Oh mother, holy mother, ancient mama, sacred mama~

I honor the fire I build, its slow burn in all this wind.  Feeding of wet wood and kindling, faded newspaper, scrap by scrap.  Feeding sure as I have fed and grown this harvest season, season of light and peak of summer sun.  How many lives that live inside just one?  Feeding that eats, and transforms.

I honor the water of you, mama Atlantic, salty brine and seaweed hair.  Waters of upcoming fall, season of emotion, reflection, season to clean and cleanse~

Season to rest, to make room.

Gibbous moon, yellow behind grey sky, silver cast over the sea.  Last of summer’s wax!  Last of the element of fire, as we lean now west, water bound, yes.  You will peak mama moon just after it has become Fall.  I can feel your tension already, the shine light on what we have grown, what we have fed. On our last/ing growth of summer-into-fall.  How it gets activated this weekend, what we have grown! Alchemizing into what will last, and what will compost during the season of dark and rest.  That which IS becomes what was, which will renew~

What will be?

My feet sturdy upon you, oh mama earth, your new morning and no sun.  My heart open to you, new day, grey sky this morning and still the promise of new direction, dawn.  Beginning again.

I thank you the lessons!  The births and deaths.  The ways you’ve taught me round and round the wheel of the year, again and again.  I thank you Harvest, what I have grown, what we have done, holy community I thank you, sacred sisters sacred brothers I thank you, what I have given up, what we have, what we feed and grow and give up, how both can happen at once.  Old world and new one creating, all at once!  I thank you, this passing, I thank you this staying the same.  This seasonal ebb into fall, same time as our lunar peak flows into full moon. Ah, thank you tension.  Thank you, sacred mama, this power-full, precious, simple dance.

Living and dying and living again, sometimes separate.  Sometimes all at once and the same.  Holy medicine, equinox weekend of holding both, and.  Equal day light, equal night.  Equal awareness of both.  Passing of season of light into season of dark.  Holding  steady under full moonlight, holding what it means to be in between.

image, Gwynn Marie, Moonchild