Last night, twenty or so wonderful, wyrd folk gathered in Jason's construction firm's conference room to celebrate the witchy goddess Cerridwen and reclaim our magic, owning our ability to shape and change our lives in every possible way, beneath the nearly-full moon in Aquarius.
No really, that happened.
The space didn't look like a corporate office anymore. We'd created altars, draped the bookshelves and tables in black, green and gold cloth, lit candles everywhere.
On one of the side tables was a bouquet of white stargazer lilies, violet-tinged dahlias, and chamomile that I had brought from the funeral of my dear friend Rebecca Tidewalker.
Tides, as we called her, was one of the most magical people I've ever met. She had this amazing ability to look you right in the eyes as you told her your stories of mystical experience and witchy wonder, smile, and in a couple of words totally and complete affirm the uniqueness and realness of your experience. She prided herself on "making magic normal, instead of weird." She catalyzed my thinking in every possible way and kindled inspiration of all kinds in those she touched -- to create, to do, to believe, to transform.
Over the past month, she slipped away. Slowly at first, almost invisibly, and then in a way none of us could ignore. And then she was gone -- surrounded by her beloveds singing to her, without pain, to the land of apples or whatever lies beyond.
It's been a painful month, a beautiful month, and tear-soaked month. At the end of it, I felt dry, cynical, oftentimes numb before a sudden bout of tears.
I'd already agreed to teach the class on the goddess Cerridwen with my dear friend Urania before all this happened, and Sunday, she looked at our insignificant registration numbers and offered to cancel. But something pulled me forward. Maybe it was Cerridwen herself.
And then we started getting texts and emails and PMs and everything else, one by one -- a flood of people. They were all being called to the magic. To reclaim their birthright as magic makers, miracle workers, crafty folk, healers, wisdom keepers.
That's your birthright, too. Just in case you forgot, in all of the intensity of the late-summer doing and making and working... Your birthright is the ability to transform, heal, make miracles, cast spells, write amazing things that change lives, and to open yourself again and again to being part of the great web of magic and life.
I think that if Tides was writing to you right now that's what she would want you to know, too.
- Make some flower essences.
- Blend up a handcrafted tea to invoke lucid dreams.
- Take a moonbath.
- Write a handwritten card to a beloved or two, and snail mail it to them, reminding them of what their special magic power is.
Loving you all with a big, leaky, vulnerable heart! I'll be back to work next week.
With love and magic,
P.S. Here's some beautiful words of wisdom from my favorite astrologer, Chani Nichols, about this full moon.
P.P.S. Here's what our friends at Mystic Mama have to say about the magic of the sun and moon today:
“We may have invested too much energy in anticipation of an ideal future when everything magically falls into place, not realizing the magic is us, living on purpose, with clear intent and for the greater good right now...This isn’t an ‘easy’ Moon, but it is a liberating one for sure, with gifts galore for all who commit to seeing life through fresh eyes, not allowing the tyranny of a ‘tried and tested’ past to jeopardize a creative and fulfilling future."
P.P.P.S. Here's a pic of me, Brie, and the amazing Rebecca Tidwalker. In love may she return again.