Mabon Altar

Moments of Radiance

Yesterday we held our Mabon (Autumn Equinox) Ritual. It is starting to feel like a tradition each autumn: during the ritual we write those things we'd like to shed from our lives onto leaves and then burn them in the cauldron; take stock of the year's blessings and take an apple from the altar to symbolise those blessings; and finally pass around a basket of hazelnuts, taking it in turns to give them to each other - a nut for each wish or blessing we want to bestow. This symbolises the sharing of our year's harvest.

The ritual is always emotional, moving and heart-warming as people speak of the negatives they want to shed, then move on to the good things they harvest and finally bless each other in turn with lovely hazelnut-wishes.

Afterwards the group gathered in my kitchen as I finished preparing the mushroom quiche and apple crumble we were about to consume. Pinky and Suzanne were in the corner discussing tarot decks, IB and Dom compared mead recipes at the kitchen table, and all the while Sid serenaded us on his flute, moving from Ave Maria, through some Irish jigs to Ravel's Bolero.

I looked around at the lovely people assembled in my home, as the sun streamed in through the windows, the smells of the feast to come permeated the room, and the lovely ethereal music wove its way through all. And I felt a blaze of happiness. This is what I have always wanted, a group of true friends, a meaningful spiritual path, a comfortable home in which to gather and share with those friends in celebration and love.

Sometimes in life we are happy without even knowing it, only realising how precious a moment is after it has passed, and sometimes we are lucky enough to recognise true happiness in the moment. At this year's harvest I was truly blessed with an opportunity to recognise and count my blessings in a moment of radiance.

May we all be so fortunate. Blessed Be!

Beautiful September

We' ve had some rain, but also some beautiful sunny early autumn days recently. Here are some photos to prove it!

On Mellow Fruitfulness and New Beginnings...

The early morning sunlight is golden on the treetops, and mist still lingers in the valley folds. The robin's song has a tinge of autumn melancholy, and the sunlit dew highlights a hundred spider webs. September is here, and with her the onset of autumn. Though the swallows and martens of summer haven't yet departed, autumn now begins to take over.

I was musing this morning how strange it is that September and autumn can feel like a beginning. Mostly autumn is portrayed as the end, the culmination of the year, a time of harvest. And yet isn't it - aren't all turning points - also beginnings? Years ago, I wrote a poem, part of which declared:

"Through life and death and rebirth,

The thread continues spinning;

And though all beginnings have to end,

All ends are but beginnings"

In September the children go back to school, the new academic year begins. People return from summer holidays and in many cases begin planning their next holiday straight away! The shops begin their run-up to Christmas (yes I know!). Bulbs are planted in anticipation of the next spring, jumpers and boots re-emerge from their summer hiatus, the swallows begin their long journey back to warmer climes.

September marks the end of summer, but also the beginning of a new season - autumn. There are so many turning points in our lives, but every ending is simultaneously a new beginning, a new opportunity. This morning I'm remembering to be thankful for what has passed, whilst welcoming in the new...

Story of a Necklace

I will shortly be leaving for this year's Avalon Spring witchcamp. And when choosing what to pack, I was drawn to bring along a necklace which normally sits on my main altar, in a corner of the bedroom.

The story of this necklace goes back to Avalon Spring 2008, where I first became acquainted with it. Dawn Isidora, who was one of the teachers that year, made three beautiful necklaces which she brought with her to be auctioned to raise funds for camp. Three members of the teaching team wore the necklaces throughout camp so that they would soak up the energy of the rituals. I felt an instant kinship for the necklace I was given to wear, and decided I would definitely bid for it in the auction on the final night of camp. Dawn had strung the other two necklaces with a definite intent for their energy, but she said she was unsure what 'my' necklace was about. She had strung it instinctively, and was still unsure what its purpose was.

For me it spoke of love, romantic love. The pale pink pearls (pink being the colour of love) were interspersed with tiny glass hearts and teeny copper beads (copper being the metal of Venus). At that time I had been married for nearly 17 years and whilst I was happy in my marriage it is fair to say that romance wasn't particularly high on the agenda - familiarity having bred a certain amount of taking each other for granted. Nor was I interested in drawing a new love into my life, being decidedly monogamist in my preferences. Nevertheless, I felt I had 'bonded' with the necklace and determined that I would be the winning bidder.

At the auction, I allowed myself a budget of £45. The first necklace sold for an amount comfortably within that limit, and I relaxed a little. The second went for a little higher than my budget, but I told myself hopefully that by now people would have exhausted their spending muscles and I would be lucky. But by now, the end of the auction, people were really getting into the swing of it, and the price for the necklace went up and up, as my heart sunk and sunk. All however, was not lost. My dear friends Georgia and Annie had noticed how much I wanted the necklace, and when my price limit was exceeded and I stopped bidding, they chipped in additional money on my behalf, until at last all competition fell away, and the necklace was mine.

I still remained puzzled as to why I felt so drawn to the necklace, but took it home to sit proudly on my altar and occasionally come out, displayed around my neck.

Later that year, my marriage - much to my surprise - ended, and I was left alone, dazed and confused by this unexpected turn of events.

The necklace lay mostly forgotten on the altar, until a friend from the local Pagan community started to become more than just a friend. At Beltane 2009, I wore my love necklace for the first time with intent; the intent that if the time was right I would open my heart to new possibilities. By the end of the month, IB and I had made the transition from friends to lovers, and my happiness grew and grew.

Today, packing my bags I wanted to bring the necklace, but it has always had a loose fastening and I was worried about losing it. I mentioned it to IB, who promptly delicately, yet securely soldered it so that I can wear it with confidence.

And at Avalon Spring this year, for the first time I will be joined by my partner (T never having been interested in such things), and I can't wait to share this event I love so much with the person I love so much. My happiness continues to grow.

Now my necklace and my love are secure. Don't you just love a happy ending?

A Blog With Substance Award

I am absolutely thrilled to find I have been awarded this blogging award. The most recent rules for the award are:

1. Thank the blogger that gave you the award. Thankyou to Jill over at Path of the Moon Daughter, I am truly delighted that you've chosen my blog for this award.
   
2. Sum up your blogging philosophy, motivation, experience, using 5 words. Mine are *enjoy *express *experiment *dare and *share.


3. Pass the award on to 5 fabulous bloggers with substance. I'm happy to bestow this award (in no particular order) on the following fabulous blogs which always have something worth saying, and say it well:

• Secret Garden
• The Awakened Heart
• Big Blue Barn West
• Blog O'Gnosis
• Earthenwitch

Thank you and goodnight!

Back In The Saddle Again...

When I was nine years old I desperately wanted a pony. A white pony, with flowing mane and tail, that I would name Silver. Silver would be my best friend, I would plait wildflowers and ribbons into her mane and we would have great adventures together, roaming the countryside. I christened my bicycle 'Silver' and attached ribbons to the handlebars to use as reins, and the bike became an imaginary pony.

My parents couldn't afford a real pony, but they did agree to send my sister and I for riding lessons at a nearby stables. I was overjoyed - until reality set in. The pony I was given to ride, Star, seemed impossibly huge (my younger sister was given a fat little Shetland pony to ride called Teddy, whose much lower centre of gravity seemed a desirable asset). Star's lack of anchor points to hold onto also seemed a serious defect - once teetering in the saddle, the stirrups and reins seemed wholly inadequate to keep me from toppling off. I had no great aptitude for riding and could not for the life of me cope with Star attempting anything faster than a slow amble. Most of the time I was quite frankly terrified. After a few weeks the inevitable happened and I fell crashing to the ground - breaking my arm in the process. As the riding instructor picked me up and dusted me down, she gave me a kindly, yet brisk talking to, about stiff upper lips and how it was essential to get straight back on the horse to ensure I wasn't put off riding in the future. Too late. I was already put off, and in fact nothing on the planet could have induced me to clamber back on Star's patient back at that moment in time.

And that was the end of my equestrian dreams. At the age of nine and a half I hung up my riding hat and decided to concentrate on becoming a secret agent instead.

******

How often do we give up in the face of discouragement? It's not always a bad thing - sometimes it is good to know one's limitations and be realistic. How many 'Pop Idol/X Factor' hopefuls who can't sing a note insist in their post-audition interview that pop stardom is their one dream and they won't be discouraged in the face of rejection? When so many people with truly wonderful voices never attain stardom, how realistic is it for tone-deaf talentless wannabes to imagine stardom is just around the corner? Would it not be better for them to realise their limitations and concentrate on finding out what they're really good at - cake decorating or brain surgery or teaching or breeding new strains of auriculas?

On the other hand, how easy it is to let a set-back hold us back. How often do we let fear of failure stop us from even trying?

******

When T and I split up, I was full of fear about my future. My marriage had given me a sense of security, emotional and financial. I thought I knew what life had in store for me, yet suddenly the rug was pulled from under me, and I felt like a complete failure. I was afraid. My future looked bleak, as everything I thought I could rely on was suddenly thrown into chaos. I expected that I would have to move from Halfway Up A Hill, and I panicked about how I could afford a new property with room for the animals. I knew I would have to get a paid job again, and the length of time since I had last been in paid employment convinced me that would be impossible. I could not imagine that I would ever find love again. I envisioned a cold, lonely, impoverished and uncertain future ahead of me.

Unlike falling off a horse and deciding not to get back on, I had no choice this time. Life was going to carry on, and not re-engaging with it wasn't an option.

Luckily, my financial situation turned out not be as scary as I had imagined. The divorce settlement allowed me to stay at Halfway Up A Hill - for the time being anyway. That gave me some breathing space in which to lick my wounds and take time easing back into the workforce. Amazingly, and quite unlooked for, a new romantic relationship developed out of an existing friendship. I was resistant at first, not wanting to ruin a good friendship 'on the rebound'. Yet IB and I have been together for over a year now and quite honestly I believe it is the best, healthiest relationship I have ever been in. Even so, it has been challenging at times for both of us. Starting a relationship in one's forties is quite a different kettle of fish than in one's twenties - the last time I was dating before this (do people even say dating any more? It sounds so teenager-y - but I digress...). At this time in our lives we are both quite set in our ways, which needs careful negotiation, yet at the same time we are more comfortable in our own skins and sure of what we want from life.

******

My bike 'Silver' is long gone (though fondly remembered) and it has been a good few years since I have cycled at all. I bought a bike about fifteen years ago but found it too much like hard work and it languished mostly unused in the garage. It has finally gone, cleared away with a lot of other stuff in my life that was no longer needed or wanted.

IB however, is a keen cyclist and has convinced me that my problem with cycling was the wrong bike. We have found me a good secondhand bike on Ebay which we picked up earlier this week. It needs a few improvements before I can ride it (the brakes need some work), but I am feeling a mixture of excitement at the thought of riding a bike again along with fear at the prospect. Am I too old? Too unfit? What if I make a fool of myself and fall off? How will I manage those Welsh hills? And yet I remember the sense of freedom and joy that cycling used to bring all those years ago. Is cycling still for me? I don't know. But I am willing to give it a try, a good try, knowing that initially muscles will ache and joints will creak, yet with practice I will improve.

Sometimes, it pays to know when not to get back in the saddle. Horse riding was not for me, and I saved myself a lot of grief (and my parents a lot of money) by quitting when I did.

But sometimes you just have to pick yourself up, dust yourself down, and start all over again. Despite having my self-confidence and trust in others severely dented, I was brave enough to start a new relationship and I am so glad I did. It has helped the sun come out again.

Sometimes you just need to take a gamble and try again. Begin a new relationship, buy a new bike, try something new and different. You never know, getting back in the saddle just may be the best decision you ever made.