I've been out harvesting nostalgia; collecting memories that buzz in the middle and then reverberate each time I smell the same season's breeze or catch the same angle of sunlight. In my hot tea before bed I stir these thoughts of wonderment as the honeyed steam rises up.
The summer's floral display is changing into spikes and burrs and puffs. The tree trunks are showing shades of gray and black hardly noticed before. The skies are furious and haunting with clouds only October can boast. I've been watching closely. I gathered a thick bushel of the sweetest goldenrod flowers, small bundles of sweet everlasting, and hug-fulls of my dreamy mugwort. I have many magic potions from my summer's course, glistening on my countertops in shades and textures not unlike the autumn trees.
The last of the determined flowers have bloomed. I admire with sharp feelings the unusual juxtaposition of pink flowers, colored trees, and October snow. I am grateful for Elderberry elixir and my Monday hot soup tradition.
Grateful for working in a place where the land speaks to me, and the people are wise and humble. For where else would I learn how to respectfully dress a groundhog?
Grateful for the copious boughs of Thuja that I made into oil.
And while my Anima Medicine Woman Mentorship is coming along, it brings many surprises with it. It's going slower than I planned, and with different emphasis. I envisioned spending much time on herbal learning, but in fact I am spending more time on my own healing, paradigms, and sensory gifts. I work slowly in general, not because I am slow, but because I take in an enormous amount in each moment and that requires time and assimilation. I am allowing myself to be slower with less punishment. One of the delicious benefits is simple observation and receptivity. This has been perhaps the most exquisite Autumn I have ever seen; the colors are beyond spectacular. Is this because of weather and patterns? Or is it simply because I am watching so carefully the turning.....
to pinks............to golds..............
I am awestruck by Autumn this year. Despite my very busy schedule, (and my ruthless hatred of winter present or pending) timeless moments have blessed me often.
Like the day the bobcat walked through.
And the day we took a twilight hayride through sacred land.
And prayed and laughed in the corn maze.
And the day the honey came.
The Anima pulses through me a little stronger each day as I write and rewrite myself. I'm inviting back in my muse and prepared to let her take me over, trusting she won't let me fall. I see her in the flowers of the boneset, the breathing mist on the river, the cascades of leaves everywhere. I see her in the innocent eyes of my dance and herbal students. She is leading me again to poetry, to movement, to feeling. She guides me to before; before the chopping and blending, before the herb articles are written, before any assumptions are made.
She seduces me into the bittersweet nostalgia of receiving beauty right now.
Feet planted firmly in the hurt
I sprout tendrils from the dirt
I open to the gifts I'll find
In waves of curling shadow grief
Surrender into risk
In bowing prayer
In moving love, my heart is safe.