Today was chilly and wet here in the Magical MidAtlantic. The top of my euonymous bush is bright red. There’s no denying it; it’s Autumn. I spent the day getting out the Samhein decorations. It’s the one holiday for which I really, really decorate.
Landscape Guy and I are working at getting the garden put to bed, painting before Winter comes, plotting for next year.
It’s time to slow down, become introspective, give ourselves a chance to compost, think, dream. I think sometimes that everything in our culture works to prevent us from doing these things. If we aren’t being pushed to do, do, do, do, do, do, do, we’re being offered one form of mind-numbing entertainment after another. Isn’t there a reality show on tv or an electronic game on the console? Ivo Dominguez talks about how the overculture encourages us to fall under the enchantment of forgetfulness — how it tries to make us forget that everything is connected. It’s a pervasive spell and one that slips up on us stealthily and steadily.
And, so, it can be radical work, the work of an activist, to refuse to go along, to insist upon allowing our bodies and our spirits to follow the natural cycle of the Wheel of the Year.
Make a cup of tea. Light a candle. Sit with your journal, or your paints, or your knitting needles. Center. Ground. Listen.
Picture found here.