Hail the Traveler

(Uncertain from where this comes, but it's beautiful and I wanted to share after the death of our great heroine, RBG.)

 

Hail the Traveler

Commit you back from where you came

to the arms of your ancestors.

May there be peace where there was anger.

May there be healing where there was hurt.

Go quickly to the place that your old ones called Home.

For those who grieve your passing, 

let there be healing.

For those who grieve for what you could have been, 

let there be healing.

Hail The Traveler!

We celebrate your journey.

IMBOLC, (Candlemass)

This festival is a power point on the wheel of the year. To our ancestors, one happening (one that only a few of us are today even know about) marked this date with great importance:

"Lambs are born; there is milk now."

 The winter (or at least that's what this season used to be) was in those Little Ice Age Days winding down. There was higher sun. Bare turf patches appeared in the pastures that lay upon south-facing hills. 

Perhaps, down in your valley, the sun sets today in the center of the notch upon that looming crag.

Or, maybe, over there in the next valley, the sun sets at a particular spot, right there in the circle of stone built by wise ancestors.

The sun stays above the horizon for longer every day—and with that and some regular rain and no plague among people or livestock—there will be enough to eat again. If we are lucky, there will be plenty over to get us through the next winter, and enough to leave seed to plant in the year after that. 

Besides the agricultural, there were contracts between men and families which must be made, oaths given, hand clasping hand, in a community where a man's word was his bond. 

I think it's a good thing to remember such times, though long ago.

Our world is different, but aren't our basic tasks similar? Shouldn't we support one another in community? Shouldn't we celebrate the simple miracle of the lambs? Shouldn't we speak truth to one another? 

So, let's suck up our courage and go forth to continue the work which will reshape our society for the good of all of us. Let's give up our fears and rally to put a brake upon those privileged few who sit like dragons atop the spoil of an entire planet's resources. Remember, even here in the 21st Century, "sunlight is the best disinfectant."

~~Juliet 

https://bookswelove.net/waldron-juliet/

She Is

There is a real world; 

there is a magical world, too. 

Sometimes we forget the magical one, 

struggling too hard 

in the painful, dirty, bloody real one.  

But the magic is here, and 

She is here, too, 

Our Nightmare Mistress, Life in Death.

www.hannahboeving.com
artist

Sometimes she reaches down and touches,
Be still and sense 

just the slightest grace.  

The gold of autumn against blue sky, 

spring green -- poignant, aching. 

                           Heavy languid summer,                          
leaves, bliss in whisper of air.

White frozen lake of winter, 
crystal glitter bubbles riming the edge
so the fallen fool can contemplate 
the looking glass, gazing into glacier.

In each season 

She whispers a syllable in the ear, 

sprouts a mushroom, 

sings a bird ,

offers a single, starburst wildflower, 

tosses a stone from nowhere 

to ripple the pond.  

That's a

life worth living.  

The ghosts I've seen 

near bodies dancing,
 heart's pumping blood spilled
on sandy shores.

I've blessed you, chorusing cicada, 

geese exulting through a torn sky.

Moonlight, starlight, 
wind and rain and stinging snow. 

I've seen the Aten,

 clamoring hands reaching 

from below the horizon,

my eyes 

swimming in seawater,
heard souls at the gate 

of that incandescent chantry...

Juliet Waldron

See all my historical novels @

http://julietwaldron.com/books.htm