A Return to Earth brings me out of Grieving
Almost a year since my last blog.... I pulled out of grief and got busy with the garden. I dug like a wild woman possessed by some great need to get down and dirty and I moved earth. I trenched my garden plot like a war zone and planted everything I could. I confessed to passerby's that I was compelled by some internal force to do so... though they would nod they could not hide their concern as they walked by.
I came out of grief by moving earth.
I took a job at our local recycling center and re-entered my community, coming out of my isolation, it was nice to smile for a change... I had cried out the maximum of tears. I loved going to work and my armour slowly came off and I allowed my gifts and talents to show themselves... they promoted me to manager and I gave the place a make-over before I took over... and the change has been profoundly positive and profitable for the community.
I came out of grief by caring for the earth.
I stayed up all night on the Summers Solstice around the fire drinking tequila with a couple of wise guys and a set of drums and we ushered in the sun in good ole county style and it felt good. The next day was gorgeous and I felt I had played some part in making it so. I felt ready for what Summer held... and when Lughnasa came I was ready to celebrate my daughters Sweet Sixteen in style.
I came out of grief by celebrating life on earth.
But all along I knew that death was still waiting in the shadows for me... I knew that Halloween was not far off, that the joys of summer were soon going to run out. I knew that I could not let the Sabbat pass without acknowledgement, I had journeyed so close with death that a ritual is what I knew I needed desperately. I invited a friend to join me and we took nine others into the woods with us to face the darkness and find our strength together, and we danced in the moonlight and we shouted into the night we would not live in fear of dying and that in the darkness of the season there is always light
I came out of grief by believing in earth.
February first is the time for initiations, new beginnings; the Celts called it Imbolc, when mother sheep get their milk. I held my second open circle, for men and women... my father built the fire for us and an Avalon Sister joined me with her sword, story and song and we drew down the rain with drums with eleven others. The sky opened up and we were all baptized in warm rain and it was indeed a celebration that we are truly half way through the darkest half of the year. Spring shall come again.
I have come out of my grief with the promise of earths’ rebirth.