Summer Solstice 2010

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Well, here goes. From this day forward, I hope to do some writing daily. It may not be online, or it may skip a few if I’m out in the wild without technology (yay for that!) But here’s to a habit=forming venture!

Today I spent a large potion of the day preparing to make soap, and a salve. I’ve made 2 batches of soap, which will now cure for a month. After this brief hiatus from the magical cauldron, I’m going to make a couple of salves for ritual use.

It has been a good day for me to get in touch with my witchy nature. I like stirring up the cauldron!

The Art of Marriage

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The little things are the big things.

It is never being too old to hold hands.

It is remembering to say I love you at least once a day.

It is never going to sleep angry.

It is at no time taking the other for granted: the courtship should not end with the honeymoon; it should continue through all the years.

It is having a mutual sense of values and common objectives.

It is standing together facing the world.

It is forming a circle of love that gathers in the whole family.

it is doing things for each other, not in the attitude of duty or sacrifice, but in the spirit of joy.

It is speaking words of appreciation and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways.

It is not expecting the husband to wear a halo or the wife to have wings of an angel.

It is not looking for perfection in each other.

It is cultivating flexibility, patience, understanding, and a sense of humour.

It is having the capacity to forgive and forget.

It is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow.

It is finding room for the things of the spirit.

It is a common search for the good and the beautiful.

It is establishing a relationship in which the independence is equal, dependence is mutual and the obligation is reciprocal.

It is not only marrying the right partner, it is being the right partner.

~Wilfred Arlan Peterson (1900-1995)

Fruitflesh

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Fruitflesh: seeds of inspiration for women who write
by Gayle Brandeis

When I was visiting with *magicduck tonight, at the end of the evening she suggested that we should work through the above title together. I think it’s a fabulous idea, so here we go!

The book chapters are named after the parts of a tree. Which is perfect i think! It also fits in well with my idea to be working with plants in a spiritual manner, not just practical and botanical. It reminds me that I would like to browse through the library catalogue for some more information on that topic….

I am also keen to keep this idea of exploring myself going. There are some other spiritual books that will encourage me to write my own path, so I will have to do that too!

Part One: Seeds
The preface and introduction

Part Two: Roots
Where do your words come from?
Delve deep into your roots – the roots that connect your body to your family, to the earth itself, the roots that dangle beneath your desire to write. Your words will blossom most freely when they are grounded in your own fertile soil.

The Cellar
The apples in the cellar
are black, and dying inside their skins.
They pray all night in their bins,
but nobody listens;
they will be neither food nor trees.
~Anne Dillard
Step down into your body’s own root cellar, the dark place where you store all your yet-untold stories. Perhaps it is tucked beneath your liver; perhaps it is under your heart. Shine a light into the corners. What can you see? is there a musty box of potential poems you’ve been meaning to unpack for years by haven’t found the ‘right time’ quite yet? is there a germ of a story sealed in plastic because you were too busy or too afraid to begin writing the real thing? Can you still hear the unwritten words singing under their packing materials, or have their voices been muffled by time?
Now is the time to do some unwrapping, some airing out. If we don’t tell the stories that ask to come through us, they die inside their skins, under our own skin; they become neither food nor trees. Choose one of these stories, hold it close to your hear, and carry it back up into the light. Even if you write just one paragraph, just one line of the piece, you’ll prevent it from rotting away. And who knows? It could blossom into something beautiful and nourishing. It could be the treasure you didn’t realize you were carrying inside you all this time.