Listen Here

The seasons are turning once again. I have recently returned from leading my annual fall retreat. This year, the fifth year, it was a women’s retreat. Wild Bliss. We wove an unspeakable freedom, magic, peace in those woods. From the threads of our lives, we joined the sorrow songs and the heartbeats of joy. Threaded through the four directions, through our hands and hearts and between our legs. We knelt and wailed. We stood and laughed. Head thrown back in awe of the mystery. I am consistently astounded at the depth of magic that this retreat delivers. This year was no different. I am gratitude ringing solid through every cell.

The women that gathered have inspired this gift I share today. You may use this as a prayer for the Autumn Equinox. Perhaps you would like to lay out altars to the four seasons, the four elements, the four directions. Perhaps you would just like to close your eyes as I read to you. And you let the words slide through your bones. Echoing your own thread of mystery, hungry to be born into cloth, woven with others. This is gift, a guide through the magic of the four directions, a small sliver of what we wove under the influence of Wild Bliss.

LISTEN HERE

We entered from the east. Some of us still holding our past tight in fists. Some of us only looking at the sky, tripping over mountains. And some still, barely breathing. The light shook us out of sleep and into day. Some of us danced, and still dance like fools on fire. We don’t know what’s coming. We don’t care. We have faith that dawn holds our hearts clean and full to the sky. That it will be done in beauty. The winds of the east gently sweep us into new life. Green spirals unfurling from snow beds. We all, eventually, remember why we came here.

And then we walked one quarter round the fire. And came to the place where blood thickens. Skins tighten. The old is so weary and dry and ready to drop. And so we do. We peel back the skins of our mothers. Of our fathers. Of our ancestors. We allow their love to surge forth through our warm bodies and blood. We are the ones who walk here now. It is a great honor. We carry flowers in our hands. We wash each other with water that is blessed in sweetness. We lay down the fight. And let the vibrant pulsing core ripple through our bones. Through our flesh. Until we are giggling with delight.

And then we walk one quarter round the children’s fire. We come to the dark woods. The secrets we’ve kept. The fears we are too afraid to speak outlaid. Night pulls her dark hair over our eyes. We hear her heartbeat for a while. And then nothing. Nothing. We gather up our fears like fallen teeth. We growl into the earth. We howl and moan for all the loss. All the broken bones. All the stolen life. We howl. We spit. We rage. And the heart beats on. And on. And on. Until we are a dark seed under the earth. Waiting. For her time to be born.

And then we walk one last turn around the circle. We come to a place where questions are answered, but not in words. Only in sky circles carved by those great winged ones. Or the harmony of wave and heartbeat aligned at last. We lay down in the great deep silence. We do not know if we are dying or being born. We know it is the same. We awaken laughing wild. With grey hair. And those shining eyes that pour trust. wisdom. kindness.

And then we stand. Feet blessing the earth. Blessed by the earth. Crown blessing the sky, blessed by the sky. We find the center of the wheel. We sit here for a long time. Until gratitude pours down and up and through our bodies like mountain water. Until we are full of that source that made us. That spring that we will return to. We sit here a long time. Until it is finished, for now. Until a new day breaks free from time, and we are blessed to begin again.