The fire was in me. Even before Miles left, I began to be the witch who tidied, sorted and smudged. Now, in my natural state, I will craft away while the dishes pile up, the floors gather fluff n dust bunnies. Not so at this time. I was a woman with a mission to create a cottage as altar vibe. My dear sister, sacred tool maker, artist n shadow worker, Vicki, called it 'reigniting the sacred', she'd know! I liked that too! I had candles burning all over the joint, oil burners going, scented strong with Lemon Myrtle. Inspired by the inspiringly spoken words of the likes of Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Starhawk and Susun Weed, blending with the kick ass earthy singing of Ruby Hunter and the Gaelic soundtrack to Roan Inish. I was waking the intentions, setting the scene, but it was an evolving thang, developing as I went with chux, sponge and detergent...
On the second day, there was light, nah just kidding, well kinda. I had been gifted by another dear sister, creative ecologist Ilka (of 'Cloud Tales') some resin from a tree in Aoteoroa, and some red ochre from her soils, which she had recieved from Sundance a potent plant woman of that same land. I decided a) I was blessed to have such rockin' sisters in my small circle, and b) the time to burn the resin was here. I heated the charcoal, popped one half of it on and BOOM, I was in sacred space offering prayers, placing requests and counting blessings. I ground a little of the ochre and ran it down from my third eye to nose tip, on my heart chakra and the words flowed out. Special....
My familiar Nomad aka Mushcat thought all this was a) wonderfull but also b) nap worthy, thus oscillating betwixt the two.
I peeled n stewed apples and I made a shitload o pate (using creatrix Diana's latest canelloni beans added recipe). I washed n delabelled herbal bottles and jars that had been loitering for months, love removing labels ;)! I love jars! Nothing pisses me off like a good jar where the manufacturer has used a type of adhesive that means you can't recycle it! Well mayhaps climate change, inane politics or ugly yet expensive public art. I'm not making light of climate change, but I was channeling my rage into cleaning jars well. Reusing them for everything from cotton reels, buttons to pens, shells gathered and sticks found.
In between, I followed the tricky n amazing pattern from the ecodye alchemist India Flint, for transforming an old men's shirt into an apron. I previously made myself one and when preciously mentionedDiana-mum visited last time, she dropped a few hints about it. Having scored a couple of fancy XXL pure cotton collared shirts at the op shop I began hillbilly stitchin' hers. Twas just recently her birthday after all, and if anyone could think of 101 great uses for an apron it would be she!
At this point, I was unsure if my fella was ever coming back form his joint, but he did return after his journey of being head down, bum up on the Samsung tablet typing away. Reunited we dined on pate and both promptly crashed!
This morningk I awoke with the urge to decant the tinctures I had awaiting. Most of which had brewed for 6 weeks, some more. Timing close to perfectimundo I felt, near enough anyways. 'Perfect is the antidote to done' as Clarissa says. I always save the spent herbs when I strain off the tinctures, leave it in the sun a day to evaporate the alcohol so my worms don't get drunk, and then respectfully add to the compost. Back to the earth from whence they came, as some day shall I!
I was pleased for my apothecary stocks this time around, as I hadn't been on a bender or dipped into the vodka based medicines before their magic had ensued. They reached maturity, and now my shelves and what I have to offer up is growing :). People can even place an order and I can say in my best herbalist / medicine woman type manner 'oh I'll just see if I've got any!' yay!!
So all in all what could have been a shit fight of a build up to this full moon has worked out rather gloriously! I have focused my intentions upon several of my favorite tangents or aspects, and done so in a sacred manner. In a shamanic journey, I didn't even have the chance to shift to the otherworlds for long before Julian-dad was there, my bro Dylan and grandma Alice. All of whom I miss terribly. Simply seeing them was enough, but they were affirming my path, each in their very individual ways. I came back to ordinary reality feeling affirmed and like I am doing ok being what some call a crazy chick who hears voices ;)! Ha! That's yet another story for another time!
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