"The mother of us all, the oldest of us all, Hard, splendid as rock, let the beauty you love, be what you do. There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the earth"~ Rumi ~
The Early Bird registration date for Weaving the Wheel of the Year is approaching this week! Anyone who registers by Dec 15 is going to receive a sweet welcome gift package right around Yule time! If you've been thinking of joining in for the journey, don't wait, and get started with your connection to yourself- to the Earth- and to Spirit in the season of Yule!
Do you feel the seasonal shifts of the Earth in your heart, bones, and spirit?
Are you yearning to find meaningful ways to connect with and honor these energies of the Earth and your spirit?
Do you have a sense that the power and magic of the Earth and the plants is something you could tap into for your healing and well being?
Do you notice the ways that certain plants seem to become more vibrant and powerful at different times of the year?
Would you like to learn practical and effective ways to nourish and prepare your body, your home, and your spirit to live in tune with these seasonal cycles and shifts through food, herbal medicine, ritual, and community?
Do you feel like a kitchen goddess, who enjoys brewing up pots of soup, creative meals, herbal brews, and magical potions for your family and friends?
Are you ready to dive whole-heartedly into all this and more?
Then join me on a powerful journey deep into the medicine and power of the seasonal shifts that our beloved home, Earth, moves through each year. I have spent many years as an herbalist wandering the wild lands of the west- the deserts and mountains, and the east- forests and fields, watching, sensing, and learning about how the seasons, and the seasonal shifts effect our biology, our spirits, and our life journey. I have sat with the plants and learned so much from them through personal experience and communion. They have shared how to spiral into the energy of each season with plant medicine, with appropriate foods, with ritual and ceremony, and nature awareness. My life has been deeply changed and fully nourished by sitting on the Earth and feeling her power and her moods. Now I would like to share this experience and journey with you- so that you too may be deeply nourished from Gaia’s healing plants, foods and energies.
In this unique program you will receive an in-depth, hands on and heart-centered lesson and herbal medicine for each quarter and cross quarter day for a full year. That is 8 lessons and 8 seasonally appropriate herbal medicines to help you balance and attune to the energies of the earth happening around you and within you. Plus access to a community of like minded spirits, and specific practices and suggestions for you from me as you explore!
You will recieve every 6 weeks (8 times per year):
1 seasonally appropriate herbal medicine to help you attune and adjust to the seasonal energy (2 oz tincture, 2 oz tea, 1 plant or flower essence, 2 oz oil or salve)
1 surprise gift for your ceremony, practice or celebration of each season
A lesson jam packed with information about the seasonal energies present at each quarter and cross quarter day, plants and herbal medicines that can support you in each seasons energy and work, seasonally appropriate activities to do alone or with your family, journaling questions and more.
Periodic emails highlighting special natural events, shifts, and resources as you work within the program.
Access to a private community web space to share your discoveries, challenges and inspirations and stay in touch through the years changes.
A private teleconference for participants only each 6 weeks with Darcey on a seasonally appropriate topic and Q&A session.
If you are ready to discover your deep and powerful connections with the rhythms of the Earth and her seasons through herbal medicine, healing foods, and time spent on the Earth, then join me today for this amazing journey!
Program begins on Imbolc/St. Brighid’s Day, February 1, 2012 and continues through mid January 2013. Space is limited in this unique and transformative journey, and will close early if all the spaces fill before the deadline!
Much of the Eastern seaboard, including my little spot in western Vermont is under the baleful eye of Hurricane Irene. Despite the scare tactics and fear mongering I saw in the news this week, it has been a wonderful opportunity to tune in to the messages of the land, to pay attention to what needs tending in our immediate surroundings, and to harness the power of Gaia's breath.
In the days before the onset of the storm, I spent some time preparing myself and my home for the effects of the storm- making sure I had ways to care for myself, even if power went out or I was cut off from travel due to downed trees or flooding. I have extra water, a source of heat and fire for cooking (both a wood stove and wood and a propane cook stove), plenty of non perishable foods- canned fish, beans, hearty greens, lactofermented pickles, sauerkraut, apples and such. My herbal pantry is stocked with nervines, and I've been imbibing nervine teas with chamomile and lavender.
And certainly not least, I've spent a good portion of the weekend outside on the land- feeling the incredible stillness and anticipation in the air. All the plants and trees communicating their awareness and readiness for the oncoming storm- reassuring me that storms come and go, and life continues to flourish and flower. I gathered medicines for the upcoming winter months- elderberries, alder branches, boneset, hawthorn berries - and put them up into elixirs, oils, and tinctures.
This storm is a reminder to be to always be living each moment fully- fully present, aware and connected. That each moment is precious- whether it is our last or one of many more to come. Things around us can change in the blink of an eye, or in a matter of hours in a storm. And to be well prepared for life's storms. Although we can't anticipate everything that might come our way, we can prepare ourselves, through attention and presence, and wise planning to have on hand the resources we might need in many cases. Food, medicine, community support, back up plans.
As the winds are picking up here, I'm struck by the awesome power and beauty in the storm at hand. It brings me closer to my humanity, and more in touch with the precious present moment, the trees that surround my house, the river that runs through this little mountain town, my senses are fully aware.
While this storm is blowing through, I'm thinking of the things I'd like to release and wash away, and what I'd like to breath power and life into. The elements of water and air- emotion and mental precision. Set your intention with forethought and passion- use the power of these elements to manifest, release and empower.
Wishing safety and peace to all as we journey through this storm!
It was downright springy today. The sun was shining, the snow melting off the roof in a steady wet stream, puddles and mud expanding even more. We've had enough above freezing days in a row that I felt it was time to go out and get some poplar buds. The few I had gathered before were oozing their resin into the oil very nicely, and so I slugged on the snowshoes to go have a look.
Now I'm used to gathering poplar buds in the southwest, sometime in early februrary, usually the sun is warm, reflecting back from the sandy wash where the cottonwood trees grow. It gets downright hot at times, but it was always very meditative work. Working slowly from branch to branch, gathering a bud here or there, taking care never to strip one branch of all its buds. If lucky, finding freshly fallen branches on the ground after a windstorm.
But I've never collected the buds in the snow. I mean, the sun was out. And it was reflecting back at me from the blinding white snow. It was so warm that I had to shed my hat, and unzip all my layers. But then came the differences. Snowshoeing through the maze of Balsam Poplar saplings, Sumac trees, spiny raspberry canes and tangling low branches just at snow level (because the snow is probably still three feet in spots. I tripped more than once, got smacked in the face a few times, slid down an embankment, and generally had to pay close attention to where I was going.
Harvesting poplar buds is slow work. 2.5 hours yielded only half a quart jar of sticky, fragrant buds. But oh god the smell- warm, sweet, pungent, vanilla, honey, plus something all its own. Ever so much more fragrant than the Fremont cottonwood buds I am most familiar with. Little droplets of resin hardened on the large, brown buds. Fortunately, this land is blessed with an abundance of sapling sized Poplars, just the right size for a short herbalist to gather from the lower branches.
I was thinking as I gathered, what is the lesson of poplar buds? Certainly she teaches a measure of patience. I mean- you have to wait until JUST the right moment, when the days are warm enough to melt the sticky resin inside the buds, but nights are cold enough to freeze it solid on the outside of the buds. You might go check on them, every week for a month, or more. And then, there's the slow business of collecting the juicy sticky buds, one by one, buds sticking to your hands, for hours on end, to result in a small harvest. Surely we will learn patience from our poplar tree friends.
But also, attention to detail. Small details. Watch where you step, check each bud, pick one by one, add to the jar, observe each branch, never pick too many from one spot, listen for the next tree to call, pick out the tree by paying attention to the grey, furrowed bark on older trees or grey mottled bark on the saplings, with reddish twigs where the growth is new. All of these with no leaves to give it away, and picking it out among the whitish-yellow bark of its relative, aspen, and the bare, yet hairy branches of the sumach. You look up, and notice how big and juicy the buds on the poplar are. Nothing on any of the other trees compares. Notice the aspen buds in some places are already opening catkins! See the pairs of birchkins high on the white birches, and how they blend in with the large poplar buds. Where does one branch end, and another start, which tree is which.
Attention to minute details isn't my forte in the normal world. I have little patience for things like that. I like generalities, patterns, flow. But it is different with the plants. They ask of us more than we would give in other situations. So I give my full attention to all the details of gathering poplar buds. And sink into a state of peace- for a short while, not thinking about how much other shit I have to get done today, how sad and overwhelmed I feel by everything right now. Just be here, now, with the trees, and the sun, and the snow shine, and the birdsong. Following the trail of the turkey tracks through the trees. I wonder if turkey was checking out the poplars too, or perhaps lunching on fallen sumac fruit clusters. "And don't forget to pay attention," says the branch that smacks my cheek with a crack, "Slow Down" says the bramble that grasps at my clothes.
Finally, thirst and hunger urge me back to the house, trudging through the now melted snow crust, where I pour olive oil over the fragrant sticky buds in the jar to infuse for their pain relieving, antiinflammatory, and stimulating properties. I'll go back another time or two, and gather a little bit more before the buds open into leaves and catkins, perhaps tincturing some as a nice stimulant expectorant and bitter digestive stimulant as well. But for now, satisfied coming home smothered in the fragrance of poplar balsam.
Winter is still in control. It's icy grip lays over the land, relinquishing nothing. Not a trace of spruce tips- too early for that- poplar buds frozen solid, with sticky resin inside that burns my tounge with its pungency and balsamic taste, it will be weeks before it is time to harvest that medicine- not even the hawthorn buds are swelling.
The ocean of snow, perfectly poised with precision- waves waiting to crash in on themselves when the skin kisses the vast expanse. But for now- seeds lay sleeping far beneath the icy waves.
Hawthorn buds in waiting
I've been remiss in visiting my spiny hawthorn tree for the Tree Year in the fields below. Crossing the ocean of snow is daunting. She is still sleeping as well. Wild cucumber and grape vines dangle lifelessly from her spiny arms, also waiting. No sign of bird nor squirrel. Just waves of snow 5 ft deep.
But the birches have birchkins...thats my word for catkins...because really they aren't cats, they are birches, and birchkins sounds more fun.
birchkins
It is supposed to storm again this weekend, but could end up being rain, so instead of working today like I had planned ( had a list going even) I went outside. The first time in months it feels like. It really did take about 30 min to get dressed and get the snowshoes on and get the dog ready, but it was almost warm in the 25 degree sunshine. But the snow doesn't think so, nor do the poplar buds.
So here we are, all the plants, and all the herb folk still locked in winters icy reign- still sleeping, still hibernating, still awaiting the kiss of the sun prince to wake us from the 100 day slumber.
I am in love with the world today-
the perfect beauty etched in stone and cloud and shadow.
The sun after rain, and the clouds interrupting with their dance
across the blue bowl of sky.
I am in love with the world today-
chiaroscuro of rain and warm sun.
Blessed rain that washes over us all- like tears,
releasing the pain, the greiving,
letting go of what is passed, washing away what is old.
And the ever generous sun- returning always
to give life to sleeping seeds,
buried deep in the heart,
in earth.
I am in love with the world today-
filled with the deepest sadness and most ecstatic bliss
in the space between each breath.
The wildness of my soul aches
for days like today
everything so clear, so intense
in the contrast between love and heartache.
The beauty of this world so intense, almost too much to hold within myself.
Last fall, I was sitting at a table at our local Green Fair, talking to people about the SweetMedicineCenter, and my work as an herbalist.I happened to be cracking acorns I had collected, roasted and planned to turn into delicious treats for the Open House at the SweetMedicineCenter.Most people approached with genuine interest and friendliness, eager to hear about what I planned to make with these treasures, and what the practition
ers and I had to offer.Many of the young native or Mexican children immediately recognized the nuts I was cracking, saying “bellotas” and asking what I planned to do with them, and tell me how their grandmothers would make bellota soup.At one point I was approached by a woman who began asking questions of me, which escalated into somewhat antagonistic jabs.When I began explaining about how I had spent hours collecting the acorns over several weeks, she began saying to me I had no right to be taking things from the forest, that I was stealing from the trees and the animals, and how could I be so selfish.I tried to explain my wildcrafting ethics to the woman, how I most assuredly collected my bounty with conscious awareness of the plants and animals around me.But this lady had it in her head otherwise, a
nd I gave up explaining.
It is difficult to explain the hours of time spent crouched in the warm sun, lying in the sand, gathering a single acorn at a time by hand, how I felt the trees alive around me, the small animals scurrying around me collecting their own stash of nuts for the cool season, to someone who doesn’t see it that way.I do understand that if everyone also decided to wildcraft, many plants would be stripped bare by over harvesting, and thus laws are enacted to prevent people from “taking” from the earth.
While I understand the idea behind the protection of natural resources, I also feel deeply how these types of ideas and laws have created a disconnect between humans, the earth, and the resources and gifts that Gaia has graciously bestowed.Humans have become increasingly alienated from the natural world, because we no longer understand, in our bones, and our daily sustenance how deeply we are dependent on the earth.Food comes from grocery stores, or if we are fortunate, local organic farms and ranchers, but very few people come in contact with the actual procurement and production of the food that passes through their mouth.Naturally, gardening in the home becomes a way for us to reconnect with our food and the earth, but it is lacking something that the wild foods and animals can teach us, ju
st by their presence, and making ourselves open to it.
As an herbalist I have primarily been a wildcrafter.I do grow some of my medicinal herbs and much of my food in my garden, but there has always been something in the call of the wild places that speaks to my wildest heart.I go to the plants for teaching, for healing, and for medicine.Many people ask why I go to so much effort to wildcraft much of my medicine and a significant portion of food, when it could easily be grown in a garden?I respond, the wild things have a special teaching for us, in this age of disconnect and alienation from nature, that we are still so dependent upon.
The wild plants I go to for medicine and food are tough creatures, they endure the harshest extremes of weather, water scarcity, bugs, fire, and climate change, and yet they persist.They are rich and resilient in the face of challenge.Those wild plants have a strength from which we can both learn from and benefit from medicinally or nutritionally.Plants grown in wild soils that are rich in nutrients are almost always more nutritionally dense than their cultivated counterparts grown in depleted agricultural soils, they endure the extremes and develop compounds that are strong and medicinal in order to resist such challenges.And that is just the beginning of the benefits of using wild plants for food and medicine, but there is more.
Contrary to that woman’s belief about harvesting from the wild, wildcrafting both food and medicine brings me in closer contact with the ever changing environment on which I live and depend, it fosters an intimacy with both the creatures in the environment and the needs of that environment.My regular forays to certain spots through all the seasons teaches me about the cycles which our landscape moves through, I become aware of small changes that might go unnoticed by untrained eyes, but can mean significant environmental changes.I notice when a particular plant population is growing, expanding and becoming ever healthier, or likewise, when a plant population is retreating, getting smaller or moving.In noting these changes I can act responsibly as an herbalist, wildcrafter and inhabitant of the land, by sowing seeds, refraining from harvesting, or encouraging growth and expansion.I notice the years in which little rain fell, and familiar plants are sparse or not present at all.I have seen chaparral bushes brown and drop leaves, and prickly pear turn red and shrivel in response to a particularly long winter drought, and I have seen washes flood in the overabundance of summer rain, ripping out trees by the roots, exposing new rocks and covering over embankments with fresh silt and sand, thus changing the landscape permanently, and influencing the subsequent growth of plants in that area.When I am wildcrafting I notice which animals are also harvesting from the plants, and work in concert, always aware enough to leave more than plenty for the other inhabitants of the landscape, including the soils which take in discarded leaf litter and plant stalks and transform it into mineral rich humus for the next seasons growth of plants.I very rarely wildcraft for the sake of taking plants home solely for medicine or food.I wildcraft for the sake of experiencing the plants in their wild home, for the sake of becoming intimate with the changing moods and needs of my landscape, for the sake of reconnecting myself deeply with the earth, which provides everything I am dependent on, and for the sake of falling in love each day with the stark beauty of this land of extremes and contrasts; of drought and fire, of rain and rushing waters, of tropical vines and giant cactus, of riparian bosques and mountain pine forests.
Join me for the next Medicinal and Edible Plant Walk. Now that summer is upon us, we'll head up into the mountains for a bit of relief from the heat, and enjoy the shade of the trees. Learn the medicinal, edible and functional uses of our native plants, and the prolific naturalized weeds. Experience the plants first hand in their environment: touch, smell, taste, see and even learn to hear what the plants have to offer us. This will be a easy to moderate walk, with no strenuous hiking. The ground is uneven, so please be prepared with good walking shoes. Please bring plenty of water, food, sun and weather protection, notebook, camera and any other note taking tools you would like to use to record our journey with the plants.
We will meet @ the parking lot of the Eclectic Cafe @ Sabino Canyon Road and Tanque Verde Road at 8 am sharp for carpooling. Please bring your Catalina Mountains Pass if you have one and are willing to be a driver. RSVP to Darcey @ blueturtlebotanicals@gmail
Though it really hasn't felt like it for the last month and a half with freezing temperatures, frosty mornings and a heavy heart, spring is now just around the corner. It was a beautiful warm day, though I know in other places around the country people are struggling to stay warm. I couldn't resist the urge to head out to the washes to check on the progress of the plants. Some of the first spring plants I'll be collecting live in the washes which periodically fill with water and run over the roads and feed the lush riparian growth in and around them with life sustaining water. First among those is usually the cottonwood buds. Our local populus fremontii starts to swell with buds in late January and early Februrary. I walked along under the many tall cottonwoods, checking lower branches for resinous buds, and found that most of the trees were not quite ready, with only terminal buds (but gooey and resinous indeed.) There were a few trees with giant swelling buds covered in a thick, sticky and fragrant resin which works so wonderfully as an oil for painful, inflammed joints, muscles, burns and more. The small portion I did gather today went straight into sesame oil and onto the pilot light of the stove to warm. I'll add to it as I gather more buds in the next few weeks. I never seem to make enough of this oil, as I run out every year just before budding time. It goes into almost any concoction in which a mild pain reliever is indicated and works its magic every time. Interesting to note that the cottonwoods in this particular area seem to be quite heavy with mistletoe. Hard to see when the trees are fully leafed out, it was strikingly obvious to see the bright green leafy mistletoe against the white empty branches of the cottonwoods.
Along the same washes grow the mexican elders (sambucus mexicana) which flower in April and fruit in June. But the elder trees were already leafing out today in the warm sun and my excitement for the coming season grows. I'll be back in early April to harvest the elder flowers, and another favorite plant, the milky oat seeds. There was no trace of the oats that I know grow in this wash yet, but they'll make their appearence soon.
Last seasons cudweed flowers and stalks were brown and crispy and there wasn't any sign of new growth under the blanket of dry, crunchy cottonwood leaves, yet. But the sun is warm, we've had several good rain and snow storms this winter, and I'm looking forward to a very fruitful season, in the meantime I still must be patient with nature and myself as the changes and transitions around me continue to unfold...
A bit belated, here is my post on harvest for the blog party! It's been an incredibly busy harvest season for me, the month of September full of scrambling for the last of the herbs on the mountain tops, and securing some source of steady income.
But as October begins, I can feel the dramatic shift in the energy of the earth and living things around me. Yesterday I spent the morning harvesting apples and pecans at a local organic orchard. It was a blustery day, the wind blowing in the first of hopefully main fall/winter rain storms. And today was cool, breezy and downright pleasant. I love October.
I planted more seeds in my garden this morning, and it seems a bit strange that I should be planting during harvest season, but the the rhythms of the desert have always been unique, and require a bit of adaptation from traditional seasonal traditions.
My contribution for this months blog party is a piece about the Autumn Equinox that I wrote several years ago as I was exploring and recording my experiences and growing relationship with the seasons of the Sonoran Desert.
Enjoy!
In mid-September, we arrive at the autumn equinox.This signals the “official” start of fall according to Western Calender, and it is in September that we notice the change from summer to fall in the SonoranDesert.By the beginning of September the monsoon rains have all but disappeared.The sky is bright blue bowl, empty except for the bright and warm sun.Afternoon temperatures are again high without the cooling wind and rains.But other signs of the shift away from summer are everywhere.Like Lughnasadh, we are still in a time of harvest.This is our last chance to really gather the fruits of the desert; prickly pear, mesquite pods, and manzanita.But alas the days are shortening, noticeably.Dawn comes later and later, and desert dwellers who make a habit of rising early to escape the summer sun will notice the darkness where once the sky was pink and light.You might also notice the significant drop in evening and morning temperatures.Instead of humid and warm in the 70’s or 80’s, many mornings are in the 60’s.There is a decided nip on bare skin now.A sure sign of fall, across the country is the return of students to school.In the southwest this is also a time increased activity in the out of doors and the time for gardening.Though that may seem counter intuitive to someone accustomed to snow and freezing temperatures, here in the Sonoran desert winter offers a RESPITE from the rigours of extreme summer heat and is in most cases quite mild and pleasant.The cultivated plants, flowers and vegetables that fill southwestern gardens rejoice, just as the people do, for the relief from burning sun.
Harvest and Sacrifice
Like August, September is still a time of Harvest from the wild desert plants.The last of the prickly pear fruits, the mesquite pods, and summer annuals like amaranth or warm weather garden crops like chiles and melons.And so we start putting up the bountiful desert harvest for the leaner and drier season ahead.Soon the year will be coming to a close at Samhain, and like at Lammas it is time to turn inward to reap the harvest of all growing and learning we set out to do in the past year.What have you paid special attention to, giving it love and nurturing, what is ready to harvest within your own life?Perhaps it is the joy of a close relationship lover, family or friend. Perhaps it is the financial security of working hard at your work.Perhaps it is inner peace you’ve learned to maintain, even in the face of challenges.Whatever it might be, recognize the work you have done to reap this bountiful harvest.We should also remember to look back at what we may have lost or had to sacrifice to the tulmultous summer storms.What have you decided to let go of in your life? A relationship that was not healthy, an unfulfilling job, or some other grand plan that you somehow didn’t find the time for?The time of the harvest is when we begin to notice what we may have lost, as well as what we have gained in the last year.Perhaps we mourn our losses, maybe you feel fear at having let go of something that offered safety, or comfort.Now is the time to reflect back on those things, recongnize the reasons why they had to be sacrificed, why they were washed away with the summer rains.But do not forget to think about by breaking free from old habits or sacrificing we are indeed opening the door to new GROWTH and space for positive and healthful things to grow in our lives.The saying, “Where a door closes, another window is open,’ is true here.Sometimes we must let go of things that are holding us back or making us unhappy for new opportunities to arise in our lives.By breaking free of the past, like trees being washed away in a flash food, the landscape of our lives changes, where once there were bridges there are now rifts, but now there is room to build new bridges, for new trees and plants to get established.The Harvest is the time to rejoice in what we have gained, and what we have lost in the past year.We are harvesting our OWN growth, and what we’ve created in our own lives.
Growth/Garden/Increased Activity
One particular difference between our dark season here in the desert and that of most of temperate North America and Europe is the increased actitivity.Here in the desert we are rejoicing for the coming cold. For the last 4-5 months we’ve been doing our best to handle the heat and extreme weather conditions,our gardens in a holding pattern, waiting out the intense heat and sun. By the time of equinox we are ready to get outside and play again.The evening temperatures are falling, and though still warm during the day, we know the cooler, milder days are coming.Our activity will begin to increase as the light wanes but the temperatures become more pleasant.In traditional seasons winter is the time of rest, of contemplation, and quiet, staying close to home and family.Here in the desert, winter is a time of celebration.People will start going out and hiking, exploring the desert and getting close to nature.Near the equinox, gardeners start to plant their gardens, vegetables and flowers that are withering in colder climates, are just putting out leaves and buds.In a sense we are Harvesting the new growth and increased activity, after the challenges and tumult of the summer.The weather is calmer, and our lives become a little more carefree, easy going, and energized.The holiday season is approaching and we are celebrating family and friends and the blessing of year-round sunshine.
As you begin to feel the stirrings of increased energy within your body, the equinox would be a good time to decide what projects and activities you would like to devote that increased energy to. Getting out and connecting with the earth is a wonderful way to take advantage of the season.Go hike, get to know the desert creatures, cactus, lizards, birds and winter flowers, sit on the earth, let her life force flow into you and fill you with energy.Perhaps you want to create a garden, growing flower or vegetables will channel your energy into connecting with life on earth. Caring for each plant with the love and attention it deserves.Watch the plants you tend carefully, some days a particular plant may jump out at you, begging to be seen, to be caressed and to share it’s wisdom with you.
It is also wise to turn this increased energy inward, as part of the “dark” season.The dark season is the time for inner work, though our outer life has become more active.Make sure to invest some of your time reflecting and working with your shadow side.While you may be running around full of energy and doing projects during the day, the nights ARE longer, and evenings provide ample time for sitting with yourself and delving into those sensitive, hurt and dark places you might prefer to ignore.
Darkness
The equinox heralds the coming of the dark half of the year.In the desert the darkness is unique.The nights become long and even cold.Though outwardly we are active. The dark half of the year is important in our spiritual life.It provides the time and seriousness to address our shadow side.The equinox is the beginning of this process.Perhaps at Lughnasadh you began to think about those deep dark places you wanted to work with this season.Equinox is the time to solidify your intentions, affirm your desire to work on those particular aspects of yourself.This is the time to make a plan of how you endeavor to delve into the pain and fear that hides within, causing us sadness, anger, or denial.How can you commit yourself to dealing with the pain buried there?Can you make a weekly commitment to journal, meditate or otherwise express those hidden feelings?Will you endeavor to make one small effort each day?
Don’t forget to take time for quiet and rest during this dark time as well.Increased activity requires ample rest and relaxation as well.Perhaps you can devote a few hours soley to yourself each week.Take a relaxing nap, or a bath, or just sit and breathe fresh air seated under a tree. Hug yourself, comfort yourself, honor your rhythms and cycles just as you honor the earth’s cycles and rythms.When you feel the need to rest, do so, when you feel the urge to cry or let out your anger, do so, in a safe and constructive manner.We all need release and the dark season creates a space to do that, while by yourself, or in the company of soul friends.But remember not to wallow in sadness or darkness, or to place blame on yourself or anyone else, this is a time for release and inner healing.
Balance
Like the Vernal Equinox, this is a time of Balance.The Daylight and the Nighttime are equal in length.We are in a season of moderation: neither extremely hot nor cold.While the earth around us hovers in balance around the time of the equinox, we too find ourselves returning to balance. The equinox is a time to ‘rebalance.”What exactly is balance?Is it moderation, or is it more like a pendulum, that sways back in forth, ever in balance with the earth’s movement?What in your life is already in balance, echoing the seasonal balance?What in your life needs balancing?Think about ways you might bring more balance into your life.Does that mean working less and spending more time with your family? Does that mean challenging yourself to take on new activities or roles that you have been avoiding?Whatever it is in your life that could use a breath of fresh air and balancing, make some commitments to yourself about how you will accomplish that change.Write them down in your journal, or on index cards, decorated to your liking and posted around your house.You might even want to create or take part in a “balancing” ritual or ceremony.Remember to balance the increased activity and energy focused towards projects in the cool and pleasant desert winter and the time for inner work, quiet, rest and healing in the darkness.
It is easy for us to stay fixed in one position for so long that we forget to visit the alternatives, we can easy become unbalanced, working too many hours, eating too much, or focusing too much on the negative within our lives.The equinox is a good time to really take stock of your life, inner and outer, and find what feels out of balance, what needs more attention.But it isn’t useful to look at ourselves, find a flaw in our “balance” and then feel guilty or self-defeating about it.Look at this as an opportunity to make changes.You can only learn from your past and mistakes you have made.Think about your life more as a journey of learning, rather than a set of right and wrong choices.Everything we have done has made us who we are, and we have hopefully learned from the choices that have caused us pain or hardship. Look back with joy and thankfulness at your life and take the lessons you have learned to make positive and healthy changes in your life now.
Thanksgiving
The fall equinox is often called the ‘Pagan Thanksgiving.”Though many new things are starting their growth during the mild desert winter, it is nearing the end of the rich and lush summer of abundance.We have much to give thanks for, much to be grateful for.I always give thanks for the coming coolness, and mild weather in the winter, allowing me to spend more time outside, in nature, and in my garden.It is time to be THANKFUL for the blessings of the season, for the abundance of the great Mother Earth, and the harvest YOU have worked for all summer long.It is time to reflect on what we have accomplished and learned, and give thanks for those lessons and accomplishments. It is also a good time to celebrate the bounty of the season and the Earth. I like to celebrate with family and friends and a bountiful feast featuring foods of the season, apples, squash, prickly pears, and mesquite.
A leaf, on fire. A blazon, star of autumn. Herald of coming chill. --Darcey Blue French
It is the time of balancing. Today is the autumn equinox, here in the desert we are celebrating the end of summer, and the coming of cooler days. Summer monsoon rains have disappeared, the days remain warm, but now the nights are cool.
The earth is at a juxtaposition between summer and winter at the equinox. It isn't summer any more, it is dry and the rains have stopped, the sunlight has a particular tinge of gold it casts upon the mountains and the palm fronds, the energy of summer has morphed into something different. But it isn't winter yet, either. It is still hot during the day, and the fruits of summer persist in the last flush of warmth. Plants are going mad in their last days of reproduction, producing flowers, fruits and seeds for the next season. Gardens are being planned for cool season harvests, and the return of students always perks up a sleepy summer pueblo with a zing of new energy and activity.
To me, the fall represents a strange blend of the increased activity of last minute harvests, food preservation, garden preparation, and cooler temperatures that allow for more time spent outside; and the increasing desire to retreat inward, reduce activity, and hunker down for the winter. A sort of hibernation.
It's a balancing act I feel quite poignantly, as I have many demands on my time right now, but the overwhelming urge I feel is to retreat inward, look within, and look at my own needs and preparations rather than those of the world around me. I'm constantly choosing between running out to the wildlands for harvesting the many herbs I need to restock my herbal apothecary for the coming months (I still need oodles of things like more raspberry leaves, more goldenrod, agrimony, passionflower, and desert lavender), picking the last of summer fruits for storing and eating during the winter months (I have yet to go pick prickly pear cactus fruits!), preserving and storing those fruits and herbs (canning fruits, cracking walnuts and acorns, stripping, garbling and storing the drying herbs), and finishing up the preparations on my new garden beds so I can plant winter hardy cool season crops that flourish in our mild winters here ( this means finishing the digging, amending and planting of a 60 sq ft bed all the while the days are still too hot to work in, unless it is before 8 am). All this, plus friends and collegues who need my attention, assistance and energy. Yet all I want to do some days is go up in the hills and lay down in the grass and just lay there, and ponder, I want to do more journalling, I want to start writing poetry again, I want to continue working on my lessons as an Anima student. I'm getting cranky with friends and loved ones who impinge on my time and privacy. I'm like a hibernating bear, scrambling to eat as many ripe berries as I can before the long dream sleep of winter, where I can rest and look inward at the many many aspects of myself that need attention. I'm longing for the security of a well stocked pantry, enough money to keep a roof over my head, and the time I need to care for myself, as well as take care of clients, customers and loved ones who desire my attention. It's a precarious balancing act indeed.
But I know the plants won't wait, if I wait too long, I'll miss the window, if I don't get my winter seeds planted in the next few weeks, the cold season could be too far along when they need to be growing.
So, as the Earth sits on this fulcrum between activity and rest, summer and winter, I sit on my own fulcrum of change. It's amazing to me how human life so closely can reflect that which is happening in nature. So many things are fruiting and flowering in my life, yet other things are on the verge of being let go, like leaves falling to the ground as mulch for the future seasons growth.
So as summer falls away and winter draws closer, I'm scurrying to finish everything I hope to, and looking forward to some quieter times in the near future for deeper reflection, and the security of much desired income so I can furnish my little nest of a house with some basics (a bed, for starters, among other things).
This week I'm heading to the hills for harvesting the higher elevation plants (raspberry, agrimony, monkeyflower if I'm lucky, more goldenrod and more marigold).
Happy Equinox to all, may you reap a beautiful harvest this fall!
"The mother of us all, the oldest of us all, Hard, splendid as rock, Let the beauty you love, be what you do. There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the earth"~ Rumi ~
In this unique program you will receive an in-depth, hands on and heart-centered lesson and herbal medicine for each quarter and cross quarter day for a full year. That is 8 lessons and 8 seasonally appropriate herbal medicines to help you balance and attune to the energies of the earth happening around you and within you. Plus access to a community of like minded spirits, and specific practices and suggestions for you from me as you explore!
In this unique program you will receive an in-depth, hands on and heart-centered lesson and herbal medicine for each quarter and cross quarter day for a full year. That is 8 lessons and 8 seasonally appropriate herbal medicines to help you balance and attune to the energies of the earth happening around you and within you. Plus access to a community of like minded spirits, and specific practices and suggestions for you from me as you explore!
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