A Sunday Psalm for the New Month
A praise-song for the Beloved, to help us remember our roots, our sustenance, and our vision. And especially our calling to be here at this time.
A praise-song for the Beloved, to help us remember our roots, our sustenance, and our vision. And especially our calling to be here at this time.
On this day of Love, let us honor our bodies, claim our power, and work to end systemic abuse, by waging a war of love in every way that we can.
Imbolc is our holy time of healing, hope, and renewal. The curtain rises on a bright new year, and the changing of the age. Come celebrate with me.
With love and deepest gratitude, I invite you to join me in honoring this holy day that is dedicated to this Great Goddess of my ancestral people.
It is by my service to this Goddess that I call myself a Priestess of Illumination; I tend and share Her flames of creativity, rebirth, and healing.
You may recall this from the funeral service for Jackie Kennedy Onassis. I’ve always loved it. May it be a gift of farewell to the end of this year.
Each Lughnasadh, it’s my tradition to share this sublime Mary Oliver poem. Let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Last year, I wrote a retraction (of sorts) regarding the snakes vs. Patrick on this holiday. This year, weary of squabbles, I offer an alternative.
“The opposite of war is not peace, it’s creation.” Let us honor dear Brighid, Goddess of renewal, healing, poetry, and creativity with vows of peace.
I woke up this morning, with this poem that I’ve long loved running through my head. I am sure I needed it, and I bet you might, too. Yes. Yes. Yes.