Greetings, Pagani, from the wet, emerald green and blustery spectacle of the not-so-wild Midwest. Our autumn has been late, and less colorful than in other years, but the promise of night is still extant – sidling up to the window and scratching at the door, whispering little songs in sibilant languages and speaking frankly about death. The weather is large, and dramatic – enormous clouds boulder and slash across the sky, which often has that gorgeous sheen that builds in the human eye just before weeping, that makes the blue look…saturated with a breathless joy. I stop often to take big gasping breaths of the Mama’s gifts. And sometimes my eyes water with the wind, or the wonder, and then I am the Mama, and my eyes are the sky, and she is me, but bigger then me, and then I grin a lot, and I have an apple.
Other than that, I’m at a loss these wet and grand weeks. Driving in the lightning gray steel evenings through the mind-erasing rain, I make a lot of wishes. It’s wish country here around this time of year. I light some candles on the altar of my ancestors and look into their eyes and dream. I grapple and wrestle. I pray. Sometimes I hear nothing. So I go on wishing.
Sometimes a blog post pops into the middle of the wishing and the praying. But not this week. This week, there is only the beds of weeds, all soaked, and a single dying wasp on the sidewalk. I with my shroud of crabapple leaves and shaking water off of the ragged bottom of my jeans, helping her into the dark between two blades of Oz-green grass and whispering to her a peaceful Return.
Beth said,
October 19, 2007 at 4:56 pm
You are awesome. Thanks!
gospelpagan said,
October 19, 2007 at 5:08 pm
-S
Pax said,
October 19, 2007 at 7:01 pm
Sara,
Your words are like a guide post towards living a the Pagan faiths day in and day out. You evoke the sense of wonder and interconnectedness that are so much a part of being a Pagan and sometimes are so hard to share with others, even other Pagani.
Thank you,
Pax / Geoffrey Stewart
gospelpagan said,
October 19, 2007 at 7:22 pm
Thank you so much, Geoffrey!
-S
Hecate Demetersdatter said,
October 20, 2007 at 12:13 am
If you could send some of that rain Eastwards, I’d be v. grateful, and my herbs and oak trees would be ecstatic.
Michael Bright Crow said,
October 20, 2007 at 1:52 pm
Sara,
Somehow, my whole life, I’ve always longed for the so-called dreary, rainy Autumn days.
The silence of rain. The settling back into the earth of life which has over-extended itself and wants a rest.
When I was a kid, my mostest favoritest thing to do was to spend a rainy day lying on the glider on the screened-in back porch of our small town Ohio home, cuddled in a blanket, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, drinking Kool-Aid, and reading Doctor Dolittle.
Ages later, I’m feeling like an elderly orphan…but something still settles me about such rain.
Blesséd Be,
Michael
signmom said,
October 21, 2007 at 3:46 am
Thank you so much for this lovely place. I live in South Florida and I’ve been here long enough that I can’t even really remember what it feels like, deep in the soul feels like, to be in the presence of autumn. Your words here made something deep inside of me smile and remember….
signmom said,
October 24, 2007 at 2:55 am
I love your blog so much that I’ve tagged you…come over to my blog to see what’s up!