Today, by the way, is Lammas. The first of the three ancient harvest festivals as observed by the Celts, and by many other indigeonous peoples by various other names. No matter where it's observed the focus is on relishing and giving thanks for one's abundance. The Celts observed this day, the exact halfway point between the Summer Solstice and the Autumnal Equinox, usually falling around August 2nd, and this year falling on August 1st, as the day of the first cutting of the grain. Modern Day pagans have a chant that fits perfectly.
Hoof and Horn, Hoof and Horn,
All that die shall be reborn
Corn and Grain, Corn and Grain,
All that fall shall rise again
Last night, I spent some time out on the back porch looking up at the moon and letting my mind go quiet. I've been letting myself tense up over the upcoming new book release, only three days away now, and I know that being all tense and jittery about its performance is the best way for me to ensure it does less than it could. By being nervous, I'm confirming that I'm not certain it will do well. I have been trying to let go of it, to accept in peace and grace that it will reach everyone it's meant to reach, and that whatever it does is irrelevant. All that's relevant is that I choose to be joyful and to celebrate regardless of how many copies the book sells or what the reviews say.
As I consciously released my nervousness to the Universe under that big blue moon, two small bats swooped into my line of sight, and proceeded to dance and twirl around each other in sheer delight. They spun and whirled and flew right across the face of the moon, and then disappeared into the darkness beyond.
Good sign, right?
Today, the actual day of Lammas, I took my "pleather" bound journal up the little hill to my personal circle on the back lawn. There I have a large amethyst geode standing in the north, some wind chimes and glass crystal prisms in the east, a fire feature with glass like black stones in the south, and a solar powered fountain in the east. I have solar fairy lights in the trees, and tiki torches all around. There's a flat stone in the center. So I took my journal and a pencil and a bottle of water up there today, and I sat and meditated, and quieted my mind, and looked out over my home. The back yard, the house, the various projects going on everywhere you look. We're building the pond I always wanted, and it'll have a stream running into it, and a waterfall. Right now it's a big hole in the ground slowly filling with muddy water, but it's the unfolding that's the fun part. First it's a wish, and then the means show up to make it a reality and then you watch it being born, this thing that you wished for, becoming reality. Manifestation actually happening, right in front of my eyes. And as I sat there, I thought, "We're REALLY doing this." And I wrote that down.
I took the time to truly bask in every single thing Lance and I have wished for, and given birth to in this co-creative experience we're sharing together. It took a lot of practice, a lot of consistent readjusting of our focus (mine more than his, but he's younger--less baggage!) But we got here. We're in a place now where we know that we can have and do and be anything we desire, simply by raising our vibration to the required level.
In my circle, I wrote all this and more, and then I spent time sitting in each of the quarters, meditating on the elements and giving thanks for their gifts. My storytelling ability, my inspiration, my muse, my inner child who will never grow up, my sense of whimsy, all come to me from the East, the realm of Air in my tradition. My passion and vitality, my inner vixen, my hot mamma, they all come from the South, and Fire. My capacity for emotion, and my favorite feeling in the Universe, LOVE, all come to me from the West, as does the graceful confidence and deep wisdom of maturity. And the
North is where I live, the realm of Earth, and all things physical. I spent a lot of time praising North for this home, this planet, this body, this entire reality that I'm living. Then I moved to the center, and thought about the symbol of the Tree of Life, which the Celts called Bile (Beel-ya) and the Norse called Yggdrasil and the Hebrew call Kabbala and the Navii call the Tree of Souls. The tree is me. (And you.) My head resides in the Great Above, the land of elevated souls, deities, guides, angels. I don't just have access to it, I live within it. My feet, my roots, extend into the Great Below, where I am connected by every one of my ancestors. Imagine how many had to live in order for me to be born. Imagine how many will be born because I lived. A direct connection. And the trunk of the Tree of Life is Middle Earth, the land where humans reside, the physical world.
As human beings we exist in all three realms simultaneously. The physical us is focused on the physical. But there's a spiritual us, and an ancestral us, too, (I always visualize my most ancient me as the first Slayer, from Buffy. And I've visited her in dreams and visions.) So we can always influence all that is, was, and shall be.
My Lammas day was one of relishing everything in my life, and acknowledging that the very best time ever is this time, right here, right now. What a wonderful feeling.
And then on the way back to the house, I chanted all the way, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou....
Just like at the end of this, Lisa Thiel's Lammas Song.