Seed thought taken from Leaning into Mystery’s “Practicing Together” weekly series.

I noticed the wild geraniums are now blooming, as well as the greater celandine, lilacs, and kale. I also noticed the value of letting go, and how trust can bring peace to mind and heart.

This week, I invite in joy! I could use me some joy. :)

Ways this could happen: The best way for me to do this will be to take pleasure in the simple things, recognizing beauty as I find it, and don’t sweat the small stuff.

What went well: I did a several small witchcrafting projects, like making candles for the summer high days,  planting/transplanting herbs and flowers in my front bed, and renewing the whammie on my money jar with a piece of lightning-struck oak bark. Knitting and meditation went hand-in-hand, and I even got to experiment with Kool Aid yarn dyeing. The influence of the Maker and the Holy Earth were strong, and helped me get through what could have been a much harder week.

Updates: My goal of clarity didn’t really happen until this morning, but when it came it was all the more poignant.  And I did get another piece of Strategic Sorcery Homework done, though, so I should be able to finish up the course this summer.

I first learned about Joe-Pye weed (Eutrochium purpureum or Eupatorium purpureum if you’re going by Linnaeus’s classification) on a weed walk in western Pennsylvania, just outside of Pittsburg. The guide told a fascinating story of how a healer named Joe Pye helped the native tribes learn how to break fevers and treat typhus with the plant, and it became named in his honor. The plant cuts a striking silhouette, and quickly became my touchstone on the site because it was so easily recognizable.

Joe-Pye weed has a multitude of names: Trumpet-weed, Gravelweed, Joe-pye Weed, Jopi Weed, Queen-of-the-Meadow Root (interesting since Meadowsweet is often called Queen of the Meadow), Purple Boneset, and Hempweed. Grieve cites it as being named after a king of Pontus, Mithridates Eupator, who first used the plant as a remedy (1931).

Because of its fever-reducing qualities, and its love of swampy places, I tend to associate Joe-Pye Weed with Water, and by extension the Moon and/or Venus. Cunningham does not give any elemental or planetary designations, but does say that it can be used in matters of love and respect (2003, 148). Since Eutrochium purpureum is native to North America, it’s not surprising that Hopman make no mention of it, through truthfully I raised an eyebrow that Beyerl does not include it in his herbal either.

Even though many plants connected with Venus, the Moon, and Water end up being feminine by default, there’s something about Joe-Pye Weed that just comes across as male. Working with Joe-Pye Weed straightens the spine and opens the heart. A leaf marked with a sigil for Mars or Jupiter will help one command respect, but still be aware of the needs of others. By the same token, mark the leaf with a sigil for Venus for a confidence boost on a date.

Seed thought taken from Leaning into Mystery’s “Practicing Together” weekly series.

I noticed  the hawthorns blooming. I noticed the swans in the southwest, the red winged blackbirds in the north, the wood ducks in the northwest and the woodpecker in the east. I noticed the hum that comes from the land in the spring and summer, and discovered a new path through the white pine grove that I had never seen before.

This week, I invite in clarity. Clarity of purpose, clarity of motivation, clarity of action. I invite in the Dawn Shiner, and the true seeing that he brings.

Ways this could happen: Color breathing white and yellow. Entering the Eastern Gate in meditation. Invoking Mercury and the Sun in my morning practice.

What went well: Embracing spontaneity served me very well. I was able to adapt to different needs during our grove Beltane ceremony, and take advantage of the coincidences and synchronicities that where available to me. This resulted in an open, sensitive ritual, and an impromptu meal of garlic mustard pesto later in the week!

Updates: More oghams gathered—hawthorn for Huathe and a new piece of pine for Ailim. I’ve decided to leave the bark on the fews, which means I also need to replace the willow stick. Both it and the old pine few have taken up residence in my crane bag, though, so nothing is wasted.

Seed thought taken from Leaning into Mystery: Practicing Together #14.

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I noticed sliding down a mountain on your butt will only result in torn trousers and possibly holey undies as well. (In other words, Mt. Monadnock kicked my ass!) Actually, I noticed a bunch of other things, too, like the large numbers of hemlocks, paper & silver birches, and some tiny yellow flowers I haven’t identified as yet.

I also noticed, or more came to the conclusion, that I really can’t learn ogham without building a relationship with the associated tree first. Suddenly, the fews make sense, because they are all on different types of wood, each with its own story. It’s still going to be a slow system for me to learn, and the adage “fast as speeding oak” certainly applies here.

This week, I invite in spontaneity. I have a couple of rituals coming up this weekend and I need to let myself be open to the magic that happens with chance. I had a dream last night that I took everyone down to the Grove for Beltaine, but the pages of the script were scattered all over the ground like leaves. So folks just picked up whatever piece was near them and began reading it. And was still ok!

Ways this could happen: maybe make a script grab bag, where everyone pulls out a strip of paper with a Beltaine phrase or idea, and applies it to his or her ritual part? Or I could just relax and enjoy the experience rather than trying to plan out every last detail.

UntitledWhat went well: I ended up processing a variety of difficult things last week. But I feel purged and more ready to tackle whatever comes next. I also managed to work around the lack of crafting space fairly well, appropriating the kitchen table to finish up a sigil commission.

Updates: The Strategic Sorcery Walpurgisnacht meditation was quite powerful. I really felt recentered in that work. Not to mention the fact that having completed the planetary sigils qualifies as one of my homework assignments. And on the ogham front, I cut three more fews this weekend: barberry for Straif (in lieu of blackthorn), apple for Qwert, and euonymous for Oir. We’re now up to seven out of twenty-five!

Playing catchup for week 17 of PBP.

Honeysuckles are cleansing, consuming and digesting, and therefore no way fit for inflammations. Take a leaf and chew it in your mouth and you will quickly find it likelier to cause a sore mouth and throat than cure it. If it be not good for this, what is it good for? It is good for something, for God and nature made nothing in vain.  —Culpepper quoted in Grieve 1931.

So many of the plants that I’m talking about in this series were significant in my childhood. I’m beginning to feel a bit repetitive when I find myself writing “When I was a kid…” over and over again. But it seems that many of the relationships I have with plants were begun when I was young, and many of my memories and experiences date back to that time. Honeysuckle is another one of those plants. He was one of the first (along with wild blackberries) that I learned to identify as safe to eat (the nectar, NOT the berries!), and I remember going outside nearly daily to bury my nose in his fragrant flowers. The variety that grew in our back yard had a mix of white and creamy yellow flowers, and I found the scent both calming and uplifting.

There are hundreds of species of honeysuckle (Lonicera), most being native to Europe and Asia, several of which become invasive when introduced outside their native ranges. Much like clematis, is likes to have cool feet and a sunny top—that is, roots in the shade and sun on the leaves—and can be found on the edge of the woods. It blooms prolifically in the summer, and seeds itself with just as much gusto.

There is quite a bit of magical lore surrounding Honeysuckle. Grieve says Culpepper associates him with Mercury,  Cancer, and Leo, which makes him a good ally for negating problems caused by Jupiter (at least in regard to physical health problems). Meanwhile, Cunningham associates him with Jupiter and Earth, for magical purposes, making him a good addition to money spells as well as being protective and an aid in perceiving non-physical realities (2003, 140); Hopman concurs about his ability to increase both money and psychic ability (1995, 50), though like Culpepper she prefers the associate of Mercury to Jupiter (124). Personally, I associate Honeysuckle with Mercury and Air, which results in dealing with money problems by negating any negative influences from Jupiter, rather than drawing on Jupiter’s money-making qualities directly. Cunningham doesn’t draw any connections  to specific deities, but Beyerl states that Honeysuckle may be used to pass through the mysteries of Cerridwen’s cauldron (1984, 225) and that the dried bark and wood make an excellent autumn incense when ground (333); Beyerl also says that honeysuckle flowers should grace the ritual circle at the Vernal Equinox (329), but this is a hard thing to achieve as the plant doesn’t usually bloom until June!

A useful meditation to connect more deeply with the Honeysuckle spirit can be begun by sitting either at the base of a physical plant, or by anointing yourself with honeysuckle essential oil or hold a branch or flower of the plant to anchor yourself to his energies. As you breath slowly in and out, inhaling the fragrance of the flowers or oil, let the plant wrap around and enfold you in his twining vines. Rather than being consumed or smothered, I usually find that Honeysuckle will begin lifting you upwards, carrying you on his branches until you’re cradled in nothing but vines and sky. What do you notice from this new perspective? Just rest and let your thoughts move in and out with your breath, and the breath of the Honeysuckle. When you’re ready to come down, ask him to lower you gently back into your body. Feel yourself on firm ground, anchored and secure in your physical body. Ask Honeysuckle if there is anything you can do in return and wait for his answer. Thank the plant for helping you connect with the larger spirit, and ground out any excess energy.

Seed thought taken from Leaning into Mystery: Practicing Together #13.

I noticed that the oaks, magnolias, and cherry trees all started blooming within the past few days. I also noticed this song by Peter Gabriel running through my head much of the week:

Let it out and move on
Missing what’s gone
They say life carries on
They say life carries on and on and on

Life carries on
In the people i meet
In everyone that’s out on the street
In all the dogs and cats
In the flies and rats
In the rot and the rust
In the ashes and the dust
Life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on

It’s just the car that we ride in
A home we reside in
The face that we hide in
The way we are tied in
And life carries on and on and on and on
Life carries on and on and on

Did I dream this belief?
Or did i believe this dream?
Now i can find relief
I grieve

This week, I invite in tears. I need them, and I know others do as well. We’ve held it together, now it’s time to let Water do it’s work.

Ways this could happen: I really don’t know, but allowing myself to cry and not holding that back would be a great thing.

What went well: Planted some heather (both purple and white!) and pansies; also began clearing the front beds to be seeded over the next week with herbs and wildflowers. Also, the chickens are now in their coop! Today was my first day of pooper-scooper duty—it was really satisfying to see the teenage chicken rolling around in the fresh pine chips.

Updates: Ovate work is coming along nicely. I have two Mayday activities to plan for and with any luck I can get the script for one written within the next week. I also have a sigil commission to complete, as well as some luscious new green yarn that I won in a raffle for my knitting group. Projects abound and life does indeed go on.

 

Deep within the still center of my being, may I find peace.
Silently within the quiet of the Grove, may I share peace.
Gently, within the greater circle of humankind, may I radiate peace.

The Druid Prayer for Peace

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