Magic for a dark night

24 hours of magic. That was my weekend. It started with a Feri gathering in Seattle on Saturday evening. We did some mediation and chanting about Godsoul. There are no coincidences, and I was only mildly surprised that the chants overlapped with some work that I’ve been doing in relation to some non-blogged about stuff. I’ve woven those words in with my daily practice and that dovetailed nicely into the work with the group.

These days everything – everything – is about soul alignment. Listening, observing, sitting still, aligning, silence. In fact, I almost feel like I’m violating the very clear mandate for silence by writing, keeping a blog, being online at all. Almost, but not quite.

Sunday morning I prepped for some evening ritual. Even though it was grey and raining here, I figured I could take advantage of whatever celestial forces were at play with the solar eclipse and dark moon. I sat, aligned, made kala, drew some tarot cards. I went outside and sat. I cleaned all the altars (all three of them).

Once the kids were asleep I sat and prepared for my Work. I aligned (again, never ending!) and made offerings, asked for whatever wisdom needed to be imparted, asked for any allies to come forth. Then I went out into my back yard and my outside altar, which is tucked into a corner, sheltered from the rain. I lit candles and sat some more.

I basically just observed my backyard at twilight. I walked around, touching, smelling, watching. What I noticed is that for all the happy, cheery qualities of the garden  it’s almost all non-native species. I got a strangely sinister feel in the half-light. It was sort of like seeing the usually happy, cheery person you’re used to in a moment of bitter snark when they think no one is listening.

Standing at the far side of the garden is one lonely fir-tree. A strange thing, out of place among all the bright colors of lilac and rhododendrons and other things I don’t know the names of. Last night I sat and watched it from across the yard and I got a sense that it was shouting, “OH THANK GOD SOMEONE SEES ME.” So I went over and let the rain fall on my head and just ‘held its hand.’ I gave it my offering of Washington wine. I think I found my garden friend.

I went back inside and did a tarot reading. No surprise here: silence and waiting came up. Nothing bad, just that forces are moving underneath, let them do their thing, breakthrough/something new will happen soon when the time is right.