My spells are simple and often brought together by necessity, the light of the moon, and the tug of my heart.
For a year, I’ve had flowers drying in my bedroom since a working with Persephone. The flowers were meant to entice her, to bring her back from the land of the shadows, back into the arms of springtime and her mother.
All year, I would pass these flowers and they would send their scent into my heart, as though they were still green.
They smelled of waking up and they reminded me of my family’s garden growing up. Lilacs, I think.
Calling to the Moon
I could talk about the way a heart breaks, but you already know. I could describe the way a heart flinches and cowers at the ‘too much’ of this surprising world.
But you already know.
I could tell you about emptiness and loneliness and the way even the godds seem quiet and gone. But I would also have to tell you that I curl in like a flower at night. That I turn inward and away.
But the moon often calls me back. Calls me back to the fullness of reaching out, of being wider and open, stretched from edge to edge. Arms around the one who knows my name and reminds me that I can be held.
In all of it.
A Spell for Renewing
As the moon fills, I found myself wandering around my house. I collected the flowers that kept singing their scent to me.
I also grabbed roses (dried and fresh), offerings from altars (lapis, smooth sea glass, amber), dried plants from spells, a blessing oil, the smallest spiral shell, a piece of my hair, something for the gods that called out as I assembled the pieces, and a paper that read: Allow Her to Hold You.
(And more. And whispers. And requests. And prayers.)
I have no idea where that slip of paper came from. But as I wandered in the spell-making-trance, it jumped out at me. Why haven’t you been allowing the godds to hold you? Why haven’t you trusted in the magick of sacred relationships? Why have you thought that you had to deal with all of ________ by yourself?
Trust in the fullness of the moon.
Give your worries and your wondering.
Give your worries and your wondering.
Give your worries and your wondering.
And I cover the offerings in honey.
I want the sweetness. I bless your sweetness. I bless the ones who sing in my ear.
I invite in the dripping, crystalline movement that covers and holds and soothes.
Under the moon.
Under charged candle and an ongoing sigil spell, the magick will burn and warm the gifts given freely to the godds.
Offered as healing to myself.
To entice me from the shadows.
Opening to fullness of being held.
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