[The homeless man] staggered to his feet again, unsteadily weaving, trying to catch his balance and muttering, more like a person in a mystic trance than like one drunk. Before the doors opened, he paused and looked directly into my eyes. After several long seconds of our staring he spoke, clearly and cogently, "Look at the Temple. Thank you." The doors opened, he walked out onto the platform, arms spread and head tilted toward the gathering rain clouds above. I wondered if he would catch the train he needed. The doors closed again, and I returned to his words, that had penetrated to my core: "Look at the Temple."
Indeed. Elijah had spoken and there is work for me in the prophecy that fell upon my ears. I am thankful I was open enough to hear them today and wonder what will unfold.
Magic is every place and any moment.
I am off to Baltimore first thing in the morning and will carry thoughts of the Temple with me. Blessed be.
I left the gathering, my heart stretched with tenderness for my friends, and also beginning to contract with worry and mounting anxiety.
It only took me several steps on Cortland Avenue until the world interjected and had something pithy to say. There, in a window of a small shop, was a big red poster with white lettering. "Calm down, and Carry On", it simply stated. Yes, indeed.
Calming down, is of course, hard. Breathing helps, and slowing down thoughts. Carrying on, well, that's hard too, but it's made easier by the world carrying some of the burden of the ongoing conversation. Cock your ear, and really, the world, it just won't shut up.
Thankfully, it's pretty darn smart. Carrying on, we would all do well to deeply listen.
are getting messages.
There's a full moon in Libra tonight. Go listen to what it, the World, your Spirit Guides, your Higher Self has to say.
I love what Deborah says about Pagans:
[W]e Pagans have something to offer. We know how to carry on mytho-poetic conversations with the world, and any rich conversation like that makes human life a hell of a lot more meaningful, if not more interesting.
"I was the I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms. I was the Pagan carrying on a mytho-poetic conversation with the world." Carve those words on my gravestone and you'll have told the truth.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."