“I read once about a sacred place in South America built into a tree, or a tree who had become part of the place with time. I always see shafts of light cutting through Copal smoke, old red earth stone, and tree roots when I picture it. Reading your message, your shamble reminds me of that”.. these were the beautiful words given to me when I messaged Walking Bear about my idea to turn my entire workroom into an altar.
He said to me, sometime around Yule-ish of last, how my room was like one big shamble. This had been rattling around in my head ever since and with the area around my altar slowly changing, I decided it was to be so. I couldn’t shake it. I liked the idea of being surrounded by spirit (and those objects of) as opposed to sitting before them.
Lola surprised me with a visit that Saturday, luckily enough (maybe more so for me than for her), and I put her little bum to work helping me.. not all of a witch’s work is done in the spiritual after all and she needed the distraction. I am now well on my way to my witchtopian paradise. I hope that I at least inspired some movement.. however that is neither here nor there of my business and she must walk her own path. So we spent the rest of the day lounging on the new meditation bed speaking of things unrelated.
Later in the week, on a much warmer day, I finally ventured out into the garden with a big glass of wine. It was time to do the pruning and clearing out. It is always a painful task.. to rid oneself of the fallen and to brutally slice down those in need of fresh growth. This is the way of life and craft.
I lost my rosemary, sheared the sage, and was viciously attacked by the roses.. another good start. I saw a bit of mint poking about and the wormwood was thriving like crazy cakes. I’ve always had a good relationship with wormwood. I’ve yet to see the evil Melissa (the lemon balm that cares not for my boundaries) but there’s still time..