Monday, 29 October 2018

It's the time of the Crone

“Beware of organizations that proclaim their devotion to the light without embracing, bowing to the dark; for when they idealize half the world they must devalue the rest.”

t's the time of the Crone. Over the weekend I have two separate dreams. In one I call the elements and concentrate the powers into a chalice. I feel powerful and youthful. In another last night I am waiting for my Father to come for me in his car..He does not come and I feel vulnerable . Then I remember that I am sixty and that today I am meeting my son. These two dreams represent the polarity within me and I know that it is not time for my Father to take me to my ancestors. This is Samhain when the Veil between the world's is thin. Last night and over the weekend I glimpsed through that veil and there is a tradition t that at this time the recent dread look back. I will honour them today and remember them. 

I awake and, talk and think of the day. I awake to more news of Kentucky, Pittsburgh and pipe bombs. Trump lurks there and a new Fascist is elected in Brazil . A Woman who survived the Holacaust is killed by a Nazi in a Synagogue in the USA. Yet the light grows and with it hope....these times will pass...

I am called back to the World. There is a frost in Glanrhyd and the hills in the distance are beautiful. I set out saying farewell to Hayley and Bramble. As I wait for the bus I feel a sense of belonging that I have not felt for over 40 years I realise that's what I have been feeling since we moved there. At the time of the Crone near Samhain I am aware of my place in the cycle of life. The ancestors look on as I will look on in my turn. It will be a dance of many many years .But now on, this cold bright morning i am here on a Monday and on the way to see my son. He is the next stage in that cycle and I and the ancestors think of him and smile..." Up to the Goddess, down to the God, across the waves and into my heart...

“The Crone, the Reaper... She is the Dark Moon, what you don't see coming at you, what you don't get away with, the wind that whips the spark across the fire line. Chance, you could say, or, what's scarier still: the intersection of chance with choices and actions made before. The brush that is tinder dry from decades of drought, the warming of the earth's climate that sends the storms away north, the hole in the ozone layer. Not punishment, not even justice, but consequence.”

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