The late pumpkins enveloping half the garden are bawdy and proud. Lizards come out to talk, frogs make adventurous treks across open ground, pausing to croak a crotchety observation or two. The chickens continue to choose new hiding places for their eggs, I think they delight in our endless hunts.
For many of us, our shamanic practice is a way to enter into the animistic world of our ancestors. Less for healing others, we journey to reawaken our awareness of spirits that make up our world. Autumn is the time of year when I'm drawn most to those practices that pull me more deeply into the spirits of nature.
This is a time to make altars and offerings, a time for gratitude and preparation for the growing darkness. The new year looms for agrarian cultures, for us with the coming of Samhain.
|clutch of hidden treasure|
I recently spent a few weeks with my Mom. Her life partner, my Dad, died about a year and a half ago. I see her struggling with her own issues of renewal and vitality. Where will life lead her now? There are small seasonal changes in our lives, and great seasonal changes. I watch her and try to learn.
I'm also moved by the spirits I encounter in my shamanic work. Their new energy ensures my cauldron will continue to bubble, I am safe from stagnation. I learn and grow. Walking the land is an invitation for the spirits to fill me with ripeness.
I'm reminded of the resources for personal transformation that surround us always. Its impossible to be alone, its impossible to be without. When we say yes to the compassionate helping spirits we're given the chance to join in the celebratory cycles of planting and harvest. We're given the opportunity to renew our spiritual and emotional vitality. We might even find a new clutch of green eggs out in the tall grass by a fallen pine tree.