This sabbat, this season is about the much lost energy of benevolent male sovereignty. This is the day of the power of the Emperor, the King (not the lord or the prince).
artist unknown
I intentionally use an image of a white man, because this is where we need these energies revival the most.
Men, when one has undergone the trials and tribulations of society pushing one into a role which you do not believe is true to your heart, after you learn how to fight – and win, because you were told to, once you have earned your throne and have had the responsibility of tending to others thrown upon you, then the unexpected. sheer weight of this responsibility should be awe-inspiring.
The true role of the Emperor, the King, is to not hold power, but rather to channel it to where it is needed, to keep the power flowing so it does not become stagnant. When one has faced one’s own suffering with an open heart, one is able to understand other’s suffering, to build bridges between peoples and to celebrate the gifts and talents of all members of our diverse country.
See the vulnerability in this King’s expression. This is how it should be. When we are too sure, we are not growing. We are not able to be responsive to what is before us. The agility of the warrior, later in life becomes alacrity of mind and heart.
This great power is not the same as the Goddess power. It is different, and they are both needed. Yes, it is crucial to continue to feed the resurgence of the feminine, but this is in order to restore balance, in our relationships and within ourselves. None of us can fully heal until there is balance.
Today, we focus on the archetype of the Great Father, Husband and Benevolent King.
So I send my prayers to the winds today, that our men become deep listeners, intense, unmired contemplators. That they do not throw down their weapons or their masculinity but they instead look to the wisdom inside themselves and around them to stand up in a new power, one which is generous and kind, and defends the rights of all people.
Blessed Be, and may the Strength of the Sun Shine in your life today.
Send me your rubber bullets and I will build an altar for us.
It will contain the power that struck the hammer, sending them, cutting through the air.
It will be packed with the force of cold, negligent denial of all wrongs done from slavery until now.
It will be charged with the emotions of our people on the streets, shouting until they can’t speak, marching until their bodies hurt, retreating through tear gas and chanting in unison,
of those tased in the car while police slash their tires, merely for being there.
It will hold the memories of those who held out their hands, those who risked their lives, those who crossed the lines, those who took a knee for peace.
It will be purified by the mere act of picking it off the street, turning it in one’s fingers, and taking it home to channel such into societal transformation.
Take your rubber bullets place them in a small dish. Surround all that passion and song and force and rage and grief and sweet bonding, with petals and nurturing sounds. Then, light a candle to hold witness to us all as you shine in your heart to envelop us with your sweetness.
Take your rubber bullet, pierce it with a hot needle. Pull a strong thread through the hole and make yourself a garland. Make yourself a thing of beauty, wrought from the forges of rebellion. Take it with you always, to fuel your revolution, which is our revolution, to crystallize your truth, which is our truth, to remind you, never, never to stop.
As long as many of us are sitting around at home these days, I want to bring up something that causes spiritual gunkiness. I do still work full time, but the free time I have is mysteriously vacuous. That is why I am able to write this.
There is a law of energy which states that while we are in our human bodies, there is a limited amount of attention we are able to give. It’s similar to the limited amount time we have per day, but balanced with our energy levels. No kidding, right? Pretty boring. Tell me something new.
Well, I won’t tell you anything new, but take a good look at your altar. Is it cluttered? Is there stuff there, that has blank or dead energy? Take it off, then, and see how your altar feels. Look at your medicine bundles, talismans and sacred items, on your shelves, in your drawers. Are you in the plenty with magical items?
Now ask yourself, “If I were going to give proper care to all of these amazing beings, do I have the time to do all that?”
Which items are not even energetically open to you, and which are sleeping, waiting for another chapter in your life? The ones that are not open to you simply do not belong in your house anymore. Heck, I know this. I kept a gorgeous crystal for ten years trying to like it, trying to connect with it, but it wasn’t until I gave it away that it came to life. Years later, it was returned to me and my relationship with this stone person was totally different.
There is a difference between hosting a family of helping spirits and collecting amazing items because they are beautiful. As practitioners, we are tenders and students of the talismans we keep. The stone people need conversation and clearing, or they will remain static. Talismans need recharging, animal totems need offerings and they all need love. Our relationships in our magical support team need to be constant, in and out of ceremony and developed over time. So, just as there can be too many cooks in the kitchen, too many lovers, there can be too many teachers, too many children, too much medicine.
I’m thinking, healers in subsistence living probably only have as many magical tools as they can carry in a satchel, or for community ceremonies, what their assistants can bring along with them. The core of a healer’s power is in a raw hunger for connection with the Spirits of Kindness, an inextricable relationship with the earth. The rest, though sometimes truly critical, is supportive.
Having all this stuff can create a heaviness in the air. They sit there and breath in and breathe out and don’t say very much. The crowd can cause us to have superficial relationships with many spirits, while our deeper relationships are neglected. This can make it difficult to enter clear, strong invocational spaces. We might feel a longing for the times when we felt the spirit running strongly in our bodies. It can be confusing when beginning ritual if we are not sure which items are needed. There can be an oppression of choice, instead of feeling our old friends leap off the altar.
If this hits home for you and you are thinking, “Yes! I need to gift my medicine items!”, keep reading.
There is a proper way to move magic. If you are moving stones, love them and and clear them. There might be energies in them that you don’t want to pass on to your friends – lingering emotions, stuff from old ceremonies. If you are parting with a talisman created for a specific reason, perhaps it serves no more purpose. Perhaps it needs to be dismantled, returning its energies to earth, air, water, fire. Put that time of your life to rest with gratitude and new understanding. Seashells might want to go back to the sea, stones back to the great outdoors. If it is a totem, sit quietly with it in sacred space and whisper to it your feelings. Ask it where it wants to go. Then when you gift it to someone, don’t expect them to keep it. Magical items are just that, magical. It might take a few passes for them to wind up where they need to go.
It’s a lot of work, right? Yeah, that’s what I am thinkin’, when I look around my sacred space at all the preciousness I have collected and feel stuffy. Too much work.
It’s time to lighten the load, keep the energy moving and open up our lives for new inspiration, new vision and a new sense of freedom.
She whispers,
Do you notice more, now?
Does the kitchen table have more substance? Do your books send magic off the shelves, into the living room air? Are your interests dwindling to just a few, laden with suggestion?
Sense the fresh in the quiet, she tells us. It could be ancient or new.
What do you truly need to survive? What clutter has been swept away? Do you want it back? Or do you feel free?
Has the voice from deep within you become more clear?
And when your loved ones speak, can you hear their depths?
Keep listening, friend. I have always been here. You have – we have always been here.
Shh, shh, shh, shhhh.. she says Go deeper. But, bu, bu, co, corona- She says go deeper, now. Breathe.
Earthen cool rain Quite flame What you left on the loom From the past, comes the pain Go deeper.
Who am I?, again. What have I done? Where was I headed before we let the rest of nature out of quarantine?
Making do Discoveries anew Can you hear the calling? Why do I not hear the calling?
Shh, shh, shh, shhhh.. she says Go deeper. But, bu, bu, co, corona- She says go deeper, now. Breathe.
My heart goes out to those who are emotionally suffering under the “shelter in place” order. I know. It can be excruciating to stay present while in the depths of one’s own disorganized self, especially if one has known great tragedy. And who in this great world has not? If not in our families and relationships, by the influences of corporate greed, which has swept us away, again and again from our true heart needs, while gouging Mother Earth, who literally is us in every way imaginable.
Maybe there is some energy rerouting that can happen. Think of the awe-inspiring, creative force each of us contains. We all have designed our own flow to keep our lives stable, investing our energy in chosen places, people, media, activities and mental structures. Now that our normal balance is upset, our energy might be spilling over, stopped up. It might be striking out. It can burrow down and create depression. Or it can just freeze and all those things we have been avoiding are right here, maddeningly in the forefront.
Hold on, my loved ones. This is a rare visit to the sacred forge of transformation. The power is building up and the heat is rising. This is the time to use every tool in your toolbox, every lesson you have learned about taking care of yourself, to rest, to ground, to breathe deeply and to listen. To dance, speak, sing, to ponder. To let yourself freak out. To write, break bonds, reach out or let go. You know what to do.
The quiet voice that has been whispering to you, all this time, is still with you. Listen. Listen. Allow true inspiration to come from the depths of yourself, the earth, just as the Spring tendrils curl and reach upwards in a dance towards the coming sun.
I know you. You can do this.
Tasara Jen Stone
Great Mother Earth, I am listening. Your cry, your warning could not be clearer, your Spring ever sweet in your instruction.You have taken many lives in the wildfires, storms and floods. Now you take more in this pandemic.I call out to the Spirits of the Land. I have not forgotten you. My heart aches for your resurgence. I call out to the Fey, to revel bright, to strengthen Mother’s voice for all to hear, to feel in the winds, to taste in her precious foods, to be intoxicated by, when her blossoms give and give yet again.
May we learn our lessons gracefully this time. May the need for drama and extremism fall away. May the stillness be long enough for us to hear our heart of hearts. May we listen. May we turn the tides gracefully and with ease and wisdom. May we tend to all the sick of the world, human and other, with grace. May those that pass on, pass gracefully, and may they find their way to the other side by the grace of the Spirits of Kindness.May we remember our citizenship in this world. May we level our eyes to every living being. May we wield with love and bring ourselves back into balance, before it is too late, before she balances for us, and we must start again, as we did millions of years ago. May this be the time that we listen. May this be the time that we understand.
Tasara Jen Stone
(Imbolc, 2020)
Blessed Imbolc, my companions.
The Earth, she turns for us. For the North, ’tis Spring – for our relatives in the South, Fall.
We notice the buds on the trees, the longer stands of sun, the song of returning birds, the budding of flowers…and the unprecedented outpouring of generosity. The deep mother hands the reins to the gentle father and we are on. Here comes the sun.
’Tis the Season of Goodness. Now is the reign of the Sun, who pulls us gently towards his heat, who is soon to intoxicate us with offerings of new life.
May our expressions be joined with these forces that reach ever upward at this time. May we be slow, to listen, be wooed into the magic and be lulled by the song of our own hearts.
There is much to fear, yet the season of life continues.
What passion rises in you? How may you share it with the rest of us? Now is the time to express.
Blessings on our journey through these times.
Please, Spirits of Kindness, look over us.
Stand by those under ventilators, isolated from their worried families. Make visitation with our distraught families, soothing, circulating through the empty spaces, putting the old things to rest.
Rest deeply with our medical providers and give our leaders strength as they navigate the governmental powers on our behalf.
Remind us to listen for the Spring in each other’s hearts, to breathe deeply, to wait for the silence in our conversations, to bridge the long held distance we have had while jostling so close together.
May we learn to integrate with our hearts this time, as is in our nature, as is in the nature of nature, to grow. To continue on in newness each time.
The seeds are in the air, looking for fertile ground. Open, my friends. Receive, take root and blossom for us. We need you.
Blessed Be.
~ Tasara
One of the greatest curses cast upon the human race in the last few thousand years is the concept of original sin. Some religions insist it is incurable. Others claim that it can be wiped clean with baptism. Regardless of theological interpretations, many of us who are laypeople carry a deep-seated sense of being an awful, rotten, bad person. Shame is the great motivator for many of our actions, often without our realizing it.
This curse struck not only those who believed in original sin, but everyone else too, as it was distributed through the collective psyche. Too often, events, people and situations are qualified as good or bad, which traps them in a fixed state, not allowing them to be multi-dimensional. When we are good, we can look down on the bad, while still afraid of being bad. When we are bad, we can never be good. Either way, we cannot grow.
I cast down this curse. You are not bad. There is no mark on your soul….
Tasara Jen Stone
More in The Ancient Bones of Ceremony, found in paperback and eBook at: Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Audiobook in production.
May you break free from the patterns that bind you.
