Hello loves,
I thought I would be offering you a ritual for Imbolc, but that is not the case. Instead I find myself praying for redemption for what now feels like a sin.
To sin is to “miss the mark”.
I live my life with the intention of putting magic first. It is what makes me a witch and an initiate of Her ways. It is not always comfortable. It comes with rewards and sacrifices. And it is not always clear what the appropriate sacrifice is.
Lying on my olive green leather couch last night listening to the rain, I feel I made the “wrong” one, sacrifice, I mean. I feel I missed the mark, and there is a deep grief attached to my faith today.
February 1st had me up early with the little beings who are currently residing in my home, my two granddaughters ages 4 and 8 months. The circumstances that brought them to me are unfortunate and traumatic—and we are making magic with the mess.
Their parents have restricted, supervised visitation only. My life has been taken over; I’m molding my own schedule to the needs of people who I cannot stand for the love of my granddaughters. This has been a huge sacrifice. I am putting my own caregiver job on “hold” until we next go to court 5 weeks away from now. I am navigating having the “state” in my life, and more people coming and going from my home than I ever have in the 5 years I have lived here.
I hate this. And my love for the girls is transmuting years—ages—of patterns wrapped in addiction, trauma, and abandonment. I’m actually preparing to teach a course on ancestral healing because it so alive and relevant for me right now; details will be coming soon. But for now, how about this graphic?! My creativity is alive and well as I navigate these changes, and I am struggling for time, self-care, and maintaining the “right” structures.
My sin (as I “feel” it) is neglecting myself and my own commitment to magic.
How did I perpetrate this atrocity?
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