The Feminine Side of Christmas

Solstice Eve. 

There was a time when the people knew that the stag so often depicted in Christmas decor was actually a Mother Deer. It was she who carried the burden of providing the conditions needed for survival, namely the life-sustaining light of the sun. 

In our modern scientific minds we know the sun exists as a result of physical processes. To us the idea that rituals are needed to ensure the sun will continue to shine for yet another day is nonsensical and primitive. We often forget how far we stray from knowing how vulnerable we truly are, how dependent on the daily cycles of the sun, how fragile and helpless compared to the unpredictable forces of Nature. It's as if we live in permanent bubbles - house, to car, to restaurant, to mall - believing that so it is and will continue to be.

When we open to receive the possibility that this time is holy and full of spiritual truth and wisdom, despite the commercialism and triviality that now surrounds us, we help to change the collective consciousness. I'm not referring to any specific religious belief or tradition but to the indwelling wonder and inspiration in the cycles of life. For many of us it's easy to submit to despair and gloom, or, conversely, to false gaiety and forced connections, and forget the the true magic and majesty inherent in this season.

I've been imagining the Feminine heavy with child and in labor. She's not looking for shelter but for the warm embrace of our hearts. She looks for receptive people to welcome the birth of the Sacred Masculine unencumbered by the patriarchal conceptions of power-over, self-righteousness, and narcissistic zeal. Think of the Sun in it's generosity and radiance, in it's ability to engender life in the entire planet. There's nothing else like it that we know of in our cosmos! 

This is the Feminine Side of Christmas - on Solstice Eve the Mother Deer, symbolizing the mystery of birth - the endurance, humility and grace - upholding the Sun between her antlers (which she does not shed as does the stag) - the desire and will to live and thrive with hope for all.

Dear Soul-Lights,

As this season comes to an end, I'm thankful for the time of darkness and look forward to the beginning of a new cycle as December Solstice approaches. From Samhain on the Feminine has gone on an inward quest, a Lunar quest, where She gestated the Inner Light and spiraled inward. By the early morning hours of Tuesday in our Northern Hemisphere, She will symbolically rebirth the Light once again, as She does every year, and the cycle will begin anew. 

I've been working with my own Lunar consciousness - Moon cycles, dreams, shadow, body symbology, Tarot, my Soul's creative expression through writing. And I've worked with two Goddesses - Sulis and Freya - very different energies which I feel created a vital balance.

From Sulis, the Goddess of Healing Springs, I learned to honor my feelings in a deeper way by sensing more how they flow through my body. My body informs my feelings, and my feelings inform my body. When I listen, I am whole. 

From Freya, the Norse Goddess of Love and War, I've learned to acknowledge how these two opposing forces play out in my inner life. They both take skill...and wisdom to know what's required and when...for now. 

I will continue to honor my Lunar consciousness, of course, but I look forward to how it will shift and integrate with the soft winter radiance of Sol. I intend to quest for the Feminine Solar energy as well as the Masculine in ways that are supportive and sustainable for all of Life. I believe the culture of patriarchal ways of being in the world are coming to an end...at the very least within my own psyche. All relationships and experiences that I am involved with will reflect this and I will endeavor to express this truth in hopes of nurturing a transformative process within and without. 

I give thanks to all of you who read my 'chicken scratch'. I say that with affection, as I often feel like a broody hen when I sit down to write. I make a little nest for myself and Emily, my cat usually joins me, which makes it difficult to find a place for the computer as they both want my lap. 

This blog is not about passing on more info, or promoting something, or sharing what someone else has written. It's about participating the act of creation. I see us all creating wholeness and moving together in synch with the most loving intentions. 

Con mucho Amor!

draws from the well

Lembas

Lembas the 

Life-bread for

The Wayfarer

Who follows the

Path of the Night

Path of the Night.

Down

To the deepening

Feeling

The waters

Descend

Descend.

                                              West

Goes the One

To meet

The Green Dragon

A flash

A flash.

Shimmer

The Life not

Blinded by Shadow 

Grey ship

In the dark

In the dark.

Grey ship

In the dark.

Tree love

The house across the street is no exception. It's one of my favorites because of the old Grandmother Oak tree that grows in the front yard. To the passerby, the tree is a nuisance because of the crunchy acorns and stiff oak leaves that fall to ground. But to us it is sacred.

We designed the front walk that leads to the front door so that it meanders around the multi-trunks, 6 in all, of the oak. I chose the colors for the house and the shape of the door. The door is deep candy apple red with an 'eyebrow' arch and a glass panel that calls for a lace curtain. The exterior walls are buttery yellow with white trim. Real river rocks lovingly arranged form the base of the bay window and the front pillars.

During the two years we took to remodel the house, I spent my writing time sitting on the brick steps at the base of the tree, the red door behind me like a magical guardian. Finding this special spot and making time to use it reminded of being a child again. My imagination would settle on nothing less than that which entrances and beguiles. All I wrote in that space makes no common sense whatsoever.

But that didn't matter to me. I would write as the tree talked by dropping acorns in patterns, a sort of morse code. Since she is a Grandmother Tree, it means she is over 150 years old and her roots connect to all the other oaks in the area. She had a lot say about the people she had seen over the years and the periods of drought and flood. She remembered when our street was a stream, which was one of the reasons she chose this spot to grow. She was grateful that no one had been so thoughtless as to cut her down even though she realized the fallen acorns and leaves where quite a handful to manage. She also gave me a lot of advice on how to love and accept everyone. Love and accept everyone...

With such a tree you can imagine how the house took on an air of magic as the time passed. We worked on it...well, my husband worked on it, I mostly watched, gave advice, brought water and lunch, and wrote. The house started to develop a personality and a relationship with us. Between the house and the tree we were gently admonished to find loving people to live there. It's not about money, to us the most important quality the buyers needed was 'tree-love'.

It took us over 6 months after the house was finished to decide to put it on the market. I secretly wished we could keep it. I imagined a healing center there. I could see people coming and going blessed by the magic of Grandmother Oak. I knew that wasn't going to happen, however, and that our realtor was going to have to push to get us to give it up. I mean it's not very practical to have a second home right across the street from the house you live in. So, eventually, reluctantly, we signed the contract...

Today I took a basket of fruit, cheese and crackers to my new neighbor across the street. I made sure her car was in the driveway and could give her the basket personally so she could store the cheese in the fridge right away. I walked up the path to her red front door and didn't even have to knock. I was surprised to see the door opened by a little old white haired man. Next to him stood an equally white haired little old lady. They were impeccably dressed. So tidy and, I dare say, crisp. If they had been wearing red and white I would have believed I was greeted by Mr. & Mrs. Santa Claus. As it is I had to blink several times as a stuttered my "Uh, hello, is Petra here?"

They don't speak English, but of course they recognized their daughter's name and ushered me in with waves of their hands and nods of their heads. It turns out they are a little Bavarian couple from the Old Country. They're celebrating their 60th anniversary and her birthday is on the Solstice. I was charmed. Couldn't-take-my-eyes-off-of-them charmed...

I absentmindedly passed my basket to Petra. She gave me a round tin full of something sweet and foreign and delicious that her parents brought with them from her home town. I can't pronounce the name yet, let alone spell it. The outside of the tin is decorated with vignettes from their town. The tall, graceful spirals of an ancient cathedral, aging but imposing brick buildings with towering cupolas, old riverfront storehouses and covered bridges. My thoughts flew to WWII. Where did your sympathies lie? How did you survive? Did your all of your town escape destruction? The questions came automatically but I didn't verbalize them. It wasn't the time or place for it. Instead, I felt there was an exchange of deep sorrow and empathy. Someday maybe a conversation could take place...

For now, I was enchanted and Grandmother Oak was delighted.

And it was lovely. So very lovely...

Moonday baby

Seed Moon in Aquarius  - a baby Einstein

Moonday's new baby Moon is a wonderful time to tune in to inspiration, states of higher consciousness, and what needs to be revolutionized. All this from the perspective of 'the high witness' - detached, innovative, avant-garde. 

This Moon gives us a chance to energize the 6th and 7th chakras, centers of psychic and spiritual power. It's wonderful to time to think of ways of how one can make a difference in the world but watch for getting caught up in appearances and shallow displays of elegance lacking substance.

What this Moon brings to my mind is a brilliant genius child. One who is ahead of the norm in so many ways but needs to be nurtured and guided in the ways of sensitivity towards others.

What in me is genius?  It's a question I don't often consider. The clue lies in where I am least sensitive towards the needs of others. The thoughts within that take me further from a heart centered or body centered experience and into the wild cosmic possibilities yet to be imagined on a collective level. I will have to meditate on this...

Or what is so far out of the ordinary that to speak of it makes me feel silly or awkward? Today I spoke of the possibility of an ancient civilization, like Atlantis for instance, with my down-to-earth scientist daughter.

"Impossible!" she says. "Pseudo-science!"

Ok, so there's absolutely no scientific basis for it. That's alright. It's me getting out of my everyday world of the external hello-how's-the-weather and using my imagination. It's also a way to spark new ways of thinking and learning.  Our conversation went from considering the veracity of the Piri Reis map (the pseudo-science part), to the Nazca lines (interesting for it's rarefied topography). It's growth on an intellectual level, forget practicality.

What's more fun though is that my scientist daughter is considering applying to NASA's call for astronauts!!! What??? This is the first I've heard of this. And she's not joking. It's not totally out of the realm of possibility for her, but for me to think of her on her way to Mars?...it's mind-blowing!

But I shouldn't be surprised...this is how this Moonday rocks.

Freya's Necklace

Everyday I go on a Medicine Walk. I call it that because I usually walk alone and use the time to practice walking meditation, or listen to talks regarding things of a spiritual nature. During my walks something seemingly inconsequential, but extraordinary nevertheless, usually happens and today was no exception.

I walked listening to a talk regarding the Goddess Freya. I was surprised to learn of this story regarding the Norse Goddess of Love and War about a gold and amber necklace she considered her most beautiful possession. This necklace was a piece made by four dwarves that she paid for by granting each a day and night solely in her company. To acquire it Freya had to leave Valhalla and travel to Earth, her childhood home, across the Rainbow Bridge that spans the two realms. The acquisition speaks of a return to her origins and the reclamation of the source of Freya's power and magic. For this reason the necklace was later stolen by one of the other god's of the Norse pantheon and Freya had to go to war to retrieve it.

As I listened to the speaker recount how she had re-enacted this story in Sacred Drama and Ceremony, I suddenly recalled a necklace that I just recently put away because it had become a poignant reminder of loss. My necklace is not amber, but it is made of chestnut and amber colored stones. The speaker described how she had participants take apart a necklace that no longer served to remind them of love, and then reassemble the necklace in a way that symbolized their coming through an experience transformed. 

As I continued to walk deep in thought, I tried to imagine taking apart my necklace and redesigning it but, in my imagination, it refused to come apart. It was precisely at that moment that the ordinary became the extraordinary.

In my mind's eye, Freya appeared and surprised me by saying, "You earned the necklace, dear one, and paid the price. Now look to the sky for the symbol of transformation you seek."

In the twilight, the last light of the setting sun still brightened the mountains. On this cool and breezy autumn day a Hawk drifted across the sky tilting it's body one way then another. The movement showed first the amber colored underbelly, then, as it tilted the other way, it's sepia wings shone like burnished gold. The Hawk's tail blazed red like a flame fanned by a sudden gust of wind. 

I stopped walking awed by the beauty of this messenger and gazed through moist eyes as the Hawk slipped further away towards the mountains. In that instant I felt transformed. The thought of the necklace no longer evoked a sense of loss but of appreciation for the hours of dedication I had given in service through embodying the teachings of the Sacred Feminine. The Hawk, one of my Medicine Animals, reminds me that I am not alone as I continue forth along the Spiral Path reclaiming the freedom to fully own the power of the inner wisdom that is my birthright. 

It is said that Freya is a Goddess who loves to come unbidden. I thank Her for gracing me me today with the magic of love and healing.

Seeking? or Questing?

Dark Moon in Sagittarius

Most people refer to this phase of the Moon as the New Moon. Others, myself included, refer to it as the Dark Moon, the New Moon starting when a sliver of the silvery crescent starts to show. The two phases are different in emphasis as well. The Dark Moon is silent and completely introspective, whereas the New Moon is the symbol for new growth and beginnings. In the dark of the Moon we wait and listen, in the light of the New Moon we awaken with wondrous hope to the unfolding of what is evolving in our lives.

The Archer is aiming the arrow at the star Antares, the heart of the Scorpion. Sagittarius is symbolic of our Quest for Truth and Inspired Vision from which to take action. It's interesting that The Archer is Questing for the heart of Scorpio and it could be interpreted as intent on pinning it down, as it were. If there's a sense of seeking for absolute truth behind this Quest, it can lead us towards a Shadow path of fundamentalism should the Quest be deemed complete. This is the 'rose colored glasses' kind of truth, or the 'my truth is whiter than your truth' brand. But the Truth the Archer seeks is more accurately regarding who we are as "Spiritual Beings Having a Human Experience".

Questing takes diligence, commitment, and a passion for perceiving adventure in all aspects of life. Questing is different from seeking. Seeking is trying to find something specific, or petitioning for an answer, or working towards a solution. And until this desire is satisfied, the seeker is melancholy or unhappy. Questing is about exploring and journeying to see what one will find. The Quester finds joy in being curious and asking open ended questions that just may never have a definitive answer. The Quester longs to get to the bottom of the heart's truth, but knows that in reality there is no end, Truth is infinite.

This Dark Moon asks that we quest first in silence for what's in the individual heart as the subjective truth, but continue to quest for that which is Universal in nature, for that Truth which binds us all. While we are alive the Quest is never complete. And we have permission to miss the mark, and start over again and again and again.

The Mirror is Dark

The eve of the dark moon. 
The mirror is dark. 
A time to look at the shadow of me...if I feel strong enough...and I do.

So I look, and what do I see...
Less love than I expected.
And if that isn't shadowy enough, I see...
Less well-wishing than I've offered before.
And, in case that's not enough, I see...
A part of me that could really care less or give a fuck.

It's one thing to feel strong enough to see in the dark,
It's another to bring out the shadow.
But I do cause I feel strong enough...yeah...I do.

I reach for the mirror, 
The shadow slick on my hands,
"No, no, not me!" she cries...in multiple voices.
One sounds like a big bad witch,
Another like a lonely little girl,
And the last like a well-seasoned attorney.

"Look at me!" 
I speak to the mirror.
Come out and be strong with me...I lie...I do.

And she comes, 
Wearing the masks of love misdirected,
Believing she is strong enough to live forever.
But she's only a region of opacity,
In the landscape of my heart.
In the dark she fades into me completely.

And the mirror is dark
On the eve of the dark moon
When it's dark enough to see... and I do...yeah...I do.



Notes on shadow work:

I have found the eve of the dark moon is the best time to work with my shadow because with the help of the moon the work is easier and softer. One often hears the phrase 'bring the shadow into the light' - I have found that only makes the shadow more resistant and much more difficult to integrate. 

Also,the shadow is more like a wild or feral animal than the demon some people claim it is. My shadow feels slick like a cat that doesn't want to be held. I have to lure her out and she comes out with less provocation in the dark of the moon because it feels safest. 

Shadow work is immensely important to our health and well being. Owning the shadow frees the body from having to carry the 'region of opacity' which can manifest in illness and disease. 

It is always more skillful to address shadow issues with poetry or art, it's more responsive that way...and much less likely to cause serious backlash from a pissed off shadow. Shadow work is intuitive work and increases our capacity to move into the realm of the irrational. It is healing for our souls to be able to 'hold the both/and' of life.

How it is left

You leave.

You leave with a smile
And a promise.
You leave wearing a frown
And a heart of sadness.
You leave the past behind,
a harvest of words
lingering
on pages
piled
here
and there.
You leave to be with a complete stranger - the future.

You leave thinking you've learned a lot,
Mostly how to jump right in,
And then right out.
You leave thinking
But there's so much more to learn,
And how you will
never
have enough
time
to learn it all.
You leave knowing you've finished something - that has no end.

So, here is how it is left.

You leave riding opposite ends of a train,
Not split in two
but stretched out along the tracks.
You leave riding,
Not in 1st class style,
But hidden in the undercarriage
Where you could go deaf -
from the
churning
and chugga-chugging
of the metal -
Or die
A stowaway who
Couldn't hang on - for dear life.

Or, you can find your way
Through compartments
Seeing if you fit
Here
Or there.
You can do that.
Or you can look up and
Remember
It's been done before.
The climb up
each
metal
rung
And get hit by the wind
That makes your eyes water
And think - why not?

Why not??
Because
You were crazy
To have done
Such a thing
And now it's too late
And the train won't
Stop
just because
you think
it should.
The train is gone.
You're gone.

And that's how it is left.

One-of-a-kind Moonday

Today is a Moonday you and I will ever again experience.

The Moon Priestess deals Lady Love a Wild Card, decreeing it Purity, in the deep dark Underworld of Scorpio. Yikes!!!

This mystery play features the Moon as Priestess of the Feminine Mysteries, Venus as Lady Love, and Comet Catalina (meaning pure) as the Wild Card. Today they are all in Scorpio, archetype of the deep Feminine Mysteries of transformation through integration of the Shadow. To top it off, while the recently discovered Comet Catalina flashes through our sky on her way to the Milky Way representing a call to Purity, the Moon Priestess occults Lady Love, symbolizing Venus's complete overshadowing in service to her commitment to radical self-love and self-regard. The Moon Priestess will not accept anything less than complete willingness to letting go of self hatred that may be lurking in the heart of our Lady.

Ok, now the Moon Priestess and Lady Love have been trusting friends for millennia, but Lady Love is being asked to retain purity of heart while delving into Shadow material. If you've ever done Shadow work you know you can't help but feel foul. You dig deep enough into your psyche and if your are honest you will find thoughts, feelings, and actions you wish you could keep hidden. It's pretty normal to feel doubtful about your purity, so in a sense, the Moon Priestess offers Lady Love shelter from the Emperor's New Clothes syndrome. No one can pretend to not see her shadow because in actuality no one can see it. We see instead a waning crescent Moon as Venus hides behind her protective shield. 

If we add to this unfolding drama in the heavens the Sabian Symbol for the 4th degree of Scorpio (the degree we read for this occultation) we see a youth holding out candle in a devotional ritual. I like to think this role is played by the asteroid Juno, who also happens to be part of this conjunction. Although Juno is in the more mature and wise degrees of Libra, the youth represents her Purity before she became the wife of Jupiter. She accompanies Lady Love holding out a light for her during her dark descent.

If Lady Love, (the Feminine in all of us), does her work she will come out of this initiation like Lady Godiva, vulnerable in the eyes of the uninitiated, but Pure of Heart because she loves herself fully, and is therefore capable of facing anything. If we can participate in these Mysteries on a conscious soulful level, we come ever closer to the co-creators we were meant to be. 

Carpe Noctem, dear Friends! (Seize the Night)

The Holly Wreath and The Wee Folk

At about this time, as we close in on the last of autumn days, Old Woman Solstice has finished her Holly Wreath. The Wreath is bursting with lush red berries contrasted by the pointy dark green leaves. She hangs it on the door surrounding the glass light and by doing so let’s the Wee Forest Folk they are invited into her home for a bit of warmth and cheer. 

The Holly Wreath sings Yuletide songs and calls each one of them by name. 

Zanu…Twilah…Finnen…Malkei…Pookie…Rhys…Niamh…Oisin…Ghillie…Arroka…Elly...and there's more...

She gathers them into her circlet of ruby and emerald like the cardinal her chicks and the Wee Folk slip through the glass without a knock or open door. 

Most of the forest folk come dressed in their very best finery, sporting Christmas red, white and green, scented with fir and spruce.  But for all their pomp and style, they often do not dress warm enough to last through the frigid weather of winter. Where it not for the welcoming hearth of Old Solstice’s stone cottage, most of the Good Folk would find themselves stiff and lifeless within a few hours like ornaments hung on a tree.

They wait for the Old Woman to hang her Holly Wreath with great anticipation for they know that once it adorns the round oak door of her cottage, Old Solstice will provide hot mulled cider and mead, toadstools drenched drenched in fairie sauce,  and loads of cookies ~ 

Spritzy Stars and Coconut Fingers…

Rosenmunnars and Pepparkakors…

Angel Crips and Almond Kisses…

Chocolate Bombs and Oatmeal Lacies… 

All delicious and plentiful, enough to last them till Spring. But their favorite is a plain brown Drommar, the Dream Cookie. 

As the Holly Wreath mysteriously continues to provide merriment, the Wee Folk dance and shimmy into the night. Lacking any sense of shame or propriety, they have their fill of all and any provisions Old Solstice serves till their bellies puff and bloat like tiny balloons. Yet having several compartments in their wee stomachs, always have a little room left for the best cookie of all. Drommars made of cardamon and rich brown butter melt in their mouths and are saved for last as it makes them heavy with sleep. And then they are off to the land of fae dreams to await the Spring and the cottage is filled with Dream Magic.

Old Woman Solstice finds the Wee Folk extremely easy to please when it comes to food and libations. But putting them up for the Winter is another story, and as they are wont to fall asleep where ever they are, Old Solstice must look around every corner and dark recess of the cottage and scoop them up one by one. She fills all nooks and crannies, cups and thimbles, sachets and pill boxes with the Forest Folk. Yet for all her care, come the morn she’s liable to find some curled up in her slippers. 

But once the Wee Forest Folk are all tucked away for the season, the Holly Wreath breathes a sigh of contentment and slips into wintry silence.

Old Woman Solstice's Most Sacred 'Herb'

I am a guest among the woods

In light so bright I hatch my blooms.

With golden sickle I am cut down

To church of old I brought a frown.

Lunacious spheres of poison heal

From heart of wood I make my meal.

Not earth, nor sky can claim to miss

The fruit above the lover’s kiss.*

*A riddle from Old Woman  Solstice's Book of Shadows

The Wolf Albion

Albion stands almost as tall as Old Woman Solstice, which is to says about half as high as the snow banks flanking the windward side of her stone cottage.  He rules over the deep winter forest with gentle and somber majesty. His haunting howl can be heard for miles away, but when he chooses to speak, his voice is a soft whisper that tickles your ear.

The white wolves living in Rynver Woods spend the darkest times of winter nipping affectionately at each others ears, and swapping yarns and tales around a campfire made of incandescent crystals. But when Albion makes his appearance, all merry making stops and a reverent hush settles over them. The crystal campfire dims and the wolves white pelts glimmer with starlight. And then Albion softly speaks...

"Great and gentle Wolves of Rynver Woods...

Old Woman Solstice wends and weaves the long dark threads of winter nights. Shadows of pines stretch taller than the trees themselves across the snow and we must make ready for the mystery of renewal."

Around the circle, the wolves nod and blink their luminous obsidian eyes.

"Each one of you knows the vision the humans need to rekindle their love for the Earth and one another. This is your sacred work - to plant the seed in each of their hearts during the night of long dark hours."

Although Albion's voice is barely audible, his warm breath is a tempered hush of wind that carries the words like sparkling snowflakes into their attentive ears. He lets his gaze rest briefly on each wolf so that the immense importance of their mission penetrates deep into the marrow.

"You must ride swiftly, silently across the landscape of their dreams and scatter the seeds in only the most fertile of places."

The silence deepened. The wolves knew that though their work would bring great joy should they succeed, it was fraught with risk. If a wolf lingered in the land of dreams, the human would awaken, remember the white wolf of the dream, and then thinking 'it was only a dream', the fertile hope of the human would curdle like sour milk, and the fragile seeds would die.

"I believe you have trained well to be swift and focused, and this is the work all of you can fulfill," Albion paused. His white form appeared larger now as the night sky settled more and more into the obsidian black of his eyes. And now through each eye, one small pinpoint of bright light shone with a pearly luster. This was no reflection, it was a trail of starlight that came from within his spirit and the vision he shared with the divine light of love.

"But, some of you will encounter a most wondrous thing," Albion continued. "The human you visit will dream within the dream of a white wolf." The wolves tilted their heads to better catch Albion's meaning.

"My dear sisters and brothers, let me explain as simply as I can. When the human dreams of a wolf dreaming, then he or she has entered the space between the worlds as you have. Neither one of you will know who is dreaming. You will feel lost and bewildered. Should this be your destiny, Wolves, you must swallow the dreamer and bring them back. For you then must become the fertile ground and, this human, the seed that you must grow. Remember, it is you who are Albion. I am but a reflection of you." ~~~

~~~ Old Woman Solstice hears every word Albion speaks though she sits in her cottage spinning and weaving the winter night on her loom. With each thread she weaves - midnight blues of sapphire, cobalt and indigo, and then, as the night continued to deepen, the blacks of raven wings, ebony, onyx and sable - she places a star as a marker for each wolf to find their way back from the land of dreams to their home in Rynver Woods.

The Owl

Old Woman Solstice keeps company with Felicity, a Snowy White Owl. The owl comes and goes as she pleases for she is wild and answers to no one. She is not a messenger nor does she guide. And, although she does present herself at times bespectacled and studious, she is not particularly wise. In fact, as far as owl chronology goes, Old Solstice's Owl is rather young and has much to learn. Felicity is to Old Woman Solstice what dogs are to humans, her best friend.

Old Solstice found her one frosty day when she was out foraging for berries and pine cones. A small patch of snow was swirling and flurrying about, which upon close inspection, was actually a baby Snowy White Owl that had fallen from a nest. The little owl waved her tiny wings valiantly but to no avail. The wings were a bit heavy with melted snow and the baby muscles were not yet trained to lift and fly from danger. Though she must have been in pain, the owl did not cry out. Only the frantic waving of her wings signaled her panic and distress.

"There, there." Old Woman Solstice whispered soothingly. "Let me take a look at you, little one".

But the little owl, too young to have ever seen an Old Woman, beat her little wings faster till she felt her heart would pop. Old Solstice's eyes followed up the trunk of the tall Pine scrutinizing each branch searching for a nest. And, yes, there was one, but the red stains and mess of feathers were tell-tale signs that someone had shot the owl's mama.

Old Solstice took pity on the sweet little thing and endured many pecks of the sharp little beak before she managed to wrap the baby owl in her wooly shawl. Once her eyes were covered, the little owl huddled as if in a trance in the warmth of Old Solstice's bosom. The Old Woman cooed and clucked the whole way back to her stone cottage, her heavy black boots leaving deep imprints in the snow.

Once safe inside the stone cottage, Old Solstice unwrapped her little bundle. The baby owl's eyes look like amber buttons set in a fine feathery gown. The walk in the Old Woman's arms had calmed the baby owl's heart so that she now looked all around the cottage moving nothing but her neck. It was the last thing her mother had said,

 "Remember, Felicity, first look all around you. Take time to assess a situation."

 Her mother was patiently explaining the way of Owls when, in an instant the strange and foul shock - her mama exploding in into a puff of feathers, a blast so powerful it had knocked her little body off the nest. The baby owl shuddered and closed her eyes.

Old Woman Solstice let the little creature rest on her shawl in a warm spot upon a shelf above her bed. She continued to coo and cluck as she made herself ready for sleep. She tended the fire and banked the ashes well so they'd have enough warmth for the night.

"Good night, pure one." She murmured and closing her eyes, feel right to sleep.

At the break of dawn, Old Solstice felt a tickle on her nose. In the early morning light she screwed open one eye and saw a downy bundle on her breast rise and fall, rise and fall, with every breath.

This was how Old Woman Solstice and the Snowy White Owl came quite literally to be bosom buddies.

The Besom of Heather

The Besom of Heather is not long handled like a broom that sweeps a floor. Old Woman Solstice’s besom is only as long as her arm as befits her work at the hearth. It hangs from a peg at the mantle and never touches the ground. Old Solstice made it herself out of heather sprigs for new beginnings and the joy of self-discovery; hazel bonds for wisdom and inspiration; and an oak branch from Dragon Oak for protection, truth, and prosperity. She carved a Twisting Evergreen at the end of the handle not only to enhance it’s natural beauty, but also to extend her magical work across all time to eternity. 

With sweeps of her besom Old Woman Solstice scatters snowstorms and chaste icy winds throughout the land. She spreads winter wildness and the hibernating sleep of long dark nights and short days of feeble sunlight. Her ways encourage traditions of kinship and gift giving among the people. 

Old Solstice keeps the winter world safe by sweeping spells up her chimney were she keeps her fire bright and hallowed. Unmarred by ill will or doom, such are her spells and incantations:

This hearth I sweep with Besom of Heather;

Snowstorm and wind must spread and scatter.

With ritual fire this earth be hallowed,

Wild kith and kin bond all that follow.

When set ye I by Solstice hearth

Let dance begin ‘neath sky of stars;

And sleep then comes by Moon set stream

To learn the ways of darkened dream.

(there are no images for Old Woman Solstice's Besom of Heather...it's unique...use your imagination...)