Such swiftness there is to summer’s arrival. We find ourselves there, beneath that low-hanging and arrogant sun, just when our tamer stories have all but run out, just when we begin to wonder why we chose to be born into these soft and feeling bodies. Our hearts are overfull here, on this intense moon cycle that runs through the summer solstice, thumping and pregnant and pulsing, rhythmically drumming the same tune of adamant rebellion our more recent dead knew so well but played only in secret. This first moon of summer finds us baptizing ourselves in the nectar of heathen revelry, sharing tales around the campfire of forbidden love and battle iron. Surely, these stories are not suited to those with the more delicate sensibilities, for their language alone will suck the innocence right out of even the purest and most youthful soul.
Opening Practice: Your Summer Initiation
Materials: Three small bowls, at least nine strips of old light-colored cloth, fabric marker
The epic task of this first moon of summer is to make peace with the practice of fierce and intentional gratitude. Mind you, this is not a call to be decidedly content and refuse to strive, or to rush past rage, or to accept the unacceptable. There is much wrong with our wounded world, after all — and, by extension, there is much that we cannot, that we should not, force ourselves to be grateful for. This is not an oversugared practice of skirting around the magick and hoping our thank-yous and our well-wishes are sufficient to bring about change; rather, gratitude is a true and often overlooked Witch’s skill.
When we practice gratitude beneath the summer moons, we are inviting what we already love to bloom. We are welcoming greater boons into our world by using the grateful heart as fertile soil, and we are opening ourselves up to receive all that is ours, all that our foremothers prayed for on their many fire-tending evenings left alone with the flames.
As the first new moon of summer dawns, begin this gratitude-bowl practice. Consecrate three small bowls in the elements, using those already on your summer altar if you are able; then choose three life areas with which to work your gratitude magick. These might be the same life areas as the cosmic egg work from spring, but they need not be. You might choose romance, parenting, and art making, or you might choose money, home, and travel; any life area that you feel shifting right now will work, so long as it holds meaning for you.
You might look to the writing from the noonday reflection practice for inspiration, but be sure to choose three life areas you truly care about right now, in this moment. When you feel ready, cast a circle, welcoming the beloved ancestors, then hold the first bowl as you face north. Ask yourself what life area this particular vessel represents, then ask yourself for what you are most grateful with respect to this particular part of your life right now. This might be a recent memory or a more permanent feeling state of gratitude, but call to mind at least three things pertaining to this one life area for which you are most grateful right now, as you are, a Witch facing north and honoring their place here on this earth. For example, if the life area you choose to work with is love and partnership, you might call to mind gratitude for a heartfelt and fleeting moment of intimacy, a sudden realization of what you truly want out of a relationship, and an understanding of your renewed wholeness that allows you to authentically be in a loving partnership with another human being.
When you feel ready, synthesize these three gratitude points into three single words or three short phrases, writing them on the strips of fabric and placing them in the bowl. Return this bowl to the altar and choose another, now facing southeast and repeating the practice: Ask yourself which of the two remaining life areas this vessel will represent, call up three points of gratitude, write them on the fabric, then return the bowl to the altar before doing the same practice a third time, working the last bowl and facing southwest. You will now have three bowls on your altar dedicated to three different life areas, each containing at least three strips of fabric on which separate expressions of gratitude pertaining to that particular life area are written.
Before opening the circle, return to the altar and hold each bowl again, one at a time, calling up all points of gratitude and, importantly, feeling the in-the-heart sensation, that subtle warming that swells within the ribs when you are fully in that state of embodied fruition. Try to remain in that state, if you are able, while you speak these words:
This is my summer initiation, and I am truly a most thankful sprite. On my grave will be written nothing but the poetry of moments, rhyming and rhythmic thank-yous to no one in particular, only those holy crossroads of time and space, those sacred and fleeting points of becoming when I was nothing but a flesh-and-blood shrine to sheer heart-born grace, when I wanted for nothing if only for that small space between the inhale and exhale, when the world was made of emerald-green gratitude, tiny sparking building blocks of thank-yous. My life was built from these moments, after all, and from the ethers I shall watch the world go on without me, warmed by those many ephemeral glimpses of who I truly was, those embodied reminders that I was living well. Surely I made the most of my time housed in this soft, feeling flesh.
Seal this ceremony by chanting “thank you,” practicing feeling the true, under-the-skin sensation in response to the words. Open the circle when ready, and welcome what comes.
And so it is.
Excerpted from the book Seasons of Moon and Flame. Copyright ©2020 by Danielle Dulsky. Printed with permission from New World Library — www.newworldlibrary.com.
