Aetheira

Take my hand sister.

Take my it. Don’t be afraid of the wisdom I’ve gained over the span of my life.

Take it, and tell me what you want to learn. We can do our spells and enchant our jars, we can hex the men who’ve made you cry.

But take it, and I will be here beside you.

I am bored of politics, the 9-5, the pain. I want my sister to grab my hand and turn my anger into understanding. My sadness into experiences.

I want to turn my pain into power.

But you know it doesn’t. It doesn’t heal our sisters who’ve been torn limb from limb or the ones that have been so hungry, all hope has left their body.

Sister, I wish I could tell you it will get better, but it won’t. Not unless we do our part. Nature will do its best, but I am trading the trees for chants, spells and crafts.

Because if we can’t help our sisters, who can?

Beltane, Flower Full Moon and funnily enough, my birthday fall mere days from each other.

I choose to feel special. I choose to celebrate the fire we burn for our birthdays, as well as the radiation bouncing off this Moon.

In the centre of my craft lies the kitchen where it all happens. Potions get bottled, herbs get crushed and plans get plotted.

It’s on fire.

It’s on fire as far as my eyes can see.

Its colours are fel and it behaves unpredictable.

But I’d not easily let it consume me. It’s not often you fight fire with fire.

But today, let us gather.

Today, let’s light the candles on our altars.

Today, let’s burn our spells above the pyre we’ve built.

I genuinely don’t know better than any of you.

But I know my intuition is my magick. And I know magick comes in many forms, in many shapes and gifts.

After all the shedding and cutting I find myself in my rawest form. My being is complimented by the heat of the fire and the light of the Moon

And I know where I can find my sisters when I need them, for they need me as well.

And when you do see her, when she’s finally shaken the cloak of clouds of her shoulders and allows you to bathe in her light..

Find your sisters, find your brothers. Soak up her power for it is endless

Here I stand. My path is mine alone, but I know my sisters are beside me. For the experiences are mine, the journey is sweeter with them.

Do you feel the warm breeze in the air? Did you spot the first greens of the season?

Light your candles, fold your crosses and read the messages the universe has to share with you.

Sure, it’s nice to practice in solitary once in a blue moon.

But there is something special about chanting with my sisters. The very vibrations of our chord brings her to our midst.

In the end, it’s about these women I call my sisters. I may not even know any of them, but we are bound.

Magick lies in intention, intuition and introspection, and we all had to learn the hard way.

The frost is cracking and melting on my skin, the air leaving my lips are once again invisible.

As if we’ve discovered fire ourselves, we warm ourselves. Imbolc is nearing and winter has finally passed

“And you gathered all my sisters together and we entranced in the dance.”

“I didn’t know music like this was possible, I didn’t know love and celebration like this was possible and I want to ask my sisters, where have you been?”

In the longest night I found solace in her. Her light reflecting the deepest parts of my soul. Reflecting my fears and hopes.

So I will honour her, her light, her truth and the magick she gives me.