The Gratitude Project Ends - September 21-22
I am most grateful to have made my way through the Gratitude Project. I'm not good at doing anything repetitive, and the only way I managed to finish is by allowing myself the freedom to post when I had words on my tongue, and just visualize my gratitude when I did not.
Yesterday's gratitudes were many. Warm afghan on my lap in the morning chill, cosy contentment in my fiber studio at the Aerie, another sock nearly finished, snuggles and purrs from my beloved Amber.
Today, I am grateful for the Equinox, a time of balance, and a time of anticipation for the journey inward. It's time to stop gathering and take one last look outward before turning toward the heart, turning to understand and use the things that I have sown, nurtured and harvested.
It doesn't feel like autumn yet. The leaves have not begun to turn. There's a lesson in this. We cannot be bound by the calendar, by the relentless march of time. We must act when we are ready, and not because the calendar says we must. The leaves understand this, turning color as the tree's life force retreats inward, blazing with color and, at the perfect moment, letting go. Surrendering to free fall.
I remember the early autumn a few years ago. Yellow leaves were drifting down on Mabon. My mother and I went out in the garden and started chasing them, laughing as the skittered away from reach. Eventually, we each caught one. Such good memories.
Are you celebrating Mabon or the Equinox today?
Yesterday's gratitudes were many. Warm afghan on my lap in the morning chill, cosy contentment in my fiber studio at the Aerie, another sock nearly finished, snuggles and purrs from my beloved Amber.
Today, I am grateful for the Equinox, a time of balance, and a time of anticipation for the journey inward. It's time to stop gathering and take one last look outward before turning toward the heart, turning to understand and use the things that I have sown, nurtured and harvested.
It doesn't feel like autumn yet. The leaves have not begun to turn. There's a lesson in this. We cannot be bound by the calendar, by the relentless march of time. We must act when we are ready, and not because the calendar says we must. The leaves understand this, turning color as the tree's life force retreats inward, blazing with color and, at the perfect moment, letting go. Surrendering to free fall.
I remember the early autumn a few years ago. Yellow leaves were drifting down on Mabon. My mother and I went out in the garden and started chasing them, laughing as the skittered away from reach. Eventually, we each caught one. Such good memories.
Are you celebrating Mabon or the Equinox today?