I see fairies

Every now and again I find the Magickal child within me. Every now and again I see her reflection in my children's eyes. Every now and again I slow down long enough to let her play and dance and sing and create.

This past week was my neighbors Birthday. We could have never paid for a better neighbor. She is kind, funny, wise, loving, beautiful, fun and wonderfully awesome with my kids. She has taken them in often to do crafts with her. Which inspired me to have the children make her a gift. Nothing big or expensive or fancy. But from the heart of three children who absolutely adore her.

We searched for colored paper, pipe cleaners, glitter glue, glass rocks, a glass vase from around the house and dug deep into our imaginations. And with every drop of glitter that fell from their tiny hands their Magick created the most loved and beautiful bouquet of flowers any woman would be proud to own. Each had a reason for the colors they chose. "This is my favorite color because with every gift you should give a little of yourself." One would say. The other, "Can I go over and ask her what her favorite color is? She should have her favorite color as a flower too." "Every flower needs a butterfly!"

When all was done and the children proud of their creations I scanned what would appear to any adult a mess of all our scraps across the coffee table and a son dangerously playing with a skewer. But in the Magick of the moment I could only spy wands. Beautiful, Magickal wands made especially to usher in the Summer Solstice. And so it began again. The whirlwind of imagination, creation, laughter, skewers, papers and pipe cleaners. "These are the colors I want to use." "I would like a paper star made out of green." "ickity, bippity boo! You are a cow!" How delightful! How wonderful! To see my children turning each other into frogs and cows and chairs and playmates and friends and laughter.

Magick, laughter, imagination, creation, love. Magick, laughter, imagination, creation, love.

As the Summer Solstice slowly makes it way across the sky, I start to see the Magick grow in my children. There is something to say about the high holidays and the spirit in the air. It is brief at times and within a blink it can pass one by. But when I look back at the end of the day I can see it so clearly. In the flowers, the wands, the glistening skin as they jump into the pool, the glitter in the lotion we use after baths, their smiles, their laughter and the words they speak, they believe as we wind down the evening out in my neighbors yard under the smile of Lady Moon, "Mom, I see fairies!"

Fairy light. Fairy bright.
Hope to see fairies tonight.

SO MOTE IT BE.

Life is but a dream

I woke this morning to my husband shaving in the next room. Divided only by a sheer blue tapestry of a Celtic design. I listened for the giggles, whispers, shouts or whines of our children but silence from the rest of our house was all that meant my searching ears. So back to sleep I fell.

I have always found amazing that powerful few moments of slumber that comes after a nights long sleep but just before total dawn. Perhaps the moment is just a flutter of minutes or the caress of a whole hour it is still a deep, restful and (in this case) insightful sleep.

The dream is fuzzy after a full day of activities but the message is still clear. All I needed to do was ask. Am I lost? Is it too late? Am I too old? These are the questions, among others, that I have been asking myself lately. One may call it a midlife crisis. But as my husband put it, "I expect you to be around a lot longer than the age of 72.". Whatever the reason(s). I am stalled on the road of life and I find myself looking under the hood and realizing that I have replaced a lot of the good old individual parts with highly manufactured, mass produced, carbon copies of what society calls "NORMAL". And I am sickened by it. Where has all the ME gone to? I was strong in my beliefs, my convictions, my lifestyle, my spirituality. And somewhere along the road of marriage, motherhood and housewife I became one of THEM. At age 36 (the last time you will see this in print) is it too late to get it all back?

Which brings me to the reason of starting this BLOG. I used to write all the time. Poems. Stories. Diary passages. There was not a moment in all my life that I did not write about. But I haven't written anything in about a decade now. So I figured that if I was lost and wanted to be found again, that writing was the best place to start. It has been a months long thought process. Decisions are never made quickly in the mind of a Scorpio, although it may seem like it to the outside world. I worried and fretted and thought until finally giving in and letting go. Where is the harm right? Obviously none.

For just the morning after I started this new path I got my answer in a beautiful dream with the help of a few good friends during a picnic in a park. This is where the Orisa's chose to be seen. In my comfort zone. It is here where I was told that I was never alone. All I had to do was open my eyes and my heart once again and my true path would not only be there but be there with open arms and warm hearts to guide my way once again.

This is my journey. This is my life.

There is a kitchen that needs to be cleaned and

laundry to do and a shower to take and children to feed and floors to be swept and scrapbooking to be done and looming to finish and cats to tend to and a book to read and and and and and and and I am sitting here with two beers in and a few more to go, bleeding and not caring about any of it. Do you think my husband will care when he gets home for dinner? I didn't think so either. Why? Because he knows. The sweet and loving man knows that on this moon cycle, during this not so short week out of the long month, I prefer to watch the world go by. Watch as a person would watch a movie, lovers in a park, other peoples children at play, zoo animals safely locked behind steel and mortar. Knowing that I am just an impartial observer that can turn away at any moment and the picture will continue on. Without my foot prints. Without my disturbance. Without my essence.