Nature Is My Temple

In which the Witch digests her words

Some weeks I don’t feel much like writing. It’s a cyclic thing, really – going from experience to reflection to introspection. The past two weeks I’ve been feeling fairly non-communicative, being in the introspective arch in my pattern. So I read a few novels and watched some crappy movies. For years I felt like I was wasting time and often chided myself, thinking this time could be spent learning or experiencing or progressing. I know now that that’s total bullshit. Downtime is essential. What does a snake do after eating a large meal? It rests while digesting. During the winter nature looks inward and prepares for the spring. After absorbing a lot of new information and experiences whilst expending a lot of energy, is it so unnatural to shut down a bit while ones mind and body fully digests?

But the wheel always turns…

I emerged from my mid-spring hibernation late last week feeling revived and balanced. I usually spend weeks like this in the woods or by the sea, painting, writing, exploring, etc… Regardless of the activity, I feel an intense craving for natural surroundings during these times, cravings so intense they’ve woken me in the middle of the night, panic-stricken and disoriented. The only cure is to shed my socks and shoes and bury my toes in the soil or sand. I leave my coat or sweater in the car and expose as much skin as legally allowed so I can feel the wind move acrossaroundoverthrough my body and stir within me something deep and primal. I soak up the sun and let the rain mat my hair.

This is my ritual, my prayer, my temple. I leave offerings to the spirits of the land and little presents for the birds and animals. I pick up trash while talking to the trees. I believe the Gods and Goddesses are everywhere, all the time, and so if my workings are done outdoors in nature, so shall they be my ritual.

She who charts the seasons

I also use this time to chart the seasons. Observing which plants are in flower, which flowers are going to seed, and which seeds are being scattered is so deeply meditative. I sketch and paint in my nature journal in an attempt to intimately understand all forms of life. I’ll leave you with a few of my favourite observations of this past weekend…

The salmon berry bushes are ripening, many with a mixture of hard green berries and fully ripe orange and red berries. I picked a few for a snack but left most for the gray squirrels who were collecting them.

The salmon berry bushes are ripening, many with a mixture of hard green berries and fully ripe orange and red berries. I picked a few for a snack but left most for the gray squirrels who were collecting them. (Photo taken with my iPhone with no editing.)

The thimble berry bushes are fully in bloom, their petals resembling the delicate wild rose bushes also in the area. Thimble berries are my absolute favourite of the local berries, but they usually don't ripen until July.

The thimble berry bushes are fully in bloom, their petals resembling the delicate wild rose bushes also in the area. Thimble berries are my absolute favourite of the local berries, but they usually don’t ripen until July. (Taken with my iPhone.)

The Laburnum, or yellow chain tree, are in full bloom. You can hear the drone of the bees 10 feet away. (Taken with my iPhone.)

The Laburnum, or yellow chain tree, are in full bloom. You can hear the drone of the bees 10 feet away. (Taken with my iPhone…too windy for a very clear shot.)

My favourite log on one of my favourite local beaches. The shore is lines with rowan trees, beech trees, and maple, which make for a truly unique atmosphere. There were Canadian geese with their goslings swimming out in the bay, but I didn't have my good camera with me to get a photo.

My favourite log on one of my favourite local beaches. The shore is lined with rowan trees, beech trees, and maple, which makes for a truly unique atmosphere. There were Canadian geese with their goslings swimming out in the bay, but I didn’t have my good camera with me to get a photo. (Taken with my iPhone.)

Saturday had the most brilliant rain storm, with wind and a bit of thunder. I happened to find myself at my favourite duckpond next to the beach, where two Swans were taking their cygnets out for a swim.

Saturday had the most brilliant rain storm, with wind and a bit of thunder. I happened to find myself at my favourite duckpond next to the beach, where two Swans were taking their cygnets out for a swim.

The Parks Board had roped off a section of the beach to protect this molting elephant seal. She looked absolutely miserable in the rain and wind, but I was so pleased at how respectful people with dogs were being of her condition.

The Parks Board had roped off a section of the beach to protect this molting elephant seal. She looked absolutely miserable in the rain and wind, but I was so pleased at how respectful people with dogs were being of her condition.

There were also eagles, a great blue heron, red winged black birds, crows, a raven, gulls, pigeons, and all sorts of small birds hanging around the duckpond. The island in the middle where the ducks nest is obscured by bushes, but I think I heard the faint peeps of baby mallards and mergansers coming from the brush. Next week I will definitely return to see how they fare.

Sometimes, all one needs is a weekend in nature.

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Offerings In The Park

There’s a park a couple blocks from my apartment. It’s a pretty standard park, as far as city parks go. It’s got a track for running, some picnic tables, and a small water park which only gets used in August. The park as a few trees around the boarder, some Japanese plum trees and a small grove of cedar, which only really seems to get used as a bathroom stop by young children who’s parents are too lazy to take them to the restrooms. Yet despite the suburbanites overhaul of this once wild and free corner of the neighbourhood, there is still something magickal about the park: it backs onto a forest.

The gateway to the Wild North on the eve of my offering.

The gateway to the Wild North on the eve of my offering.

And not just a forest, the forest, for the trees that trickle down the north side of the park, protecting a small gully with a creek running through it, is one of the southern-most appendages of the Wild North. You can follow this creek (aptly named Mosquito Creek) and it’s tree guardians all the way up into the mountains. So while it’s not a private grove where I can meditate in solitude, it’s still connected to the land that I love. And on a cool, sunny evening in the throws of the new growth of spring, I felt it was a good time to give thanks to the land that sustains me.

I wasn't sure what species this plant was, but the mauve and light green caught my eye and I had to stop and appreciate it.

I wasn’t sure what this plant was, but the mauve and light green caught my eye and I had to stop and appreciate it.

Behind the fence in the “no go” area, I found a young rowan tree growing alongside an ancient pine. The ground was covered in a layer of dead oak leaves (although I couldn’t find any nearby oak trees) of which the dandelions were breaking through and glowing in the setting sun. There was a young huckleberry bush, fiddlehead ferns, and a wild rose bush. It was beautiful.

Young rowan, vibrant with new growth.

Young rowan, vibrant with new growth.

I knelt by the base of the rowan and pine and placed my hands on their trunks. The smooth skin of the rowan contrasted so starkly with the rough, knotted pine bark, which was sticky with rising sap. I was losing light and the early spring coolness of evening was setting in, so I quietly thanked the spirits of the forest and the guardians of my Wild North. I left behind a stalk of wheat from my own garden and a tiger’s eye gem.

A Tiger's Eye gemstone and a stalk of wheat from my own garden; an offering to the spirits of the forest threshold.

A Tiger’s Eye gemstone and a stalk of wheat from my own garden; an offering to the spirits of the forest threshold.

I grow ceremonial wheat in my herb garden. Every year, I plant a small handful of seeds saved for the previous years crop. This way I always have an abundance of offerings for the spirits that are infused with my energy, love, and commitment.

I grow ceremonial wheat in my herb garden. Every year, I plant a small handful of seeds saved from the previous years crop. This way I always have an abundance of offerings for the spirits that are infused with my energy, love, and commitment.

As I was walking back towards the car, the sun broke through the low branches of the pine ridge, illuminating a cherry tree which was just starting to bloom. It was nothing short of breathtaking; a sign, I hope, that my offering was accepted and a blessing bestowed.

The Pine Guardians, protectors of the Wild North.

The Pine Guardians, protectors of the Wild North.

Cherry blossoms in evening sunlight - the perfect blessing.

Cherry blossoms in evening sunlight – the perfect blessing.

May you, dear reader, find a moment of equal spiritual nourishment in the near future.
~Eira