The Wheel Turns
My queer witches. How’s your breath? What do you notice in your body when you exhale? For me, as I breathe out, I feel so much tension that simultaneously longs to let go and clings for dear life. This is the sensation that accompanies being part of the collectively overwhelmed. I, like so many others, had a hellish summer and my muscles are still bracing, anticipating more stress.
It’s not often that I consider myself a person of faith. Despite my fascination and love for the shadowy edges (or perhaps because of it), I rely heavily on sensory experiences. What I can see, hear, touch, smell, taste. What can be verified as real. My spiritual practices tend to be sensibly in alignment with earth sciences and everyday objects. Great magic can be cast with a compact mirror, a penny, and the moon (for example). Yet every time I experience significant overwhelm, I stumble foolishly back into faith- faith that something/someone/some-being or energy exists within us and around us and is rooting for our abundance. Faith that if I keep breathing, keep casting spells, keep an open heart, it will all be alright. Faith that we can all have enough to prosper. Faith that despite viruses and wars and monster monsoons, there is a sentient magic that wants us to thrive. For what is magic but faith in action? The action that turns the Wheel?
As autumn follows an overwhelming summer, where scarcity and grief were very real, I return to my breath and to my faith in magic. May the changing leaves and the fading light bring us closer to a queering of prosperity. Closer to a respite for the collective. Closer to relief.
Blessed be our hearts. Mwah!
