Since moving to the Midwest three years ago, Samhain signals to me that it’s time to pack up Spring and prepare for Winter with a capital “cold”. I dump and store all my perennial pots, cut and dry herbs, trim back … Continue reading
I feel in love with nature at an early age. I grew up in a tiny town in Maryland on three acres to explore. The fireflies lit up warm summer nights and in the winter ice would dress the naked trees. Flowers made fluffy parachutes to spread their seeds and the ground ate all our vegetable scraps. It was all magic.
As I grew Mother Earth no longer whispered her secrets, she encouraged me to study her. I visited the bones of long past monsters, learned how the beaks of birds could tell me what they eat, and saw through the eyes of bees. I believed in the Natural History Museum and as I grew aware of my world I found the ethics of scientist. Jurassic Park became my idea of Christian hell. I wanted to protect these forces at work that I/we have just begun to understand.
“You see, I have never felt the need to invent a world beyond this world, for this world has always seemed large and beautiful enough for me. I have wondered why it is not large and beautiful enough for others– why they must dream up new and marvelous spheres, or long to live elsewhere, beyond this dominion… but that is not my business. We are all different, I suppose. All I ever wanted was to know this world. I can say now, as I reach my end, that I know quite a bit more of it than I knew when I arrived. Moreover, my little bit of knowledge has been added to all the other accumulated knowledge of history– added to the great library, as it were. That is no small feat, sir. Anyone who can say such a thing has lived a fortunate life.”
― Elizabeth Gilbert, The Signature of All Things
(number 15 on the pagan blog project week 27)