A powerful healing ritual
A really appropriate card for today, even though the day is still young. I'm #dancingintheflames of a purifying fire that will allow my #phoenix self to rise once more and stronger than before. Because what & who doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I have achieved a certain mastery of the inner fire to the point that it can't destroy me. Fire is associated with drive, will and passion but the alchemist knows how to transmute that fire into something positive and creative rather than letting fire consume him/herself. It's Kennaz in Jera. Don't fear the fire, embrace it instead… The message with this card was : 'What is it that we really want? What is it that matters most? From the center of the chaos we created, we re-emerge with the certainly of our true passion. With that singular focus, we find new power. ' Let the ashes of the obsolete, the no longer needed become fertile ground for the cyclamens to truly bloom and thrive. #inneralchemy #embracethefire #risingphoenix #cyclicalrune
When we lose our traditions and are trying to recover them, there’s only one place to find them: in the land. In the land which birthed them in the first place. In the physical features of the landscape, in the nonhuman others which inhabit it, and in the myths, archetypes and stories which inhabit it. Good traditions need to be grounded, you see.
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(Image by Catherine Hyde.)
In my last post, I wrote about building a new folk culture based on our native traditions. This seems especially urgent to me now, surrounded as we all are at this time of year by the consumption-driven madness that calls itself Christmas. Even here in the wilds of Connemara, it isn’t possible to escape it. Turn on the radio or the TV, and we’re deluged by ads urging us to buy, buy, buy. Burn the planet, so that for one lunatic day of the year we can wear red hats and snowflake-embroidered sweaters and drink and eat more than is moral, frankly, and imagine everything is perfect and there’s nothing wrong with us – we’re all quite sane, honestly, and we’re sure the planet will be just fine. But we don’t need to ask for whom the jingle bells toll: they’re tolling for us…
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“The intensity of the dark and the silence the snow that long ago December was not frightening, but intimate, a landscape for sleep, for the incubation of dreams, a place to heal from the frenzy of achievement and obligation, a darkness ripe with dormant life. “