A blessing on Midsummer night (21st June 2010)

And did the Great Mother pass my house this evening? Did her skirts not brush my cheek? And did I not catch her scent? Surely it was Her who touched my soul as I watered the garden in the dusk of the day, bringing me to a standstill, gazing into the copper heart of the buckthorn, wrapt, amazed. Awed by beauty, blessing, wholeness; being part of the whole yet having a unique place in it. For a few precious minutes of eternity I lived in paradise and the cares and fetters of my life did not bind or bother me; like paper streamers they fluttered weakly in the wind. I gazed upon my garden lit in the subdued hues of midsummer night, so new, so young, yet so vibrant with the birth of a dream, and I saw her hand scattering her seeds of life and love.  I gazed once more into the buckthorn and saw her smiling face. And I smiled.

And there I would have stayed for ever and become a tree myself, but the door opened and a voice of love called me back into my world (‘Aren’t you coming to bed?’). Could he not see her? I turned slowly and came in.

The great Mother passed my home tonight and her skirts brushed my face, and she turned and smiled upon me and I carry her blessing in my soul.



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