November is the month of last leaves, of sunsets that seep into late afternoon, of quickening cold borne by blooming shadows. The spirits brought forth by October have left their indelible mark on our world. Look up at nearly bare trees and witness the remaining paper-like leaves fluttering in the cooling wind of deep fall. This is a season of magic, when we remember most clearly that we are alive. Our breath—the embers of our soul—becomes visible. This is a time to hold close the rituals that give us purpose, and the spells that lend us clarity. Performing a ritual is to mark a space in time, to honor what came before us and pay tribute to what lies ahead. To utter a spell is to have faith that we are capable of playing a hand in the forces that shepherd our world. We are as much a part of the unfolding of life as the orbit of the moon around the earth, as the migrations of monarch butterflies westward, as the last dandelion seeds carried by the wind. When we ask the goddess of fortune to bring us luck, the air spoken from our lungs is released into the world, left to dissipate as sacred mist to be swallowed by the animals, plants, and spirits that bind us. We urge you to treasure that breath, and to cherish the power that each of us has to guide the path of the present into the future.
INSIGHT - OPTIMISM - HAPPINESS
The full moon of November—the final full moon before the solstice moon—is named for the beaver, a humble creature capable of transforming landscapes. Their dams create wetlands that prevent drought, providing fertile environments for biodiversity. This year’s Beaver Moon is also a Blood Moon, when a total lunar eclipse shrouds the moon in the shadow of the earth. What light seeps from the edges of our planet stains the moon red. Step outside this Sunday evening to witness our presence touch the ghostly spectre of the moon.
POEMHigh on the vast blue canvas,
clouds curl, float
I bring what I am.