St. John’s River

There’s just something about Florida rivers. The lazy meandering of hidden currents, the tranquil relief the waters offer at the end of an extraordinarily hot day.

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The spirits of the rivers of Florida aren’t ordinarily sought out, but they’re no less potent than Ocean, Great Lake, or Sea; the soft drifting melody of the river’s voice is enough to cleanse and renew just as a wild tempest sea roaring ashore in crashing waves.

This I came to love about Florida’s rivers: that calm surface hiding worlds of knowledge just beneath, a surface smooth as glass, reflecting the earth and sky above it.

Response to the Daily Post Daily Prompt–Glass

 

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the Sea Goddess

She felt the rise in her belly, the swell of excitement that could only be found within crashing waves.

She let herself be pulled, a calling with more depth and more intensity than mere curiosity.

He took her hand in his and led her to where the sea meets the earth, asking her to dive down deep under those dark waves. He looked back to her face, fearing to see trepidation in her eyes.

But he gazed into the grey of her eyes, grey that matched the rising surf, and he saw wonder.

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She let him lead her down to the shore, down to let the rolling foam greet their toes.

She smiled to him, a shy crook of the mouth that set his heart to racing.

He knew then, in that moment, that he would make her his queen. He would let her choose, though, and let her roam freely between sea and stone.

He moved her onward into the rising tide, never letting go of her slender hand. And every time he turned to look after her, she pushed him ever onward with the shine in her eyes and the curve of her lips.

Together they entered the sea, down down down into the murky depths of his watery domain. Down to the realm of selkies and sirens, down to the gates of his hall in the heart of the ocean.

She breathed the deep blue of salt water into her lungs, and was transformed.

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Seals and rays greeted her in welcome, dolphins swam playfully around in large pods, their smiling faces belying their pleasure at her coming.

She rejoiced in her newfound freedom, her newly acquired underwater flight.

She had come home.

 

 

 

~Líadan Rán

Beauty and Self Care for Mid-Summer Celebrations

Midsummer is near!

WitchPetals

The summer season is a time of the year when things are in full swing.  The Earth is in full bloom and we celebrate the richness of abundance and fertility surrounding us.  Food and sunlight are in plenty and many of us spend the most time outdoors in clothing that reveals more of us than any other time of the year.  I enjoy the energy of this time. I always feel are particular rush of happiness and excitement as we edge closer to the Summer Solstice or Litha.  Tradition tells us the Goddess is fully pregnant and her round belly blesses us with the promise of more abundance to come.  We celebrate the sun and the warmth it provides, allowing for an ease of the life and green growth that the Winters cannot understand.  It is with these thoughts that I find it easiest to be indulgent with myself and…

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Of Wild Wanderings & Summer Heat

Where have the Wildlings wandered to?

When the Earth is heated and moist, and dew clings to fresh green leaves, the Wilds beckon us home,

To wander without being lost in the wild wood and thickets, near the river bank, under a full moon at Ocean’s tides, upon the windy cliffs and hills drawing ever nearer up the Mountain.

We are not at home; Summer is here, and the weather is warm and sultry, demanding dancing and crafting and riding.

Earthly scents mingle together, sweet hyacinth and water lilies, boggy cypress and wet soil, filling the hot and humid air with the promise of light and love and life.

Midsummer is near and the Wildlings are not at home…

They wander, these wild ones, seeking the Enlightenment, Transcendence, the Spirit of plant and animal, and Ancestors’ ancient wisdom.

Trees and herbs rejoice at their coming and the Sky parts in promise, giving life and lust back to us mortals, and demanding the cycle be born anew.

I dreamed this dream of wooded Wilds

I dreamed this dream of wooded wilds, dripping moisture in the grey air. The Earth’s many scents release when the rain drops onto pine needles and oak leaves. The pat-pat sound of the rain on the palmetto fronds is familiar in my mind.

I rise from my bed, surrounded by quiet and the familiar hum of the ceiling fan. It is early morning, the hour of in between twilight just before dawn, and I hear a voice. A man’s voice outside. From deep inside the dark cool trees, his voice travels out to me. I know that voice.

I wander out of the house, at odd morning hours. My bare feet padding down the lawn leading to the edge of the woods. I hear a crow, the rain, and his voice calling to me.

So I enter that wild realm of insects, birds, spirits. The wild god who waits for me.

He calls to me again, his voice warm and dark as fertile soil. My pulse thickens inside my skin. Shivers tremble up and down my spine, but still I long to find him.

I wander with soft steps on sacred ground. The smells inundate me, decay and life and rain. I weave through the thick trunks of ancient trees, winding thickets of brush and bole, over roots jutting out on my path.

And then I find him. He waits for me by a stream. The sounds of pipe and drum hit me then, though he holds no instrument in his hands.

His face is unmistakable, though I only ever see it in dreams. He whispers my name, and I approach his perch above the swirling water.

“Look,” he tells me. “Your strength is in this shadow, buried beneath the birch tree.” He smiles a cryptic smile, as a teacher might to his student who is working out the solution to something in her own mind. There are no birch trees here.

He reaches his hands out to me, and I take them in mine. His hands are warm and rough, mine cold and unsure.

He pulls me to his body, his warmth, his earthly knowledge. He smells of pine and soil and the decay of leaves.

His mouth covers my own, and I suck him in, all the scents and senses, the knowledge and heat.

Then I wake. I’ve had this dream before. It’s as if this vision, this dream message and messenger are begging for clarification. And I can’t seem to (or I’m not meant to) decipher it yet. But it’s always the same, always ends before the best part.

I like these dreams though, when I have them. They’re comforting and mysterious, as if my fate can be divined by some dream Being’s mood swings in the ephemeral world.

 

 

[Featured photo found on Pinterest]