ancestors, to those whose drums beat in your blood, whose prayers are stamped on your bones. Open the circle when it feels finished, trust the spell as complete, place your hands on the ground, return the cosmic eggs to your altar, and spend as much time out of doors as you did engaged in the spellwork.
And so it is.
Season of the Elders’ Altar: Waning Moon
Grandmother Speaks: This Is Hardly a Day to Be Timid
The water runs cool around your ankles. You’ve stripped yourself of your garment, and you kneel in this fast-running stream, splashing your face clean and pouring handfuls of the pure stuff over your arms. The pink and red has dried in hard patches on your skin, and it’s not coming off easily, even in this hard-moving bath.
“Just dive in,” the Garden Hag says from behind you. “There’s no turning back now, after all. You’re changed. You’re fearless. You’ve been tattooed by the blood of your own becoming, and this is hardly a day to be timid.”
Waning Moon Practice: The Feeling Body
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