The time is coming. The time for magick in the woods. A place I haven’t been before. A place I may never see again.
The years are funny like that.
I can only prepare for what I think might happen.
All my tools of my heart.
Of my hand.
Of my intuition.
Packed up, arranged, and folded so they fit.
There will be a moment when I feel I’m not ready. When I feel I won’t know enough or know what to do.
So I prepare.
And not all of it is mystical.
Some of it is eating more green things and not eating the sugary things.
Some of it is writing out lists of what to wear and what to bring.
Some of it is going over notes and sitting at an altar.
Some of it is getting quiet and still so that I can really hear.
So I can really listen.
We will be diving into the story of Inanna. Her descent.
There have been so many descents this year. So many unknown places where the hook has been a place of landing and being. And so many days of just waiting for…whatever comes next.
Someone. Anyone to speak on another’s behalf.
In a way, the preparations have already happened.
They are done — and they will be done again.