Returning to Wonder

I have a knack of turning everything I love into a job. This is a blessing and also a curse of sorts. While it can look, from the outside, to be a very socially acceptable way of having ‘hobbies’ that produce something, it can also mean that my brain takes over with To Do lists and goals.

Again, not a bad thing, but this way of wanting to do and deliver separates me from the feeling that brought me to the first step.


Too often, I will get bogged down in the details, in the measurements of what I’m doing. And I’ll start to use that as the way to prove to myself that I’m using my time wisely.

From there, it becomes a chore and a duty and a responsibility to someone versus a service or an offering.

There are times when I can come back easily. And other times, I need to push myself and restrain myself from the almighty feeling of having to accomplish in order to be a valuable being.

Back to the Ocean

Last weekend, I went to the ocean without an agenda. I went to the waters with friends and magick-makers where we sat in the sand and laughed. We sat in the sand and whispered about what made our hearts sing.

We stood at the ocean and let the icy water shock us back into the moment.

It was hot under the tent made of pink prints and green carpet. And things slowed down. For a moment, it was not a rush to keep up or get ahead.



Today, I went to my altars. I left roses for Aphrodite. I bowed to Freya and anointed myself with amber oil. I lit frankincense for Hecate and put hematite by her feet. I whispered to everyone my gratitude for their presence, their guidance, and their wisdom.

I gave water to my resurrection plants, already bundled up and dry. Within an hour, they were green and lush again, and I gave thanks for the reminder of renewal and thirst.



When things get to be too much, all I long to do is to hide and to get still. But while that is sometimes the way, I chose another way last night. I went to a concert in San Francisco. I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay next to my space heater. I wanted to stay still in my bed.

But I went anyway. And in that ballroom, I felt the weight of the world lift from my shoulders. Literally. I felt a deep clench stiffen in my upper shoulders and then release all the way down to my toes.

I felt the drums in my breastbone. I felt the songs sing my body awake. I tapped into the space where words don’t really matter since you can understand without knowing.


To you, wonder, I will return. Again and again. As the moon grows, I return.

About the Author

I'm a Witch, a priestess, international teacher, often-vegan, invocateur, ritualist, drummer, writer, moon devotee, Sagittarius, and Reclaiming initiate. I am committed to facilitating community growth and connection through ritual creation, storytelling, moon magick, drumming, and embracing beauty in all of its forms. And I am delightfully devoted to Aphrodite, Hecate, Iris, and the Norns. You’ll often find me writing poetry, singing to the moon, crafting songs, and looking for a snack. Here, I'll be writing about the moon, ritual, rewriting personal and collective stories, and poetry. And letting inspiration take the lead.

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