"Lughnasadh is a time of personal reflection and harvest, of our actions and deeds, events and experiences, our gains and losses. A time when we begin the cycle of reflection of that which is our life. A period for personal fertility magic to ensure the bountiful harvest of life's gifts and experiences, that which we have reaped though trial, tribulation, enjoyment, joy, love and loss. As my Elder once said to me, "We can not know what we have not experienced." Such is the truth of life รถ we become not by chance but by experience. Each experience opens a window into ourselves, into who we were, who we are, and whom we are choosing to become."
This past weekend my women's circle held its monthly Full Moon circle. It was perfect that the women who led this time innocently (I think) chose the topic of "Transition." At this time of the year, in regards to the Wheel, we are transitioning from a time of growth to a time of harvest. Personally, I feel that I am totally in sync with this cycle.
I was just sitting here this morning, and actually blogged about it in my unschooling blog, realizing what a strong feeling I have of change. I FEEL like I'm cycling, moving with the universe, into at time of harvest. When I look back at my blog posts here, over the past several months, I can see the acquisition of "seeds," the "planting," the "tending," the growth. Slowly, slowly (and painfully, much like giving birth) my soul has been transitioning and evolving to bring me to this point of harvest.
In the harvest I feel the benefits of the labor, the pain, the tending, the nurturing, the growth. I see the product of my labor and can now use that harvest and continue to prune and tend as these fruits continue to mature and ripen.
How I love the synchronicity that happens when you allow it. How I love this connection and the absolute knowing that all is well. My practice of being grateful in the midst of pain and perceived turmoil, in anticipation of goodness and harvest, serves me well. Sometimes we just need to grow in the darkness of the soil, in solitude, so that we can burst forth and discover who we are.
