I was called out to the UK for some magick. Planned for many years and across a pandemic and time zones, and other challenges.
But magick is not easily put into containers that will impact one person, direction, or goal.
Magick moves because we move. Magick moves because it goes where it is needed, necessary, and knowing.
I traveled from the Bay Area to Dublin, to London, to Glastonbury, and back again over ten days. I stepped into places I’d never been, places that know my name, and places I promised to return to.
The lessons that came back with me are still emerging. And they are personal and powerful. They did not weigh down my bags, but they feel heavy.
(Of course. They come with concern. They come with recognizing some things can’t stay how they were. And they were always going to change.)
Often, I write something when I’m in the airport on the way back, and this time was no different. I’ve added to the original text here (in case you saw an earlier version), but I share it to help others see themselves in what arrives before departures.
We are often more alike than we know.
And if I see it, I want to say it too.
going home again
I am dancing in the airport waiting area to a perfectly shuffled playlist. Full of magick and messages and a little sadness. Joy in one hand, grief in the other.
Because I do, because I do.
Transitions can be hard. The liminal can feel too wide open, too possible. Like an overstretched muscle that knows how to move, but there are many more directions than before.
My struggle with emotional permanence is real and raucous in this between. What lived in that moment can live in this moment too, I know, but, growing up, the space between was filled with doubt, and sometimes 'sure' things were erased the next day. The next minute.
So
I hesitate, I hesitate.
And maybe it's the jet lag or wanting to stay awake
so the moment doesn't ever end.
But I can’t stay awake forever, like some perpetual day/night will keep things close and kind. I can’t stay awake forever because this body has limits. And even the sky rests. Even the moon changes. Even the sun hides.
I have to stop moving to see what is trying to catch up, what is trying to get on board with my life.
What has been chasing me across errands and relationships and spells and all of the ways I keep myself busy enough to avoid any feeling that’s shaped like a lesson.
breathe in, breathe out
I breathe and tell myself it's okay, it's okay.
All I want to do is step back into what I know to be possible and real and true...and the way is forward. For words and wonder will arrive out of earshot when I linger in what seems safer.
Magick made, magick making.
Spell within, spell becoming and unfolding and unfurling.
The gates require letting go
The waters are always colder than I expect
and I wake up a bit more
and I want to sleep a bit longer
And the bloom arrives when you have tended for long enough - whatever that means or how that is measured.
And sometimes blooms arrive despite the worst conditions.
Transitions are tricky, but I sit here and watch the board for my gate to appear. And I'll walk toward it because that's the way home.
unrecognizable
And even if my home is unrecognizable (except for my cats and the clutter I didn’t clean before I left), I settle into the space. I fall into my bed. I dream.
A stranger who has a face that seems to be familiar.
I take the day after to find the time zone again. To find ground. To nourish my body with whatever it wants. To rest deeply between the ways I need to organize and clean to feel grounded again.
To arrive at the speed of flight, my heart needs to catch up because it wants to stay in the warm chair I sat in across from so many I love. My heart still lingers in the nighttime hours when I whispered things I never thought I’d say - or maybe what I have always needed to say.
My heart needs to catch up because this heart, this now needs that magick too.