It has been weeks since I came away from my third Florida Pagan Gathering, cleansed and nurtured inside (the outside desperately needing a shower and a long sleep). When I finally snapped my paper bracelet off, I felt a force far greater than the physical pull. The circle was open.
Yet the magic continues, in a quieter way than it did before. I find myself listening for it more. And there is so much to hear.
It doesn't come in words, most of the time. I wish it did, because words belong to me.
Instead, the magic makes me do the work of paying attention, without emotion, without fanfare. It points me to people in need of healing, in need of affection, of the quietness that is not quiet at all. It reminds me how much I already know, when I didn't think I knew at all. It has a lot to tell me these days.
It makes me want to try planting those purple pole beans a third time. As a friend pointed out, the spring larvae would have grown up by now. Maybe now the leaves and tendrils can flourish.
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