Opening the Circle

Blessed Brigid, may the light of your face and the flames of your hair turn back the Cailleach from her march upon the land. Carry back the light of spring, and with it the warmth of the hearth and the sun, so that the snows may melt and the land be renewed.

May the flame that we have built grow bright, and may we tend it with care so that in its warm glow our families may be safe and protected from harm. May Wisdom be shared by its side, and inspiration ever keep it alight.

May our forge be strong to prepare the tools we need for the labor ahead and our arms never tire from the work that must be done.

May our hearts be warmed by the love and care that holds us all.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the Snow Moon rises full, pulling tides and truths alike to the surface. May we feel the call to justice, to transformation, to healing, and to celebration. In this sacred brightness of the Full Moon, we walk the path of the Via Transformativa: the way of change, the march of justice, track of living love into form. The world aches for healing, and transformation begins not just in systems, but in souls.

This is a moon to act, to bless, to become.

Path Illumination

As we tend the fire, this Imbolc, we hear the cry of Brigid’s companions, who call out when they see injustice done in the land. We are reminded that our responsibility starts at the hearth fire, where we tend to our wounds, where we share our grief and our joys, where we bolster our strength, taking both warmth and sustenance brought on by the flames.

We remember that this is the same fire that burns in the forge, where we craft the tools of our art, which is the transformation of the self and the world. The forge of the self is repentance, or teshuvah, the power to change our mind and to return to the path. The path that we walk is built on love, justice, equity, and wonder. If we forget these, they cannot dance around the hearth fire, and they cannot forge the tools that we need for the work.

The transformation that we bring into the world is through our sowing and reaping. through the care and support that we have for all life. Brigid’s care is not just for the people, but for the animals as well. Her power reminds us to sustain ourselves with the milk of life and to ever gladden our hearts with the beer of joy. As she passes through the land, she knocks on every door and asks to be let in. May we welcome her, and may she find a hospitable place to rest her head.

From her, we learn the arts of healing, poetry, the forge, and the care for each other and the earth. All of these are vital to us in these times. May your craft be strong, and our practice sustaining.

The Sacred Question

What is the fire that you have been asked to tend, and what must you do to keep it strong and alive in the hearth?

Embodied Practice

Let us take a moment to tend to the fires within. Because when the winds howl, and the breath of the wicked fuels them, it is easy for this fire to go out, or to burn small, robbing us of its warmth.

Take a deep breath in and slowly release it. Do this a couple more times until you feel even the barest hint of relaxation in your body. When you are ready, close your eyes and imagine that you are sitting next to a hearth with a fire burning within it. If you cannot see the flames, pretend that you can hear them crackle, or simply know that they are there. Maybe you just feel a slight warmth in your body, in your chest, in the hearth of your soul.

As you breathe in, watch the fire compress and shrink as that pressure builds within you. As you breathe out, watch the fire rise and take up more space in the hearth. Repeat this process. Breathe in and the fire shrinks. Breathe out and the fire rises.

As we do this, we remember the teachings of Jesus, who tells us that it’s not what we take in that defines us, but what goes out from us. Like Mary, we take in the world, and we ponder it all in our heart. Through wisdom and restrained action, we release compassion, mindfulness, and effort into the world. Breathe in as the fire shrinks and breathe out as it grows stronger. Sit with this flame as long as you wish.

When you are ready, return your attention to your body. Feel the breath filling your chest and hear it as it escapes your lungs. when you’re ready, open your eyes

Blessing of Becoming

Blessed are those whose hearts burn with compassion.
Blessed are those whose eyes shine with the light of love.
Blessed are those whose voices carry wisdom.
Blessed are those whose way is justice and truth.

May the hearth ever be warm, welcoming, and healing.
May the springs ever flow with the waters of life.
May the forge ever build hope and resilience.
May the song ever guide our dance.

Amen.

Opening the Circle

We can hear the cries of the land as injustice is done, but if we listen deeper, those cries are not just in anguish but in childbirth; something longs to be born. The land is with child, a new dawn that will come and bring justice, peace, and understanding to it. We can hear the cries. We can feel the urgency of birth. We cannot rush it. We are merely the midwives, here to ensure that everything is ready, that the space is cleared and to aid the child in coming into being. Though our actions may be small, we see the light. We have the courage to see the process through. As the land travails in childbirth, we stand by her side and make sure that she is safe, strong, and that the world is ready to receive what she bears.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the first quarter moon cuts a bold curve through the night, a bright edge of becoming against the sky. May we feel the call to create, to explore, to dance with the holy spark that stirs within us. In the generative tension of the First Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Creativa: the way of inspiration, of sacred imagination, of shaping what has never been before. Our souls reach not for certainty, but for expression: for the joy of making, of playing, of sketching the unseen into form.

This is a moon to imagine, to risk, to begin.

Path Illumination

The Via Creativia is always a collaborative process. It is impossible to be creative, to make something new, without cooperating with the giants on whose shoulders we stand, with the great lineage of creative work that came before us, and all of the imaginative minds that brought the modern world into the state it exists in today.

We can all see the turmoil around us as the dark, greedy, fearful, and power-hungry try to instill fear, terror, and control in the land. Our land does not shake before them. She cries out, as what she has incubated for all this time is coming. something new is about to be born.

We can see it in the multitude who are acting for their fellow people, the people whose hearts are being moved, the people whose eyes have been opened, and the scales have fallen away. The passive world that resigned itself to the whims of petty leaders and despots is slipping through their fingers as this newness is being born.

Our job in times like these is to midwife it into being, to take actions that will clear the way and receive the child when it is born. We have to imagine a new way of living, a new way of being, a new way to exist. This way is beyond the control of others. It is a way forged in consent and mutual care. It is a way built of love and mutual aid. It is a way built arm in arm and hand in hand as we provide mutual support, one for another, to build that great and glorious day. No work is too small so long as we keep our eyes open and we tend to the birth, removing anything that could cause harm to the mother and child, and preparing to receive the gift of new life as it breaks into the world.

The Sacred Question

As a midwife to this new creation, what needs do you see that you can attend to? Is there a hunger or thirst, clutter that needs to be removed, comfort that needs to be offered, or strength that needs to be shared?

Embodied Practice

Let us take a moment to sit with the land and help the new creation be born. This practice invites us to breathe with the land as it labors toward new creation.

As we inhale, we open ourselves to the ache, grief, and tension of the land in childbirth, not to take it on as burden, but to accompany it as midwives of becoming.

As we exhale, we release courage, tenderness, and blessing back into the body of creation, trusting that love knows how to move where it is needed. We are not rescuers or martyrs. We are witnesses and participants, breathing with the world as something new struggles toward birth.

Continue to breathe in that ache, grief, and tension, and to breathe out courage, tenderness, and blessing until you feel something change within you. It may be subtle at first. You might notice your shoulders relax or your pulse calm down. Sit with the land and breathe in and out. Feel the wells of courage, tenderness, and blessing arising within you from that great sea of compassion and mindfulness within.

When you are ready, return to your breath, return to your body, open your eyes.

Blessing of Becoming

Blessed midwives of creation, let our hearts be filled with love and our actions with devotion. May we give aid, care, and support so the new creation may rise and the new life be fulfilled among us. May we return to the wells of compassion and mindfulness, and from their healing waters, breathe repair, protection, and hope into the world.

Opening the Circle

Blessed are you, O Yah, the Shekhinah, Spirit of the World.
Make way for her presence.
Make space for her work.
Clear a path so we can go out to greet her.
Clean the floor so we can join in her dance.

The Glory of HaMakom breaks the horizon. She approaches.
Wisdom, compassion, joy, and mindfulness dance with her.
The Power of God and the Name are with her.
Her song sings of wonder, peace, wholeness, and freedom, which are the four ways of life.
She approaches like a cloud, and strength is with her.

May we join this cloud of witness.
May we sing the song of life.
May we dance the round of liberation.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the new moon veils the sky, cloaking the heavens in silence and shadow. May we feel the call to surrender, to sacred unknowing, to the holy hush that dwells beneath words. In the deep darkness of the New Moon, we walk the path of the Via Negativa: the way of release, of letting fall what no longer serves, of listening for the presence hidden in absence. Our souls ache not for answers, but for peace within the questions, for a love that meets us in the void.

This is a moon to release, to empty, to rest.

Path Illumination

The Shekhinah is the Presence of God, felt within and around us. She is the Presence that flows through us and through whom we live a full life. To welcome her into our lives, we have to make space for her to inhabit. We must cleanse the altar of our heart and offer the sacrifice of mindfulness, joy, and service. We make way for her coming and going. We dance with her as she goes. She is the presence that we feel so deeply in moments of contemplation, prayer, and solace.

In the shadows of the new moon, we recognize that we are enshadowed by her presence. She does not leave us. We only choose to ignore her presence. Sometimes this is through an active choice on our part, but more often it is because we have filled our lives, our hearts, and our minds with so much that we no longer see her.

Sometimes we have to clear out what is there, so that there is room. Most of the time, though, we only need the clarity to see through what covers our vision of the presence of God. That clarity requires us to release the hold that we have on our present troubles and open ourselves up so that our focus can see what lies beyond them. It is like when we stub our toes. Suddenly, the whole world is that pain that we feel in that small part of our body. If we focus on it, it is all that we can feel, and our field of vision narrows down to just it. If we open ourselves up and realize that it is only a small part of our experience, then the entire world comes back into focus.

This is how we open ourselves up to the presence of the Shekhinah. And this is how we learn to dance, sing, and live in her presence. We open ourselves up. We do not shut down. We find clarity without shutting ourselves off. We release our gaze from what binds it so that we can see the space around us.

The Sacred Question

What space in our lives has become so cluttered that we can no longer see or feel the presence of the Shekhinah?

Embodied Practice

Cover your eyes with your hands. Make sure to cup your hands and do not press in on your eyes, but close your fingers so that you can no longer see beyond them. Now see the room that you were in.

First, you might think, “I cannot see what is there because I am covering my eyes.” Yes, your hands may be covering your eyes, but they are not obstructing your vision. You know what is in the room with you. Allow yourself to see it. Even if you cannot picture it in your mind, state what is there clearly and plainly. Who and what are in this space with you?

Now take a deep breath and dig deeper. What is in the room that you could not see even if your hands were not covering your eyes? The first answer is easy: the air. Even if your eyes were not covered, the air is clear and you cannot see it. Do not stop there. Go deeper. Name the relationships, the meaning of the objects around you. None of those can be seen by your eyes, but they can be beheld by your vision.

Ask yourself, “What is in this space with me that I have refused to see?” This could be clutter or schmutz that you know needs to be cleaned up, but go deeper. What else is here that you have refused to acknowledge and see? Is anger, fear, or resentment in the room with you? Is loss a cloud that fills the room, keeping you from seeing what is there?

Behind your hands, open your eyes, and then quickly move your hands away and notice how bright the room feels. Your eyes are overwhelmed by the light denied to them once it is restored. We experience that overwhelm anytime the scales fall from our eyes and we see something anew in a way that we had not before.

Take a deep breath. And now, with clearer vision, see what is in the space with you in all of its intricate interconnection and spacious opening. This is the world you live in. This is the world that has space for the Shekhinah.

Blessing of Becoming

Blessed Shekhinah, Spirit of the world, open our eyes so we might see. Hold our hands as the new light blinds us, and help us to walk in the new world open to our vision.

Blessed Wayfarer, as you walk the paths, know that you are not alone. We are never alone. With each step that we take, an untold cloud of witnesses and relationships come with us. We walk the narrow way not because of our virtue or its rightness, but because many turn away from the work of clearing the heart and the eyes so that they can feel and see.

Make way for the presence of God.
Make way for the spirit of truth.
Make way for the heart of the world to ever beat and be strong.

Opening the Circle

Let us stand in awe of the tenacity of the human spirit to persevere in the face of the terror wrought by the state. Through their gun shots and bluster, we rise up. We stand in the truth that no one should be mistreated or terrified. Terror and fear is a tool of the other side. We stand on the ground of God, and God is love. True love casts out fear, it does not create it.

May we encircle ourselves with love. May we encircle ourselves with blessing. May we awake to the strength flowing through us. May we behold the way of Mutual Aid and Care.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the third quarter moon rises, opening the middle way between light and darkness. May we feel the call to awe, to cosmic hospitality, to the art of savor, and to the kin-dom of God here and now. In the sacred light of the Third Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Positiva: the way of wonder, the dance of delight, courage to speak the living Word of God into form. Our souls ache for blessing and community as we gather to taste the sweetness of life and share the joy with each other.

This is a moon to awaken, to bless, to behold.

Path Illumination

In this moment, as we meditate on the Via Positiva, we cannot lose our delight in marching together, standing together to show our solidarity and to make our voices heard. Those arrayed against us are trying to “flood the zone” and drown our enthusiasm and drive for justice. They are trying to wear us down and make our numbers dwindle so they can get everything they want no matter what is right. The best way we can fight back is to hold tight to our awe, wonder, and delight.

Every time I see the crowds coming out to protest, I am in awe of our presence. I find wonder in their courage and strength to speak out for what is right in the face of those who seek only harm and fear. I delight in the spirit of protest that is not afraid to speak the Word of God to the face of tyranny. The Word of God ever speaks for justice, for the marginalized, for the poor, and for the oppressed.

May we ever see the wonder of our numbers and delight in the work of God in our actions.

The Sacred Question

The question facing us today is simple: When we look at the field we tend, the space around us where we live, what can we do to keep delight in the work alive?

Embodied Practice

The spiritual practice we are called to right now is a hard one: We must savor the strength and power of the people to act in solidarity to make the voice of God heard by the people in power. This looks differently for different people. Think about the protest frogs, those who sing and dance at the marches, the ones who provide food and drink to the protesters to keep people strong.

Our practice it to transmute the anger and rage we feel through this awe, wonder, and delight into the joyful march toward the new day we all long to see. This is the the work: Be so filled with this delight that we joyfully proclaim the new day. This joy confuses the powerful and they do not know how to react to it.

Blessing of Becoming

Blessed are those who stand with the marginalized and oppressed.
Blessed are those who return love for their neighbors for the hate and fear sown among them.
Blessed are those who delight in the beloved community which rises like the phoenix in the face of tyranny.

Walk with joy and mission.
Speak with truth and love.
Act with delight and wonder.

Arm in arm and hand in hand, we will win the day.

Share

Opening the Circle

In the glow of the full moon, we gather to welcome in the new year. Let us celebrate the new and the passing of the old. May our minds be opened to the illumination of this moment, so that we may see clearly the works we are called to, a justice-making in celebration. May our minds be renewed, our hands strengthened, and our will sharpened, that we might have the resolve to carry on.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the Wolf Moon rises full, pulling tides and truths alike to the surface. May we feel the call to justice, to transformation, to healing, and to celebration. In this sacred brightness of the Full Moon, we walk the path of the Via Transformativa: the way of change, the march of justice, the track of living love into form. The world aches for healing, and transformation begins not just in systems, but in souls.

This is a moon to act, to bless, to become.

Path Illumination

We have celebrated Advent and the Christmastide together. Now, in the light of the full moon, we are asked to see how this passage has changed us. As Meister Eckhart asked, what does it matter if a child was born 2000 years ago if he is not born now? Look at your life under the light of this moon and ask what has changed. What is being born? What is being renewed?

The justice that we are seeking is one of healing and reparation, of coming together as a stronger community once again. We remember that even as the continents drift apart, they will inevitably join back together. We only hope that through our intervention and through our actions, we can speed up the healing of our society and of all those who have been harmed by it.

The Sacred Question

As the Wolf Moon howls in the sky, we hear within it one question, one clear call upon ourselves. In this moment, what comes to mind? What injustice, what pain, what thing needs to change? What change has already happened that you feel called to celebrate?

Remember, we are not called to go out and be great heroes that single-handedly change the world. We are called to participate and to call others into solidarity with us to bring this change into the world. Though the actions we take may be small, many small actions add together and grow into a wave that brings great change to the world.

Embodied Practice

Remember when we heard the wolf howl earlier? What did it say to you? What did it bring up in your mind? Take some time, maybe 5 to 15 minutes, and work with that. Stay with it. Do it however you feel works best for you. You may want to pull out a journal and write about it. Think about the ramifications and what it is that you feel called to in this present moment. Maybe you just need to close your eyes and sit with your breath, or go for a walk and just be with those ideas for a little bit.

In the end, try to come up with one sentence. Not what you are going to do next, but why what you feel called to matters. What about it resonates with you so strongly? Why do you feel called to that thing in particular? This Wolf Moon has illuminated something in your mind. What specifically about it is calling for repair?

Blessing of Becoming

May the light of the first full moon of the year renew and refresh you, preparing you to shine ever so brightly in the days to come. Carry its light with you throughout the month, so that it might illuminate your path and help you to find the way through the shadowed moments when the steps become hard to see. May the grace ever present in this world shine through the moon and illuminate you, reminding you of its eternal presence. The original blessing that we were created in cannot be destroyed. It can only be covered up or buried. The work that we are called to is to free it again, so its light may ever shine.

Invocation

We pause, not to leave the world behind,
but to notice that we have never been outside of it.

The ground beneath us is alive.
The breath within us is borrowed.
The silence around us is already listening.

What is ancient is still speaking.
What is becoming is already near.
Nothing needs to be summoned.
Nothing needs to be forced.

We rest our attention where life is stirring,
where meaning leans toward us without demand,
where the quiet pull of wonder asks only that we notice.

May we be gentle enough to feel what draws us.
Spacious enough to let it take shape.
Open enough to let it move beyond us when the time comes.

We enter this moment as we are,
held within a living whole,
ready to listen.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the first quarter moon cuts a bold curve through the night, a bright edge of becoming against the sky. May we feel the call to create, to explore, to dance with the holy spark that stirs within us. In the generative tension of the First Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Creativa: the way of inspiration, of sacred imagination, of shaping what has never been before. Our souls reach not for certainty, but for expression: for the joy of making, of playing, of sketching the unseen into form.

This is a moon to imagine, to risk, to begin.

Theme: The Ten Powers and the Via Creativa

The Ground of Co-Creation

According to Brian Swimme, creation operates through ten powers. As we learn to co-create the cosmos, it is important for us to have a good understanding of these ten powers and how we operate and cooperate with them.

Seamlessness: Union Without Effort

The first power is Seamlessness. We can see this seamlessness through the very panentheistic and animistic nature of the universe, that we are in God and God is in us. But it is so much more than that. Our starting point is this understanding, not just of union, but that we are all a part of the ground that we walk on. We begin with this union, not with effort. The better we can see that we are rooted in the cosmos, the easier it is for creativity to resist ego, competition, and isolation.

We live, move, and breathe in this seamless whole, a part and entire in and of ourselves. This is the real meaning of the phrase “As above, so below.” The mutual indwelling of the heavens and the earth means that anything that happens in one happens in the other through the ripple and the seamless pattern of all creation. The effect may look different at different scales, but it is the one cause we’re playing through all of them that makes it happen.

Centration: Attention as Creative Power

In The Book of Twenty-Four Philosophers, we read, “God is an infinite sphere, whose center is everywhere and whose circumference nowhere.” We find this to be true with the cosmos as well. The Big Bang is coming from wherever you are. Its center appears to be everywhere, and its edge nowhere.

So when the cosmos itself begins to create, it relies on its power of Centration. It draws things to its center, to a central focal point, so that new things can be organized and arise. This is how stars form, planets accrete, and cells organize. Our own creativity requires this kind of focus, a center to honor what matters. What we give our attention to is what we help bring into being.

Allurement: Drawn by Love, Not Coercion

In this way, the cosmos activates its third power: Allurement, drawing things together. The cosmos is not coercive. It doesn’t force things together. It pulls things in, it attracts them one to another so that new things can be formed. Meaning, likewise, beckons us. Desire is not a flaw but a compass, but we must keep it in check, for when desire becomes too strong, it seeks to control and to coerce. When we ask ourselves what draws us with love rather than fear, we are seeing what is desiring to be co-created with us, and that co-creation is already happening.

Emergence: Hospitality to the New

In the Via Negativa, we opened ourselves to spaciousness, and now in the Via Creativa, something new can be born in that space. This is the fourth power of Emergence. Co-creation means leaving room for outcomes that we did not plan and having the hospitality to greet them when they arise. We cannot always predict what will be created, but what we can predict is that something new always arises when the space is open for it.

Homeostasis: Sustaining What Is Born

This is where the fifth power becomes increasingly important, and that is the power of Homeostasis. “Homeostasis” is a big word, but it goes beyond balance or harmony. It is about everything living in right relationship, care, and rhythm sustaining what is created. Creativity and the creative act do not stop once the new thing is made. It requires ongoing mutual care so that life can flourish. The new must learn to live in the cosmos and find the place that sustains it and where it sustains the life around it. This is the power that is absent in most destructive acts.

Cataclysm: Breaking for the Sake of Life

But don’t be mistaken and think that destruction has no part to play in the creative act. In the sixth power, Cataclysm, we learn to see that for some things to be born, others must be broken down, disrupted, or possibly even collapse under their own weight so that something new can arise. This generally happens when those things are no longer able to sustain life. Cataclysm, in this sense, is not an act of cruelty or chaos but a faithfulness to creativity and mutual care.

We may rage against the storm, the volcano, and the earthquake, but these are all ways for the Earth to release its tension, the sky to find balance between various temperature gradients, and for the Earth to recycle and renew itself. We must be careful in our creativity to wield this power lightly and carefully. We may need to take something apart in order to build something new. But if we dismantle the plane that we are flying in, we will all crash together.

Transmutation: Courage to Become

The seventh power of Transmutation is the very power of evolution itself, choosing to become over stagnation where we move forward and change. This is why creativity demands courage from us. The Via Creativa asks us to risk becoming something new rather than clinging to survival alone. Survival is not enough. We, like the cosmos, seek life and life most abundant.

Radioactive decay will eventually turn uranium to lead. This transmutation takes something very dangerous and makes it something still toxic, but not in the same way. Harm is reduced. All things must change, transmute, and evolve if they are to survive.

Transformation: Changing the Pattern of Relationship

The eighth power sounds a lot like the seventh, but Transformation is not about the thing itself changing. It’s about the change in its relationship to everything else and how all of those relationships change. Here, in transformation, change becomes communal and systemic, and not merely individual.

This is the struggle that we’re having in society today, where many have transmuted into a new kind of human, one acting out of compassion or the fourth chakra, while many are still living in the first three. If you are only motivated by survival, lust, or power, then a society built on compassion is frightening and terrifying. The transmutation has happened, but the transformation is being rejected.

For transformation to be successful, space has to be made for more people to transmute into this new compassionate being. And in that space, making a new homeostasis has to be found. Or, if we look at our society and the way it’s run today, homeostasis itself has to be found, since it has been lost and we have not known her for some time.

Interrelatedness: Creativity in Communion

Just as in the first power we talked about the seamlessness of the cosmos, it’s in the ninth power of Interrelatedness that we start to understand the parts in and of themselves within that seamless whole. We have to start asking ourselves how we can build better connections and live with fuller compassion, how we can mutually influence each other through the creative act so that we can live better in the cosmos together.

Nothing creates alone. All things are created through a cascade of mutual interdependencies, creating and co-creating new things as reality ripples out. In understanding these interrelated connections, we learn how to better move and operate in the world and, through our creative powers, imagine solutions that can bring us all together for the betterment of all life and the cosmos itself.

Radiance: Creativity Given Away

The final power, the tenth power, is Radiance. The cosmos shines forth. It is generous and expressive. It is creativity completing itself by giving itself away. This is the endless pouring out we talk about in the Via Negativa that finds its fruition here in the Via Creativa, where that outpouring, that giving, is truly not self-negation, but about connecting into this eternal flow that is constantly moving through us out into the cosmos.

We are not hoarding our wealth, our power, our imagination, our dreams. We are allowing them to flow out so that they can be seen, shared, and offered to others for the betterment of all that is, was, and ever shall be.

Living the Via Creativa

This is the creative act, the way of creation that we learn, and why we use words like mutual indwelling and mutual care. Because as you can see, through the powers of seamlessness and interrelatedness, all things work together to find homeostasis so that what is can be transmuted and transform all that is around it. The cataclysm comes about only to tear down what no longer gives life so that newness and blessing can take its place.

It is in learning to operate in and through these ten powers that we can truly live out this mutuality, this cosmic wonder that is being alive.

Practice: A Threefold Movement of Allurement, Emergence, and Radiance

Take a moment to arrive where you are. This is a time to remember what is already within you, not to step out of the world to pray. We live, move, and breathe within a seamless whole. It is within us, around us, and flowing through us at all times. Our roots are in the cosmos, and the cosmos lives in us.

Let that be enough to begin.

Allurement: Being Drawn

The cosmos does not create by force. It creates by attraction. So we begin here, not by deciding or striving, but by noticing.

Notice what is drawing you right now. Not what pressures you. Not what frightens you. But what beckons you gently, with love rather than fear.

You do not need to act on it. You do not need to name it clearly. Simply let yourself feel the pull.

Desire is not a flaw. It is a compass. As you attend to what draws you, allow your attention to gather naturally.

This is centration. What you give your attention to is what you help bring into being. Remember: you are not separate from what draws you. This allurement arises within a seamless, interrelated field of life. You are already participating.

Rest here for a few breaths.

Emergence: Holding Space

Now, resist the urge to move too quickly. In the Via Negativa, we learned to open space. In the Via Creativa, something new can be born in that space. So we do less here, not more. Allow the spaciousness to remain.

Do not rush to define what is forming. Do not try to control its shape. Co-creation means leaving room for outcomes you did not plan and having the hospitality to greet them when they arise.

Something new is always trying to emerge when the space is open for it. Let care come before action. Let homeostasis matter more than speed.

What is new must learn how to live, and it needs gentleness in order to survive. If something begins to loosen or fall away, do not panic. Cataclysm is not cruelty. It is faithfulness to life when what exists can no longer sustain it.

Hold this moment lightly. Creativity demands courage, but not haste.

Radiance: Letting It Flow

Now, without forcing a conclusion, allow the movement to turn outward.

The cosmos shines forth. It does not hoard its energy, its beauty, or its becoming. Radiance is creativity completing itself by giving itself away.

Whatever has been drawn to you, whatever has begun to form does not belong to you alone. You are not being asked to spend yourself. You are being invited to participate in a flow that was never meant to stop with you.

Let imagination flow.

Let compassion flow.

Let energy, insight, and care move outward to be seen, shared, and offered for the betterment of all that is. Trust that interrelatedness will carry what you release to where it is needed. This is not self-negation. This is mutual indwelling made visible.

Release

This is the creative act. This is the way of creation we learn. Through allurement, emergence, and radiance, supported by seamlessness and interrelatedness, the cosmos finds homeostasis, transmutation, and transformation. What no longer gives life is gently dismantled. What is new is given space to grow. What is alive is allowed to shine.

Remain for a moment in this awareness. You are not outside the creative work of the universe. You are inside it. And it is inside you.

Closing Blessing

Light that grows quietly,
teach us how to grow without force.

Life that draws us gently,
teach us how to listen without fear.

Breath that gathers what is scattered,
teach us how to attend to what matters.

Space that welcomes what is new,
teach us how to wait without grasping.

Care that keeps fragile things alive,
teach us how to tend without control.

Change that breaks what no longer gives life,
teach us how to let go without cruelty.

Becoming that asks for courage,
teach us how to risk more than survival.

Healing that reshapes our shared life,
teach us how to make room for one another.

Connection that binds all things together,
teach us how to live with compassion.

Radiance that pours itself out,
teach us how to give without hoarding.

May what is forming within us
find breath, care, and belonging.

May what we release from our hands
find its way to where it is needed.

And may we remember,
even as this moment ends,
that we are never outside the living whole,
never alone in the work of becoming,
never cut off from the flow of life.

Let what has stirred continue to move.
Let what has been given continue to shine.

Amen.

Invocation

Holy Mystery who dwells in the deep night,
Source of life hidden beneath shadow and stillness,
We come to you in the quiet of this New Moon.

The sky is dark.
The air is cold.
Even the moon has vanished from our sight.

Yet we trust that nothing is empty in your creation.
That the silence is full.
That the darkness is at work.

Teach us to rest where becoming begins.
Help us release what has passed away
And trust the unseen labor of renewal within us.

In this hush before joy,
In this pause before light returns,
Invite us into patience, into play, into hope.

May we find you not in answers,
But in spaciousness.
Not in striving,
But in gentle expectation.

Hold us now in the deep night that cradles all new life,
Until we are ready to rise again.

Amen.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the new moon veils the sky, cloaking the heavens in silence and shadow. May we feel the call to surrender, to sacred unknowing, to the holy hush that dwells beneath words. In the deep darkness of the New Moon, we walk the path of the Via Negativa: the way of release, of letting fall what no longer serves, of listening for the presence hidden in absence. Our souls ache not for answers, but for peace within the questions, for a love that meets us in the void.

This is a moon to release, to empty, to rest.

Theme: The Deep Night That Cradles Becoming

The sky is dark, and the nights are cold. Even the moon is shrouded in the shadow of the Earth. The deepest night cradles the glorious becoming of the Word and Light of God. The air is crisp and dry. Most of the birds have flown south for the winter. A calm silence fills the night. Just as we await the return of the light to the day, we await the return of the light to the face of the moon. Expectation and longing fill us. We yearn for the warmth of life to fill our lives again.

In the heart of this darkness and in the spirit of this silence, something is stirring within us. In the dark womb of creation, life wriggles. It kicks in its endless dream. The dark is not empty, but filled. It is full of potential, full of hope, full of everything necessary to bring new life to the cosmos. In this deepest night, the cosmos itself is hard at work preparing for the world to come.

The seeds await the first rays of the sun and the first rains of the year. The land slumbers and restores itself as the mycelial networks consume all that has passed away. Nothing has been discarded, everything is being put to new use. Complexity is broken down into its simplest forms so that it may be built back up into something fresh and needed in the world.

This time of year is rife with burnout. As nature invites us to step back and to heal, to let go of all of the things that do not serve us anymore and to break down our understandings so that we can build new ones for the year to come, we push forward and strive on. This is not a time of retreat, but one in which we regroup. We let go, make space, and we seek new ways to move forward in the future.

When we do not have the nutrients that we need, exhaustion fills us. When we do not have the wisdom or the words that we require, we stumble blindly in unknowing. This New Moon invites us to sit, to wait, to be patient, to understand that in our deepest heart and in the furthest recesses within us, something new is waiting to be born. That urgency that we feel is actually an expectation of good things to come. It is a hope that drives us. But if it drives us too hard, the engine of our life will break down, and we will lose more ground.

To be strong in these shadowed times is to understand when we need to embrace our cozy, warm, hidden places where we can restore, repair, and rebuild, so that when we have strength again, we will be better ready to take on the challenges ahead.

Scripture tells us that it is the glory of the wise to find that which God has hidden. God is not hiding out of malice or disdain for the world. When God feels hidden, it is like a child wanting to play. In the darkness of the New Moon, in that silence, we listen closely for the innocent giggles that are calling us ever closer. God has not withdrawn from the world. God walks this plane with us, encouraging us to play.

When we lose that sense of play in our own hearts, we lose the child within. Jesus told us to come to faith like a child, not to be simple, but to retain that playful imagination that allows us to find humor in every situation, no matter how strange or bizarre. God is not revealed in darkness, but in that darkness we learn to play again. Like Wisdom before the dawn of creation, we learn to play with the divine so that we can renew our strength and take up as wings of the wind.

In our hearts, we learn to play again, and in that play we are restored and healed. We learn to let go and enter that open spaciousness within that allows new things to be born.

Under the shadow of the dark moon, just before the first sliver of the sun’s light appears on her beautiful face, we are invited to remember the joy we had as children and to reawaken the hope that carries us forward. Not a false belief, not a command or instruction, but a posture of the heart that reminds us that our dreams drive us ever forward toward greatness, toward making the world to come.

Without hope as the vision that carries us forward, we truly have nothing. It is easy to forget that calling of our heart, that dream that once lived so vibrantly within us, that hope that called us ever forward toward great and wonderful things. Our hands can shape our lives in so many ways. Our bodies can carry us into new and amazing places. We only have to hope that we can get there, hope that when we arrive something new will be found.

Hope is not something that merely sustains us. It is something that drives us forward. It is the vision of the world to come that invites us ever to walk toward it, even when the path is blocked and we must find a way around or through. It is hope that gives us the strength to keep moving.

Practice: Resting in the Deep Night That Cradles Becoming

Begin by finding a place of stillness.

If possible, dim the lights or sit in the dark. Let your body sense the night rather than analyze it. Allow the quiet to be what it is.

Settle your feet on the ground. Let your hands rest easily, open, ungrasping. Take a slow breath in through your nose, cool and steady. Exhale gently through your mouth, releasing the day.

Take several breaths like this, letting your body arrive.

Now, imagine the sky above you. The moon is hidden. No light is reflected. Even the heavens have gone quiet.

Feel the way the cold night wraps around the world. Notice the stillness. The absence of movement. The way creation itself seems to pause.

Let yourself rest here.

Bring your attention inward. Notice where you feel tired, overextended, or thin. Notice any urgency that has been driving you forward. You do not need to fix it. Simply acknowledge it.

With your next breath, imagine that you are stepping into a warm, hidden place within yourself. A place that does not need answers. A place that does not need progress. A place that exists only for restoration.

Rest there.

Now imagine the deep night not as emptiness, but as fullness. Life stirring quietly. Dreams wriggling beneath the surface. Seeds breaking down so they can become something new.

If it helps, imagine the mycelial threads beneath the soil, gently dissolving what has passed away and feeding what will come next. Nothing wasted. Nothing discarded.

Let this image remind you that even now, something in you is preparing for the world to come.

Stay with your breath. Slow. Spacious. Unforced.

As you breathe, listen. Not for words. Not for instruction. But for the subtle invitation of play. The quiet joy that whispers rather than shouts.

Imagine divine presence here not as a voice, but as a gentle laughter in the dark. A presence that invites you closer, not through effort, but through curiosity.

Allow yourself to soften.
Allow yourself to rest.
Allow yourself to not know.

Now, without forcing it, let a small ember of hope appear in your awareness. Not a demand. Not a plan. Just a vision. A sense that something good is forming, even if you cannot yet name it.

Hold that hope lightly, the way you might hold a fragile flame in cupped hands.

Rest with it for a few breaths.

When you are ready, begin to return to your body. Feel the ground beneath you. Feel the warmth of your breath. Gently open your eyes, carrying with you this posture of quiet expectancy.

Before you rise, take a moment to offer gratitude for the darkness that nourishes becoming, and for the hope that continues to draw you forward, even now.

Closing Blessing

Holy Presence who walks with us in the dark,
We thank you for the stillness that restores us
And the hidden work of renewal already unfolding within us.

As we leave this quiet place,
Help us carry the posture of hope rather than haste,
Trust rather than fear,
Gentle strength rather than exhaustion.

May we remember that nothing has been wasted,
That even now creation is preparing the world to come,
And that our own lives are being shaped
In ways we cannot yet see.

Teach us to move forward with patience,
To protect the fragile ember of hope within us,
And to trust that light will return
In its own time.

Until the moon shows her face again,
Keep us rooted, restored, and open to becoming.

Amen.

Invocation

Light that stirs before it shines,
Presence that glimmers at the edge of night,
We come to this moment with open hearts.

The long dark has wrapped itself around the world,
yet we sense a glow rising within us,
a shimmer carried on the breath of creation.
Let this early warmth awaken wonder in our spirits.

Teach us to feel the ache of hope without fear,
to trust the yearning that draws all things toward balance.
As the Third Quarter Moon fades into its chrysalis,
remind us that every diminishing light prepares the way
for a brighter dawn.

Open us to the tenderness moving through the cosmos.
Let our hearts mirror the moon
as it catches the promise of the coming day.
Guide us to gather love, joy, and compassion
as nourishment for the transformation to come.

May this season help us rest in the glow of beginnings,
and may the hope we kindle here
shine gently into the world.

Amen.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the third quarter moon rises, opening the middle way between light and darkness. May we feel the call to awe, to cosmic hospitality, to the art of savor, and to the kin-dom of God here and now. In the sacred light of the Third Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Positiva: the way of wonder, the dance of delight, courage to speak the living Word of God into form. Our souls ache for blessing and community as we gather to taste the sweetness of life and share the joy with each other.

This is a moon to awaken, to bless, to behold.

Theme: The Early Glow: When Creation Begins to Brighten

The nights are long, but there’s something in the air. A glow just on the horizon, a shimmering just beyond us that we can feel growing ever closer. This is the dawn of the new creation, the dream that exists within us, born from that first flaring forth of the cosmos. It is a great wonder, deep within us, the power that we have to make everything new. The cosmos itself was born from such an instinct, from a desire for the light to flare forth, to shower energy and possibility into the cosmos.

As we watch the fading light across the face of the moon, we know that new light will be born, and we embrace that hope within us that this new light will come, and with it a new flaring forth of hospitality, compassion, passion, and hope for the world to come.

Deep down within each of our hearts, we can feel an ache, a desire to welcome others into our lives and to see the world born anew. That ache, that hunger, that thirst within us is the hope of the new light, that desire to see all things reborn and made new. This is the sign of Advent, the sign that Christmas is coming. That hope that dwells within us, that even through pain and struggle, hope and strife, we will get through to that glorious new creation.

This isn’t just a fantasy or a daydream. It is the deep yearning within us and the cosmos to see everything brought into balance. Water seeks its level, and the light drives out the darkness. Heat feeds the cold and makes it warm again. These are the yearnings within us at this time: to bring peace and hope back into our world.

As we stand on the threshold of the birth of this light, we are enamored by its beauty. We can feel the world beginning to change, and cosmic tenderness is born within us. Wonder is our soul’s first prayer, crying out to the cosmos for answers and for rebirth. We see these hopes cast on the face of the moon as a mirror catching the rising glow of the sun. As we watch the light fade in the third quarter moon, we anticipate its return in the first. This is its last glimmer before it enters the chrysalis of night, to be born anew, to refresh the cosmos with new creation.

In this time, we are the caterpillars of Advent, gathering in all of that hope, savoring it deep within us so that when we enter our chrysalis and are broken down to be reformed, we will be ready to rise again with new wings and a new outlook, a new hope that will shimmer and shine to awaken all creation. Take in all the love that you can. Bring together all the hope that you can. Harvest the joy of the season and hold it near and dear. This is the fuel that will help us to transform, to be made anew.

We are not preparing for the sleep of winter but for the chrysalis, the cocoon that will reshape us so that we can reshape the cosmos, us as co-creators with the divine and with each other to bring justice, healing, and restoration to the world.

Remember, at the great dawn, the first flaring forth of the cosmos, so much energy was released that everything became opaque and light could not shine forth. This was not forever. Eventually the light grew stronger as things coalesced, and stars were born, and light broke through that cosmic haze. Again we stand at the precipice of the great flaring forth, and while we know it will be thick and the haze will blind many to seeing the glory to come, we are opening ourselves up to take in all that is flowing through us so that when the time is right, we will be transformed, and in our transforming, we will change everything.

Practice: Standing in the Early Glow

Find a quiet place where the night feels close. You might dim the lights, sit near a window, or step outside for a moment. Settle your body. Let your breath soften.

Begin by noticing the long night around you. Feel how the world rests in its dark season. You do not need to resist it. The night is part of the story.

Now bring your awareness to the faintest sense of brightness within you. Not a sun. Not a star. Just the early glow that shimmers on the horizon of your being. The small, steady pulse of new creation. Let yourself feel that warmth gathering.

Imagine the Third Quarter Moon above you. Its fading light is a mirror catching the promise of dawn. Let that image rest in your heart. This is the moon’s last glimmer before it enters its chrysalis of night. As you breathe in, imagine drawing some of that quiet glow into your chest. As you breathe out, imagine releasing any heaviness that keeps you from hope.

Feel for the ache within you, the yearning for welcome, the desire to see the world made new. Do not push it away. Give it room. This ache is not weakness. It is the soul sensing the dawn before it rises.

Place a hand over your heart if it helps. Let the warmth of your touch remind you that you carry the dream of the world inside you. Let this hope gather in you as a caterpillar gathers food for the transformation ahead. Love, joy, kindness, tenderness. Take in what nourishes you. Let it settle in the hidden places of your spirit.

Now imagine yourself entering a chrysalis made of night. Not a prison. A sanctuary. A place where the old can soften and the new can take shape. Trust that what rests in this darkness is preparing you for wings yet unformed. Trust that your transformation will help transform the world.

When you are ready, return to the early glow. Picture a spark rising within you. Picture the world around you beginning to brighten. Hold this simple truth for a few breaths: the cosmos is preparing to flare forth again, and you are part of that rising light.

Let the meditation end with this quiet intention:

Sit for as long as you need. When you rise from this practice, carry a small ember of that glow with you into the night.

Closing Blessing

Holy One who moves in silence and spark,
we thank you for the glow we have met in this moment.
Let the tenderness we felt here
take root in the quiet places of our hearts.

As the moon enters its chrysalis of night,
teach us to trust the slow work of becoming.
Hold us while we soften,
steady us while we gather strength,
and guide us as we rise toward the promise of new light.

May the ache of hope remain a blessing within us.
May the yearning for balance shape our choices.
May the warmth growing in our spirits
spill outward into justice, mercy, and compassion.

Walk with us as we journey throughout this season.
Keep us attuned to the shimmer of creation’s dawning.
And when the time comes for us to be transformed,
let our transformation bless the world.

Amen.

Invocation

O Flame that cannot be quenched,
O Light that shines in the longest night,
We come to you beneath this Cold Moon,
Gathered not in fear, but in fierce devotion.

Brigid of the Hearth,
Foster-mother of Christ,
You who keened for a broken world
And still sing songs of healing and fire,
Come walk with us now.

Teach us to tend what must be tended.
Kindle within us the courage to act.
Let your forge fire shape our tools of peace,
And your hearth fire warm the places in us gone cold.

Awen, holy breath of inspiration,
Flow freely in this moment.
Fill our minds with vision,
Our hearts with compassion,
And our hands with holy resolve.

We are not waiting for heroes.
We are remembering who we are.
We are the people of the flame.

Let this light be a beginning.
Let this Cold Moon rise upon a people unafraid to burn bright.

Amen. So be it. So may it blaze.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the Cold Moon rises full, pulling tides and truths alike to the surface. May we feel the call to justice, to transformation, to healing, and to celebration. In this sacred brightness of the Full Moon, we walk the path of the Via Transformativa: the way of change, the march of justice, track of living love into form. The world aches for healing, and transformation begins not just in systems, but in souls.

This is a moon to act, to bless, to become.

Theme: The Fire That Cannot Be Quenched

Here in the United States, the first snows have fallen and the temperatures have dropped. That’s one of the reasons this time of year’s full moon is called the Cold Moon. The cold has arrived, and with it the knowledge that winter is fully bearing down on us.

It’s unusual for us to talk about Brigid in these cold winter months. She’s usually associated with spring. But it’s here in the cold that the need for her fire, her understanding of how to tend to the animals, the craft, and her ability to heal is most needed. It’s in her inspiration that we access the Awen, the Imbas, the power to do what we need to do and to imagine the things that need to be done.

And so as we celebrate this full moon, we call on her grace as the foster mother of Christ to give us access to the Awen, so that it might fill our minds and enliven us to do all the work of transformation and change, and to always remember to celebrate in the midst of it. That celebration is necessary for these dark times.

Brigid understands our suffering. She lost all of her children to the great wars that harmed her people. It is said that she was the first to keen on the island of Ireland. She understands the need for wisdom, for strength, for home and hearth. She understands that everyone needs to be taken care of. It is even said that her holy animals cry out in times of injustice.

In times of deep prayer lately, I feel like I can hear the bellow of the ox, the cry of the rams, and the war cry of the boars. In times like these, we are reminded to be at the hearth: to stand strong and prepare the implements that will be necessary not only to stave off the darkness, but to keep our people strong together, healthy, and inspired through all that faces us.

Those who are arrayed against us have learned that if they just keep pushing; flooding the zone, as they say, they can overwhelm us and cause us to miss what they are actually doing. It is more incumbent upon us now, more than ever, to have that attention:

• To read the warnings in the clouds.

• To listen to the messages from the brooks and the rivers.

• To see what is meant to be unseen in these perilous times.

Brigid’s fire is a forging fire. It is meant to make implements of peace and implements of war. But it is also the hearth fire that warms the house and prepares the food. It is the flame around which we gather that inspires us to act for one another as much as for ourselves. It is the fire that burns in each of our hearts that tells us that this injustice cannot be allowed to stand.

The fire of Brigid is the light that we spoke of earlier. It is the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness could not overcome it.

When the Irish converted to Christianity, they referred to Brigid as the Mary of the Gaels. They called her the foster mother of Christ. A foster mother is one who takes care of, lends her credence to, and gives absolute devotion to her foster children. Fosterage was a big part of the tradition at the time. Many children had a closer relationship with their foster parents than with their birth parents.

As the foster mother of Christ, she takes in this power, this Spirit, this One who holds the cosmos together, who sustains it, and gives us hope and life. Through her work at the hearth, at the forge, in healing and in song, in keening and in laughter, she reminds us that this fire, this light, is the one that holds us together.

There will be many attempts to divide us and to break us apart. But so long as we gather around this warm communal flame, we will stand tall and we will stand strong. In the end, we will be victorious.

Creation Spirituality reminds us that we are each artists, mystics, and prophets. All of these are actions born out of compassion, justice, and celebration. These are the core values of Brigid, and these are all acts that are inspired by and empowered by the Awen.

Now, more than ever, we need to be artists: able to imagine and create visions of a world of peace, hope, and equality. Of a land where equity rules and the unjust are brought low. Where the wealth gap is removed, and the people not only can afford to live, but have the basic right to live.

We remember the words of Jesus that tell us who are the righteous and who are the unrighteous. That we are here to:

• feed the hungry,

• give water to the thirsty,

• tend to the sick,

• give shelter to the poor,

• serve the widows and orphans,

• visit those who are imprisoned,

• and accept the refugee in our land.

Those who do this, do so to Christ. Those who refuse, deny him and cast him out. And he will say to them, “I never knew you.”

This is the calling placed on us.

As Brigid’s animals cry in the day and in the night at the great injustices in our country: ICE raids tearing apart families, genocide supported, and abusers freed, we need to remember who we are.

We are artists who can dream. We are mystics who can enter into that divine flow and know that the cosmos itself strives for interconnectedness and growth. That evolution only happens through cooperative work to keep each other alive. That competition is an illusion placed over the world to blind us to the truth.

As prophets, we speak the word and shine the light of truth on injustice, pain, and suffering. We don’t just point it out; we point the way to a better life and a better future.

As believers, we are the ones who stand in the gap practicing the two great commandments: to love our God with all our heart, mind, and spirit, and to love our neighbor as ourselves.

Since God is in doing and being; since God is found in acts of love and beauty and justice, in wisdom, perseverance, endurance, strength, and mercy, it is in doing these things that we love God. And in loving God, we love our neighbors.

As James says in his epistle: “By my works, I will show you my faith (James 2:18).”

This is the life we are called to: to accept that glorious flow of Awen, that inspiration that flows through us and through the power, inspiration, and aid of Brigid to tend that hearth fire and forge fire so that we will endure and make it to the end.

Because only when we stand together, only when we work together, only when we band together, can we get to the other side.

No leader has ever saved us. No leader has ever brought us out of slavery, bondage, or war. Only the people can do this: the people who stand up, who resist, and who have not forgotten how to dance.

When the chill buries itself deep into our bones, it can be hard to remember that we can be warm again. When the ice grows on the windows and hangs like teeth from the roof, threatening to devour us, it can feel like we’ve been conquered by it.

But we must remember that flame within us, that unquenchable flame, that light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness could not overcome it. That light is hope.

Hope is not something believed in; it’s something that is worked for. Faith, it’s said, is the essence of things unseen, the substance of things hoped for. Hope is getting up daily and working for it.

Just sitting and believing doesn’t accomplish anything. Again, as James says: “Faith without works is dead (James 2:26).”

It is up to us to stoke that fire every day: through prayer, through protest, through resistance, even through a post on social media. Do what is within your power, within your sphere. Vote. Speak up. Be mindful. Fire can warm or burn. We are not here to burn. We are here to heat up, to thaw, to give life to these cold times.

If we can awaken one heart, if we can thaw the frost in just one soul, we have saved a world. That is not nothing.

Each thawed heart is another soul liberated from the cold, steely grip of despair. That is the work we are called to: to build communities of hope and action, filled with light and fire, inspired by the Awen, ever available in every moment.

The call of this Cold Moon is to remember who we are.

We are the people of the flame.

Our hearts burn with it. The Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary beat within our chest. Those flames keep us warm. That water and light sustain us. That very blood flows through our veins.

In every generation, the darkness tries to overcome the light. And so Jesus reminds us: do not hide your light under a bushel. Be like a gleaming city on a hill.

That’s not about our nation or our cities, it’s about each and every one of us.

We are each cities on our own hill, shining as examples of what the world could look like if it were filled with hope and compassion, wisdom and justice, spaciousness and acceptance.

We are the light of this world. The Cosmic Christ shines through us.

All we have to do is remember that.

Be it.

And do it.

Practice: A Fire to Tend

1. Light the Hearth or Candle

Prepare your space. Turn down the lights. Wrap yourself in something warm. If you have a hearth, tend it. If not, light a single candle, one that burns slow and steady.

As the flame rises, speak this prayer aloud or in your heart:

Flame of compassion,
Fire of the hearth,
You who burn in the heart of the Sacred,
I kindle this light in memory of the hungry, the thirsty,
The sick, the caged, the unhoused, the forsaken.
May this flame be food, water, shelter, healing, and kinship
To all who are in need.

Let my hands be yours.
Let my heart be yours.
Let my fire be love that acts,
Not love that waits.

Sit with the candle a moment. Let the heat settle into your bones. Let Brigid’s fire speak.

2. Act on the Awen

The Awen flows not to soothe alone, but to stir.
Listen now, not to the clamor of the world, but to the quiet insistence rising in your belly.

What fire needs tending?
What action is within reach today?
What voice must be raised?
What silence needs breaking?

Choose one small thing and do it.

Send the donation.
Make the call.
Write the post.
Speak the truth.
Sign the name.
Hold the hand.
Feed the soul.
Break the ice.

It does not have to be everything. It must be something.

This is how we stoke the flame. This is how we thaw the frost.

3. Dance the Flame

When your action is done, yes, even if it was small, pause.

Breathe. Laugh. Move.

Play a song that makes your spirit sway. Eat something warm and sweet. Tell someone what you did. Celebrate not your strength, but the light that moved through you.

Joy is resistance.
Celebration is defiance.
Hope is a sacred revolt against despair.

Tonight, under this Cold Moon, you are not alone. You are a hearthkeeper, a bearer of the light.

May you burn.
May you bless.
May you build.

Together, we remember:
We are the people of the flame.

Closing Blessing

Brigid of the Hearth and Forge,
Keeper of the warm light in the long dark,
As this Cold Moon shines above us,
We offer back to you the fire you have stirred within.

Strengthen our resolve to love boldly.
Guard our courage when the world grows heavy.
Guide our hands toward justice
And our hearts toward compassion that never grows thin.

Awen, holy breath that moves through all creation,
Continue to flow where we walk.
Inspire our choices,
Refresh our imagination,
And remind us that the smallest act done with love
tilts the whole world toward hope.

Sacred One, you know the cold that settles in our bones,
Yet you kindle a flame that never dies.
Keep that fire bright in us.
Keep that fire gentle in us.
Keep that fire shared among us
So no one must walk through these nights alone.

As we rise from this time of prayer,
Let us rise as hearthkeepers and healers,
Bearers of light,
Creators of change,
People who remember how to warm the world.

May the peace of the Holy One surround us.
May the fire of Brigid sustain us.
May the Awen sing through every breath we take.

So be it.
So may it shine.

Invocation

O Queen of the Wind,
Hind of snow, Owl of night, Whisper in the sky,
we feel you stirring in the silence of this moonlit threshold.

In your breath we find the hush of winter’s promise.
In your wings we are shielded from despair.
You who walk between death and rebirth,
draw near to us now as we open the gate of the First Quarter Moon.

Let the cloudblessings gather.
Let the winds rise gently in our souls.
Guide our minds into dreaming,
our spirits into daring,
our hearts into imagining the world not as it is,
but as it could yet become.

We come not for conquest, but for wonder.
Not to dominate, but to co-create.
Teach us to trust the unseen,
to follow the owl’s flight,
to see with new eyes the paths that lie open
under your sky-born rule.

Amen. So be it. So may we soar.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the first quarter moon cuts a bold curve through the night, a bright edge of becoming against the sky. May we feel the call to create, to explore, to dance with the holy spark that stirs within us. In the generative tension of the First Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Creativa: the way of inspiration, of sacred imagination, of shaping what has never been before. Our souls reach not for certainty, but for expression: for the joy of making, of playing, of sketching the unseen into form.

This is a moon to imagine, to risk, to begin.

Theme:

On this first-quarter moon, we open ourselves up to the power of the Via Creativa. Today my mind turns to the Fairy Queen of the Wind, who governs this time of year and who has such a deep connection to the element of Sky. The blessed white doe invites us into a time of introspection and renewal so that our creativity can be reborn. This is a time for divination and allowing our imaginations free rein to connect deeply to our spirits so we can find the deep yearning of our hearts and have the courage to ride those images into reality.

The Queen of the Wind governs the Northern Hemisphere from Samhain to Bealtaine. She brings the cold and the wind of winter, and governs the liminal space between death and rebirth. This is the place where our creativity arises, in that unseen space of the sky which lives with us unseen until the clouds, the rains, and the storms break upon us.

For most of us, our creativity works the same way. We often don’t see its magic as it works through our lives until we take on a project or make something, but it is ever present with us. Like the other crowd, creativity is unseen and mischievous.

Take this time for dreaming, especially daydreaming. Open yourself up to hope beyond your wildest dreams so the cloudblessings can rain down upon us. Any way you can enter those liminal spaces and embrace them fully, do it, so we can craft and divine a most gracious and powerful way for us to forge the future we desire rather than the one the powers that be wish to press upon us. It is only through the uncertainty of hope that we can break their chains and build a bright and better tomorrow.

The Queen of the Wind never bends the knee to the fashionable and loudest voices of the times, but focuses on the truth of the moment and the future that needs to be born. In the shadow of her wings we find our strength to carry on.

As the Hind white as freshly fallen snow, we imagine the presence of the Queen of the Winds thriving in winter. As a cat or owl, we see her liminal cleverness. As we meditate on her connection to the Via Creativa and the element of the Sky, her owl haunts the dark night of our souls and leads us to the cloudblessings we seek through these winter months.

In the owl’s eyes, we see the wonder and magic of the season take flight as we strive for a better world of tomorrow. We are emboldened to embrace the challenges set before us as we endeavour to bring our imaginations to life in this world filled with creative possibilities.

Practice or Invitation

Find a place where the air can reach you. An open window is enough. Sit comfortably. Let your hands rest on your lap. Close your eyes, but soften the face so it feels more like listening than shutting out the world.

Breath as Threshold

Feel your breath without trying to shape it. Imagine each inhale as a small doorway. Imagine each exhale as the doorway opening wider. The Queen of the Wind is not the breath itself but the motion that makes the breath possible. Let yourself sense that motion without describing it. The goal is not belief. The goal is perception of change.

Inviting Her Presence

When you feel your breath become steady, picture a faint stirring at the edge of your awareness. Not a figure. More like the first hint of a breeze before it touches the skin. Let that stirring grow until you can feel it brushing the edges of your thoughts. Treat it as the way she arrives. Her presence is the shift, not the shape.

Joining the Sky

Bring your attention to the air outside your body. If there is wind, let its tempo become the rhythm of her steps. If the air is still, imagine the stillness as her poised attention. Picture the sky as a canvas and the currents of air as her artistry. Each movement of breath inside you is now a small echo of the creativity that shapes the sky.

Creative Motion

As you breathe, imagine each inhale pulling in a thread of inspiration. These threads can feel light or sharp or cool. Let the character of the air determine the character of the inspiration. On the exhale, release anything that feels heavy. Picture the Queen of the Wind sweeping out the dust in the corners of your imagination. You do not need to choose what is swept away. Trust the motion itself.

Inner Weather

Let your thoughts behave like clouds. When an idea forms, watch it drift. When one dissolves, let it dissolve. Try not to chase them. Observe them as the Queen of the Wind observes the sky she shapes. Creativity becomes an atmosphere rather than a single point of focus.

Closing

When the practice feels complete, acknowledge her season. She rules the darker half of the year, so let the final breaths feel quiet and cool. Picture her presence receding the way a breeze recedes, not vanishing but stepping into the next layer of air. Open your eyes gently when your breath feels entirely your own again.

Closing Blessing

O Queen of the Wind,
you who move unseen through sky and spirit alike,
we give thanks for your presence among us.

In the hush of owl wings and the whisper of clouds,
you have stirred our dreaming and dared our hearts
to remember what is possible.

Let your cloudblessings continue to fall gently
on our thoughts, our visions, our sacred longings.
Let your breath carry our imaginings
into the wide sky of becoming.

As we return to the rhythm of our days,
may we hold fast to the wonder you have awakened.
May we walk the world with courage,
bearing the spark of the unseen fire
into every act of creation.

Guide us now as you always have:
not by path or plan,
but by wind and whisper,
by beauty and becoming.

So be it.
Amen.
And may we fly.

Invocation

O Manannán mac Lir,
Keeper of the mists and guardian of the unseen,
you who ride the waves and walk the fields beneath them,
draw near to us now as we enter the sea of unknowing.

Help us to loosen our grip,
to release what no longer serves,
to unbind our sight from the illusion of surface
and learn to see with the eyes of the heart.

Where we see waves and distance,
teach us to glimpse the flowering plain.

Where we feel lost in the mist,
let us sense your presence beside us in the boat.

Where silence deepens,
help us hear the hum of unseen life moving beneath.

We do not ask for answers.

We ask for courage,
to be still, to perceive,
and to receive the wisdom that waits below.

May your sea become our sanctuary.
May your vision become our way.
May we, too, bloom in the depths.
So be it.
So may we sail.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the new moon veils the sky, cloaking the heavens in silence and shadow. May we feel the call to surrender, to sacred unknowing, to the holy hush that dwells beneath words. In the deep darkness of the New Moon, we walk the path of the Via Negativa: the way of release, of letting fall what no longer serves, of listening for the presence hidden in absence. Our souls ache not for answers, but for peace within the questions, for a love that meets us in the void.

This is a moon to release, to empty, to rest.

Theme: The Sea of Unknowing and the Blooming Depths

As the new moon approaches once again, we set sail on the great and deep waves of the ocean, seeking to find the land of the silver branch, the blessed isle where it is always spring. The Via Negativa, the negative way, is all too often seen only as a path of pain and suffering, of letting be and letting go. But it is also the path of spaciousness and opening up. The Via Negativa is also a path of mindfulness. It is the place where we let go of all of our preconceived notions and hold attention so that we can take in everything that is happening around us.

As we enter the great sea of unknowing, we need this mindfulness and this attention more than ever.

In The Voyage of Bran, there’s a moment that shows us how this change needs to happen within us. Bran looks out and sees only a mist-covered ocean and waves beating on the ship. But Manannán mac Lir explains that to him, he sees a flowering plain stretched out in every direction.

This change in perspective shows us the beauty of letting go of our preconceptions. Where we see only water and waves, beneath the surface there’s plankton and algae and fish. Cephalopods are doing their work, and bivalves are filtering the water. There’s so much happening under the surface that we cannot see because the surface itself blinds us to it.

So who has seen the scene accurately? Is it Bran with the waves in the mist, or Manannán with the flowering field?

The analogy, the metaphor, of the flowering field works better, because that is what is happening under the waves. When we learn to let go of our preconceptions and enter a state of pure mindfulness, we are able to see the great mystery as it is: all of the moving parts and all of the things beyond our immediate grasp. This lesson of the Via Negativa opens us up to the great unseen mysteries that are revolving around us all the time, that we’re just incapable of seeing.

This is the great power of the ocean, of the sea, of the water itself, which often symbolizes our emotions, our dreams, the vast wells of wisdom down below. It’s in the water that the salmon of wisdom swims, unseen for most of its existence. It’s in this place of feeling where we encounter our intuition.

It’s only through honing our abilities in the Via Negativa that we can harness the true power of our intuition. In learning to have ears to hear and eyes to see, we unlock a superpower within ourselves: the glorious gift of mindfulness that opens us to worlds unimaginable without it.

In opening ourselves up to the spacious way of seeing, in embracing our voyage across the great sea of unknowing, in learning mindfulness as a powerful way for us to perceive the world and connect to our own intuition, we are learning to surrender to the world; that is, to accept it, to open up to it, to let it flow in and through us so that we can see the moments where we can shift it, where we can move it.

The hardest lesson in the Via Negativa is learning when not to act and when to act.

It is hard for us to remain still. It is hard for us to observe and to just be in the moment and really assess what is going on around us. But only if we learn to access our deep intuition, that wonderful wellspring of knowing within us that is beyond words and often beyond images, can we connect to the great storehouse of wisdom beneath the surface so that we can achieve all that we desire.

Surrendering to the great unknowing is not giving in to it. It’s accepting its presence in our lives and learning to see beneath its vast surface to find the truth beneath it.

This is a talent that is developed over time, but one that can guide us to all wisdom if we have the patience to do the work.

Practice: The Flowering Sea

Preparation

Find a quiet place to sit or lie down. Let your body settle. Feel your breath. Let each exhale be a small act of release.

Begin

Close your eyes.

Imagine yourself seated in a small boat, adrift on a vast and quiet ocean. There is no moon in the sky. Only the faint shimmer of stars breaks through the deep indigo mist.

You are alone, but not afraid. The wooden boat rocks gently with the waves. Let the rhythm of the sea sync with your breath in… and out…

You do not know where you are going, and that is all right. This is the sea of unknowing. You are safe here.

Let the mist gather around you. Let it soften the edges of thought. Let it carry away the names of things. Let it carry away the need to understand.

There is only the sound of water, the beat of your heart, and the rising of breath and wave.

Shift

Now, imagine another presence. Not far off, you hear the quiet voice of Manannán mac Lir. You cannot see him, but you feel the words rise like wind behind your shoulders.

“You see only waves. But I see a plain of flowers. The sea is in bloom.”

Let the words settle in your mind like seeds.

Inhale deeply.

And now, imagine the waves parting, not as crashing water, but as tall grasses swaying. Petals unfurling. A field of wildflowers stretching in every direction, as far as you can see.

What was ocean is now a plain. What was mystery is now beauty.

Let yourself walk across it in your mind. The boat becomes a cradle of earth beneath your feet. You are grounded in wonder. Surrounded by color, scent, and breeze.

This is the deeper truth, revealed not by understanding, but by letting go.

Reflection

Ask yourself:

• What waves in my life are hiding the flowering field beneath them?

• What surface illusions am I ready to release?

• Can I surrender to mystery, not to be lost in it, but to bloom within it?

Breathe in the scent of the sea-flowers.

Breathe out everything that no longer serves you.

Return

Slowly, let the flowers fade back into mist. Let the mist become sky and sea once more. Let the boat return beneath you. Let your awareness return to your body.

You are still in the sea of unknowing, but now you know there are blossoms beneath the surface. You carry that knowing with you.

Take a breath.

Wiggle your fingers.

Open your eyes.

Closing Blessing

Holy One of the depths,
you who stir the unseen waters,
who walk the mists with silent grace,
thank you for guiding us across the threshold of the unknown.

We have entered your sea of unknowing,
not to escape the world,
but to embrace it more deeply,
to see through its surface into the mystery beneath.

Help us remember:

That stillness is not idleness.
That silence is not emptiness.
That surrender is not defeat.

May we carry the flowering field within us,
even when the waves rise high.

May we listen to the voice of intuition,
even when words fall away.

May we trust what we cannot yet see,
and give thanks for all that is becoming.

As we return from this sacred drifting,
anchor us in peace,
root us in wisdom,
and send us forth with eyes that see beyond.

So be it.
And may the tide bless our way.

Invocation

O Danu, Mother of Earth and Flow,
you who birth rivers and raise mountains,
be near to me in this stillness.

I come not in conquest but in consent,
ready to root myself in your wisdom
and remember what the world has always known:
that I belong, body and soul, to this sacred ground.

As the Buddha once placed hand to earth
and asked no witness but the living world,
so too do I reach, not for proof,
but for presence.

Let the soil speak.
Let the stones remember.
Let the pulse of your deep waters rise in me
until I too become a vessel of peace.

Amen.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the third quarter moon rises, opening the middle way between light and darkness. May we feel the call to awe, to cosmic hospitality, to the art of savor, and to the kin-dom of God here and now. In the sacred light of the Third Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Positiva: the way of wonder, the dance of delight, courage to speak the living Word of God into form. Our souls ache for blessing and community as we gather to taste the sweetness of life and share the joy with each other.

This is a moon to awaken, to bless, to behold.

Theme: The Voice of Earth

When we think of the earth, we think of Mother Danu, that mysterious figure who may have been the mother goddess of the Irish gods. Sometimes her name is preserved as Anu. She appears only a few times in the lore we have, and she seems to be connected to the idea of flow and energy. When I think of the earth, I think of that great telluric flow, that energy rising up from the ground, giving fecundity to the fields and allowing plants to grow and blossom.

Now, as we enter the fall-winter season, we see the earth reclaiming that life. The energy goes inward as the trees and plants become dormant. We too enter a kind of coziness for the winter, preparing to endure the dark nights ahead. Yet this energy is always available to us. We only need to sink our taproots deeper to draw it up when we need it.

With all the fear and doom spread by those hungry for power, it’s wonderful for us to take this time to center on the glorious, calming presence of the earth. She is always with us. She has survived cataclysms and upheavals, and she will be here long after we are gone. In learning from her and taking care of her, we enter into a flow that rejuvenates and renews the world.

Let us practice this: if you can, get your hands dirty—touch the earth. If you can’t physically do that, remember the Buddha when challenged about his own authority: he simply touched the earth and said the earth would testify for him. We too can let the earth testify for us, sinking our roots in spirit and drawing up that solid stability. The earth outlasts every petty claim to power and every wave of greed. She will sustain us as long as we align with her, and we will find strength in that. The earth will cry out, and we will be victorious in the end.

Practice: Earth Touch Meditation: Rooted in Danu, Witnessed by the Earth

Opening the Space

Sit or stand comfortably. If you can, be close to the ground, outside on soil or near a plant. If you’re indoors or unable to reach the earth, simply bring your awareness downward, toward the ground beneath you.

Let your eyes soften or close. Take three deep breaths, each one slower than the last.

Invocation

Whisper softly:

“Mother Danu, flowing one, deep earth and fertile ground,
I open myself to your wisdom.
May your presence rise within me as I reach for your sacred body.”

Begin the Gesture

Slowly extend your hand, physically or in your mind’s eye, and touch the earth.

As your fingers meet the soil, carpet, floor, or simply the imagined ground of the world, say:

“I touch the earth,
and the earth will testify on my behalf.”

Let these words echo the story of the Buddha. When challenged by illusion and fear, he touched the earth, not to prove himself with force or pride, but to let the world bear witness to the truth of his being.

Attunement

Feel that you are held. Not judged. Not weighed. But known.

Imagine that beneath your hand, Danu flows, not just as ground, but as energy. A living river of memory and presence moves under the surface. You are not apart from this flow. You are part of it.

Let it rise through your palm. Let it enter your heart. Let it fill your body with the deep steadiness of stone, the fecundity of soil, the wisdom of all who have walked before.

Say silently or aloud:

“I belong to the earth,
and the earth belongs to me.
I am not alone in this world.”

Rooting Visualization

Imagine taproots descending from your body. They move through soil, stone, and shadow until they touch the ancient flow of Danu, the undercurrent of all becoming.

Let her energy rise up into you: not loud, not blazing, but steady. Quiet. Present.

Let her remind you:
That mountains crumble, yet earth endures.
That nothing is final, and nothing is wasted.
That you are enough, as you are.

Closing

Rest in that knowing. When you’re ready, bring your hand back to your heart.

Say:

“Mother of Flow, Mother of Depth,
Root me in your presence.
May I carry your peace into the world.”

Take one final breath, deep into your belly. Let it go slowly.

Open your eyes.

Closing Blessing

O Holy Presence,
Root of Being,
Anchor of all that endures.

We thank you for the gift of the earth beneath our feet,
for the strength that rises unseen from deep within the soil,
and for the quiet assurance that we belong.

May we go forth grounded in gratitude,
rooted in resilience,
and steady in our care for this sacred world.

Let our lives be as fertile fields,
open to the flow of grace,
nurtured by wisdom,
and fruitful in love.

So may it be.

Invocation

Holy Presence, Breath between the worlds,
we stand in the turning of the year where light and shadow meet.
As the veil thins between what is and what may be,
open our hearts to the sacred work of transformation.

Spirit of the Living Fire,
burn away all that keeps us bound to fear and forgetfulness.
Teach us to walk the Via Transformativa with courage and consent,
to let what is ready to die become soil for what must live.

Ancestors of blood, milk, and land,
be near us in this hour of crossing.
Remind us of the goodness woven into all creation,
and guide us as we become co-creators in the Great Unfolding.

May the Awen flow through us like holy light,
rekindling wisdom, compassion, and resolve.
In this thinning of the veil,
let us not merely witness the mystery,
but become it.

Amen.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the Hunter’s Moon rises full, pulling tides and truths alike to the surface. May we feel the call to justice, to transformation, to healing, and to celebration. In this sacred brightness of the Full Moon, we walk the path of the Via Transformativa: the way of change, the march of justice, track of living love into form. The world aches for healing, and transformation begins not just in systems, but in souls.

This is a moon to act, to bless, to become.

Theme: Through the Veil Toward Renewal

Samhain (Halloween) is more than just spooky season. Samhain is that time of year when the veil thins and the other crowd and the ancestors come to us. It is also a time when we ourselves are opened to the liminal powers of the cosmos. It is a time when we stop and reflect on what came before us and what is to come. In that reflection, we open ourselves to the ability to change. We humbly accept the lessons of the past, learning from the successes and failures of what has come before us, and consent to the changes that are necessary to build the great world to come that we seek in the great restoration of this world to the perfection beyond the goodness in which it was made.

In the folktales and legends, many enter the other world through crossing a fog or going over a hill, maybe even crossing a stream. It might be helpful for us to imagine that we are entering a dense fog. In our lives, we meet many of these fogs or streams or hills. Sometimes they’re hard to climb or difficult to see through. Sometimes they require sacrifice and challenge to swim to the other side. As we’re dealing with the problems of our lives today, Allowing ourselves to think metaphorically so that we are analogizing the experiences that we’re having to these streams, or valleys, or mountains, or fogs helps us to see our way forward and our way through so that we can get to where we are needing to go.

It is through the metaphor that we learn how to take action. If we are entering a dense fog, then we need to find solid, clear anchor points to guide our progress through. If it is a hill that needs to be climbed, then we need to develop the resilience necessary to get up to the top. If it is a stream that needs to be forded, we need to have the strength to embrace the cold water as it hits our legs, and the strength to push against the current driving us further downstream when all we need to do is cross. It’s through the metaphor that we find that works for the condition that we’re experiencing in our lives that we understand how it is we are to push forward.

At Samhain, the work of transformation is not passive. The veil does not thin for us to merely gaze into mystery, but to step into it. The fog before us is not a wall; it is an invitation. When we cross its threshold, we are changed. We don’t succumb or submit to power or force, but embrace our courage and consent to be better, stronger, and healing. Take this moment as your crossing. Let what is old within you rest with the ancestors and let what is new rise in its place. The sacred fire burns at the gate of this season, calling you to live as one who has seen through the veil and returned bearing light.

We are salt and light, co-creators in the great unfolding, preserving the wisdom of the Via Positiva and Via Negativa, and illuminating the path of the Via Creativa and Via Transformativa. As salt, we preserve what needs to be kept, and as light, we guide the way to a better path. Step forward. The world is waiting for your transformed self.

Practice: The Threshold Prayer

This prayer may be said by an individual or a group. If said as individuals, please continue to say the word “we,” remembering that you speak for yourself, your ancestors, and all of those guides, guardians and gods who surround you and aid in your practice constantly.

Reader: The veil grows thin between what is and what may be.
All: We stand at the threshold, hearts open to the transforming fire of Love.

Reader: The ancestors whisper through the mists, calling us to remembrance.
All: We honor the wisdom of the past, preserving what is good and true.

Reader: The fog before us is not a wall but an invitation.
All: We consent to the Holy Work of change, that life may be renewed through us.

Reader: The fire at the gate of the year burns with sacred purpose.
All: May its flame refine our courage and illuminate our path.

Reader: As salt, we preserve the wisdom of the earth; as light, we guide the way of becoming.
All: Creator of all worlds, remake us in the image of your living compassion.

Reader: Holy Presence, Flame of Transformation, Breath between the worlds-
All: Kindle in us the courage to cross, the humility to be changed, and the strength to become healers of this world.

(Pause for silent reflection or the ringing of a bell.)

All: May the fire of Samhain burn in our hearts, the wisdom of the ancestors steady our steps, and the Spirit of Creation guide us into the Great Unfolding. Amen.

Closing Blessing

May the Holy Presence, who breathes through the veil,
awaken us to the sacred fire within and around us.
May the ancestors walk beside us,
their wisdom whispering courage into our hearts.

May the fog before us become revelation,
the hill our ascent into strength,
and the stream our baptism into new life.
May the fire at the gate of this season
purify what must pass
and kindle what must begin.

Go now as salt and light:
preserving what is good, illuminating what is possible.
Walk the Via Transformativa with steady heart and open hands.
And as we cross each threshold,
may we find the world transformed by our becoming,
and ourselves remade in the image of Love.

Amen.

Invocation

Holy Presence,
You who dream galaxies into being
and breathe life into dust,
open the eyes of my heart.

Awaken in me the Seeing Heart,
the imagination that is both mirror and flame,
revealing the world as You see it:
alive, luminous, and filled with Spirit.

Let this act of imagining be a sacrament,
a prayer of participation in Your fullness.
May every image I receive,
every vision that stirs within,
be an echo of Your eternal creativity.

Silence the noise of fear and reason’s tyranny.
Teach me to listen with wonder.
Let my mind be the chalice,
my breath the incense,
my imagination the altar of communion
where heaven and earth meet in me.

May I see truly.
May I love freely.
May I create from the well of Your holy light.

Amen.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the first quarter moon cuts a bold curve through the night, a bright edge of becoming against the sky. May we feel the call to create, to explore, to dance with the holy spark that stirs within us. In the generative tension of the First Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Creativa: the way of inspiration, of sacred imagination, of shaping what has never been before. Our souls reach not for certainty, but for expression: for the joy of making, of playing, of sketching the unseen into form.

This is a moon to imagine, to risk, to begin.

Theme: The Seeing Heart

As the light of the sun creeps over the face of the moon and we see the First Quarter Moon hanging in the sky, it’s as if a door is opening, showing us a gleam of light from the other side. This image is powerful, especially as we approach the rise of Samhain (All Hallows’ Eve, Halloween) the time when the veil between our world and the spirit world grows thin. Ancestors and the Other Crowd come through vigorously, and the very fabric of our cosmic order seems to shift. This is a time of revelation, imagination, and openness. As we enter this holy threshold, we must awaken our imagination so we are ready to experience all the cosmos has to offer.

When I speak of imagination, I’m not talking about make-believe in the childlike sense. Imagination is how we perceive the world, how we stitch together past, present, and future. It’s how we fill in the gaps of what our senses can’t fully capture. As we approach Samhain, we recognize that this gift of imagination is also how we encounter spirit. It’s a sacred tool.

William Blake called imagination the Divine Vision, the Holy Imagination. For Blake, the Word, the Logos, and the divine imagination were the same. He wasn’t bound by reason because reason can be applied to anything, allowing us to justify our actions. Therefore, he opted to rely more on imagination, recognizing that the creative impulse within us is under our control and can be molded to ensure our actions benefit the greater good, preventing us from pretending our urges, desires, and anger guide us to truth. It’s in this pursuit of holy wisdom that we are awakened to life. As we begin to practice this holy time of the threshold thinning we know that this is a metaphor for an experience that is had throughout the world. We prepare our imagination to enter into this holy state so that we can become one with our minds and experience this world for all that it has to offer.

So as we approach Samhain, I invite you to liberate yourself and allow yourself to daydream. Know that you are in control of that daydream. Let your imagination open you to the wisdom and guidance that the cosmos offers. If you choose to see the world through the lens of light and hope, you’ll find that goodness reflected back to you. This isn’t about being naïve; it’s about making a conscious choice to seek out the sacred, to let imagination be the bridge to deeper spiritual truths.

In this time, like we do approaching Beltane, know that it is your choice to see the world as it is. If you choose to see the world as darkness and trauma and pain, then you will find all the data points you need to make the world dark and full of suffering. But if you look, truly look, for the goodness and the light and the hope, you will find it. This isn’t about being an optimist or a pessimist. These are internal orientations that guide our thinking and how we perceive. No, this is about making the active choice to seek and to find that which is good, that which is necessary, that which needs to be followed and done. As the forces of darkness wage their war against us to instill fear within us so that we bow in obedience to them, we know they are silly, frightened children. And in seeing them as they are, they cannot scare us. Because we know that in the end, all tyranny falls, all darkness is broken by the first rays of the rising sun. In the end, all shall be well and all shall be peace. It may take time to get there, but we will all find that place one day where the sun always shines and no shadow is cast.

In the end, all fear and darkness fall away in the face of the rising sun. As we nurture the seeing heart, we find peace. It may take time, but we will reach that place where light shines and no shadow is cast.

Practice: Imagination as Communion

Sit in a quiet place where the light is gentle. Let your body rest, your breath settle. This is not an escape from the world, but a returning to it with awakened sight.

Close your eyes.

Imagine the light of the First Quarter Moon, the threshold light, falling softly across your face. The light is neither full nor dark; it is becoming. It is the moment between what was and what is not yet.

Breathe in that becoming.

With every breath, feel yourself expand. With every exhale, release the smallness of certainty and control. You are entering the sacrament of Holy Imagination, the blessed communion between your mind, your soul, and the Living Cosmos.

Now, within this gentle stillness, sense a presence stirring in the quiet behind your eyes.

This is the Cosmic Christ, the Divine Imagination, the light that sees through all forms and calls them good.

Let that light open your inner sight. It does not flash or blind; it simply reveals. Through this sight, you begin to perceive the shimmering life within all things:

• the hum of the ancestors,

• the pulse of the soil,

• the luminous thread that binds every spirit and star.

Here, in the fullness of God, you are not a bystander but a participant. Imagination is how creation recognizes itself within you. Imagination is communion. It is not fantasy, but the language of reality made holy.

Let your awareness widen. See not with your eyes, but with your heart.

Allow images, sensations, memories, or symbols to arise, not as distractions, but as emissaries of the Real. Each one is a whisper from the Beloved, a facet of the Infinite seeking expression.

If fear or doubt appears, greet it gently and let it dissolve into light. For in the Holy Imagination, nothing is lost; all is transformed.

Now, rest in the fullness that surrounds and indwells you. You are in communion with the Eternal Artist, whose creation is ever unfolding within you.

When you are ready, take a deep breath. Feel your feet, your hands, your body once more. Let your eyes open. And as they do, know that the same light that opened your inner sight now illuminates the world before you.

Carry this seeing heart into your day. Let imagination be your prayer, and communion your way of being.

Closing Blessing

Radiant One,
Source of all vision and all becoming,
thank You for this holy meeting.

Through the eyes of imagination,
I have seen the world anew,
each breath a spark of Your presence,
each shadow touched by Your hidden light.

Let what was awakened here
take root in the living world.
May the clarity of this seeing heart
guide my hands to create,
my words to bless,
my actions to heal.

As I return to the rhythm of my day,
keep this communion alive within me.
Let the sacred fire of imagination
burn steady and true,
so that in every act of love,
every glimpse of beauty,
I may remember:
I am part of Your great unfolding.

In gratitude and peace,
I open my eyes,
and behold the world,
shining, whole, and holy.

Amen.

Invocation

Holy Mystery,
You who dwell in silence deeper than words,
in the breath between stars
and the pause before dawn,
We come to you now in the veil of this dark moon.

Not to banish the shadows,
but to rest within them.
Not to demand answers,
but to open my soul to wonder.

Spirit of the Hidden One,
Shekhinah who hovers in the cloud,
guide us through the questions we cannot name.
Let us feel the presence of the ancestors who walk unseen.
Let us learn from the land, from memory, from stillness.

May I release the need to control or define.
May I find peace not in certainty,
but in the sacred rhythm of not-knowing.

This is the path of faith beyond sight.
This is the threshold of the holy dark.
We enter with reverence,
and we open ourselves to be transformed.

Amen.
So may it be.
Let it begin.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the new moon veils the sky, cloaking the heavens in silence and shadow. May we feel the call to surrender, to sacred unknowing, to the holy hush that dwells beneath words. In the deep darkness of the New Moon, we walk the path of the Via Negativa: the way of release, of letting fall what no longer serves, of listening for the presence hidden in absence. Our souls ache not for answers, but for peace within the questions, for a love that meets us in the void.

This is a moon to release, to empty, to rest.

Theme: Opening to Darkness

As we approach the month of Samhain, which we celebrate from November 1st to 3rd, we open into the traditional Irish New Year, the spiritual New Year. This is a time to enter the season of deep mystery, where certainty melts away and we live in the questions that may never be answered. We are not just turning a page on a calendar that was shaped by secular or economic aspirations. We orient ourselves to the earth’s rhythm, to the seasonal pulse of life, and to the spiritual reality that the new moon brings.

It is so important for us to have a calendar for our spiritual and personal journey that is separate from the one we use for mundane daily tasks. Why? It is harder for us to confuse our spirit work of living God with our political and social life like the Christian Nationalist do. It encourages us to practice the both/and thinking we need to thrive in this world. November 1st is both the beginning of the New Year and the first day of the Eleventh Month of the secular calendar. It is also the second of three New Years we see every year following Rosh HaShanah. In fact their are four new years, every year in Torah and Mishnah. We might even count the Lunar New Year and many others. All of these open us up and encourage us to let go of either/or thinking and embrace both/and thinking.

Every new moon, we embrace the Via Negativa as an invitation into mystery. We let go not only in suffering, but in releasing our attachment to certainty. We let go of the need to fully grasp or understand everything as we step into the cloud of unknowing. In life, if we wait for certainty we will either delude ourselves into a false sense of security, or we will procrastinate forever because that certainty never comes. The more we learn to embrace this cloud of unknowing, the more we embrace the gray areas of life. Life is and will always be filled with mystery.

The new moon, or Rosh Chodesh, marks the beginning of a new cycle, a sacred opening into the unknown, where the light is hidden and we are invited to walk by a different kind of illumination. We call on the Shekhinah to shelter us and guide us in the month to come. This is another time for both/and thinking. The new moon is the start of the spiritual month, even though it is rarely on the first of the secular month.

Unlike the Wiccan practice of calling down the moon when it is full, here at the dark moon we open up to the moon’s hidden face. This is not the darkness that tries to overcome the light, but a darkness that shrouds our understanding, inviting us into a space where the voices of our ancestors whisper, and the presence of the spirits, the good neighbors, and the fae are felt. We walk carefully, knowing that some are tricksters, and we let go of certainty to find our path not by holding onto what we know, but by embracing what we do not.

Whether or not we individually believe our ancestors or the spirits can talk to us, we let ourselves know they have so much to teach us. We might learn from the stories and traditions passed down to us, or the intuitive encounters with them in prayer, meditation, and journeying. We connect with our ancestors of blood, milk, and land, and honor them for the gifts they have given us while learning from their mistakes so we don’t repeat them. We study these lessons in the cloud of unknowing, because we will never have certainty about the path we walk, only that we can put one foot after the other.

A fitting practice for this devotional could be something like a silent meditation or a candle ritual in the darkness. Instead of drawing down the moon’s light, we sit with the unseen, welcoming the mystery, lighting a single candle not to banish the darkness but to honor it. We acknowledge that the intricate beauty of the cosmos is beyond full comprehension and that in this darkness, we find a different kind of wisdom.

Practice: Candle in the Cloud

Materials:

• A single candle

• Fireproof surface

• Journal or voice recorder (optional)

• Comfortable place to sit in darkness or dim light

1. Prepare the Space

Turn off lights, electronics, and distractions. Sit comfortably in the dim or total darkness, allowing your eyes to adjust. Place the unlit candle before you. Breathe deeply and slowly for a few minutes to ground yourself.

Speak aloud or silently:

2. Light the Candle

As you light the candle, say:

Keep your gaze soft. Let the flicker of the flame guide your thoughts, not focus them. You’re not here to think, you’re here to be with mystery.

3. Sit with the Unknowing

Let questions rise: not for answers, but as offerings. Welcome whatever thoughts, images, or emotions surface. If nothing comes, simply rest in the quiet. When doubts, fears, or longing appear, greet them with compassion and say:

4. Bless the Path Forward

When ready, gently speak this blessing aloud:

5. Close the Practice

Extinguish the candle slowly. Watch the smoke curl into the air like a prayer.

If you keep a journal, write down any images, feelings, or questions that came to you.

If not, simply whisper:

Optional Weekly Practice:

Do a version of this a set day of the week that works best for you to cultivate deeper comfort with uncertainty and develop your relationship with mystery, the ancestors, and the Holy Spirit of the unseeable. Over time, notice what begins to grow in the fertile dark.

Closing Blessing

Spirit of the Deep,
We have sat in the stillness,
listened in the silence,
and touched the edge of the unseen.

Though we did not ask for answers,
you gave us presence.
Though we could not see the path ahead,
you taught us how to walk in the dark.

Thank you for the company of mystery,
for the whisper of ancestors,
for the hush of the new moon.

As we return to the world of doing,
let us carry this holy pause within us.
Let us walk gently with unknowing,
and meet the coming days with trust,
not in what we understand,
but in what we are becoming.

We leave this sacred space,
but not your presence.
Guide our steps.
Guard our spirits.
And keep our hearts open
to the wisdom hidden in the dark.

Amen.
So may it be.
Let it continue.

Invocation

Holy One, Breath of All Life,
as the days shorten and the veil grows thin,
we turn our hearts toward the radiant mystery
that pulses through every leaf and living thing.

We give thanks for the great communion of being:
for the ancestors of blood,
whose bodies became the bridge by which we entered this world;
for the ancestors of spirit,
whose wisdom nourished our minds and souls;
and for the ancestors of land,
whose hands shaped the soil beneath our feet
and whose memory whispers through the wind and water.

Let us behold them now not in fear,
but in wonder and gratitude.
Teach us to see death as transformation,
and remembrance as praise.
May the light that shone through their lives
flow through us in this moment
a living river of blessing,
a song of joy still being sung.

Amen.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the third quarter moon rises, opening the middle way between light and darkness. May we feel the call to awe, to cosmic hospitality, to the art of savor, and to the kin-dom of God here and now. In the sacred light of the Third Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Positiva: the way of wonder, the dance of delight, courage to speak the living Word of God into form. Our souls ache for blessing and community as we gather to taste the sweetness of life and share the joy with each other.

This is a moon to awaken, to bless, to behold.

Theme:

As we enter the season of Halloween, Samhain, and the long descent into winter, the air itself seems to shimmer with memory. The veil between our world and the other world thins. The trees bare their bones to the wind. Shadows lengthen earlier each evening, inviting us to turn inward, to listen. This is the time when our minds drift naturally toward thoughts of our own mortality, and that of those we have loved and lost.

At this threshold, two temptations arise. The first is aversion: the fear of our own death and the anxiety of what we will leave behind. The second is attachment: the grief that grips us in the absence of those who have gone before. Yet the Via Positiva—the way of awe and delight whispers a gentler invitation. It asks us not to flee from these truths or drown in them, but to behold them with wonder. The thinning veil is not a warning; it is a doorway. It opens so that we may rejoice in the sacred stream of life that flows through our ancestors: the ancestors of the bloodline, the milk line, and the land line.

The Via Positiva: Awe as Our Path Through Mystery

The Via Positiva teaches that all of existence, even death, is radiant with divine presence. To meet life and death with awe and delight is to see creation not as a cycle of endings, but as a continuous unfolding of sacred becoming. The falling leaf does not mourn the branch, it returns to the soil that will one day nourish the tree again.

When we contemplate our ancestors through this lens, we see not ghosts of the past, but living facets of the One Life that animates us now. They are not gone; they have transformed. Their love, their courage, their craft still pulse within the world and within us. To rejoice in them is to say yes to life itself.

Three Currents of Ancestry: Blood, Milk, and Land

Our connections to the ancestors flow through three sacred rivers.

The Blood Line carries the stories of endurance written into our very bodies. Each heartbeat is a drum echoing through generations. Every cell holds the wisdom of survival and the gift of being. We are, quite literally, made of those who came before.

The Milk Line nourishes our minds and spirits. It is composed of all who have fed our souls our parents and teachers, artists and mystics, the poets who gave us words when we had none, the mentors who saw something holy in us before we could see it ourselves. They may not share our blood, but they have shaped our becoming as surely as any ancestor.

The Land Line binds us to the earth and to the peoples who lived upon it before us. The soil remembers. The wind carries whispers of those who hunted, planted, built, and prayed here long before our time. To walk gently upon this ground is to walk among their stories, to inherit both the gift and the responsibility of belonging.

Each of these currents converges in us, forming the river of life that carries us forward.

Transformation of Fear into Gratitude

Too often we inherit a faith of fear: fear of death, fear of judgment, fear of what our ancestors did or left undone. The Via Positiva calls us to transform that fear into gratitude. We bless the gifts our ancestors gave without glorifying their harms. We hold their lessons close, even when they come wrapped in pain.

When gratitude replaces guilt, communion with our ancestors becomes joyful participation in the ongoing creation of life. They worked, struggled, loved, and dreamed so that we might exist and now we, too, shape the world for those who will follow. To honor them is also to reflect on how we might become ancestors worth remembering.

Living as a Note in the Great Song

Each of us carries the melody forward. We are both the fruit and the seed. To live in wonder is to honor those who sang before us. Our acts of creativity, compassion, and courage extend their song into the future.

Think of your life as one verse in an eternal hymn that began long before you were born and continuing long after you are gone. You are part of that harmony. Your words, your art, your love are not fleeting they echo in the lives you touch, becoming part of the world’s ongoing symphony of becoming.

The Practice of Gratitude: Communion in the Flow of Love

Gratitude is not a polite gesture, it is a sacred act. It is the recognition that we are participants in a vast dance of giving and receiving. When we give thanks for those who came before, we join hands with creation itself.

Take a moment, wherever you are, to breathe and whisper thanks to your ancestors of blood, of spirit, and of place. Let gratitude flow through you like light through stained glass, each color a facet of the love that shaped you.

Gratitude unites past, present, and future in one continuous flow of love. In that flow, death loses its sting, and life becomes radiant again. To remember with joy, to honor with wonder, this is our true communion.

Practice: The Flow of Gratitude

Find a quiet place where you can sit comfortably. If possible, let yourself be near a window or somewhere you can feel the light.

Take a few slow, steady breaths. Feel the air entering and leaving your body the same breath that moved through your ancestors, the same breath that stirs the trees and tides.

When your breathing settles, imagine a soft light glowing at the center of your chest. With every inhale, that light brightens; with every exhale, it expands outward.

Now, let that light become the color of gratitude: warm, radiant, and alive.

Begin by whispering thanks to your ancestors of blood, those whose bodies and courage brought you into being. See their faces, or feel their presence as a current of strength in your bones.
Inhale—receive their blessing.
Exhale—offer them your love.

Next, turn your heart toward your ancestors of milk, those who have nourished you through wisdom, art, friendship, and teaching. Remember a voice that still echoes in you, a story that changed you, a kindness that shaped your soul.
Inhale—receive their inspiration.
Exhale—offer them your gratitude.

Now, reach your awareness into the ancestors of the land: the soil beneath your feet, the rivers that have always run, the peoples who tended and blessed this place before you. Feel the steadiness of earth beneath your body, the heartbeat of the land echoing in your own.
Inhale—receive the grounding of the earth.
Exhale—offer your reverence.

Let all three streams: blood, milk, and land flow together within you. The light in your chest shimmers like stained glass, each color a facet of the love that shaped you.

Rest here for several breaths, allowing gratitude to circulate through your body like light through water.

When you are ready, whisper:

“I am the living gratitude of my ancestors.
May the light that flowed through them
shine through me into the world.”

Sit a moment longer, feeling the warmth of that truth. Then, return gently to the present moment, carrying that glow with you as quiet joy.

Closing Blessing: The Light That Flows Through Us

May the breath of the One Life weave through you,
the same breath that stirred the first dawn
and still moves through leaf and flame and star.

May your ancestors walk beside you,
those of blood who shaped your form,
those of milk who kindled your mind,
and those of land who rooted you in holy ground.

May their wisdom whisper through your choices,
their laughter echo in your joy,
and their courage steady your hands
for the work yet to be done.

Let gratitude be the song that guides your days,
turning remembrance into light.
And as you live, may others glimpse through you
the beauty of the stream that carried you here
a river of blessing that knows no end.

Go forth in wonder,
for you are the living prayer
of all who have ever loved.

Amen.

Invocation

Holy One of the hidden flame,
You who dwell in the cloud of unknowing,
You who ripen seeds beneath the soil and stir galaxies in the night,
Be with us beneath this Harvest Moon.

We bring the ache of what we’ve lost,
the laughter of sweet memory’s joy,
the love and justice we long to see restored.
Receive them, O Spirit, as offerings of memory and hope.

Teach us to trust the darkness,
to honor what is composting in our souls,
to believe that what breaks down may yet give birth to wonder.

Kindle in us the courage to laugh in the face of fear,
to stand unafraid in the shadow,
to gather one another into the shelter of your love.

May this night’s light remind us:
Transformation is not a flight from the dark,
but the holy work that happens within it.

Amen.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the Harvest Moon rises full, pulling tides and truths alike to the surface. May we feel the call to justice, to transformation, to healing, and to celebration. In this sacred brightness of the Full Moon, we walk the path of the Via Transformativa: the way of change, the march of justice, track of living love into form. The world aches for healing, and transformation begins not just in systems, but in souls.

This is a moon to act, to bless, to become.

Theme: Transformation in Darkness

When I think of the Harvest Moon, it reminds me of thanksgiving: times when I sat around the table with my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother in the late autumn heat breaking green beans to can for the winter. I remember the smell of hot metal and evaporating water on the stove, and the laughter as stories of our ancestors were shared. That memory roots me, even now. It brings a bittersweet ache because I miss it. I don’t really have that in my life anymore.

This year, more than many others, that desire to celebrate is absent, lost. The harvest is coming in, but we also see this dark tide rising of fascism and control. We see people trying to threaten their neighbors and deport those that they do not want to be in this country. The law of Christ is being broken in his very name, and it hurts my soul.

As we are dedicating this Harvest Moon to the celebration and commemoration of the Via Transformativa, I can’t help but wonder what harvest is on the way. How do we bring back that justice, those blessings, that enchantment that we once had? How do we bring unity to a people so divided? How do we bring hope when all feels hopeless and lost? These are the things we most need to gather, and these are the things that feel most lost. These are the core to the Via Transformativa, where we celebrate justice, which is hard to do when we see it so sparingly.

As we see those who do not care about justice flaunt their insecurities as strengths before us, we remember the trials that have come to those who have gone before us and conquered such threats, through making it unimaginable to be aligned with such horror, to making it impossible for them to operate in any nation or any international field. We know we have stood up in the past, and we know we can stand up again. That justice is always alive within us, yearning to break forth.

In this devotional, as we dedicate this Harvest Moon to transformation in darkness, we remember our souls are indeed formed in dark places. The psalmist tells us that God draws a cloud of darkness around himself. In that great cloud of unknowing, we do not always have easy answers. Yet the justice we seek is always with us, even if it seems hidden. Justice can be violated, but it can never be utterly destroyed. As long as we keep that hope alive, the flame alive, we can rebuild what has been broken.

The tool of those who spread fear is to make us feel small and alone, but we remember that there are always more seeking freedom than those who seek control. We laugh at fear, not because it is trivial, but because laughter is a weapon of the light. We tell the stories that make us remember we are not afraid. We show that those who try to control through fear are like children playing dress-up, their illusions melting away in the light of dawn.

We are the children of the light. We stand in the darkness not in fear, but knowing that the One Life works through us to do wonders. We stand against anything that rises against the truth, knowing that no weapon formed against us shall prosper. We are here to take care of each other, to honor the stranger, and to be the hands and hearts of the Most High in this world.

Now, under this harvest moon, we need the voice of the Prophet to remind us that the work is doable because it has been done. It has been done a thousand times before, and it will be done a thousand times again, until in some miraculous age in the world to come, we do not need this work anymore because we have conquered fear, uncertainty, and doubt. We have conquered those things that cause the enemy to rise and believe that they are greater, stronger, more powerful than others. In that day, in those times, we will have freedom and liberation. But until then, we struggle on in this present age, ever striving for the world to come.

We do not live in a world of easy answers. We desperately desire them, regardless of our strong desires and the longing in our hearts. The easy answers are not always present, but we know that the justice that we seek is always with us.

Justice cannot be taken, it can only be violated. It can be broken, it can be harmed, but there is not a weapon in the world capable of shattering it to where it cannot be built again. As long as we keep that hope alive, that flame alive, we have the chance for justice to return with more fervor and strength than we ever imagined possible.

So I ask you, my dear siblings, to find ways to laugh, to celebrate, to show that we are not afraid. Let this Harvest Moon be a time of gathering not just the fruits of the earth, but the fruits of memory and joy. Laugh together, tell the old stories, and mock the powers that pretend to be strong by showing how weak they truly are.

In doing this, we transform the darkness. We become the light that no night can overcome, and we prepare for the dawn of a world remade in justice and love.

Practice: The Harvest Within the Dark

Setting the space:

If possible, sit where moonlight can touch you. If not, light a single candle. This is your reminder that the smallest flame transforms darkness. Place beside it something that symbolizes harvest for you: a fruit, a jar of grain, a family heirloom, or even a memory written on paper.

Begin with breath:

Breathe in slowly, feeling the cool air of the season entering your lungs.
Breathe out, releasing what no longer serves the harvest of your soul.
Do this until your body settles and the mind grows still.

Invocation of memory:

Picture a moment of belonging: a kitchen, a laugh, a story. Let yourself feel both the gratitude and the ache. Whisper:

Contemplation in darkness:

Close your eyes and imagine yourself beneath the soil, like a seed. Around you, the earth is dark and alive. Something within you, an old wound, a hidden hope, is transforming.

Ask silently:

Wait for whatever image or word rises. Don’t force it; the earth reveals things in its own time.

Reawakening the light:

Now, open your eyes and gaze at the candle or the moon. Feel the flame reflect inside you. Say aloud:

Act of offering:

Commit to one small, concrete act that resists fear and nurtures joy: call a friend, feed a neighbor, tell a story, or simply laugh. This is your sacred harvest, your transformation made visible.

Closing:

End with gratitude.

Closing Blessing

Radiant One,
Keeper of every harvest and every dawn,
we have sat beneath your moon and remembered what was,
we have named the wounds of this age,
and we have felt the quiet stirring of new life beneath the soil.

Take what we have gathered here,
our grief, our laughter, our longing for justice,
and weave it into your greater work of renewal.
Let the seeds we have planted in darkness
find warmth enough to rise again.

When fear whispers that the night is endless,
remind us that we are your lamps,
lit from the fire that no shadow can consume.
Send us forth to tend the world with tenderness and defiant joy,
until the morning breaks and all creation sings of love restored.

Amen.

Invocation

Holy One,
You who dwell in beginnings not yet ripened,
You who bless the fragment, the sketch, the seed,
Teach us to rest in what is half-formed.

In this first quarter light,
where shadow and radiance hold each other,
remind us that Your presence is not bound
to perfect endings or polished forms.

Bless the drafts, the pauses, the broken threads.
Bless the work that sparked joy but never came to completion.
Bless the seeds that sleep in us still,
waiting for their season to grow.

May we honor the unfinished as holy,
trusting that wholeness is not in finishing,
but in living, creating, and becoming
with You, now and always.

Amen.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the first quarter moon cuts a bold curve through the night, a bright edge of becoming against the sky. May we feel the call to create, to explore, to dance with the holy spark that stirs within us. In the generative tension of the First Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Creativa: the way of inspiration, of sacred imagination, of shaping what has never been before. Our souls reach not for certainty, but for expression: for the joy of making, of playing, of sketching the unseen into form.

This is a moon to imagine, to risk, to begin.

Theme: The Unfinished as Holy

We live in a productivity-poisoned age, where the idea of getting something done or finished is the end-all and be-all of any creative output, because creative output, creativity, is viewed as another form of work. When we think about creativity like that, we rob ourselves of the sheer joy of creation.

The crochet project isn’t rewarding because you finish. A painting isn’t rewarding because you finish. The story, the poem, whatever it is, isn’t rewarding because you finish. If we believe our lives need to have perfect beginnings, middles, and ends, so that they can live up to this false and damaging ideal. That’s not how life works. That’s not how creativity works.

The joy of creativity is in the Via Creativa itself. As we walk the path of creativity, the journey is about trusting our images enough to give birth to them, that means give birth to them in us. Sometimes we start writing a project because we need to hear the words, and they’re not ready to share yet. They need to grow up and to mature. They need to develop in us so that when they are ready, we can share them with others. That is just as valid as writing the whole thing in one sitting.

We have to normalize and become comfortable with this idea: creativity is something we are. It is something that we do. It is something that we are growing into. As we become more creative, as we allow ourselves to truly and thoroughly experience this process, we live the divine image within us. It is not something that we have to do, and it is not something that we have to finish. There is something beautiful and holy in the unfinished.

Many years ago, I started writing a book called Paradise Not For Me, which was inspired by a Madonna song of the same name. In fact, it was inspired by her performance of it on her Drowned World Tour. The imagery on stage inspired me and made me want to write this story. I started working on it. I got a couple chapters in, and it didn’t feel right, and I thought to myself, “Ooh, what if I started a little bit sooner.” So, I wrote the Liquid Sky books, all four of them. That inspired me to write all the Fate’s Harrow stories. It inspired more fiction and more fiction to where I created an entire universe of science fiction I love. I love spending my time in so much I just go and play in, constantly writing things in it.

That original story, that original image that was in my head, is just sitting unfinished. I pick it up from time to time, and wonder is it time to write this. I read through my outline, my notes, the chapters that I’ve written, and I get inspired to write something new. It was the seed I needed to create that universe. The seed that needed to be born in me was in there. It was just bringing it to me. It was the wrapping, the package that brought all this joy and wonder into my life. Without that original seed, I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am now, with over a million words written in this setting. I don’t know if I’ll ever write that original story. I’m okay with that, because what I needed from it was the impetus to get started. What I required was the imaginative break that it spawned in me, that allowed me to go on and make these wonderful things that I’ve done since. That is a holy process.

The unfinished wasn’t wasted. It was holy.

The great wisdom that we gain from spirituality, that we glean from all of the practices and the work that we do, is that our quest for the Divine, our quest for the Holy, will never be finished in our lifetime. The great work we do will never be finished in our lifetime, because perfection is something that cannot be achieved in a single human lifetime, and possibly not in all of the human lifetimes combined, and yet, we still strive for it. We still put the work in, because it is meaningful to us.

It is something we need, deep down inside us, to keep us going. It is the inspiration, the goal, and the path. When we have a project, or find creativity coming to its natural end, which may not be a finished state, it is no different from a meditation that sparks an insight so powerful within us, that we have to stop, and capture it. We have to write it down, journal it, and make sure that we remember what it is.

Because in this work that we are doing, and it is work, it is practice, we are entering the great cloud of unknowing. Anyone who has the arrogance to think that they know all the answers, is not doing the work properly, and they need to adjust their practice. The point of the work is not to find answers; it’s to find a way to keep going on. To find that better world, that will take us into the world to come, that will enlighten and enliven all people, and not just a few. As long as we continue to be about that work, then everything that we are doing is worthwhile.

The first quarter moon embodies this truth. It is neither new nor full, but half in shadow and half in light. It leans forward into becoming, showing us that holiness does not wait for a polished end. What is partial can still be sacred. What is half-shaped can still shine.

This is the Via Creativa: the holy mess of making, the courage to keep shaping even when the lines don’t all connect. Creativity is not a straight road but a pilgrimage of fragments. Some works remain incomplete because their gift is not the final form but the spark, they ignite in us.

Paradise nor for me gave me that spark. It never needed to be finished to matter. Its holiness was in the journey, the joy, the questions it opened.

So under this first quarter moon, may we bless the half-finished, the rough sketch, the broken draft, the song that trails off mid-verse. May we honor them as sacred teachers. For the unfinished reminds us that our lives, too, are always in process, never perfected, always holy in their becoming.

Practice: Blessing the Unfinished

Gather your fragments.

Bring to mind, or gather in front of you, something unfinished. It might be a half-written story, a crochet project stuffed in a drawer, a painting never carried past the sketch, or even an idea you never dared to begin. Let the piece sit before you as it is: incomplete, unresolved, and wholly itself.

Name the gift.

Speak aloud or write in a journal what this unfinished work has given you. Maybe it sparked a new direction, opened joy for a season, or taught you something about patience. Even if it looks small, honor the gift it carried.

Bless the seed.

Place your hand over the work (or over your heart, if it’s just in memory). Pray or say words like:

“The unfinished is not wasted. The unfinished is holy. May the seeds planted in me by this work continue to grow in their own time.”

Sit in the half-light.

If you can, do this practice by candlelight or under the first quarter moon. Let the half-lit, half-shadowed world remind you that wholeness does not require completion. Breathe into that truth until it feels like a blessing, not a burden.

Release and return.

When you are ready, return the work to its drawer, shelf, or notebook: not with shame, but with gratitude. You don’t need to finish it today or ever. Its holiness has already found you.

Closing Blessing

Spirit of Becoming,
You who meet us in what is half-shaped and half-seen,
we thank You for the holiness of the unfinished.

As this quarter moon leans forward into light,
teach us to lean forward as well;
not chasing perfection,
but trusting the seeds already planted within us.

Bless the drafts and fragments we carry,
the stories that may never find an ending,
the works that live only as sparks and beginnings.
Let us release the pressure to complete,
and embrace the sacred joy of creation itself.

Go with us now into our days and nights,
guiding our hands, our words, and our imaginations,
that we may honor every stage of becoming
as holy in Your sight.

Amen.

Invocation

Holy One,
You who dwell in the silence before all beginnings,
You who cradle galaxies in hidden wombs of night,
draw us now into your mystery.

As the moon veils her face,
teach us to rest in the fertile darkness,
to trust the breaking down and the remaking,
to welcome the shadow as your gentle work.

Strip away what is unhelpful and untrue.
Hold us in your silence until we are ready to emerge
more whole, more compassionate, more just.

Here, in the dark womb of creation,
we surrender, we wait, and we hope.
Amen.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the new moon veils the sky, cloaking the heavens in silence and shadow. May we feel the call to surrender, to sacred unknowing, to the holy hush that dwells beneath words. In the deep darkness of the New Moon, we walk the path of the Via Negativa: the way of release, of letting fall what no longer serves, of listening for the presence hidden in absence. Our souls ache not for answers, but for peace within the questions, for a love that meets us in the void.

This is a moon to release, to empty, to rest.

Theme: The Dark Womb of Creation

Sometimes, when we enter the dark cloud of unknowing, we are passing into the dark womb of creation. It is like entering a cocoon or chrysalis where we break down into our constituent parts. In these shadows, we reform into something new, something beautiful. The pain we feel, the anxiety, the worry, and the doubt are not obstacles to avoid but guideposts that help us find our way through this holy work.

The trouble is that as a species; we build our chrysalis within. We rarely invite it to come upon us, and often we don’t even realize it is happening until we are already surrounded by it. We enter this womb at times of change and crisis, not once but again and again. Whenever a change is needed, we find ourselves in the womb to be born anew. Our task in these moments is to direct and focus these changes so that we emerge more whole, more compassionate, and more dedicated to justice.

We instinctively enter this state when we encounter profound psychic or emotional pain. Falling into the Via Negativa, we cocoon ourselves, shielding against the ache while we unconsciously begin to transform. Wisdom calls us to do this work with intention: to let go of what no longer serves us, to release thoughts that hold us back, and to trust the silence that remakes us. On this path of Creation Spirituality, we learn to let go and let be, but letting go is not passive. Sometimes it is the most courageous act we can take.

In this dark place, we must not take our eyes off the light. Journaling, meditation, and prayer become our companions. We seek answers, but wisdom tells us when we need answers and when we need change. Answers are important when we don't understand what is happening. Change is necessary when we question who we are and how we are living our lives. We are ever growing toward justice, compassion, and hope. These are the sun, the rain, and the soil that nourish us. So long as we focus on these elements, we will emerge in a new beautiful form.

The New Moon reminds us that absence is not emptiness. It is a fertile womb, holding space for the transformations yet to come.

Practice: Entering the Dark Womb of Creation

1. Preparation

Find a dark or dimly lit space. If possible, turn off all lights except a single candle or a small lamp, symbolizing the hidden light that still guides us. Place a journal and pen beside you.

2. Invocation

Begin with a simple prayer or breath:
“Holy Mystery, as the moon hides her face, let me rest in your hidden womb. Teach me to let go, to be unmade, and to be remade in your justice, compassion, and hope.”

3. Descent into Silence

Close your eyes and breathe deeply. Imagine yourself stepping into a cocoon, a womb woven of shadow and silence. Feel your body resting in this place, as though the darkness holds you gently.

As you sit, let the questions rise:

• What pain or worry has wrapped itself around me?

• What old thought, belief, or habit am I ready to let go of?

Do not force an answer. Simply notice what arises.

4. Journaling

Open your journal and write:

• “What do I need to release in order to be reborn?”

• “What light do I keep my eyes on as I pass through this dark womb?”

Let your words flow without judgment. This is not about finding clarity, but about letting your hidden self speak.

5. Offering and Release

When you are finished, place your hand over the page and whisper:
“I let go. I let be. I trust the silence that remakes me.”

If you wish, you may fold the page and set it aside, symbolizing placing your burdens into the womb to be transformed.

6. Closing

Return your attention to the small light in your space. Say aloud:
“Justice is my sun. Compassion is my rain. Hope is my soil. In these, I am reborn.”

Blow out the candle or close your eyes once more, sealing the practice in silence.

Closing Blessing

Holy Mystery,
you have held us in the silent womb of night.
You have unmade us and are remaking us still.

As we leave this darkness,
let us carry with us the courage to release,
the strength to change,
and the hope that blooms from your hidden light.

May justice be our sun,
compassion our rain,
and hope our soil,
that we may rise from this womb in beauty and truth.

In your silence, we are renewed.
In your mystery, we are born again.
Amen.

Invocation

Holy One,
You who shine in radiance and whisper in shadow,
draw us into Your presence now.

As the Third Quarter Moon lifts her face,
teach us to savor the beauty of light and darkness together.
We come not to solve but to listen,
not to master but to marvel.

Give us the courage to rest in Your mystery,
and the joy to wait in Your silence with expectant hearts.

Speak, still small voice.

Shine, uncreated light.

Let Your Word be a lamp to our feet,
and a light upon the path before us.

Amen.

The Sacred Moment

Today, the third quarter moon rises, opening the middle way between light and darkness. May we feel the call to awe, to cosmic hospitality, to the art of savor, and to the kin-dom of God here and now. In the sacred light of the Third Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Positiva: the way of wonder, the dance of delight, courage to speak the living Word of God into form. Our souls ache for blessing and community as we gather to taste the sweetness of life and share the joy with each other.

This is a moon to awaken, to bless, to behold.

Theme: The Beauty of Shadows

There's so much going on in the world today that just feels dark, from murder to mass shootings to just the constant sense of violence and authoritarian takeover. And with that, there tends to be a shadow that gets cast over us, where we feel a little lost, that we're trapped in the great cloud of unknowing without a sense of where to go or how we should move forward.

It's important for us to take time to realize the blessing of not knowing. In that space of ambiguity, we have the tools and the opportunity to seek within ourselves, and with each other, a way to move forward and a way to find peace, because we're not trapped in any one dogmatic or rigid system that requires us to act or behave in certain ways.

When we talk about the Via Positiva, we're often talking about the topics of light, the things that we know, the things that we can directly experience. But one of those experiences that we can have is this great sense of not knowing. And while in the Via Negativa, we learn to sit with that and to find a place in ourselves to just let that be or to let go of our preconceptions, in the Via Positiva, we're here to gather, to savor, to find the Word of God. And the Word of God is found in the still, small voice.

The Via Positiva is the path of awe, delight, and wonder. It reminds us to look at cosmos not as a problem to solve but as a gift to savor. The Third Quarter Moon, glowing in its in-between brilliance, invites us into this practice.

The Psalmist teaches us, “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty” (Psalm 91:1, WEB). That shadow is not absence but refuge. It is a shelter that surrounds us in gentleness, a reminder that God’s presence is not only in dazzling clarity but also in the quiet shade.

Proverbs declares, “It is the glory of God to conceal a thing, but the glory of kings is to search out a matter” (Proverbs 25:2, WEB). In the shadow, God conceals, not to punish us or hide from us, but to lure us into curiosity and reverence. The mystery is part of the blessing. To be in shadow is to be invited into a sacred game of discovery, to seek wisdom in places where it does not announce itself loudly.

We see this truth in Elijah’s encounter on Mount Horeb. “Behold, Yahweh passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before Yahweh; but Yahweh was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake; but Yahweh was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake a fire passed; but Yahweh was not in the fire. After the fire, there was a still small voice” (1 Kings 19:11–12, WEB). When God spoke to Elijah in the cave, the voice was not in the thunder, in the light, in the fire. It was not in the earthquake, but it was in this still, small voice, this quiet within. If we're going to speak the Word of God, the liberating, powerful, resounding Word of God that is needed to bring grace into this world and to help us to find our way to the world to come that we wish to see manifest in this world, we have to savor these moments in the silence, in the darkness, in the shadows, and listen for that Word of God so that we can speak it with integrity as the power flows through us to make this world a better place.

This is the heart of the Third Quarter Moon. It is not the absence of light, but the soft presence of light and shadow together. It is the moon teaching us to see differently, to listen differently. Job was asked, “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Declare, if you have understanding” (Job 38:4, WEB). These divine questions are not meant to silence us but to awaken us to awe, to remind us that even in what we do not understand, we are surrounded by beauty and meaning.

In the Via Positiva we do not endure the shadows, we celebrate them. Shadows soften our gaze. They deepen the colors of creation. They teach us patience, intimacy, and attentiveness, reminding us that the Divine does not shout from the heavens but whispers in the hush.

So as the Third Quarter Moon rises, let us take its lesson to heart and rest in the shadow of the Almighty. Let us search out the hidden wisdom that God conceals with joy, and listen for the still small voice, not in the thunder, but in the quiet glow of the inner, uncreated light. With the Psalmist we proclaim: “Your word is a lamp to my feet, and a light for my path” (Psalm 119:105, WEB). Not a blazing sun, not a floodlight, but a lamp: gentle, sufficient, and full of wonder.

We need to remember that when we sit in silence, there's two ways to do that. There's the method that is so popular nowadays of pure mindfulness meditation, where we just sit and rest and let be. But there's also this deep contemplation where we sit with expectant wonder, with expectant awe, profound silence, where we just sit and wait and listen. As the scriptures say, “But those who wait for Yahweh will renew their strength. They will mount up with wings like eagles. They will run, and not be weary. They will walk, and not faint (Isaiah 40:31 WEB).”

That is true in the Via Negativa, but it is also true in the Via Positiva. It is a way for us to sit expectantly in that silence, waiting for the uncreated light, the inner light, to shine through us and give us direction. We may have moments of thought, we may have moments of clarity, but this isn't rumination. This is a time for us to contemplate in that quiet place, to just sit and wait for the voice, the light to shine within us. Always with faith, which is the hope of things not seen, that the answers are there, that we can find them, that we are not lost in the darkness, but we have a lamp that will shine at our feet and let us see the path.

Practice: Expectant Waiting

The Quaker tradition offers us a simple but profound practice called expectant waiting. It is not just silence for silence’s sake, nor is it passive or empty. Instead, it is a silence of expectancy, a listening with the whole self for the inner light of God to shine, speak, and move within us.

Here’s how to practice it:

Find a quiet place.

You may sit alone or with others, but choose a space where you will not be easily distracted. Sit comfortably, upright but relaxed, in a way that allows you to be attentive.

Settle into silence.

Close your eyes or soften your gaze. Let your breathing slow. Release any need to analyze your thoughts. You are not trying to empty your mind entirely, but to quiet it enough to listen.

Wait with expectancy.

This is the heart of the practice. In Quaker waiting, you are not drifting into nothingness but leaning forward in the Spirit, as though you are listening for a beloved friend’s whisper. The silence is alive with presence. You are waiting for the Spirit to stir, for the still small voice to rise.

Attend to what arises.

As thoughts, images, or feelings emerge, notice them with reverence. Some may be distractions; let those drift away. Others may carry weight, clarity, or a sense of deep peace. Those are often how the inner light speaks. Do not force meaning, but stay open to the possibility that God is speaking to you here.

Respond gently.

If a message forms: a phrase, a scripture, a conviction, a word of encouragement; hold it in your heart. In communal worship, Friends may feel led to speak aloud when a message arises with clarity and power. Alone, you may choose to write it down, pray it silently, or simply sit with it.

Close with gratitude.

After a while, whether minutes or an hour, bring the practice to a close by thanking God for the silence and the word, whether or not you feel you received a clear message. Expectant waiting is not about success or failure; it is about showing up in faith.

This practice of waiting is not passive resignation. It is a posture of trust that the Word of God will come, that the inner light will shine, that the lamp will be placed at your feet.

Closing Blessing

Holy One,
We thank You for the gift of shadows,
for the quiet places where Your voice is heard,
for the mystery that deepens our wonder,
and for the gentle lamp that guides our steps.

As we rise from this time of silence and expectancy,
let the still small voice remain in our hearts.

Renew our strength
that we may walk and not faint,
run and not grow weary,
and lift our lives like eagles into Your winds of grace.

Send us forth with courage,
to speak Your liberating Word,
to shine with the uncreated light,
and to savor the beauty of all that You have made.

Amen.