Welcome,
Dear one.
Find a comfortable position either seated or lying down.
Let your hands rest wherever they feel at ease and allow your eyes to close.
Will gently begin to soften your gaze Feel the surface beneath you the places where your body is supported.
Take a soft breath in and gently let it go.
Allow your jaw to soften.
Your shoulders to settle.
And let your breathing find its own quiet rhythm.
There is nothing you need to achieve you have simply arrived.
Now imagine an old garden at the turning of the season you can picture it Sense it.
Or simply listen as we walk through it together.
The air is cool against your cheeks.
Carrying the scent of fallen leaves.
And apples ripening on the branches.
A narrow path winds between beds of rosemary and fading flowers.
Here and there,
A few late blooms still hold their colour.
Beyond them,
The trees are beginning to turn.
Shades of copper,
Amber and deep gold.
It is Mabon,
The Autumn Equinox.
A threshold in the year inviting you to pause between the gathering and the letting go.
You follow the path towards an apple tree at the centre of the garden Its branches spread wide above a small wooden table.
A lantern glows upon the table.
And beside the lantern stands a set of old brass scales suspended from a stem shaped like a twisting branch.
Two shallow bowls hang from delicate chains.
One holds the last golden light of afternoon.
The other holds the first soft blue of evening.
Although there is no wind here,
The bowls move gently.
As though the scales are breathing.
You draw closer and notice words carved into the table.
Let what sustains you have its place.
There is a chair waiting beneath the tree.
You sit and feel the earth steady beneath your feet.
These scales are here to help you notice what you have been carrying.
And what might help you carry it.
You do not have to make every part of your life equal.
Some things need more of you in certain seasons.
But you too need tending.
A small shape begins to form in the golden bowl.
It is an earthenware cup,
Warm from the kiln.
This represents your body.
The body that has carried you through everything it took to arrive here.
Now ask yourself gently.
Am I giving myself what I need?
Allow this question to settle beneath your thoughts Maybe you notice a need for nourishment.
Movement.
Comfort or simply permission to stop pushing for a little while.
You do not need to decide what to do.
Just simply relax and listen The cup dissolves into a soft glow.
And in its place appears a tiny house.
With a light burning in one window.
Your home.
The space you return to and the atmosphere you live within.
Now ask yourself,
Does my space restore me or drain me?
Notice what comes to mind.
Maybe one corner feels peaceful.
Another may seem to ask something of you every time you pass it.
Imagine opening a window in that little house.
Let the fresh autumn air move through.
There may be one small way to make more room for yourself here.
But for now,
Noticing is simply enough.
The house slowly fades.
And two ribbons appear loosely woven together These represent your relationships.
The connections that hold you,
Delight you,
And sometimes ask more than you have to give.
Ask yourself.
Where am I giving more than I receive?
Let an honest answer come.
You can care for someone and still notice that you are tired.
You can love someone and need something to change.
And notice too where care comes towards you.
Where you can maybe soften where you are allowed to receive.
The ribbons become a small golden lantern.
This is your work and your purpose.
The things you make,
Tend,
Organize,
Offer,
And bring into the world.
Now ask yourself,
Where is my energy being well spent?
Maybe there is something that leaves you tired,
Yet quietly satisfied.
Something that feels meaningful,
Even when it's difficult.
Or perhaps there is something you continue to carry because you have never stopped to ask whether it still belongs to you.
Let yourself notice the difference.
There are no decisions required today.
The lantern begins to dim.
Slowly dissolving and becoming a feather.
It settles so lightly in the bowl that the chains barely stir.
Your rest.
Now ask yourself,
Am I allowing enough stillness?
Feel what happens in your body when you imagine time that asks nothing of you.
No catching up.
Just a simple little space to exist.
If that feels unfamiliar.
Let the feather remain here for a little while.
You can begin with something small.
Now the feather turns into a smooth dark stone with a tiny glimmer at its center.
Your magic.
Your relationship with wonder,
Ritual,
Intuition,
And the unseen.
Ask yourself.
Does my practice nourish me or does it feel like another obligation?
Perhaps your magic is lively just now.
Or maybe it's quiet.
Maybe it lives in the way you stir your tea,
Speak to the moon,
Or notice a leaf caught on your sleeve.
Let your practice take a shape that you have room to enjoy.
Even here,
You are allowed a gentler season.
Stone dissolves.
The two bowls are empty again.
Take a soft,
Easy breath.
You've looked into different parts of your life today.
And you don't need to fix everything that you have seen Just simply notice where the scales are asking to be adjusted.
One space,
One small shift.
Above you,
A golden leaf loosens from the apple tree.
It drifts down and comes to rest in your palm.
Along its veins,
Tiny points of light begin to gather.
Now think of something you are ready to carry a little less of.
Maybe a demand,
An expectation.
The habit of saying yes before you've checked in with how you feel.
You do not need to release it completely.
For this moment,
Just imagine placing a little of it into the weight of the leaf.
Watch as the gold deepens.
Feel your hand growing lighter.
Now lay the leaf in one bowl on the scales.
Then turn your other palm upwards.
A second leaf settles there.
Copper coloured and warm.
Ask yourself,
What would help sustain me now?
Let the answer be ordinary.
It could be an early night.
A cleared bedside table.
An honest conversation.
To eat a meal sat down.
A moment of magic with no photographs and no audience.
Imagine this small kindness resting within the copper leaf.
And place it into the other bowl.
The scales begin to move Slowly.
Gently.
As they settle,
A fine thread of amber light rises between the two leaves.
It curls through the air and comes to rest across your open hands.
Imagine that you can feel its warmth.
This is the little enchantment you will carry from the garden.
Bring your thumb and fingertip softly together as though holding the golden thread.
And say the words after me.
At this turning of the year,
May my own needs become clear.
What sustains me let it stay,
Let one burden fall away.
The thread gathers into a tiny circle of light.
And then slowly begins to fade into your hands.
Feel the touch of your thumb and fingertips.
You can return to this gesture in any ordinary moment.
The lantern on the table glows a little brighter now.
Around you,
The garden settles into evening.
Before you leave,
Let's take a moment to acknowledge something you have grown this year.
Maybe something others can see.
Something private.
A boundary.
A beginning.
The courage to keep going through a difficult time.
Whatever it may be,
Let it count as part of your harvest.
You rise from the chair and return along the garden path Leaves whisper beneath your feet.
The scent of apples lingers in the cool air.
And gradually you become aware of the room around you the surface beneath your body the resting weight of your hands.
Take a comfortable breath.
And gently exhale wiggle your fingers Wiggle your toes.
And when you are ready softly open your eyes May there be room in your life for the things that nourish you.
And may you remember to include yourself amongst all the things you tend.
Blessed be.
