The First Day of September

 I was awake at 4:30 a.m. and thinking how oddly quiet that dark hour seemed when the spell was broken by a bear cub calling in distress. She was somewhere to the northwest of the Cottage, up the mountain I suppose, and her cries were first answered by the deep staccato barks of a dog whose voice was unfamiliar to me.

Hank went out to pace and add his own voice to the night. I walked to the fence line and, standing still, sang my own sounds to weave a new spell.

Comfort. Courage. A summoning of bear. A howl of defiance. Then, “hush now.”

Hank stood next to me, gone quiet. The other dog lost his voice. The cub stopped crying. In a few moments the normal and expected night sounds returned; crickets and whoever else sings under the stars at this time of year. The danger had passed.

I have felt the collective relief stirred by the shifting political energy of the last couple of weeks. There is new hope slipped into the basket with old hopes that have been washed clean and nicely folded. It’s a lovely feeling, for certain. But it doesn’t mean we can let our guard down.

It doesn’t mean the world is suddenly safe space.

It doesn’t mean we have time or space to forget who we are, the power that we have, or the work that is ours to do.

I know who I am, in the dark and in the light and all the spaces in between. Do you?

Good morning on this first day of September. This is a gentle reminder to begin (or continue) getting ready for the shift into Autumn.

I’m writing this morning, but later today there will be cleaning, cleansing, and clearing happening. And I’ve promised Larry a baked custard, so some kitchen witching as well.

Peace and love from the Bear Path.

#onthebearpath #cottagewitch #bearpathcottage #peacelovehope #hank #blackbear

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