Autumn is here for certain now.  Many days of late with occasional sun breaks but some dampness (YAY!) and clouds and breaking out the lightweight fall coats and sweaters.  Flannel pillowcases on the bed, soft fuzzy blanket out of storage.  Autumn projects bubbling in my head, preparations for the Mabon ritual this Saturday evening.  For the potluck I’m making little pumpkin breads in muffin pans where each is shaped like a leaf.  Makes me very smiley.  Good friends, smiling faces, small bon fire, yummy food (these folks know how to potluck).  Quite excited about it actually. And that is good as I haven’t felt excited about much of anything over the past few months. Down in the Dumps I’ve been.

There has been a definite trend in my life of late to jet things go.  Har, I mean LET things go.  Interesting slip there.  Jet propulsion expulsion explosion…

Life is changing in many ways for me at the moment. As I’ve stated before, friendships and beliefs and attachments of many kinds have been under the microscope this summer. And it seems also under the sickle.  The death of the God reflected in my life. The end, the sacrifice, the harvest.  And now the fresh winds arrive to blow the ashes into the skies and send them on their way to nourish the lands for next years crop.

Here it is, Autumn, and for me, that is new beginnings.  I do as much Autumn Cleaning as I do Spring Cleaning.  Maybe even more.  And I feel fresh and free and giddy for the first time in a long time.  It really tells me that I’m letting go of the right things.

All summer I have been in, what my first sponsor called, The Gap.  I’m gapping in the space between what no longer works and is gone and what does work but isn’t here yet.  Gapping can be an icky place to be.  You feel like you’re sitting in a fog until it passes. I do feel that something has definitely been bubbling in cauldron, it isn’t empty. What is really happening is the Soup in the Cauldron.  Add a bit of butter, then some onions and some celery, then some water, then a chicken (omnivore here), some carrots, corn, spinach, zuchini, and maybe some barley.  And don’t forget the spices of life.  Thyme, summer savory, salt, pepper, perhaps a touch of rosemary.

And suddenly, what looked like just a pile of stuff totally unrelated to each other is soup. Something that nourishes you, that feeds you, that makes you smile, and warms the bones of you.

I?  Feel like my soup is almost ready.  I need to add some spices and get out the bowl and spoon.  The wheel is turning and I’m rising up into the blessings of the season.   That steam wafting up from the cauldron smells darned good to me.

One last note from Pagan Godspell:

“I am half rock n’ roll and half gregorian chant as I stare down the long, golden road of fall – noticing as I drive the long dusty farm roads to various appointments, how the corn turns a rusty shade of red and blushes new as a peach at sunset. How the rain comes cold and sweet like a lemon. How the creeks lap at the grass and wax blue as the best evening sky.

And here I sit in the breathless perfection of creeping spectacular death – the tending to the sleeping bed of the Mama before her long, ancient nap – and….well, it’s hard to stay irritated when the world is just so freakin’ gorgeous.”

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh