Sophia Bonnie Wodin

‘Tis the Turning of the Wheel, A time between.   What has been is now finished. What shall be, yet to unfold. Here at the portal, the veil is thin. Our Beloved Dead walk among us. Listen! In the unwinding of the season We hear them. In the rising of the Moon We hear them. In the dawning of the day We hear them. In the sighing of the winds, We hear them. In the shivering of branches, Half-shed of their leaves We hear them. In the crackling of the bonfire We hear them. In the crashing of the waves, In the frost-drenched earth, In the sureness of the soul We hear them. Crossing the veil in the shadows they watch, wondering will we know them for who they have become? New and at once the same. our Beloved Dead walk among us. Pay them heed. The gift of their love endures.

The veil has thinned. The Wheel Turns.   One year ends, another begins. Our summer gardens have been put to bed, winter crops sown.   Hecate waits at the crossroads, lighting the way as we enter the darkness of the year.   Which road she asks, will you take? Some of us welcome our own beloved dead, honoring them in ritual or at silent suppers; preparing their favorite foods and telling their stories; listening for the gift of their wisdom from beyond the veil. Some traditions acknowledge Persephone, who entered Her underground home at Equinox, waiting to welcome the souls of those who died this year.   In agriculturally based traditions, it may be the Harvest Lord who leads these souls into Her willing arms. This year I have been called to embody the role of Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, who receives the souls.   As I prepare to stand in the power of this place I notice that I am already in the Underworld, drawn there by a force that resi...

Come under the umbrella of my wings, dear one. Let me spread wide the cloak of love that shelters us from the winds of fate. Rest in this moment. Ah, circumstances will hook us once again, and off we shall fly into the logistics of life, fixated on the cause of the hour.   Heralding the work that must be done to keep this good Earth turning. But here, now, in our arms we can know a moment of peace.

“Jocko, my friend and companion, let’s us away and be off on an adventure.  What shall we find when we walk out of today’s door?” The youth, of indeterminate age, rose from the labors of a well-ordered life, restless and yearning.  She packed only the essentials: her knife; matches in a screw-top, water-tight container; her bowl and spoon fine carved from the maple that fell during an ice storm in the forest behind her childhood home; a clay whistle to accompany her thoughts on the journey; paper, pens.  And, yes, clean undies, dry socks, and most important, treats for Jocko. She closed the window in her compact cabin except for an inch at the very top and stepped out into the spring morning.  Closing the door.  She glanced back, wondering. The words of a once-trusted friend echoed in her memory, “once you open the door to change, you don’t know where it will lead.”  But the questions playing tag in the corners of her mind lingered only a moment b...

Now is a time when the veil thins. Can you feel it? In the sighing winds whipping through flaming trees, falling leaves. In the birds winging their way to winter homes, warmer climes. In your dreams, waking and sleeping, shades of yesterday whisper your name calling from forgotten times. The veil is thinning. Those who feel it ache with a desire thrumming in the blood. Listen! The veil thins.  We are in a transition time of year.  As we move steadily towards the darkness we may find that our lives mirror the cycles of nature; and that we, too are in transition. Leaving our busy outward facing lives of summer, the heart rending beauty of autumn and the abundance of harvest.  We ready ourselves to turn inwards as darkening days approach. Once, when the world turned towards the darkness, I turned to the noise and glamour of parties.  I had no tolerance for the invitation to quiet contemplation th...

The other evening I was part of a conversation that is dear to my heart.  Why do we do what we do?  We might say that when we engage in political action our intention is to “save the world” or to “create a better world”, a place where all of life can thrive.  But is it sustainable? Certainly this intention is central for many of us.  But what happens after we have been doing the work for years or for decades and we burn out?  How do we keep on keepin’ on in the face of the harsh and painful realities our culture dishes up on a regular basis? What I loved about this conversation was our willingness to face our inconsistencies, our ability to inquire with wonder and ask ourselves, why DO we do it?  Our conversation moved from disillusionment to vigor; from sharing the daily practices that keep us going to confusion to curiosity to gratitude and round again.  We wondered if hope for a pre-determined outcome was just anot...