There is something about a winter sky that grips the breath as it leaves the lungs. An arresting beauty that seems to swallow whole the fragile body. There is something in the body that wants to be swallowed. The migration of a winter sky travels in mysterious ways. Finding its way into every crack in the skin, soaking into every pour. Expanding deep inside us, filling up and exploring our landscape within. There is something about The Cauldon of the soul that speaks openly to the sky spirits. For a winter sky is a reflection of our very existence. A genesis occurring when our subconscious meets our conscious spirit.
The sky mirrors our depth of experience. What have we lived through, what in life will we let touch us, what is it that will become of us. If we continue to add to the cauldron of the soul over time. To this eternal elixir of evolutionary alchemy. We, by living each day, will add, then add more, and more into the cauldron. We will fill ourselves up. Mixing, brewing, whispering enchantments. We bath each day in this potion that we are creating. This cauldron, when we were young was a sweet little pot, mostly filled with innocence, wonder and daisies. With every new experience our cauldron swelled, stretching, expanding and sometimes cracking. Naturally making room for more and more life.
By middle age, the cauldron will be feel bigger than the body, an endless cosmos held within. A world within a world. Full of memories, intentions, dreams, losses. The winter sky speaks to the soul. Within the heavy velveteen folds lie all that we are, all that we will become. All that we will ever know. When we see ourselves through the lens of the sky, we hear a voice from deep within. We are suddenly reminded of our journey of evolution. Our place within the grand design of life. We are attuned with our spirit in this moment. In these brief dimensions of beauty we are swallowed and we can swim. Swim within our own cauldron. Explore our inner sky.
What have we been adding to our cauldron? Is it well oiled? Have we seasoned it well? Have we been enriching it, adding depth of spice and sweetness? Adding herbs and essences of nature. Filling up on inspiration, joy. Or have we left our own cauldron to become stagnant, or evaporate almost completely. Have we let our mixture turn sour or split? We are what we create. The whole of the ingredients we choose. Our cauldron is always present. Waiting and ready. Beckoning us to add something of value. Some nourishment. Sustenance. An apple, a good book, a walk in the woods, a tender moment with another living being or some kind words for our own ears to hear. A touch, a smell, a taste. Something that will enliven the senses.
What do you see in yourself when you look at the winter sky? What does the cauldron of your soul need Witch?
Yours in the heart of the woodlands.
Mags Black.
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