When we think of grief ... or well, when we think of much of anything ... we might not consider the grief that we inherit along our ancestral lines, that's in our cells and bones. Nor might we consider what... Continue Reading →
This is such a lovely musing about the places and spaces we live in, how they have an essence and living heart(h) of their own, and how we’re very much in relationship with them … whether we realize it or not.
(And if you’re an empath-sensitive, you’re probably very much aware of it!).
I’m a few weeks from making a new house my home, so will be getting acquainted with it, and the spirits of place, soon.
It’s a lovely reminder that each place, each thing, each being, is Holy Ground in and of itself.
And as Andrea mentions, at the warm and fiery heart, hearth, and core of every place, we find Vesta (Hestia to the Greeks) — the very core of the Feminine.
Thanks to Andrea for sharing this musing via her blog, Harvesting Hecate.
Old houses are filled with stories. We live in them knowing that others, long dead, have lived here before us. We may never know exactly who they were, what their lives were like, how they lived and died. But we know that their history has soaked into the walls, their voices have filled the rooms, their journeys have helped the house become what it is today.
I remember the autumn evening, ten years ago, when this house became our home. We hadn’t yet moved in, so it was empty of furniture, but we lit the fire and sat on the floor in the sitting room. The décor was dark and ugly, there was much to do to make it ours, but I remember the feeling of contentment at knowing this was our home. When we moved in we set to with paint before we even settled, divesting the house of its last…
View original post 600 more words
"Let the stream follow its course, it will know the way among the mountains. Watch, and it will lead you to the ocean with gentle certainty -- unforced. Have faith in your direction." David M. Bell, Spirit of Nature: The... Continue Reading →