One of the first things I did as a new Pagan was roam the hills and woods near my home looking for flower faeries. I felt, at the time, like I had seen a few, as well as the faery of the tree in my back yard. When I did my self initiation as a solitary eclectic Wiccan (I don't call myself Wiccan anymore) I used fronds from a local willow tree to form a circlet to wear. Weeping willow is still sacred to me to this day. I'm typing this with a willow frond in henna on my arm, and "willow" remains part of my magickal name.

Raise your hand if you feel like an oppressor.

...Did you raise your hand?

When you take a moral stance, on some level you're accusing others of taking an immoral stance. When you fight for justice, it must mean some people are unjust. There's not really a way around that unless you draw really vague boundaries.

It’s the harvest season and my garden seems to be slowing down. This has been my first season gardening and I’ve been thinking a lot about Demeter, the cycles of the Earth, and our place in all of that. In fact a good part of this post was inspired by a gardening comment I left on one of Michelle’s posts and conversations I’ve had about it.