Tea for the Pause::liminality and divination only work if I’m clear. And I wasn’t, not for a long span of weeks. See, the way forward is still shrouded. We are here, we are waiting. I’ve waited many times for beautiful things—a kiss, babies, creation, fulfillment, direction...you? In the waiting I can try to push but (baby as metaphor) if the timing isn’t right, nothing works. Similarly in waiting if I try to force an answer from a still weaving wyrd, the resulting tangle deepens frustration, and can even cause delays.
In these past days I’ve returned to practice. Writing, making, ritual, stretching, infusions, family rhythms. Those anchors. And I feel clear, at last. Not about the way forward—we don’t get to know the how, the what, the all important when. But the way here. With all its imperfections, here is where I am, where we are. This moment, writing to you with fresh roses on the altar and Mugwort scented hands. I release to here and trust the way, the wyrd.