Footnotes

extra doses of medicine for aging and pressured new years

Hey, it’s me again — twice in two days, which is unusual, I know. Every time I send a new post out, I watch subscribers quietly leave, and I’m sure this will be no different. But instead of seeing that as a personal slight as a writer, I’m choosing to see it as a gift.

More is not inherently better.

I’m not trying to “build a platform” or a “personal brand.” I’m just writing my heart on the page, and if something in that sparks recognition in you, provokes thought, offers companionship or nourishment, you are the ones I hope my words remain with. And at any point, if this is not true, I want you to feel free to unsubscribe. I really do.

But the reason I’m sending out this second post is because I came across two readings after I published yesterday’s essay. And they were too rich, resonant and affirming not to pass along.

I hope you’ll find in these words something worth savoring, pondering, and perhaps taking into yourself.

A Blessing For Old Age

May the light of your soul mind you.

May all your worry and anxiousness about your age

Be transfigured.

May you be given wisdom for the eyes of your soul

To see this as a time of gracious harvesting.

May you have the passion to heal what has hurt you,

And allow it to come closer and become one with you.

May you have great dignity,

Sense how free you are;

Above all, may you be given the wonderful gift

Of meeting the eternal light that is within you.

May you be blessed;

And may you find a wonderful love

In your self for your self.

From Anam Cara: A book of Celtic wisdom, by John O’Donohue

And this, for those who are feeling out of sync with the pressure of New Year energy.

We Do Not Begin in January

(A bard’s reminder for witches)

Come closer, witch, and warm your hands by the fire.

The world beyond the hedge may shout “New Year, new goals!”,

but we who walk the old paths know better.

January is not a doorway.

It is a hearth.

The Yule Spirits still reign.

The nights are still long, the earth still dreaming,

and the Holly King yet sits crowned in frost and evergreen.

He does not rush.

He does not plan spreadsheets for the future.

He asks only this:

“Have you sealed your clarity?”

This is the season of closing, not striving.

Of binding loose threads.

Of finishing what was begun.

Of letting grief, lessons, and half-formed thoughts settle into truth.

In the old ways, witches did not force intention while the land slept.

We listened.

We rested.

We watched the smoke curl and the embers glow.

January is for:

sealing wisdom,

tending the nervous system,

letting answers arrive slowly,

closing the book before choosing a new one.

Only at Imbolc, when the first quiet stirring rises beneath the soil,

do we turn our faces toward beginnings.

February is the flame-spark.

January is the ash.

So if you feel behind, tired, unmotivated, or unwilling to “set goals” —

you are not broken.

You are seasonal.

You are witch-wise.

You are still within Yule’s embrace.

Sit a little longer with the Holly King.

Let clarity seal itself like wax on a letter.

The path will open —

but not before the land says now.

From Across the Hedge, by Witch Guinivere Rose

Peace to you,

Phoenix