Spring Equinox blessings from the crafty kitchen

Let the rain rain and the wind blow

An end comes to the the reign of snow.

Bright hues take from the drawer.

Life's new chance knocks at the door.

If your spirit sometimes feels a bit bruised these days, you're not alone. There are not a lot of good fixes that will harden our spirits without closing us down. But there is solace. 

For me, one solace is creating useful items that are also beautiful in connection with the natural world. It can be difficult to find the time, but well worth it when you do. 

Carve out a little time, brew some tea, light a candle and get out supplies. I have several crafts here to suit the materials on hand. Each one helps to ground and renew the spirit. 

These crafts are inspirations for Ostara/Spring Equinox/Easter crafts that are not actually made with an egg shell for a change. These are easy crafts individually and can be handled by a frazzled mom and kids, at least by this one, or by those without a ton of craft experience. And yet they are real crafts with tangible and useful results.

I include crafts in my blogs because I am often frustrated by the craft sites online that seem to give no thought to how hard it is to fit these things into everyday life, especially when you have little ones. I include here both realistic instructions and my own learning experiences in hopes that others may be saved the hassle.

Easy Equinox Spring-in-your-step Soap

This is from an easy melt-and-pour soap recipe but can be used even if you're making your own lye soap. I used a moisturizing, clear glycerin soap base. I was frustrated with the soap we buy at the store that dries our skin and doesn't smell all that great. Also my daughter is always begging to buy expensive colorful soap and this is healthy, quick, easy and cheap.

1. Cut a block of soap base into small cubes or quarter-inch thick slices with a sharp knife
2. Heat in a pot devoted to soap and candle making on a low heat.
3. Prepare a box (plastic or paper lined with plastic) or soap molds if you have them. I used a paper handkerchief box lined with wax paper.
4. When the soap has thoroughly melted in the pot, add a few drops of food coloring. Just a few! Mine came out a very rich color and that was probably only three drops. (We used purple for luck, independence and psychic connection and because my daughter wanted purple. Other great spring colors are green (for prosperity and success), yellow (for happiness and imagination) and light blue (for peace and tranquility).
5. Add 20 to 40 drops of essential oils (depending on your sensitivity to fragrances). We used mint (for happiness and spring renewal), pine (for healing, protection and fertility), geranium (for spring love and joy, as well as not incidentally an excellent repellent for tick season) and a touch of lavender (to dispel any lingering winter doldrums). This is what I call the spring-in-your-step soap fragrance.
6. Add a handful of ground or finely chopped and crushed herbs. I use lavender flowers, which are pretty so I don't entirely grind them up. They give the soap a nice scratchy, scrubby texture which helps clean off the dead skin that accumulates over the winter (defoliation). And it adds lovely natural beauty. Stir the herbs in well.
7. Pour the melted soap into your prepared box or molds.
8. Let it sit for at least three hours or overnight. Remove it from the molds. It slides right out. Then, if you have used a box like I did, cut the soap into bars. I recommend making smaller bars than you would normally buy in the store because glycerin soap, which is healthier than the stuff you usually buy in the store, softens faster in damp conditions in the bathroom. A smaller bar will end up wasting less soap and you'll replace it more often.
9. Wrap the bars in plastic wrap to store. The one mistake I made in this process the first time around was not wrapping up my soap. It dried out and cracked a little over time. It was still quite usable but not as pretty. Plastic or wax paper will work better. Paper often sticks to the soap. 

Time for a luxurious spring bath!

Salt-dough egg decor

This is a craft for my kids who love painting. It makes beautiful home decor, something to put on the wall above the table or in place of a wreath on the front door for spring. And it's a very forgiving craft. Even a toddler can make a beautiful spring egg if given bright colors and an egg shape.

1. Mix salt dough (A cup of flour, a cup of salt, 2./3 cup hot water, a table spoon of oil)  and roll out thin.
2. Use a large shape cutter or a knife to cut an egg shape about as big as your outstretched hand.
3. Use small cookie cutters to cut out shapes from the inside (butterfly and flower cookie cutters are great but small circles and diamonds are fine too).
4. Save the cutouts to glue on in other places on the egg shape.
5. Bake on low heat or air dry for several days. 
6. Paint with bright and pastel colors.
7. Use glue or a glue gun to place the cutout shapes on the egg.
8. Hang as a spring decoration

Equinox candle magic

I'm crazy about candles in general and celebrating the Wheel of the Year I love to have candles specifically designed for various occasions. One way to do that is with color and scents. But I also wanted to find a way to make candles in various shapes. 

I am also a cookie-cutter enthusiast, so I figured I could make candles in cookie cutters one way or another. So I started experimenting. 

As you can imagine, the first experiments resulted in a lot of wax running all over the table. I suggest using paraffin wax, not beeswax for these candles. Beeswax will stick in small crevices of cookie cutters and be hard to remove without breaking the candle. Beeswax is also harder to remove from your table. With paraffin wax the old adage your mother probably told you really does apply:  Don't touch it until it's cool and it will come right off. 

After several more experiments I found that if you place a piece of wax paper over several layers of soft paper towels, you have a slick and wax-proof surface that is also slightly soft. When you go to pour your melted wax, you press down hard on the cookie cutter and it cuts into the soft surface, trapping the wax inside. Pour only a quarter-inch of wax and then wait and blow on the surface of the wax. You should be able to release it without the wax spilling after 30 to 60 seconds, depending on how much wax you have poured.

Let that candle sit and move on to your other cookie cutters or molds until the thin layer of wax in the bottom of the cookie cutter has more thoroughly cooled. Then position a wick in the middle of your candle and pour in a little more wax. Hold down the cookie cutter and wait a bit, holding the wick in place. The cooled wax at the bottom will remelt somewhat so if you bump the cookie cutter, you could have it all spill out. But it will only melt a little and mostly it should stay. 

Once you have your candle half full and slightly congealed, you've won. With that candle at least. Top off the candle as high as you can go and making sure the wick stays central and upright. 

Hints and tips:

Grease your cookie cutters with cooking oil before use. I haven't had much trouble getting candles out of the cookie cutters but a little oil helps it slide. 

Don't worry if your cookie cutter molds leak. Just don't lift them up. Let spilled wax cool and keep pouring. The leaked part will serve as a dike and eventually your candle will get full. Then peel the spilled wax off the wax paper and put it back in the pan to remelt. No harm done. Just keep hot wax off your clothes and skin. 

Step-by-step cookie-cutter candle-making instructions: 

1. Set grated or cut paraffin wax in a pot on low heat to melt.
2. Select theme-appropriate cookie cutters as molds and grease them with a little cooking oil. Deep cookie cutters are better but even a very short candle will burn and look pretty.
3. Lay down three or four layers of paper towels and cover with a sheet of wax paper. Place cookie cutters on the wax paper.
4. Ready short pieces of wick about an inch longer than the depth of your cookie cutters.
5. When the wax is fully melted add essential oils for fragrance. For spring I enjoy lemongrass and rosewood. And add wax colors, if you have them. Do not use liquid food coloring. I actually tried it and it does not work at all. 
6. Hold a cookie cutter down firmly. Pour a quarter inch of hot wax into the bottom. Continue to hold for 30 to 60 seconds. Then release and repeat with remaining cookie cutters. 
7. Return to the first cookie cutter and place a short piece of wick upright in the center. With some luck it will simply stick into the congealing wax and stand up without being held in place. Repeat with remaining cookie cutters.
8. Once the wax is visibly congealing, pour in more wax little by little to allow time for the wax to congeal.
9. Hold wicks in place as you wait for the wax to cool.
10. Top off the cookie cutters as much as possible. There is no need to leave room at the top. The wax slightly contracts. 
11. As the wax cools, peel off spilled wax and return it to the pot for reheating. 

You can use this method to make themed candles for many holidays. My favorites are sun, star and moon shaped candles, leaves, eggs and flowers for the spring, fruit and animals for the summer, acorns and deer (reindeer from Christmas cookie-cutter sets work great) for the fall, and trees, stars and suns for winter.

I hope these craft ideas are helpful or at least inspiring. Please share this post with interested friends.

You may also enjoy the children's chapter book with illustrations by Julie Freel that I have for Ostara. It is a story for kids ages six to twelve that centers around the Spring Equinox and deals with the difficulties of new beginnings, friendship and learning about diverse cultures. It is primarily a fun book for kids and my kids won't put it down, but it also contains ideas for natural egg dyes and other spring celebration plans.

Blessings of spring renewal to all! 

Imbolc or deep winter: A season in the belly

Ice outside, fire within, the strokes of brush and quill, bitter steam of medicinal plants steeping in a pot--these things defy time.

February 2, the day known to Christians as Candlemas and to modern pop culture as Ground Hog's Day was called Imbolc by the Celts of the British Isles. It is being called that again by earth-centered people all over the world.

Image by Arie Farnam

I grew up with many earth-centered holidays. I knew about the solstices and equinoxes. I even had some idea of the real meanings of Beltane. A harvest party in August or honoring ancestors at Halloween were also not entirely foreign concepts.

But Imbolc was new to me twelve years ago when I adopted the modern Wheel of the Year consisting of eight earth-centered holidays.

Here is a holiday entirely devoted to dreams, introspection, inspiration, intuition and creativity. It is like no other holiday because it can be easily celebrated alone and might even be best that way. 

I have come to love Imbolc. I feel like I am given permission to curl up with the Runes, Tarot and i-Ching in front of a cozy fire and dream without a schedule. I feel like I have permission to take a few days to do those quiet things I love, reading about herbal medicine (healing is a key aspect of Imbolc), creating something beautiful (art and creativity is central to Imbolc), sleeping long hours (it is natural to the season) and lighting lots of candles (the primary symbol of Imbolc is a candle).

I live far from many like-minded others and I often struggle to give my kids an experience of spiritual community. They are mildly resistant to our alternative dates for holidays at Yule or Ostara. The Summer Solstice, Lammas and Mabon just aren't quite right without a gathering of friends or community. But our home is perfect for Imbolc.

Image by Arie Farnam

This is truly the quiet time in our climate, surrounded by cold and frost. We light many candles and have time for more reflection and healing. The colors are stark and beautiful, white, gray and brown. With the sun returning a bit from the edge of the southern horizon, there is a realistic sense of a new year beginning.

I have become specifically devoted to the goddess Brigid in the past few years and Imbolc is the feast day of Brigid. That makes it particularly special and a time to celebrate my connection to the goddess. Brigid is concerned with healing, fire, justice, creativity, inspiration and intuition--all aspects of Imbolc and all things at the core of my life. 

I celebrate Imbolc by making Brigid's crosses for our doorways and hearth. I do divination of various types and a ritual honoring the goddess. I often place a large platter in the center of the table with sea salt, crystals and seven white candles on it. My children and I make a Brigid doll to sleep by the hearth and have a family ritual of waking up Brigid after the winter's sleep.  

Imbolc can mean different things in different climates. For many people this is the day of seeds because the ground is ready for planting. It is still too cold in our climate for planing anything but hardy starts on window sills. The concept of seeds goes along with the Wheel of the Year as a life cycle in which Imbolc is conception, Ostara is the moment of birth, Beltane is exuberant youth and so on. 

In other places though, this day is associated with pregnant ewes, and the word "Imbolc" may have originally meant "in the belly." This is because it is a fallow time in many parts of the world. Plans and activities are in the gestation phase, not yet ready to be revealed. Growth is slow and hidden. 

If you would like to learn more about Imbolc or include this holiday in a multicultural program, check out Shanna and the Raven, an Imbolc adventure story. Shanna and her brother Rye celebrate the holiday amid magic and candlelight, but there are shadows in the modern world. The kids must use intuition and signs from a mysterious raven to protect themselves from a grown-up menace.

In northern climates this was historically the time of candle making in households. There was little other work that could be done with the ground frozen and snow heavy on he earth. The year's candle supply was often made at this time and when northern Europe was Christianized, the holiday was transformed into Candlemas, in which the newly made candles are taken to the church to be blessed. 

There is certainly a connection to blessing candles and protection from fire. Brigid, both the Catholic saint of this day and the Pagan goddess of this time, is widely believed to protect homes from fire. In the Czech Republic Imbolc is still called by an old name "Hromnice" (Thundering). There is no thunder at this season, but the idea was that certain blessings or acts could be done at this time to gain protection from fire and lightening for the year. 

Whether you celebrate a specific holiday during the next few eeks or simply use the winter time for activities that get lost during the rest of the year, I wish you a good season of inspiration, healing and creativity.

Winter to comfort and heal

I know that by March I will be fed up with winter cold and gray. But for now winter is still young and fresh. New snow has fallen and our little town between the Bohemian hills is quiet under just a light haze of wood and coal smoke. 

Image by Arie Farnam

"It's so good to have a hard frost," my husband says with an audible sigh of relief as he sips his coffee and looks out over the snow-dusted garden. "It will set the garden slugs and mold back It's been three years since we had a good cold shock.."

I know many climates don't have winter like this, not even cold, let alone with snow. But every climate has a fallow period, whether it is parching, cleansing heat or a deluge of rain to wash away the grime of the past year. Everywhere around the world there comes a time of the year for going within, for seeking out a cozy place with a comfortable temperature, for cleaning, refreshing and regenerating. 

Even though I loved sledding as a kid and I see my kids celebrating our little bit of snow with shouts and bright cheeks, I never realized until I was at least thirty that I look forward to this season of deep winter. This is one of the few times of the year when I am not constantly rushing and overloaded with work. End of the year deadlines have passed, tax deadlines are yet to come, outside work is either done or beyond help and life is settled into the winter routine. 

This is often the season when I do my best and most intensive writing. I wrote the first three books in my fantasy thriller series from January to March one year. It is a time for creativity and inspiration, as well as a time when there is enough space for those concepts.

Image by Arie Farnam

In ancient times the Imbolc season in the middle of winter was also considered the time of healers. Partly this was because people tended to get colds and viral infections in the damp and chilly weather. The elderly and infants were in need of greater care and so healers were in demand. But for injuries, this is simply a time when healing is more possible because physical activity is reduced. 

One of the reasons I celebrate the nature-based seasons with the Wheel of the Year is that by paying attention to natural rhythms, I never forget to give each need in my body and soul its due. I tend to be a workaholic at times and it is good for me to be reminded to allow time for regeneration, healing and inspiration. 

Inspiration comes only when there is enough silence. Healing comes only when there is enough stillness.

This is nature's fallow time in the northern hemisphere, but whenever your fallow time comes, whether it is earth-based or personal, it is worth remembering that it is not a lost or wasted time. Rather it is a rare and precious opportunity for rest, healing, comfort and the quiet needed to awaken great things.

These are the values taught in the Children's Wheel of the Year books (otherwise known as the Shanna books). I wrote them in large part to illustrate for my children and others how each season has its value. The Imbolc story Shanna and the Raven is a suspenseful story about a brother and sister who use intuition and creativity to protect themselves from potential danger. The Imbolc season is highlighted as the time of healing and inner knowing within a gripping, kid-friendly story.

I don't make direct sales pitches in my emails often, but I would like to gently remind readers that now is the right time to order paperback copies of Shanna and the Raven in order to receive them by Imbolc. You can read more about the book and see photographs of the paperback illustrations here.

I am water

Here's a revelation from the shower..

The only time anyone gets to think in my household seems to be in the shower. Things have been crazy and the holidays aren't even here yet. Everyone is stressed out. My husband and I were on the rocks. The kids have taken arguing to a whole new level.

I feel like I'm hanging on by my fingernails sometimes. And I'm supposed to be resting after my eye operations. 

Creative Commons image by  Alex Dixon

My six-year-old came and asked me, "Who is the boss in our family? Is Grandma the boss or you or Papa?" 

The seven-year-old says whoever wants to be the boss has to be big and strong enough to get rid of Donald Trump, her new nemesis. I barely even feel big and strong enough to get breakfast. Let alone a healthy breakfast. 

I was in the shower in the midst of this, when simple words came into my mind, repeating like a mantra:
 

I am water.
I am the river.
I am the well.

Simple. Too simple maybe. But also the answer I needed.

I am water. Our bodies are mostly water. And the only way I can make a difference in the world or in my family is the way water works its wonders--through persistent, gentle, adaptable and never-ending action. Through seeping into cracks and expanding with the frost. Through the quiet, unbeatable strength of atoms. 

My children may not eat a healthy meal every meal, but I continue to work at it. I may be blocked and dammed up at times, but when the water rises high enough, the important things will spill over. Water never stops. Never stops. 

Water spreads everywhere. Water seeks freedom. Always heading down toward the open sea. No matter how turned around, no matter how many barriers. Water always keeps seeking freedom.

I am the river. I am also standing in the river, feeling the water flow all around me. I can catch certain things in the rush. My children, for example. I have caught them many times when they might have been swept away on a tide of consumerist glitz and brain-dead computer games.

Someday I will let them go in the river. And they too will be water. They will go through the rough water and scrape against rocks. Then I will have to hope I have taught them to swim well enough because many drown.

I am the well. There is something deep. I don't want to be the only one who gives food or peace or family harmony or hope. But while I can, I let it be. It seems I must be an endless and inexhaustible source for my children and those around me.

I have railed against it sometimes. But even I know I have to be a well. In a home with small children. In a world with so much need and hopelessness. Each of us must be a well of something, whatever it is we care deeply about. Be the source.

If it is peace you want, be the source. If it is safety or joy or love you want, be the well.

And be well.

Journey into the dark

The path of transformation

"It must be done at the darkest time of the year," the surgeon said. "That is the best hope for safety. And you may go blind anyway."

We all have dreaded words and moments when we feel the winds of the underworld howling around us. These were mine.

Since I was a small child, I always knew my vision impairment was a fact of life. Some of my earliest memories are of lying on a table in a dark room with a huge machine lowered over my face while doctors shown painful, bright lights into my eyes and asked me questions. As I recall, I was obsessed with Strawberry Shortcake dolls at the time and I told them about it... at length.

I was praised for being stoic and tough when it came to the exhausting eye exams, but I never understood why I should be praised. It had to be done. It had to.

For thirty-five years my eyes stayed much the same. There are lucky blind people and I was always one of them. Lucky is having eyes that don't change in disorienting ways.   i was always extremely nearsighted and legally blind. But now my eyes are changing. I am developing cataracts early. 

Everyone knows today that cataract surgery is no big deal though, right?  Well, except for people with "severe myopia." That is very nearsighted people. Now, I'm one of the unluckier of the people with cataracts.

Oh, there is still a surgery for it, but in this case it is high risk.

"Bear in mind that this is a lot like an expedition to discover the north pole," the surgeon, one of the top specialists for cornea surgeries in the country who has also worked at top eye clinics in the US, says

Dear doctor, I hope that isn't supposed to be you being reassuring. 

But the cataracts are progressing and if nothing is done, I won't be able to see much at all eventually. It's a lot like it was when I was a small child undergoing the diagnostic tests. This too must be faced. 

Journeys into the darkness of our own underworld are often put off, avoided, denied or fought against. And usually that struggle makes the journey harder, more abrupt and more terrifying. I know this from other parts of life--the struggle with depression as well as political change.

So, if it must be done and it must be done at the dark of the year to decrease the risk, then it must.

On Monday, I go for the first cataract surgery, which specialists say is high risk and very unpredictable. There is some chance, though a very uncalculatable chance, that I will lose more of my sight. And there is some chance I will see a little better. There is also a significant chance, I'm told, that my eyesight will not improve or entirely fail but will just become disorienting, making me one of the less lucky legally blind people for once. 

A journey into the underworld of the unknown requires a readiness to give up those things we cling to--if necessary--in order to undergo transformation. 

I have thought long and hard about the transformation part. What is it that I can gain by going into the dark? 

There is a chance that I may see more like I did a few years ago, at least for a few more years. I will not be "cured" from the perspective of others, but I can live quite happily in my blurry, magnifying-glass world. 

But there is one thing I desperately want in my life. I want to have purpose. It doesn't have to be some great earth-shaking purpose. I used to dream of being a famous journalist or author. Then I wanted to be a great social justice activist, someone remembered and admired. Finally, I wanted to be a great mother to my children--to bring up children who would have wondrous choices and opportunities. 

I am largely a failure.

When I tell my family this, they say I'm a whiner. And I am.

I'm not a famous author. Boohoo! First world problems, if there ever was one. I'm also not greatly admired among social justice activists. I have done my bits and played a supporting role in some very good causes. I can rest assured that I have made a difference, but no one will ever write me up with the heroes of the struggle to protect the earth and the climate just because I packed food in to Greenpeace treesitters.

And my kids? Okay, they are well fed and clothed, but they struggle with schooling, impulsivity and attention. They still have tantrums at school age, lots of tantrums. They will be like all of us--limited and earth-bound--in the end. I am doing the best I can as a mother but my illusions that by working smart and hard I could be "better" than most of the parents I see working frantically and clumsily around me have largely disintegrated.

Here's my thoughts once my kids turned three: "So that's why those mothers were screaming at their kids. Here I just thought they hadn't read the right parenting books or didn't have the self-discipline to stick to their guns."

Hahahaha! Now I get it.

I'm not a really bad failure. I'm just a failure at all the great dreams I had. And I feel rudderless and purposeless. 

I have been told that great journeys into darkness can yield great transformation. This may well be another of my self delusions. But I have some inkling that this journey into the dark--the physical darkness of temporarily not seeing much at all after the surgery and the inner darkness of fear--may yield something.

If nothing else it may yield something because I will be forced to rest, be still and contemplate. The surgeon has demanded that I do virtually nothing for an entire month.

It seems that just as I am entering the underworld of darkness and fear, the world or at least my native country is going down right along with me. Yes, I am afraid of that too. I have children and they are not entirely white. I am in a country Donald Trump said he wants to put soldiers in. I'm afraid.

And yet I know this cannot be stopped. We tried. 

And remember. It is not Trump who truly caused this plummet into the underworld. It was the fact that so many people have been stifled with hate media, lack of education, anger and disillusionment. When there is sickness, the journey into the dark always comes sooner or later. It is better to ask how we must transform our society than to blame one man who used the wind to fill his sail. 

Let us face the darkness together and come through the transformation. 

The flash of autumn and why we need the cold

That time of year has come when the sun goes down at 2:30 in the afternoon. And I mean behind the ridge, not just behind the trees. It will be that way for more than three months. 

Bohemia, despite its romantic implications, can be a dure and colorless place for a good part of the year. Early fall is often dreary, sodden and greenish brown. Late fall is dreary, sodden and brownish gray--all except for those few days when the color changes and the world is yellow, orange and red. 

Despite the decorations at the preschool, this autumn color show is more like an autumn flash. If you blink, you really may well miss it. 

There are two days of brilliant, flax-yellow sun that slants sidewise across the land piercing your eyes and casting long dangling shadows. The nights are cold, thanks to the clear sky. The colors flash on and then--in what seems like moments--off again.

No more bright color until late April. Hope you enjoyed it.

I stretch out this time by pressing a few of the less trampled leaves between books until they dry. Then I tape them to my windows to remind myself and the world outside of that brief autumn flash. The colors of the dried leaves are not the same anyway though. They are deep golden brown and beet purple, not the colors of the flash. 

Still as much as I love the brief autumn flash and wish it lasted longer and as much as I grieve a bit for the light half of the year, I am also ready for the cold and dark.

If our current danger-fraught climate change teaches us nothing else, it should teach us the value of respite and the natural need for both cold and for inactivity. Sure, there are places on the planet where the natural environment has evolved not to need frost. But the planet as a whole hasn't and in our northern climates, the plants, animals and even the human economy needs this time in order to provide sustenance and abundance at other times. 

I need it. I can't imagine continuing the agricultural and outwardly active summer all year round. While I will be sick of it by March, at the moment I welcome the fact that we will soon be inside most of the time, mending, reading, thinking, writing and recuperating. 

And so, hail the autumn flash. I am ready.