So here it is. A big one! 2019.

New Year’s Day –to– Imbolc

The changing of the calendar year was a hugely transformative time for me. During winter, and after the holidays, I felt myself turning inward in a very much needed way. I experienced a sort of emotional hibernation. And it was during this period, leading up to Imbolc, that I made a series of significant lifestyle changes.

As it turns out, these changes would drastically alter the way that I experience my reality.

♥ I started going to bed at least an hour, sometimes 2 hours, earlier than I had before. I was in bed by 9:30, lights out by 10-10:30.
♥ I was no longer watching TV habitually every night. Now, I mostly just watch TV only on the weekends.
♥ I started waking up half an hour (or more) earlier than I had before. Instead of waking up and jumping into the day and the flurry of getting ready for work/school, now I creep out on my own to the living room and start my day either reading quietly with my coffee, or stretching and exercising. This quiet wakeup time has totally transformed how my days unfold.
♥ I began drinking a quart of water every morning before leaving for work. Starting off strong.
♥ And finally, I began deepening my spiritual practice. I became intentional around honoring moon phases, taking ritual baths, reading and learning the craft, and doing spellwork.

This was a real, true “reset” in my life. By the time Imbolc was coming around I felt like I had had a rebirth.

2019 was off and running.

Imbolc –to– Ostara

The world wakes up . . . but me, not quite yet. 2019 was definitely the year of false starts, and in this twilight period between winter and spring, I was certainly feeling them. Awakening and obscuring, awakening and obscuring, awakening and obscuring. My path had been set before me, but it was a very long time before I found the clarity to walk it.

So during this period I felt like I was in limbo. Maybe even taking two steps back, after my big leap forward at the new year.

Then in Santa Barbara, spring 2019 arrived with a flourish, with more cleansing rain than we’d had in ages. Literally. Southern California officially declared the end of the drought. Everything was alive. The wildflowers were in superbloom and the fire flowers were showing themselves after almost a decade of hiding.

But me? I was still hindered. Caught in a false start.

Ostara –to– Beltane

Finally, in April of 2019, it happened. I broke up with Jeremy.

Clarity. Pain. The bonfires of Beltane burning bright.

This separation was a long, long time coming, and to those who are close to me, it came as no surprise. I had been so unhappy, for so many years, despite all my trying. And I guess I’d just needed the time. To gather my strength. To find the strength to prioritize my own well-being.

In fire there is transformation. This was a period of aching change and razor-edge realization. I wonder if a snake feels pain when it sheds its skin?

But if Ostara was my false start, then the bonfires of Beltane had me regaining my footing, plunging forward, ready to begin anew. And there was never any doubt. Everything was high-resolution, crystalline clarity. I was shedding the skin of another life, of a path not chosen, and it hurt. But it also felt like a giant leap into freedom.

Beltane –to– Litha

I could see the life I wanted. Like a bouquet of spring wildflowers, I knew that I could gather all the precious parts to make a magical, beautiful bouquet of my life. I wasn’t there yet, but for the first time, I could see all the pieces around me, just ready to be picked.

I spent a lot of time alone during this period. On the weekends that I didn’t have Waits, I would often stay shut up in my house for days on end, just reading and cleaning and rearranging furniture. Reclaiming the space.

And I traveled to Hawaii, to Maui, for Damian and Danielle’s wedding. I was so honored to be invited. And I spent 10 days in Maui, mostly all by myself. 10 full days and if I wasn’t hanging with Waits, I was entirely alone. I did a ton of reading. I took long walks collecting beach treasures, and brought them back to build an elaborate altar in my hotel room. I did a lot of magic. And I jumped off volcanic jetties into the ocean, and I swam solo every day, and on my second-to-last day I rented a car and circumnavigated the entire perimeter of the island, the Road to Hana and beyond, traipsing through jungle and discovering rainbow eucalyptus groves and chasing waterfalls and getting lost on lonesome, unpaved, barely-there roads on the backside of the island. All by myself.

Alone alone alone.

There’s a verse in an Amanda Palmer song that goes

“Now I have friends and I’m not such a loser,
but I go to bars all alone and I sit there,
and order red wine and I write,
and I like being alone around people.
Yes that’s how I like it.”

And that’s how late spring of 2019 was for me.

Litha –to– Lammas

Midsummer and life was in full bloom. Finally the sun came to Santa Barbara, chasing away the May Grey and the June Gloom. Finally I could bask in the radiant sun. I felt radiant, too.

I had leapt, and I had landed on both my feet. I felt so firmly planted, rooted into my new life. Tapped into something profound.

I was using the new-start lessons of Imbolc and the brave-leap freedom of Beltane, and I was living life on my own terms. I was living the life that I wanted.

My parenting game was on point, and my relationship with Waits just continued to blossom and deepen. My career was thriving as well, bringing me creative outlets, opportunity to learn and grow, and a financial security I had never dared to dream of. And I was pouring myself into my magical practice, and my friendships, and my garden. It was a summer of abundance, where finally, my “cup” didn’t feel like it was always running on empty.

I felt fullness.

Finally.

Lammas –to– Mabon

I had experienced summer in full technicolor. I dyed my hair the color of citrine, of sunflowers, of bee pollen. I was golden.

We had our annual family reunion in Northern California. We camped in the redwoods and I felt at home there. Up on the Lost Coast, it’s perpetually rainy and everything feels alive and it always smells of petrichor. I found comfort amongst those giants

And I travelled to Denver, to visit dear friends. Another trip forged on my own. It was a long weekend of vegan brunches and afternoon microbrews and home-cooked feasts and corn mazes and nostalgic television and walking an adolescent puppy all over every inch of downtown Denver. It was precious companionship with two of my very favorite humans, but also — it was independence. I felt so single, on that trip. So completely of my own person.

When I got back, Waits started school. And soccer season. And we went skating every single weekend we were together.

And when I didn’t have Waits, I was still hermiting myself away. I was utterly reclusive; all through spring and summer I had been basking in solitude. It’s all I had wanted, all the way up until the exact moment that I didn’t.

One day I woke up and I was ready to rejoin the world. Just in time for autumn.

Mabon –to– Samhain

So fall 2019 was all dating and mating. I discovered — and dove headlong — into the strange and foreign world of online dating apps. Tinder and Her, and a local community. I’ve basically been collecting stories ever since.

My friends and I make up silly monikers for all my trysts. There was The Ginger Tree (6’7″, red-bearded). There was Porch Date and Awkward Hang Glider and Culver Girl and The Winemaker and Katherine-Not-Catherine. And the Punk Rock Lawyer.

I was having lots of fun. And then, a few days before Samhain, my 93 year old grandmother passed away. It wasn’t unexpected, and truth be told she had been wanting to die for a long time. For years even. She had been praying for it.

So I was grateful for her sake that her suffering had ended. But still — it’s always painful, and deeply unsettling, to confront mortality. To get up close with Death. And of course, it’s so heartbreaking to have to say goodbye. This was Waits’s first funeral, and he insisted on being there. He loved her. And I’m so glad he was there, for her and for him and for me. For all of us.

Sex and death. Samhain season.

Samhain –to– Yule . . . & Beyond

Everyone tells me I’m glowing. That I have a joie de vivre positively radiating out of me.

2019 has been good to me, and it’s written all over my attitude. I feel rooted, solid, steadfast and strong. Just perfectly present in this life.

So much so that when my boss went in to labor 5 weeks early, plunging me headlong into the crisis of running the entire Intro Bio program with no plan in place and a million fires to put out and a million leaks to plug and other wreckage-evoking metaphors, well, I was able to step into leadership with calm and grace. A parry here, a redirect there, and a creative solution to keep everything afloat. I’m running the show now, at least for the foreseeable future, and the show must go on. It’s going on. And it’s good.

I don’t know that I would have been able to do that, to step into authority with such confidence and ease, even just a year ago. I’ve grown so much in 2019.

False starts. Spring showers. Fireguilding. Solitude. Technicolor. Transformation. Sex and Death. Strength.

2019 has been a true journey, and one I wouldn’t trade for anything. Because now, as this last post on Bonzai Aphrodite auto-pushes to publication, I find myself off on a peregrine adventure. Vesper and I will be chasing the sun, chasing possibility, chasing our wildest dreams, van-camping and surfing and wanderlusting our way through Baja, to celebrate the New Year under the stars on a remote beach on the Sea of Cortez, in who-knows-where, Mexico.

And who knows where we’ll go?

And who knows what 2020 will bring?

More adventure, I say! More travel. More challenge. More resilience. More sex. More laughter. (and tears.) More hurt. More hope. More love.

I welcome all of it, I welcome the good and I welcome the bad, and everything in between. All the soaring peaks and all the stinging valleys. I welcome all that life brings. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because that’s how you know that the wheel is still turning.





I love you all, forever and always. Thank you for 10+ years of adventuring alongside me.

I’ll see you ’round the internet!

♥
~Sayward
(@sayward on Instagram)

On the winter solstice, we celebrate Yule!

Yule is the first day of winter — and the shortest day of the year. It’s also my very favorite holiday, and one I’ve written about quite a bit on the blog: 2016 here, 2013 here, and 2010 here.

I think I’m so drawn to Yule because unlike so many other celebrations, it’s not all fluff and fantasy. The winter solstice doesn’t just focus on joy and light and goodness. In this way, it is actually the opposite of almost every other holiday (especially the western ones).

Yule recognizes the profound duality of life: the lightness and the dark, the joy and the sadness, the abundance and the loss. Yule is a time to pause in honor of all thats’s good, while also holding space for pain.

I always invite me melancholy to our solstice celebration. It belongs there.

Sometimes it helps to imagine the Wheel of the Year as representing the course of one entire life.

Imbolc would be the quickening inside the belly, the seed planted and beginning to grow. Then Ostara is the birth, the toddling, and the innocence of childhood. Come Beltane we reach puberty, and sexual exploration. Then Litha, the summer solstice, is maturity: life in full bloom. The Maiden has become lover, and will soon become Mother.

The harvest festivals mark the latter part of a lifespan. Lammas is parenthood, the fruits of labor all around us, to toil over and to enjoy — in equal parts. By Mabon, things are beginning to slow down. There is a quieting. The mother kisses her babes goodby, and settles into her final place: as Crone. Samhain is the celebration that honors death, without fear or remorse. Death is a part of life. The wheel turns us all.

And thus the wheel turns towards Yule: the darkest hour. Post-death, and pre-birth. The quiet unknown.

Every year, my godparents mark the Winter Solstice with a small gathering of close friends and family. We celebrate outdoors in the mountains above Santa Barbara, and right at sunset, my godfather makes fire the old fashioned way, using a bow drill and a ball of palm tinder. We all take turns blowing on the tinder, using our collective breath to build the spark into a flame.

Fire is life. Even in the quiet unknown, there is always a spark.

After we make fire, we write down our intentions for the coming year, and toss them into the flames. Transmutation.

And we always read the same poem — Wild Geese by Mary Oliver, and I always cry, every single time.

And then we feast!

And so it has been, for as long as I can remember. My favorite holiday.

And you, my dears.

However you celebrate Yule (or not!), I hope that you’ll maybe take a moment to *pause* on the winter solstice. To invite your melancholy to belly up to the bar alongside you, to sit with the sadness and the darkness for a spell. Maybe nod your head at them. Maybe even give them a hug. Because they’re a part of life — an important one.

The wheel turns us all.

Happy Yule!

On the Autumn Equinox, we celebrate Mabon!

♥ 12 + 12 ♥

Mabon marks the Autumnal Equinox, when darkness and light are in absolute balance. The day has exactly as many hours as the night, and in this moment, harmony rules the universe. After this, the scales will tip.

Mabon is the second, and center, of the three major harvest festivals. It’s a little more somber than Lammas, as now there’s no denying that the season is in full flux. The cool air that greets you in the early mornings. The state of gardens and meadows and parks across town, all drooping dried plants and fallen fruit. And the light that’s slicing harsher across the horizon, casting everything is contrast of brightness and shadow. It’s beautiful, but ominous.

Because Mabon reminds us that winter is coming. After this festival, the days will be shorter than the nights. Darkness returns, and will continue to grow, all the way until we crest the Winter Solstice at Yule. So, this is a time of fortification. Battening down the hatches, if you will. We harvest and prepare, we reap and we preserve. It’s time to start stockpiling, both literally and metaphorically, so that we’ll be able to make it through the winter.

For the second time this year, the sun moves across the celestial equator — this time heading south. The sun, our incredible celestial life-giver from no less than 92 million miles away, has almost completed her annual journey. And on this day, on Mabon, she will rise at exactly due east, and she will set directly due west. On the equinoxes, I’m always reminded that you don’t need to believe in gods or goddesses, or an all-knowing universe, or anything else supernatural, to appreciate the exquisite symmetry of this moment. The natural is super enough. Teeming with chaos, random and massive and at times so overwhelming, and yet still, always — dependably and reliably — in perfect alignment.

And my goodness, I think that’s something to celebrate.

Mabon, the Autumn Equinox, has been recognized and celebrated by almost every culture across the world for as long as humans have been looking at stars. This year, the equinox falls on March 23rd. Some suggestions for celebrating in modern day include:

♥ Work in the garden. Gather and dry herbs, turn the soil, spread mulch. Focus on harvesting, fortifying, and amending types of tasks. ♥

♥ Make magic around unfinished business, both practical and spiritual. Clean your physical space. Tie up loose ends and complete lingering projects. Kondo your house and have a garage sale! Get your affairs in order. ♥

♥ For cooking: harvest bounty like apples, squash, corn, bread, autumn veggies, and baked goods.
For drinking: red wine, mulled cider, dark fruity drinks. ♥

♥ Reflect back on your year: are you reaping what you tried to sow? On Imbolc, when the world is still quiet, we set our intentions for the coming year. And then, on Ostara, we began to turn those aspirations into real action.

So, looking back, how did you do? It’s not too late to make a change . . . ♥





The candles burn. The days shorten. The seasons turn.

However you celebrate Mabon (or not!), I wish you a fall filled with coziness and cuddles, warm drinks and full bellies, gratitude and friendship and laughter and love. Happy Autumnal Equinox!

On August 1st, we celebrate Lammas!

Lammas, or Lughnasadh, is the first of the three pagan harvest festivals. Although the names “Lammas” and “Lughnasadh” are often used interchangeably, their origins are actually quite distinct. Lammas, literally translated to “loaf mass” in reference to the first reaping of wheat and thus the baking of bread, is a Saxon holiday. Lughnasadh, on the other hand, is named for Lugh, Irish god of craftsmanship, and is Gaelic in origin. But both are harvest festivals traditionally held at the same time of the year, and therefor they share many celebratory characteristics.

Personally, I do not worship gods (or goddesses), so I prefer to call my holiday Lammas. But many modern witches prefer Lughnasadh, and many others just use the two names interchangeably.

Whatever you choose to call it, the first harvest is a profound celebration; we joyfully revel in food and feasting, while weaving in timely themes of hope, sacrifice, and trust.

Because Lammas is a bittersweet time. We are at the height of summer, the most beautiful time of the year. The garden is abundant, the days are long and the sun is ever bright, ever warming. Our days are spent basking in this moment of perfection, but at the same time we know . . . it’s all fleeting.



It may not feel like it yet, but the days are already beginning to shorten. Darkness is returning. Lammas marks the halfway point between the summer solstice and the autumn equinox, so in these last glorious days of summer, we celebrate our harvest — but we also must be prudent. Now is the time to gather grain and save seed. This summer won’t last forever.

Lammas altars are decorate with sunflowers and other orange flowers, wheat and oak, corn dollies, onion garlands, and other images or objects related to the harvest. Seasonal activities follow suit, and include brewing beer or wine, baking breads or sweet pastries, and other kitchen magic. Spellwork focuses on themes of abundance and prosperity, connection to loved ones or settling disputes, and mental or physical gains.

Some fun and modern ideas for celebrating Lammas include:

♥ Do a full house cleansing or blessing. You can use smoke, vapor, or sound (bells or chimes work great). ♥

♥ Make corn dollies! This is especially great to do with kids — Waits and I made corn dollies for our altar this year, and he loved it. Some people bury their corn dolly in their garden during Samhain, and others keep their dolly for a full year, then burn it and make a new one next Lammas. As always, do whatever feels right for you. ♥

♥ Gather wild berries, then bake them into a pie. Make kitchen magic! ♥

♥ Try brewing your own beer or making your own blackberry or elderberry wine. ♥

♥ The Perseid Meteor Shower happens every year between mid-late July and early-mid August, which means it’s always raining falling stars for Lammas! Find out where you can see the Perseids, and go out searching for a shooting star to wish upon. ♥

♥ Build (or rebuild) a handmade broom. ♥

♥ Braid onion garlands. ♥

♥ Make a wicker man. Then make a bonfire, and burn it! ♥

♥ For Cooking: Hearty grains, baked goods, cornbread, blackberries, potatoes, popcorn. ♥
♥ For Drinking: Beer, blackberry wine, elderflower cordial, mint or cucumber water, mojitos. ♥

However you celebrate Lammas or Lughnasadh (or don’t!), my wish is that you’ll carry with you the spirit of hope as we move into the darker days of autumn. That you’ll notice the way the earth makes her seasonal sacrifice, and find a way to honor that sacrifice. And, that you’ll allow yourself to revel in these last lingering glory days of summer. Because goodness, they’re good!

On the summer solstice, we celebrate Litha!

Litha is the first day of summer — the longest day of the year! On this day, the life-giving sun is strongest over the powers of darkness. Litha is a time for light magic, honoring:

LOVE :: LUCK :: ABUNDANCE :: ENERGY.

By the time the summer solstice comes, all the seeds have been planted. The stage is set. Summer is here! Litha celebrates the precious moment of pause, between those early tender spring crops, and the coming bounty of the summer harvest. Look for butterflies, bees, and birds. Honor your pets.

Litha is feast and fulfillment.

Litha is health and healing.

Litha is light, love, and luck!

Often, pagans decorate their Litha altars with flowers, fruit, and images or objects related to the sun. Traditional celebrations include lighting bonfires on hilltops and then rolling burning wheels down the hillsides, to represent sun. Maybe not practical in modern times, but fun to imagine nevertheless!

For a more manageable celebration, you could try:

♥ Make “solar water” by leaving a jug of water out in the sunlight, all day. ♥

♥ Make sun tea. ♥

♥ “Solarize” your crystals by giving them a bath in the sunlight. ♥

♥ Do yoga or take a walk at sunrise or sunset. ♥

♥ Make sun catchers. ♥

♥ Honor the bees by putting out dishes of water, or buying some bee-friendly plants/flowers for your yard. ♥

♥ Eat berries. Make jam! ♥

♥ Make a flower mandala. ♥

♥ Read or watch A Midsummer’s Night Dream. ♥

Last year on Litha, me and all my witchy women were so very busy with our kids and careers and very, very grown-up things. Such is the way of life, sometimes. We weren’t able to make a whole party of it, but we did meet on the beach at dusk. I brought sunflowers and golden pilar candles. We sacrificed an entire bottle of wine to cast a circle, then we called the corners and thanked the light.

Then, we lit our candles and made wishes as we leapt over them.

However you celebrate Litha (or not!), I hope that you’ll get some extra time outside in the coming days. I hope you’ll stop to stand still in the sunlight, to *pause* your very, very grown up things, if only for a moment.

Soak it up.

On the first day of May, we celebrate Beltane!

Beltane is a springtime festival of optimism, union, and community. Beltane marks the beginning of the pastoral season — literally putting the animals out to pasture — and this holiday has its origins in a simple series of rituals to safeguard the livestock, crops, and home.

Fire is often used in these rituals, as a symbol of protection.

The bonfires of Beltane are powerfully protective, and they’re also harbingers of good fortune. Pagans used to jump over the bonfires to bring blessings, luck, and fertility. Traditionally, all household fires are extinguished, and then re-lit using a torch from the Beltane bonfire. Once the bonfire was completely out, the ashes were rubbed into the skin, and sprinkled over the crops.

Legend has it that fairies are especially active during Beltane, and children may leave gifts of food and sweet drink out in the garden, as offerings for the fae.

The early morning dew of Beltane is also rumored to hold enchantment. Women collect the dew at dawn, and drink it or splash it on their faces to purify their spirit, and maintain their health and youthfulness.

The elderly would also visit holy wells on this day, and pray for health while walking “sunwise” (east to west) around the well.

Ultimately, Beltane is a Celebration of Union.

One way to understand the wheel of the year is to think of it as representing a complete life. Gestation leads up to Imbolc, when the earth is still covered in snow — but hope is on the horizon. Imbolc would then mark the birth. Childhood follows, and passes through Ostara, the beginning of springtime. Spring is for children: for newness and for tender-footed exploration. But come Beltane, the days are long and warm and lush. The youngsters have blossomed into sexual maturity. This is a night for lovers.

Thus, Beltane celebrates union, and the union of all love. The coming together of creative energies makes Beltane a perfect time for vows, marriages, and commitments of all kinds — including friendships!

Beltane is a diverse holiday built of many disparate themes and rituals. Which means there are many ways you can celebrate, in these modern times! Here are a few of my favorite ideas for bringing Beltane’s spirit into your own busy life:

♥ Make a bonfire outdoors. Ideally you would use your old Yule tree, or some other wood that was felled in the previous year. ♥

♥ Make a May Pole! This is a very traditional, non-denominational “May Day” event, so look to your local community for an open-to-the-public May Pole celebration. Alternately, you can decorate your own “May Bush” by writing wishes on ribbons and tying them to a tree, bush, or fence. ♥

♥ Adorn doors and windows with yellow flowers, to invite in good luck. ♥

♥ Collect the early morning dew from your yard or garden, and drink it or use it to cleanse your face. I highly recommend this! ♥

♥ Find a well, spring, pool, or pond, and circle it sunwise while thinking of good health. ♥

♥ Make plates of offerings to appease naughty fairies — they like sweet things! This is a great one to do with your kiddos. ♥

♥ For cooking: oatmeal, milk, spring greens, and cherries. ♥
♥ For drinking: fruity red or pink wine. ♥






Last year on Beltane, we all wrote our wishes on ribbons — wishes related to their color correspondences — and tied them to my front yard fence. The next morning when I opened my door to leave for work, I was greeted with those ultra-bright colors, fluttering in the wind. That morning, and every single morning since, they have been there to remind me of that night. Of love and friendship, of wishes and magic, of connection to my dearest people and to my precious earth. Every day, a little kiss from Beltane’s spirit.

Wherever and whoever you are, however you celebrate (or not!), I wish for you the same sweet kiss. May your connections be strong, and may all your wishes come true.

Happy Beltane!

It’s a bit of a long one, and tangential too, but please bear with me because this story encapsulates basically everything I love about being a random lump of flesh floating on a green rock in outer space, about this beautiful Universe, about happenstance and coincidence and chances, about synchronicity and everything sacred, and also, about really nothing at all.

It’s about how my little family ended up traipsing across the wild and desolate California desert, in the middle of literal nowhere, following one of my wildest dreams and hunting for 26-million-year-old crystals. I don’t believe in fate, not for one second. But I do believe that we all have the power to drive forward into our own fantastical futures.

So here’s the story of how I drove us into this one. And it starts on an airplane, in 2013, with this really annoying businessman who kept buying rounds of drinks for the entire row . . .




LA to Portland. It was a late-night flight. He’d probably already had a few in the airport bar. I was excited, returning to Portland for the first time since I’d moved away, and for the Vida Vegan blogging conference no less. I was in for a week of old friends and new friends and great food and so much fun, so even though I’m antisocial by nature (introvert power!), on this particular flight I was feeling a bit chatty. I was seated on the aisle, then in the center seat was a woman, and then next to her at the window was our libatious benefactor. He just kept buying rounds. So we chatted.

The woman. Kim. She’s hard to describe. Kim is VERY intense. Kim has opinions and you’re going to hear them. And she’s a real badass. Of the “No, I REALLY don’t care what you think of me” variety. And you know she means it. At the time, she was working overnight security on the Metro, Portland’s public transit system. Basically, Kim is fuckin’ metal.

We talked all the way to Portland. Don’t ask me why. I never talk to people on planes. Never. Like, as a policy (introvert power!). But something was different that night. I talked with Kim, and sort of with Drunky McDrunkersons, for the whole flight. And by the time we were landing, she and I were becoming Facebook friends. Another thing I just don’t do.

My sister picked me up at the airport, and I went off on my merry way. I never saw Kim again. That was 2013, remember.

But Kim and I stayed Facebook friends for 5 whole years. I followed along with her life and she followed along with mine. We shared a lot of the same politics, and she’s very outspoken. I appreciated that. So even though we’d only met the once, she somehow made it past all of my [many] Facebook friend purges. 5 years!

And somewhere along the way, Kim began posting handmade jewelry. By then she had moved out to Las Vegas, and she was learning how to silversmith — making her own jewelry. And she was fitting the pieces with crystals that she had mined herself, in the desert.

I was enthralled.

Then, one day in February, 2018, Kim posted some photos of these deep purple amethyst clusters that she had collected the day before. I commented on the photos, asking where she found them. “A mountain,” she said. “I can’t say where …”

I replied that I understood, it was just such a dream of mine. Maybe someday. And to my total shock she responded “You can totally come with us! You just can’t put the location on social media.”

Oh my god.

That was in February, and it just so happened that we were deep in the process of planning our Spring Break Desert Road Trip for the end of March. With a little reconfiguring, we might actually be able to make that happen.

Oh my god.




And that’s how it came to be. This thing, that I never in my wildest dreams thought was possible. It actually happened.

That March, Waits and Jeremy and I woke up at dawn in a strange, surreal little truck stop/casino on the California-Nevada border. Our trunk was stuffed with pick axes and shovels and Gatorade, just as Kim had instructed.

We met her, and her husband Brandy, in the parking lot. A reunion after 5 years. And then we were off, caravanning into the desert, to a secret location. To a mountain. In the middle of absolutely nowhere.

We had to hike for miles just to get to the right place. Carrying everything.

Waits was such a trooper. It was a full day of work, dawn to dusk. Hiking and digging, it was aching work under the relentless desert sun. No shade, no respite.

And we loved every single second of it.

It’s hard to describe the majesty and the magic that I felt out there. Absolute quiet. Heat like a heavy blanket. Screaming muscles. Stillness. Standing shoulder-deep in a vein, covered in dust and sweat and sticky prickly plants, broken fingernails and scraped skin reaching deeper into the earth. Wrapping my fingers around something so pure and precious, 26 million years in the making.

It was so powerful. Indescribably powerful. Transcendent.

So, that’s my story.

I never would have imagined, when I accepted that drink from that annoying businessman and started talking to the loud, no-bullshit lady next to me, that the story would have led me to this day.

You just never know. You just never, ever know.

On the Vernal Equinox, we celebrate Ostara!

Ostara marks the Spring (Vernal) Equinox, when darkness and light are in harmony. The day has exactly as many hours as the night, and for this one perfect period, there is balance in the universe.

♥ 12 + 12 ♥

Ostara also means that spring is here! The sun gains strength and is showing herself more and more every day. The sun — our incredible celestial life-giver from no less than 92 million miles away — has been traveling on her annual journey, slowly moving north along the ecliptic. And on this day, on Ostara, she will set exactly and directly due west. And I can’t help but think that you don’t need to believe in magick or gods or goddesses, or anything else supernatural, to appreciate the exquisite symmetry of this moment. The natural is super enough, all on its own. Impossibly big and yet still, always — dependably and reliably — in perfect alignment.

If nothing else, I think that’s something to celebrate.

Ostara celebrates fertility and rebirth. It’s the time for the intentions we set on Imbolc to turn into A C T I O N.

The equinox marks the official first day of spring, and everything around us is coming to life. The last of the winter snow has melted, and in its place the world is greening. Buds have emerged from long-bare branches. The crocus are pushing up through the earth, and seedlings dot the landscape. If you stop to listen, you may hear the return of birdsong in the air.

If we imagine the Wheel of the Year as representing the course of one life, then Ostara is the birth! This is a festival of fertility in celebration of spring, which is why the symbols of the egg and the hare belong to Ostara — to the goddess Eostre — and long predate the Christian Easter holiday.

Ostara has been celebrated in many ways by people of many faiths, for many many centuries. It is perhaps the most universal of the pagan holidays, which means you can adapt it in whatever way strikes your fancy. This year, the equinox falls on March 20th. Some suggestions for celebrating in modern day include:

♥ Reconnect with nature. Take a walk outdoors with no other purpose than just to be in the natural world. ♥

♥ Plant new spring seeds. If you weren’t able to do this on Imbolc, then Ostara is the perfect opportunity to get started on your garden. ♥

♥ For cooking: spring greens or herbs, edible flowers, violet jelly, sprouts, and seeds. (We made veggie risotto and spring asparagus!)
For drinking: sweet wine, warm milk, and flower tea. (We drank French rosé and champagne!) ♥

♥ Ostara is also a wonderful time for “flower divination”. Go to a field (in warmer climates) or visit a florist (in colder climates), and select a flower that speaks to you. Then, take that flower home and learn about what it symbolizes. The flower that you choose, and the magical meaning behind it, will reveal your inner thoughts and emotions . . . because Ostara is the perfect time to get in touch with those inner thoughts and emotions. ♥

In my own life, last year’s Ostara was a very special night. It was the first of the sabbats that we celebrated as a complete coven — we were joined by our fourth!

Four women, four seasons, four corners of the earth. It felt so powerful to finally be practicing in totality.




Our ritual lasted for hours, while our children played late into the night. We built a giant group altar, cast and burnt and built and cried, connected deeply to each other and to ourselves. We did big magic that night. Big magic.




I love this photo. I love the look on Ingrid’s face as she lights a candle and asks for something so, so difficult to speak. I relate to that look. I know that look.

And I love the look on Jennie’s face, just flush with absolute love in that same moment.

God I love this photo.





The candles burn. The nights shorten. The seasons turn.

However you celebrate Ostara (or not!), I wish you a spring of warmth and light, the birth of new beginnings and a season full of love. Happy Vernal Equinox!

On February Eve, we celebrate Imbolc!

Imbolc (pronounced ihm-bulk or ihm-bulg) is the festival of Midwinter, beginning on the evening of January 31st and continuing on though February 2nd. If we imagine the Wheel of the Year as representing the course of one life, then Imbolc — translated from Old Irish as “in belly” — is that peaceful, hopeful period of gestation. Pre-Awakening. Pre-Sprout. Pre-birth.

This time of year, the earth is still asleep under the heavy blanket of winter. But come February Eve, we begin to feel something stirring. Thus, Imbolc is simultaneously a meditation on the stillness and quiet of the barren season, while also preparing to welcome in the new life of springtime.

Deep underground, the tiniest root-buds gently strain against the thinning walls of the seeds that surround them.

Snuggled safely in burrows and nests and dens, bellies swell as the babes inside begin their quickening.

Metamorphosis is everywhere, invisible but universal. Imbolc is the time to ready ourselves for the journey ahead.

In that spirit of preparation, this is a holiday centered around purification and cleansing. It’s a good time to hunker down and figure out what you really want. Make a giant list, build a vision board, or draw the dream you wish to manifest. Focus on concrete plans, but do whatever it takes to find your inspiration. Because Imbolc is the perfect time to take charge of your life!

Imbolc is called “Midwinter” but here in southern California, spring is already showing itself. Last year, I was grateful to be able to dress my altar with fresh flowers and herbs that I gathered around town, along with the more traditional elements of snow/salt, seeds, and milk.

One of my favorite things about practicing witchcraft is that the rules are bendy and blurry and pretty much open to your own intuition. So, you can mark the holiday in whatever way speaks to you. However, traditional themes around Imbolc include:

♥ Breaking bread with friends ♥
♥ Honoring hearth and home (anything from protection magic to simple spring cleaning) ♥
♥ Divination (watch for omens) ♥
♥ Dressing and blessing candles, or any kind of candle magic ♥
♥ Taking a Ritual Bath. (In ancient Ireland, sacred wells were visited during Imbolc, and water from the wells was used to bless the home, the family, and the fields) ♥

In Neo-Druidity, Imbolc is considered the “Women’s Holiday”, and ruled by the divine feminine. Imbolc is the time when new witches are initiated into the coven. This seemed especially relevant to me last year, as Imbolc was the first gathering of what has become my own little coven of magic-making women. As I said in my last post, my only real New Year’s Resolution of 2018 was to create tradition and community around the 8 pagan sabbats.

Imbolc was the first.

We make our own traditions. On February 1st last year, I arrived to pick Waits up from school, and found him carrying a pink plastic flamingo. He told me that his school was going to throw it out, and he couldn’t bear the thought of it going to waste, so he’d rescued it. He named it Reggie. And he asked if Reggie could be part of our Imbolc celebration.

Well . . . why not?

We make our own traditions, and now forevermore our Imbolc will include Reggie, the Imbolc Flamingo, centerpiece of our party. Reggie calls to mind midsummer’s sticky heat. Florida-hot beachy bright days. A perfect compliment to the bite and the bluster of midwinter. In this way, Reggie reminds us that there is always balance.




Are you feeling excited to organize your own Imbolc gathering? This year February 1st just so happens to fall on a Friday — the perfect day for a party! So, here are some of my favorite ideas (some traditional, some non-traditional) to bring a little Imbolc spirit into your modern Midwinter celebration:

1) Burn a candle in every room of your home, to clear out negativity, and to call in the light of spring.

2) Smash a geode! This one is super family-friendly. Kids love it, and your own inner child will love it as well. Geodes are a beautiful metaphor for the Earth in winter — barren on the outside, but bursting with beauty right beneath the surface. Let that beauty out! *Smash* *Smash* *Smash* It’s so fun! (Pro-tip, put your geode in an old sock before going at it with a hammer. That way when it breaks, the pieces won’t go flying.) I bought my geodes at my local metaphysical shop, but you can order them online too. This kit from National Geographic looks really cool!

3) Plant new spring seeds! Start your seedlings inside, and remember that even when the world is cold, we can always nurture new hope with a little bit of light and a little bit of love. Keep your seedlings in a warm spot under a sunny window. (For more on starting seeds indoors, check out this series I did ages ago, here and here and here.)

4) Cooking: food with friends, especially something with seeds, something with peppers, anything bright or spicy, or something with onions, leeks, or garlic. I made mixed pepper tacos, and my friend Jennie made kitchari which was beautiful and delicious and I didn’t take any pictures of it, booo. Drinking: full-bodies white or spicy red wine. We shared a bottle of dark, peppery syrah, and it was perfectly rich and warming on a midwinter night.

5) Pulling tarot, throwing bones, or reading tea leaves (any type of divination).

6) Taking a ritual cleansing bath. I gave my friends each a bottle of Florida Water at the end of our celebration, and sent them off to take their own ritual baths. I love Florida Water for cleansing, blessing, and protecting (you can find it at any botánica, or most metaphysical shops) (this is the one I use), and it seems especially appropriate for an Imbolc ritual bath. Florida Water is named for the fountain of youth — perhaps the most sacred of Sacred Wells, I’d say!

Create family traditions around the 8 sabbats: Imbolc, Ostara, Beltane, Litha, Lughnasadh, Mabon, Samhain, and Yule. Include the coven and close friends. Create community. 8 parties this year!

It was an ambitious goal, but for the most part, I was totally successful! 2018 was the year that my magical practice fully bloomed and rooted. It feels so deeply ingrained in my everyday life, now. And as I’ve finally begun to feel more comfortable sharing this part of myself (mostly on Instagram stories), I’ve gotten so many private messages from others out there, on a similar magical journey . . . or wanting to be!

Which makes a lot of sense. One of the reasons I’ve always been drawn to witchcraft, is because of the way I feel that it connects me to the natural rhythms of the earth. Now granted, there are a million ways to be a witch, and mine is just one of them. But I think this sense of connection is calling to a lot of people, these days.

In my own practice, I am a secular solitary green witch, which means that my craft is based around natural cycles: the monthly waxing and waning of the moon, the slow but steady changing of the seasons, or even the daily passage of the sun, from dawn into dusk. Attuning myself to these natural rhythms bring me a profound sense of connection. It helps to settle the existential angst that’s otherwise always humming softly in the background of my mind. We are each of us small and insignificant, yes — but we are also intimately woven into something unimaginably large and exquisitely beautiful. What a gift!

And that’s why witches celebrate The Wheel of the Year. To remind us of this.

Imbolc — February 1st(ish) — Mid-Winter
“First light in the dark of winter”

Ostara — March 20(ish) — Vernal (Spring) Equinox
“Spring’s arrival”

Beltane — May 1(ish) — May Day
“The fertile earth”

Litha — June 21(ish) — Summer Solstice
“The longest day of the year”

Lughnasadh — August 1(ish) — First Harvest
“Abundance between lightness and dark”

Mabon — September 21(ish) — Autumn Equinox
“The harvest is home”

Samhain — October 31(ish) — Final Harvest
“The witches New Year”

Yule — December 21(ish) — Winter Solstice
“The shortest day of the year”

I’m planning to do a series of posts about the Wheel of the Year, and how I celebrate each of these 8 sabbats, over the course of 2019. I’m so very excited to share them with you!

Lots of Love,
~Sayward