It's All a Bit Reckless, Isn't It
Last week, I facilitated a Beltane gathering with a Turn of the Wheel community, hosted by Jess. Beltane is the Celtic cross-quarter fire festival that is the threshold into the light half of the year, held on May 1st between the Spring Equinox and the Summer Solstice.
There was laughter, as hands made crowns from flowers and ferns and herbs and vines. A quiet, electric hope as we acknowledged the new green shoots taking form in our lives. The kind of magic that emerges when we slow down enough to connect with what is true in this moment, guided by the natural world around us.
Afterward, Jess shared: “I went to bed feeling very, very rich in friendship and community and connection to one another and our nature, and I’m deeply inspired by your openness. Your journeys are all our journeys, aren’t they?”
That is why I offer Turn of the Wheel to the world, to you.
It’s a small, seasonal gathering, four to eight times a year, where we come together to mark the turning points of the Celtic wheel. A practice of sacred timekeeping. A pause. A chance to meet the moment as it is, and to remember ourselves as part of something turning. In the pause, I have found connection, community, and meaning.
Every season is complex, even the more gregarious, outward ones like Beltane. Yes, there is much to celebrate as the world begins to bloom. As the bees buzz between my mock orange and the last daphne blossoms still holding on. As the hummingbird dances between my hot red salvia flowers. As I put my hands into the soil, planting and tending and hoping that what I love will root deep and grow tall into its fullness later this summer.
I murmur prayers over my dahlia tubers as I cover them with dirt. I bless each blueberry baby and fuss over the peony orbs. I water my allium bulbs a little extra hoping their bobbing stalks will become the purple floating spheres I look forward to each year. I protect and I care and I love fiercely, knowing none of it is for sure. Knowing it is all fleeting.
It’s all a bit reckless, isn’t it? Bringing life into this world, held in the container of death?
One of my mom’s favorite days was May 1st - to her a day that marked the beginning of early summer. Before I ever knew what Beltane was, Mom taught me to make May Day baskets out of colorful crepe paper. I would leave them on my neighbor’s front stoop, ring the bell, and run home, exhilarated by the anonymity of it all. By the generosity, the love, the play!
After leaving home, every May 1st a basket of flowers arrived wherever I was. Never signed, but always present.
And now, my second May 1st after my mom’s death, my two sisters-in-law have taken up the tradition. In each basket, each flower crown, each bloom in my garden, my mom is present.
It feels good and it feels terrible.
My heart lifts at the goldfinch song at my feeder, and the wet sand of grief fills my limbs as I lay my body down into the grass. Tears of wonder mix with tears of loneliness.
And that is Beltane too. That is a celebration of life.
Each turning point that we mark in Turn of the Wheel is a threshold that holds all of it: what is ending, what is not yet here, the grief of what was lost, the gratitude for what remains, the celebration of what is blooming.
We hold it all, together, for a little while.
The Summer Solstice awaits us in June. Until then,
May abundance find you this Beltane season.
May what you are tending flourish.
May you know you are not alone.
Bring a Gathering to Your Community
Turn of the Wheel is a practice of sacred timekeeping, a pause to meet the moment as it is and remember ourselves as part of something turning. I provide the framework, the rituals, and the rhythm; you provide the hearth and the community.
I am currently booking gatherings for Litha (the Summer Solstice) in June. If you feel called to host a circle for your own community, contact me here to start the conversation.
