The Threshold of Beltane

As the wheel turns to Beltane, we cross a threshold lit by fire and fertility—
where desire meets devotion, and the sacred masculine and feminine spiral toward union.

This is the season of becoming wildly, wholly alive.
Of softening into the body. Of listening with the whole of our being.

The Spiral Path Within

The labyrinth is not a maze to be solved—
it is a path to be walked.
A winding way that draws us inward,
petal by petal,
breath by breath,
toward the quiet knowing at the center of our being.

Unlike the linear striving of the world,
the labyrinth teaches us to soften.
To listen.
To move at the pace of presence.

Each step becomes a prayer.
Each turn a moment of surrender.
This is not about the destination, but about the deepening.

Tending the Temple

To walk the labyrinth is to tend the temple within—
to sweep the thresholds of our heart,
to light the flame of devotion,
to gather the scattered pieces of ourselves
and return them home.

And just as we tend the sacred soil of our inner sanctum,
we are called to care for the spaces around us:

• the altars we build with stone and flower
  
• the homes we keep
  
• the land we walk
  
• the relationships we root
  

Inner and outer. Seen and unseen. Spirit and soil.
All part of the same great weaving.

Sacred Reciprocity

Let this Beltane be an honoring of that sacred reciprocity—
the alchemical marriage of soul and body,
breath and earth,
love and life itself.

A Transmission From the Center

I wrote the following piece in 2017, during a season of deep inner listening.
It poured through me as a transmission—one that still echoes with truth.
A remembrance. A return.

May these words find you in the liminal light of this moment,
and lead you gently inward—into the seat of the soul,
the bliss body, where the Lover and Beloved dwell as one.

What Was Written Then…

Tending Sacred Space (originally written in 2017)

If I only ever remember three things
from all that I've learned over the years
in relation to creating and tending sacred space,
it would be these:

Everything is sacred.
Have an intention.
Be grateful.

These simple phrases allow me to create a container
that is both strong and yielding.
Light and dark.
Known and mysterious.
Present and ancient.

These truths give me permission to hold space
in whatever way is needed in the moment.

I don't need incense or candles to open a circle.
Sacred tools are beautiful allies—
they help set the mood and clear a space—
but they aren't the space.

The circle exists whether or not
my favorite crystals or divine feminine imagery are present.

This knowing liberates me
from rigid ideas of what sacred space should be—
and how I should tend it.

It also offers accessibility.
Because I now understand
that I don’t need to be consumed with outward appearances
or the trappings of ritual.

Everything is sacred—
even this computer I'm typing on.

It is sacred because it is my intention for it to be so.
It is also my intention
for this tiny space of technology
to share in a timeless web
of connection and gratitude.

Thank you for meeting me here.

The Labyrinth

I have a story to share with you.

It has no beginning and no end,
but it holds many layers—
many of which you may never know.

Still, it is worth telling.

Many years ago,
I helped create a beautiful labyrinth
on sacred land in my town.

People from all over came together
to lay down stones
and breathe life into the labyrinth.

I was a new mother—ripe with life.
I remember wearing a vintage strawberry print skirt,
green sparkly fairy wings, and my baby
as I helped build the labyrinth.

It was a hot and humid August afternoon in Georgia.
Magic and sweat poured from my body,
anointing the earth with prayers
and unspoken vows of support—
vows that would forever bind me
to her,
to this sacred and holy space.

Many years passed.
I continued to visit the labyrinth,
clearing branches from her circles,
replacing stones that had rolled out of place.

She always held an ancient and holy presence.
Even when I was far from her,
she nourished my soul.

She felt like a sacred witness—
keeper of secrets,
asking nothing in return
but that I tend the land and form she occupied.

The Proposal

One day, my love and I went to walk the labyrinth together,
as we had done before.

It was Fat Tuesday.

Surrounded by the tall trees
and the sounds of the Middle Oconee River,
the power emanating from the labyrinth was palpable.

As we sat in the labyrinth’s inner sanctum,
amidst the crystals and stones,
the love of my life asked for my hand in marriage.

Layers upon layers of stories and tears
washed over me
as I sat in the center of the labyrinth,
receiving one of the greatest gifts of my life.

Again, she bore sacred witness to us—
holding space in the most loving container
I could imagine
for such a monumental life moment.

Sacred Reciprocity

Can it be possible
that the sacred spaces we tend
actually tend us in return?

And if so...
whose idea was it to begin with?

Maybe I’ll never truly know the answer.

But what I do know is this:

Intention and gratitude
are at the center of my soul’s labyrinth.

These feelings create a bridge—
between myself
and the spaces I tend.

An open channel
where energy is both given and received.

A place where everything is steeped
in layers of sacredness and intelligence.

A place where everything is divine—
and all I have to do
is show up however I am
and allow the moment and place
to hold me
in reciprocity and reverence.

A Wider Circle

And perhaps,
as we each tend the sacred spaces of our lives—
inner and outer,
seen and unseen—
we’ll find that they are always tending us, too.

Quietly. Faithfully.
In ways we may never fully understand,
but can always feel
if we choose to listen.