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An excerpt from Seasons of Moon and Flame 
by Danielle Dulsky

May this first moon of spring, this Season of Tender Roots, greet you as the Garden Hag does, with childlike curiosity and much, much joy. Her face is lined, her hair is gray, but her heart beats in the rhythm of the innocent erotic. You have come to her ivy-hugged house in search of some great, unnamed thing, and she is just the one to help you uncover that buried treasure, those invaluable golden depths of wild wisdom tucked away long ago, planted beneath the Elders’ Altar for safekeeping.

Our spring magick does the business of binding our dreams to those who came before us; our healing is their healing, and our longing is their longing.

Sunrise Reflection: The Beloved Dead
The first moon of spring calls us to ask ourselves potent questions about lineage and legacy, about broken mother lines and misplaced myths. Witches lean toward intuitive understanding in these times of lost ancestries, rather than endless intellectual digging through records of birth and death, easily fabricated nonevidence and inaccurate reflections of the deep wells of passion and experience housed by the flesh of those who bore us. There is a rejuvenated purity to early spring, an air of wide-eyed, newborn innocence and electric possibility that pulls us closer to healing what seemed unhealable — that is, to integrating what once seemed so far outside us, too foreign and, perhaps, too revolting to possibly be part of us. Each spring we are blessed with what seems a newfound gift of grace, an invitation to encounter, if not hold in our shaking hands, the wealth of Earth-based traditions that our blood remembers and remembers well.

Those coming home to their Witchcraft, acknowledging the art of magick for the first time, perhaps, after sufficiently dismantling the walls of indoctrinated belief that blocked their way, often are met with yet another obstacle, one entirely unforeseen and seemingly insurmountable. If we are to embrace the rhythms of the earth, the Craft, and the land, we must feel into the beauteous fabric of which our soul threads are part. We must resist ignoring the scars we have inherited, yes, but we must also look to the wisdom of those who lived long before the dead ones we know by name. We must step back and broaden our vision, scrying our way from the intricate patterns of family and roots.

To do so, we must seek out the beloved dead. We must extend our reach beyond a century or two. We must cultivate the long vision that eludes these days, and we must take great care with our fragile psyches and questing spirits.

Spring Equinox Celebration: Twin Eggs of Birth and Renewal
Materials: Air-drying clay

To beckon warmer days, to breathe hot and melt those persistent morning frosts in the name of sheer and visceral desire, is a primal act. We find ourselves in the final stages of labor here, birthing something out of pure will and our human longing to create but not knowing, not yet, what our faithful efforts have yielded. The great paradox of spring is this: If we look to the creation myths across many cultures, we see that birth is nothing if not violent, a sudden and cataclysmic eruption of something epic out of a primordial dark womb. And yet, in spring, there is also a sense of lightness, possibility, and joy.

Our vernal equinox celebrations must weave these two seemingly opposing spring energies together, blending that soft-baby-animal creaturely and generative innocence with that bursting, disruptive force that brings all things new into being. Equinoxes are balance points between light and shadow, and on that first day of spring, we must welcome the sweet and sugary light along with the bold, bone-shaking dark.

At your altar, light your candle of sovereignty and welcome the spirits of your more ancient elders of good intent, those who have your best interest at heart, those who want you to remember the unique power that runs in your blood. Face the east, the direction of new beginnings and the spring season; then begin to mold two egg-shaped sculptures from clay by hand, honoring this season of renewed opportunities and endless chances, pondering the infinite potential found in nature, the sheer resilience of wild agency, and the peace that comes from knowing that all dies to begin again. What you failed to hatch last year, what stayed hidden behind your fragile eggshell walls, surely will emerge from the cosmic egg this go-around, vibrant, full of wonder, and poised for timely action.

Take care with these new creations, humble in appearance as they may be. Hold an egg in each hand, naming the one in your right the Egg of Morning, the one in your left the Egg of Evening. Begin to move now, as you feel called; these movements might be subtle and slow gestures or emphatic leaps and rhythmic pulses. Pray with your body. Become an embodied expression of possibility. Honor both the expanding light and the dwindling dark here, on the equinox. Imagine your beloved ancestors dancing with you, holding their own eggs and welcoming what comes. Invite your primal and long-gone dead, those who hold the deepest treasures, those who can initiate you better and more meaningfully into your Craft than any living human.

These delights are what our best times are made of, after all. These small revelries remind us why we have been born to flesh. Stay with this for as much time as you have, permitting your movements to perhaps find repetition; here is where we meet the body electric, when our dance becomes a sacred limb-and-spine offering. If you can stay in the dance until that blessed slightly altered state of consciousness comes, when the dance swallows the thoughts whole and there’s little left but heartbeat and movement, you will encounter there a small piece of the Holy Wild sensual.
Your dance has charged your eggs with memory and feeling. Seal this ceremony by decorating them in whatever way seems right, perhaps with rose thorns penetrating the Egg of Evening or intricate symbols of blossom and root carved on the Egg of Morning. Drink something cool and sweet, and welcome all that comes, returning your eggs to your altar and thanking the ancestors in spirit who joined you in your celebration.

Waxing Moon Practice: Writing It Real
This first moon of spring is a soul-warming moon, and our magick is tasked with both manifestation and healing. As that moon of cleansing storms swells toward fruition, ask yourself what you are calling in that, if only in a small way, serves as a healing salve for the wounds of the wild, for the aches and pains endured by those who have come before us. We bridge the ancient with the new now, beneath these radically hopeful skies, and we bind the material to the embodied feeling.

Gather the signs you have been receiving from both dreams and the material world that seem to show you the way forward. Choose three life areas to inform your manifestation Craft as the moon waxes toward fullness; these might be sacred work, art, family, gender expression, romance, spiritual connection, communication, or any other aspect of your being that seems potent and pressing now. Certainly, we do not have such pieces of ourselves tucked away neatly in stacked boxes. Our work is hardly separate from our art or our communication. We are selecting certain puzzle pieces of our lives now as an act of discernment, of brave-hearted manifestation. We choose now to make the first mark on the blank canvas with hands shaking and brush dripping. We choose now because we feel those quickening energies sparking in our cells, and we choose now to claim the choice as ours.

Spend this waxing moon choosing the beginnings of what will be your spellwork in spring. Ask yourself what is in transition, what feels as if it is shifting underfoot, and what is teetering on some thin edge waiting for you to pull it close or push it away, once and for all. You might look to the creation myths of your ancestry, framing those tales of primordial darkness, violent deities, cosmic eggs, and ancient, long-rooted trees as telling metaphors for the magick of manifestation.

If it feels overly limiting to choose only three life areas, then choose more. If it feels best to work with only one area, then this is the path. Part of the Garden Hag’s medicine is discernment born of vulnerable and honest reflection; we take stock, we choose the path, and we move forward, all the while listening to our inner crone for direction. Each morning as the moon waxes, set the intention to receive a sign from the wilds, and look to the ways in which nature itself is an oracle.

Waning Moon Practice: The Great Galactic Fabric
As a waning moon practice, consider making an offering to your ancestors. This might be a small gift, a flower laid beneath a tree or a poem written to those who came before you. There is no need to name these people unless you feel called to. You might make this offering just once as the moon wanes, or it might be a daily act of framing yourself as part of an unseen collective. As you make this offering, imagine some small child of the future making this same offering to you. See a world less wounded and a land left better by your hand, by the hands of those who act now to save what must be saved.

Danielle Dulsky is a heathen visionary, pagan poet, and word-witch. The author of Seasons of Moon and Flame, The Holy Wild, and Woman Most Wild, she teaches internationally and has facilitated circles, communal spell-work, and seasonal rituals since 2007. She is the founder of The Hag School and believes in the emerging power of wild collectives, cunning witches, and rebellious artists in healing our ailing world. Find her online at www.DanielleDulsky.com.

Excerpted from the book Seasons of Moon and Flame. Copyright ©2020 by Danielle Dulsky. Printed with permission from New World Library.

I have a stepson I just can't seem to warm up to. He lives a ways away with his mother, and we get him for a good six weeks in the summer and every other Christmas and spring break. I don't know why I can't warm up to him, for I've certainly tried. He's now 13 years old, and I have been married to his father for four years. From the start, he's just gotten on my nerves. He seems to like me, and I have fine relationships with his older sisters, who are 15 and 21 now. Could my feelings stem from past life experiences, or am I just not being nice? I try so hard to like him, and I am very kind to him and considerate when he is with us. I feel bad for feeling this way. I want to understand why I feel like this and what I can do to get past it. My birth date is 8/5/52 and his is 10/24/92.

Dreamchaser:

You have no reason to feel bad about your feelings towards your stepson. There are just some people in this world that rub us the wrong way. You are nice to him and treat him kindly when he is around. If you were mean and nasty when he came to visit, that would be a different story.

I do believe your issues stem from not only one past life, but from quite a few. I think you two are members of the same "soul family." There is this pack of souls that go from life to life with us. We learn from each other and they come with us in various forms in various lives. He was an enemy, a lover, a friend, a parent and a sibling of yours in prior lives. The emotions that you INSTANTLY felt towards him when you first met are a direct result of prior life experiences.

You need to stop feeling bad about your feelings towards him. Guilt is not good for anyone. You feel INCREDIBLY guilty, and of course you hope no one figures out how you feel, especially your husband. Don't worry - no one can see through your kindness towards the boy. This is a soul thing.

To be honest, though he seems to like you, your stepson is not very fond of you either. Though you are always kind to him, everyone else likes you, and his dad loves you, he feels the same thing you do. He feels as uncomfortable around you as you feel around him. He does not feel guilty about it, however. He just figures that you are his stepmother, and kids are not always expected to get along with their stepparents.

I do not know that there is any way for you to get past this. As he grows and evolves, he will change his demeanor and attitude. That may help you learn to like him as times goes by. At this point, however, I don't think you can MAKE yourself like him. You have been trying to do that.

If you want something new to TRY, you can ask the Universe to take away the negativity you have about him, and ask that it be replaced with feelings of tolerance, acceptance and love.

Because of the past life stuff between you two, I can't promise it will work, but you sure can try it. It will also make you feel less helpless where this situation is concerned. I know you would LOVE to get along better with him, and at least this would make you feel like you are working on that.

In the mean time, just try to make peace with yourself and your feelings about him. Sometimes we just have to accept how things are, even if we classify them as "bad."

I wish you peace with this situation.

*****

Astrea:

At times, all of us meet people we just don't like for one reason or another. Your problems with your stepson do not stem from anything in a past life, though I have seen that happen hundreds of times. The issues that you have with him are more astrological, and have a whole LOT to do with him living with his mother. That combination can't be easy for anyone.

As a Scorpio, he is naturally suspicious of anyone and everyone. That's a characteristic of that sign that can turn into full blown paranoia if it's allowed to fester and bloom!

It's not just you - he treats his dad the same way too. Dad is more equipped to handle it since they are blood relations, but it's harder for you. You want to be nice to him, but he just flat out rubs you the wrong way.

As a Leo, I know you're a consummate actress, and I know that you can keep up the facade for your husband's sake. It's difficult because the kid's mind is being poisoned against you by his mother breakfast, lunch and dinner. There is absolutely, positively, NOTHING you can do about her.

He's her baby, and he reports everything back to her that happens in your home. Then she twists things around to try to avenge all the wrongs she imagines your sweet husband did to her, and that attitude comes through in his aura whether you are able to actually see that or not.

As a sunny Leo, you feel that there is not a single person on Earth you can't manage to like. Even psychiatrists tell us that is just impossible, and that one in three people we meet will rub us the wrong way for one reason or another. Even close blood relatives can do that, so don't beat yourself up for being unenlightened just because you have a natural ability to read the boy's aura and it puts you off.

You seem to be able to overlook what he puts out and love him for who he is: your husband's son. As he gets older, he won't get more peaceful, because Scorpios are running a thousand miles per minute, but YOU will become more peaceful with the vibrations you pick up around him.

Sometimes we can never love signs that conflict with ours, but when he's old enough to figure out what his mother has been doing, he'll change his attitude, and you'll be able to be close to him just like you are your husband's two girls. He does love you, even though he can't like you, and I know your feelings for him are mutual.

Just try to roll with it and keep the peace for now ñ it will pay off for you a million times later on.