Hymnus Floralis
horehound, hollyhock, hellebore and heather
Horehound, hollyhock, hellebore, and heather,
Delicate, medicinal, powerful, pleasure.
From ancient seed, we welcome such treasure, as
Horehound, hollyhock, hellebore, and heather.
Lilac, lisianthus, lavender, and lily,
We offer you our hands, truly, willingly.
Surely they are not real, such indelible beauties, as
Lilac, lisianthus, lavender, and lily?
Aster, agapanthus, ambrosia, and azalea,
To ignore your wisdom of humanity is a failure.
May you live into eternity, enchanting earth regalia, dear
Aster, agapanthus, ambrosia, and azalea.
Marigold, milkweed, meadowsweet, and mallow,
To say you delight would be insufficient, shallow.
We honor your medicine and teachings as hallowed, dear
Marigold, milkweed, meadowsweet, and mallow.
I could go on.
And on, and on, in
love and joy, in
reverent song.
Our flowered elders, our ancient kin,
To you, we owe most
everything.
It is by plants we’ve seen each age.
Be they saffron, soapwort,
sunflower or sage.
To you, dear kin, of leaf and petal,
Our lives, so small, mere cosmic pebbles,
May we claim our voice and in adoring you
rebel.
For in the face of all human darkness and pain,
You return each year, after blood, after rain,
To bring light and joy through the cracks and the rubble.
Food for the winged, and joy to the troubled.
Despite our weakness, our madness, our terror,
You make meaning of life, as an effortless carer.
I could go on.
And on, and on, in
love and joy, in
reverent song.
Let us scratch out our poems of justice and awe,
Collecting seeds to cherish, seeds to store,
We’ll teach our children to seek your wisdom.
A transmission of care and kindness as dictum.
Through each stage of life,
through darkness and strife,
through all they’ll explore,
You’ll be there with more.
Through all this strange, sad, and dark worldly weather;
We’ll honor dear,
horehound, hollyhock, hellebore, and heather.
Hymnus Floralis By H.L. Porter
For The Love of The Sun
The longest day is upon us. As this season of heat and light continues and plants come into their abundance, the wheel turns and we rise even more, unfurling ourselves fully to be nourished by the sun, joining every leaf, flower, weed, and tree in this annual dance of life. So, as we spiral onward and inward through the beautiful season of Beltane, meeting the wheel at the notch of the Summer Solstice, today offers us an invitation to pause, once again, and notice all that is blossoming around and within us. All that we have achieved to date this year. All that is fueled and revealed by the life-giving and life-sustaining power of our home star.
I find that it is also a wonderful time to consider who might you be being witnessed by? What kin and creatures are clawing at your edges and occupying your heart? What spells of Summer are inked upon your lips, and who might you whisper them to? How can this green warmth call you into even greater, even more natural, states of powerful and perspicuous presence?
While watering a budding potted yarrow on Monday, I was grateful to meet a baby katydid, the first of the season. A pale pastel green tiny leaf with legs (I believe it’s a type of grasshopper). We met while it was resting on the soft fronds of the yarrow. I honored what felt like an invitation to sit together, taking a few moments to witness each other and to feel the radiant warmth of the sun, the delight of the shade, and the feathery silk of the yarrow’s beautiful leaves. There I sat, and we looked towards each other for a minute or two. Just two random earthlings hanging out together on a hot Monday afternoon.
Sun, shade, yarrow, katydid. Repeat.
On Wednesday, while on a long evening walk with a dear friend, passing shoulder height grasses and rushing rapids carrying snowmelt from Colorado away from the mountains and towards the West, we walked alongside many young bunnies stopped and stared at us as we drew closer, or, very cutely, turned around and hid their faces showing us their perfect white fluffy cotton tails. We passed the cormorant lake, covered in breeding couples and nests, walked over a couple of bridges and under a large freeway, and then at the end of our path, we witnessed a sight most divine. A single doe, walking slowly towards us along the same path, her form backlit to the West by the sun setting over the mountains. We all stopped and observed one another. I bowed slowly. Three female mammals (two human, one deer) taking each other in. There were no fast movements, no fear or concern, just curiosity and presence. She stayed for a while, watching us sit and enjoy our halfway rest, and then she slowly turned towards the thick lakeside brush and disappeared, as though walking out of our realm and into another. Vanishing, in the twinkling of an eye.
It is in this same place, with this same friend, that we watched seven coyotes playing on a frozen lake last winter. It was mesmerizing. Definitely play. They were jubilant, almost (perhaps) laughing with one another? The temperatures were subzero, the river was frozen, and on this lake, we saw them run that morning. I’ve never seen them again, though I know they are about based on the occasional small animal carcass and of course the signs warning people not to feed them. Winter coyotes. Yes please.
We are so fortunate to have such abundant natural areas close to our city. In the Spring, we and many of our human neighbors witnessed the birth and growth of two (I think?) Great Horned Owl chicks. These owls are magnificent and huge, with a wingspan that can reach 5 feet and feathers called ‘plumicorns’ atop their heads that look like feathered horns, hence their name. They hoot in the most classical sense of an owl, ‘whooo whooo’ it’s gorgeous (you can hear them via the link above). The chicks, like all baby owls, were a mess of feathers, and I missed them in their training flights as I was overseas. I wonder if this couple will return next year for their next wee brood. Great Horned Owls mate for life after all.
All of these wild, beautiful creatures inspire me endlessly. While we all have life and breath, may we seek to act in conscious, honorable, and connected ways, as much and as often as we can. And, of course, may we forgive our slips and follies, for we are human, after all.
Human.
Humanity?
Compassion, kindness, benevolence, empathy, tolerance.
The more I write with pen and page, the more I sit with poppy and sage, the more I’m not so sure that the internet in its latest permutation is a promoter of the qualities above, plus authenticity, patience, and grace. Regular cleansing of its sticky net feels like required, elemental self-care these days, with as much time spent outside when/if possible. Interestingly, for those of us who work with curses (or agreements/bindings/bonds/entanglements), it’s hard not to look towards this technology, what it tries to feed its users and what we have collectively created through its use, without seeing the erratic madness, hidden rage, and perverse desire for it (or the powers that be that leverage it as tool) to consume, well, us.
If I am to be consumed by a technology, may it be the divine dusky hoot of an owl. It has permission to consume me whole. Or perhaps by the gentle blinking of a sunset doe, that too is welcome to consume me. But the vicious madness of the news media and the fear-mongering algorithms and dopamine mining plague of today’s internet?
No thanks.
I have breaths to take and connections to make, flowers to sing with, clouds to consult, and humans to listen to. Dreams to be witnessed and books to be read. Soups to be prepared, herbs to be harvested, oceans to adore, nieces and nephews to shower with love, and mountains to sit with. And none of these, not one, can be replicated by the machine. So I shall take my leave as much as possible, and, if you feel so called, you’re always welcome to join me.
Perhaps you would like to join me in a commitment to listening to the red-winged blackbirds (or whoever graces the spaces you find yourself in), the wind, and the waters whenever they feel compelled to share? Especially at this turn of the wheel, when the days are long and the clouds seem to stretch even further across the horizon, let’s allow these black mirrors to collect some dust while we spend more time with the hummingbirds, house finches, and hawks. As the light stretches on and on, perhaps we too can take up a reverent song to sing to the flowers in all their majesty, while we are still here, to honor them, and they here, to witness us.
During this solstice moment, and on my knees, I ask our dear deities of the light; Lugh of the Long Arm and Queen Áine and her faery host, to shine their strength and benevolent light upon all who need it, all who yearn for light to shine into the delicate and damaged parts of their lives. May their mid-Summer wisdom illuminate all of our hearts and dreams, guiding us towards the highest expression of our beings. Guiding us towards authentic and magnanimous connection.
May peace reign in the hearts of humanity.
May the watchers of the night within call us away from that which imprisons us.
May the watchers of the light within balance our eternal illumination.
May we remember the sacred blessings of work, water, shelter, warmth, and connection.
May we never, ever, forget the sacred treasure that is life. All life.
Life.
For in a flicker, a moment, an instant, we could be welcomed across death’s sacred threshold, our time complete. Let us make meaning and peace with these lives we’ve been given; let us commit fully to its challenges, honor its pleasures, defend its wonders, and care for all life as though they are our family.
For all are our kin.
Including the juniper, jacaranda, and beautiful jasmine.
Blessed be their names.
The Summer Day by Mary Oliver
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean —
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Celebrate with Animisma
The Summer Solstice is a time of power, a time of strength, and is the celebration of our glorious, life-giving, and life-sustaining home star - our sun.
I currently have one wee podcast available for the summer solstice.
May you be blessed by Birch, Vervain, Oak, and Rose - sacred trees and plants honored at this time of peak light! May the long days and warm evenings bring you ever closer, ever more aligned, with the sacredness of your own walk, site, and service.
Summer Solstice - The Sacred Light
This is a day of great abundance, wonder and celebration of achievements! And, as with all celebrations on this blessed and beloved wheel of the year, as we celebrate the strength of the light we now turn our sight softly towards the darkening half of the year that will begin shortly after this resplendent day. Celtic stone circles, ancient gathering pl…
For The Druids
Albin Hefin, the light of the shore, and the festival of joy is upon us. The longest of our celebrations, here to honor the richness of the Earth and the power of the Sun.
Whether you undertake the full vigil or the dawn or noon ceremonies, may your observation of the day be a blessed one, and may you be blessed by both water and fire.
May your harvest of herbs be brimming with the light of the Sun.
May you dance and sing and celebrate with ease and joy.
May you find the elemental balance within and without.
May you find, share, and radiate peace today and all days and may the awen flow deeply and richly around and through you.
Poetry As Prayer - Upcoming Workshops
"To write poetry is to be alive."- Rainer Maria Rilke
This Spring I completed a training with the Institute for Poetic Medicine to become a Poetry as a Tool for Wellness Peer Facilitator. It was a moving and inspiring training, and I am thrilled to shortly bring my own Celtic mysticism/animism version of its teachings forward as both an in-person and online program. This series is tentatively planned this for the northern hemisphere’s late summer/autumn seasons.
The program is intentionally limited to a maximum of 7 participants per session to make space for sharing and reflection, and my hope is that it will be a nourishing journey of community and connection for all who participate. No prior writing experience is necessary! The purpose of this is to experience communion and connection (and some magic), making space for the words to find their way to and through you.
The online program will account for time zones in the US and Ireland/UK/Europe.
The in-person program will take place in Colorado, USA.
Please feel free to submit your interest here to be notified.
Summer Writing Prompts
Apart from ceremony and blessing, it will come as no surprise to you that one way I love to celebrate the warmth of summer is with poetry and prose. Reading, writing, listening… a true pleasure for the senses and this season has of course, inspired countless writers towards myriad poems and stories.
Below, I offer you some summer solstice writing prompts. If you feel so called, I’d love for you to share what comes through you in response.
Within the radiant chamber of this day’s long light and strong heat, the shield of my winter self melted, and I wondered…
The wide, dark moon rose swiftly over the summer’s shimmering horizon, and I noticed every…
At the summer solstice, the ancestral memory of ceremony rose within me, and I heard…
All blessings your way, today and all days.
Your kin of bud and pollen, petal and prose, thorn and thunder,
h. xx
Characteristics of Life by Camille T. Dungy
A fifth of animals without backbones could be at risk of extinction, say scientists.
—BBC Nature NewsAsk me if I speak for the snail and I will tell you
I speak for the snail.
I speak of underneathedness
and the welcome of mosses,
of life that springs up,
little lives that pull back and wait for a moment.
I speak for the damselfly, water skeet, mollusk,
the caterpillar, the beetle, the spider, the ant.
I speak
from the time before spinelessness was frowned upon.
Ask me if I speak for the moon jelly. I will tell you
one thing today and another tomorrow
and I will be as consistent as anything alive
on this earth.
I move as the currents move, with the breezes.
What part of your nature drives you? You, in your cubicle
ought to understand me. I filter and filter and filter all day.
Ask me if I speak for the nautilus and I will be silent
as the nautilus shell on a shelf. I can be beautiful
and useless if that's all you know to ask of me.
Ask me what I know of longing and I will speak of distances
between meadows of night-blooming flowers.
I will speak
the impossible hope of the firefly.
You with the candle
burning and only one chair at your table must understand
such wordless desire.
To say it is mindless is missing the point.
And so it is! Thank you for your beautiful writing dear sister.