First let me say that I love living in Maine. I adore the summer, the beaches, the lakes, the forests, the autumn, the mountains, cool people, spring flowers, and yes, even the snow. Mostly.
As a Pagan priestess and a hippie chick, Earth-based spirituality is the way I live. I enjoy the turn of the seasons, the phases of the moon, and living in harmony with those energy tides.
Until late February, when I start to hear and read “spring is coming!” Um, no. Not here. Not yet.
We’ve had Spring Equinox circles where the kids made benches around the fire pit from the four feet of snow piled up in the backyard. It is rare when we don’t get at least one snowstorm in April, let alone March. Late winter in my state is full of mud and ice and cold winds.
So, right about now, I’m dreaming of warm sand beaches and turquoise waters. Not that I’ve actually been to the tropics…yet.
Over the past few years, it’s been made clear to me that I’m a water priestess. I’ve embraced the calling. I’m doing research for a book (working title: Water Wisdom) about this experience, and the value of water (literal and metaphorical) in our lives. My writing retreats are all going to happen by the sea. My philanthropic plans include helping clean up the oceans.
I love being a water priestess, but this year in particular, it seems to make the winter even longer. Longer until I can plunge into those heavenly waters under the open sky. Pools just aren’t the same. I’m stuck in the waiting place.
Unless, of course, I can manifest my dreams of visiting the Caribbean and swimming in the warm sea. Hey, it would count as research for my book and the search for retreat venues, right?
In the meantime, I’m dreaming of swimming in the sea and reading on the beach under the sun.