It is still fascinating to be so captivated by seasonal shifts that have otherwise caused me great anxiety. Spring allergies and the summer blues are fears of my past now that I have witnessed an entire turn of the wheel here in the PNW. Today, the peak of spring, what we witches refer to as Beltane, has been potent with magic and messages from the spirit’s realm as it is during Samhain. It’s no wonder as Beltane is the halfway point to Halloween, and the veil is just as thin as during Halloween night. Spirit has made herself visible to me during Beltane before yet I am still slightly afraid and still wonder if what I witnessed was real or was a moment that existed in another realm and only for my eyes and spirit to see. No matter what logic my mind tries to make out of these accounts, the flames inside me burn the human desire for explanation and accept the gifts and messages given to me.
This Beltane, I have been ultra sensitive to the energies I was carrying around in the days leading up to today. They kept me still and grounded even though I wanted to squirm out of the house and mingle, celebrate and exchange energies. Instead, I was overcome with another severe bout of possible peri-menopausal PMS. I am still denying the peri-menopausal symptoms, but they are becoming harder to ignore. Denial that I need to come to terms with as my womb feels like it has a set of claws inside the hollow place that violently scratches the lining of my uterus, tearing clots from it. The discarded pieces clog the opening of their natural exit and if I cough or sneeze or simply fucking laugh, the dislodge causes crimson waves of the tsunami proportion out of my cooch. I rode roller coasters of emotions ranging from peak happiness to steep drops into depression. I wondered if my medication plateaued but knew that I was experiencing hormonal chaos and under the influence of a rare double new moon and partial eclipse.
Resorting to tarot for guidance, I decided to cast off plans I had made and headed into nature to bleed there. Once I stepped foot from the car, the cramps ceased. Thanks to the aid of the river, the forest, and other humans that kept their distance, I smoked a joint and vibed to the tunes of the hurried water. I didn’t expect to see the trees breathe and move together in unison. I didn’t expect to see Faires in broad daylight, across the river but in only one tree, busy doing whatever the Fae does when they don’t care that a human is watching. I caught one peeking at me in a branch nearby. I didn’t want to give it attention and get caught up in the temptation of their taunts. I mean the Fae, no disrespect.
My nonchalantness worked because I stood up to stretch, and when I twisted and bent, I found a dousing rod behind me. Thank you, Fairy friends!
Using my third eye to see through the rod before using it for decision-making, everything I saw looking between the prongs was different, more vibrant, and secretive than what my husband was seeing. He asked me if I was having fun while watching me play. He saw me living out my inner child’s favorite fantasy, playing with sticks, rocks, and plants along a forest-lined river.
Then guilt came surging forth as I still couldn’t muster the typical Michelle Halloween energy to celebrate a new friend’s accomplishment, record a podcast or attend a Beltane celebration with a local coven of witches. Instead, I allowed my body to menstruate and indulge in more potent weed, pizza, and divine new whiskey sour. This was all Saturday evening.
Sunday morning, May first, 2022, I woke up ready to spend the day in bed moping about my tender boobs and my contracting uterus. But, something inside me urged me to give my big pussy energy to the forest.
It worked because when I happened upon the first phallic sign of my private Beltane celebration, it had small dick energy. I took from this message that I don’t need masculine anything to be the powerful woman I am.
What happened next, though, was so magnificent, I am still in absolute awe.
My husband and I decided to take a human/game trail off the main path—typical of our lifestyle. As we squished through the narrow muddy course, I noticed that I was truly living in a moment of my wildest fantasy. I felt lost in the woods. We took our time, stopped, and looked up when trees gently waved to get our attention. We were amongst ancient giants. Some showed off their immortal boners. Although my cramps and bleeding had subsided, I refrained from getting naked and self-pleasuring.
That’s what I was envisioning, me being a tree hoe, when suddenly, the air changed, and I heard WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH a mere twelve feet above me. I ducked as a tremendous bird flew over my head. My entire spirit lit up and screamed, Eagle! My brain tried to be logical and said, “you’re only special enough to see a large crow or hawk.” But, when the bird banked left, and I saw its white head, white tail, and yellow beak, I knew it was an eagle. The first one I’ve seen in the wild and the PNW, nonetheless. I’ve wanted to see one so bad, and as my husband and I looked at each other, whispering our “oh my goths, and I can’t believe that just happened,” the eagle let out its unmistakable call.
After days of being annoyed with my husband’s constant need to be close by, I was so grateful he was there to prove I didn’t imagine it. His eyes were alight, and his jaw was just as open as mine. We couldn’t believe that had happened. To us. To me.
Just a couple of weeks ago, I told him about a morning dream I had where I was looking out our bedroom window when an eagle, just like the one we saw, flew up to the window. It was unafraid of me gazing at it. The excitement woke me up.
Leading up to this day, the repeating numbers 222 333 and 1010 also appeared to me. I believe it’s evident that I am a deeply intuitive woman who can genuinely make her intentions known and command that they be respected when I acknowledge my self-worth and power. I am stronger, more magical than I give myself credit for, and the passion I harbor within me can make even forest dick feel small.
After I allow my moon cycle to do its routine maintenance, I am letting my fire, my passions, burn hot, burn high, and robust. I will make ink from the ashes of those burned by my flames and protect those I am aligned with. My sky and earth have met and mated this beautiful Spring, and as its peak makes way for summer, I am grateful to not fear the sun for the first time in my life.
Happy Beltane Bitches and Witches.
Has this Beltane been fierier for you?