Dearbhaile Bradley

Sitting here listening to the wind whistling, rustling, grumbling and the rain splatter as if someone is scooping up and throwing handfuls of water at the windows. Inside it is quiet, candlelit, soft, home. My batik is on the wall opposite where I sit. It has been hung in every home I’ve had since Maya gave it to me twenty eight years ago. It is all I need to make any room my home. But even as I arrived and this sweet little space was all sad and forlorn, I felt the welcome of the Brigid’s Cross over the door and the beautiful elephant bookends that now enclose the books I brought with me. (more…)

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
Mary Oliver

This question has stayed with me ever since Autumn Equinox when in the final session of the Council of All Beings weekend I found myself with too little time left for the exercise I’d prepared and used Mary Oliver’s question to focus the “Going Forth” section of the weekend. I thought I was here to write but… (more…)

Samhain night,
Night of magic, night of spells
Night of the thinning of the veils.
Night of portend, night of signs
Night when the dead can walk again. (more…)