SeaHeart

Every night, I hoop at twilight. The first stars are faintly shining in the sky, the sun is gone, but the splash of color on the horizon will last for about forty-five minutes, giving me enough light to dance.

The fireflies come out, one by one, and shift and move around me, dancing, too. It's hard to describe, that connection, that feel of earth beneath bare feet as I twirl things into being. I imagine the Goddess, shaping the world with a spiral, and I swing my hips to a sound only I and the fireflies can hear--a song made by the stars, the crickets, the waning moon overhead, the trees as they shift, pressing soft leaf tongues against the wind--the robins, as they put their babies to bed, singing lullabies in feathered language.

My heart beats fast, when I spin the hoop. The larger, heavier ones require more effort, and your skin has to stay connected to them longer to keep them in the air, suspended. You don't fight the gravity, you realize that you're a part of it, and if you romance it a little, it won't fight you, either...

It's such Witchcraft, these magic hours. I belly dance, when my hips begin to ache from too much spinning, moving myself like a serpent-made-human. I undulate, hold out my arms to the fireflies, spin and weave and whir, a piece of living clockwork in the greater Universe.

I lay down, spent, last night, body cupped by soft grasses, gentle dews, as I stared up at the stars and traced the pictures I know by heart. There is the great bear, her head held high, while she smiles indulgently down upon the world, holding us all in her great ursine embrace. I felt such magic all around me, felt so connected that I could not have spoken, even if I wanted to. I was mute, silent to the pervasive beauty and awe in the line of every living thing.

I held up my hoop to the stars, my body cradled by the earth, my hoop suspended in the heavens. I thought about what it is, as a Witch, to cast the circle, to invite the elements to witness your great rite, to draw down the Goddess from a sickle moon into your heart. I thought about magic, I thought about how it exists within me, within all things, and in that moment, I pressed my hand against my heart, overwhelmed by the greatness of the universe, and my own smallness. And how, despite my tiny spirit in comparison to a star--I am still cradled, I am still loved. I am still held.

And I set the hoop down around my feet, as I stood. And I raised my arms up to the heavens, cradling them in my arms, as I imagine the Goddess does.

I was too filled with gratitude to tell Her the two words my entire being sang. So I write them here:

Thank You.