Notes from the Apothecary

August, 2017

Notes from the Apothecary: Self Heal



Prunella vulgaris; prunel, brunell, carpenter’s herb, hook heal, sickle-wort; a common herb in the British isles, and indeed most places in the Northern Hemisphere; currently creeping its way across my lawn, unapologetically purple. I was delighted to find this magical little plant as a ‘freebie’; we didn’t cultivate it, it’s completely made its own way in and it is most welcome. The plant has a long history of medical use, being commented upon by Gerard, Culpeper and many other renowned herbalists and botanists, for its wide-ranging uses, which we will examine further below.


Although useful as a magical plant, we don’t find it in Cunningham or similar books, yet there is much history surrounding this little miracle plant.


The Kitchen Garden


Eat the Weeds tells us that the young leaves can be eaten raw or cooked, however the raw leaves can be slightly bitter. This may be an option if you are really low on greens, but I would only cultivate this plant to be harvested as an herb, or simply to be enjoyed as an extremely beautiful addition to any garden.


Purple flowers in the garden help attract bees and butterflies, and bees in particular really love this plant (see the pic I took at the top of the article; I had bent down to shoot the flower when the bee buzzed in, a couple of inches from my nose!). If you grow your own herbs, fruits and vegetable, it’s essential that you encourage pollinators, so self heal is ideal for this.


The Apothecary


Where to start. The common name, self heal, tells you all you need to know and not very much at the same time. We get that sense that for centuries, this plant has been revered for its healing properties, but what exactly does it do?


Mrs Grieve tells us that the whole plant may be used medicinally, as an astringent (causes cells to contract), a styptic (stops bleeding) and a tonic (a general restorative). She recommends 1oz of the plant mixed with a pint of boiling water, to make an infusion which is considered a ‘strengthener’. She also recommends the same infusion mixed with honey (yum, back to the bees again) and used as a gargle for sore throats and mouth ulcers.


In 1657 William Coles wrote Adam in Eden or Nature’s Paradise: The History of Plants, Fruits, Herbs and Flowers. In this ambitious volume he mentions self heal several times, including making a remedy for quinsy (a serious complication arising from tonsillitis) made with a combination of self heal, jew’s ear fungus and elder honey. Seriously, if you are at risk of quinsy though, see a doctor! It’s worth noting that Coles was a staunch advocate of the Doctrine of Signatures, the idea that plants look like the part of the body they are useful for healing. He believed that God would have wanted mankind to know what each plant was useful for. Sadly, this strategy doesn’t always follow through, which is why it’s always important to research your herbs thoroughly and scientifically.


Coles also wrote that ‘There is not a better wound-herbe in the world’ and recommended it for leaning wounds to stop infection, and to soothe the nipples of breastfeeding women who had been bitten by their enthusiastic babies. He also concurred with Mrs Grieve in that it is a useful tonic for sore throats, particularly those accompanied by a fever, most likely tonsillitis again.


Culpeper tells us that there is a proverb:

That he needs neither physician nor surgeon that hath self-heal and sanicle to help himself.


So self heal, along with other herbs such as sanicle, mentioned here, can be seen as an essential part of a herbal first aid kit, or it certainly was as far back as the 17th century, if not much earlier.


The Lab


In modern medicine, there is hope that self heal may hold some anti-viral properties, and may even be useful in the treatment or prevention of cancer. The plant is capable of inhibiting a virus’s ability to replicate itself, so may be very useful in modern anti-viral drugs. So far tests have been done involving the herpes virus and HIV. More testing needs to be done though, to find conclusive evidence on this.


There is also some indication that self heal could be useful for diabetes sufferers, although again, this theory is in its very early stages.


The Witch’s Kitchen



There is anecdotal superstition that witches grew self heal in their gardens to hide their malicious activities. Self heal is so common that most people would not look twice at it, so perhaps it was used to mask other, more interesting herbs.


Culpeper wrote that self heal was ‘another herb of Venus’, lending the plant a feminine aspect and associations with both the planet and the goddess of the same name. Venus speaks to us of love, sex, sensuality and beauty; not just physical beauty but art, music and all types of creativity. Self heal can be seen as a catalyst for not only healing the body, but healing the soul, and reminding us not to be ‘all work and no play’. Self heal on the altar or in a sacred space can be a symbol for repairing or building a friendship, or perhaps a more intense relationship.


Venus is also associated with wealth, and by extension work, business, career and other opportunities. Self heal in a button-hole might be an easy amulet to wear for a job interview, or a business meeting. If this is too ostentatious, try some leaves or flowers in a tiny bag in your pocket, perhaps with a small rock to remind you to be grounded and true to your ideals.


Venus, as a goddess, is also associated with victory and triumphs, so self heal can be used as a tool to help you achieve your goals. Place leaves or flowers around you while you visualise your goals coming to fruition. Picture yourself where you want to be; getting that job, winning that race, overcoming stage fright or, for writers like myself, getting that next book contract! Crush a leaf and smear some of the juice on your forehead. This is activating your magical and energetic connection to the parts of the universe you cannot see with your eyes alone, and will help cement your will. Remember to make a commitment to do the work required in the physical world, and ensure you stick to it.


If the plants grow nearby, water them and thank them for their help. Always wash the juice off your skin afterwards, and if an irritation occurs, as with any substance, wash it off immediately and seek medical help if necessary.


Home and Hearth


If you don’t mind the odd ‘weed’ in your lawn, let self heal be when it pops up in your garden. The delightful purple flowers will encourage bees and other beauties, and purple reminds us of spirit, universal energy and balance. As such, you can pick some of the flowers for your late spring/early summer altar, depending on when your flowering season occurs. Mine are just starting to wilt, the glorious violet blooms dropping away to leave the empty flowers heads which have a similarity to ears of corn, making them a lovely decoration for a harvest celebration or Lammas altar.


I Never Knew…


In Ireland the herb is known as Ceannbhán beag, which translates as ‘little bog cotton’.


All images copyright 2017, Mabh Savage.




Mabh Savage is a Pagan author, poet and musician, as well as a freelance journalist.

She is the author of:


 A Modern Celt: Seeking the Ancestors





Pagan Portals: Celtic Witchcraft.



Follow Mabh on Twitter, Facebook and her blog.

HedgeWitch Days!

August, 2015

Wiltshire Witchy Walk

Bedecked with basket swinging my arm I wander out into the place from of my spiritual home, the hedgerow. The sound of my feet crunching on the gravel of the lane beat a harmonious tune in time with the grumble of the combine harvester, and I marvel at this technology, bringing in the crop cleanly and quickly, saving the vital life giving grains from the water element that threatens a sharp shower later. I bow my head in a gesture of respect to this modern monster, and the help it gives our hardworking farmers all over this glorious British isle. I give thanks to the Goddess for the grain as it is collected so efficiently this Lammas.

Renewed in my focus back to the now, my footsteps beat a slower tune as my sight sharpens on the green verge to my left. The hum of the machine is no less invasive but my ears hone their witchy vibrations as the gentle buzz of a fat honey bee lazily makes it way from creamy clover to the blush pink of the rosebay willow herb. I stop and watch as the bee bounces from blossom to blossom, speckles of pollen clinging to its round little behind. How does this now much heavier bee fly? I am overwhelmed with thankfulness for this most industrious of insects, its gift of working for Mother Nature does surely make the world keep turning, I bow my head as a mark of respect, a whisper of my thanks for all the insect life escapes my lips as I give thanks to the Goddess.

Rooted to the spot, I feel my feet connected, grounded to the earth below. Raising my head my gaze is met by a wall of green…but I look closer through Witchy eyes. My feet find what they are looking for, my connection with the earth penetrates through my flip flops, down within the warm almost moist soil and join with the force of the roots, a tangle of threads and cords envelop my ankles, holding me firmly and accepting me as a passing visitor in their space. A pulse not unlike my own heartbeat pumps through the earth as these tendrils, just like a baby’s umbilical cord, draw up and feed the canopy, supplying damp goodness on tap. I feel myself become one with this lifeline. I feel my energy travelling along these fleshy tendrils and breathe a sigh as does the hedgerow, feeling flooded with nutrients from the element of earth, our greatest recycler. I bow my head in reverence to the underworld, the labyrinth of networks, home of the worms and the roots, and I give my thanks to the Goddess.

With still rooted feet my eyes drift upwards towards the canopy, their focus sharpening, a myriad of shapes and colours explodes into my vision, the general green shapes expanding into jewel like flashes. The Hawthorn, leaves tinged with the beginning of red, bows low under its own weight of berries. In the main still green, but orange and occasionally red shining through they hold the promise of Mabon. The next door neighbour, the blackthorn supports the velvety almost blue Sloes, plump and bitter, protected by its defences of sharp thorns. The beech sits in my eye line, spreading its crisp fuzzy husks and a smattering of small tasty nuts as a strew along the lane. Hanging nestled in the leaves ready for the waiting squirrels to hoard them for winter they spend their time plumping up ready for their next journey in the cycle of life….as does the hazel sitting to the right of the Hawthorn. Green clusters of the juiciest cobs show a brown tinge of ripening and loosening from their safe haven. I bow my head and give thanks to the trees for all they provide our species and others too. I give thanks for their shelter to all creatures, and I think of the warmth of their spent branches providing fire in the coldest of times, in their death the warmth of life can continue. I whisper my thanks to the Goddess.

I smile gently as a tiny brown wren, the size of a field mouse hops through the straight Hazel whips to the Hawthorn, stopping only to pluck an insect from the truck. It spies me! Paused in a freeze frame, a moment of connection with this small soul makes my heart skip a beat. Its glinting black eye sees no threat in me and as I gently exhale it continues on its way with effortless flight, almost levitating into the sky.

My gaze follows the wren, saddened at the loss of connection to this creature of the sky, the moment and feeling passes…the glorious sky now captivates my vision. Lifting my head I inhale a warm autumnal breath. It permeates my nostrils with grain dust and grassiness, and floods through my veins, sealing the moment of the season into my very being. The element of air comes to me like a wave, cleansing me inside and out as my fringe is lifted delicately away from my forehead to allow the dancing sunlight to touch my face. I close my eyes for only a moment and embrace the gift of this most tactical of elements. I feel complete, a part of the landscape in which I stand as I receive no special treatment from the breeze, its caress is all inclusive, from the tiniest ant to the tallest oak. My mind flips back to the farmer, knowing he too will feel this healing wash of air as he works.

My eyes flutter open slowly, adjusting to the golden light. How wondrous is the sky?!

Blue, clear clean blue peppered with white candy floss clouds. The grey of the autumn rain clouds hover in the distance, waiting in line for their turn to fill the picture above my head. Crows circle over to my left as they follow the trail of the combine, a meal of the finest just cut wheat awaits. I feel my inner being drift upwards to connect with the clouds, seeing as if sat atop of them. The rolling hills, the streams and lanes, the market towns, villages and fields are all laid out in a tapestry, a patchwork quilt of the most ancient threads, linking and holding together the communities and all sentient beings as far as the eye can see and further still. What mystery is held within that sky! What goes beyond? I lower my head in respect to the upper world, in respect of the mysteries of this life, my heart hoping one day to learn some of their secrets as I quietly give thanks to the Goddess.

My breath is a deep one as all the elements converge once again to allow the complete picture. My being becomes centred as my feet are released from their nest of roots and my mind returns from the mysteries of the sky…I feel renewed, replenished, restored, connected. My basket is empty, save the odd piece of abandoned rubbish, snatched from the mesh of the hedgerows tangle of branches, removed as my offering of thanks to our Mother. My soul is full and my heart sings with the joy of my spiritual fulfillment. As my steps carry me home I whisper a final thanks to the Goddess for my journey today, for her gifts that, as ever, are unconditional.

I find myself at my own front door and check my watch. I have been gone almost two hours from this time, and I remind myself that the magical path I walk upon holds no time constraints. I breathe one last magical breath, ask that the magic of my walk today touches all I do. I cocoon the energy of today around my inner soul, draping it in and around me like a sheer luminous silk.

This is the magic of my home, Wiltshire. It does not just reside amongst the obvious stone circles and barrows, nor is it the landmarks so conveniently printed in our maps. It is the ancient connection of this my homeland that runs all across our beloved Mother Earth, knotting us all together as part of an invisible web of energy, love and light.

How blessed we all are to be part of that web!

The Enchanted Cottage; Magic for the Witch’s Home

September, 2014


The craft of the cottage witch conjures images of a secluded cabin on the edge of an enchanted forest. An elderly woman resides there, bent posture and warts wreak havoc on her frail form. Standing over her bubbling cauldron, she whispers incantations only the spirits can decipher. Wolves howl in the moonless night, sending icy tendrils of fear down your spine. A wisp of wind swirls around the cottage, filling the Autumn air with magic. The old woman cackles, turning about in wicked glee. The spell is cast, the deed is done—magic is afoot.

Though the above scene is great for movies and fairy tales, it is not what cottage witchery of today looks like. Sure, we may have cauldrons bubbling with brew and we may cackle from time to time, but most of us are just your everyday person living in today’s fast-paced world. The magic we do in our homes are aimed toward the health and well-being of our families and community. Through spell-craft and folk magic, we enchant the world around us. We advise loved ones with day to day problems through the reading of tea leaves, tarot and other forms of divination.

The cottage witch may honor many gods or none at all. Some work with ancestors and the spirits that live on their land. We gather inspiration through fairy tales and myth, weaving them together to form our own understanding of the occult world. Through trial and error, the cottage witch learns which potions and incantations work best her. The understanding of superstitions and interpreting omens may play a large part in the life of the cottage witch.

The witch’s kitchen is where most of the magic happens. The cooking of foods, brewing of teas, and mixing of herbs and oils for spell-craft take place in what is sometimes called the heart of the home. It is where we gather at the end of a long day to discuss the events of the day. We bless our food as we are preparing it, filling it with love and health. Offerings for the House-Spirits are left here, in hopes that they protect our home and fill it with enchanting warmth. The making of poppets and witches bottles may be prepared here, the kitchen table doubling as an altar.

The life of a cottage witch is one filled with enchantment. We dance through the seasons of Earth and life, weaving magic through all we touch. We laugh, we cry–we cackle. In this column, I will be discussing all of the above information and more in great detail. From folk lore to superstitions, from spells to the many forms of divination the cottage witch can utilize. House-hold deities, spirits and the Mighty Dead will make an appearance here. Join me in the making of magic, join me in– The Enchanted Cottage.

A Simple Path: Journey of a Hedgewitch

September, 2009

*The Hedgewitch lives in the space between the Village and the Forest. Between the mundane and the magical. S/He lives with a foot in both worlds.
This column is dedicated to the Hedgewitches of the planet earth.


September 2009
Harvest Time!!!

It is that profoundly magical season of harvest here in the hedge, and the abundance has amazed me beyond my wildest dreams.
My garden has been a constant source of joy and lessons learned.
The watermelon and cantaloupes, unsown by me, came to life on their own, because we left the seedlings where they sprouted.

It was a teetering balance of my way, and Nature’s way.
In the end, I caved completely and allowed the weeds and plants to grow side by side.
The weeds provided a soft landing spot for the pumpkins and melons, and they had perfect skin as a result.

And as I render these gifts of Nature into usable food products, whole and natural, I am reminded of the lessons of Mabon, and the feasts of Thanksgiving.
My ancestors worked diligently, nearly year round to ensure the food supplies would continue through the long months of winter.
They toiled in their gardens, hung hand-washed clothes on a line, chopped, split and stacked wood for the ever present fires, and canned and dried fresh foods.
As I engage in these activities, even as a modern witch, I am reminded in a deep down cell-remembering way, of these industrious people who came before me. It makes my spirit rejoice to repeat the actions of my foremothers and to feel the satisfaction of having accomplished so vital a task.

In this season of harvest, I am grateful. I am reminded of all I have been blessed with, and all I anticipate to come.
The very act of growing food, harvesting and preserving it is hopeful, and spawns fresh hope when the food is consumed.
It is an opportunity to bless the stores that they might last until the next harvest, and bring needed blessings in the months to come.

Mabon is often referred to as Witch’s Thanksgiving, and for me, that is exactly how I celebrate it. I prepare a feast to celebrate the coming of the dark months of the year, the warmth of our home and the abundance of blessings contained therein.

As well as a time of joy, there is an undeniable sadness associated with this time of year, for me.
When I see a bright yellow school bus, or smell a freshly sharpened number two Ticonderoga pencil I am overcome with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. A falling leaf; a mud puddle; a ripe orange pumpkin…these things hold a sort of wistful sadness for me.

But again, I am reminded of the time of year. The dying back. Things being cleaned, dismantled, stored for the year. Bright green things turning crisp and brown.
Of course there is sadness. It is Nature at work, and we can feel it stir in us, even before the first leaf falls.

Each year on my path, as I observe and fall into deeper rhythm with the cycles, I have a deeper appreciation for the Natural occurrences that mirror a metaphorical reality. Not a circle, for I never return to the same place again, but a spiral, which allows me to see the places I have visited before, again, with the fresh eyes of new experience.

As we raise our chalices in celebration of the season, and remember the sacrifices which were made in order to bring about not only this harvest, but those to come, may we join together to commit to care for one another. To use our abundance to bless those less fortunate.
To make humanity our business, and to care for those we find along our way.
To simplify our lives so that we have time and energy for the truly important blessings in them; the people we love and who love us.

Happy Witch’s Thanksgiving, and Happy Harvest Season to all!

May your table be heaping;
Your larder quite full;
The blessings you’re reaping,
as Autumn now pulls,
be stacked to your rafters
with plenty to share.
~May the mission we’re after
be one of Care.

Brightest Blessings of the Season

A Simple Path: Journey of a Hedgewitch

May, 2009

*The Hedgewitch lives in the space between the Village and the Forest. Between the mundane and the magical. S/He lives with a foot in both worlds.
This column is dedicated to the Hedgewitches of the planet earth.

May In the Hedge: Be The Mountain

In my study of yoga, I found some underlying principles which are generally Buddhist in nature, that  fascinated me, ever since.

There are 4 basic principles:
1. Love
2. Joy
3. Compassion
4. Equinamity

Now, these first 3, I have them licked! I love love in all its many forms. I have no trouble incorporating love into my life, whatsoever.
Joy! What a wonderful gift and blessing, and I engage in active joy all the time.
Compassion- I am empathetic, so comapssion, a no brainer for me.
But when I got to equinamity… I didn’t even know what the word meant.

After looking it up, I wasn’t sure I really knew what it meant, either.

equa·nim·ity (ek’w? nim’? te)

the quality of remaining calm and undisturbed; evenness of mind or temper; composure
(as copied from

This is not the same as being in a peaceful place. This is calmness and deep composure, despite the circumstances. No matter what.

The Buddhist description of this state of consciousness is Being the Mountain.
On the mountain, the winds blow fiercely, and the snow falls, sometimes covering the peak for months at a time.
But the mountain never responds, because it knows that all that is meant to be simply is.
The mountain doesn’t complain, or become afraid, even while glaciers might scrape its face away.
The mountain just is, regardless of the conditions.
The mountain enjoys a state of non-sentient equinamity.

Now, as a sentient being, I have considerably more trouble with this concept of equinamity.
I am rather reactive, it turns out.
I tend to fret and to become enflamed and to respond outwardly, as a rule.
So, the idea of being able to truly Be The Mountain is one so alien to my consciousness.

Yet, I am curious about it, and even sense a growing desire to be the mountian.
I have elected to actively explore this concept in my own life, and to use “Be the mountain” as a mantra when things become emotional for me. It is such an easy and basic visualization. Just Be the Mountain.

In my life, I have recently become aware of some serious problems with the folks I hold dear, and the opportunities to practice equinamity have been abundant. Organ transplants, Cancer, and serious addicition have come to call just as the winds and snow call on the mountain. This is my time to practice.

In my case, the ‘winds’ are always accompanied by a physical sensation. A tightening of the chest. An unconscious holding of the breath. My muscles tighten and seem to be bracing for something.
As I become aware of the stress building in my body, I am reminded to recognize the sensation, and underlying emotions and then release them through the breath.
In this way, I give myself permission to notice my thoughts and feelings, and then allow the sensations of response to pass from me.
I am not holding my stress in parts of my body which then suffer physically for it.

To practice equinamity is not to be unaware, or in denial, about the conditions. It is to acknowledge the conditions and then to allow the response to them flow out again, like the tide.
I am, clearly, no expert, and am just barely even aware of the full impact of what equinamity can do for a life if applied mindfully. However, I do know that equinamity has come to me as a tool to utilize in my personal practice, as I begin to understand it.

I know many of us have issues in our lives and in the lives of our loved ones which can stress us out to the point of madness. I pray that the gift of equinamity can help to bring about a deep calm in your lives, as you work through them.
Just keeping the visual of the mountain in mind can help remind us to breathe and release, when stress begins to mount in us.

If there are those who have walked a Path that has allowed them to master equinamity, I would love to hear from you, as I am always excited to learn from the experience of others.

Brightest May Blessings to you all!

A Simple Path: Journey of a Hedgewitch

November, 2008


*The Hedgewitch lives in the space between the Village and the Forest. Between the mundane and the magical. S/He lives with a foot in both worlds.
This column is dedicated to the Hedgewitches of the planet earth.

Gratitude: Living Thanksgiving Every Day

Gratitude. The words conjures many images. Saying thanks, in a heartfelt way, when someone does us a kindness. Feeling comforted by the fact that we have or are something we value. The theme of Thanksgiving.
Gratitude is what separates folks who appreciate what they have from those who are never satisfied.
I know this is my personal soap-box, and to those who have endured numerous columns devoted to the subject, I offer you only my request for tolerance, as I feel it is important and underrated enough to mention it all again.

It is my belief that gratitude is much more than a feeling of thanks. I believe that in order to truly understand life’s many miracles (some of which feel good, and some which wring out our very bodies, minds and spirits) we must not only experience gratitude, periodically and contingent on a circumstance, but to live in a state of mindful gratitude. Always.

Now this is easier said than done.

I came from the womb a “glass half empty” sort of person. Always prone to recognize what I don’t have rather than to be mindful of what I do.
So, it is rather ironic this would become my platform for change in the Universe. I’m sure the gods get a big kick out of my preaching the gospel of gratitude. Considering who I was when they got me, this life!

But a very wise and dear friend suggested the Gratitude Journal to me, and that was the birthplace of my own gratitude.
Her advice was to take time at the end of each day and write down 5 things I was grateful for. She even gave me a darling little notebook to write them all down in.
Now, I being the cynical analyst I am genetically programmed to be, I laughed hysterically (not to her face, of course. I love her, however mad I thought her at that moment) and chucked the book into a drawer where it sat for the better part of 5 years, not a single word or mark in it.

But her words kept coming back to me. Oddly, not when I felt I had something to be grateful for, but when the whole world seemed to be swirling right down the toilet.

Being a sarcastic person by nature, the icky voice inside my head would say, as I was weeping due to some crushing loss, “So, what are your 5 things to be grateful for? …hee hee hee”.

One particularly bad day, I took the icky voice up on its offer, and began screaming at the top of my lungs “I am grateful for 5 things. 4 limbs and a head that still work. Only things that work! So Hah!”.
It didn’t occur to me in that moment that I had already begun to cultivate gratitude.

From that day on, I began to use the screaming my gratitude technique when I didn’t have what I needed. It was 4 limbs and a head for a long time, but I did have cause to remember how my life had been before, and how much better it was now.
Suddenly, I had a whole slew of things to be grateful for.

No one at my house hurts my body or my spirit.
I have a safe place to sleep tonight.
I ate today.
I put on clean fresh clothes this morning.
I have people in my life who care for me.

None of those things had been true for years before that, but now they were all true. My experiences of awfulness had given me something to compare things to when it got out of hand.
Now, granted, these aren’t major accomplishments or accolades. I wasn’t grateful to have been voted Wife of the Year or for having won a million dollars in the lotto. But I had things to be grateful for, and I was appreciative of each and every one.

One day, the list grew to way more than 5 things. When I got to 5, there were more, so I kept going.
Pretty soon, I wasn’t screaming at the top of my lungs, in crisis, but being quietly aware that I had cause to be grateful.
After a while, it became my mission to find something to be grateful for in every bad situation. My motto became “It could always be worse” (a far cry from little miss glass-half-empty).
Eventually, I began to seek out things to be grateful for, even when I wasn’t in crisis.
I began to think on all that I had on a regular basis. I began the day with a word of thanksgiving for all I already had, before my mind had a chance to tally up all the things I wanted but didn’t have, for the day.

I became one of those people who “always sees the bright side” (Imagine that! And, again, the gods chuckle with ironic mirth)

When the plane is delayed, I say “I am happy they are taking an extra hard look at it, so it will be safe. We will leave when we are meant to”.
When the money runs out before the next paycheck, I feel, “we are not ‘broke’. We are between money. More will be along shortly, and probably just in the nick of time“.
(it always is, too, by the way)

The more mindfully grateful I became, the more my life began to resemble what I really wanted from it.
As like always attracts like, my gratitude for all I had, began to attract more things to be grateful for.

I began to see that the most powerful first step in manifesting new blessings was to mindfully take stock of all I already had. Not to identify what was missing.

I believe that we, as humans, are not only capable of living our gratitude, but are best served by it.
We demonstrate our faith and trust in the Universe and its plan we don’t always have a clear concept of.
We are a light to others who struggle along their way.
We add power and energy to our mundane and magical workings because we are grateful, not just for what we ask for and expect to receive, but also for all we have already been given.

Gratitude is a direct line to the Divine through which we feel their nurturing, provision and connectedness.

I ask, this season of Thanksgiving, as you tuck in to a sumptuous meal shared with friends and loved ones, that you take a moment to count your blessings, and ask to be reminded regularly of all you have been blessed with.

Oh, and, can somebody pass the pumpkin pie?!

Brightest Blessings of the Season,