May I be as the one who weaves the cloth in a forest, deep hidden.

May I sit at the work, uninterrupted. 

And may I remain an outcast, if that is what it takes.

May I know the seasonal procession in my spirit and in my body,

Celebrate cross quarters, solstices and equinoxes.

May each Full Moon find me looking upwards, 

At trees outlined in luminous sky.

May I hold wildflowers.

May I cup them in my hand.  

May I then release them, unpicked,

To live on in abundance.

May my friends be of the kind who are at ease with silence.

May they and I be innocent of pretension.

May I be capable of gratitude. 

May I know that I was given joy, like mother’s milk.

May I know this as my dog does, in her bones and blood.

May I speak the truth about happiness and pain, 

In songs that sound of the scent of rosemary,

As everyday and ancient, kitchen-herb strong.

May I not incline to self-righteousness or self-pity.

May I approach the high earthworks and the stone circles as fox or moth,

And disturb the place no more than that.

May my gaze be direct and my hand steady.

May my door be open to those who dwell outside wealth and fame and privilege.

May those who have never walked barefoot never find the path that leads up to my door.

May they be lost on the labyrinthine journey.

May they turn back.

And may I sit beside the fire in winter and see in the glowing logs what is to come.

Yet never feel the need to warn or to advise, unasked.

May I sit upon a plain wooden chair, in true contentment.

May the place where I live be as the forest.

May there be track ways where there are caves and pools.

Trees and flowers, animals and birds are all known to me and revered, loved.

May my existence change the world no more nor less,

Than the gusting of winds, or the proud growth of trees.

For this, I go in cast-off clothes.

May I keep faith, always.

May I never find excuses for the expedient.

May I know that I have no choice, and yet still make the choice.

As the song is made, in joy, and with consideration.

May I make the same choice every day, again.

When I fail, may I know forgiveness for myself.

May I dance naked, unafraid to face my own reflection.

~From The Wiccan Path by Rae Beth


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