The Inner Circle

Cailleach Bhéara,

Veiled One of stone and storm,

Hag of the mountain spine,

Keeper of winter’s law,

I feel you moving now

Each New Year arrives like a quiet knock at the door, an invitation to step across a threshold. It asks you to pause, to feel the living landscape within, and to honor the rhythms of your body and mind. Every breath, every choice, every act of care has been held in memory, woven into the fabric of your nervous system. What once felt like willpower or resolution now shows itself as living tissue, reshaping through attention, experience, and gentle repetition. Neuroscience calls this neuroplasticity, showing that your brain can form new pathways throughout life. Change is present in the pulse of your heart, the rhythm of your breath, and in the careful noticing of your own sensations.

Joseph Campbell teaches that transformation unfolds when we step into the unknown, when we attend to the subtle and not-so-subtle invitations life places before us. He reminds us, “We must be willing to…

The moon rises swollen and golden, draped in the heat of her own courage. She asks not for perfection, but for presence, for the brave shedding of what no longer fits the shape of your becoming.

This is the Harvest Moon, the great threshing floor of the soul. Here we gather what has ripened, release what is finished, and stand - bare, honest, luminous - before the altar of our next becoming.

You are invited into a ritual of fire and renewal, a rite to call your courage home, to honor what has ended well, and to meet the coming dark with your own light blazing steady and true.

Harvest Moon.

I lay the old story down like wheat on the threshing floor