A Ritual for Honoring Thresholds

Some part of me tracks them even when I am asleep. I’m awake now, but before I open my eyes, I reach for them with my senses. Sight isn’t very useful at this time. I know the state of them mostly by smell. For now, they smell earthy and a little sweet; no sourness or sharp pungency to send alarm bells racing through my blood.

She is a great mother. Her fire is the fierce protection of life. When threatened, she rises like a mountain of earth—vast, immovable. Her power pours outward as love, a river forever flowing. Despite her great size, she moves with the swiftness of wind when she must. Within her lives the potency of emptiness, and she is strengthened by the nourishment of all the elements.