amazing grace

It was almost exactly a week ago that I landed back in my beloved city. This afternoon I finally feel fully at home. There’s a barley risotto simmering on the stove and the smell of rosemary, sage, and fresh spring garlic is wafting through the house. Barley is very low on the glycemic index, something that is important if you have diabetes. Using herbs from my garden, it is on its way to becoming just as tasty as the arborio rice risottos I cooked in the past. If you are managing diabetes with diet and exercise, rice, for the most part, is out. This Beltane is a time of change, the barley being one of many.

I spent a lot of time today on my rooftop garden, weeding, watering, and cutting the herbs that would go into tonight’s meal. Amidst the plants and with the lovely gnome Chomsky presiding, I mused on all the Beltane energies at play. At Samhain and again at Beltane, the veil is thin between the worlds. At Samhain, the veil is thin between the living and the dead, but at Beltane, the veil is thin between humans and the spirits of the wild and green. Seventeen years back I saw a giant toad in my back yard amongst the foxglove and made a wish for happiness. That day I conceived my son. Is it any wonder I believe in magic?

On Saturday I danced the maypole at my friend Anne’s, staying well past when most folks had left. My son and his best friend had come with me, their condition for coming being we would leave when they were ready. I never imagined they wouldn’t want to leave. Anne’s daughter is a year younger than my son, and after years of ignoring each other, they suddenly are back to being friends. The Beltane grin on his face when he turned to tell me it would be just a little bit longer, and then walked off to the beach with a hair tossing passel of teenage girls is now firmly implanted in my memory bank. This is a memory that will always have the power to make me smile.

It was good to be at Anne’s, amidst those we have come to call “Remaining”. Cora Anderson had died early Beltane morning, her timing being nothing but impeccable. Years back, I had visited the Andersons several times with my Feri coven, of which Anne and Thorn were a part of. I can’t remember much of what Victor specifically talked about, but I remember clearly Cora talking about making soup. I learned from her that the energy put into making a meal is just as important as the ingredients. Cora was a gardener and a cook, and practical magic was her specialty.

This morning at her memorial, many talked about Cora’s pragmatic magical practice. Looking around, I noticed that the only people from Reclaiming that were in attendance were those of us who are Remaining, the very same people who I’d visited with at Anne’s on Saturday. Anne, Thorn, Medusa, and Macha were all there to pay their respects. Cora had become real family to Thorn, but for me, this was a simple matter of honoring an esteemed elder. Robin and Rocky were there too, a couple who were instrumental in the development of early Reclaiming, but, like the bulk of other seasoned priest/esses of Reclaiming's past, they no longer count among the small group of us Remaining.

It struck me that this was also pretty much the same group that showed up for Susan North’s memorial service in January. For all the talk in Bay Area Reclaiming about community, it is striking how unimportant it seems to be to honor the history of individuals who have contributed to and made up the "community". Feri is one of the strong strands out of which Reclaiming is woven. Without Feri, without Cora, Reclaiming would look entirely different. This seems to be another form of practical and pragmatic magic, this putting energy into showing up for memorials and funerals, ritualizing the fact that people’s individual lives have mattered. As time goes on, it becomes clearer to me that potent magic doesn't just happen in cast circles, but in kitchens and the small kindness of good manners.

The service for Cora ended with her son leading us all in reciting together her recipe for coleslaw which was printed at the back of the program. Then, pie was served.

Anne drove me back to the city and I spent the afternoon in my rooftop garden. I thought about Beltane, about my son, and about Cora. And then, I started to make dinner. Magic is simple. It is everywhere, and it is in everything. Barley takes the place of rice, herbs are thrown in, and I stir in a good helping of health and well being. I know who will be showing up for dinner, and I count my blessings that I have people in my life who show up.

Thank you, Cora, for what you added to this world. Thank you, spirits of green and of the wild, for what you have added to my life.

This morning, a bag piper played Cora’s favorite song, “Amazing Grace” after everyone had spoken. I can’t have pie, but the sweetness is still everywhere. And, it’s amazing.