Tomorrow, according to the pagan wheel of the year, is first harvest.  Historically it was the Celtic day celebrating the beginning of the wheat harvest, it is the first opportunity to count the gains of the year.  It lies opposite on the wheel to Imbolc, otherwise known as Candlemas on February 1, the day which marks the coming of light.  It could be said that Lammas, August 1, could be called the coming of the dark.  It is the point of the year which the focus turns from celebrating new gifts which have come into out lives, to reaping them and taking them into the self.

My affinity with the wheel of the year extends through half my life.  It is a well known knowledge that I can direct my focus and growth across the seasons, and that doing so will bring me balance.  It has not always been something I’ve been willing to do, or admit is important to me.  Over the past 18 months this course of the year has increased in importance, overtime I’ve reconciled with it’s spiritual utility.  I sat with the recognized course on Imbolc as I sat clingy to the smallest signs of the coming spring, and contemplating the seeds of my intentions planted within me.

While I have enjoyed these  light-bearing months, and have taken the fullest advantage of new opportunities it is nearing time to stop planting and begin taking in this year’s yield of skills, lessons, and revelations.  Tomorrow, I must find within myself the strength to take on this task.  Figure out the tools I will need to carry it out.  To also appropriately mourn choice being in abundance, while also being able to sit an contemplate what I have and nothing else.

Knowing my course does not ease the tediousness of the path.  If anything, knowing what lies ahead brings with it a responsibility to make the journey safe and fulfilling.  As my last year was about discovering my course in life, this one has been about mapping it.  Tomorrow I begin preparations for the harvest, and figure out what is still needed to have a successful winter.