Physical Setting & Preparation
Ullachadh Corporra & Deasachadh
Find yourself where summer's abundance meets its first whispers of decline—perhaps among fruit trees heavy with ripened offerings yet showing leaves touched by stress, in a garden where some flowers bloom magnificently while others have already spent their glory, or where the golden light holds both warmth and the subtle promise of shorter days ahead.
Feel your body responding to this seasonal threshold. Notice the gratitude that arises for summer's gifts—the warmth on your skin, the abundance of growth around you, the long days that have nourished both earth and spirit. Yet also acknowledge any resentment that may surface—perhaps for opportunities missed, for the inevitable passing of this season, for promises unfulfilled or expectations unmet.
Let both feelings exist within you without judgment, like late summer light that contains both golden celebration and amber mourning.
Opening Invocation | Fosgladh
Gairm Tòiseachaidh
Màthair na Talmhainn, ann an àm na toradh
Mother of Earth, in the time of harvest
Gabh ris ar taing agus ar diombadh
Accept our gratitude and our disappointment
Seall dhomh an naomhachd anns na dhà
Show me the holiness in both
Gus am bi gach faireachdainn na beannachd
Until every feeling becomes blessing
I call upon the ancient wisdom that flows through harvest time—when the earth offers both the joy of fulfillment and the sorrow of completion, when abundance and scarcity dance together in the eternal rhythm of seasons. Here, in this liminal moment between summer's peak and autumn's calling, I open myself to the complex teaching of gratitude and resentment.
The Mother Earth shows me that both feelings arise from the same source: a heart that cares deeply, that hopes, that invests in life's unfolding. Gratitude flows from appreciation of what has been received, while resentment arises from the gap between what was hoped for and what has manifested.
Body of the Working | Corp
Corp na h-Obrach
Feel into the lived reality of late summer's complex emotional landscape. All around you, evidence of the season's generosity abounds—trees laden with fruit, gardens overflowing with vegetables, flowers blooming in their final magnificent display. This abundance naturally evokes gratitude, a warm expansion in your chest, a sense of being blessed by life's endless creativity and provision.
Tha mo chridhe làn taing
My heart is full of gratitude
Airson measan an t-samhraidh
For summer's fruits
Airson blàthan is duillean
For flowers and leaves
Airson gach rud a thug an talamh
For everything the earth has given
Yet alongside this gratitude, notice what else arises. Perhaps resentment toward the relentless pace of growth and decay, frustration with your own limitations in receiving or appreciating all that has been offered, or bitterness about dreams that remain unfulfilled despite the season's abundance. There may be anger at time's passage, at opportunities missed, at the way life moves forward regardless of your readiness.
Feel how both emotions live in your body. Gratitude as warmth, expansion, a sense of fullness and connection. Resentment as heat of a different kind—perhaps tension in the jaw, constriction in the throat, a burning in the belly that speaks to unmet needs and unresolved disappointments.
Tha mo chridhe goirt cuideachd
My heart is also sore
Le dìombach mu na chaill mi
With disappointment about what I lost
Mu àm a dh'fhalbh gun tilleadh
About time that left without returning
Mu dhòchas nach do choilean
About hopes that didn't fulfill
The Deep Working | An Obair Dhomhain
An Obair Dhomhain
Sink deeper into this harvest teaching. Imagine yourself as an ancient fruit tree at the end of summer. Your branches are heavy with some of the finest fruit you've ever produced—sweet, juicy, perfect specimens that represent years of growth, patience, and the right combination of rain and sunshine. You feel deep gratitude for the conditions that allowed such abundance, for the bees that pollinated your blossoms, for the earth that fed your roots.
Yet some of your fruit never developed properly. Some blossoms fell before they could set fruit. Some promising young fruits were damaged by storms or pests. You carry both the satisfaction of what has succeeded and the ache of what has been lost or never had the chance to flourish.
Tha mi mar chraobh-mheas aig deireadh an t-samhraidh
I am like a fruit tree at summer's end
Mo mheasan math air abaich
My good fruits ripened
Mo dhòchas gann gun choilean
My unfulfilled hopes fallen
Gach cuid dhiubh pàirt de mo sgeulachd
Both of them part of my story
Feel how the Mother Earth holds both your abundant harvest and your losses with equal tenderness. Her healing flows not just through the gratitude for what has been received, but also through the resentment for what has been denied or delayed. She teaches that resentment, when approached with consciousness, reveals the depth of our caring, the magnitude of our investment in life's possibilities.
Your resentment is not a character flaw but evidence of a heart that dares to want, to hope, to expect goodness from existence. It shows that you haven't become cynical or closed off, that you still believe enough in life's potential to feel disappointed when it falls short of that potential.
Ann an gaol na Màthar, tha gach faireachdainn ceart
In the Mother's love, every feeling is right
Ann an gràs na Màthar, tha gach diombadh naomh
In the Mother's grace, every disappointment is holy
Oir tha iad a' nochdadh mar a tha mi gu tùr beò
Because they show how fully alive I am
Let yourself feel both the deep satisfaction of gratitude and the fierce ache of resentment without trying to resolve the tension between them. These are both expressions of love—gratitude as love appreciating what is, resentment as love grieving what could have been. The Mother's wisdom encompasses both, holding space for the full spectrum of a heart that engages completely with existence.
You are both the harvest celebration and the mourning song, both the thanksgiving feast and the lament for what never came to fruition. In embracing both, you honor the full depth of your humanity and your capacity to care so deeply that even disappointment becomes a form of devotion.
Afterthought | Smuain Dheiridh
Smuain Dheiridh
Take a moment to contemplate:
What would it mean to recognize your resentment as evidence of how much you care, rather than as a character flaw to overcome? How might your gratitude and your disappointments both serve as offerings on the altar of a life fully lived?
Dè bhiodh ann nam b' aithne dhut gu bheil do dhroch-bheachd mar fhianais air cia mhòr 's a tha thu gu dìol, seach mar lochd caractar ri faighinn thairis air?
What would it mean if you recognized your resentment as evidence of how much you care, rather than as a character flaw to overcome?
Closing Blessing | Beannachd Dheiridh
Beannachd Dheiridh
Màthair na Talmhainn, tha sinn taingeil
Mother of Earth, we are grateful
Airson gach beannachd a thug thu
For every blessing you gave
Agus airson ar cead a bhith diombach
And for our permission to be disappointed
Nuair nach do choilean ar dòchas
When our hopes were not fulfilled
Thig sinn a-rithist le cridheachan iomlan
We come again with whole hearts
A ghabhas ris gach rud a thig
That accept everything that comes
May the wisdom of harvest time live within you—the knowing that gratitude and resentment are both sacred responses to a life lived with an open heart. May you carry the fruit tree's satisfaction with its abundant gifts and its honest grief for what never had the chance to grow.
Go forth blessed by the Mother's complete acceptance: that your gratitude honors what has been received, and your resentments honor what was worthy of hope. Both are prayers offered by a soul brave enough to care deeply about this mysterious gift of existence.
Beannachd leat anns gach taing
Blessing with you in every gratitude
Beannachd leat anns gach diombadh
Blessing with you in every disappointment