Meditation: July 2nd, 2025
Physical Setting & Preparation
Seek a place of natural contrast—perhaps beside a thorny hedge blooming with roses, or at the edge where cultivated garden meets wild wood. If indoors, position yourself facing north, with a piece of obsidian or dark stone in your left hand and a small cup of water in your right. Light a red candle for the fire of transformation. Allow your body to feel both vulnerable and fierce—spine erect like a guardian tree, breath steady like waves that wear down the hardest rock.
Feel the midsummer heat as it presses against your skin, notice how even in this season of abundance, shadows grow long and deep. Your nervous system should be alert but not alarmed—like a deer at the forest edge, aware of both beauty and danger. Rest your feet firmly on earth, drawing strength from the Mother who has weathered every storm and transmuted every poison into nourishment.
Opening Invocation | Fosgladh
A Mháthair chruthach | Creative Mother Glacaim leat san dorchadas | I come to you in darkness Le mo fhuath agus mo eagla | With my hate and my fear Ag iarraidh do leighis | Seeking your healing
In this second day of July's burning, when the sun's power feels almost merciless in its intensity, we turn toward the shadow emotions that scorch through human hearts like wildfire through drought-dry grass. Feel the weight of this moment—summer's blazing confidence holding space for the very feelings that seem to oppose all growth and flourishing.
Visualize roots of dark fire extending from your tailbone deep into the earth's molten core, where the Mother keeps her forge of transformation. Here, in the planet's fierce heart, all toxins are transmuted, all poisons become medicine. The earth beneath you has absorbed the hatred and terror of countless beings across millennia, composting it all into the rich soil that feeds new life.
Body of the Working | Corp
In summer's relentless brightness, we dive into the emotions that humanity fears most to feel—fuath (hate) and eagla (fear)—not to be consumed by them, but to understand their sacred function as the earth's most powerful teachers of boundaries, discernment, and fierce protection.
Focusing on Hate
Breathe into the places where rageful energy pools in your body—perhaps in your jaw, your fists, the burning hollow of your chest. Do not soften or spiritualize this feeling away, but let yourself know its full ferocious power. Hate is not evil—it is love with fierce boundaries, the Mother Bear's snarl when her cubs are threatened.
Feel how this emotion moves like molten lava through your veins—destructive when misdirected, but creative when consciously channeled. The earth herself demonstrates hate's sacred function: volcanoes spewing molten rock that destroys old landscapes to birth new islands, forest fires that clear undergrowth so new growth can reach the light.
Your hatred may be turned toward injustice, toward those who harm the innocent, toward systems that crush what is beautiful and sacred. Feel this as righteous anger, the warrior aspect of love that refuses to allow desecration. But notice too how hate can become a prison, how it can devour the hater more completely than the hated.
Tá an fhuath | Hate is Mar thine i ndorchadas | Like fire in darkness Féadfaidh sé a dhó | It can burn Nó solas a thabhairt | Or give light
Focusing on Fear
Now turn toward the terrified trembling that lives in your nervous system—the ancient animal knowing that danger lurks beyond the circle of firelight. Feel how fear moves through you like cold wind through winter trees, stripping away pretense, revealing the vulnerable creature that beats beneath all your defenses.
Fear is the earth's gift of discernment, the intuitive knowing that keeps the deer alert to the wolf's approach, that teaches the plant to grow away from poison. Your panicked response to threat is millions of years of evolutionary wisdom moving through cellular memory. Honor this intelligence even as you examine which fears serve life and which serve only the ego's illusions of separation.
Feel into your deepest terrors—death, abandonment, meaninglessness, the dissolution of everything you hold dear. But also feel how the earth holds space for all afraid creatures, how the Mother's vast presence contains every terror within an even vaster love. Your fear is not your enemy but your teacher, showing you exactly where you need healing, exactly where you need to grow stronger or softer.
Is í an eagla | Fear is Múinteoir | A teacher Ag taispeáint an bealach | Showing the way Chuig an misneach | To courage
The Deep Working | An Obair Dhomhain
Descend now into the earth's transformative belly, where poisons become medicines and enemies become teachers. Feel yourself as both the threatened and the threatening, both the feared and the one who fears. In this place of sacred paradox, discover how hate and fear are not obstacles to love but love's fierce protectors.
Imagine yourself as a tree whose roots draw nourishment from the corpses of ancient predators, whose trunk grows strong from lightning strikes survived, whose branches reach toward light precisely because they know darkness so intimately. You are simultaneously vulnerable and powerful, both predator and prey in the great web of existence.
In this depth, feel how your hate transforms into fierce compassion—not the soft compassion that enables harm, but the diamond-hard compassion that says "No more" to cruelty. Feel how your fear transforms into exquisite sensitivity—not the paralysis of trauma, but the alert awareness that keeps what is precious safe from harm.
San domhain | In the depths Tá an fhuath agus an eagla | Hate and fear are Mar choinnle | Like candles Ag lasadh solas | Lighting the way Don ghrá fíor | To true love
Let yourself be held in the Mother's vast embrace where every emotion is sacred, where even hatred and fear are forms of love protecting what cannot be replaced. Feel the terrible beauty of being a creature capable of such intensity, such passionate engagement with existence.
Breathe with the rhythm of summer storms—the sudden lightning of rage illuminating hidden truths, the thunder of fear shaking loose what needs to fall away, the cooling rain of transformation washing clean what remains.
Afterthought | Smuain Dheiridh
Take a moment to contemplate:
What is your hate trying to protect that you hold sacred? What is your fear trying to teach you about what matters most deeply to you? How might these fierce emotions become allies in your service to life rather than obstacles to your peace?
Closing Blessing | Beannachd Dheiridh
Go raibh an Mháthair leat | May the Mother be with you I do fhuath fírinneach | In your truthful hate Agus i d'eagla eagna | And in your wise fear Go dtí go bhfoghlaimeoidh tú | Until you learn A bheith ina gcomharsana | To be their neighbor Seachas a bheith ina bpríosúnach | Rather than their prisoner
Slán go fóill | Farewell for now
Feel the midsummer sun as witness to your courage in facing these shadow emotions. Know that you carry within you both the capacity for fierce protection and tender vulnerability, both the sword and the shield, both the storm and the shelter. The earth beneath you has transformed every poison into medicine—trust that you too can learn this ancient alchemy.
Rise when you are ready, carrying the wisdom that even your darkest emotions are sacred messengers, deserving of respect rather than rejection, integration rather than exile.