Meditation: May 31st, 2025
"In the depths of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against...."
Physical Setting & Preparation
Position yourself at the very threshold of seasons—perhaps on a doorstep between inside and outside, or at the edge where garden meets wild meadow. If indoors, place one foot on earth-filled pottery and one on wooden flooring, symbolizing transition. Light both a white candle (for May's ending) and a golden one (for June's beginning). Feel the late spring air on your skin, notice how it carries both the fresh green scent of new growth and the warmer promise of approaching summer. Breathe deeply, allowing your body to settle into this liminal moment where one season prepares to birth another.
Opening Invocation | Fosgladh
Deireadh na Cèitein, toiseach an t-Samhraidh
(End of May, beginning of Summer)
On this final day of May, we stand witness to time's great turning wheel. The Hawthorn Queen has crowned herself in white blossoms, the Oak King prepares to claim his throne, and we—caught between what was and what will be—embody the eternal dance of endings and beginnings. In this sacred pause, we acknowledge the complexity of human emotion as we hold both devastation and rejuvenation within our hearts.
Tha mi nam sheasamh aig an doras
(I stand at the doorway)
Like the earth herself, who simultaneously grieves winter's final departure while celebrating summer's imminent arrival, we learn to hold space for life's profound contradictions. In devastation, we know the fierce stripping away that makes space for new growth. In rejuvenation, we taste the sweet uprising of life force that transforms ash into phoenix.
A Mhàthair na Talmhainn, thoir dhomh neart
(Mother Earth, give me strength)
Beloved Mother, Máthair na Talmhainn, you who have weathered countless destructions and rebirths, who transforms every ending into a beginning, we come to you carrying both the weight of what has been lost and the lightness of what seeks to be born. Teach us the wisdom of the forest floor, where death feeds life in endless, sacred cycles.
Body of the Working | Corp
Briseadh agus ath-thogail
(Breaking and rebuilding)
Feel into your devastation—that raw, exposed place where life has stripped you bare, where loss has carved hollow spaces in your chest, where dreams have crumbled like autumn leaves beneath winter's harsh wind. This devastation is not your enemy; it is the earth's own process of clearing away what no longer serves to make space for what seeks to emerge. Notice where this feeling lives in your body. Does it create a heaviness in your limbs? A constriction in your throat? An aching emptiness in your belly?
Tha beatha ùr a' fàs annam
(New life grows in me)
Now, simultaneously, become aware of your rejuvenation—that persistent, irrepressible force that pushes green shoots through concrete, that mends broken bones stronger than before, that finds hope in the darkest night. This is your life force, your essential nature that cannot be destroyed only transformed. Feel it as warmth spreading through your body, as energy rising from your core, as the quiet confidence of a seed that knows its time has come.
Cha deach mo bhriseadh
(I was not broken)
Recognize that your devastation and rejuvenation are not sequential—they are simultaneous, like the compost pile that is both decay and fertile ground, both ending and beginning. Your devastation creates the rich soil from which your rejuvenation springs. They are dance partners in the eternal waltz of becoming.
The Deep Working | An Obair Dhomhain
Sìos, sìos, gu ionad na h-ath-bhreith
(Down, down, to the place of rebirth)
Envision yourself dissolving into the earth's dark womb, where Máthair na Talmhainn tends the great cauldron of transformation. Here, in this place of ultimate composting, offer both your devastation and your rejuvenation to her alchemical embrace. Watch as she takes your grief and loss, not to eliminate them but to reveal their hidden gifts.
Dè tha thu ag ionnsachadh, a leanabh?
(What are you learning, child?)
Listen as she whispers: "Beloved, your devastation is not punishment—it is pruning. Just as I allow the storm to fell the mighty oak so that saplings may reach the light, I allow loss to clear your inner landscape for new growth. Your rejuvenation is not separate from your devastation—it is its sacred purpose made manifest."
Feel her ancient hands working with the raw material of your experience, showing you how every ending contains its own beginning, how every loss creates space for unexpected gain. The mountain that is worn down by wind and rain becomes the fertile valley. The star that dies in cosmic fire births the elements that become new worlds.
Tha mi air mo chaochladh
(I am transformed)
In this deep communion with earth's transformative power, understand that you are not broken by life's challenges—you are sculpted by them into ever more beautiful expressions of resilience and grace. Your devastation has taught you compassion for all who suffer. Your rejuvenation offers hope to all who despair.
Tha mi mar an talamh—buan agus caochlaideach
(I am like the earth—enduring and changeable)
See yourself as earth sees herself: eternally constant in her capacity for change, forever reliable in her ability to transform. You are not the victim of devastation—you are its sacred alchemist. You are not merely rejuvenated—you are rejuvenation itself, the very force that turns winter into spring.
Afterthought | Smuain Dheiridh
An urrainn dhomh gabhail ri mo bhriseadh mar naomhachd?
(Can I accept my brokenness as sacred?)
Take a moment to contemplate:
How might I honor both my devastation and my rejuvenation as essential aspects of my spiritual evolution, recognizing that like the earth's seasons, they are not problems to be solved but sacred processes to be embraced?
Closing Blessing | Beannachd Dheiridh
Beannachd na h-ath-bhreith ort
(The blessing of rebirth upon you)
As you prepare to step into June's golden embrace, carry with you the profound truth that you are simultaneously the ground that receives the seed and the seed that grows toward light. Your devastation and your rejuvenation are not evidence of your brokenness but proof of your wholeness.
Slàn leat, a Chèitean
(Farewell, May)
Fàilte ort, a' t-Ògmhios
(Welcome, June)
Walk forward knowing that you are held in the eternal cycle of destruction and creation, death and birth, ending and beginning. You are not at the mercy of these forces—you ARE these forces, expressing themselves through the sacred vessel of your human experience.
Tha gaol agam ort, a bheatha
(I love you, life)
I needed today’s meditation- reassuring myself that in life- “ This is my life force, my essential nature that cannot be destroyed, only transformed! “😌💖 Thank you for your uplifting meditation posts.