Meditation: May 6, 2025
"The veil between worlds grows thin not only at Samhain, but also in these whispering days of May, when the earth's breath rises like mist and the oldest stones remember their first songs."
Physical Setting & Preparation
Find a place near flowing water—a stream, river, or even a garden fountain. If water is not accessible, bring a bowl of water and a stone. Sit on the earth with your back straight but not rigid. Place your palms upward on your knees, receiving the growing light of early summer. Remove any watches or devices that measure time. Take seven slow breaths, exhaling longer than you inhale, to settle your awareness into this sacred moment.
Opening Invocation | Fosgladh
Anns an àite seo eadar là is là,
Eadar an t-sìl is am bàrr,
Eadar an talamh is an speur,
Tha mi a' seasamh aig doras an eòlais.
Air an t-siathamh là den Chèitean,
Tha mi a' sireadh gliocas is sealladh.
In this place between day and day,
Between seed and harvest,
Between earth and sky,
I stand at the door of knowing.
On this sixth day of May,
I seek wisdom and vision.
Body of the Working | Corp
Feel the quickening energy of early May around you. The earth has fully awakened from winter's sleep, and life pulses with undeniable vigor. Birds call to their mates, insects hum among new blossoms, and the sap rises through countless growing things. You are surrounded by this tide of life—part of it, moved by it, connected to its ancient rhythms.
Tha sruthan a' ruith,
Tha eòin a' seinn,
Tha mise beò
'S an t-saoghal a' fas.
Streams are flowing,
Birds are singing,
I am alive
As the world grows.
As the world brightens toward summer, notice how you feel nostalgic within this season of renewal. Though surrounded by new life, there may be a sweet ache for what has passed—memories of previous springs, people no longer present, younger versions of yourself. Place one hand over your heart and acknowledge this tender feeling. Like the rings of a tree, each year adds its circle of experience to your being.
At the same time, observe the awe that rises within you at the miraculous unfolding of life. The perfect symmetry of leaves, the impossible journey of migratory birds, the silent intelligence that guides all growth—these wonders have not diminished despite your having witnessed many springs. Place your other hand on your belly and breathe into this feeling of wonder.
Tha mo chuimhneachan mar dhuilleach,
A' tuiteam is a' fàs às ùr.
Tha m' iongnadh mar abhainn,
A' sruthadh gun stad.
My memories are like leaves,
Falling and growing anew.
My wonder is like a river,
Flowing without cease.
The Deep Working | An Obair Dhomhain
Now, direct your attention to the water before you—whether stream, river, or bowl. Water holds memory; it has been cycling through the earth since before humans walked upon it. The water you see has been cloud, rain, sea, ice, tear, and blood countless times. It carries the memory of all it has touched.
Your nostalgia is not separate from the earth's own memory. The land remembers every footstep, every fallen leaf, every season's turning. Your personal memories are tributaries flowing into this greater river of remembrance.
Mar a chuimhnicheas an talamh,
Tha mise a' cuimhneachadh.
Mar a ghluaiseas an t-uisge,
Tha m' anam a' gluasad.
As the earth remembers,
So do I remember.
As the water moves,
So moves my soul.
Touch the water with your fingertips. Feel its cool clarity. Water does not cling to the past, though it carries all history within it. It moves forward, always seeking its path. This is the wisdom of nostalgia when held in balance—honoring what has been while continuing to flow.
Now, pick up a stone from beside the water (or use the one you brought). Feel its weight, its solidity. Stones exist in a different relationship with time than we do. They have witnessed countless human generations come and pass. When you feel awe at nature's grandeur, you touch this ancient perspective.
An clach seo 'nam làimh,
Nas sine na mo shinnsearachd,
Tha i a' teagasg dhomh,
Mu bhith-bhuantachd is atharrachadh.
This stone in my hand,
Older than my ancestry,
Teaches me,
About eternity and change.
Hold both water and stone awareness within you. Your capacity for nostalgia connects you to all who have lived before—their joys, sorrows, and wisdom. Your capacity for awe connects you to the eternal present moment—the only time when transformation is possible. The Mother of the Earth holds both memory and wonder in perfect balance, healing through this integration.
Afterthought | Smuain Dheiridh
Take a moment to contemplate:
How might your nostalgia be transformed from mere longing into deeper wisdom? How can your sense of awe bring you more fully into the present moment rather than distracting you from it?
Closing Blessing | Beannachd Dheiridh
Gu robh cuimhne na talmhainn a' gabhail còmhnaidh annad,
Gu robh gliocas an uisge a' sruthadh tromhad,
Gu robh neart nan clachan gad chumail,
Gu robh ioghnadh na beatha a' lasadh do shùilean,
A-nis agus gu bràth.
May the memory of the earth dwell within you,
May the wisdom of water flow through you,
May the strength of stones sustain you,
May the wonder of life light your eyes,
Now and forever.
Before you leave this place, return the stone to the earth with gratitude. If you used a bowl of water, pour it onto the ground as an offering. Carry with you the understanding that nostalgia and awe are not opposing forces but complementary powers that, when balanced, open doorways to deeper wisdom and more authentic presence.