“The Earth is what we all have in common.” - Wendell Berry
Physical Setting & Preparation
Find a space where you can feel the weight of the year’s turning—outdoors among fallen leaves if possible, or inside where you can touch something from the natural world: a stone, a piece of wood, a bowl of earth. Settle cross-legged on the ground or in a chair with your feet planted firmly. Place your hands flat against your thighs, palms pressing down as if drawing strength from the earth through your bones. Let the scent of decomposing leaves and the particular quality of late September light fill your awareness.
Opening Invocation | Fosgladh
A Mhàthair na cruinne, gabh rium - Mother of the universe, accept me
The wheel turns another notch toward winter’s deep wisdom, and I feel September’s final days weighing heavy as stones in my chest. The air carries the mineral scent of first frost, the green departing from leaf and stem, leaving behind the skeleton architecture of what remains. Each breath tastes of endings and of the pregnant pause before new beginnings.
Tha mi a’ tighinn dhachaigh riut - I am coming home to you
In this sacred threshold time, I place my trust in the ancient rhythm that has turned since the first spark of life caught flame. The Mother’s body beneath me holds the memory of every autumn that ever was, every dying that fed new life.
Body of the Working | Corp
Today the currents of melancholic and assertive flow through my being like two rivers joining in the valley of my heart.
Tha mi bronach mar an geamhradh a’ tighinn - I am sad like winter coming
Melancholy seeps through me like morning mist rising from warm earth into cold air. It is not the sharp pain of fresh grief but the deep, sweet sorrow that comes with wisdom—the knowing that all beautiful things must pass, that every golden leaf must fall, that the very preciousness of life lies in its fleeting nature. The Mother Earth herself wears this melancholy like a cloak as she prepares to let her children go into winter’s keeping.
I taste this sorrow on my tongue, metallic as blood, rich as dark soil. It flows through my chest like honey mixed with tears, honoring all that has been lost, all that will be lost, all that must be released so that new life may come. The melancholy is not weakness but depth—the same depth that allows roots to reach toward underground springs, that lets the ocean hold both storm and calm in its vast embrace.
Yet from this very depth rises something fierce and unyielding.
Tha mi làidir mar an darach - I am strong like the oak
Assertive power surges up through my spine like sap rising in spring, though now it carries autumn’s concentrated wisdom. This is not aggression but the quiet, unshakeable strength of stone, the persistent force of water carving canyons, the oak’s refusal to be uprooted by winter storms. The Mother teaches this assertiveness in the way mountains thrust toward sky, in how rivers insist on reaching the sea despite all obstacles.
Tha mo bhròn a’ toirt neart dhomh - My sorrow gives me strength
I discover that melancholy and assertion are not opposites but partners in sacred alchemy. The deep feeling of loss makes precious what remains, sharpens the edge of my commitment to life, to love, to the continuation of beauty in this world. Like compost feeding the garden, my sorrow nourishes the fierce determination to make meaning from what time I am given.
The Deep Working | An Obair Dhomhain
Rach sìos gu cridhe na talmhainn - Go down to the heart of the earth
I descend through layers of consciousness like autumn leaves settling into soil, finding the place where sorrow and strength merge into singular power. Here, in the Mother’s deepest chamber, I meet the source of all feeling, all knowing, all becoming.
The Mother’s voice rises from the bedrock of being: “Child of my body, see how the mountains carry both the weight of ages and the proud thrust toward heaven. Feel how the great trees bend in sorrow over their fallen leaves yet stand assertive against the storm. Your melancholy is my memory of all that has been; your assertion is my promise of all that shall be.”
I breathe with the rhythm of geological time, feeling my small griefs and fierce loves become part of the greater current that moves through stone and star. My melancholic heart expands to hold the sorrows of all beings, while my assertive spirit aligns with the unstoppable force that drives life forward through every darkness.
Tha mi pàirt den rud mhòr - I am part of the great thing
In this place beyond ordinary knowing, I understand that my personal melancholy serves the larger work of honoring what passes, while my assertion joins the cosmic insistence that consciousness continue, that beauty persist, that love find new forms in which to express itself.
The very earth beneath me pulses with this dual rhythm: the patient acceptance of loss and the fierce commitment to regeneration. My emotions are not my own but part of the planet’s great feeling, the universe’s way of experiencing itself through forms that can weep and rage and love and fight for what matters.
Afterthought | Smuain Dheiridh
Take a moment to contemplate:
How does the Mother Earth teach you that true strength often grows from the soil of acknowledged sorrow? What in your life calls for the assertive protection that can only come from having deeply felt what is precious enough to defend?
Closing Blessing | Beannachd Dheiridh
A Mhàthair dhìleas, thoir dhomh gliocas - Faithful Mother, give me wisdom
Rising from the deep places, I carry within me the integration of sorrow and strength, the marriage of feeling deeply and acting decisively. My feet find firm contact with the earth that has taught me this lesson, my breath fills with air that has learned to carry both grief and hope on the same wind.
Tha mo chridhe fosgailte agus làidir - My heart is open and strong
I go forward with melancholy as my teacher and assertion as my sword, knowing that both serve the greater work of life continuing, beauty persisting, love finding new ways to express itself in this world that needs both tears and fierce protection.
Beannachd na talmhainn ort - The earth’s blessing upon you
May this balance of deep feeling and strong action serve not only my own journey but the healing of the world that holds us all. May my sorrows water the garden of compassion, and my assertions protect what is too precious to lose.
Slàn leat gu oidhche mhath - Farewell until good night
Thanks