I don’t tend to watch the news. As a Witch, I know that my powers of visualization are sharper than most, and I have to be careful upon what I focus my attention. Becoming a mother seems to have intensified the ability to visualize. I’m certain that I’m not the only mother out there who, upon hearing a news report of an abandoned child, a rape victim, a war-ravaged village, clutches her child a little tighter and breathes a prayer of gratitude.

It is ironic – the nightly news drones on with morbid sensationalism with very little of anything “new” to report. It’s the same stories filled with all the atrocities that humans can do to themselves, to each other, and to the planet. The names and faces and locations change, but the constant seems to be that the human race seems to be accelerating in its ability to make really bad decisions. I have my own theories about what is occurring, but regardless of whether I’m right, or the analysts are right, or Chicken Little is right, the simple fact remains that (a) there’s big trouble brewing and (b) we’re going to have to muddle through the days to come.

I usually do better listening to my news on the radio on the way into work in the morning. My NPR is my commuting friend. Between the ever-pleasant voices of “those in the know” and a hot thermal mug filled with tea, it’s not too bad a way to start interfacing with the mundane world. But lately, between the economic crisis and what promises to be one of the most pivotal elections our country has ever seen, I find myself poised on the edge of readiness, like an animal feeling a storm coming in and knowing it’s about time to seek shelter before She blows.

These are actually the times that I’m most grateful for my path and my spirituality. I find peace in the knowledge that life is circular and not linear, that what comes to us soon passes. So, these turbulent times do not engender in me the fear that becomes the talk of coffee lines and bank teller windows. Even death has no sting for a Witch… granted, it’s inconvenient for the curtain to come down and have to go back to the casting bench, but there’s always another role to be had, another part to play, and we meet and know and love again.

What concerns me, however, is whether or not those who follow the Wheel realize the importance of turning with it in these unsettled days. The Wheel is more than just a metaphor for the basics of our spirituality. The Wheel is a tool in and of itself… a tool that the wise Witch uses carefully and willfully.

The Wheel has power. It holds the power of prophecy, assuring us that all will come around again. It holds the power of instruction, showing us the momentum of the rise and fall of a day, of a year, of a life. It also holds the power of the natural wisdom of all things, for all creatures are bound to the cycles metered out by the Wheel, and those most in tune find abundance and survival in its ancient rhythms.

The message of the Wheel is very simple: move with me, or be ground under me. And it is this lesson that I wonder if Witches are heeding in our current crisis.

As we stand on the threshold of Autumn, I watch the squirrels in my backyard scurrying to gather the hickory nuts that make walking down the back hill a challenge. As I try to avoid looking like a Daffy Duck cartoon sketch – for Mother has rolled her marbles out on the forest floor! – I find myself impressed at the industry of these animals. They feel the winter coming. They know what to do.

Do we know what to do? I wonder.

Most animals in tune with the Wheel know they have to conserve to survive. Yet, I have to ask… are we following their natural example? Do you have a savings account? Is your home that will weather the winter storms in good repair? Do you have ample food? Have you minimized your debts so the wolf stays far from the door? No, these are not things we usually teach in magick class, but they are vital earth sphere lessons that sustain us when the Wheel slows and trudges on through the cold months between one harvest season and the planting for the next one.

Samhaine used to be the time when all that was unnecessary was culled and transformed into consumable, usable stores. Herds were slaughtered, and careful choices were made to kill just enough to provide meat for survival, yet not so much that no breeding stock would be left. To not kill enough would mean improper use of stores to feed the herds during the barren times and could lead to the starvation of further animals or family members because of poor asset management.

Our removal from farming culture sometimes is one of the greatest detriments in the modern practice of the Craft. It takes conscious effort to realize that meat doesn’t come from a grocery store. Even famine and starvation, which are common in most countries, are things that are hard to comprehend (We’re sitting here interfacing on Witchvox, so we’ve got some spare cash, don’t we?) . Still, comprehending these real possibilities is a thing we must do.

We may not have herds to cull, but we have things that drain our resources. Debts, credit cards, subscriptions to wireless services and satellite dishes, cable bills… all of these things require our energetic maintenance in the form of money. How in control of your “herd of obligations” are you? Are you aware that, in the potential winter of our economic situation, that getting a handle on what you have to “feed” all year long may make the difference between a comfortable winter and a “rob Peter to pay Paul” kind of existence? And longer term, how is the gathering of that retirement account coming along? From what I hear, trusting the government to feed us during the winter of our lives might not be the best of ideas.

The Universe is abundant, and in America, we are especially blessed. We have running water and toilet paper. We get the luxury of having “moods” for what we want to eat instead of eating rice, day in and day out and being grateful for the monotony that means the difference between living and dying. Abundance is there. The question is, do we take it for granted?

I love the autumn season for its beauty and grace, but when that first hard nip of a cold October morning bites my nose, I remember that death waits patiently at the door. I am blessed that I don’t have to scrape for survival, but neither am I using my abundance to the fullest of my ability. Autumn, for me, is not a season of sweat and toil as it was for my ancestors. And that is just asking for the Wheel to grind me beneath it.

As I pull into the parking lot at work and switch off the radio, I hear a heavy plunk on the roof of my car. I open the door just in time to watch an acorn tumble-slide down the windshield to the frantic chattering of my grey-tailed brother on the branch above me. I put the acorn in my pocket, my talisman for the day, for the season, and thank the squirrel for the offering. The acorn won’t feed my family, but for a moment – as blazing as the leaves over my head – I remember my place on the Wheel and my duty as a Witch.

Transformed, I scamper off into the office – maybe not quite so bushy-tailed on a Monday – to earn a few more “nuts”. A lesson has been well-stored and there’s work to be done.

Published 10/12/08, Witchvox Feature Article.