Written by Vanessa Anderson
“Not all who wander are lost” these are the words lapping the shores of my mind as I write, the message that I must convey, so I am going to borrow these words, these spells from Tolkien’s poem. Written for the Fellowship of the Ring – it talks of a return to power, however it relates to so much more.
We are all wanderers, if not of the land and distance, then belonging and understanding, but we wander nonetheless, or we wonder – no less. But, “not all who wander are lost”.
Some have passed, their time gone
Some have left, to leave behind.
Some have set off to find
Some have wandered and found wonder!
What we seek is particularly unique and inherently personal and what resonates for one may not resonate for others, but when it does, we gather in numbers, we gather our tribe and “from the ashes a fire shall be woken”.
In this made up, mixed up and tossed out world, a sacred journey often requires a shedding of the superfluous. It is in such times we now find ourselves and in precisely such time, we must find ourselves. The journey is often a step backwards, “deep roots are not reached by the frost.
The more we advance, in technology and medicine the further away from source we become, separate and further from the wandered path, like a spiral on a trajectory from core to outer rim and infinity, but we must never sever our self from core, from our roots.
Our roots keep us grounded, feet on soil, spirit to Gaia (Mother Earth), mother to soul, soul in ashes, “From the ashes a fire shall be woken, “ the circle of life. In the whorl, recognise a return to self, “A light from the shadows shall spring” the unseen, seen.
The way of Wicca, in case you forgot, reminds you that YOU ARE A MAGICAL, MYSTICAL BEING OF LIGHT AND LOVE!
We sew and sow, we incant and we speak into being, we create and craft with intent because – energy flows where intent goes.
We learn lines, form and shape – words and symbols that create meaning. We use this collection of meanings to express ourselves, our will and desires, incantation. That is why crafting words is called spelling.
Our hands compose, they hold and nurture, feel and form, heal and craft, sew and sow, speak and flow, our hands remember – and the magic flows. Our thoughts feed purpose and for a brief moment, the world around us returns to calm.
Not all who wander are lost, but all who look in wonder will find it.
Among the faerie stones and mossy knoll, the pebbled path and forest fold, rap the door and mind the cat, the kettle’s on, our interest rapt, for love of truth our stories told – our sovereign gift is bright and bold. That whisper soft and gentle gust that brought you here because here you must. Curled at your feet, like purr and fluff, remember now, remember how – you must.
Your hands, your mind, your words – energy flows where intent goes.
We are all wanderers and wonder we must.
All that is gold does not glitter;
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be King.