On The Luteal Side of the Year

I am here to share a little of what is occurring for me right now, and a few themes that emerge whenever this phase of the year comes.

The summer, particularly after midsummer, feels to me like a restless time of conflicting energies. Perhaps triggered by the years I have spent in education, the thought of September approaching often fills me with questions: “Am I ready?” “What will the next chapter bring?” and sometimes the answers to these questions are difficult.

We are now also entering a new Islamic year, and the blessed month of Muharram. The energy is mixed, between the waning of the meteorological year post-midsummer and the rising of a new, spiritual year. What both of these energies bring to me, however, is the need to shed what is no longer good for me, and all the grief that comes along with that.

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Distilling Lemon Balm

It was my first distillation for months, and the most welcome return to heart. The day started early with our journey to Phytology, a magical nature reserve in the heart of urban London. After a reluctant start, as if I were waking up my herbalist bones after a long sleep, I tingled with excitement as I carried my smallest alembic across central London on a clear, cold spring morning.

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Spring Equinox Practices

When in doubt, I try to learn from my toddler. He manages to live and breath a kind of freedom and embodiment that I spend more time thinking about than really being. Today, we walked to a local old growth forest we visit most weekends. It is a place that is slowly becoming very special to us. I knew today was different though, with the spring turning in the air and the sense that a portal was open for us because of it, but also that something in me was opening too. Coming back to life – setting intentions.

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On Winter, The Crone and The Dark Moon

In the latter part of winter, I start to emerge from a period of stillness within myself that this year – above all else – has been mostly unsettling. An eerie stillness of things not being “right” – an imbalance. Grief, is the word that comes to me most often. It comes as I grieve the death of friends. Of mothers. Of women all over this planet and of the sons, and daughters. Of it all. I find it all too heavy with sadness. I grieve for the forests, and the waters, and for the creatures whose patterns are intricately and infinitely intertwined with ours. This year, more than any other year, I have been consumed with grief. And I believe that this is OK.

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The Boiling Pot: Spirituality and Herbal Distillation

Distilling with Sherifa

It’s an overcast day in March, occasional clouds drizzling soft trills of rain onto the courtyard.

Optimistically, I set the alembic up in a corner, knowing that unless it pours, we’ll be safe under the cedar beamed edges of the open roof.

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How we Shop: An Homage to the Journey

You can ask the neighbours, they find it funny too.

Baby strapped onto my back (happy as a clam) and shopping trolley in hand, I swing the heavy iron front door closed and roll our way down the hill.

It’s already eleven in the morning because it takes us so long to get out of the house (we have a long breakfast!), and most of the neighbors are already on their way back.

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