I did many workings for the first of May – It is spring – my workings are what they are…
However, the snow didn’t really lend the ‘air’ of summer…
So there I was, trying to honor the infamous evening of the Good Neighbors and the Spirits with snow on the ground to welcome summer..
When the snow cleared a bit, and my health was up to it – I smithed to my heart’s content. I didn’t expect to have another audience. They just sat and.. Watched, me ritually forge – they didn’t leave for hours. They just stood there, and watched my hand work the metal, hummed to my humming as I worked, and chuckled to my asshole-humor. In my small area, it does attract people to come to my forge, for whatever reason.. Well – at least they don’t think it’s a nuisance. They actually chuckle at their local smithy – and let me ‘do my thing,’ which stands to reason in and of itself.
My goodness – I smithed. My heart sang with every swing, every landing was carefully placed, my mind was not my own. I let the hammer ting to it’s own beat, my heart matched it, and my skin warmed to the blaze of the forge – my heart felt alive once more, after a winter of cool, calm reflection.
The trouble is, when that ice around my soul melted, the passions, the angers, the rages that surrounded the inner fires was re-lit anew – but.. Now with the wisdom of winter to cool their tempers…. I don’t look at those things in the same way. I’m a different smithy now.
I look at Brighid, Gohbannon, Wayland, and other smithies in new eyes. The horrors, the trials, the limping pain that drags a warrior down – I don’t look at them the same. And working with a primal Bear Mother – that metalworking is not the same either. It just isn’t. It’s like picking up the hammer anew, but with the knowledge – but new-found wisdom- to work the metal differently.
It’s like being a child again at the hearth hearing the stories for the first time even though I can tell the story rote for rote. It is a story in and of itself – and I had my hand in it. My spirits are happy, as I have taken something from the earth and of fire and turned it into a tool for use.. Forging is a hard process.
Sometimes, even blacksmiths need to go through one. A steel does not get refined unless put to the fires, right?
Any smithy worth their salt knows one thing: They need to face the fires, to understand and to become better.
Any warrior knows that…. ALL too well.
So as I finish my early May work, I think about the time of my working, and what I’ve done – and I think of the creme and the small table I leave outside for the Good Neighbors – I work with them closely enough, and to maintain good relations is just.. Common sense to me and mine.
So as I work my beloved metal again – it is with new eyes. A new heart, and a new pulse.
And it beats to the heart of my hearth firstly, and my forge with it.