But it's a caldron. I know it.
It's with me. My caldron. In my car. Behind the driver's seat. Filled with tennis balls and dog toys and leashes and collars. All of Nava's things. It makes sense to use it for that. To use the caldron for all Nava's stuff while we make this drive across the country. This is temporary. All of it. The use of the caldron to hold my dog's things. And the trip across the country. Both.
The caldron will be emptied soon. Of all things not caldron-like. And will be used instead for burnings. Of Sage. And Lavender. The burning of Sage is one of the oldest and most pure methods of cleansing a person or space. The burning of Lavender is seen as an invitation to the spirits. So I will cleanse my space and myself and invite in those spirits the seek my company as I seek theirs. These will be joyous ceremonies.
I actually have two caldrons. My first one showed up with cracks in her side. Deep edgings into the cast iron but still sturdy. And so this farm site that is really a witch site for caldron seekers sent me a new one. And let me keep my first one also, as the cost to return it back was too much.
I used my first caldron for my first burning before I ventured forth for the east. A burning of things left over that needed to be brought back to the earth and the wind. I burned them in the caldron along with some Sage for cleansing. It was good. And less important than I thought it would be. I pictured ritual. And a deep resonance with the passage of these things as they moved into ash. But it was not like this. It was quick. And I was distracted. And did not chant or pray or honor anything. I merely settled these items I had chosen to burn, scatted Sage on top and around each piece and lit it all with many matches as the first few did not take as easily as I had hoped. And as my things burned I mostly paid mind to the flames as they caught on the fabrics and strings, robes and leather that I had piled into my sacred giant mortar sans pestle. But like a true mortar and pestle, used to ground things up into a fine powder, my caldron held the burning flame until all that was left was the ash powder made from memories.
I then gifted this first one to a wise woman so she could burn and honor and create warrior circles and feminine connections.
It is the second caldron that travels with me.
That I plan to do this, these burnings of Lavender and Sage, during the fall is especially poignant - touching, moving - to me. The fall is a time of rebirth. It's often said that the spring is that time. But I see that is is fall. When the leaves turn those deep fall colors of crimson and orange, reds and yellows with still few greens left. And then brown. And as the dryness sets in, this now fallen foliage begins to settled deep into the earth.
This is the rebirthing, see...
This settling into the dirt to nourish the new growth that will flourish in spring. This is the ebb and flow of life. And it is in keeping with this spirit of things falling - of the shedding of the leaves to make way for the new growth that always occurs when there is space for it - that I will dance on fallen leaves and maybe chant or pray. Or maybe not. Maybe I will just burn. Sage and Lavender. And I will take in the smokiness of it.