Cyclicality

Elderberry

Sambucus nigra

The artwork for the Elderberry card, featuring an elderberry bush growing through shapes of the moon phases, showing the different seasons in each shape, with flowers, leaves, berries, and ice on its branches.

Elderberry traditionally lives at the center of the garden, telling stories of winters past and springs yet to come. Though often scraggly and a questionable centerpiece, her three faces embody the Goddess: Maiden in the spring, abundant with white petals; Mother in the summer, when wine-red berries adorn her branches; and Crone in autumn, when her leaves are falling away (she looks quite dead in winter — all bare branches and hollow bones). Elderberry’s yearly evolution teaches you to dance with the closely twined cycles of life, death, and rebirth. Wherever you are in your life, she reminds you that acceptance of life’s cyclicality is the key to earning your spot at the garden’s center.

Decorative artwork. Ritual Decorative artwork.

The Wisdom of Return

In the modern world, time can feel quite linear. We march from birth to death, forgetful of the the ancient wisdom of return. Living cyclically — with an awareness of the cycles that form the foundation of our existence — can change our perspective in profound ways.

Our breath is our first cycle: inhale, exhale. Next is the cycle of day and night, from dawn to dusk and back again. Beyond that is the 28-day cycle of the moon, and on and on.

Choose a cycle to celebrate. You might, for example, greet the sun each day and send her off in the evening, or you might commit to standing outside for a few minutes each night observing the movements of the moon. A cycle includes the next beginning, so if you celebrate dawn and dusk, celebrate the following sunrise as well. If you are a moon watcher, commit to following the moon past the beginning of her next cycle so you can witness repetition as she comes round again.

An illustration of an elderberry branch, with flowers and berries.

Decorative artwork. Reflection Decorative artwork.

The Upward-Climbing Spiral

Our evolution is an upward-climbing spiral: we repeat lessons, gaining wisdom as we go. But if we hop from thing to thing, never repeating, declaring things done after one go-round, we deny ourselves this growth, this ability to evolve into the goddess at the center of the garden.

It is odd that we never question the feasibility of a football team practicing long hours for one game; yet in writing we rarely give ourselves the space for practice.

Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones