A Spell for Remembering

Notes from the Hollow Bone | entry twenty-one

Tonight, I stood outside my camper, wrapped in quiet, with the moon suspended just above the trees. The night felt ancient — familiar in a way I couldn’t name. It wasn’t about beauty or even awe; it was something subtler. A hum beneath the stillness.

There’s a peace that comes only when the world goes quiet enough for you to hear your own breath matching the rhythm of the wind. That’s what I felt tonight — not revelation, not clarity, but connection.

The poem came through like a whisper, a spell really — not one to summon or change, but one to remember. The kind of remembering that happens deep in the spirit, when you realize illumination isn’t about light chasing darkness — it’s about learning to see in the dim.

Maybe that’s what this season is teaching me: that the universe speaks gently, that answers arrive as echoes, and that peace doesn’t always need to be found — sometimes it’s already sitting quietly beside you, waiting to be acknowledged.

🌙 A Spell for Remembering

Words for the listening night

By moonlight and motion,
by silence and sky,

may what was hidden
remember how to rise.

Let the shadows soften,
let the knowing begin,

may the light find its way—
not around you, but within.

Speak gently to the stillness,
let your spirit recall—

peace is not the answer,
it is the pulse beneath it all.

With Grace & Ink,

Mai