September : A Transmission from Demeter

Come close, child of the earth. Let me place my hands upon your shoulders.

I am Demeter—Mother of Grain, Keeper of the Harvest, Guardian of the sacred cycles of life, death, and rebirth.

They call me goddess of the seasons, but I am more than that.

I am the fierce devotion of a mother’s grief.

I am the patience of the seed beneath the frost.

I am the one who waits. And the one who rises.

And you ask me—how can I change the world?

You change it by remembering what is worth tending.

This world moves fast.

It praises the bloom but forgets the root.

It rushes to reap but has forgotten how to sow.

But you—you are here to remember.

You are here to slow down and restore the sacred rhythm of nourishment.

Start by feeding what is hungry.

Not just bellies, but hearts.

Start by honoring the mundane.

Not just the big moments, but the sweeping, the stirring, the sitting beside.

Tend something. Anything. And do it with devotion.

You do not need to be loud to be powerful.

You do not need to be visible to be vital.

The most important work is often unseen—like the root systems that hold the forest together.

You change the world when you choose presence over performance.

When you plant seeds you may never harvest.

When you love so fiercely that the earth itself leans toward you.

Let your care be unapologetic.

Let your boundaries be fertile ground.

Let your grief be honored and not hidden.

Let your rage crack open the soil.

You do not have to save the world.

You have to feed it.

With truth. With tenderness. With time.

And when you are tired,when the harvest feels far away—come to me.

Lay your hands in the dirt.

Lay your head in my lap.

I will hold you.

As I have held all the women who came before you.

As I will hold the daughters who come after.

Change the world, my love, by loving what grows slowly.

And never forget: you are what the earth dreams of. 

—Demeter