The corn moon shone brightly last night. When it finally climbed high into the sky, I stepped outside to visit the stones on my altar; red jasper, carnelian, and citrine... laid out to capture the abundance of the season, as well as her glowing moonbeams.
My frame cast long moonshadows across the ground, and I found myself entranced, as I always do. When my shadow crossed the wild roses near the house, I noticed the bright red hips glistening, visible even in the low light.
The roses closest to the house were swelling with life, round and ripe. The ones farther out, left to the raw elements, hung smaller and thinner. Both are wild, both are roses, yet proximity made all the difference.
Abundance gathers near me. Not because I force it or bend it to my will, but because presence itself reshapes the field. Shade softens. Soil cools. Footsteps mark belonging. Life leans toward what is tended simply by being near.
It’s the same with people. With dreams. With love. We don’t need to water every moment or prune every edge. Our nearness is enough. In that nearness, abundance arrives... full, ready, and more than enough.
Beloved, you may trust that your own nearness brings life. That your presence, your very being is the condition where joy wants to root and love longs to ripen. And when you forget your birthright to abundance and joy, let my talismans serve as reminders: you are worthy of all you desire.
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