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At the Threshold of Autumn: What I Am Calling In

/ Freya Bishop / Leave a comment

Good morning, dear Reader and happy Monday!

As I begin this new entry in my ‘electronic grimoire’ (I absolutely love calling it that– it makes me chuckle), I am with my loyal companion: a cup of pumpkin coffee in my favorite mug: a pumpkin.

  • Do you happen to have a particular cup that you enjoy drinking your coffee or tea out of? For me, it’s like a hug in the morning… or afternoon!

Summer has not yet released us from its heated hell and yet if you pay close enough attention, you can already feel autumn stirring beneath it. Just walking around yesterday, I picked up several red, orange and yellow leaves, signifying that autumn is drawing near.

The sunlight is beginning to change. The evenings are also arriving a little differently than they did at the start of the season. The cicadas sing their ancient songs from the trees, gardens grow heavy with what they have spent the summer creating and somewhere beneath all that green, the first leaves are quietly considering gold.

It is a season between seasons, a threshold. And perhaps that is why the Lion’s Gate feels especially powerful to me this year. I do not want to approach manifestation as though I am standing before the Universe with a shopping list of things I would like to receive. I want to approach it as a declaration.

I am ready: Ready to become, ready to receive, ready to release the versions of myself that were necessary for previous chapters but cannot accompany me into the next one.

There are things I planted earlier this year that have yet to break through the soil. There are dreams I have whispered about, written about, prayed over, worked toward, doubted, returned to and refused to completely abandon.

And as summer begins its slow descent toward autumn, I find myself thinking less about what I want and more about what I am willing to make room for– you see, manifestation requires space. You cannot endlessly call things into your hands that refuse to put anything down.

Beneath the energy of the Lion’s Gate, I am opening my hands:

I release the need to know exactly how everything will unfold.

I release the fear that I have somehow missed my moment.

I release the belief that struggle must always precede abundance.

I release what has exhausted its purpose in my life.

And I make room for transformation.

Not the delicate sort that changes a few things around the edges, but the kind that reaches down into the roots and asks:

Who are you becoming now?

I am becoming someone who trusts herself more deeply. Someone who does not shrink her dreams simply because they frighten her. Someone who understands that peace is not something I must earn after everything is finished. Peace can exist while I am still building. I am calling in spiritual alignment—not because I expect every answer to suddenly become clear, but because I want to recognize the quiet voice within myself when it speaks.

May I know what is mine.

May I recognize what is not.

May I have the wisdom to understand the difference.

And then there is abundance.

I welcome it.

Fully.

Without apology.

I am calling abundance into my work, my creativity and the things I am building with my own hands.

I want my ideas to find the people who need them.

I want my work to grow.

I want the seeds I have faithfully planted to become something tangible.

I want opportunities that align with who I am rather than requiring me to become smaller in order to receive them.

I welcome financial growth.

I welcome creative growth.

I welcome expansion.

I welcome the beautiful surprise of discovering that something can become larger than I originally imagined.

There was once a version of me who might have whispered those desires cautiously and hid them away.

Today, I write them plainly.

I am allowed to desire a life that flourishes.

And perhaps that is the lesson I am carrying from summer into autumn.

Summer teaches us expansion. Everything reaches toward the sun. Gardens spill beyond their borders. Flowers open unapologetically. The days stretch themselves as far as they possibly can.

But autumn teaches something different.

Autumn says: ‘Now decide what you are taking with you.‘

Soon there will be pumpkins on doorsteps and smoke curling from chimneys. The air will sharpen. Trees will turn themselves into fire before surrendering their leaves to the earth. And I will change with them.

I do not fear the shedding.

There are pieces of myself I am ready to leave among the fallen leaves.

Old doubts. Old expectations. Old stories. Old fears dressed as practicality

They may have belonged to me once, however they do not belong to where I am going.

So beneath this Lion’s Gate, standing between the golden abundance of summer and the first whispered promise of autumn, I set my intentions:

May what is meant for me find me.

May what I am building prosper.

May my intuition become louder than my fear.

May I remain aligned with the life I am creating.

May abundance enter my life through doors I have opened and doors I never knew existed.

May I have the courage to walk through them when they appear.

And may I remember that manifestation is not merely asking the Universe to change my circumstances.

Sometimes manifestation begins when I decide to change.

The wheel is turning.

Summer is beginning its farewell.

Autumn waits just beyond the threshold.

And this time, I am not standing still and watching the season change around me.

I am crossing the threshold with it.

Until we meet again, my friends, may your coffee be delicious, your intuition be louder and a little magick find you wherever you roam.

FB.

“Keeping the Hearth- thoughts on Reiki, Rest & Returning to Yourself:”

/ Freya Bishop / Leave a comment

Good day to you, fair Reader…

I am spending my day in the kitchen perfecting my ‘Dutch baby’ recipe! Ever make one?! Perhaps if I perfect it, I will include it in my next entry for you.

But as I wait for the cold ingredients to become room temperature (trying something new here… you know, you have to experiment with kitchen recipes), I decided to sit down and compose an entry about a topic that was near and dear to my heart.

If you have spent any amount of time wandering through my little corner of the world, you have likely discovered that I wear many hats. Some know me as a witch and at this point of my life, I do not hide it anymore! I have been out of the ‘broom closet’ for more than twenty years! Others know me as a psychic medium, a death midwife, a teacher or simply the woman forever accompanied by a steaming mug of coffee and a curious furry companion. Usually on FaceTime calls or Zoom meetings, it is usual to see Widget or Cleo, lovingly called ‘Baby Moo-Moo’ joining in, dancing in front of the camera.

Today, I would like to introduce you to another part of my path: it is called Reiki.

For many years, Reiki has quietly become one of the most meaningful practices in my life. Yet, until now, I have spoken very little about it. Perhaps it is because Reiki has never felt loud. It has never asked to be in the spotlight. Instead, it has always reminded me that some of the most profound transformations happen in whispers rather than shouts. When people hear the words energy healing, they often imagine something mysterious or difficult to understand. I don’t.

To me, Reiki is one of the simplest expressions of compassion. It is the gentle practice of creating space—space for the body to relax, for the mind to quiet and for the spirit to remember that it is safe to rest.

I often think of Reiki as tending a hearth fire. A fire cannot burn brightly if it has been neglected. Sometimes it needs another log. Sometimes the ashes need to be stirred. Sometimes all it needs is someone willing to sit beside it for a while. We are much the same.

Life asks so much of us. We pour ourselves into our families, our work, our friendships and our responsibilities until one day we realize our own flame has grown dim. We continue moving because we believe we must, even as our bodies quietly ask for stillness.

Reiki offers us permission to stop. It does not promise miracles. It does not replace medical care, nor does it ask us to abandon common sense. Rather, it works alongside the many ways we care for ourselves, inviting deep relaxation and supporting our natural capacity to heal.

As a witch, this philosophy feels deeply familiar. Everything in nature seeks balance. The tides ebb and flow. The moon waxes and wanes. The seasons continually transform. We, too, are part of that rhythm. Yet somewhere along the way, many of us forgot that rest is not weakness—it is part of the cycle.

That is why Reiki found its way into my practice. Not because I was searching for another title. Not because I wished to collect another certification but because I witnessed how profoundly simple kindness, presence and intentional touch could help someone reconnect with themselves.

Over time, my passion for this work led me to become a certified Reiki Master Teacher. The more I learned, the more I realized that Reiki is not about “fixing” anyone. It is about creating a peaceful space where healing can unfold in its own time and in its own way.

I look forward to sharing more about Reiki here in future entries—its history, its principles, the misconceptions surrounding it, and the quiet moments that have reminded me why I continue this work.

For now, I simply wanted to open the door and invite you inside. Perhaps, together, we’ll discover that some of life’s greatest magick isn’t found in extraordinary moments at all. Sometimes, it is found in stillness.

Until next time, may your hearth forever be warm, your coffee be delicious and your spirit always remember the light it carries within.

FB.