Wild Maine Witchcamp
The Atlantic is my ocean. Rocky beaches and water the color of stern grey eyes. Enough bite in the breeze to make that water more of a companion than a playmate. I walked outside at Logan Airport and something about the quality of late-afternoon light brought back the feeling of being a teenager, here, so sharply I cried.
My first time in Maine. Spooky storybook beautiful. As part of a three-person Ritual Facilitation Team (we led all interested campers through an hour-long ritual planning process every afternoon, and supported the manifestation of that ritual later the same evening) I spent luxurious mornings and whirlwind afternoons and forged strong bonds and let my bones remember the coast of my childhood. So much thanks to the organizers for inviting me into this opportunity.