By the time we meet June, everything is at its fullest expression. The light is no longer returning, it has arrived. And at this point of the wheel, we meet. Sulis who is one of the few deities in our wheel who is widely known. Her presence is anchored at Bath, or as the Romans called it, Aquae Sulis. And unlike many of the other goddesses we've encountered so far, Sulis leaves behind something substantial, not just impressions, not just fragments, but a full sacred complex, a temple, a bathhouse, an entire ritual landscape built around water that rises warm from the earth. And that detail matters because Sulis is not just a water goddess, she's a meeting point. The Romans didn't replace her, they recognised her. There's a weight to Bath, a presence. A sense that something has been happening there for a very long time. Not just historically, but continuously.

Now, my own connection with Sulis goes back a long way, long before I had the language for any of this. In the 1970s, I used to visit Bath regularly, not for spiritual reasons, just to get away, to rest. And at that time, things were very different. The pump room was open, you could walk in freely, drink the waters, sit, be. There were no barriers in the way we see now, no curated experience, just space. And I remember bringing something back with me, a headscarf. An ordinary object, really, but every time I wore it, I felt something. Comfort, warmth, like being held. Now, I didn't understand that at the time, but looking back, I recognise it. This was my first experience of Sulis, not as an idea or a concept, but as a presence. And that is the key to understanding her, because Sulis is not abstract. She is embodied... You don't just think about her. You feel her in warmth, in water, in the physical experience of being immersed. There's a story I often return to. During the Bath festival, there was a period when the cross-bath was open for swimming in the day—it's open every day these days, this was the only time of the year it was open to a small number of people for a few hours. And you could enter the water. You'd swim, you'd rest a bit, you'd eat a bit, you'd float a bit, you'd swim a bit. You get the picture. And everyone who took part said the same thing. You could stay there forever. The water held you. It supported you. It carried you. And afterwards, something lingered. A heaviness, a softness, a kind of deep relaxation that lasted for days. Now, you could explain that physiologically, the heat and the minerals, rest. But that's only part of it. Because there's something else happening there, something harder to define. And that, to me, is Sulis. She is healing, but not in a clinical sense. She does not set out to 'fix'. Instead, she restores. She brings you back to yourself. And that is why she belongs in June. Because June is not about beginning. Nor is it about striving. It's about being fully alive, fully present.

Sulis holds that space: radiant, open, and unapologetically visible.