Balance the Egg, Feel the Mud

my girlfriend just had a baby this week and the wind has finally eased and the sun was out and my neighbor cut back the raspberries and the earth gives way to my feet as I walk in my slippers to the raging stream. Newness is all around and the cycles of birth and rebirth stretch our bodies, minds, hearts and spirits.
Come break out of your shell, Spring is here and you better get busy. But first take a moment to balance yourself on the Earth Mother, when the day and night are equal and breathe.

We gather for Equinox Ritual and PotLuck Celebration

Sunday 3/21/10 at 1:32 pm

As the Solstices are about the Sun, we tend to look at the Equinox’s as about the Earth

and also in this beginning time to reflect on the East and the Mothers.

It is a time to rejoice in the returning green.
Bring any seeds that you want blessed and some food to share for an early Sunday supper.

Our cyser that we made in the fall is now ready!! We will be decanting it and tasting!

Imbolc which now after February is finally over seems so long ago

So much life has happened, it is a distant memory when the days were still very short

and we had not yet tasted spring.

Getting ready with many eggs and cheese and milk for quiches to honor this time when the sap begins to flow, when traditionally the ewes would lactate and the ice breaks and we would know that the Earth Mother would be renewed.

Figuring out roles so that all works. Who will make and tend the fire, which must be big enough for a group of people and strong enough to keep them warm? Who will prepare the offerings of sacrifice? Who will talk and what shall be said?

So Adhi would make the fire, hauling standing dead trees from the woods and making a loud constant whirr of chain saw while he worked the embers. But it was Bryan that tended the fire and I swept around it, a path in the snow that later would show the earth, mud and grass.
The sweeping of snow, sweeping the land; a never ending job that you feel in your whole body- arms, legs, gut, lungs.

Salad and quiche (even the bad crusted one) and sweets and peaches from the summer and coffee and cyser.
Who all was here- Eizabeth, Ron & Linda, and Judith and Anna and Jasper and us and Ahdi. Missing was Amber and Susan & Gwen and Katrina & family and Unca Magoo and Aunt Lisa. But we had a full table and a lot of laughing and lots more talk.

I had put together offerings and Bryan had too, each brought to the fire circle waiting.

Grains and chips and herbs - spring cleaning of the cupboards.

Bryan offered his rant for the season- stories of Bridget, her lineage, her gifts,

and how we honor her and the order of ritual.

The kids were- as always- restless and sometimes us too. It is hard with groups of people to interact, prepare for ritual, learn what to do, eat and focus on a time. But we do always seem to focus well on the spirits.
Bryan brought Bridget from the shrine and donned his wicker headdress and we processed to the circle; boys stomping and dancing across the threshold; each person finding their place around the fire. There was a bird that flew overhead while we walked and they always seem to speak as we gather, when we settle down or when we listen.

Nice hot flame and warm sun and rushing stream and bright snow. The directions of the sun and the gates of our spring, willow and fire. Let this fire be a good fire.
Glowing embers like the sun and my eyes. Standing centered on the earth- men and women and boys. Crystalline the sun blinded me so that I could only see the fire and smoke.
Blazing greens letting go of the past and of the winter.
Our offerings, our omens, our blessing.

From the Ancestors: Sowelo or the sun
From the Spirits of Nature & Place: Kinaz or the torch
From the Gods & Goddesses: Wunjo or joy
From Bridget and the Season: Jera – year or harvest
(All lovely and appropriate for good fortune, perhaps it is what has kept us as together as we have been through this transition time.)

The waters always so refreshing and enough for all.

Each of us helping each other through Bridget's girdle, ever expanding for all of our sizes. Even for the cat next door. So much light and orange and personalities.

Each of us chose a shimmering crystal, as a remembrance of this frozen time of almost spring.

We quieted down, back in our places around the fire to offer thanks and grounding. We gathered up our things- our empty bowls, cups and leftover offerings and took each other home.
We invited Bridget onto our hearth, in our kitchen overflowing with people and food and glasses and light.

So the after effects were immediate, with more eating and conversations, intense at times, and time flying and groups of people coming and going. Sometimes it is all like a dream, blurred like the smoke.

At the end of the day, with the vast darkness lit by a candle at Bridget’s shrine, I went outside alone to put out the light.

IMBOLC

Sunday January 31st , 2010 – Gathering for Brunch & Ritual
In honor of the GODDESS BRIDGET

11am
greeting & gathering & pre-ritual briefing & first brunch & toasting
NOON
Ritual preparation (get ready for ritual, layer up, do what you’ve got to do)

Ritual begins
Process to Bridget's Well
Lustration of our Hands or face
Then Cozy up back at the fire

Sacred space & time
Offerings to the Earth Mother
A Guided Meditation
Directions
Center
Offerings to Manannan/fire–well-tree/Opening of the Gates
Offering to outsiders
Offering for insider Bridget
Sacrifice for our Kindred Spirits
Our Honored dead
Our spirit Allies
Our Gods & Goddesses
Special Praise offerings for Bridget as the Herald of the Coming Spring-Bring on the Beat
Prayer of sacrifice
Seeking and reading omens
Hallowing and sharing of The Waters
Special Magicwerking –Blessing of our Tools and Passing through Bridget’s Belt
Oh Yay Bridget! Thanks
Thank you Gods! Thanks Spirits! Thank you Honored Dead!
Give Thanks again Bridget
Thanks Manannan/Close the Gates
Thank you Earth Mother
Invite and Welcome Bridget into the hearth & home

The ritual is over and 2nd Brunch begins!

THE LONGEST NIGHT

The day before we prepared for the blizzard that wasn’t- hauling wood, sticks, clearing the deck- battening down the hatches.
Figuring that maybe the only way we’d have the fire pit in the morning was if we started the fire before the snow came, Bryan gathered dry wood and set to burn through the packed ice. It looked like it might only be us- me, Bryan and Hudson- so formalities and cleaning were dropped for more wood gathering, cooking and dancing.
The late afternoon air was crisp and the quality of light was exquisite but the fire smoldered with little flame. Smoldering pine needles and pine cones. I went inside to get paper to burn and came out to the magic of the fire in full flame. The sun was beginning to go down, shining straight through the house. We waited for snow and worked at staying warm.

Feeding the fires. Cooking in the oven. Feeling family.

After dinner and before bed Bryan rolled a massive Yule log into the cache of hot embers. It caught and smoldered and the wind roared and kept the fire alive. All night I got up and saw the flames. Blown by the fiercest winds but not out of control, the giant Yule log burned steady.

So the next day we had had only a dusting of snow and the fire was still there. The logs ringing the fire were crowned with white circles, 24 in the half ring, 4 more as gates and 4 more that bridge to the rocks that frame the fire.



We gathered more wood and offerings and cleaned and rested. Though we didn’t start at exactly 3:33, we layered up and were outside by 4ish, the sun was still up and the sky was luminous, pinks, golds and whites.

Everything was quiet. The deep quiet of snow, the quiet of just family, the quiet hiss of the fire burning for a whole day- the shortest day, longest night. Things I remember from ritual are circles and sounds. Pouring cider for the Earth Mother half way around the circle and then wine around the other half because she is not our mother for only half the year but always. Our good fire, our well, our very old Yule tree. Dear Mananan and Bridget, whose altars form the edges of a triangle with our fire, were welcomed with gratitude. Each praise accepted with a sizzle and flame burst, and each of us in turn asking for acceptance of our sacrifice. Bryan began to speak about the outsiders and to open our pickle jar offering when suddenly a bird, perhaps a wren, sang its song- loud and clear and long. We laughed; it was easy to feel the presence of our Kindred.

Wine and pine cones and our kitchen cauldron of dried flowers and grasses for consumable sacrifice.

The round orange halves of a tangerine full of seeds, full of juice, full of light. Cold juice for each of us and for the spirits as well, visions of summer shining.

Hudson placed on the fire his gingerbread house as thanks for and wishes for creating spiral flame.

The final seasonal sacrifice of a large basket- long used as detritus storage collecting dust by my bed, now used for renewal. Bryan placed the basket right side up on the fire, which was sort of precarious and sort of balancing. It seemed to momentarily smother the flames until, imperceptibly, the smoke caught to fire and then a vortex of flame roared to life. We all quickly stepped back behind the ring of logs and still the fire grew. We were howling and Hudson yelled that it was the awesomest thing ever and really it was. The flame was alive, rolling and circling and strong. It went on and on and grew and was bright for a long time.

I am still enveloped in the circle of that fire, may its strength keep us strong, warm and safe all winter.

Bryan brought out the runes and Hudson went forward to pick them-

From the Ancestors: Daguz- day or vantage point- like high noon and sometimes it is a paradox -like you see things from a much different vantage point, sometimes like seeing things from both sides

From the Spirits of Nature and Place: Othala or Odul- sacred enclosure or inheritance, kind of like what you protect and treasure and keep safe

From the Gods & Goddesses: Fehu- the fee what things cost- and fe fi fo fum and fa lalala

For the Season:Sowelu or the Sun.

Well done.

We draw these same runes in different combinations often- they seem sometimes like grove runes.

Silently, I had been hoping to draw an omen, though Hudson did a great job and I was satisfied with the blessings. But just as I had stepped one foot over the logs and halfway back into the circle Bryan asked if I would pull an Ogham, it was Gort -generally thought of as ivy, but translated it means a cultivated garden or a plowed field. Ivy is a grass that is suitable for the herd when the grasses fail, in the winter icy can still feed the livestock. Lovely. And then we hallowed and took in those icy waters, crisp, snowy and a bit sooty too. Drinking in crystals and light and spirit and flame, my eyes poured tears from smoke from the fire. It seems that at each ritual these days my eyes cry buckets and in that smoke and water I am taken away and transformed and brought back cleared.

Joyful and refreshed we offered all our thanks. Then with darkness approaching, the snow blue and the first stars coming out we returned to our warm house for dinner. The fire burned well into the night.

Winter Solstice

Sunday 12/20/09

3:33pm

bring pies, puddings, cookies -savory or sweet

fill the air with warmth and glad tidings

the light returns- welcome the Oak King!

my new favorite poem - please take to heart:

in these dark days of December

we are nearer to Spring

than we were in September

please RSVP to susan@urtharts.com

Stillness of Winter

Day After: The sun shines brightly on the frost and the only sounds are the rush of the stream, the dropping of leaves from the forsythia – still green but now frost worn- and one or two birds. The silence is heavy like a blanket of snow and a harbinger of the total silence of deep snows and dark days. Everything is different today.

2 weeks after: The sun was out today- rising flaming red close to due south. The peach tree still holds her leaves and the willow is reluctantly turning yellow. The land was full of turkeys today – more than 2 dozen, perhaps attracted by Elizabeth’s acorns. A warm day is now in the 40’s° and morning frost is a given. There is still kale but the garden has been put to bed and it is dark by 5.

As always the Samhain season is wyrrd and long. We spent a week before Halloween putting out dumb suppers and lighting candles in carved pumpkins. Then there was the hoopla of Halloween proper with warm rain and hard gentle winds and leaves and zombies and candy and parties missed with time bending to the moon.

So by the time we got to our ritual preparations the leaves were mostly down from a week of strange winds and we were ready to put the season to bed. I had wanted a journey -thinking of Samhains past transforming as you passed thru the veil to the underworlds and out the other side. After the Johnny Appleseed journey of transformation and picking so many apples and the darkness and the need to move beyond it seemed natural. Hudson was a bit under the weather the Friday of our ritual and so he and Bryan stayed home making schedules easy and allowing Bryan to spend the day setting up places. We had talked about where and how we would walk about and knew we needed to be led by light. We had decided to start at the small house fire circle and process perhaps to Mananan, perhaps to Bridget and then to the 5 circle fire pit for ritual before closing again at the home fire.

By the time I came home from work, worn but happy, the boy was resting and Bryan and I got to walk the path he laid out. From the home fire to the hollow tree, seasonal altar previously with a Belanos sun image now replaced with a purple candle. Then to the may pole hole, uncovered and filled with Uncle Magoo’s hurricane lamp with the red candle. Then to Mananan lit with 3 candles and then across the whole field past the garden to Bridget surrounded by votives and a hurricane candle glowing in front of her. The central fire was smoking and with a small breath came to life.

The land felt good and things seemed set though still in that time bending Samhain way. Not even thinking really of if we had offerings; I had seen Bryan come downstairs with his runes and magics and not really thought about much. I gathered the last of the flowers, a last rose, and some herbs. Everything green and damp. Not yet dark but no longer day. Elizabeth came with baskets of flowers and libations as always and filled the house with her spirit- like fire and water together. We snacked on the chicken soup to be dinner later and opened her cyser, creating warmth. We toasted each other and our Whole grove and the season and moved from the kitchen to the fire. Susan and Gwen came -more glasses and celebration. Then Judith arrived, the kitchen filled with food and people and we all toasted once more. Finally Bill and Nina came with even more food and we finished the cyser and began. Hudson needed to sleep and I carried his spirit with me thru ritual, always looking up to the bright house where he rested.

Bryan led with the flashing red light through the dark to the portals of fire glowing in the dark.
We journeyed through from the house fire pit -spirits and shooting star; to the altar for the season in the trunk of the hollow tree; to the red candle burning like a heart deep in the center of the field in the hole; to the Mananan altar with 3 lights like the circling legs; all the way across the land past the garden to Brigit, shrouded in dark lit by a stream of lights; and onto the 5-circle fire pit in our center.

We gathered and separated to regroup, find our offerings, get warm, get light and begin again.

Coming together we found our way in the black dark to our spaces by the fire.
We were centering, trying to bring the fire to life, stepping all over each other, pushing back and making space. Bryan opened the gates and speaks to the outsiders. Our friend Anna and her son arrive- black figures through the smoke back lit by the motion activated light- like shadows appearing, strangely glowing – her smile beaming as they drew near the fire, the smoke of their breath mixing with that of our fire.
As always the glow and the smoke. All the offerings, had we gathered them- was it a dream- did we actually have anything to offer? The dried grasses fed already for warmth and brightness, but we had flowers, what I know now were the last of the flowers. Our dead, our dear dead, so many again this year. Long breath, a sigh, waiting for the New Year to begin. Spiraling into the smoke, almost hard to breathe, tears of smoke pouring out of my eyes; it was like passing into other realms. Bryan changes everything as he takes out a crystal ball for scrying and the world of that shimmered and came alive and disappeared and was huge and small at the same time. Getting lost in spheres and smoke and flames and prayers.
Our omens for the season-
For the ancestors: Ehwaz- the horse, how we travel -the partnership between horse and rider
From the Spirits: Jera or year or harvest or the cycle of a year
From the Gods & Goddesses: Daguz- day or vantage point
For the Season: Thurisaz- Thorn
We have gotten many of these omen before, we need to pay attention.
I look up at all the smiling faces lit by the fire now alive with our sacrifice. So much thanks. The house lit up brightly calls us into its warmth.

5 weeks after: The snow has been on the ground solid for more than a week. The frosts have gone and only the patches of land where water bubbles still have green. Winter is here and we won’t see the ground again really until spring. The days grow rapidly dark. The sun rises slowly, due south and bright red.

The color of autumn- our equinox

It is always in the preparation that ritual begins. Shopping lists and gathering of flower petals and standing on the earth contemplating balance.

This day we were to celebrate at Elizabeth’s house, which though it means travel (a challenge especially to my home-body son), it means less cleaning and clearing. But of course getting out of the house is harder, one more bunch of flowers, one more packet of dried grasses, one more offering.
Driving down the roads of this beautiful place that we live I was struck by this particular light of September. Before the leaves become ablaze with color they have a tint, a hue of brown –yellow or orange-gold and with the angle of the equinox sun path there is a cast of light that is only in September. It is the back to school light, the new notebooks light, the light of the side yard from the memory of the month when the boy was newborn and we sat in bed and watched that autumn light – brilliant but not hot, cool but not icy. The sky is so blue and clear but deep with the knowledge of the oncoming winter. By October everything is reds and oranges and bright yellows and deep browns, and by November the color is windswept and barren and brown and grey, but now it is deep golden like the taste of an apple.

So we arrive at Elizabeth’s, down crazy winding roads (we are always amazed by the variety of neighborhoods all over this county), dogs a-barking, hugs and acorns. Lots of acorns, to roll up with the cool acorn sweeper- a whole tub full in no time at all. Bryan and Ted talk chain saw and fire wood while the neighbor cuts down a tree. We talk harvest (or lack thereof). Amber arrives with cookies which we need to sample with real good tea and magic talk- the interconnecting circles of what makes this magic- unity and awareness and personal knowledge and more. But noon passes and let’s get it together, the present is here and the future of other commitments comes too swiftly. We are here to honor the Gods who give meaning to this life.

Processing down the stone steps and wood staircase leading to the fire by the pond with the koi and the flat lands backed by the rock cliffs of Elizabeth & Ted’s lower property. Hudson always loves the hand pump, kids have to pump the water – it is like a magnet every time we are there. Birds are always singing there. The sun shines brightly and it is hot, yes noon is direct and socks and sweaters come off.

Elizabeth builds a fire and Bryan lights sweet grass from our garden and goes around the circle with the smoke clearing and creating space. I offer petals from every type of the many flowers growing in my garden to the Earth Mother, starting in the east and walking around the circle -2 whole times around before the petals are all used. It has been a good flower year.
We all settle down- feeling comfortable on our Mother, feeling her solid supporting us, letting us balance our weight comfortably on her- Elizabeth and Ted in the East, Bryan in the South, Amber in the West, me in the North and Hudson in the shade.
We feel the darkness of the earth below and the brightness of the sky above. We look up to the sky-shining blue with blinding sun streaming into us and touch the solid deepness of the dark cool earth below us rising up into us and feel these energies mix within us. Breathing in and out and feeling this hot shining sun and this cool dark earth; the fire is small but it is in the center and it is a gate. Calling upon Mannanan Mac Lier, walker of the ways between the worlds, gatekeeper; offering magic potion of syrup from a bottle corked with a branch and strands of sweet grass; and opening the gates. Though there were trees and a large pond we focused on only this one gate- this central fire.

I was struck by the silence of this ritual, only Bryan talked (except for our individual praise offerings); no one offered responses (“let the gates be open” etc.)only birds replied to all his words. This has happened at rituals here before, the birds – many different ones- talk at different times and participate.
Making offerings to the outsiders, just past Hudson in the hedgerow- boundaries defined by potion. Bryan called upon Bridget, grove matron and Goddess of eloquence: asking for our words to be true, our thoughts communicated and our voices heard. More magic syrup and the rest of the sweet grass. Elizabeth’s fire always burns.
Most Honored Dead, our teachers and families and friends- it seems there has been lots of passings lately (a reminder of the coming of Samhain)-so many people to honor- the burning of rose petals, so quickly consumed and faintly fragrant and just a bit of syrup. All these respected people- remembered because of what they have left behind, what they have shared with us, what we carry of them inside us today.
The Spirits of Nature, of this place, where we are now, this land we live on, the insects and birds, all the creatures and the rocks, the grasses and trees- sacrifice of rose petals and barely a drop of the potion falls.
Gods and Goddesses, all of them –who are yours- the eclectic pantheon of the modern age- Kaun Yin and the Celtic River Gods from Elizabeth’s bathroom wall, the Green man with his autumn face, the Moon Grandmother, Mercury, and the grey bearded old man of my grandmother’s God. Everyone appreciates rose petals.
This season of Fall, the harvest and this balance of equinox, silence and presence- lots of magic syrup suddenly pours out with the rest of the roses.
Elizabeth offers gratitude for the easing of the rain, purple asters and small pumpkin and tomatoes – especially rare in this season of scant harvest. She offers a story of her dog Grace waiting for her in the driveway, out of the fence for who knows how long, with dog tags pulled but not choked, safely escaped- and in doggie gratitude burns old dog toys. And finally a basket that has seen many harvests, many gathering of beans and more, catching circular fire and burning through holes.
I offer sage for this year of many things and a full sunflower head, not yet eaten by birds, intact with its mesmerizing helix of seeds in deep gratitude for the many flowers, and, looking forward to new seeds for next year and for next year’s harvest to come. I offer a new pink rose for the deep beauty all around us. And I place a dollar to burn in the fire in gratitude for having a roof over our heads and for the bills to once again be paid and for the balance and sustainability without fear of money in our lives.

And as Elizabeth says: The amphibians joined us for ritual! Before I built the fire, a wee Leopard Frog hopped across the fire pit. The tiny Red Eft was a nice guest, isn't there some association between fire and Salamanders? I was thinking the ritual fire smoke was beguiling. The wind kept changing directions and it kept spiralling, slowly, counter clockwise, and it swirled around Bryan because it was happy to find him there. It wreathed around Bryan and smudged us all, and never stopped changing direction. Lively! The offerings were sweet and generous. There is a Birch clump very close to the fire pit, and one of the omens was for the Birch. That is Bridget's tree and also my birth month tree..a tree I hang offerings on.That spot near the little footbridge is where I have long thought that the Sidhe/Shee hang out

Once again we are silent and Bryan places the good corn all around the edges of the fire. He slowly builds the fire up as our offerings burn and then he pulls our omens.
From the Ancestors – Daguz- day, vantage point, noon
From the Spirits – Wunjo – Joy
From the Gods & Goddesses – Berkana – beginning
And for the season- Kinwaz- the torch

He also, for the first time in our ritual, pulls an Ogham (a stick from the Celtic tree oracle) and it is Oak. – well of course- it is the druid tree and a symbol of standing up straight and also associated with royalty- but let’s not forget all those acorns.

Are we ready to take in those waters of life? What is it that we know of the continuum of life – the waters of life and from whence do they come? Elizabeth & I look at each other and say together- from the bosom of the Earth Mother! The ever changing all mother. She brings out this incredible round blue glass pitcher which sparkles with the sun and Bryan holds it up –it looks bigger than him, like a big shining blue sun. Bless these waters; give us comfort, Knowledge & blessing.

The water is usually cold but this was sun-temperature and autumn flavored. I drank deeply, it seemed like there was an abundance of water.

Ah, giving thanks. There was more food, bits from our whole feast to be, given in gratitude. And then a container of Elizabeth’s cyser, that seemed never ending, as thanks to all of the Kindred and seasonal gods and Bridget and Mananan and the Earth Mother. The birds sang. We processed back to the house.

We feasted and filled Elizabeth's house with flavors. We brewed our equinox cyser of fresh pressed apple cider and pounds of honey and yeast. We did it rite, like Bryan said. You should see the bucket of Cyser! This morning I took off the lid to stir it and it had a layer of foamy suds on top that looked like a bubble bath. It is happy and churning away, and smells so delicious. It is definitely ALIVE! Wow!