Brigit's Flame Week 1 - Luminary
o/` "Bring back the light,
light never ending.
"Through dark of night
this call we are sending
with all our might:
"Bring back the light,
bring back the light.
"Our hearts are open;
on solstice night
we are invoking
the Lord of Life.
"Bring back the light,
the light.
"Queen of the Stars,
Queen of the Moon
Queen of the Horns
and Queen of Fire.
Lord of Life,
Seed of Light,
Flame that warms the coldest night" o/`
-- "Bring Back the Light" performed by Gypsy
The room, pungent with incense and a sense of anticipation, lay shrouded in darkness. Most would have celebrated this particular rite in the evening, after sunset, but we had wanted to actually witness the return of the light. Our winter had been an unusually hard one with dark days and still darker nights. The temperatures had been below freezing for twenty-five days in a row, unheard of even in north central Florida whose climate more closely resembled that of Georgia than the sun basted tropics everyone imagined. Now, at the equinox, the time had come to awaken the Lord from His winter's rest. With his awakening would come again the light and the warmth we craved.
As high priestess, I would be the one giving the call to gather. Fresh from their ritual baths in the spring and anointed with ritual oils, my fellow coven members waited quietly. I stood in the doorway, now the threshold to a sacred place between worlds, and sang:
o/` "Meet me by those standing stones,
won't you meet me in the grove
Meet me on that old stray track
I am going in the Goddess' love" o/`
The clapping, rhythmic and primal, started. If you have ever been to a gospel concert or a spirited revival, the effect is much the same. In fact, the song was not an old one and had probably been patterned after such. My coven members echoed the refrain, their voices joyful in the otherwise oppressive darkness.
o/`"Come to the circle
in trust and love,
come to the Mother's sacred land.
While the moon shines down
her blessings from above,
won't you come take my hand,
take my hand." o/`*
Our unity and the comfort we took from one another's presences filled the temple room, gave it a vibrancy and sense of life it had lacked beforehand. They formed a loose semi-circle around the figure curled in a fetal position before it. Barely visible in the grey false dawn, he lay upon a bower of evergreens and spring flowers, naked save for the grey furs and glorious seven pointed antlers he wore for a headdress.
I called the quarters and shut the double doors which led to the outside world. The darkness became a living thing which pressed against us and wrung the life out of breath and bone. I held a tiny luminary, a spark taken from the Yule log and kept burning until it should serve its purpose at the equinox. The coven members held their breaths as I held it aloft, a single pinpoint of light and hope. It flickered then steadied as I touched it to the pillar candles, each inscribed with the symbol for its element and direction.
As above, so below.
The light swept around our semi-circle like a wildfire as each person passed the flame from one candle to the next. In this simple act we shared the warmth, the light, the hope. Gently, reverently I stripped our dead Lord of his antlers and furs. These I replaced with the vivid red furs of a spring fox and the velvet nubbins of a young buck. My handmaiden removed her crown of flowers, placing them on the sacrificed god's head along with a chaste kiss on the cheek.
The newly awakened Lord uncurled and, stretching and yawning, joined our circle just as the sun's rays streamed through the window and limned our altar bower with gold. He bent low, kissing my hand, and we sang:
o/` "Hoof and horn,
hoof and horn,
all that dies shall be reborn.
Corn and grain,
corn and grain,
all that falls shall rise again."
The circle released and the light safely returned, we went to our breakfasts carrying that bright spark forward in our hearts.
"Come to the Circle" chant by Lee Ann Hussey
light never ending.
"Through dark of night
this call we are sending
with all our might:
"Bring back the light,
bring back the light.
"Our hearts are open;
on solstice night
we are invoking
the Lord of Life.
"Bring back the light,
the light.
"Queen of the Stars,
Queen of the Moon
Queen of the Horns
and Queen of Fire.
Lord of Life,
Seed of Light,
Flame that warms the coldest night" o/`
-- "Bring Back the Light" performed by Gypsy
The room, pungent with incense and a sense of anticipation, lay shrouded in darkness. Most would have celebrated this particular rite in the evening, after sunset, but we had wanted to actually witness the return of the light. Our winter had been an unusually hard one with dark days and still darker nights. The temperatures had been below freezing for twenty-five days in a row, unheard of even in north central Florida whose climate more closely resembled that of Georgia than the sun basted tropics everyone imagined. Now, at the equinox, the time had come to awaken the Lord from His winter's rest. With his awakening would come again the light and the warmth we craved.
As high priestess, I would be the one giving the call to gather. Fresh from their ritual baths in the spring and anointed with ritual oils, my fellow coven members waited quietly. I stood in the doorway, now the threshold to a sacred place between worlds, and sang:
o/` "Meet me by those standing stones,
won't you meet me in the grove
Meet me on that old stray track
I am going in the Goddess' love" o/`
The clapping, rhythmic and primal, started. If you have ever been to a gospel concert or a spirited revival, the effect is much the same. In fact, the song was not an old one and had probably been patterned after such. My coven members echoed the refrain, their voices joyful in the otherwise oppressive darkness.
o/`"Come to the circle
in trust and love,
come to the Mother's sacred land.
While the moon shines down
her blessings from above,
won't you come take my hand,
take my hand." o/`*
Our unity and the comfort we took from one another's presences filled the temple room, gave it a vibrancy and sense of life it had lacked beforehand. They formed a loose semi-circle around the figure curled in a fetal position before it. Barely visible in the grey false dawn, he lay upon a bower of evergreens and spring flowers, naked save for the grey furs and glorious seven pointed antlers he wore for a headdress.
I called the quarters and shut the double doors which led to the outside world. The darkness became a living thing which pressed against us and wrung the life out of breath and bone. I held a tiny luminary, a spark taken from the Yule log and kept burning until it should serve its purpose at the equinox. The coven members held their breaths as I held it aloft, a single pinpoint of light and hope. It flickered then steadied as I touched it to the pillar candles, each inscribed with the symbol for its element and direction.
As above, so below.
The light swept around our semi-circle like a wildfire as each person passed the flame from one candle to the next. In this simple act we shared the warmth, the light, the hope. Gently, reverently I stripped our dead Lord of his antlers and furs. These I replaced with the vivid red furs of a spring fox and the velvet nubbins of a young buck. My handmaiden removed her crown of flowers, placing them on the sacrificed god's head along with a chaste kiss on the cheek.
The newly awakened Lord uncurled and, stretching and yawning, joined our circle just as the sun's rays streamed through the window and limned our altar bower with gold. He bent low, kissing my hand, and we sang:
o/` "Hoof and horn,
hoof and horn,
all that dies shall be reborn.
Corn and grain,
corn and grain,
all that falls shall rise again."
The circle released and the light safely returned, we went to our breakfasts carrying that bright spark forward in our hearts.
"Come to the Circle" chant by Lee Ann Hussey