RCG Third Thursday
Celebrate her ripening spirit
Celebrate her blossoming fruit
Celebrate the fruits of our labor
Mother Goddess we celebrate you.
I arrived pretty much on the dot between chant workshop and ritual tonight, because I'm feeling a little reluctant to let go and take my leave of things I soon may have to relinquish into the hands and trust of fate far more than I feel ready. During the five minutes between these things I took very lucky, incredibly rare, pictures of the altar before we started. (You, and they, would be getting more of these if I could just remember to bring my camera, since they okayed me doing this in a council meeting years ago.)
Women of Wheat, straw, corn and more
The foot of the altar
The altar pre-being laden
At the end of five minutes, we all joined back together, outside in a circle. As we had been warned previous to bring chairs and water, because out entire Lammas ritual would be taking place outside. In the delightful southern summer Texas heat, which in all honesty was rather surprisingly milder tonight than I had expected given all the warnings. We started with an information a bit about the newbie ritual group doing this all on their own, which was so exciting.
Then there was a long, but interesting piece on Cornucopia, or the Roman Goddess Copia, whose name means simply plenty, abundance, wealth, resources, and opportunity. About the Goddess herself, and the bounty of the year at this the time of the First Harvest. We did a grounding ritual holding the food we'd been requested to bring, grounding into the scents and touch and the places it had come from to be brought here for us.
And then a few people at a time we went up and placed all out pieces of food on the altar, behind the straw making of C(ornuc)opia. Pausing there to spray ourselves with a bottle of diluted Myrrh that was placed on the table for us to ready ourselves. After returning to our spots, they passed a bowl around woman by woman, casting the circle by taking a slice of apple from the bowl and saying to the woman after you
Share with me the sweetness of promises kept.
The we listened a short piece done by one of the nights priestess of on promises, which would be deeply important to the rest of our night. How the first harvest was the first celebration of the promises kept throughout the year. A trinity of important promises. Promises to yourself. Promises to your sisters. And promises between yourself and the Goddess.
During listening to this we watched as two of the other priestess brought forth the Straw Goddess and placed her in a wide metal tub that had been in the center, filled with dirt and other things. And then as the first kept talking about our promises that had been fulfilled, two more of them passed out tied streamers to us in a knot of three. Followed by a sharpie marker. I of course, on the later, chose a dark purple one.
As we listened to her talk about each of these sets of promises we were called to write down a promise we had made -- to ourselves, in the hearing of our sisters, between ourselves and the Goddess -- that had come to fruition. I chose these three promises so easily, as though they rose on the wind to my ears.
"Open again, sleeper. Wake up to all life."
"My heart has been broken. I will love again."
"I will dance, not forgetting, nor trapped remembering."
I feel it's important here, as a part of Temple of Twelve, to say I very so vindicated starting with Red. Fearless and passionate in my need to proclaim with that color. Finally finding it deep inside my bones, claiming that brilliance and blood. Then to Orange, who makes so much sense, and is so much about everyone together. Then yellow, whom I haven't met.
After we had written our three promises down, one on each new strand of streamer, we were asked to braid it together.
Then we asked to secure it to the Straw Goddess in sets of a few at a time. It was amazingly powerful staring at her with everyone's fulfilled promises draping down her. The soft wheaten colors, with the brightest being of Indian corn and certain pieces of wheat still greened, and yet, so dampened by the bright yellow, red, orange of the promises filled. Which made it so incredibly powerful as we watched them light the Goddess and the promises.
The air filling with the ash of our words and hers, everyone standing in such awe before the blaze. It took a very long time, and during it they sang the chant that you saw above the cut and under my Lammas image for this post. Soft and serene and so beautiful as it was happening. As the Straw Goddess smoldered away, she began to talk again. Of our promises. As they passed out this time two long strips of ribbon attached to a safety pin.
And we were asked to look forward, to make promises this time. To ourselves. To our sisters. I chose Red first again, here, too, when writing down my promises again. Bright. Demanding. Glaring in the face of future. For Brown has yet to known me, but through her edges and details at the side of Little Bird, I think Brown would not mind being my hard fingers into the earth learning to help teach in my community work for the next year.
"I will not be stopped by fear."
"I will lead; and I will learn."
We listened as a priestess embodying C(ornuc)opia spoke to us, of the time changing. Of the change in the earth, in the wheat and the trees. As she spoke of leaving into the cycle and the circle. And during this we were each given a gift from her. A piece of homemade, long baked, day long left rising bread, with a (very fitting) orange ribbon tied around it, with a single word left for the last promise between Ourselves and Herself.
BELONGING
We were then instructed once again to weave the three pieces together and I focused a lot of my colors and these three statements. My promises to the future, and it's promise that exists between itself and me. My brown ribbon is intensely longer than the red or orange, so the message on it for my community hangs low and long, still readable to me (where it is hanging on my wall while I write this, to the right of my Solstice Sun from songtoisis and my Self Invocation from Heart Chakra). I think this is going to prove a very important message, worth seeing through the year.
Reminding myself. Promising myself and the universe.
During the weaves of our three ribbons we sang/chanted
Weaver, Weaver, Weave in me
Weaver, Weaver, Weave in me
Is, Was, And Shall Be
The most important words I heard from the next speaker was only a set of six somewhere in the center of her many.
Is. Was. Shall Be.
Me. We. She.
As she spoke of all the important things found in these six we were asking to hold our weaving to our heart. And it ended up in a lot of different places for a lot of different people. Around their wrists, and necks and hands and so much else. Mine ended up in a loop, mined to my heart. (Where I would wear it for the rest of the night, even through a trip to Target and one adorably curious cashier.)
As the flames had doused at this time, we were asked to come do another task in the center of the circle. We were asked to come take a shove full of dirt and ashes for the bottom of the barrel and move them into a cauldron. As we had done with Heart Chakra, pouring out our Heart of petals and water on to our baby pomegranate tree, here again, the mingled dirt and ashes, of our promises kept would be laden on to our darling tree tonight, as well.
Bringing it once more through the circle with us. Another step closer to its almost being a year old in our care, which will come Samhain. With the end of the Old Year and the start of the New Year. While everyone was taking their turn to move some of the dirt which would be used to feed the pomegranate sapling, we sang
She changes everything she touches
And everything she touches changes
A Festival of Reaping Feast and the Abundance of the Harvest, we moved on to our literally cornucopia piled high on the table and waiting still. We were asked to have our feast in a respectful silence of acknowledge meant to ourselves, our sisters, and the goddess, thinking about our promises. Save for one set of words. We were asked to walk to the talk, pick a fruit, vegetable, nut, or bread and instead of eating, present it to one of our sisters, saying
"I share with you the sweetness to be nurtured in the coming months."
It was an amazing sharing of things, and I ended carrying this bright beautiful apple, that was first meant for My Girl but given to me, and in the end, as was meant originally, went home with her as well. I delighted in a fresh, amazingly bright and juicy peach. And after we'd all exchanged those words and gifts, we were welcome to feast on anything at the table as well.
We finished off our thanksgiving feat with
I thank the Earth for feeding my body
And I thank the sun for warming my bones
I thank the trees for the air that I breathe
And I thank the waters for nourishing my soul
We closed the circle after that, and even though it was half past eight, the sky was still light with Texas summer. We talked and joked and got to congratulate our newest ritual makers on such a fabulously, heart expanding, mind blowing ritual. While not being glad for Christina that Tequila 101 was canceled for tonight, as I assume it was complicated for her and her boss, I am so deeply grateful to the universe that I was here in this place, with these women tonight.
And as I was leaving, as beautiful, fitting song, was there when I turned on my car to head home.
Listen as your day unfolds
Challenge what the future holds
Try to keep your head up to the sky
Lovers they may cause you tears
Go ahead release your fears
Stand up and be counted
Don't be ashamed to cry
You gotta be
You gotta be bad
You gotta be bold
You gotta be wiser
You gotta be hard
You gotta be tough
You gotta be stronger
You gotta be cool
You gotta be calm
You gotta stay together
All I know all I know is
Our love will save the day
~*~
And, because it made its first real appearance in this write-up, in all the pictures with my streamers and ribbons and it's been making these show me, show me noises in my head for the last few weeks to no avail of me listening, this is my traveling book this year.
I was given it years ago on my birthday, with its intact front page letter, and back page spell. Also, with the necklaces which hang from its side, which is a double of jasper and an intricate pewter chain, with an emblem that always reminds me just a little of a golden Evil Eye, made with some kind of leaf or flower petal. And it sat on my bed table always feeling wrong if I moved it off it and yet never having anything "good enough to do it with that." Until this year when I unpacked it with my room and went, I should use you.
No more dust. No more uselessness, for you, for either of us.
The things I collect all my notes in at every class and ritual, which bring these detailed write-ups to you with all the chants and my thoughts in them. Plus, it's amazing for jotting spells from passing things, and notes on meditations. Officially I suppose you could call it my Book of Shadows, but I never really consider it that. I think my oddly extended upbringing has rendered me into an odd state of not feeling I need one at times.
Which is not to say I don't have them, I actually have some exquisite ones, both that were made for me and purchased, but that I'm not sure I consider this one. Even if it does fit a lot of the tenants, what with it being the living record of my year and life and magical journey through all of these classes and rituals and magical groups. Mostly....it is my heart beat and my safe place to record my magical everything or nothing.
Maybe on my next Purple post, I'll show you the Temple of Twelve Journal I work in, too.