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athenagrey[Error: unknown template qotd]
Dancing the Sun back home
Last minute rehearsal of holiday chants and songs at the piano. I love that in cold weather, Temple of Ara holds its rituals in a cosy and well-appointed dance studio. The founding High Priestess teased me that the ritual cakes were 'so L.A.' I suppose the were. Humble disks of butter cookie, brushed with orange marmalade and gilded in 23 ct. gold leaf. Jannie's love of creating rich and exotic pastry lives on in me.
ToA has a very loose framework for rituals, and you never quite know how they are going to unfold, except that reverent mirth is a big part of the tradition.
As I sit writing this, a beautiful raven is perched in the Aerie's maple tree. He has come to absorb the last bit of solstice darkness and hold it in his gleaming black feathers until we need it again at midsummer.
The tiny altar was beautiful, encircled by a HUGE evergreen wreath and then by a ring of white candles. Unlit. Waiting.
B. was High Priestess this night, and she had chosen only Priestesses to lead the ritual. We were celebrating the Great Mother Goddess who gives birth to the Sun.
After grounding and letting the cares of the day melt slowly through the floor and be absorbed by the earth, we Sang ourselves into a receptive and centered community, ready to celebrate the nights Mysteries.
The consecration and blessings were the ToA's traditional ones. The first touch of mirth was the jingle bell wreath that B. used to purify the circle with Air. Then, "Hand to hand, I cast this circle." These words, passed from person to person, always light the Divine spark in my heart.
Finally, it was my turn to speak, to make the final invocation. I was just a bit apprehensive. Although I had been a witch for most of my adult life, this was my first time to make an invocation at a public ritual. My ritual script was at my feet in the darkness. I spoke from my heart instead, as had everyone before me. I called in the darkness to Helios, the young Sun God of the ancient Greek people, He who lights our days and gives us hope through the darkness of night. Come to us and be reborn!
Then we settled in to the workings of the ritual, still in the darkness. With ribbons, bells and small glass balls, we fashioned talismans to represent the good things that we would manifest in the returning light. The symbolism was quite lovely, but in practice, we were clumsy and slow in the near darkness, and several people dropped and broke the small glass balls.
Slowly, the great wreath was lifted from the altar and held upright by two Priestesses. Voices took up the chant, and we circled, circled, raising power. One by one, we stepped into the circle, approached the portal, and symbolically cast aside what we did not want to bring into the light. Then, stepping through the wreath, we declared the intentions that were wrought into the talismans, and tied them onto the wreath. Then, approaching the altar, we each lit one candle from another, and returned to the dancing and chanting circle. I don't remember how the chant began, but like good chants, it was alive and kept transforming itself. "Yuletide fires burning bright, bring to us the newborn Light!" And so we sent the power into the talismans. And so we stood bathed in the light.
As the plate of ritual cakes made its way around the circle, people spoke of the gifts that the ritual had brought them, and of their gratefulness.
The Priestesses delivered the closing blessings. I wasn't nervous at all as I stepped forward to give thanks to Helios for his return and for the promise of spring that His light conveyed. "Hail and farewell!"
"Hand from hand," we opened the circle.
Be Blessed this Yule!
Dancing the Sun back home
Last minute rehearsal of holiday chants and songs at the piano. I love that in cold weather, Temple of Ara holds its rituals in a cosy and well-appointed dance studio. The founding High Priestess teased me that the ritual cakes were 'so L.A.' I suppose the were. Humble disks of butter cookie, brushed with orange marmalade and gilded in 23 ct. gold leaf. Jannie's love of creating rich and exotic pastry lives on in me.
ToA has a very loose framework for rituals, and you never quite know how they are going to unfold, except that reverent mirth is a big part of the tradition.
As I sit writing this, a beautiful raven is perched in the Aerie's maple tree. He has come to absorb the last bit of solstice darkness and hold it in his gleaming black feathers until we need it again at midsummer.
The tiny altar was beautiful, encircled by a HUGE evergreen wreath and then by a ring of white candles. Unlit. Waiting.
B. was High Priestess this night, and she had chosen only Priestesses to lead the ritual. We were celebrating the Great Mother Goddess who gives birth to the Sun.
After grounding and letting the cares of the day melt slowly through the floor and be absorbed by the earth, we Sang ourselves into a receptive and centered community, ready to celebrate the nights Mysteries.
The consecration and blessings were the ToA's traditional ones. The first touch of mirth was the jingle bell wreath that B. used to purify the circle with Air. Then, "Hand to hand, I cast this circle." These words, passed from person to person, always light the Divine spark in my heart.
Finally, it was my turn to speak, to make the final invocation. I was just a bit apprehensive. Although I had been a witch for most of my adult life, this was my first time to make an invocation at a public ritual. My ritual script was at my feet in the darkness. I spoke from my heart instead, as had everyone before me. I called in the darkness to Helios, the young Sun God of the ancient Greek people, He who lights our days and gives us hope through the darkness of night. Come to us and be reborn!
Then we settled in to the workings of the ritual, still in the darkness. With ribbons, bells and small glass balls, we fashioned talismans to represent the good things that we would manifest in the returning light. The symbolism was quite lovely, but in practice, we were clumsy and slow in the near darkness, and several people dropped and broke the small glass balls.
Slowly, the great wreath was lifted from the altar and held upright by two Priestesses. Voices took up the chant, and we circled, circled, raising power. One by one, we stepped into the circle, approached the portal, and symbolically cast aside what we did not want to bring into the light. Then, stepping through the wreath, we declared the intentions that were wrought into the talismans, and tied them onto the wreath. Then, approaching the altar, we each lit one candle from another, and returned to the dancing and chanting circle. I don't remember how the chant began, but like good chants, it was alive and kept transforming itself. "Yuletide fires burning bright, bring to us the newborn Light!" And so we sent the power into the talismans. And so we stood bathed in the light.
As the plate of ritual cakes made its way around the circle, people spoke of the gifts that the ritual had brought them, and of their gratefulness.
The Priestesses delivered the closing blessings. I wasn't nervous at all as I stepped forward to give thanks to Helios for his return and for the promise of spring that His light conveyed. "Hail and farewell!"
"Hand from hand," we opened the circle.
Be Blessed this Yule!
