Adventures in Scrying

                I guess it was nearly ten years ago…  I had been living in another state but would be returning to my home in North Carolina in a few months.  While there, I had sought out the local pagan stores and happened upon a Witchcraft 101 class, which seemed an excellent opportunity to learn, meet like-minded practitioners, and feel like I was progressing in the Craft, even though I was far from home and my Coven.

                I had been practicing for nearly a decade at that point, but had never taken a group class and found the company delightful.   The course was nearly a year, and I was only able to attend about half of it, but I enjoyed it incredibly.  It lifted my spirits at a time when I was very, very down, and the various assignments helped me focus on magical possibilities throughout the week, rather than the homesickness deep in my heart.

                 Even on the first night, I learned so much!!  We met in an upstairs classroom of a large pagan store.  The walls were a simple white, decorated with metal tea-light sconces.  My current Craft room, though not white, is similarly lit as I tried to capture the feel of those winter evenings in that upstairs classroom.  The shop-owners had set long tables against the walls, leaving the center free for a circle of chairs, and, on some nights, altars and a Ritual space.

                That night, the center space held a circle of chairs, and after introductions to the instructor, the class objectives, and each other, we were invited to explore the rest of the room.  Set up on the tables were all variety of scrying tools in “stations.”  Each class member was expected to explore each type of tool, and, the instructor explained, some will work better than others.  The point was to try each out, get a feel for how they work, and also identify the methods that work best for each of us.  To ensure we all got to try each one, our explorations were timed, and we shifted en masse from one station to the next.

                The instructor provided an example of using a pendulum.  She held it in one hand and dangled it over the open palm of her other hand.  “Show me your yes,” she spoke out loud, and the pendulum began to swing, hesitant at first.  “Stronger,” she commanded, and pendulum swung harder.  She stilled it.  “Show me your no,” and the pendulum swung along the opposite axis.  Now she could ask it a yes/no question, confident in the answer.

                She encouraged us to explore several of the pendulums available—she had a variety there, in wood, metal and stone.  She informed us that we would find that some materials would work better than others, and after our experiences tonight, we would have a sense of the pendulums that work best for us.

                I tried quite a few pendulums that night, asking each to show me its yes and no, and then testing its feel on various questions.  I learned that stone pendulums work best for me, then metal, then wood.  I can certainly use a wooden pendulum in a pinch, but the wood doesn’t feel alive in my hands and the pendulums swing slowly, as though holding themselves back.  I discovered this about my pendulum work in the candle-lit classroom, that night, but have had it reinforced in several encounters since. 

                I find it odd, honestly, because I love working with wood.  I love the feel of it, the life of it, and wooden objects hold tremendous beauty for me.  I had assumed the wood pendulums would be my first preference. 

                I am reminded of a recent Mead Day celebration where I encountered a vendor of wooden objects.  He had wands and brooms, rune tiles and pendulums, among many other beautiful pieces.  I picked up pendulum after pendulum, trying nearly every one.  “Show me your yes…”  “Show me your no…”  “Are you the pendulum for me?”  And always, piece after piece, it swung no.

                That night back at the class, I tried several stone and metal pendulums.  I am also drawn to metals, and once I realized the wood and I were not a strong match, I assumed the metal pendulums would be for me.  The reaction was certainly stronger, but the stone pendulums swung strongest—vehement, quick, and confident in their answers. 

                And I had my answer.  It would be stone pendulums for me.  And this has remained the case.

                We also went to other scrying stations.  A crystal ball, a scrying mirror, smoke, water… 

                For me, the crystal ball and the scrying mirror were the least successful.  The instructions, for those who don’t know, are to set the instrument in the light such that no clear images are present, as they will distract you.  The light should play through the ball or into the mirror without clear reflections.  The user softens her focus and then allows the images to take shape, listening to one’s intuition during the process.

                These methods, similar in their approach, afford me no help in the scrying itself.  For me, the light doesn’t move, images never appear, and my intuition with these tools feels non-existent.   

                But set me in front of smoke or a water bowl, and I’m good to go!

                To use smoke, it helps to have a lit candle creating a current in the air as well as light to see the images form in the smoke.  And as with all things magical, your intuition is a powerful tool.  That night, I lit the incense stick from the candle, as instructed, and watched the smoke twist and curl.  Images formed and poofed away, creating a rich visual vocabulary for my intuition and subconscious to interpret.  Clear messages formed in the smoke in answer to my questions.

                Next I moved on to the water bowl.  A black bowl, also set with a soft light source nearby, and several small vials of essential oils sat on the table.  The instructor had suggested we use the drops of oil to create shapes on the water, blowing gently to disrupt the mirror-like surface.  This sounded better to me than just looking at the glass-like water, since that would not likely be any more successful than the mirror or the crystal ball.  Those who excel at using the mirror, though, could use a water-filled bowl similarly.

                I chose, though, the oil method, and gently blew my energy onto the water, tapping a few drops of oil onto the surface.  Intense, intuitive images jumped in front of me.  A hare, a Greek goddess, a temple…  The oil was alive with roiling scenes as I stared intently.  The images came so quickly and with so much energy, I knew they were special – more important, if you will, than the images from other methods.  I committed as many as I could to memory and later that night emailed my Shaman for help with the interpretation.

                Turns out the images echoed scenes from his latest journey on my behalf.  We talked and wrote about it quite a bit in the coming weeks as the imagery from several sources coalesced into a powerful message.

                Until recently, that night in that classroom was the only time I spent significant energy scrying.  Each Samhain I have made my tools available to the practitioners joining my Ritual, and typically I gaze longingly into my scrying mirror—a treasured gift from my bestie-bestest friend—hoping it will share its power with me.  However, no powerful messages have made themselves known.

                So we can fast forward now to the Pagan Pride Festival almost a year ago; a friend walked with me from vendor to vendor, as we enjoyed the Magical energy and absorbed the vibrations of the marketplace.  We came across a jeweler selling, among other things, pendulums.  I showed my friend what I had been taught in the class, many years ago.  “Show me your yes…”  We tried several, and we each found pendulums that matched our energy;  a quick exchange of non-magical funds, and the pendulums were ours.

                One of the last times I wrote in this blog was that weekend.  Life took yet another unexpected turn shortly after that, and a huge negative wind blew through my house.  Its force was great enough that I wondered whether my life would be permanently changed as a result.  In the midst of this terrifying experience, I saw my new pendulum resting in its tiny cloth bag on my desk.  I grabbed it, with the chaotic energy flying all around me—I felt just like the depiction in the movies where the wind is whipping inside and lights and shadows are flying around the room.  None of this was literal truth, but the energies in the house felt that way.  I grabbed the pendulum and followed the steps I’d been taught.  “Show me your yes…”  I asked it if this was a permanent thing, would my life be forever changed by these forces?  “No” was the clear answer.

                “So this is just temporary?  Just right now?”  “Yes” was the clear answer.

                I straightened, feeling more powerful than I had in a long time.  No matter how hard it got, these would not be permanent injuries.  I would not only get through this, but I would be unscathed.  I braced myself for the storm, walked back into the chaotic space, and rode it out.

                True to the Universe’s word, the energies of that night were the culmination of a building process, not the beginning.  The next morning brought a calm clarity, and those energies never returned.

                In my Samhain blog a few weeks later, I wrote how I intended to use my new pendulum for scrying on that powerful night.  What I never got a chance to say was that when I went to do so, I found the pendulum broken.  The chain, which was fully intact when I used it and slid it back into its bag, was disconnected.  Neither link – the one connected to the bob, nor the one on the end of the chain itself—was bent.  I found no bent link inside the bag.  The pendulum chain was simply dissected.

                I mentioned it to a friend, in the context of fixing it, and she was quick to correct me.  Obviously, the pendulum had served its magical purpose.  I agreed, and the pendulum will not be repaired.

                So things have calmed considerably since those days.  We had another serious storm hit in the spring, totally unrelated to the first.  During that time, it was the work of my Shaman and my consultation with Tarot cards that reassured me.

                As things return to normal, I found myself in a pagan store again, staring at a display of pendulums.  It was the day after Mead Day when the wooden pendulums had reminded me I needed one but then rejected me one by one.  I ignored the wooden pendulums in this particular display, and in fact, the metal ones as well, remembering the lessons of that first night of the class. 

I picked up first a pendulum with a pointed crystal bob, with beautiful striations.  “Show me your yes…”  It said it was indeed an acceptable pendulum for me.  I tried several others, several of which said “no,” and some which said yes but with less energy.  Then I saw a beautiful pendulum—the bob was a circular white stone veined with brilliant black lines.  The top, where it joined the chain, and the bottom, where it came to a point, were metal.  The chain had a rainbow of chakra stones up its length.  When I asked if it was the pendulum for me, it gave me a whole-hearted, enthusiastic “yes!”   I eyed the price tag.  “I’m SO SORRY!” I whispered sheepishly to the beautiful pendulum.  “You are not the pendulum for me,” and I carefully, respectfully, and apologetically fastened it back to the display.  Next to it, though, was a similar design, with a bright blue stone, and no stones along the chain.  Much more affordable, I pulled it down, asked it if it would be mine, and it said yes.

                At home, I considered the role of a pendulum for me.  My husband is starting a new business, and I am toying with a business idea as well.  I have also, as you can plainly see, neglected my writing in the last year. 

                I cleared a section of table in my home and set up three lines, intersecting in the middle.  One I deemed BOOK, one I deemed BUSINESS, and one I deemed HUSBAND.  I asked, “will the second income in our family come from my book, my business, or my husband?”  The pendulum clearly showed “husband.”  

                I then asked it yes/no questions to follow up, asking it first to show me the yes.  I asked if starting my new business would make me happy.  It said no.  I asked if writing my book would make me happy.  It said yes.

                And so, here I sit—trying to get the writing energies flowing again after a year of significant trials and storms.

                Yesterday I downloaded and began reading the latest book in a mystery series by Bailey Cates.  The magically inclined, fairly simple fictions have been a source of great pleasure these last few months and leave me yearning for magic.   I looked around the house.  The full moon hung invitingly, the living room was cleaned up and straightened, and I could feel the powerful energies abounding.

                I pulled out my scrying mirror.  I lit silver and gold candles, chanted briefly for grounding and safely, and stared with a soft focus.  The scrying mirror blurred in front of me, creating a perfect stage for images.  My eyes felt like they do when you stare at the 3-D prints that were so popular at the malls a decade or so ago.  I knew the messages would start coming.  I could feel them, right at the surface.

                Ummm…  remember I said the scrying mirror and I don’t get along?  I got nuthin.

                I stared for several minutes.  The black surface had turned gray in preparation.  The images were there, I knew it.  But nothing appeared.

                Time for Plan B.  I lit an incense stick and held it in front of the candle.  I rhythmically jiggled the incense, causing the smoke to dance and jump.  The air current in my living room sent the smoke to the right, in front of the gold/God candle.  At first I felt the dull sense of disconnection from the energies, in spite of the simultaneous feeling that they danced all around me.  Soon though, I was in the smoke.  The first images just looked like writing, and I assumed the message was that yes, there is a message.  I later realized this was more likely referring to my writing, a follow-up of the earlier message from the pendulum.

                Then the images came—a woman dancing, an elk, a snake, a tree, and image after image of a woman in an ecstatic dance.  A clear smoke ring formed and then broke sharply in one spot, with my intuition that a binding force had been broken.

After a few minutes, the smoke stopped moving with such vigor.  It no longer drifted directly toward the God candle.  It moved leftward, toward the silver candle and away.  Even shaking the incense caused the smoke to make a rhythmic zigzag, exactly what you would expect, without the energetic images of before.  The air conditioning continued its hum in the background, so I would expect the air currents to be the same.   But the life of the smoke had left the room, and I was just looking again at the science of a burning incense stick.

I ended the ritual, and took notes.  Then I went to find my animal oracle deck to look at the Elk card.  I never found it, realizing I wasn’t meant to look there.  In searching, though, I saw my Rune book and remembered the protection Rune is the Elk.  I read about Algiz and the strong protection and prosperity it brings. 

I will continue to think on the other images, but to me, I heard the message – get writing so you can get to that ecstatic dancing!  So here you are, reading a very long entry about scrying.

Blessed be!!

Putting the Year to Rest

As we approach Samhain (it's tomorrow, people, TOMORROW!!!), I have been giving some thought to putting this year to rest. Last year it occurred to me that Samhain is a good time to put the year to rest, and then to open the new year on Yule, providing a transition between the two.  I still love this idea--for one thing, I will be focused on holiday celebrations over the next few months, and the idea of a between-year rest seems like the perfect framework for holiday celebrations.  I will be much less likely to take on longer-term goals, and I will spend the time in November and December appreciating my community and joining in holiday-themed celebrations.

Samhain itself, for me, will be spent readying our home for our annual trick-or-treat celebration.  We have steadily added to our holiday decorations over the years, and for the last several weeks, my yard has held host to pumpkin lights, skeleton lights, lighted skulls, ghouls, ghosts and a skeleton tea party.  Tomorrow we will add the boxes and boxes of not-weather-resistant items--rats, bugs, more skulls, more ghouls, shelves of jars filled with enchanting contents with macabre labels, and all manner of creepy, gooey, and frightening things.  We'll be serving candy to the kids, obviously, and hot mulled cider to the grown-ups who come by.

As we do put this year to rest, I will be thinking of all that has happened this year, remember the losses and near-misses we had this year, and consider rest on a spiritual level--well earned this year, if ever!!  I'll pull out the Tarot cards and take some time to consider what messages my subconscious has for me.  I hope to be open to all the messages of the Universe--from myself, my loved ones who have passed on, and helpful forces in other realms.  I'll bring out my new pendulum, my animal spirit cards, and my scrying mirror and spend some time deciding which has a message for me. 

This week has been particularly busy at work, so while tomorrow will be jam-packed with holiday preparations, I'm also looking forward to the relative mental quiet as we prepare for the kids; all Samhain celebrations will start after the Halloween celebrations are over.  I'll be decorating and making cider and focusing on things that are joyful and fun; I won't clutter my mind with worries or chores or the things that typically clutter up my mind.  I am looking forward to this "bedtime ritual" for the year.

Mabon Musings

Can I be frank? If you don't mind, I shall say, simply, this summer has kicked my ass.

I experienced several difficult stressers this summer, but I'm very glad to report that in the end, they all turned out fine.  I have a strange sense of exhaustion and gratitude--a sense that my family and I have survived.  And I can't help but feel a little "first-world problem"-y about much of it.  For example, the summer stress started on Father's Day, when we had just torn out our kitchen for a major make-over when our dog, Eddie T. Wonderdawg, blew out his knee.  To avoid an expensive surgery we couldn't afford, our dog (and therefore the humans too) needed eight weeks of bed rest.  So every moment we weren't at work, we were in the bed with the dog. 

Here are all the things to be grateful about in that scenario...  I have a kitchen, and I can remodel it.  We are doing much of the work ourselves because we love doing that kind of thing.  It's true, we couldn't afford to pay someone to do it, but then, our kitchen worked fine before we tore it apart.  We just didn't like it.  What a privilege, to decide I don't like my kitchen and I want a new one!

We have a dog.  We have a GREAT dog.  He's a wonderful, smart, healthy dog.  So so sweet.  We don't want him in pain, and when he blew out his knee, we were able to take him to an emergency vet who diagnosed him and gave him meds.  The next morning I had a long conversation with his primary vet, and we made a treatment plan.  I could afford the emergency care, I didn't have to put my dog down for a terrible injury, and I could give him pain meds. When I remember the huge swaths of this planet where humans don't get this much care, I can't feel anything but grateful.

We put off our kitchen reno, with everything from the kitchen crowded into the living room, and spent much of the next eight weeks in bed with the dog.  We both went to work--we have jobs!!  Another thing to be grateful for!!--but during those weeks, we spent all our spare time in the bed with the dog.  We carried him outside to pee, and carried him back in the house.  He is about 65 pounds--any bigger and I would not have been able to lift him.  But we were able to rehab his knee, and eventually he was able to walk and run.  Now he appears fully recovered, and we were able to avoid the surgery for his bad knee, and avoid an injury to his good knee.  How lucky I felt when I realized we were making it through this process.

But then some more serious things started happening.  The stress of our living situation took a toll on our marriage, and my husband and I took a little break.  I moved into the guest room, with the dog, and my husband and I started being much more polite and nicer to one another.  After several weeks, we were able to come back together with renewed strength and compassion for one another.

During that time, my car stopped working, and since it had been in bad shape for a long time, we had already decided not to fix it.  I spent what little tiny savings I had on getting a car that was new to me.

I was also filled with gratitude during this time, as my marriage not only survived but was happier and stronger than before.  And although I had to get a different car, a good, good friend offered me an excellent price on a delightful little car that I just love.  And even though I spent every extra cent I had, I was grateful that I had the savings available to do it.  During many other times of my life, I would have been unable to buy the car, even at the great price he offered it.  I was also grateful for the car I'd had--the one that stopped working--it had worked for several years and had been purchased for a low price as well.  Indeed, my experiences with cars, though trying, have been positive.

Shortly after things settled down with the dog, the car, and the marriage, we got word that a good friend was nearing the end of his life.  He is an older gentleman, and he and his wife had been amazing friends to us.  We went to his side and did our best to support his family.  A few days passed, and one afternoon we went again to visit him.  We were there when our friend died, and we were pleased to later participate in a memorial service befitting his amazing presence in our lives.  

During these weeks, we were able to get some of the kitchen renovation back under way.  I was mudding the seams of our new ceiling, learning for my first time, how to do drywall, and I was thrilled to learn a new skill.  My days were made of smearing mud and sanding.  I felt exhilarated to learn a skill that had previously eluded me.

Meanwhile, a very good friend shared the news that she had been diagnosed with cancer.  The prognosis is good--her type of cancer responds well to treatment.  But her life, as well as her wife's, was about to be turned upside down.  We offered our support, but felt like bystanders with little tangible to offer in such a difficult time.

Then, on Labor Day weekend, we were tearing out the kitchen sink and some cupboards, getting excited again about the progress being made in the kitchen.  On Tuesday, when we were getting ready to head back to work, Bill developed a crippling headache.  The story of Bill's headache is documented in my other blog (http://alifeineverexpected.blogspot.com/2014/09/the-longest-night.html), and the end result was that he had had a stroke. 

Bill, who is the most resilient man I have ever met, recovered quickly, and is almost 100% himself again. 

Again, I felt immense gratitude that this potentially horrible situation worked out ok.  And as the information about the stroke unfolded and we organized our lives around his recovery (which was incredibly quick!), our friends surrounded us with love, support and food.  SO MUCH to be grateful for.

So this Mabon, I will not be hosting my usual friends for Ritual.  Life has just been too hectic, and the house is a mess.  But I will be having a small Ritual for myself, and I will be celebrating several different energies.  The first, let's be honest, is GOOD-BYE SUMMER.  Seriously, people.  GOOD-BYE.

The second is THANK YOU to the Universe for blessing us with so much.  Not only do we have all we need, but even when we experienced very difficult times, we were able to recover fully.  And a thank you to the Universe for my husband, in particular, who has already survived so many hardships and has been resilient to a major medical assault.

The third is a white candle of healing energies for my loved ones who are experiencing medical issues and those who are struggling with loss.

When the time came for the actual Ritual, Bill decided to stand with me.  We struggled a bit with where to do it.  The house is a mess.  There are no places that are calm, clean, and ready for spiritual practice.  We decided on the front porch.

I threw a gold table cloth over our small porch table, and spread across it the decorative squash and tiny pumpkins I'd purchased for this purpose.  I collected the elemental figures from my personal altar, as well as the goddess and god figurines.  I lit the Mabon candle I have, which is a yellow and orange pillar candle, a gift from my Shaman, that I have used at each Mabon.  I set the three candles left to right--black, silver, and white--behind the altar items.  I set a plate with nuts and a sliced apple in front of the altar items, to the right of the Mabon candle, and a crystal chalice with a (coincidentally amber-colored) adult beverage to the left.  We stopped for a minute to admire the simple beauty of our Spiritual items and the abundance of the Mabon themed altar.

We ground and centered ourselves, set the circle, called the quarters and the deities.  I lit the black candle, focusing on the challenges we have faced, and asking the Universe to burn off the negativity and let it be taken away from us.

I lit the silver candle, focusing on the blessings and healing that has come our way, and asking the Universe to draw more of these energies toward our light, and to let the blessing energies continue to flow.

I lit the white candle, focusing on the healing energies of the Universe and asking that the energies be directed to our loved ones.  We spoke their names out loud and also offered a general blessing to those we failed to mention.

Bill and I each took some of the apple and nuts, we each took a sip from the chalice; then I left the circle to leave most of the apple and the nuts in offering by a tree in our yard, under our green man.  I poured out the fermented beverage in a ring around the offering.  I rejoined the Circle.

As we extinguished the candles at the end of the Ritual, we reiterated our hopes for banishing negative energies while maintaining and drawing the positive ones.  As soon as I blew out the black candle I felt a weight lifting, felt the burden lighten, felt hopeful and content. 

Closing the Circle went as it usually does, and we were happy to feel connected and safe.  I'm glad I took the time to honor Mabon.  Too often, I find myself too rushed to celebrate it, even though it is one of my favorite Sabbats. 

Blessed be.

Thoughts on New Year

So we have just celebrated Yule.  I was married on Yule a year ago, so now my Yule celebrations will also be anniversary celebrations.  Although I was excited to marry during the magical time of renewal, I did not think about how my anniversary celebrations would conflict with celebrating Yule with my favorite celebrants.  I shall have to think this through differently next year!

So I missed having a Yule-specific experience because I was busily having an incredible get-away weekend with my husband, who planned and executed the whole thing.  What a delight!

On the way home, we stopped at our Unitarian congregation for their Yule service, and the focus of the meditation there was to consider what creative projects we would embark on as the sun's light returns.  Some sought more balance, others healthier living.  And as I listened to my friends consider their upcoming efforts, I was, of course, reminded of new year's resolutions, and in turn, of my struggle to balance the Samhain celebration of new year with those who celebrate the new year at Yule.

So for me, Samhain is new year's.  In the past we had huge, blow-out parties, and "Happy New Year" rang out frequently.  I gladly adopted the new year tradition of many modern Pagans, and although my Samhains are far more low-key now, the sense that we are ending the year comes naturally with the feelings of Samhain, the close of what are often powerful seasons of summer and harvest. 

However, Yule, and certainly the planning of projects and gearing up for the returning light, also feel like a new year's celebration.  I have considered for many years now that perhaps I need to change my perspective and celebrate the new year at Yule, as I am aware some folks do. 

But this year I had a different realization.  While my Samhain Rituals are marking the close of the old year, I do not feel the opening of the next year until Yule.  Perhaps this is something obvious to many people already practicing the old ways, but why must we close one year and open the next immediately?  I don't close a day and open the next without a great sleep in between.  I don't finish a meal and immediately start the next.  I don't finish a project and turn to start the next without taking time to enjoy and savor what has been accomplished.

So why was I holding on to this expectation that the close of one year would be immediately followed by the opening of the next?

For me, now, Samhain will be the closing of the year.  Entering a sleep.  I am realizing how obvious this sounds as I type it, but it is quite a realization for me.  And then I will mark the opening of the next year at Yule.  The weeks that pass in between--well, they are already focused on the American holiday season.  Thanksgiving and Christmas preparations take a lot of my time and energy, and I enjoy the pause in the year that the holidays impose.  We made a point of getting the most out of the holidays this year, with a trip to Old Salem (a Moravian community steeped in American history that celebrates an old-fashioned Christmas tradition throughout December), many trips around town to soak up the Christmas lights, home-made Christmas cards, and catching The Snow Queen at a local theater as part of our anniversary celebrations. 

I believe many people feel and act different during the holiday season--we eat more, spend more, and indulge more.  What a wonderful metaphor of the day cycle applied to the year-- the weeks between Samhain and Yule as a dream state, complete (in my case) with the magical thought that calories won't make me heavier, and my bank account is endless.  I love the idea of a pause between Samhain and Yule, a chance to take a break between harvest and planting, to simply enjoy all there is. 

In considering this essay, I found another article along the same lines, and the author decided that celebrating new beginnings throughout the Wheel of the Year worked for her.  She felt the rhythm of the festivals and each new beginning they represented, and she realized we don't have to be limited to one "new year" celebration.  I love this idea as well, but for me, I like the import that the new year brings.  It has a weightiness to it.  So much so, that it needs two days--one for closing, and one for opening.  I look forward to this new perspective, and I will keep you posted as I let it simmer a bit.  In the meantime,

Blessed Yule!!

Samhain 2013

Samhain is one of those festivals that I prefer to celebrate on the actual day (as opposed to the nearest weekend).  But I also love Halloween, and it's hard to do both.  For years I tried to celebrate Halloween and enjoy the children, and then Ritual afterwards, but it was just too much.

So this year, we hosted friends for Samhain on Saturday, and then we will celebrate Halloween on Thursday.  At the beginning of the month, we loaded the yard with pumpkin lights, as well as strings of purple and orange lights. We added skulls strewn about the yard, a broom parking lot, giant spiders, and ghouls in the trees.  We draped black crepe fabric over the porch rails and hung a funky "shroud fabric" in the trees.  On the door, we have a grape vine wreath painted black and decorated with skulls and shiny bats.

In the invitation for the Ritual, we asked people to come ready to talk about their ancestors and the ancestral energies they want to get in touch with.  We prepared the space, setting the altar in the east, where the grounding Earth energies would be their highest.  We covered the table with a black cloth, and set the altar with all black tools--Air was a blown-glass ball that is threaded with black on the inside; Fire was an oil lamp I had made with a vase full of black marbles and filled with lamp oil, with a wick up the center; Water was a black-stemmed wine glass filled with rain water; and Earth was a large, black fossil stone we had collected during a trip to the mountains. Two black taper candles stood near the center, and I scattered black stones about the altar for added Earth energies and some visual texture.  We placed a black wooden skull, and a black iron star as well.  The center held a glass and metal sculpture that creates a three-dimensional, many-pointed star.

We also made an ancestor altar, again with a black cloth.  I placed black taper candles--one for each participant (11 this evening)--in a half circle around the back edge of the altar.  Over the years we have collected many, many glass candle holders in various heights and sizes, so all the black tapers were of different heights.  In the center was a low glass skull candle holder and a single candle, which we lit before guests arrived.  I also placed a scrying mirror on the table.  As people came in, we placed ancestral memory items on the table, with items from the mother's side of the family on the left, and the father's side on the right.

We gathered and first simply met to talk about our experiences with ancestral energies.  We ate and drank--I had made mulled cider, taking care to include apple slices cut with the stars showing--and we chatted casually at first.  Once we were ready to start really focusing the conversation, we took a few moments to cast a protective circle, given the thinned veils and the potential to invite unwanted energies.

We took special care with the safety of the Circle for this Ritual, and I believe any writing about Samhain should include a nod to spiritual safety. Those who are vulnerable should take extra care, as one of our friends did, when she chose not to use the mirror that night.  For those like me who are not particularly open to these energies, choosing this time of year may help in finding what you seek.  But for those like my friend who is very open, scrying would be safest when the veils are not so thin. If you don't need the thin veils to be successful, the safer choice is to wait.  Remember, you should always feel in control of your own situation. For that matter, if you are practicing with others, you should never feel pressured to engage in a level you are not comfortable with.

We then spoke on our experiences learning about our families and ancestors.  Some spoke in general terms of their ethnic heritage, others spoke of family traditions, and others of family members lost.  Some chose not to speak, and this was honored, of course.  Then, when the timing was right, we called Quarters and lit the main altar.  Then we each in turn went to the ancestor altar and lit a black taper, and those who wanted to had a chance to experience the scrying mirror, a first for several in the group.

I later received news from several participants that they had their own individual experiences after leaving our home, and it occurred to me how much of a spiritual practice really is a solitary experience, even for those who Ritual in a group.  So we come together for structure, direction, motivation, and social contact, but in the end, the spiritual experience itself is very personal and individual.

By the end of the Ritual, we had many black candles glowing, and we knew each other better.  We have been working together for nearly a year, and I hope we are developing strong, intimate ties.

Blessed be!

Public service announcement

I have been thinking lately about the various things that tie our community together. We live in an amazing age, when distance is nearly inconsequential, and we can connect really anywhere. Don't worry, this is not yet another blogger going on about social networking. We're all on Facebook or we're not. Whatever. We get it.

And while I love so very much the connections I have with individuals, I have been thinking specifically about the connections we have to the community as a whole. The sense that we are a culture of our own. I have been thinking about things like music and drumming and street festivals. How word of mouth is still word of mouth, in spite of all the internet options to talk and discuss, I still find many of my connections in traditional ways. So here is something I have found that helps me feel connected to a larger community. In case you're interested...

Spiral Rhythm has a new CD out called Rise Up, available on iTunes. I love Spiral Rhythm for making me feel like I'm connected to something bigger. Their songs soothe me and bring me right to a spiritual place. Some are drum-driven chants that roll through your blood and get you right in synch with the energy in the air. Others are more melodic and gentle. What I particularly love is the vocabulary of paganism that let's you feel at home and included in our somewhat private language. To me they have songs to match the seasons--their song "Bringing Change," to me sounds like a song perfect for the Yule season. And "Twilight Wood" feels like a Mabon song. Other songs, like "The Faith Inside," are just great sing-along tunes that can get you through difficult times. The whole album -- indeed, for me, the whole existence of Spiral Rhythm -- reinforces my beliefs and helps me feel connected. Listening to them reminds me I don't have to make my spiritual path alone.

Oh, and one more thing--even though I said this wouldn't be about Facebook, if you ARE on Facebook you should check out Moms on Brooms. She is awesome and for me has the right blend of spirituality and playfulness for a public page, with a mix of pop culture icons and truly spiritual offerings.

Ok. That is my public service announcement for today. Carry on...

Mabon

You may remember that it was a year ago that I began this recommitment to the Craft. A friend and I -- she had been similarly disconnected from her own practice -- had a ritual in the yard, expressing our gratitude for all we had accomplished in the light times, honoring the change toward the dark times. This year I made a similar plan, and invited the usual crew.   I had planned to have a fire outside, and therefore had no altar set up. Unfortunately we had another night of rain. This is probably the rainiest year in a very long time in North Carolina, and as I prepared for this ritual, I read over this very blog. A surprising number of our rituals this year have been affected by rain. And sure enough, Mabon would be no different.

 So we moved it all inside, and prepared the fireplace for a fire.I had timed us so we would be at the height of the ritual at 7:15, when the sun set. We gathered briefly, and then formed the Circle in the room, leaving the space by the hearth open. We called Quarters simply, and I adapted the words of the Spiral Rhythm song, "Bringing Change," to highlight the Wheel's turn. Once the Quarters were called, we lit the fire.

I had prepared the space with paper and pens for everyone, and once the Quarters were called, we sat and wrote out a list of what we had each accomplished in recent months. A harvesting of sorts--the intentional and careful assessment of all we had done. We then took turns burning our lists in the fire, sending our gratitude and accomplishments into the spirit worlds, and building on those energies to continue blessing us.

I had placed a cauldron on the hearth with rubbing alcohol in it, and I lit a blue flame to represent the moon's light. We talked about our experiences and our personal lists while both the sun's fire and the moon's fire burned.

As we enter the dark times, I thought the animal oracle cards would add to the ritual. So we each pulled a card from the deck and were instructed to learn more about the animal in the coming weeks. 

I pulled Goose, which comes to us to navigate difficult times. At the time of the ritual, I had no idea what that meant. But Goose also brings a focus to our marital relationships. I had assumed this was the message for me because my marriage has been amazing lately. I made sure to honor that in my ritual as well. It is a couple weeks later as I write this, and I have been laid off from my job. Or at least given notice of the lay-off in a few months. And my husband has been remarkably supportive. In ways I wouldn't have even thought to ask for. The Goose energies are very much here with us--navigating difficult experiences together.

The rest of the ritual passed with the closing of the Circle and a light feast. As is the case with good friends who gather for ritual, we then talked for a long time. I love the feeling of talking late in to the evening with people you love and with whom you have an intimate, spiritual connection. Our household is preparing for Halloween and Samhain. I look forward to discovering what the Universe has in mind for our Samhain ritual...