Sunrise approaches as I type this. I just went into the backyard to retrieve my brat Bhride, “Mantle of Brigid,” which I’d left outdoors overnight last night per Scottish folk custom. Now I have a valuable aid in my healing work.
It’s lovely to see the sun starting to peek over the gables of houses in the east while in the southwest, a lovely waning quarter moon in Libra graces the skies.
When it comes to my personal or coven-based ritual celebrations of the Four Greater Sabbats / Celtic Fire Festivals, the eve of the Sabbat always proves to be a time as energetically charged as the day or feast days themselves. Imbolc Eve is one of my favorite liminal stations in the Wheel of the Year.
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Organically developing devotional and seasonal observance rituals of an ecstatic nature are my favorite types of rituals. My annual Mothers’ Night observance blends both types of rituals—devotional and seasonal—in an ecstatic, worlds-traversing and Wyrd-shaping way.
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As I type these words, a winter storm advisory has just been issued by the National Weather Service and my little corner of far northeast Illinois is getting coated in snow. Given that the ancient Celts recognized November Eve as the start of Winter, I don’t mind the presence of snow one bit. Once I publish this post, as the last light of the afternoon dies, I’ll head out into my woods out back, strike the earth with my blackthorn staff, and welcome the Cailleach. This is Her time.
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Blessings of balance to all my readers at the start of the Sun’s annual transit through the Cardinal Air Sign of Libra! And blessings of abundance, vibrant health, and steadfast courage through transformation via the Mysteries (of the Dark) to fellow devotees of the Gods evoked in my group’s public Autumn Equinox Sabbat held just a couple of hours ago: Demeter Evalosia, Dionysos, Hades, and Persephone.
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What a glorious outdoor ritual that just concluded! Every Midsummer, I renew my covenant with the “Good Neighbors” and reaffirm the reciprocal ties of hospitality and peace, particularly with the spirits of land, tree, and river.
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Some Preliminary Words
This ritual, which is meant to be performed outdoors as the sun begins to set, leans into my hardcore Gardnerian background whilst also lending expression to the shared non-Wiccan Trad Craft sensibilities among the majority of the coven’s members.
There are a few songs and chants in this ritual and these absolutely have to be committed to memory weeks in advance. It would be advisable to do a group rehearsal too, even if no members of the “public” are there to witness this. It would be ideal for all the lines of the ritual below to be memorized well in advance of the ritual’s execution; if that isn’t possible, understand the gist of what is to be said by whom and when—and speak from the heart. Don’t carry printed scripts around, please, because getting caught up in the head space of “speaking lines” dissipates the focus on the energies that the ritual is meant to build and direct. Act from a place of mindfulness.
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I spent the majority of the day driving home from Minnesota (8 hours this time because I made several pit stops) but I wanted to wish everyone a joyous and vibrant time of hope with the Vernal Equinox today if you live in the Northern Hemisphere, and a blessed time of abundance and joyful harvest at Fall Equinox if you live in the Southern Hemisphere.
The Minneapolis area was still stuck with snow (three feet of it in the vicinity of my hotel) but I was so happy the further and further I traversed southeast through Wisconsin and then reaching Illinois to see a complete and total absence of snow.
And when I arrived home, my courageous little daffodils were pushing their way up through the seemingly dead dirt of my garden to announce the arrival of Spring. Blessed Be!
After stirring “in the belly” (what Irish Gaelic “Imbolg” literally means) of a fallow season, we undergo birth pangs to extricate ourselves from winter’s constricting force. Fueled by the Goddess/Saint Brigid’s sacred fires of hearth, head, and heart that warm, inspire, and heal; and cleansed by Her holy waters of renewal, we stand assuredly in Her might.
Let us pray:
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The transition from July to August and the first 10 days or so of August are among my most cherished times of the year. The sight of Summertime abundance on display—basketfuls of mulberries from my own front and back yards; and from local markets, piles of ears of golden non-GMO sweet corn from fields within a quarter mile of where I live; honeycombs and cranberries harvested from Wisconsin farms a short drive across the border; a profusion of luscious peaches, varieties of apples; blackberries; and even gooseberries from Michigan—is a welcome treat for the eyes that never fails to lift my spirits and pivot my consciousness into an attitude of gratitude.
Even in the midst of a worrisome drought that’s affected my county since Spring, the Gracious Gods bestow an outpouring of gifts and it’s right and just to give Them thanks and praise. As I smeared organic blackberry preserves on my Lammas ritual leftovers of rosemary-infused bread loves that I sliced and turned into Serbian-style French toast for breakfast this morning for my family, I sighed with contentment. Life is more than good. And every day that I’m above ground is a very good day.
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amor et mortem 