FULL MOON RITUAL October 1997

	Moon Before Samhain Old Castle Grove Snow Moon Leader : Cloud Date : 16 October 1997 Return to the Full Moon Ritual 1997 Index

Cloud has come early to the oak grove to the north of the castle, to stand alone and feel the power of the ancient trees. She notices that, although the surrounding woods are an eyefeast of color, the foliage has thinned enough that we will be able to glimpse "a fire on every hill" in the coming night. The oaks themselves are just browning the edges of their leaves, and the circle stills smells headily of thyme, the footing soft with the selaginella sacred to this tradition growing among the thyme.

She sweeps the circle with a broom that is itself an honor to her ancestors, made from the gifts of an apple tree given her by a beloved departed priest and friend and a willow growing in the yard of the living one who currently seems to have the charge of keeping Cloud on her toes. More to gather the attention of those around than to keep anything bad out, she sweeps a circle that needs no protection, circling three times in each direction and asking the squirrels to keep up their good behavior with the acorns.

She removes a few leaves that have fallen on the altar slab, and places on it her crystal ball candlesticks, gratefully notices that the small offering table she set up earlier is still in place. The wind is not so brisk here, where the trees keep the breezes from biting bones, and although the ground is cool enough for shoes, the weather feels like it will remain warm enough for a nights work without discomfort.

As the west edge of the forest turns just a little orange and a last beam of sun cuts through the shadows at the base of the trees, Cloud is satisfied with the readiness of this place that is never truly unready. She hugs a handy oak tree and, whispering "see you later", returns to the castle along the twisting forest path to await those arriving for the ritual.

And we do arrive, in the warm stone room, where candles glow and a huge table holds the beginnings of a sumptuous feast, sure to be added to by arriving guests for a glorious feed after the Ritual. The skylight has been opened, and we gaze up into deepening blue flecked with stars between the enthusiastic hugs we exchange as we meet again. Grins, hugs and small talk fade as we realize the sky has gone all the way dark and our number is complete. Cloud has worn her copper moon crown for the occasion, and a warm brown cloak over the green-brown robe, but she hasn't seen the need for shoes after all; it seems the weather is continuing to cooperate. As she moves to the north door, we form a sort of line to pass through to the winding path, where we will need to walk single file.

We can hear the small voices of animals over a rambunctious, but not bitter wind, and our feet crunch leaves though some remain on the trees. In the dark, it seems the trees reach out at times to touch our faces, gently, perhaps with recognition. The footing is careful, but not dangerous, and we need no light but stars. Perhaps there are a few more turns in this path than we remember, but it isn't long before we glimpse bright moonrise and the path opens out to reveal the sacred grove.

We stand among old presences with new and familiar friends, each other and the trees. It is a place of memories, but forever new - a place with an old and holy tradition where things constantly change and remake themselves. As we find our places on the soft ground of the circle, we notice again that although this round has been trodden by thousands of feet the thyme and the mosses return without harm, as if they know we don't want to hurt them in their home. We breathe the energy around us, and it begins to form into its accustomed shape here: above, below, surrounding and within this sacred space and the people within.

Cloud still has not spoken, and does not speak now. She gazes around the circle, casting itself minute by minute of the power that remains here and is strengthened by our presence. The stiffening breeze flutters her robe as rising brilliance glitters moonlight in her hair, and after a long moment she signals Owlbear in the East...

...On a windswept hill, with nothing but the lady's light to guide our steps, we tread paths of antiquity leading to the summit. Dusk falls. Stars begin to appear, mirrored by the bonfires beginning to dot the countryside. As we gather on the hilltop the wind picks up... With arms upraised we are greeted by gusts of wind. Leaves dancing at our feet, the scents of fall an intoxicating mix of dead leaves, pumpkins, apples, and richly turned earth. Wisps of our own sage, cedar, and frankincense linger about our head, adding their power to the wind.

In this opening of the season of closing we prepare for our inward journeys. As veils part and our ancestor's spirits fly the wind about us we are at no time closer to the triple Lady. Facing East, face upturned into the wind Owlbear proclaims,

"Hail guardians of the watchtowers of the East. Keepers of the big wind. Please join our circle, hold and protect us as we ride the wind. Sweep through our souls helping us to clear that which is outmoded. Bring us strength as we open to enlightenment."

Sniffing the wind, Owlbear begins to laugh, air's most powerful human expression. His laugh turns into a roar as he invites the circle to join him. Gales of laughter ride the wind welcoming the season to come.

"BE HERE NOW", Owlbear proclaims, turning to Norda with a wink...

...Norda nods back at Owlbear and strides to the South quarter, garbed in her copper gown and soft honey-colored boots. It is not yet cold enough for her heavy copper cloak, and she enjoys the play of the winds around her and through her this night. She takes a red candle from her red pouch and lights it, intoning,

"Be with us now, Guardians of the South, you who light and warm and invigorate, spirits who inflame the hearts of stars and who dance among the fires that ignite the smallest of particles. Be welcome in our Circle!"

She steps back into the ring of friends, to await...

...Azeroth turns, faces west, and pulls back his hood. In a voice that seems to come from the very grove itself, he intones,

"Spirits of the Living Sea, We Call Thee Now to Set Us Free.
By All the Power of Well and Tide, By Cup and Love and River Wide;
Guardians of West, We Bid Ye Here, To Watch This Rite and Linger Near,
To Guard Our Way in This Night, Attend This Circle Bright,
To Protect Us in this Magick Rite."

As the last word is spoken, one could almost here the ocean waves as the candle ignites and is placed. Azeroth turns back into the circle, gives Cloud a brotherly wink and replaces his hood, to await...

Owl turns to the North and calls softly...

"Merry Meet, Guardian of the North Watchtower... Element of Earth, Come join us now at full moon bright, to play with shadows of the night, and feel the welcome space between our world and yours 'fore Halloween."

Owls arms raise wide and seem to stretch the width of the dark shadow of horizon against the vast night sky. As she turns back to circle, "So Mote It Be" carries softly on the still air. With a warm grin to all, Owl waits...

...Targe stands before the alter. Dressed in the kilt of his fore fathers. Soft knee high leather fur lined boots on his feet. A tartan plaid flows from his waist to his left shoulder, held in place by a knot work broach. Spiraling patterns of woad cover his face and chest, drawn in the designs of the Picts of old. He turns to his lady love, embraces her deeply and thanks the Lord and Lady for bring someone so special in to his life.

Pala stands with arms upheld, palms up, ready to receive the power of the Goddess. Targe draws his dirk form his belt, and raises his arms toward the full moon...

"Ceud Mile Faite, Sona Oidhche Shamna. Mormhathair Ceilidh Tha Oidhche. Great Goddess of many names, Mother of us all. Join with my life mate this beautiful eve."

As Targe looks at his lady she is bathed in a pure blue-white light, and he knows the Goddess has joined them this night. He looks deep into his Ladies eyes " Gu brath, a' Ghraidh."

Pala stands before the alter. Dressed in a long flowing blue skirt, her shirt is of white linen with long flowing sleeves, in her hair is a braid with three feathers, on her side in a Swede pooch containing special stones given to her by her love. At her feet is a basket of purple Scottish thistle. She turns now to her mate, and cradles his face in her hands and stares in wonderment at her husband, as eternal love stirs in her heart. Targe now holds his hands upward, the moon reflecting in his eyes ready to receive the power of the God. Pala raises her hands upward clasping a thistle in one hand and a feather in the other,

"God of the sun, the forest and by many names of old, join this eve with thy mate."

Pala now observes the glowing light, catches in her eye the flickering of the flames of the nearby fire and knows the God has to joined them this evening. With one more stroke of her hand upon Targe's face she whispers, "I love you..."

...Love and laughter, warm breezes and ocean waves, shadows and abiding love, all meet in sacred space. We stand ready, and the energy swirls around and through us, holding this circle we can practically see. Indeed we are between the worlds this night, in a place that is no place and all places, no time and all time. We breathe the circle; it is us, and it is cast.

Cloud takes her time building a fire between the small side table where those who wish can lay offerings and the South point, gathering thoughts and feelings with the tinder and kindling. When it is burning well, she stands and looks each of us in the eye, and, finally, speaks:

"Brothers and sisters, we come together again in this amazing place the world has grown the chance of for us. Whatever we may feel about other works of humankind in this world, this one is truly wondrous. We have the continual task of maintaining this fellowship, but it is possible at all because of minds and machines that created the potential. As it is with this circle, so it is with our lives and works. We are who we are because we build on foundations built before us. In Bernice Reagons words, 'We honor those who provide the ground we stand on. We are here today because of something someone did before we came.' I invite you, before we begin our petitions, to take a moment to honor those who provide the ground YOU stand on. They may be your physical relatives, friends or teachers, living or departed, or perhaps people you never met whose teachings or writings helped form your development."

"How you choose to honor your 'ancestors' here is up to you. Memory and thanks would probably be enough, but there are extra candles on the altar, a side table if you wish to offer food, the altar or the fire for offerings of other kinds. Please feel free to create your own forms, since it is a form of honoring your beginnings to create uniquely now".

Cloud turns to the altar in reflection, as we begin to sift through our memories... and in a moment, she speaks again.

*Mother and Father, you know how many paths have crossed mine, and how much my growth has been fed. Please smile on the souls I don't mention; they are many, and some of them are in this circle.* After a few well-placed winks, she continues: *I honor the spirits of Edith Hamilton, who gave me the Greeks, and Joseph Campbell, who gave me the world.* Cloud pours a libation of pomegranate juice for the mythologists. *I honor the spirit of Loren Eiseley, for reasons known to all who have read his work, and the rest of you can go to the library right after ritual*. She places a perfect starfish on the altar. *I honor the spirit of my grandmother Mildred, who gave me green and showed me Grace*. For reasons that must be theirs alone, a small plate of homegrown tomatoes WITH sugar on them goes on the side table, along with a large bowl of popcorn for the spirit of John P. McClimans. The popcorn immediately begins to mysteriously disappear.

Cloud pours another libation, this one of whiskey, to honor the spirit of another absent friend. She places a pile of her own recent writings on the altar in tribute to the living influence of Sam, best critic and longtime pal who made good, and looks around to see who may wish to go next...

Targe stands before the alter and ponders. His life has been helped by so many, some in this circle. He walks to the offering table and places a flask of scotch and a bouquet of Scottish heather on it. He raises his eyes towards the sky and speaks,

"Old ones of my clan... CEUD MILE FAILTE DHUIBH. I stand here this night to honor you. FIOR ALBANNACH."

"Willam my teacher and friend, you have been with me through time. You showed me the power of my mind. You taught me that a warrior doesn't always have to carry a sword, that his mind, his heart and his deeds make him who and what he is. Even times when I would charge head first into things, you where there to dust me off and asked if I learned anything. When I won a battle, you would not let me gloat on it, but start me on my next task to learn. You my friend I owe much too, more than I can ever repay. But on this night, I honor you and your memory." Targe bows his head and says a silent thank you to Willam. After a moment he speaks again. "Old ones of my clan, the woad and kilt I wear this night are in your honor. You have instilled in me the pride and the honor to wear it. The pride of being a Scot, the honor of calling myself your clansman. It gives me great joy to help others find their clan. To let them see what stout hearts beat in the breast of a highlander. In this time of year, when the veil is thin, join in our feast and be with us this night."

Targe pulls his dirk from his belt, raises it to the sky and roars out his clans cry. Almost in the same instant, the skirl of the pipes can be heard and a host of voices answering back, "CAIN NA CUIMHNE". Targe takes his place by his ladies side, and waits for the next...

...Azeroth stepping into the circle and laying a hand tied fly and a timeslip on the table.

"I would like to remember and thank my father and Grand father for giving me the spirit of the outdoors for and for teaching me the ways of the animals, the fish and the bird, and for showing me the many wondrous things that can be done by hand, tool, and insight. And to thank PA and Meli for showing me the options of the path." Silently, he ponders it's course as he steps back to his original place to wait...

...Palastien pictures in her mind her great grandmother and her grandfather. Her great grandmother's is her pen name, Palastien, she was Iroquois Indian.

"She was treated badly because of her blood, her son my grandfather John, walked with head bowed in shame of his heritage, they have both gone on, but I am here and say now is the time to hold your head up and be proud, I am your granddaughter and I represent you now, and never will we feel shame again. The Indians where a proud people and are a proud people and I am so very proud great grandmother to have your Indian blood. My head is held high this night for you."

In offering to her ancestors Palastien places corn meal cakes upon the table, a beaded necklace of innocent beauty. Palastien steps back into the circle clasping the hand of her warrior and watches for....

...Owl steps forward and places a tussy of herbs with a yellow rose bud in the center upon the altar. The meanings behind the herb lore tell a story of those whom she remembers at this time, the yellow rose for her mother. A bouquet of ancestral memories lie there on the altar, some textures are prickly and sharp, others soft and caressing. Some scents are sweet and comforting, others harsh and spicy, and some make you wrinkle your nose in annoyance. Yet all are woven into this small bouquet, and the blend is pleasing.

"On this night I honor all who have gone before, those who have helped and nurtured, and those who have created havoc, and hurt. Each has taught me something. How to be who I am, and how to strive for who I would be. Not all have been kind, yet all have added to the flavor of my life. So at this time, I honor all and ask that the God and Goddess hold each within their hearts, the good and the bad, the kind and the cruel, the well remembered and those whom we try to forget, for the light and the dark reside in each of us. Blessed Be..."

...Elenya steps forward and approaches the altar. She places upon it a single stem, that of a spear thistle taken from near the campsite from this summer's gathering. The thorny stem she will soon use to make a wand, but now it honors the spirit of Annie Leigh, the matriarch of her father's clan. Like the thistle, Annie's presence strengthened and energized those around her. She raised seven children and rocked countless grandchildren and great-grandchildren upon her knee, telling them stories of the Isle from whence she came, and carrying on the family traditions in a place far away from her home. Her wrinkled lips also sounded out the old songs and she kept tune by tapping her toes in time to the squeaking of the rocking chair. The chair is now silent, and the time and place are not the same. But Elenya is grateful for the memories and the strength her grandmother provided, and will carry on...

...after his wife, Red Deer steps forward. Other than amber and pentagram, he bears only a tiny wooden box. Approaching the fire, he stops before the flames, gently opens the box, and stands quietly - remembering. Removing a tear of myrrh impregnated with african violet, he offers it to the flame.

"Grandmama, mother of my mother. From you I learned not to fear being different. Not to shrink from unpopular beliefs. And to always have faith in myself. I thank you for many gifts - of spirit, of knowledge and of the world. And I thank you for the stories we shared during your final years, of nursing and caring." Deer allows the incense to fall, and inhales the pungent scent from its single puff of smoke.

Next, he removes a piece of dragons blood. Holding it above the flame, Deer drones, "Mama, you who bore and raised me. From you I learned that I am special, as indeed is all the world. To care, even when caring brings me to the edge of my being. And to believe, even though belief is painful. Thank you for the world you have given me." As the dragon's blood falls into the flame, a single wisp of almost red smoke rises skyward.

Thirdly, a crystal piece of pine rosin Deer holds above the dancing flames. "Elisabeth. EJ. Servant of my mother who raised me as your own. From you I learned of the strength to survive in a world which denigrates you. Not only to survive, but to flourish - in grace, in love and in peace. And to recognize that in service there is no dishonor. You taught me to search for connections, to see the sunrise mirrored in the opening of morning glories, and the universal night in the changing moon. Thank you for the ability to see others as they see themselves, and myself as others see me." Releasing the rosin, Deer blinks back tears at the acrid scent it releases into the night.

"Three mothers, three women, each having shaped my life and my perception. I praise and thank you each before my Lord and Lady, and those here gathered."

Finally, Deer removes a crystalline chunk of amber resin from the box. He warms it long in his hands, as though searching for words he's never found, before holding it over the flames.

"Daddy. Father who may or not have been. I shall never know what you believed of my parentage. But I know that you always called me son. That your eyes always sparkled when you spoke of me. So much hurt passed between us before we came to know one another as men. I ask that you forgive my part in that, as I have long forgiven yours. I shall never forget the lessons I learned from you - both in how, and how not, to approach the vagaries of life. Thank you for calling me son." Deer releases the amber to its fiery doom, and again blinks back tears, although this time at the bittersweet smells of love and memory.

Red Deer returns to his beloved's side, and waits as...

...MAMA walks to the altar. This is a first for her and she is trembling. She places her italian cheesecake as an offering.

"Though I know not much of the Wiccan way, I come to thank Theresa, sister of my mother. She taught me that mothers are not always right. She taught me that I am a person, to be respected by all. She taught me that it is OK not to be perfect. She taught me so much about life, too much to convey here. Thank you Zia for helping to mold me into the woman I am today. I also wish to thank my God and the God and Goddess for sending Targe and Palastien into my life. They are the best friends I have and have taught me so much about this religion called Wicca. They continue to show me how to follow a path of my own, how to seek the truth, I LOVE YOU BOTH WITH ALL MY HEART."

MAMA steps back and waits with tears in her eyes...

...DesertFox approaches the altar with a single pumpkin in his hands. He passes it through the four elements of earth, air, fire, and water before placing it on the altar. As this is the full moon before the most sacred holiday of Samhain, he (and everyone else) knows that soon we will prepare for that most holy of days. DesertFox has gone through many trials these past few weeks, and has prevailed. He kneels before the altar, and raises each arm outstretched- -in thanks for the guidance of the Gods and Goddesses of the Ancient Celtic world for being with him- -every step of the way. A few minutes later, he says:

"Great ones of my ancestry, I come before you tonight as your humble servant. As I have struggled, I also know you have always been with me, and have guided me this far. Please be with me always, now and as I return to the daily affairs of life. So Mote It Be"

A few silent minutes later, he returns to his place in the circle of the faithful who have gathered for this sacred rite...

...Norda steps forward and lays down a small hand mirror amongst the other offerings.

"Mary Brand McConkey, I wear your face and your hair, I carry the gifts of your singing voice and some of your dreams. Grandmother, I miss you and honor you."

She pulls three long pieces of yarn from her belt pouch - sky blue, deep red, hunter green. Using her finger as a spindle, she begins to crochet them in a loose weave to catch the wind and the moonlight. "This night I honor those who have laid the ground where I now stand. I honor my three Richards --- Feynman, Bach, and Thompson. I honor Reynolds, who taught an iron gargoyle to weep, I honor Martha, who taught me laughter. I honor Stephen Hawking and Padraic Colum, who showed me other worlds. I honor my brother John, who trained me well in my calling as Keeper of the Nifty. I honor Joanna Marie Sodomora, who gave beauty, sought beauty, and lived beauty. And I honor the three men whose names I have chosen for mine; I am proud to bear them, and to be Norda Maranda Coy."

Norda lays her weaving next to the hand mirror and puts three small scraps of paper down as well. The first bears the date 1979 and reads "Canta, no llores." The second has a blurred date and reads simply, "Don't despair. Keep writing." The third is dated 1986 and bears six words, two of which are scatological, the final two words being "Try again." Norda grins widely as she lays down that last note, and moves back to take her place in the circle...

And Bronwyn steps to the offering table. In her hand is a small glass filled with tiny seeds. Passing her right hand over the glass three times, she murmurs a silent blessing, then says,

"Grandmothers of my grandmothers, I pay you honor on this holy night, and thank you for your lineage of strength, courage, and creativity. May I walk proudly in your footsteps. Anna, my children would have loved to know you--they talk about you as if they truly did. Beulah, who died when my father was a child, I wish I could have known you. Your picture could be of me, we look so alike. I know you were a strong and sure mother. Blessed Be."

Bronwyn lays the seeds of her garden on the table and returns...

...Cloud stirs up a flurry of sparks from the fire, adding their sparkle to the moonlit glow on our faces, echoing the fires we glimpse on distant hills. We sense the presence of those we have recalled by love, memory and gratitude, almost as if there was another circle surrounding our own, and surrounding that the life of this place - squirrels, oaks, thyme, mice AND owls, the lovely sacred moss - such an enormity of life we are meshed in, circles in circles, our energy swirling, augmented by that coming in from the surrounding circles and the Earth herself. The power almost hums around and through the concentric universes we inhabit, up through the earth, in from all that forms us, out from our gratitude to the future we form. Some being gives voice to the hum of power, some being joins the sound, and other voices twine into a strand of sound that webs us to all time, all places, all change, all love, until the chant fills the Grove and echoes to infinity. Someone has found words, and our feet can finally resist the urge to move no longer, though we keep it slow and steady as the growth of trees, for the time of release is not yet:

*We are a circle, within a circle, with no beginning and neverending*, circling through all possible blends and harmonies, our voices with those of all the beings here with us, encompassing all time and countless lives. May each of us in our own way and time grow to be to others as those we honor tonight have been to us. In honoring our ancestors, we honor ourselves and our potential."

As the circling slows, we know the moment is at hand to focus on the present. The time has come for petitions...

...Flidais moves forward from the circle. She lays a long bundle on the table and takes a small bottle and wooden cup from her robe. Setting the cup on the table she pours a small amount of moonshine in it before placing the bottle back in her pocket. "Not as good as you used to make I'm sure granddaddy, but yours to enjoy none the less." pulling back the wrap of the bundle she picks up a beautiful old fiddle of a rich brown and the matching bow. "Granddaddy I honor you and thank you for all you taught my momma that she in turn taught me. I have your fiddle that you played so well, finally come to hands that will love and cherish it. I thank you for the skill that has come to me through you, that allows me to do justice to such a wonderful instrument. I ask that you help guide me as I put away my violin to take up your fiddle and play the music our family has always played. I give you this gift also from momma, who says it was the song you played special for her." Raising the fiddle to her chin Flidais begins to play and the soft strains of "redwing" can be heard drifting through the trees. With a smile of love and eyes full of memory she places the fiddle again within the bundle and carries it close to her heart as she returns to her place in circle to wait...

...Arcadia leaves the shadows and stops before the altar. A small opal slips from her fingers, to nestle in amongst the other gifts of love brought by those before her. She pauses momentarily, feeling the energy, so vibrant, flowing around and through her.

"Grandmother, I thank you for the honor of carrying on your name. And even in pain and agony, from a disease eating away at your sacred life, you awaited my birth. You predicted my entrance into this world, you asked that your name be given to me, for you knew my sex, and you asked the Crone to be patient awhile longer, and laid with me, on the bed beside you for you were too weak to hold me, even though I were but three weeks old. But Grandmother, even though you passed from this world, you have never left me. Guiding, protecting, loving, you have been with me always. And for this, I pay tribute to you! I know, that even now, a smile has found that beautiful face, and your heart sings. Thank you, most dearest, precious Lady, for her!"

Arcadia's hand raises to her eye, to wipe away a single tear that has unexpectedly traced it's way down her cheek. She sighs, and smiles, and returns to her place in the circle...

...Targe strides towards the alter. He places a heather scented candle on the alter and lights it. Lifting his eyes towards the full moon he speaks. "Lord and Lady, I stand before you this night to thank you. You have brought to my life, one that I love more than my own life. You have brought me two fine daughters and a fine granddaughter. You have opened my mind to the wonders that make up our world. And thanks to this wondrous *new* web I have found many new friends. Once more I say thank you. So Mote It Be."

Targe takes his place and waits...

...Pala walks to the alter and places upon it a small pouch. The pouch was made for her by her husband and contains small mementos of her past and hopes for her future. These past two years have been turbulent one's but yet she resolves her self to the fact they have been learning years. She thanks the Goddess and the God, for watching over those she loves and for granting her in this life time as before the love of her mate. She thinks of her children and her grandchild and knows she has riches beyond measure. Her new found friends (she thinks of them with a smile, the AMOKs) of given her so much joy and she is thankful to know them. Jo and Ken have also brought them much joy and comfort in troubled times, yes Pala's heart nearly sings for she has so much to be thankful for. With a smile and a tear she steps back into the circle...

...Red Deer again returns to center. For an eternity caught within the moment, he stares into the fire dancing there, before speaking.

"Mama and Papa, another year draws to a close... Samhain is nigh, and shall be an eve of exceptional power as the moon grows dark. That night, when I shall walk with great purpose between the worlds, I ask that You guide me in search of a spirit lost that I may return renewed." From the same small box, Deer removes a clear chunk of metasequoia resin and touches it to the amber about his neck, before consigning it to the flames. As the sweet smell of an even more primeval forest fills the circle. Deer turns to the altar with its brightly glowing candles and many gifts. "Tonight, I ask that You speed my brother's recovery from his ills. You have seen him through surgery, now grant full healing to his body."

After another long moment of silence, Deer returns to Elenya's side to await...

...Seemingly lost in thought, Norda moves to the center of the circle. She puts a sprig of mountain ash with a small spray of berries on it on the altar. Looking up at her old friend Moon, she makes her petition silently and resumes her place among friends...

...Cloud comes forward, carrying a different, somewhat older basket filled with white candles, which she places on the altar. She looks around for a moment at all of our moonglowed faces, in this place which constantly changes and forever remains, and then says, *Brothers and sisters, I forgot some important ancestors earlier: the Founding Mothers of the Ancient FMR Tradition!* She grins broadly and continues: *In honor of Goldenwoulf, Terri, Dalen, Breck and Webb, without whose vision of online community we might not be here tonight, and because in my own life and the lives of several here it is a very relevant petition, I would like to repeat a ritual element from times gone by.* She stretches forth her hands above the sacred fire, and with her eyes on the Moons face speaks again:

*Limitless Light of a thousand generations, Whom we honor in the Moon, Shine bright blessings on all who have accepted Your call to serve as teachers and guides. Remind us that we are Your channels, and teach us to hear. Remind us that we are Your lamps, and teach us to see. Because only through our own learning can we truly teach, remind us that we have a lot to learn. Grant us clarity in organizing our thoughts, gentleness in choosing our words, and the wisdom to know the times when the teaching needed is not ours but Yours - and in those times to keep silent. Above all, may we be mindful that we are nothing our students may not become, according to their Will and Yours. May we wish them to be more.*

She gets the basket of candles from the altar, and raises it to the moonlight: *I charge these candles with Your light of clarity, with the strength that brings beauty, the compassion that allows power, and the humility that is honor, according to free will and for the good of all. SO MOTE IT BE.*

Before resuming her place, Cloud carries the basket around the circle. There are enough candles that everyone who wishes can take the blessing home. She steps back to see who else may wish to speak...

...Elenya now moves to the center of the circle, her steps slow and heavy. She turns to look upon the faces of her friends gathered here and thinks back upon all she has learned from them. As the moon shines brightly upon her face, Elenya whispers a quiet prayer to the Lord and Lady, asking them to guide her along the path she now faces.

She turns to face the others, and with tears on her cheeks and sadness in her heart she bids them farewell, for a while, as the next step upon her journey she must face alone. She looks forward to the day when she will once again return to the circle of friends, and holding this thought close to her heart, Elenya steps to the altar and places there a branch of fragrant Rosemary for remembrance, then slowly steps back to await...

...Cloud takes a hand on either side, and so it goes around the circle. (Is it the hand of a living friend we take, or of some being in that *other* circle? Does it matter? There are times and places in the world where a space would be left between each of us for one of our beloved others; perhaps this is so, here and now.)

Some being starts a drumbeat, somewhere, and we begin to move. Perhaps there are voices, perhaps they find words, perhaps we each hear our own music, but we do move, walking, then dancing, maybe flying at times, around and then in, spiraling to the center and back out again, breathing the universe, heart pounding the beat, in out around and around until the built-up power *GOES* in a rush of sparks up the center that blends with the moonlight and carries our hopes, our dreams, our wishes, our tears, our pride, our gratitude - up to the moon, out to the world of our waking lives, away to the stars.

As we sit - or sprawl - on the ground catching our breath, there is a rustle around us as the old ones take their leave. We keep our memories, but bid them hail and farewell, and the rustling blends to the nightsounds of the forest as the life around us resumes its course. The bonfires on the hills around us are dimming, as is ours, and it is time to take our leave as well.

Cloud moves to the North, West, South and East, thanking the guardians, and slowly we come back to waking time until finally she stands before Targe and Pala, kissing them each on the forehead as she thanks the Goddess and God for their presence among us this night. We are on our feet again when she joins our ring, again taking hands, and says:

*The circle is open, but unbroken.
The rite is ended, but never ends.
Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again.*

*SO MOTE IT BE*, we all say, as with hugs and a little carrying on we set about dowsing the fire and gathering our belongings for the trek back to good food and fellowship in the warm hall. Cloud gathers up the last of the paraphernalia and follows us down the trail.

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Posting Date: 27 October 1997