FULL MOON RITUAL June 1998

One River stomped her little witchy feet, kicking a rock before her and shaking angry fists in front of her while whirling almost like a dervish until she finally collapsed in exhaustion and frustration. With a loud "hmmmpppff" she sat down on the large carpet bag she had retrieved from the Candle Inn; she sat lips clinched in consternation, thumping her fingers along the ridge of her chin... and then a slow, rolling laugh rose from deep in her belly and sobs of laughter and shivers of absurdity shook her - sitting "alone"... in the middle of a crossroad, on the night of the Full Moon Ritual... which SHE was to "setup", and the best her inner voice could summons was "... well,isn't THIS another FINE *mess* you've gotten us into"...

One stood and raised her face to the sky in exasperation, yelling, "even Laurel and Hardy would have brought the KEY!!... NO ONE TOLD ME THERE WAS A *KEY*!!!"

Always when River had attended the ritual, the Castle was already set up. She was sure this was the "spot", but not sure how to gain entry.

River had wanted to bring a few things from the Candle for tonight's ceremony, but had taken an infortuitous "short-cut" through her trunk in the rafters. Moss had overgrown the huge beams that comprised the intricate web of Rafter World, and she had acquired a rather copious wig of sorts from the long strands of lichen that had attached themselves to her head as she drew herself up into her old home. Bearing this silvery mane of mossy waves, she might have resembled a respected member of the English Parliament, except the trail fell nearly to her feet, and seemed to be weaving itself into a cloak or at least a very charming shawl.

One had bent over the old steamer trunk in the rafters, reaching into its infinite recesses to retrieve the carpet-bag in which to carry her treasures, but the creeping tendrils of her new "do" had covered her eyes and caused her to trip; she tumbled downward for which seemed an eternity. As everyone knows, the trunk became an "open" door to the otherside and without proper preparation was a veritable game of Roulette as to where one might land.

When One River finally found her feet, she crept onto the boggy shore of an estuary. In her travels, layers of Dulse had wrapped their blood-red fronds about her waist, and a string of black clams bound in the seaweed dangled in a circlet from her neck. As she took her first step she sunk into the ooze that barely held the line between water and earth. One managed, with some difficulty, to extricate her foot and scrambled onto a large rock before stepping again into the quagmire. In the warm summer air, the mud on her foot quickly dried into an earthen shoe of sorts; the lovely white gown she had chosen for the Ritual was now torn and tattered, yet shown brightly from beneath the various Earth adornments that had claimed her as home. She also realized that somehow she had grabbed the rich burgundy bag on her way through the trunk and that it sat next to her no worse for the wear.

To soothe her frazzled nerves, she was quite late after all, she sat on the rock... rocking... and then chanting... I am the Weaver... weaving... weaving... I am the River... flowing..flowing... I am the Weaver... weaving... weaving... I am the River... flowing... flowing...

The sound seemed to radiate from itself in concentric circles that moved her upward until she found herself emerging from the waters of the Reflection Pond near the Inn. She quickly made her way to the crossroads, certain that THIS was the location of the Castle... But... No castle!

After a brief tantrum, it dawned on One River... hmmm... CROSSROADS... Full Moon... if this is the spot where the Castle usually stands... the others will surely come... I will simply prepare the cirlce... and then maybe CLOUD will have the key with her...

Having drained away much of her frustration with laughter and tears... having left the world behind her in her strange odyssey... River stood and opened her bag. This bag of course was an extension of her trunk in the rafters, a bottomless bounty of potential. As she reached in she discarded this and that... hmmm... tuba... no... spider's underlooms... no... ah... "here," my besom... she pulled it out and stood it upright beside her, then peered down into the cavernous realms of possiblity the bag afforded... Great... it was all here... she should have known... she always kept a bag packed for that special night!

She began sweeping in widdershins motion to banish that which might impede the evening's promise, and as she moved she seemed to sweep away the last hint of daylight, and Dark proceeded into the space she had prepared. The Bright Lady mounted the night and draped her light over the black expanse of sky, softening the vision of eyes that only see that which is "without". A great ocean of clouds rhythmically addressed her broad face and as they washed across the sky formed the great valley of night.

So absorbed she was in her movement, River did not see the walls of the Castle rise up around her; she did not realize the grove ancient trees now bound her work, and that the cobbles beneath her had turned to a soft carpet of ritual space, buffered and stolen from the cares and demands of everyday life.

River started for her bag to search out a few herbs and verily crashed into the great altar Stone that graced the ritual halls... inner light brought understanding. The Key to the Castle was Release... no Grail mystery this... simply an awareness to center and be present.

With moss embracing her shoulders she hobbled around on her foot of clay, laying a circle of sage and lavender. At each stone of the quarter points she laid a single white candle, hoping each that called would light this from the larger one she had lit on the Altar Stone. Upon this she had also placed boughs of white peony, bundles of mugwort and tiny, mirrored circles to reflect the Mother's light. One draped vines of Moonflower along the lower limbs of the surrounding trees and at the cross quarter points hung billowing sheets of white.

She moved to the North, extending her right arm, then hand, then power finger as far as each might stretch, then stated as she walked:

"This is a time that is not a time, a place that is not a place, where each might forget what they know and receive what they might dream... moving around the circle she envisioned a stream of purest blue forming a signature of power about the space to define the realm within. One returned to the altar and rounded the circle again sprinkling a mixture of salt and water she had prepared at the altar, and then round again with the butterfly vase in which burned an incense of lemon balm. She stepped to the altar again, taking a small bell and sounded a single chime in each of the four directions, and then a last time returned to the altar to gather a basket of white roses and a tiny vial of oil... she placed these on the pentacle, blessing them and then made her way around the circle, squarely facing each who had gathered... then drew a pentagram on their forehead with oil of cedar and laid a rose at each one's feet.

The circle bound... she found her place and waited for...

...Morrigan. As her green-cloaked figure stepped forward she pulled back her hood to reveal a welcoming smile framed in a cloud of golden curls. Her eyes met those of each who had gathered here then, she picked up the small white candle from it's point stone, and walked to the altar to bend it's little wick to the larger flame that stood there. Returning to the North point, she dribbled a spot of wax on the stone and placed the candle upon it. With her arms spread wide, she reached out for the spirit of the North saying:

"Earth! Earth! I call on you Earth! Be with us tonight, envelop us in your power, enfold us with your strength. Hold us... hold us."

She stood silent for a moment, feeling the coolness of the dirt beneath her bare feet, breathing in the damp mossy air... then turned and took her place in the circle to wait as...

...Nymue' steps forward, encompassed in a gossamer robe. Upon her shoulder is perched a hawk, with eyes as knowing as the ages. She stands for a moment enveloped in the moon's magickal glow, thinking silently to herself of the wonders of the past year, the trials and triumphs, the loses and the growth, the lose of a beloved parent and the lifelong binding to her dearest friend and love, Gandolf. As she pushes the hood back from her hair a stray daisy falls from the red curls.

She looks lovingly about her at all gathered and chuckles silently to herself at her sister River, thinking "Dear Sister, even in disarray from your hasty journey with traces of moss fluttering on your gown, you STILL manage to look regal." The love and trust of those gathered here can be felt so strongly in the air, the premonition of things to come heightens her senses.

She approaches the altar set out by River and on it lays a garland of star jasmine, it's flowers as white as the Lady's light.

Taking a moment to savor the gentleness of the night air, the softness of the velvety grass beneath her bare feet, the distant echoes of a flowing brook, and the warmth of the fire, she slowly twirls and faces the East. Lighting the white candle she calls:

"Hail Watchtower of the East... Guardians of Air, gentle sprites and airy sylphs, We greet you now in perfect love and perfect trust. Powers of Air! We do summon, stir, and call you up to witness our rites and to guard the Circle. We invoke you and call you to caress us with your breezes, guide us with your gales. By the air that is Her breath, Send forth your light With your gentle and powerful ways We ask you to protect this circle. We bless the elements of air, and gather here to honor the fullness of the moon . Goddess, Hear my words!"

As she raises her hand, and makes an ancient sign overhead, the hawk resting on her shoulder takes to the air. As he soars, circling those gathered, a gradual breeze appears. The higher the majestic bird rises the more powerful the wind becomes.

He spirals higher amongst the clouds, giving the illusion of a stirring cauldron.

Nymue lowers her arm as the bird returns and the wind settles into a gentle caress.

"So mote it be!"

Nymue' turns back to the faces of the circle, while the Guardians of Air, Watchtower of the East... stand sentinel.

Nymue' returns to her position within this circle of love and trust... and awaits...

...Norda, who comes bustling forthwith, copper gown copiously bedizened with white cat hair at the hemline, her waist-length copper chain jewelry providing its own music as it clatters against her large sun belt buckle, her grey-brown hair released for this night and unrulily flapping over her shoulders in her haste to join the others in this Circle. She smiles ruefully in apology to those she has kept waiting, and takes her place at the Southern point. Reaching into her red velvet belt pouch, Norda takes one of the red berry candles Elenya sent her at Samhain and lights it from one of the stone altar's lights. Restoring her dignity after her headlong dashing, she speaks:

"Upon this night we welcome you, Guardians of the South, Forces of Fire and Flame Energy Spark Candle-lit gentility and wildfire raging Star-born and eternal Gift of warmth Changer of landscapes and sustainer of life Be with us in our Circle... Fire, be with us NOW!"

Norda holds her candle high and steps back into the Circle to await...

...With an understandable confusion over the methodology of the ritual at hand, Erendil steps into the circle. Cloaked in black, his face masked with Ravens' feathers, he circumambulates the altar. Pausing in the north he raises his hands to invoke the Lord:

"Lord of death, Lord of Life, You who are the portal between the Veil, you who are the Hound of the Crone, You who were the Hunter when the sun increased, You who will be the Hunted now that the sun wanes, You who will be the Sacrificial Lord to come, join us, enlighten us, instruct us. Make easy our path."

Lifting a censor made from a human skull, emblematic of the Sacrificial Lord of yesteryears, he places incense of Juniper, Oak leaf, and Sage. Symbolic of preservation, wisdom achieved through sacrifice, and prophetic sight. He circumambulates once more pausing at each person, smudging them with incense billowing from the upturned skull. Once again at the North, he places the skull down upon the altar, and raises his hands in benediction, saying:

"Let us look back upon our past, the glories and tragedies no longer, Let us look to the future, to deeds of honor not yet done. Let us remember the peace promised us all, when we pass through the Veil, and without rancor accept the past as having been, and may we have the wisdom to move on." Folding his arms across his chest, Erendil steps back a step and stands in silence...

...Sometimes we are moved by deepest sorrow, sometimes by joy, sometimes by need and sometimes we are just moved as the Goddess might call. One River believed there are no mistakes in this Universe, and only for a moment did she question Valk not attending the West, Knowing the full life this young woman had created for herself from some very difficult beginnings, she knew it was only that Valk had been required elsewhere, the timing had not been right. However while the Lord and Lady might laugh a bit at circle mishaps, River would never risk offending one of the Quarters. By nature they are a peevish lot, powerful and giving, but forgiving usually *NOT*, as many can attest to with stories of a maltreated Element.

Actually, even as she wondered about the disorder for the ritual, she almost immediately realized that things do happen as they are supposed to. River stepped from her place near the altar and reached deep into the caverns of the carpetbag, careful not to lean too much forward or linger too long. She pulled out the single item she had most wanted to bring with her for tonight, a large silver basin that had been hammered into the shape of a vessel many moons ago. River had placed the large sheet of silver over a rounded stone that formed almost a perfect sphere and hammered as the Lady's light gently stroked her weary shoulders. She could still hear the ringing of stone striking metal, as a smaller stone had served as her tool of transformation. She had softened the silver over her campfire that also managed to stave off a bit of the winter's chill. Again and again she pounded until her hands ached and just the right shape had been achieved. The inner surface of the bowl had been lined with onyx, the bowl a treasure of womb and beginnings as well as a vessel to relieve thrist as she dipped it into the streams and rivers of her otherworld journeys; the thirst quenched not always by a simple drink of water, and sometimes simply a drink of water.

With the bowl in hand, she moved to the West quarter and stood for a moment, just avoiding a stumble as her ill-shapened foot caught on the quarter stone. She placed the bowl on the stone then took the white candle she had laid out before and lit it from the larger one at the altar. Returning to the quarter she drew an invoking cup in the air with the candle as she stated: "that flows through her and flows in me... from beginning to ending... into places I dare not approach... oh ye of her endless river be with us now...

In answer the silver dish filled from the bottom up as a soft gentle mist also fell down into the bowl's reservoir like an open mouth receiving a kiss. River placed the candle at the quarter. The large bowl she placed on the pentacle on the altar then paused for a time to center. She set a drumbeat in her mind that matched the Mother's heart and began to sway forward and back while a shallow undulation of her body repeated the rhythm for moments that were not moments until she was prepared...

She who was so full of written words... in her own ritual usually did this portion of her ceremonies in silence - visualizing and calling in a voice beyond physical sound... seeing words... feeling words... smelling words... images of time and journey that rode in the genes of her current incarnation... but that bore no sound passing her lips... had no configuration of tongue against teeth... not even a moan or hiss of air exhaling... though thirteen breaths, in and out stepped the world of ritual beyond the boundary her physical body demanded, no sound issued forth... or none that she was aware... turning to the North, One River raised her hands palms upward toward the Moon... she could feel the pressure against her skin as she separated the molecules of space between her body and her outstretched arms... and opened her whole being to the gentle penetrating rays of the Mother's bounteous light... as if her own being was a great fissure in time and space that revealed itself with the fruits of mortality as an offering of aliveness.

"White Lady...be with us now..."

Though River had approached the ritual, a muddy, clumsy figure she now stood almost incandescent, her white gown softly laying against her skin, moving with her in unison to the altar...

River grasped the silver bowl firmly in her hands and raised it to the Shining Orb above that seemed to completely encompass the ritual space...generations seem to pass before her and behind... she could feel the roots of the great trees in the Grove tremble beneath her feet... the mirrors upon the altar seem to sing with light... as River drew the Moon into the water in the basin... silence swept through the Castle like a unbridled Mare through an open canyon... shattering the stillness with greater stillness so intense in motion that nothing moved or changed as the space was interrupted... and then River stated:

"It is done".

Starting in the North... she moved around the circle, herself now a vessel, offering her hand as a cup... dipping it into the moon-charged water... allowing each who had gathered long soothing drink.

She then returned to her place in the circle to allow each to approach the altar as their need called...

...Cloud arrives at last, her green-brown robe slightly damp from the long-awaited rain that is *FINALLY* falling on her home. In token of deep appreciation she pauses at the West quadrant and leaves an offering of three rescued strawberries before she reveals that the basket she bears in her purple-stained fingers in full of sweet, ripe mulberries to share. And she does that, swirling around the circle to offer a hug, and a delicious taste of the wild, to all who will. THIS, she wants us to know, is the gift of new summer - all things not tended, not planted by us and not in the least subject to our efforts to encourage them, that give of them- selves such richness just for the picking and thanking; all the burgeoning life that doesn't bend to our calendar and arises just in time to feed us while we wait for the things we sowed to bear fruit. Unasked-for blessings, there for all attentive enough to notice them. Thinking of dandelions, wild greens, and cabbages that decide for themselves to winter over, she places the remaining (FEW) berries on the altar, bestows an extra hug on One River, and returns to her place to await...

...as Norda moves slowly and thoughtfully to the altar, her fingers digging into her ever-present red belt-pouch and pulling forth an even smaller red velvet bag. On its sides are emblazoned the word "Ghirardelli", but further examination reveals it to contain only three sprigs of rosemary tied with a paisley ribbon, and a miniature wreath of woven willow, decorated with wood violets and a single wild rose. She lays all these things upon the altar with a soft sigh, though her eyes and smile are bright. Norda clasps her topaz pendant in one hand and raises it up to Mother Moon; the tiny silver pentacle strung along its chain catches Her silvery light in its arcing motion. She half-whispers, "To present company and absent friends." Then clearing her throat, Norda continues: "Mama, Papa, thank you for guiding me along your bright ways of discovery to stand before you this Moon. Keep me in Your sight as my love and I make this great leap of change and gain even more freedom to be everything we can strive to be. Thank you for the friends we have found here in this Circle and outside it... the ever-widening circles which we are at last learning to open ourselves. In this time of Midsummer, thank you for opening my eyes and teaching me to face growth and change with pleasure rather than fear." Smiling her trademark quirky smile, Norda steps back into the Circle, casting a humorous glance at River as she meaningfully pats the wineskin at her side...

Nymue' approaches the alter stone once more. In her hand she gently holds a feather. After a moment of looking lovingly, and with a bit of trepidation, she places it on the stone. "Blessed Lady, as my youngest daughter now graduates from school, moving from the final phase of childhood, into the steps of womanhood, please guide her in your light. Watch over her when I can not. Comfort her in need, inspire and challenge her to be all she can. I ask this of you. I have given her all I have, now please help me give her the wings to fly, and follow her dreams."

Nymue turns and looks at all gathered here. A tear forms on her cheek and there rests for only a second. She knows that her daughter has the love and support of so many others, and thinks of all the other young ones that have yet to find there way to this circle. Returning to her place she winks at River, knowing the MEAD awaits... hopeing Cloud saved her some mulberries.

A sense of timeless circles exists here, of primitive beginnings and ancient times gone before. A love unending in this night. The circles of the trees, the circles of our lives, the circles yet to be. Those gathered, join hands under the illumination of the night, moving in a spiral as a chant grows...

"Lady spin your circle bright Weave a web of silver light Earth and Air and Fire and Water Shining within. "

...Sensing her dearest sisters exhaustion, Nymue' approaches the altar. She stands at the altar with hands stretched skyward above her head, moving them in a circular motion. She can feel the cone created here this night, and sense its power being drawn through her fingertips, down into her core of being.

"We thank the God and Goddess for their attendance, as we gathered here in our love for them. We offer thanks to all spirits for watching over and guarding this circle. Love is Thy law, and Love is Thy bond." After a moment she kneels, placing palms to the ground, the outside world slowly regaining its dominance, as the power created here tonight is returned to the earth. The circle is no more.

"By the earth that is her body And by the air that is her breath And by the fire of her bright spirit, And by the living waters of her womb, This temple is now cleared, The circle is open, but never shall be broken. So Mote It Be"

and now it's time for meade... as was promised, so I deliver... anybody got any cups or shall we just pass the pouch around?

...Morrigan reaches inside the abyss of her sleeves and retrieves enough cups for all. She hands one to each gathered there... and holds her own out for filling.

...Late, par usuale, a figure shrouded in mist and darkness steps up to the circle in a shimmering silver panne velvet gown with red, black, and white ribbons at her back. She's barefoot, with black and purple feathers in her hair and a moon upon her brow. Wondering how formal the circle is, she cuts a door in the East to preserve ritual space and enters, sheepishly. She approaches the altar, fully centered, with a poem in her hand...

"When people ask me about Shari I say Glitter. I'll always remember her glitter Pots, pens, perfumes filled with the stuff Raspberry-scented, tinted gel filled with Rainbow micro-mini bits of foil Butterflies and sweet things decorating the outside Her purse was always full Two or three colors, types, scents Always the choice And we made fun of that The depths of her bag so cluttered with glitter For sparkling lips And glimmering eyes A dusting across her face A glint or two in her hair And if we had her back I would walk up and say "Sweetheart, you always sparkled in my eyes"

And she says, "Mother, it's hard still, and it will be even more difficult in July, when I see her mother and we will all be gathered without our Shari. It's hard for me to understand why at seventeen her time was up, and at twenty-two I'm just beginning life. She didn't even get to go to Prom, a silly thing to think about, but even this ugly duckling got to go. I know what I'm supposed to think and feel and I know she will be back, and I can reassure myself until I'm blue in the face, but every time I go to say good-bye it never quite works. Look at me... What do I have to offer the world that she didn't? Suicidal thoughts from not so long ago seem like such a joke now. What's so damned scary about life if at any moment it can end?"

"Mom, the last time I called out to you, I was surrounded by hundreds of women, sobbing, and in their arms I felt Yours around me too, but now I am alone and it still hurts. Grant me wisdom and strength to be alone, to live in the "real" world and not surrender myself to settling. Help me remember that love is the center of my life, not money, pride, work, others expectations, or relatives. Guide my steps in the next few weeks - I submit, if not graciously, then willingly, to Your will.

"In return for nine days of doing everything You ask, on time, getting my own life organized, and meditation, I ask that You guide me, answer me, on these two points: Where should I live for the next year or so, and should I take those special vows we've been discussing? Meanwhile, in my usual spoiled state, I also ask that You aid me in sending comfort and healing to Rebecca, Kristen and her family, Shari's family, and Aifric."

"My Mother, my Sister, my Friend, my Lover, my Teacher, my Daughter, my Divinity, my Love, thanks again for Your ever-giving patience of me. Blessed be."

Quietly, the vague figure backs away and sits down in the South to sing, and think, and meditate a while.