Tonight in this clearing, lined by boulders and embraced by lapping waves family and friends will gather. A large granite slab in the center made a perfect altar. Nym' places a large white candle, original lit from Breed's flame in Kildare and a basket of fairie wands made of her freshly blooming lavender on the altar.  Placing a basket of candles for the others to use beside the granite. Nym' takes a moment to honor the spirits here. Nym' had stopped by a local greenhouse and bought several potted daisies, Kelly's favorites,  to plant here as an offering to the Fairies to watch over her little girl, a beautiful young woman on her own but still, and always, a little girl to Nym'. As Nym' planted the flowers she thought of her daughter, a child she herself had had to work so hard to bring into the world in a time that seems like only yesterday.  A woman/child that was now herself having to grieve over the loss of a dream placed on hold. a loss for which Nym' could give her no answers.  As she planted the daisies Nym' thought of her daughter and the beautiful poetry of Yeats;

   "Come away! O, human child!
   To the woods and waters wild,
   With a fairy hand-in-hand,
   For the world's more full of weeping
   Than you can understand."

A Gull landed on the granite with a sprig of lavender in his beak, and Nym' knew. Yes. the Fairies understand.

The laughter in the distance let her know the others had arrived and it was time. With Fern leading the way. they approached. The journey down here had been a familiar one for Nym', St Mary's County had been home for 14 years.  This place had always been a source of power, awe and comfort to her, the rocky beaches, the call of the gulls, the place where two bodies of water met to crash upon the rocks and the all to familiarly haunting lighthouse.

As the stiff sea breeze blew over you with it's cleansing caress. the ocean rushed in to renew your strength.  The strength and calm of this spot could be felt in the granite boulders beneath your feet. This seemed to be a place between the worlds. At the very tip of the peninsula was a spot where the spirits of yesterday readily met those of today.  A spot caught up in the meeting place between land, sea and sky. 

Nym' remember many a full moon here and more sunrises than she could count.  At the edge of the peninsula one could stand in the early morning hours and gaze at the majesty of Luna and the radiance of the rising sun simultaneously.

This was a place of healing for Nym', a place she greatly needed to be right now.  Remembering days spend on these sandy, rock-lined beaches watching the joys of her daughters as they lost themselves in the delight of the bay, their smiles as playful as the seaspray itself. . Now it was so hard to think of the pain in her daughter's eyes when she know the dream of a child of her own had once again slipped her grasp.  Nym' knew in her heart that there where reasons for all and that someday things would be right again, but there was no way to lessen her child's grief.

Point Look Out was a place all to familiar with tears and anger. It was once the site of the largest Union prison. 52,000 Confederate unfortunates at one time or another, during the waning days of the Civil War, found themselves living in dismal conditions here. At times, the death rate was higher in the prison than on the battlefield. The ghosts of yesterday where not yet at rest. Beads of water slide down Jess' glasses as Fern returns her chalice to the alter. Jess can taste the salt on her lips: salt from the mist, salt from the chalice, and salt from her own exertion and the heat of a typical Maryland summer day...

...Fern left her home in the relative cool, and definite fog - of dawn.  The drive from the suburbs of Prince George's county, thru' the rural roads of Calvert County and on to the nature preserves of St. Mary's county was a  pathworking, an unwinding, itself.  Houses and strip malls gave way to farms and towns, which in turn gave way to woods and smaller towns. 

When she arrived at Point Lookout park, it was still early in the day.  Water, lunch, and a towel went into her backpack, and a notebook to help her record her thoughts and the God/dess/es inspirations, and she headed off to hike the woods and streams.  But her first stop was the site of the old fort. Such a tiny plot of ground to have held so many prisoners!  Yes, the sense of misery and oppression is still strong there. 

From there she headed into the woods.  She spent time spotting birds, noting what areas had had the undergrowth burned out in the last few decades, and invested hours watching lizards along the trails and the masses of fiddler crabs.  When the day got hot, she went down to the stony beach, about a quarter mile beyond the fort going towards the lighthouse, and found a shady spot in which to nap... and dream...

A change in the wind awakens her a few hours later.  It is time!  She stretchs, walks eback to her car to change the contents of her backpack, and hikes over to the ritual site.  As she sees Nymue setting up the site, lighting candles, planting flowers, Fern wadesinto the Bay and the river in turn, filling one jar or water from each source.  Then Fern comes to the circle, placing the waters as well as a number of other items from her pack onto and near the altar.  She tucks the backpack away, changsinto 'formal ritual gear', takes a few minutes to ground and center, then returns.

Fern enters the circle, and takes four items off of the altar, startes some incense, and heads towards the Southeast, "By the fourfold name of the Great Mother:  Perserphone, the spring queen of the underworld." - Fern puts an offering of fresh flowers, then heads to the Southwest point - "Demeter, the fruitful mother," - Fern leaves an offering of stalks of grain, and headsfor the Northwest point - "Diana, the maiden huntress," - Fern leaves an offering of wild grapes gathered on her hike, and heads for the Northeast point - "Kali, the nipple that gives black milk," - Fern leaves an offering of beads made of rose petals - "This circle shall be purified and consecrated."

Fern goes back to the altar.  She taakes the blue chalice from it, pours into the the waters of the bay, of the river, and the water that had fallen some thousands of years before, brought from the deep artesian aquifer of home.  Holding the chalice up to the moon, she chargs it with the moonlight.  She lowers the chalice, takes one wand of lavender off the altar, and aspergs the circle starting in the east, chanting:

"So therefor first the witch who governs the works of fire shall sprinkle with the lustral waters of the loud resounding sea."  That done, she returns the chalice to the altar, takes the incense and censes the circle starting in the East, chanting "When after all the phantoms are vanished you shall see that holy and formless fire, that fire which darts and flashes thru' the hidden depths of the universe.  Hear the voice of fire!"

She returns the incense to the altar, again dips the lavender wand in the holy water, and asperges herself, "As above, so below.  As the universe so the soul.  As without, so within.  Blessed and gracious ones on this day we do consecrate to you our bodies, or minds, and our spirits.  Blessed be!" 

She turns outward, walking the circle, "The presence of the noble Goddess extends everywhere thru'out the many strange, magical and beautiful worlds to all  places of wilderness, enchantment and freedom.  Our Goddess is a Lady of joy - the winds are her servants.  Our Goddess is a Goddess of Love - at Her blessings and desire the sun brings forth life anew.  The seas are the domains of our serene lady - the mysteriest of the depths are Hers alone.  The circle is sealed and all within are totally and completely apart from the outside world, that we may glorify the Lady we adore.  Blessed be!" 

Going from person to person, Fern asperges each with the "As Above, so Below" chant.

She then faces the altar, raises her arms, and chants,"The place of this ritual is now consecrated to the honor of the High Ones.  This is a time taht is not a time, ina p lace that is not a place, on a day that is not a day, between the worlds and beyond......"  As she chants, fog begins rolling in, and in the moonlight the outlines of the circle become almost visible.....

Lowering her arms and stepping back, she makes way for...

...Standing in the east, Jess calls:

"Listen! Hear the silky sussuration of water on sand. Hear the pounding pulse of waves on rocks. Stop! Feel yourself in tune with the tide. We are water. We flow, we flood. Without water we die. Mother Mare, you shape us, you bathe us. In your depths we find sustenance. On your shores we find stillness. Your waves are more powerful than we can ever hope to be. You are relentless and unforgiving. You are beautiful and bountiful. You are the waters of life. Join us tonight, if it be your will!"

An answering spray dapples Jess's lenses again. She lowers her arms and wipes the droplets away (again!). Using Breed's flame, she lights a floating candle and places it in a bowl of seawater.

Jess returns to her place with the bowl and waits for...

... Pombagira trudges across the rocks and sand, water bottle in one hand, ironically, to call fire. in the other are a bunch of bright yellow black-eyed susans, cousins to Nym's daisies, and a ripe red tomato (there are more, and a canatalope, for afterward. it's impossible to come down this way and not get fresh produce).

not dancing like her namesake... but moving slowly gives you time to think. this place is full of contradictions--searing rock and cooling breezes and waters. one supernatural occurance here: some beach resort visitors in the 19th century had a vision of the whole world turned upside down--ships sailing through the sky, buildings reversed.

during the civil war, the world order turned upside down. women got out of the house and worked in the hospitals and even on the battlefields. white confederate prisoners were guarded by black troops--some of them even knew each other from "home." some black troops treated the prisoners kindly; others gave back what they had gotten. it was the site of a deathly prison camp and of one of the most advanced hospitals of its time, a place that finally began to recognize that people need space, light and air to heal. prisoners prayed they'd get smallpox so they'd have a chance at being transferred to the hospital. she thinks of how one of the fiery gods, mars, is a god of war, but also a patron of surgeons, who must know how to cut to heal. and a god of blood--which we all have in common, in the same color and basic makeup.

as she passes fern's chalice on the way to the south point, pomb thinks how even the wildlife here are coming from opposite poles--the fish that like the salty bay waters, and those that dwell in the fresh river water. she puts the flowers and tomato on a rock to the south of the circle and tries to get her balance back, smiling at the mixed looks of sympathy and amusement from some gathered here, and silently gives thanks for everyone's patience.

"fire spirit of the south, that gives up your energy to nourish our food, you are welcome here. fire spirit of the south, that melts away false boundaries between us with warming love, you are welcome here. fire spirit of the south, that dwells in the caldron and burns and transforms all we are ready to cast aside, you are welcome here."

she settles into the circle and waits to hear the call to earth...

...Anais makes her way to the altar, moving to its eastern limn and facing West. She places a bit of green moss still clinging to a clump of fertile earth, an obsidian stone, a small vial of salt, and oil of frankincense on the earth just beside the altar. She spreads her arms lowly, palms toward the earth, and says:

   "To the land, to the West we call
   Mountain, desert, plain, and forest."

She kneels and places the moss on the alter,

   "By greening moss, among the first to grow
   We request your loving bounty."

Then she places the obsidian stone in the center of the moss:

   "By soil and stone black as night
   We request your fertility for our crops."

She then opens the oil of frankinscence and invokes the Star of Pentagram by saying:

   "From each family and clan"

Then with the salt, seals the Pentacle deosil:

   "Arise our welcomes."

Anais places her hands on the altar to either side of the mossy clump and bows her head:

   "Our joy grows with your presence."

Anais slips quietly back to her place among the circle of friends, twice more whispering her call:

   "To the land, to the West we call
   Mountain, desert, plain, and forest.
   By greening moss, among the first to grow
   We request your loving bounty.
   By soil and stone black as night
   We request your fertility for our crops.
   From each family and clan
   Arise our welcomes.
   Our joy grows with your presence."

and looks about the circle until...

... Beth steps forward from the circle as Anais slips back in. She walks up to the altar and places her well-worn deerskin pouch upon it.  The long ties are loose; green deerskin oak leaves and brown acorns rest on the stone.

She steps back, and facing north, she closes her eyes.

"Spirits of the winds, we call upon you tonight.  We ask for your strength, your cleansing, and your renewal.  We ask for the cobwebs of sadness and darkness and misfortune to be blown out.  We ask for hope, for light, and for new beginnings."

Beth slowly raises her hands and turns her palms outward at shoulder height.  Her fingers are open.  Her eyes remain closed.

"Salt-water breezes, you are needed tonight.  Come work your healing magick!"

A small smile plays around her lips as the familiar and beloved feel of the air's cleansing currents lift the damp tendrils of hair from her cheeks and neck and cool the evening's muggy warmth.

Eyes still closed, she steps forward to the altar and places her hands on either side of the untied pouch.

The breeze intensifies and goosepimples rise on Beth's arms.

"Come to us tonight, oh winds of healing and change!"

Ahhhh!  A collective sigh escapes the circle.  Slowly Beth's deerskin pouch seems to begin to vibrate.  The air currents tease the opening of the bag and a sparkling spiral of firefly-sized, green and blue and white irredescent glow runes emerge and slowly rise upwards, linked to one another like a DNA chain.  Uruz, Sowulo, and Berkana...healing, wholeness, and new beginnings...repeated again and again...spiral moonward.

Beth can feel the cone's growing strength and her smile broadens.

The healing runes' spiral hovers momentarily, pulsing in hues of green and blue and white, as if suspended in time and space.  Beth's eyes finally open and her hands drop away from the sides of the deerskin pouch.

"Spirits of the wind, we welcome you tonight!" 

Like the mothers and fathers of the sky blowing a dandelion stalk, a puff of wind suddenly scatters the glow runes from their spiral over the circle of gathered friends.

Healing, wholeness and new beginnings descend over the group softly. Beth turns to Nym and smiles gently. "So it shall be."

She gathers up her empty pouch and steps back from the altar to take her place in the circle as...

... Nym' steps up to the altar once more placing a basket of Forget-Me-Nots upon it, lighting a white votive beside the basket she looks to the stars.

Beloved Ancestors..you of our flesh, you of this land, you of our spirits. You who have shaped this world before us. We ask your guidance, we remember with respect and love your spirits, and we ask you to join with us to lend your guidance."

   "We are thy children,
   In spirit, in heart, and in flesh,
   In thought, in speech, and in deeds,
   Put forth to us the magic of life.
   Bring us to the starlight realm and
   Bathe us in the Cauldron of Immortality,
   Like the fire on the mountain, like the mystery on the lake.
   In the spiral enchanted path of our calling,
   Be it easy or uneasy to our spirit,
   Be it bright or dark for us to follow,
   Thine own star of guidance be upon us.
   And in each secret thought our minds do weave,
   Be thou the hand upon the loom and the shuttle."

Then silently to herself and her beloved Father Nym' thinks.. "It has been 4 years this week since you past from this world. Please watch over my little girls and the spirit of the little ones yet to be.

Feeling the calming breeze gifted to then of Beth's magick.. Nym' brush a single tear from her cheek and returns to a place of peace and comfort in the circle and awaits...

... suz steps forward and sets a light to the fire laid before the altar.  as the flames crackle and rise, she lifts her cauldron and hangs it from the tripod which straddles the fire.

from her place in the circle she retrieves a covered bowl, and a basket. she uncovers both and begins to walk around the circle, handing the contents of the bowl and basket to each participant. "my dears, here is bread which i have baked with basil and cinnamon, for strength and healing.  here also is honey gathered from the hive of a dear friend of mine who is a beekeeper." small jars of honey are dispensed along with fine paintbrushes, and generous hunks of warm bread.

''what within you needs healing?  use the brush to paint sigils, or runes, or whatever symbols speak to you, and draw your pain onto the bread.  direct your focus into it, and let the bread take on and absorb your need.  when you are ready, place the bread into the cauldron. sea water from the shoreline is warming there.  let your problems and pains simmer in the healing brine.  when the ritual is ended, we will pour the contents into the sea, and as the bread feeds our water brothers and sisters, so shall your ills be cleansed and changed by the great mother Mare, and transformed into strength and health.'

taking her own piece of bread, suz looks deeply into the eyes of a friend who is carrying something which does not belong with him.  she takes a deep breath and uses the honey to depict that which she wishes to banish. stepping up to the now gently steaming cauldron, suz tosses the bread into the brine.

"begone!!  you have no home here!  you have no life here!  you have no strength or power or desire to stay here!  you have no welcome here and you may not remain. so mote it be!
"
with a deep breath, suz steps back and allows the petitioners to come forward...

...Owl has quietly watched as the others prepared the Sacred Space. Approaching the Altar, she breathes deeply, and gathers her thoughts ... then empties her mind to sense the energies gathering here tonite. Nym ... So concerned with her own family .. yet needing to come to this place to shore up her own flagging energy. Wishing she could make everything better .. feeling her daughter's anquish .. reliving her own .. and knowing that time will heal ... but the memory will remain. Fern ... A seeker, and a wanderer, like her ancestors before her. In touch with her own history, and seeing the threads of connections over so many lifetimes, and continents. Anais ... getting to know the Elementals ... accepting and appreciating the awesome power quietly held in check. Beth ... Reading the Runes, knowing they are more than random scratches on ancient rocks. Working with the Sigels of old ways. Bringing them once again to the forefront of awareness .. sharing her gift. Jess ... hearing the Music of the Earth, and being able to transform it into her own being. Resonating with song, and laughter, and yes, even the "Blues" .... a Bard in the true sense .. Suz ... Tending the Cauldron .. a Hearth Spirit ..Helpful, supportive ... giving the opportunity of rebirth .. So in touch with the Mother ... and coming into her own as a Priestess of that aspect. Pomb ... glowing, growing, full and ripe, and so content to be in that special stage of womanhood. The waters of life are flowing full to bursting thru her body. And safe within, the new life, waiting to make her entrance, and experience the world and all it's glories. And all the others who watch the preparations .. standing at the edge of the Circle .. feeling the energies gather .. and connecting with each of these Daughters as they prepare the Sacred Space .. each with her own thoughts, wishes, dreams, expectations.

And here I stand ... Crone ... Watching as each walks the Circle in her own beauty and experience ... and my throat chokes with emotion .. tears well hotly behind my eyes ... as I realize the wonder of the Goddess in each woman here present. It is beyond me to Invoke the Goddess from some otherworldly place, for She is here with us all of the time. I see her in each face, as they go about their preparations ... and I am humbled ... So I call to each of you:

   "Let Goddess walk within you,
   Let Goddess walk about you
   Let Goddess step before us
   and join us in this Rite.
   May all who hear her whisper
   Take the hand of me, your Sister
   Let Goddess step before us
   And Celebrate the Nite.

Owl holds out her hands ... and gazes around at all the faces ... as the women come to take her hand and form the inner circle .. She looks for the face of her Brother ... waiting for him, and the men to form the outer circle ... .. As the women join hands, they are facing outward ... waiting for the Call of the God ........ The Goddess is with us .. the Goddess is within us ... The Goddess waits to welcome the God...

...Deer, too, had watched as the ceremony progressed. With each call, he'd felt a surge in the already unbelievable level of energy concentrated in this place, among this wonderful group of friends... It had seemed as if each of the elementals had passed through and over him on the way to their respective quarters. Each cleansing him in its own special way. Each leaving it's own peculiar signature upon the ebb and flow of his own energies. Each concentrating his focus on the themselves and on the individual human beings gathered in their demonstration of the interrelatedness of all.

And with the welcome of the Ancestors, a host of new voices had joined the rhythms in Deer's head. A great fugue of humanity - almost cacophonous simply by virtue of it's immensity in number - yet composed of so many beautiful voices, so many rich stories poised in point and counterpoint as to draw the unwary listener endlessly deeper into its embrace. Deer had hovered upon the brink of that vast sea, a fluid weaving which ever shapes and reshapes perception, as Owl began... "And I stand here ... Crone... Watching"

Tonight Deer understood, as he'd never understood before, the point... the purpose... the very reason (though being pan, he well understood that there is no one point, purpose or truth). "It has been maintained by many Wise Ones, of many cultures and many ages, that every animal has its nature, every spirit its special design. Some have disagreed as to whether man has a nature, or instinct of his own. But this which we do here tonight, which some of us carry into every aspect, every moment, every decision of our lives, must surely be it. Or, perhaps, it may be that which we do in response to the lack of our ability to perceive our own nature. But surely the weaving, the telling and retelling of the hundred thousand thousand stories - each a reflection of the great saga of our Lady and Lord and each a composition singular and whole of itself, but inevitably interwoven with the strands of other songs - surely this was humans' nature, humans' instinct. For the stories, the songs, the dance that often accompanies them, support the existence of our cosmos."

"No doubt," Deer mused, "the universe will continue on when the last human voice is silenced. Deer will still be deer... and owl, owl. The trees will stand, the forests and the oceans will team with life. But our cosmos, the human cosmos, will cease. And so, we tell each other of the plants and the wild beasts. We tell each other of our selves and our ancestors. And we tell each other of the manifold vastness of our Lady's and our Lord's love for each other, and for each and every one of Their children. For in the telling, in the singing, in the dancing, *we* create this very web in which we live and to which we give our children..."

More of Owl's words filter through, "...tears well hotly behind my eyes ... as I realize the wonder of the Goddess in each woman here present." And suddenly warmed by the radiance of God in every man among them, Deer feels the wild pounding of his heart, the salty wetness of his own cheeks. "Yes, there it is, quite simply. The telling recreates our cosmos. And we undertake it because there is that of Goddess, that of God, in each of us..." Deer looks deeply into his sister's eyes... into the eternities which arise in every blink, "And I call to each of you:

   "Let the God talk within you,
   Let the God talk about you,
   Let God dance here among us
   and join us in this Rite.
   May all those who feel Him thunder
   Join this circle of hands, of brothers
   Let God dance here among us
   And Celebrate this Night."

And Deer finds himself, surrounded and surrounding, part of a flowing circle facing inwards... Gods and Goddesses - each with their own voice raised in the song, their own step in the dance. And more than a few bearing the songs of others, while occasionally stepping a different pattern for another. Feeling the spread and link of all the energies invited - always present but not always recognized - Deer feels at one with each - inexorably woven from this place that is no place, this time that is not time, out into his own life... which floats (though not aimlessly) upon a ripple in the vast weaving; the living, breathing ocean of human existence.

"And so," Deer calls out, "we enter the telling. God is among us! God is within us!" Deer then scans the inner circle - looking to Nymue to begin the next round of this ritual...

... Nym' walks to Suz's Magickal Cauldron and lifts the piece of bread so loving baked to the sky. Then drawing the five-pointed star upon it with honey she speaks.

   "The Pentacle of the God and the Goddess with me
   From the top of my face to the edge of my feet.
   O Tegid mild, O Ceridwen wise,
   O radiant Taliesyn, chief god of bards,
   Preserve us in the middle world,
   The three preserve us on the old straight path.
   Three preserve us with the Ancient Harmonies.
   Preserve us in the Spiral Castle,
   Preserve us in the Four-Cornered Castle,
   Preserve us in the Isle of the Strong Door,
   The preservation of the three upon all tonight."

Bowing her head she adds the bread to the cauldron, Then takes a Daisy from her hair.

"For my Children and theirs and all of the children of your realm I ask this blessing:"

   Within the Circle of Circles,
   The peace of Pwyll and Llew,
   Of Manawyddan and Math the Ancient,
   And of the two perfect words,
   The two perfect words.
   The peace of the Mother of Love,
   The peace of the Maiden of Beauty,
   The peace of the Crone of Wisdom,
   To ourselves and to our children,
   Our children and our children's children.

Nym' returns to her place overwhelmed by the love, strength and calm of this circle, and awaits the other petitions...

... And Rosemary says, "If you please, Goddess, the little round, brown church...

...Jess turns to the sea, watching the water beat endlessly on the rocks. Mother Mare is eternal, she thinks. She is almost to big to comprehend. And yet, Jess has learned an important lesson: There are some things you cannot control, you must simply let them be. Man will build endless dykes and channels, move dunes, and create jetties, but they will never control her. Only one song fits this mood. Turning back to the circle, Jess begins to sing:

   "When I find myself in times of trouble
   Mother Mary comes to me
   Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
   And in my hour of darkness
   She is standing right in front of me
   Speaking words of wisdom, let it be."

The song - written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, is so familiar, and so loved, that voices join in immediately.

   "Let it be, let it be.
   Whisper words of wisdom, let it be."

Those who know the lyrics continue to sing. Other voices drop to a hum, bolstering Jess, already riding a wave of energy.

   "And when the broken hearted people
   Living in the world agree,
   There will be an answer, let it be.
   For though they may be parted there is
   Still a chance that they will see
   There will be an answer, let it be."

Again all the voices join in

   "Let it be, let it be. Yeah
   There will be an answer, let it be."

With the final verse, hands join and voices rise. The last verse is a realization and a release:

   "And when the night is cloudy,
   There is still a light that shines on me,
   Shine on until tomorrow, let it be.
   I wake up to the sound of music
   Mother Mary comes to me
   Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
   Let it be, let it be.
   There will be an answer, let it be.
   Let it be, let it be,
   Whisper words of wisdom, let it be."

With hands joined, the members of the circle sway gently as the final refrain dies away.

Jess wipes the stupid grin from her face and rejoins the circle as...

 ...Fern concentrates deeply as she draws a honeyed sigil on the bread.  As she walks forward and puts the bread in the cauldron, she speaks:

"Landis, who is 23 years old and lives in Portland, is facing possible testicular cancer.   He is blessed to not be facing this alone - his lover and his lover's mother, among others, are supporting him in this potential crisis.  Whatever is causing the problem, tho, he needs healing.  And healed he shall be!"

Fern returns to her place, allowing others to come forth with words or in silence...

...Nym' returns to the center of the circle..looking at each member there with love, respect and gratitude in her heart... Looking skyward she raises her outstretched hands, palms open to the moon and speaks..

   "Brightest Lady, Blessed Lord we thank and honor you for your assistance.
   Bless ourselves and our children,
   Bless every wish that comes from our loins,
   Bless him whose name we whisper,
   Bless her from whose womb came totality.
   Every enchantment, blessing and power,
   Be yielded to us every time and every hour,
   In the name of the sacred Triad within,
   Maiden, Mother, and Crone forever."

   "Ancestors you are always with us..your hands guides us
   Be thou a bright flame before us,
   Be thou a guiding star above us,
   Be thou a smooth path beneath us,
   Be thou a kindly wind behind us.
   We thank you."

   "Blessed Sihde, we pay you homage.
   Unto the silver light of dream and Faerie,
   From the light of this day,
   Unto the light of a new day
   We bow our heads in gratitude to the powers, water, wind, earth and fire...
   The earth to nurish us,
   The waters that flow in and around us,
   The fire to burn our passion,
   The winds to bring about change."

   "We give ourselves to ...
    Be loyal to the Lord of the Wild Wood,
    Be true to the Lady of the Stars,
    Be true to thine own self besides,
    True to the magic of Nature above all else."

Nym' turn and waits for Fern...

...Fern holds high the spring of lavender, as she walks to the East.  She holds it before her, tracing the circle from East to North to West to South and back to East.  As she does, the mist roll back a bit, allowing all to more clearly see the land about them. 

Going back to the center of the circle she says "The hour is done, the spells are cast, and honor given tot he High One of far times past.  The circle is now open, but never broken.  So mote it be!  The rite is ended!..."

... slipping her hands into flowered potholders, suz carefully lifts the gently steaming cauldron and walks VERY carefully to a rock overhanging the waves.  she stops for a moment, then with a flex of trembling biceps hefts the cauldron up and in front of her.

"mother mare, we honor you and ask that you receive these gifts of our hearts. as your waters and those who dwell within consume and encompass them, please make the transformation and let the energy manifest as we have willed. your beauty overwhelms us. your strength awes us. your savagery thrills us. your gentleness warms us. all blessings to you, goddess, and to the god your consort."

arms trembling with the strain, suz tips the cauldron into the moonshimmering water.  the bread pieces bob and float, then a flurry of ripples and thrashing roil the surface.  for a few minutes there is turbulence on the face of the waters, then slowly it subsides.  as the watchers gaze at the heaving expanse of glimmering waves, there is a silver iridescent flash.  a huge wahoo has become airborne, his magnificent crest flashing as he curves in pride before cutting smoothly back beneath the surface. suz smiles at the circle.  "the offering has been accepted..."

...Returning to the center, Anais places the scarf inside the box and gently and carefully slides the moss, and obsidian stone, the frankincense pentagram, and salt sealing the pentacle to rest within.

Three of Nym's daisies for Kelly she adds, then calls and redirects the circle's still present energies into the pentacle. Finally, she adds a handful of rose petals and carefully wraps the contents before placeing the cover on the "gift box".

Moving to Nym's side, Anais says, "When the time is right, you'll know. "

...As Suz gave the contents of the Cauldron over to the sea Nym' walked back out onto the rocky point.  The glow of the moon lent it's light to the now abandonded lighthouse giving it an otherworldly sheen.  Someone had stared a bonfire on the beach and Nym could here the splashing of her friends as they enjoyed the cooling waters, soon hotdogs and marshmallows would be on sticks for roasting. Nym' knew with certainty that while Fern had opened the circle it would never be broken.it was in us and around us, spiraling and renewing with the Mothers  love.

The cry of a gull brought Nym's attention back to the bay. as the Moon painted a shimmering trail on the gentle waves it drew her awareness to a tiny boat.  The Gull on it bow seemed to invite her in... Settling in for some time to reflect on the evenings magick... Nym drifted off to sleep.. with a vision of loving eyes in the stars... and she whispers the words of Elizabeth Akers Allen's "Rock me sleep, Mother."

   "Backward, turn backward, O time, in your flight,
   Make me a child again just for tonight !
   Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
   Take me again to your heart as of yore;
   Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
   Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
   Over my slumbers your loving watch keep; -
   Rock me to sleep, Mother- rock me to sleep!"

   "Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
   No love like mothers-love ever has shone;
   No other worship abides and endures -
   Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours;
   None like a mother can charm away pain
   From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
   Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep; -
   Rock me to sleep, Mother - rock me to sleep!"

   "Mother, dear Mother, the years have been long
   Since I last listened your lullaby song ;
   Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
   Womanhood's years have been only a dream.
   Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
   With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
   Never hereafter to wake or to weep; -
   Rock me sleep, Mother - rock me to sleep!"