We meet in the piedmont of the middle Atlantic of the US. We meet in a parched field. We meet in the late afternoon sunshine. We meet in on a cool, crisp day. We meet just before the full moon begins Her slow, majestic rise over the horizon. We meet where the breeze sometimes brings a wiff of smoke. We meet in a world out of balance.

The past few months have brought extremes. The ground beneath our feet is dry and dusty. For several months now we have been extremely low on rain. We must be careful with our fire this night, for the dryness - amplified by the falling and blowing leaves - increases the risk of wildfires. In nearby West Virginia they burn even now. But that is not the smoke we sense in the wind. Over the past two months, terror has come to our land in a new form. Planes have been turned to bombs, and thousands have been killed - a blood offering by extremists to the Kali Yuga. Then a new terror, ancient disease spread by modern mail. Same source? Different source? Does it matter? "Things fall apart, the center does not hold..."

We meet in this place, at this time of year and history. And having met, we start out on our journey to the Garden of the Moon.

Leaves crackle as we walk the trail, overgrown and neglected, but still we can find and follow it. Into the greenwood we go, into the pines that first populate burnt out areas here. Pine begin to mix with poplar and sweetgum, and finally to oak and black walnut as we make our way into long-established forest. As the trees have changed, so, too, has the land. We make our way uphill now, and shale, sandstone, and limestone outcroppings are the markers we follow. The twilight grows, as does our thirst in this parched land.

The sun has fled by the time we near the summit. The soil is thin here, rock just below, so few trees are there. We come out of the forest from between two massive tulip poplars, to a scene bathed in the light of the rising moon. As we pass a lightening-blasted oak, we see that the firetenders have started a small fire safely within the stone firepit, lit Yahrtzit (Jewish memorial candles, in small heat proof glass containers) line the path to the ritual area and outline the ritual area. A well-stocked altar and a cauldron of water are in place, and in the area is a stubborn Oak sapling. Here we gather, and await the honoring of the Earth Mother...

…Earth Mother, we know you're busy. You hear the crying of so many children and don't know who to go to first. Come to us in this rite and let us honor you. We see your bare bones in the stones around us, and we see your beauty. A different beauty than what we see at other times of the year. Harder, stronger.

We honor your strength.

In this ritual, we will raise whatever strength we have left, and through your magic, and through our magic, all our strength will increase. Through your creative power and our own it will multiply. We will have enough, more than enough strength for all our intentions, for work toward your healing, for the intentions of the others you are helping, those we don't even know about.

We honor our strength.

Welcome, Earth Mother, our honored guest.

Pombagira crunches through the field back to her place in the circle and awaits...

…Fern again steps forward.

"We know little of how our ancestors worshipped, we are separated from them by time and custom. However, we do know that they built their areas for worship with several consistant features - deep pit, a hearth, and a reinforced hole that held the base of a tall wooden shaft. The pit was the Well, the hearth held the Fire, and the shaft was the bile', the world tree.

"Oh sacred Well! The water of life flows in you as it flows in our veins. Your water nourishes us, and the land. From you we are born, and to you we must return to stay alive. Oh sacred Well, we flow we you!

"Oh sacred Fire! You cook our food, you light our homes. You are the nexus around which we meet for our rites, and even children know that gathering around a fire is time for learning secrets yet untold. You bring our offerings to the Gods in smoke, and to the Earth in ashes. You come with us to this spot. Like us you hunger and must be fed. Like us, you come to dance for but a short time. Oh sacred Fire, we burn with you!

"Oh sacred Tree! Your round trunk defines the world we live in. Your strong roots reach down and draw up the sacred waters. Your branches reach up to heavens, drawing energy from the sacred Fire of the Sun. Light and dark meet in your trunk. Oh sacred Tree, we stand with you!"

Fern returns to her place, awaiting...

…Croman nods to Fern as she finishes, then approaches the Cauldron, a large Oaken cudgel in his hand.

"A Dhaghda, God of Druids, Ollathair, Father of All, I, Croman mac Nessa, a Druid, join my will with Yours to lift the Fog that is the barrier between the worlds. Let the Druids' Fog be parted, that those we invite to this Rite may join with us here. So be it."

He strikes the ground three times with the cudgel and steps back to his place among the assemblage…

…Doreen walks to the Nature Spirits altar, picks up a small cup filled with spelt and walks to the fire in the center of the ritual space. She begins to speak:

    "I call to you, o nature spirits.
   Sprits of fertile forest and harvested earth
   Sprits of mighty trees and air above us
   Sprits of healing well and water sources"

   "Be with us here tonight,
   when the veil between the worlds is thinnest,"

   "You who know the cycles of planting and harvesting
   You who know the cycles of the seasons
   You who know the cycle of life and death"

   "Hail to you, oh wise ones!"

Doreen takes the spelt, and sprinkles it in the fire, causing small sparks to swirl into the sky.

She then says:

"Nature Spirits - Blessings and welcome!"

Doreen then, as quietly as possible, (which isn't very silent considering the leaves underfoot) moves back to the Nature Spirits altar and stands silently, anticipating...

…Nym' steps to the Ancestors altar beneath the Hunter Moon. Clasping a triskel in her hand, she looks around.

The children of the earth call out to the mighty dead. Hear us, our ancestors, our kindred.

   "Ancestors of our hearts,
   Ancestors of our blood,
   Ancestors of this land."

   "We seek your guidance,
   We ask your protection,
   We honor your dreams."

   "Join with us this night,
   We look up to and know you.
   Above all, we bid you welcome."

   "Gadael hi bod."

The rustlings of the fallen leaves take on a haunting sound of mingled tongues… The Ancestors are here...

…Jess steps forward, holding a basket of crimson mums from her garden.

"It seems strange to call our gods to our presence. Not because I feel unworthy or because it seems too formal. It's because I never feel that I am not in Their presence. Even this morning, I looked up into the clear, blue November sky, and there was the moon, hanging ghostlike."

"The last two months have beem marked by both tragedy and joy. One seems so much more plentiful than the other, but there are still those moments of happiness, clarity, life, and just sheer joy. Rather than call the gods to witness our rite, I call us to witness the contant presence of deity."

Jess hands the flowers to the participants, reserving one for herself. Returning to the center she says: "Keep this flower as a reminder: They are always with us."

Jess deposits the now empty basket behind her spot in the circle and awaits the Gatekeeper…

…Fern steps to the fire.

"In troubled times, such as we are now in, having a worthy Gatekeeper mediating the energy flowing into and out of our Land, our Tribe, our People, is a critical thing. And it matters not how widely or narrowly you define Land, Tribe, People.

"Dagda is a more than worthy Gatekeeper. A God in his prime, a God who has both been active in battle and active in seeking peace. A God old and wise, who cares not about public opinion.

"Let us honor the Dagda with offerings! Bring forth your music, your food, your dance, your poety!

"Who has an offering to honor the Dagda?"

Fern steps back, waiting for the folks to make their offerings...

…pomb thinks about her own gatekeeper god. he's sometimes a wise and canny old man, sometimes a playful child. with a brain frayed from baby care, she quickly picks up the first thing she has to offer, hoping it will appeal to a childlike side of this gatekeeper as well. she sings, softly, however inappropriately:

   "You are my sunshine
  My only sunshine
  You make me happy
   When skies are gray
   You'll never know dear
   How much I love you
   Please don't take my sunshine away..."

That's her offering and also her petition. She quiets down and waits for...

…Fern steps forward, tottering under the weight of a basket. The basket is the size of a basinette, and is loaded with non-perishable foods... as well as a huge loaf of homemade bread.

"Dagda! Your appetites are known to be impressive. So, I have brought all this food in your honor." She puts the bread in the fire. "The bread is directly to you, via the fire. The rest of the food will be given to the food bank, in Your honor, to help feed the needy of the tribe." The fire light glints off of the food in the basket - canned ham and chicken, canned fruits and veggies and soups, cake mix, flour, sugar, boxes of jello, cereal, etc.

Fern steps back to her place, and awaits...

…DragonSage approaches the fire removing something from the folds of her cloak. In one hand are three acorns, each inscribed with a rune. In her other hand is a large oak leaf also inscribed. As she looks at each acorn she ponders their meanings and announces:

"Uruz. The Wild Ox. Of Terminations and New Cycles. Of Chaos and Potential. Of True Will and Freedom."

"Ansuz. The Ancestors. Of Truth and Insight. Of Wisdom and Council. Of Power and Healing."

"Kenaz. The Beacon. Of Knowledge and Inspiration. Of Intent and Concentration. Of Transformation and Cleansing."

She then looks into the fire and speaks:

"In this time between worlds, we welcome you, Dagda, with your wisdom and insight. It is now time to focus on Balance. From Chaos is Order and from the unexpected is Knowledge. In the turmoil and uncertaintity lives a confidence that Balance will prevail. And for all those who seek this Balance and work with their will to direct the change, we must remember that it is important to draw from the well for ourselves first so that we may nourish others with the overflow. It is a time of seriousness for clear intent and concentration and for transformation of thought and action in all that is said and unsaid. It is a time to come together and discuss the now. And it is a time to look inside, to the Ancestors and the Memories."

DragonSage takes the three acorns and wraps them in the oak leaf inscribed with the rune Dagaz and remembers back to earlier that day during her meditation in the forest. A flash, a connection of the One, of the All. Dagaz, a balance point. A point between worlds. The transition needed to send the petition.

She places the bundle into the fire and watches the subtle color changes as the message drifts through the gates at the same time the message radiates outward. She steps back from the fire hearing the faint whisper on the wind and waits…

…Fern steps forth again and starts to sing a Bonewits rhyme:

   "The Dagda's Club is too large for much stealth,
   so it drags all the time on the ground.
   It's larger by half than the Good God himself
   It's like has never been found.
   It amazed on the morn of the day that he was born
   And it's long been his treasure and pride.
   The power... of... the Dagda's mighty club
   just cannot be denied."

   "For it's huge and it's frightening!
   Wham! Bam! Wham! Bam!
   It's fast as the lightening!
   Wham! Bam! Wham! Bam!
   The power... of... Dagda's Mighty Club
   just cannot be denied."

   "The Dagda's a God at the peak of his power
   No bare-cheeked lad is he.
   With the strength and the wit to match any other God
   And the appetites of three.
   Oh, he'll eat up all your food,
   And he'll drink up all you've brewed
   And maidens, you soon will have none.
   They'll line up ... at... the sight of his mighty club.
   Oh, it dazzles everyone!"
   
   "For it's huge and it's frightening!
   Wham! Bam! Wham! Bam!
   It's fast as the lightening!
   Wham! Bam! Wham! Bam!
   The power... of... Dagda's Mighty Club
   just cannot be denied."

   "Morrigan, Mighty Queen, Terror of all the Gods,
   Is a Dangerous Female.
   When She screams out her lust mortal men grab their cods,
   And immortal ones turn pale.
   But the Dagda has no fear,
   Their relationship is clear,
   He can turn her roaring to a purr.
   When She wants ... her... rough and tumble way
   He stands right up to her!"

   "For it's huge and it's frightening!
   Wham! Bam! Wham! Bam!
   It's fast as the lightening!
   Wham! Bam! Thank you Ma'am!
   The power... of... Dagda's Mighty Club
   just cannot be denied."

Fern steps back to her spot, and awaits...

…Jess steps back to the center and reaches into her back pocket. "Could I get a light? Candle, flashlight, anything?" Someone steps forward with a maglite and trains the beam on Jess. "Thanks!" "I hold in my hand a modern-day oracle: My PalmPilot. Through a lovely little program called Wyrd, I can pose questions to the little screen, tap it, and let the runes spin to the screen. So I write: What can we expect this moon? and tap.

   "The Present: Sowilo: Leadership and victory
   The Dilemma: Gebo: Deepening of a relationship
   The Unseen: Othila: An inheritance
   The Opportunity: Jera: A long cycle toward healing, fruition
   The Solution: Dagaz: Balance"

"What does it all mean? We find ourselves, as people living in a global age, embroiled in war. Our leaders (sowilo), elected or installed, have committed troops and machines to what some consider a holy war (gebo). This is not a new situation but a conflict 30 years in the making (othila). We have the chance, in the long run, to heal (jera). Until that time, all we can do is find a way to satisfy the need for justice and still be reasonable human beings (dagaz)."

Jess closes the PalmPilot. Looking around the gathered faces she says "For now, and for always, balance is the key to remaining a civilized society…"

…Fern is so happy with the omen that she could do cartwheels. Well, at least TRY to do cartwheels. However, calling paramedics to an online rite being difficult, she restrains herself.

Instead, she steps forward and speaks. "Let's take a moment to meditate on the omen. Seems to me that Dagda seems well pleased at our thinking of him!"

After a few moments of meditation, she goes on. "We have met at the full moon, and slowly and surely done our magic to reinforce the Guardian of the Gate, protecting us as we interact with those of other places. Dagda, Gods and Goddesses, Ancestors, Nature Spirits, we thank you for you attention to our rite. Revel with us if you may, leave if you must. Honored Ones, Blessings and Thanks!"

Fern turns from the altar and curtsies to all those who attended. "The rite is over. Thanks, everyone, for your attention and energies! Blessings, and Thanks!"