A Midsummer’s Celebration

 by Mike Nichols

The young maid stole through the cottage door, And blushed as she sought the Plant of pow’r; — “Thou silver glow-worm, O lend me thy light, I must gather the mystic St. John’s wort tonight, The wonderful herb, whose leaf will decide If the coming year shall make me a bride.”

In addition to the four great festivals of the Pagan Celtic year, there are four lesser holidays as well: the two solstices, and the two equinoxes. In folklore, these are referred to as the four “quarter days” of the year, and modern Witches call them the four “Lesser Sabbats”, or the four “Low Holidays”. The summer solstice is one of them.

Technically, a solstice is an astronomical point and, due to the calendar creep of the leap-year cycle, the date may vary by a few days depending on the year. The summer solstice occurs when the sun reaches the Tropic of Cancer, and we experience the longest day and the shortest night of the year. Astrologers know this as the date on which the sun enters the sign of Cancer.

However, since most European peasants were not accomplished at reading an ephemeris or did not live close enough to Salisbury Plain to trot over to Stonehenge and sight down its main avenue, they celebrated the event on a fixed calendar date, June 24. The slight forward displacement of the traditional date is the result of multitudinous calendrical changes down through the ages. It is analogous to the winter solstice celebration, which is astronomically on or about December 21, but is celebrated on the traditional date of December 25, Yule, later adopted by the Christians.

Again, it must be remembered that the Celts reckoned their days from sundown to sundown, so the June 24 festivities actually begin on the previous sundown (our June 23). This was the date of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Which brings up another point: our modern calendars are quite misguided in suggesting that ‘summer begins’ on the solstice. According to the old folk calendar, summer begins on May Day and ends on Lammas (August 1), with the summer solstice, midway between the two, marking midsummer. This makes more logical sense than suggesting that summer begins on the day when the sun’s power begins to wane and the days grow shorter.

Although our Pagan ancestors probably preferred June 24 (and indeed most European folk festivals today use this date), the sensibility of modern Witches seems to prefer the actual solstice point, beginning the celebration on its eve, or the sunset immediately preceding the solstice point. Again, it gives modern Pagans a range of dates to choose from with, hopefully, a weekend embedded in it.

Just as the Pagan Midwinter celebration of Yule was adopted by Christians as “Christmas” (December 25), so too the Pagan Midsummer celebration was adopted by them as the Feast of John the Baptist (June 24). Occurring 180 degrees apart on the wheel of the year, the Midwinter celebration commemorates the birth of Jesus, while the Midsummer celebration commemorates the birth of John, the prophet who was born six months before Jesus in order to announce his arrival.

Although modern Witches often refer to the holiday by the rather generic name of “Midsummer’s Eve”, it is more probable that our Pagan ancestors of a few hundred years ago actually used the Christian name for the holiday, “St. John’s Eve”. This is evident from the wealth of folklore that surrounds the summer solstice (i.e., that it is a night especially sacred to the faerie folk), but which is inevitably ascribed to “St. John’s Eve”, with no mention of the sun’s position. It could also be argued that a coven’s claim to antiquity might be judged by what name it gives the holidays. (Incidentally, the name ‘Litha’ for the holiday is a modern usage, possibly based on a Saxon word that means the opposite of Yule. Still, there is little historical justification for its use in this context.) But weren’t our Pagan ancestors offended by the use of the name of a Christian saint for a pre-Christian holiday?

Well, to begin with, their theological sensibilities may not have been as finely honed as our own. But secondly and more mportantly, St. John himself was often seen as a rather Pagan figure. He was, after all, called “the Oak King”. His connection to the wilderness (from whence “the voice cried out”) was often emphasized by the rustic nature of his shrines. Many statues show him as a horned figure (as is also the case with Moses). Christian iconographers mumble embarrassed explanations about “horns of light”, while modern Pagans giggle and happily refer to such statues as “Pan the Baptist”. And to clench matters, many depictions of John actually show him with the lower torso of a satyr, cloven hooves and all! Obviously, this kind of John the Baptist is more properly a Jack in the Green! Also obvious is that behind the medieval conception of St. John lies a distant, shadowy Pagan Deity, perhaps the archetypal Wild Man of the wood, whose face stares down at us through the foliate masks that adorn so much church architecture. Thus, medieval Pagans may have had fewer problems adapting than we might suppose.

In England, it was the ancient custom on St. John’s Eve to light large bonfires after sundown, which served the double purpose of providing light to the revelers and warding off evil spirits. This was known as “setting the watch”. People often jumped through the fires for good luck. In addition to these fires, the streets were lined with lanterns, and people carried cressets (pivoted lanterns atop poles) as they wandered from one bonfire to another. These wandering, garland-bedecked bands were called a “marching watch”. Often they were attended by morris dancers, and traditional players dressed as a unicorn, a dragon, and six hobbyhorse riders. Just as May Day was a time to renew the boundary of one’s own property, so Midsummer’s Eve was a time to ward the boundary of the city.

Customs surrounding St. John’s Eve are many and varied. At the very least, most young folk plan to stay up throughout the whole of this shortest night. Certain courageous souls might spend the night keeping watch in the center of a circle of standing stones. To do so would certainly result in either death, madness, or (hopefully) the power of inspiration to become a great poet or bard. (This is, by the way, identical to certain incidents in the first branch of The Mabinogion.) This was also the night when the serpents of the island would roll themselves into a hissing, writhing ball in order to engender the “glain”, also called the “serpent’s egg”, “snake stone”, or “Druid’s egg”. Anyone in possession of this hard glass bubble would wield incredible magical powers. Even Merlyn himself (accompanied by his black dog) went in search of it, according to one ancient Welsh story.

Snakes were not the only creatures active on Midsummer’s Eve. According to British faery lore, this night was second only to Halloween for its importance to the Wee Folk, who especially enjoyed a ridling on such a fine summer’s night. In order to see them, you had only to gather fern seed at the stroke of midnight and rub it onto your eyelids. But be sure to carry a little bit of rue in your pocket, or you might well be “pixie-led”. Or, failing the rue, you might simply turn your jacket inside out, which should keep you from harm’s way. But if even this fails, you must seek out one of the “ley lines”, the old straight tracks, and stay upon it to your destination. This will keep you safe from any malevolent power, as will crossing a stream of “living” (running) water.

Other customs included decking the house (especially over the front door) with birch, fennel, St. John’s wort, orpin, and white lilies. Five plants were thought to have special magical properties on this night: rue, roses, St. John’s wort, vervain, and trefoil. Indeed, Midsummer’s Eve in Spain is called the “Night of the Verbena (Vervain)”. St. John’s wort was especially honored by young maidens who picked it in the hopes of divining a future lover.

And the glow-worm came With its silvery flame, And sparkled and shone Through the night of St. John, And soon has the young maid her love-knot tied.

There are also many mythical associations with the summer solstice, not the least of which concerns the seasonal life of the God of the sun. Inasmuch as I believe that I have recently discovered certain associations and correspondences not hitherto realized, I have elected to treat this subject in some depth in my ‘Death of Llew’ essay. Suffice it to say here, that I disagree with the generally accepted idea that the Sun God meets his death at the summer solstice. I believe there is good reason to see the Sun God at his zenith—his peak of power—on this day, and that his death at the hands of his rival would not occur for another quarter of a year. Material drawn from the Welsh mythos seems to support this thesis. In Irish mythology, midsummer is the occasion of the first battle between the Fir Bolgs and the Tuatha De Danaan.

Altogether, Midsummer is a favorite holiday for many Witches in that it is so hospitable to outdoor celebrations. The warm summer night seems to invite it. And if the celebrants are not, in fact, skyclad, then you may be fairly certain that the long ritual robes of winter have yielded place to short, tunic-style apparel. As with the longer gowns, tradition dictates that one should wear nothing underneath—the next best thing to skyclad, to be sure. (Incidentally, now you know the real answer to the old Scottish joke, “What is worn beneath the kilt?”)

The two chief icons of the holiday are the spear (symbol of the Sun God in his glory) and the summer cauldron (symbol of the Goddess in her bounty). The precise meaning of these two symbols, which I believe I have recently discovered, will be explored in the essay on the death of Llew. But it is interesting to note here that modern Witches often use these same symbols in their Midsummer rituals. And one occasionally hears the alternative consecration formula, “As the spear is to the male, so the cauldron is to the female.” With these mythic associations, it is no wonder that Midsummer is such a joyous and magical occasion!

RHYMING CHARGE OF THE GODDESS

I am the harmonious tune of the songbirdAnd the laughter of a gleeful child. I am the bubbling sound of the running brook And the scent of the flowers wild.

I am the floating leaf upon the breeze And the dancing fire in the forest glade. I am the sweet smell of rains upon the soil. And the rapture of passion when love is made.

I am the germination of seed in the Spring And the ripening of wheat in the Sun. I am the peaceful depth of the twilight That soothes the soul when day is done.

I am found in the twinkling of an aged eye… And found in the birth of a newborn pup… Yes…Birth and Growth and Death, am I I am the gracious Earth, on whom you sup.

I am your sister, your mother, the wise one. I wrap you gently in the warmth of my love. That which your seek you shall find within: Not without…not below…not above! Remember always, my children, be reverent. Be gentle, loving and kind to each other And hold sacred the Earth and its creatures: For I am the Lady: Creatrix and Mother!

-Kalioppe-

June 7 – Daily Feast

Confession may be good for the soul, but it seldom makes the one that heard it feel good. The nee to clear the air or get something out in the open can cause a bigger rift than the reason for confessing in the first place. Words cannot be retrieved once they are spoken. They are gone and calling them back is impossible. Some weigh on people’s hearts like hi lv s gi nv ya, many stones or heavy rock. Some are flung, like di ga it s di, a spear, to wound. And most should never have been spoken. Life and death are in the use of words. If we feel the need to confess something, we should do it where the listener knows how to handle what we say. It is an unthinking person that needs to be relieved of a burden to the point of putting it on someone who may find it hard to bear.
~ He knew his words were bad; he trembled like the oak whose roots have been wasted by many rains. ~

KEOKUK
‘A Cherokee Feast of Days’, by Joyce Sequichie Hifler
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Daily Motivator for June 7th – Disappointments of the past

What has already happened before is not what will happen next. Because right now, you have the opportunity to change direction.

If you’re moving in a positive and fruitful direction, you can choose to keep going that way, and even to accelerate your progress. Or, if you’ve experienced difficulty and disappointment in the past, this is your time to make a change.

When you focus on what’s already happened, it can be easy to feel permanently stuck in a bad place. So focus instead on the fact that you can, right now, choose a more positive direction.

Today is a new day, and it is your day to live in the best way you can imagine. It is your day to move in precisely the direction you choose.

Though rising above a difficult past will require great effort and commitment on your part, you certainly can do it. And there’s no better way to spend your time than making your way forward and permanently locking your disappointments in the past.

The disappointments of the past will begin to fade away as soon as you let go of them. Let go, look forward, and know that you can make this next day the best one yet.

— Ralph Marston

The Daily Motivator

Aridu

Based On The Hymn To Ishtar From Acadia

Lord of sun and lady moon Bright at night and bright at noon See my offering, hear my call Lord and lady guard us all.

Sky god an, earth goddess ki All do honor unto thee Spread your seed upon the ground Bring forth life fecund and round

Holy queen of living things She whose bloom the summer brings Bless us lady give us cheer As we wander through the year

Royal shepherd, mountain king Lofty bull of whom we sing Fill our bowls with waters sweet Spread the seeds of corn and wheat

Bless our lips and bless our breast Guide us gently to our rest Bless our sheep and bless our corn Ease our grief when we must mourn

Sing the song and join the rite Praise the day and bless the night Thank the gods for what they bear Earth and water, fire and air.

Good Tuesday To You, My Beloved Friends & Family!

Good afternoon, dear friends and family! I am so sorry for running late but right now my son has moved back home. So my life is tore all to pieces. His heart is broken and I beg of you my dear friends, please include him in your prayers and thoughts. I never have known the heartache I have experienced in the past 24 hours. Keep all of us in your prayers please. I have asked the Goddess to comfort him and ease his broken heart. I have faith She will do exactly that. But please remember us, in your prayers. I would be eternally grateful.

Now let’s start this day off on a much lighter note. A Celtic blessing from me to you. Good day, my dear friends & family!

Brighid of the Mantle, encompass us,
Lady of the Lambs, protect us,
Keeper of the Hearth, kindle us.
Beneath your mantle, gather us,
And restore us to memory.

Mothers of our mother,
Foremothers strong.
Guide our hands in yours,
Remind us how
To kindle the hearth.
To keep it bright,
To preserve the flame.
Your hands upon ours,
Our hands within yours,
To kindle the light,
Both day and night.

The Mantle of Brighid about us,
The Memory of Brighid within us,
The Protection of Brighid keeping us
From harm, from ignorance, from heartlessness.
This day and night,
From dawn till dark,
From dark till dawn.

Celtic Blessings

A Celtic Blessing To All My Dear Friends, Blessed Be!

May love and laughter light your days,
and warm your heart and home.
May good and faithful friends be yours,
wherever you may roam.
May peace and plenty bless your world
with joy that long endures.
May all life’s passing seasons
bring the best to you and yours!

Peace to you and yours, all your days long,

Lady A

Magickal Graphics

Calendar of the Sun for Saturday, June 2

2 Lithemonath

Juno Regina’s Day: Queenship Rite

Colors: Purple and gold
Element: Air
Altar: Upon cloth of purple and gold set two purple candles in gold holders, a woman’s crown, peacock feathers, and eight golden stars.
Offerings: Take on a leadership position, if you are female. Follow a woman’s lead, if male.
Daily Meal: Whatever the women in the House want, if they can agree.

Juno Regina Invocation

Great Queen of Heaven,
Ruler of all the Gods,
Lady clothed in light,
You name, Juno, once meant
The indwelling spirit of inspiration
That lives in every woman.
And in every woman is the inner Queen
That you embody and enspirit,
The feminine hand of authority
That is Mother, and yet not mother,
That is Virgin, and yet not virgin,
That is both power and compassion,
Both beauty and strength.
Queen of heaven, we celebrate your Queenship
As it gives us our inspiration;
Have mercy on us as we go through our days,
And judge us lightly in the end.

Chant:
Juno Regina Domina

(One who has been chosen to do the work of the ritual takes the crown in their hands and walks around the circle. If any woman feels moved to take on a leadership position, she can on this day step forward and kneel. The crown is placed on her head, and this is a symbol that she is asking to take on more responsibility. This offer cannot be refused, although the House Mama or Papa has discretion as to her future duties.)

[Pagan Book of Hours]

the daily humorscopes for thursday, may 31st

the daily humorscope

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Aries (March 21 – April 19)

Today you will take comfort in the thought that Jesus loves you, particularly since nobody else likes you very much.

Taurus (April 20 – May 20)

Today you will discover that you can amuse your friends by pretending that your hand is a tsetse fly, and “walking” it along the table. Your friends are easily amused, as it turns out.

Gemini (May 21 – June 20)

Your friend will betray you today, and will hide from you under office furniture. Hey, don’t ask me. I just see the future, I don’t explain it.

Cancer (June 21 – July 22)

A swarm of rats will sneak up on you, and you will be suddenly engulfed in a squeaking, biting, torrent of rabid vermin. Oops! No, ha ha, looks like I forgot about the influence of Venus, didn’t I? Sorry. Hmmm. Ok…actually, today you will have pizza.

Leo (July 23 – August 22)

Today, everyone around you will make you severely annoyed. The important thing is to remember that, in the long run, they’re all dead.

Virgo (August 23 – September 22)

Uh oh. The cows have come home, and the fat lady is about to sing. Better come up with some new excuses, quick! You can do that while you’re coping with the unpleasant result of the cows coming home.

Libra (September 23 – October 22)

You’ve been getting tired of the same old “look”, day after day. Maybe you should get a tattoo? I’ll bet people with tattoos never get tired of ’em!

Scorpio (October 23 – November 21)

You will come up with a theory about people – that you can learn a lot about them, simply by removing the first letter of their name. For example, Ron -> On. That’s why I’m on-line. That also explains why Hugh acts so primitive, sometimes. And if I were you, I’d avoid Alice.

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)

Try not to be too impulsive, today. Ask yourself if you really need that howitzer, or if you just think it’d be fun to have.

Capricorn (December 22 – January 20)

Unaccountably, everything you eat will remind you of wild hickory nuts. This is the first sign of Gibbon’s Syndrome, and you should seek immediate medical attention. You don’t want to end up getting arrested for eating your neighbor’s shrubbery…

Aquarius (January 21 – February 18)

You’ve been trying to sell your car, and it just isn’t going anywhere. Sometimes it helps if you have a name for your vehicle, to give it more character. I call mine the “Millenium Falcon”. My passengers often become irritated at being called “Chewie”, though.

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)

You’re getting a little carried away with the idea of selling banner ads to make extra cash. On the other hand, a totally bare forehead is a bit of a waste of space…

Have Back-To-Work Tuesday, I Know But Friday Is Only 4 Days Away, lol!

A Traditional Scottish Blessing.

World peace may feel unattainable, but truly it can all start with each one of us. Read this inspiring ancient Celtic blessing that shows us the way:

If there is righteousness in the heart

If there is righteousness in the heart,
there will be beauty in the character.
If there is beauty in the character,
there will be harmony in the home.
If there is harmony in the home,
there will be order in the nation.

If there is order in the nation,
there will be peace in the world.
So let it be.
-Scottish Blessing

Magickal Graphics

Ward Off Evil

To ward off evil spirits or energy:

In a small jar, place sage, sandalwood, galangal and brimstone herbs. Mix well and sprinkle sea salt on top. Cute a three inch piece of red string, and tie one knot into it, and place it in the jar. Next, place three pins or nails in the jar and close it shut. Light a black candle and say:

“Pins that price, herbs and string, to protect me now, my angels do sing!”

Hide the jar in a dark place to ward off evil.

For the Goddess So Loved the World

For the Goddess So Loved the World

Author: Jeffe
It had always been my dream to own my own house, with a yard and lots of trees. To have nature in my backyard, teeming with life, and a garden of vegetables I would tend to feed my family. It would connect me more to the Earth, far more than did the apartments and condos I’d been living in for the better part of two decades. But such conquests often come with doomful forebodings.

“That lawn isn’t going to mow itself, ” my Dad warned. “And just wait until the snow starts piling up!”

Dad had been there. Nobody’s quite sure where “there” is, exactly, but one look from Dad told me I’d know I was “there” when I got “there.” Shoveling snow with my father is actually one of my fondest memories of childhood, but therein lies the difference between a child’s memory and an adult’s. I remember it as playing in the snow with Dad, and Mom serving us hot cocoa when we came in. For Dad, it was hard work. These days, my father still perceives nature as work, while I see it as divinity.

This thirty-something Pagan, yours truly, hasn’t always been a city dweller. My graduate studies began at age nineteen, plucking me from the country home where my Mom and Dad raised me. My studies were followed by instructor and professor positions at several universities, all of them in the middle of cities. I lived in a series of apartments and condos. Nature had become a destination, an excursion, a break from the norm. I longed for it to be part of my everyday life again.

Shortly after Samhain of 2008, I finally got my house wish. My wife and newborn son and I moved into the first house we’ve ever owned. We had navigated the troubled waters of the depressed housing market to find a good deal on the perfect house in an area with award-winning schools. If you look up our house on Google Earth, you’ll see our yard has by far the most trees for blocks around. Squirrels, birds, rabbits, raccoons, and at least one groundhog are regular visitors. Ducks and crows pop in from time to time. Of course, most of them enjoy my garden a little too much, and apparently there’s a neighborhood skunk who likes to dig up grubs in the yard at night, but that’s alright – I’ll take a little bad with the good.

During the unpacking process, our computers had emerged first, a necessity since my wife and I both teach for a living. But we had yet to set up wireless or any other office stuff. Just on a lark one evening, I tried to search for a local wireless connection. With a little luck, I might be able to piggyback someone else’s signal long enough to check my work e-mail.

There was one wireless network available; a secure networked named “John316.” Perhaps the most famous Bible verse of them all. The verse well-known for its appearances in sports arenas. For its mystical ability to change the course of a football or baseball in mid-air.

“Oh great, ” I thought. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will have high-speed internet.” Like many eclectic Pagans, I’m actually quite well versed in the Bible, as well as numerous other spiritual texts. Blame it on a Catholic upbringing, or several Theology classes in undergraduate school. I like to keep as many doors to wisdom open as possible.

I thought it was a tacky name for an Internet server, until I remembered the numbers of Witches and Pagans I’d met who’d named their pets Merlin, or Lilith, or Hex. Glass houses and all that. I pictured the neighborhood in my mind, and narrowed it down to three houses close enough for their wireless signal to reach us. There were no outward clues to spoil my shell game of “Find the Evangelical, ” but I was sure I would learn soon.

I confess to having felt a little apprehensive about my new neighbors. As a mathematics professor at a Jesuit University, I’d met more than my share of avid Evangelicals. One year, after introducing myself and handing out the syllabus on the first day of class, I asked the class if they had any questions. One student stood bolt upright and asked, “Have you accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as your personal savior?”

“Um … does anyone have any ‘math’ questions?” I responded.

Call it an irrational fear, but I admit that it hung in the back of mind, for weeks to come: that being open about who I am and how I live might make me target. Not a target of violence, mind you, but a target of general disdain. The “black sheep” of the neighborhood. I envisioned my children someday being gawked at or picked on by the other children at the playground.

There is certain vulnerability inherent in the practice of a religious path that differs from the community norm. It takes courage to be yourself amidst strangers.

A few months passed, and I had enjoyed Yule, just before celebrating Christmas with the rest of family (everyone else in my family is Christian, Catholic mostly) . It was early January when the first monster storm of winter hit the Detroit area. My northern suburb tallied fifteen inches of snow, which came in three nearly equal waves over two days. My shovel was about to get some good use.

I soon learned that it takes me about 30 minutes to shovel 5 inches of snow off my driveway and sidewalks – quite the workout. For those who live far enough South to have not experienced the joys of snow shoveling, let me explain the effort involved. From a standing position, bend over and pick up a bowling ball. Then stand back up and toss it several feet to your left. Repeat this continually for 30 minutes. A quick tip – toss half of the balls in each direction, to even up the back strain.

When it was time for the second round of shoveling, I bundled back up and stepped out into the garage. My wife was out and my son had just settled in for a nap, so I put the baby monitor in my coat pocket. As the garage door went up and I put my boots on, I noticed curtains moving in the window of the large house across the street. I tried not to notice that I was being watched, and set to my labors.

A few minutes into shoveling, out came the neighbor, similarly bundled and pushing his new snow blower. I waved hello and he waved back. By the time I was halfway done shoveling, he had completely finished removing all of his snow, about twice as much as mine, without much effort. I pretended not to notice as he went back into his garage for a few minutes, talking to someone just out of sight, looking over at me now and then.

Finally he came over, with the blower, and with a few arm gestures asked if I’d like some help. I was happy for it, and together we quickly finished off my shoveling and did a little of another neighbor’s. I shook his hand and invited him for a warm-up coffee, and we introduced ourselves. I can’t remember his name, possibly because this is the only time we’ve ever spoken – I’ll just refer to him as “John316.”

John wasted no time and immediately started talking about the Bible Study his family had hosted the night before. I smiled as I poured the coffees. It quickly became clear that he had what I jokingly refer to as “Jesus Tourette’s” … the inability to have a two-minute conversation without mentioning Jesus three times. It’s the Christian version of “Pagan Tourette’s” … I define this as the inability to attend a Pagan meet-up in normal clothing and without mystical jewelry or flair.

John began steering the conversation in ways intended to draw out whether I was a Christian. I probably could have nimbly avoided his transparent attempts for hours, but I decided not to torment him. I let him know who I am. To blunt the trauma suddenly apparent on his face, I told him that I have a lot of respect for Christians who do Bible Studies. And that’s the truth.

Anytime people get together and talk about their faith and its literature, and then think about the moral and ethical implications, they are far more likely to learn something than if they just listen to a preacher. We could all take a lesson in that.

I have to say I enjoyed the conversation immensely. It’s so rare that I get to talk to someone about a spiritual text that we’ve both studied profusely. Any awkwardness was probably from the difference of our viewpoints. For him, the Bible is indisputable truth, laying down the laws and guidelines for the one true path to salvation. For me, it’s a storybook full of Middle Eastern history, both pacifistic and militaristic philosophies, poetry and prose, and fables that sometimes bear pearls of wisdom.

And let’s admit it, the book of Revelations is just plain cool.

He never discussed anything about Paganism, or Witchcraft, or the occult. He wasn’t interested in my faith at all – he just wanted to tell me about his, on the assumption that his way should be everyone’s way. And that’s fine with me. Pagan tolerance and acceptance means letting people be whoever they need to be, so long as they aren’t harming themselves or others. He was doing me no harm; in fact, from his perspective, his intentions were noble and good.

John needed to “witness” to me, so I let him. I think it’s important, as Pagans, to recognize that there are no wrong gods or goddesses, so long as their worshippers use them to try to become better people.

Our back-and-forth banter continued for about forty minutes. He seemed excited to meet a non-Christian could talk about obscure parables, the authors and histories of the lesser known books, and of course the “End Times.” But he also seemed a little angry that I could have studied the book so thoroughly without accepting it as absolute truth. It was as though he wanted to like me, but couldn’t accept me because I don’t fit into his working definition of “good person.”

Finally, perhaps mercifully, my son woke up from his nap. John shook my hand, thanked me for the coffee, and left.

“Have a blessed day, ” he called over his shoulder, with a tone of irritation and resignation, as he pulled the door shut behind him.

“Blessed day ever, ” I thought, wondering whether I’d made a begrudging new friend.

Apparently not. We haven’t spoken since, and he seldom returns a wave.

His wife once approached my wife, to gossip about that awful Mr. Obama and all the bad things he has planned for our troops. My wife, to her credit, exhibited amazing restraint.

“I feel like they’re constantly judging us, ” my wife has told me, on more than one occasion.

That’s a strange thought, considering that John and his family never interact with us in any way. But I feel it too. It’s hard to say how much of it exists just in our heads. I can’t help but wonder what discussions they have about us. I have the feeling that they look down us, but the irony is that by making this assumption about them, I am in fact passing judgment on them.

It saddens me somewhat, but I take comfort in the little, normal rivalries we neighbors have. John’s lawn is a point of pride for him, and my yard is an altar for me. I see him on his porch sometimes, watching me gather up fallen twigs before I mow the lawn. And in the winter, whenever it snows heavily, he seems to wait until I’m shoveling before he starts, just so I can see him finish faster and more easily.

I catch a shadow of a smirk on his face sometimes, as though he’s thinking, “Look how easy it is when you have the right tools.” In my head, I respond, “Look how nice it is to exercise and be in shape.”

And that’s terrific! That’s normal neighbor stuff. I take it as an affirmation that I’m not considered a pox on humanity.

Tolerance doesn’t always begin with a welcome basket and an invitation to dinner. Sometimes it begins with a few people being just as irritated with each other as they are with everyone else. That’s human nature, and it’s messy, and sticky, and beautiful. Amen.

Footnotes:
The Bible, John 3:16 (paraphrased)

May 24 – Daily Feast

A thick layer of doubt like fog across the hilltops, can shut out the light. Without light, we are depleted of energy and vitality – and eventually hope. An elderly Cherokee woman said, “It is true that the Cherokee suffered when their houses and gardens and very way of life were taken from them. We loved the land and trees and treated them as family. It was not the Great Holy Spirit that caused it. It was the a s ga na (wickedness) of the world.” It seems that no good time exists when we can despair. The Cherokees still dance – but to the Great Spirit in gratitude, the way David danced before the Lord. And it is high time we shout and clap our hands right in the face of trouble.

~ You have said to me….that I could send out a voice four times….and you could hear me. Today I send a voice for a people in despair. ~

BLACK ELK

‘A Cherokee Feast of Days’, by Joyce Sequichie Hifler

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WICCA ñ CONDENSED VERSION

We believe that the ultimate godhead is unknowable. This doesn’t
make for a good working relationship with the diety, however. So, we break
it down into a Goddess and a God. Different Wiccans worship different
Gods/Goddesses. We can utilize *any* pantheon. Some worship Pan/Diana, some
Cernnunos/Aradia, Isis/Osiris, and many others.

We see our Goddess as being Triple Aspected — Maiden, Mother, and
Crone, and she is reflected in the phases of the Moon — Waxing, Full and
Waning. We see the God as the Lord of Nature, and he is reflected in the
seasonal changes. Like Jesus Christ, he dies for the land and the people,
and is reborn.

In general, we believe in reincarnation and karma. What you call
Heaven, we call the Summerlands. We don’t believe that Hell exists (or Satan
either.) We believe that there should be balance in all things – when the
balance is disturbed, that’s when ‘evil’ occurs. Fire, for example is not
‘evil’. It could be considered such when it becomes out of balance, as in a
forest fire, or house fire. Controlled fire is a useful tool. Anger is not
‘evil’, but when unbridled can’t help but lead to negative things. When
properly expressed and balanced with constructive working to correct that
which invoked the anger – it, too, can be a useful tool.

We regard the Earth as our Mother, and try to have respect for Her
by not polluting her and try to live in harmony with Her and Her ways.

Women reflect the Goddess, Men reflect the God, so the Wicca have a
Priestess and Priest to ‘run’ the religious services. We call our services
circles.

This was sort of an “Reader’s Digest Condensed Version” of Wicca.

The Pentagram: A New Look At An Old Star

The Pentagram: A New Look At An Old Star

Author: Miles Pendry

As a High Priest and Witch of twenty-seven seasons, I have often been asked by curious individuals to explain the meaning of the pentagram I wear. I usually reply with the generally accepted explanation of how each of the five points of the star represents the five primal elements in balance and harmony in an enclosing circle.

If I am in a particularly talkative mood, I will usually expand upon the pentagram’s representation of mankind as reflected in both the microcosm and macrocosm. There is, however, a deeper and more personal definition that I am moved to share during this season. A byproduct, I imagine, of my current funk of introspection and preparation for hibernation. Or, as Ebenezer Scrooge (of Dickens’s Christmas Carol) might explain, “maybe an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato”.

As I sit contemplating my pentagram, I realize how it means much more to me than a symbol of my belief as a Witch. It is far more than a map of the elemental alignments and universal harmony. It also represents hope, and a shining light to a small child lost in the darkness of his life…of my past.

As I consider this small silver star, I am reminded that the same stars shine over my head now as they have since the moment of my birth, more or less. When I look up into the darkness of a cold, black, New Hampshire night sky, those same stars shine back, impassive, unblinking, and unchanging.

I stand many miles and many years beyond where I stood watching those stars of my youth. The seasons at my feet cycle past…Beltane to Samhain and back again. The Wheel of the Year spins faster and faster with each passing season, each turn spinning the years dizzyingly past. Yet the stars above remain indifferent. I think that is why I continue to wear my pentagram to this day. It reflects the one stable, constant, immutable element in my otherwise chaotic life.

I remember as a child, standing alone in the cornfields of the Midwest at night, looking upwards and sensing an unreachable, untouchable greatness, of a cold, distant presence that was uncaring, yet perpetual and unchanging. I think that if there was an aspect of the Gods that I most honor to this day, it would be that distant, unvarying constant and a knowing that something in my life was stable.

With parents who were both physically and emotionally abusive, who uprooted and moved me almost every year so that I could never put down roots or make friends or develop any sense of security, it was comforting to have a quiet, isolated place to run to and a star to hold onto.

The pentagram means far more to me than the five traditional elements it represents, deeper still than the circle of the microcosm/macrocosm of man. The pentagram to me will always represent those stars in that cold, unchanging night sky that I, as a child, looked up towards so many years ago and cried for a little bit of stability to steady my footing as my life sped out of control around me.

I was emotionally raw, stripped bare, unable to tolerate any degree of emotional contact. Wounded as I was, I did not need or want love or intimacy. I felt lost, powerless and unable to control my direction or destiny. The ship of my life was adrift in an ocean of fear, confusion and pain.

I wanted and needed a star to follow, a constant, unwavering light to guide me out of my darkness.

Some people call that light “Jesus” and walk a Christian path. Some people choose to meditate on the light and speak its sacred name “Ohm”. Others still may call that light “Allah” and pray to it five times a day.

As for me, it makes no difference what you name the light, or what religious text you lay before you. Religions change. Old Gods die. New gods are invented and venerated.

A thousand years go by, and it’s Jesus instead of Jupiter. A thousand more years go by, and it’s Money instead of Marduk. Our culture’s concept of God is continually deconstructed and reinvented, sometimes out of necessity, sometimes out of convenience and almost always for somebody’s profit.

But my star still shines in the night sky.

That distant star doesn’t love me. I cannot have a close personal relationship with it. For all I know or care, that star is not even aware or capable of knowing I exist… let alone give a damn about how I live my life, whether or not I give that life to it or if I try to convince others to give their lives to it. More than likely, it is (as described by They Might Be Giants) a swirling mass of incandescent gas. It just shines, nothing more.

But I look to it and honor it all the same…perhaps even more so because of its indifference. My star is there for me when I look up every night. It will be there when and if I remember to look up tomorrow. That is more than I can say about any other person, place, or material thing in my life.

Seasons change, people change, and the world as we know it moves on; but tonight I know my star will still be there in the sky above, shining, regardless of whether I am looking at it or not. (I am human, after all, and sometimes I forget to take the time to look up.)

They say that in time, even stars must die. After all, supernovas are an accepted scientific fact. That may be true. My star might eventually grow old and tired, and burn out in a final flash of glory.

But it won’t happen in my lifetime, and when it does finally happen, I don’t plan on being here to worry about it.

Shine on!

Daily OM for May 10 – Finding Peace Within

Finding Peace Within
A Full Embrace Excluding Nothing

by Madisyn Taylor

If we are to have true peace in the world, we must first find it within ourselves.

Most people agree that a more peaceful world would be an ideal situation for all living creatures. However, we often seem stumped as to how to bring this ideal situation into being. If we are to have true peace in this world, each one of us must find it in ourselves first. If we don’t like ourselves, for example, we probably won’t like those around us. If we are in a constant state of inner conflict, then we will probably manifest conflict in the world. If we have fighting within our families, there can be no peace in the world. We must shine the light of inquiry on our internal struggles, because this is the only place we can really create change.

When we initiate the process of looking inside ourselves for the meaning of peace, we will begin to understand why it has always been so difficult to come by. This in itself will enable us to be compassionate toward the many people in the world who find themselves caught up in conflicts both personal and universal. We may have an experience of peace that we can call up in ourselves to remind us of what we want to create, but if we are human we will also feel the pull in the opposite direction—the desire to defend ourselves, to keep what we feel belongs to us, to protect our loved ones and our cherished ideals, and the anger we feel when threatened. This awareness is important because we cannot truly know peace until we understand the many tendencies and passions that threaten our ability to find it. Peace necessarily includes, even as it transcends, all of our primal energy, much of which has been expressed in ways that contradict peace.

Being at peace with ourselves is not about denying or rejecting any part of ourselves. On the contrary, in order to be at peace we must be willing and able to hold ourselves, in all our complexity, in a full embrace that excludes nothing. This is perhaps the most difficult part for many of us, because we want so much to disown the negative aspects of our humanity. Ironically, though, true peace begins with a willingness to take responsibility for our humanity so that we might ultimately transform it in the light of our love.

May 9 – Daily Feast

Sentences half spoken and beyond total hearing are the source of difficulty. Only in the bright light of reason and understanding can these cloudy mishaps be corrected. Some are simply tuned to hear the negative – even when it was never intended to be. They hear with an ear that is already bent toward trouble and only too willing to pass it on. We might consider what we want to hear – because everyone has moments when words tumble out with little meaning. Whether it is a slip of the tongue or simply filling in a quiet spell, we are sometimes guilty of speaking when we should have been listening. The tongue is a little member and sometimes kindles quite a fire when it should spit on the matches.

~ We are becoming like them…..all talkers and no workers. ~

BLACK HAWK

‘A Cherokee Feast of Days’, by Joyce Sequichie Hifler

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My Path, My Truth

Author: Winterswan

I’ve thought often about writing an article such as this. There are so many different religious paths in existence in our world and so many venues available for spiritual research. I’m also familiar with the difficulty experienced by some of us when involved in the quest for a spiritual path that truly mirrors our mostly deeply held beliefs and understandings, as well as our heritages.

That said, I feel this piece needs to be written, although I will admit that I was hesitant to write it-hesitant to admit that I was not one of those people who immediately understood what I believed, chose a path, and stuck to it!

To provide the reader with a bit of my background and thus lay the groundwork for why my spiritual quest has been so involved and, at times, so difficult, I will tell you that I come from a family that is half Irish Catholic and half Jewish (although my Jewish grandmother was Irish).

I was raised with a strong connection to my Irish roots and feel most at home within Irish traditions in my current spiritual work. I am, in fact mostly Irish and have always longed to find a connection between my Celtic heritage and my spiritual path. Because I was raised with a sprinkling of combined Judao-Christian traditions, I was always open to different concepts of what a spiritual path could entail.

My father always advised me that it was important to have a belief system, but that it was more important to have a belief in God than it was to follow any one particular religion. Religion was never forced upon me and any knowledge gleaned was the result of my own initiative.

I was first introduced to God/Goddess traditions during my first year of college. I naturally gravitated toward the closeness with nature and emphasis on feminine/masculine energy as an equal balance that these paths offered.

At the time, however, I was involved in largely selfish endeavors and don’t feel that I was really able to make the connection with true spirit. I believe that becoming close to the Lord and Lady involves a level of being able to truly and deeply give of one’s self.

Living a happy spiritual life requires being willing to do more than simply cast spells to make one’s own life more satisfying (although I do believe that the God/Goddess does want us to be happy as individuals and to live prosperous lives).

I drifted for awhile, always reading books and trying to learn more about the path I was trying to walk but never really engaging; I never celebrated the various holidays of which I am now so wonderfully aware, never cast a circle to celebrate Imbolc, Litha, etc.

Thus, I never became fully immersed in the Pagan life; I never really connected to that part of me that’s made of spirit and never made a real connection with the spirits who govern the elements. I think that I believed that they existed, but I never spent enough time outside of myself to be able to really reach out to them or to the God/Goddess whose illuminating presence I feel today.

Over the years, I studied both Catholicism and Judaism. Some of the traditions of both religions were interesting and even beautiful, but neither spoke to me wholly. Neither encouraged a belief in the Fair Folk who I just knew lived in my gardens, or a belief in the spirit guides and wise ancestors who I today feel guide my readings when I turn to Tarot to help answer some of the difficult questions life throws in my direction and who are always with me offering their wisdom and protection.

I flip flopped for years between both, feeling like somewhere along the way I would have a breakthrough, a “white light” experience which would show me which path I was supposed to take. I felt like because I’d been born into these two religions they belonged to me somehow, but I was forever torn because I could identify with aspects of both but not the complete ideology of either.

Before my daughter was born in 2004 I knew that I needed to make a decision with regard to which spiritual path fit me best. Because Judaism encouraged the delving and question asking that Christianity seemed to discourage, I chose that as my path. I went to synagogue, lit candles on Shabbat, whispered guided prayers, and looked for confirmation from the Higher Power that I was on the “right track”.

Still, something was missing.

I was going through the motions but still not feeling wholly engaged. I would attend services at the synagogue and, although the people there were for the most part kind and friendly, I didn’t feel a true part of the whole scene.

I believed in tattooing as a connection to the world of spirit but I had to hide my body art when attending religious services. I possessed a freedom of spirit, which felt crushed by the dogmas of Judaism; I was being told that modest dress was required of me but I didn’t feel comfortable or natural wearing “modest” clothing.

I didn’t view my body as ugly or my sexuality as scary thing. I didn’t see magic as an instrument of evil and I didn’t feel that people who were homosexual were unnatural or unloved by the Blessed Ones of the Universe.

I saw my homeland not as Israel, but as Ireland. I once joked with my husband that I felt guilty feeling that if I had a choice of anyplace to where I could travel, my choice would absolutely be blessed Eire. And, there were so many other beliefs that I felt I was compelled to follow without really believing them in my heart and soul.

In short, I felt a bit like a hypocrite, believing one thing and mouthing another, following rituals which were beautiful but not completely who I was.

Eventually, my longing for a return to my Celtic heritage drew me toward the religion of my husband, who is Catholic. I thought that maybe it would be easier for my daughter to be raised with two parents who believed the same thing.

I thought that I could go to church with my husband and soak up the elements of the Mass which reminded me of my Irish roots and focus on the traditions which were derived from Irish Pagan culture. In the end, of course, this brought me only a deeper sense of being a hypocrite and a further sense of unease.

As all the other congregants were staring at the huge likeness of Jesus on the cross hanging over the altar (an image which from the time I was a child I found horrific and violent), I was gazing with love at the statue of Mary, envisioning her as the Goddess rather than as the mother of God portrayed by the Catholic church.

I would cringe at various parts of the sermons, for although the priest spoke with a thick brogue, his words offered me little comfort. I found little of my own truth in the words I heard during those church going days, and felt suffocated by the dogmas being bandied about.

I felt like I was being mentally lashed for my own beliefs, but my Pagan beliefs felt so natural and so normal.

No one could make me believe that they were evil or wrong, for I knew that they were coming from a place of love and peace. At this point in my life, I knew my own spirit enough to understand that I couldn’t be a horrible person simply because the church said being a Witch was evil; my ideas couldn’t be completely off base just because they didn’t correspond to how I was being advised that I should think and feel and behave.

In my heart, I was a Celtic woman of the wild, and I loved that. I could NOT let that go at any cost.

In the end, I returned to the Pagan roots that I explored during my college years, although on a much deeper level. In them, I find truth and comfort. I find a natural avenue toward the spirit. I feel enriched by the connection I have with the earth and with the elements, by the uninhibited connection I feel with my wise ancestors and my spirit guides.

I know that I don’t need to feel guilty about the spiritual gifts I’ve been given, gifts I feel we all possess but that we can’t all access because we’ve been told by certain organized religions that they are a pathway to Satan, or whatever.

I hate that there are religions out there that cause people to feel guilty for being different, for being gay, for being lesbian, for being able to communicate with the animal world and see that world as equal to the human one. For trying to force people into unnatural behaviors and stirring up hatred deep within the depths of humanity by telling people it’s their duty to convert “non-believers” and even, in some cases, to kill those who refuse to repent to their religions.

My religion is one of love and tolerance. I believe strongly in the law of return and in sending out good, positive energy. I believe in love as the only real pathway to understanding others and to relating to the world in a creative rather than in a destructive way.

I want to raise my daughter as a free little spirit, to nurture a belief in the magic and wonder of the world (and the otherworld) that she naturally, as a small child, believes to be real. I want to teach her that it’s important to be concerned about the health of our environment and that it’s important to stand up and speak out when events are unfolding that she knows are unjust.

I want to teach her that there is something inherently wonderful about being a woman, and that the discrimination she might face at the hands of those whose religions tell her that women are somehow inferior to the male species are wrong (and, oftentimes, very misguided).

My sense of wonder has been renewed and at last I feel wholly able to connect on a spiritual level. My hope is that this piece might help others who have experienced similar quandaries with regard to their faith. There is no need to be afraid of what you know in your heart to be your truth.

The Lord and Lady are waiting patiently for you to reach out and let go of your fears, guilt, and shame.

Once you’ve set your spirit free to wander the beautiful path offered by them (whatever your own particular path might be-there are so many fabulous ways of connecting to spirit within the Pagan community), you will find that the universe is a magical place indeed.

Brightest of blessings.

–Winterswan

Embraced by the Goddess

Author: Elwin Shadowstrider

Originally I was planning to place this in my Book of Mirrors, as you see; I changed my mind for many reasons. Some were to let others know of a beautiful life-changing event that forever changed me. I felt that to some it may help, for others maybe just to remind them of when they first set their own two feet on their Path.

Without a short background some of this will not make any sense at all, I will not go into gory detail. Some things are very tragic, some of those things I draw a great deal of strength from. However, my childhood was beyond horrible, abuse was prevalent, both physical and mental abuse. A great deal seems to come from Stephen King’s worst nightmares.

I have been asked many times by those who know me well how I did not become badly damaged goods…I attribute that to strength of will. I refuse to give up, especially when I know there are greater things out there than what I have to experience at that moment in time then. In time, I proved myself right, as you will see.

I was forced as a child to attend church; I really had no interest in going. They never could answer my questions to my satisfaction. The usual Cain slew Abel, then where did his wife come from if there were only four people on this planet at that time? Many explained that it was more than likely his sister, which I went up in flames then. Letting them know that only last week we were told that was forbidden to lie with your sister or brother. Or was it just holier then than it is now? You get the picture; I was seven when this took place.

My parents were begged not to bring me back to Sunday school. They said that I asked questions that no normal seven year old should ask, and that I should take more on “faith” and to be still and be quiet when the teacher was talking. I felt they were legitimate questions and still do, no pastor or otherwise could ever answer what I asked.

Many referred me to so and so apologetic pastor or seminary college since I was so questioning within the “faith”. Faith, no, I wanted clear concise answers as to WHY these things I was to take on “faith” had to not be asked. Too many holes within their stories and parables, I wanted straight facts that they were not equipped to give.

My teen years were pretty much the same; I was honestly kept as a house slave or servant, I was allowed no bed of my own, any furniture, and the least expensive clothes they could find and was told that it was “good” for my soul.

That got really old really quick, I grew up in Miami, Florida, and I had no air conditioning in my room either. The rest of the household had everything; this is just to give you an idea. By now, I had finally begged and cried to this “god” for deliverance, anything, just I wanted out of this household.

I begged for many years, all I got in return was silence…no answers.

I thought at first maybe I was “imperfect”, a “sinner” and god wanted nothing to do with me; just like everyone else in my life then. My despair began to grow to stellar heights, just what was I supposed to do? I left my Dad’s house when I was sixteen; I refused to put up with it any longer.

As the years passed as years will, I occasionally begged “god” for help, by now, I have been begging for years, still, no answer. I sought “help” from pastors; I got the usual praying over, and one even suggested performing an exorcism on me to cast out any “evil spirits” that might have taken up residence within.

Being that my family is from central Ireland we were brought up to trust and believe the clergy. Mostly Catholics, a few Protestants, was what ran in my family. I never could understand just how they could take so much on faith and let it go at that.

I was the one who always read everything, but my favorites still to this day is the “Sword and Sorcery” type epics that I learned so much from. I was the cast off, the one who believed that the Elves still existed and Dragons were around the next corner; during what free time I could steal away I walked the woods, searching for something, just what I never knew then.

What I didn’t know was that our beloved Green Man was whispering to me all that time. There were days I could almost hear what He was saying, almost; but not quite getting it.

Often, I just shrugged my shoulders and continued on, learning what so many just didn’t see. To learn of beauty, to know some small peace in my life. To see animals as more of my friends than Man, to know trees, to breathe in what I needed. In these times I didn’t feel lost at all, I felt at home then.

Here I will leave the past behind, these memories are very painful in ways, but I learned how to be what many never do, Human. To know the fullness of sorrow, anger, and hatred is something I do not recommend to anyone. Better to not know the fullness of what those emotions can do to a person, the hardness in can put in place of what should be someone’s heart.

This is when I looked back on my life, and wanted to know why, just why, “god” never answered me. Why my life was, so far, was so cold inside, why can’t I be happy like so many others here in this world?

Despair grew yet again, yet despair this time was very deep. It lasted for many months instead of just a few days.

I once again went to begging “god” for answers, help, anything; just one answer is all I required, just one. It never came, that answer. Finally, I broke down, after thirty-six years of fighting I broke down.

I gave up, entirely. I had nothing else to believe in.

Yes, I do have a wife and son; I do have family of my own. I love them both very dearly. I wanted faith. I wanted faith to believe in myself, to believe that when this path here on earth is over there is something other than nothing. As I said, I broke down, I wanted nothing anymore, and I gave up.

With that, I began the soul wrenching crying that signified total defeat; “god” wasn’t there. I was truly lost, and that’s what broke my heart more than anything. I was lost.

During this time of defeat, a PRESCENSE is the only way I could begin to describe it. Something unbelievably beyond me, something that radiated Love, I really gave in then. I felt as if I should know who this was, but for some reason I didn’t.

Then in a voice that was VERY female, soft, full of understanding and infinite Love spoke to me, ” Why do you weep? Why is your heart so heavy within your breast? Where is the laughter that I love to hear from you? Where are your smiles?”

I was dumbfounded, I could only answer, “I am lost, god doesn’t answer me, I am alone here, and I want faith in the universe around me.”

She laughed, not a mocking laughter, one full of understanding, and Love. “I have known your ancestors, the Celts, I know you. Why is it you don’t know me?”

I answered, ” My lady, I don’t know you I wish I did, I am tired of not knowing anything.”

She answered, ” So you shall, you are my child, none other’s, you are my son. Love shall be yours.”

At that moment, all the years of hatred, anger, sorrow, animosity, and narrow-minded beliefs fell away, replaced by Love. I fell to crying out of sheer joy and happiness.

At that, she laughed again, full of mirth, and joy that I did remember who She was at last. As I lay there my Goddess embraced me, not in the spiritual sense, it was very physical, yet I couldn’t see Her.

Her embrace was like nothing I have ever known in my life, for just one moment here on this plane of existence, I knew what it was like to Love all, to realize that Love was all my Goddess wanted from me; that and my laughter, my happiness.

Since that day, the Wiccan Rede is indelible upon me. I will harm NONE. I became a vegetarian; I refuse to harm anything, even so much as a bug outside.

My son (Goddess Bless him) came to me not two weeks ago and asked what was making me so happy, why I laughed at nearly everything now. I want to tell him, he’s only eleven, and I won’t alter his Path in life. When he gets a little older and he asks again, then I will tell him.

Just three days later, flying in the face of tradition, I gave myself to my Goddess. It’s been only five weeks from that wonderful day. I oath bound myself to Her, and laughed with Her when she accepted me as her child.

After the turn of events in the beginning of my life I had indeed proven myself right, that there are greater things out there. You just have to look in the right place sometimes.

There may be a few others out there who may have experienced something like this. I do not know, I do not claim to know. I know what gift was given to me, and that gift will be cherished until I see my Goddess yet again.

Please understand I have no hatred for the Christian religion. I have left hatred behind, and that is no longer who I am. I have many friends who are Christians; they know that I am a Witch, a Wiccan. They also know that I will never turn away from my Goddess; they know I will lovingly tell them that I have found my Path if they begin to preach at me.

I have also lost a great deal of friends who were too judgmental and walked away from me. Some of those were indeed painful, many were very good friends. Their children played with my son quite often, now I have yet to see them again.

I am at Peace with their choice; they too have a Path they must follow. As any Pagan, I just send them my Love from time to time. Many of my relatives also have nothing to do with me now, that too I have taken in Peace.

It is somewhat difficult to convey what exactly has happened to me. My life was filled with so much negative energies that I never believed that something such as this could really happen. Life has truly begun for me, to feel Love as never before, to Love all that I see. To feel the sense of the Spirit’s whisperings in all that is around me, to know and see indescribable beauty in all that my eyes behold.

The most fun part is to finally hear the Green Man’s laughter, to hear His dancing steps, to know His Love for all things that grow. I know who He is as well, no longer just whispers that I can’t quite catch, to hear His voice is truly wonderful. To also hear God’s voice in laughter with the Goddess’ laughter as I take my first tentative steps in Life, my heart is full.

There are days I wonder if I can really Love more than the day before, the answer is yes. Goddess, YES! Tears of true joy fall these days; the Goddess has embraced me. I have just scratched the surface of what I will know before I must return to Summerland.

I also no longer fear to die, I actually look forward to the day when I can return to all that knows me, to see those whom I know. To find so many there waiting for my return. I will also state I don’t think I will return to Mother Earth, I will stay in Summerland.

I know that I may return if I wish, however; I will stay. There is work to do there as well.

In closing, yes, I am indeed VERY new to Wicca; I have learned what Wiccan Pride is truly all about. I have learned what Love really is, what Peace, true Peace really is.

I have also learned what Magick is all about. Magick in one word, WOW! I had no real idea of what can be done; it’s real, and its mind blowing of what we can do with it.

I will leave you Sisters and Brothers here, know that one more Wiccan has joined your ranks. Thanks for taking the time to read of my experience with the Goddess. Know that She Loves us all; no matter what Path we take.

Merry Meet, Merry Partings until we Merry Meet again.

Abundant and Brightest Blessings to all,

Elwin Shadowstrider ) O (

The Daily Motivator for May 8th – A life well lived

A life well lived

Pleasure is nice, but it is never enough. Material wealth can be immensely helpful, but brings no fulfillment of its own accord.

Power can give great satisfaction to your ego. Yet a life lived solely in the service of ego ends up being small and pathetic.

What truly makes life good is the commitment you put into making life good. What makes life good is the experience of making a difference.

There is much that’s already been given to you by virtue of your existence, and there is much more that may or may not be given to you. What matters at the core of your spirit, though, is not what you have but what you do with it.

No person, situation, event or possession can give you fulfillment. What brings about real fulfillment is your participation in bringing it about.

Life’s rewards are not what you long for. What you long for is to genuinely earn your own significance.

Every moment is an opportunity to do so. Treasure each of those opportunities, make full use of them, and you will have the priceless experience of a life well lived.