Wheel of the Year // Belated Beltane Blessings

May 1st marks the beginning of Summer here in the Northern Hemisphere and this turn of the wheel is celebrated by the fire festival, Beltane.

A half turn of the wheel from Samhain (Hallowe'en, 31st October), this festival is its polar opposite in meaning  as well as seasonal position. Where Samhain symbolises death, the end of harvest and the arrival of winter and the 'dark' months, Beltane is a fertility festival, celebrating life, the beginning of the harvest season and the arrival of summer - we are almost at the 'lightest' point of the year. For more information about the origins and meaning of the sabbat, read last year's Beltane post, here

Beltane blessings - albeit belated - to you all.

Blessed Samhain

or

Happy Hallowe'en

or (for those of you who follow the Wheel of the Year)

Happy New Year's Eve!

Samhain marks the last turn of the wheel - the final harvest and the dying of the year. The ends of the crops have been gathered, the light is leaving those of us in the Northern Hemisphere and the time for spiritual 'hibernation' is upon us. Long, dark and cold nights wait on the other side of this eve.

However, it is not a time to be sad; rather to celebrate the achievements of the year just past and to honour the earth for the fruits it has provided for us over the summer months. Sitting opposite Beltane (the festival of light and fertility) on the wheel, Samhain marks the contradictory forces of darkness and death. Said to fall at the time when the veil between this earthly world and the Otherworld is at its thinnest, the feast of Samhain traditionally also honours the dead and is a night for remembering ancestors and loved ones who have left us. It is tradition to set a place for those absent friends at the table before enjoying a Samhain meal. 

Some people celebrate Samhain with a ritual to mark the passing of the old year and these rituals are as varied as the individuals who celebrate the festival. You could create a representative 'wheel of the year' with symbolic markers for the sabbats and burn it to mark the end of the year. 

These pictures show an edible version of this ritual: a sabbat cake! Each sabbat is marked on the cake with a leaf, flower or seed which reflects the season - we have a miniature eggshell for Ostara, a holly leaf for Yule and a lavendar sprig for the first harvest of Lammas, for example. Samhain here is shown by an autumn leaf. Instead of being burned, the wheel of the year will be gobbled up!

This year will be the first in a long time that I will celebrate Samhain alone - although I did have family to share an early feast of pumpkin curry with yesterday (more on that recipe to come, I feel). Traditionally I carve my pumpkin and let the light shine like a miniature beacon in the window, to guide the way for spirits; warm a pot of mulled cider and complete a small ritual which acknowledges the year past and sets forth my hopes for the year to come. Tonight I will be quietly contemplating everything that this toughest of years has brought to my family and honouring my dad, so recently passed, with a simple prayer. 

Brightest blessings to you all.

Belated Lammas Blessings

 One of the things I love most about living in the countryside is that you can see the seasons changing, almost moment by moment, everywhere around you. 

This field was crammed full of wheat when I walked through it a couple of weeks ago.

On Sunday, there was not a grain in sight: it had all been harvested.

August 1st, although called by different names according to different traditions and cultures, is known to myself and many others here in England as Lammas. This comes from the phrase 'loaf mass' in reference to the first wheat harvest. By baking and breaking bread, on this day we celebrate the success of the crops.

This year I celebrated Lammas day with a family feast and a long walk, enjoying the blessings of the land, the sun and the food they provide. 

I hope you all enjoyed yours. 

The Triumphant Light

Today marks the Summer Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. 

The point on the Wheel of the Year is directly opposite Yule; the counterbalance to the darkest of moments.

Today, sunlight is triumphant.

Whether you are lighting the Litha fires, celebrating with a family feast or, like me,  simply enjoying the enchantment of this Midsummer Night in the quiet of your own garden, I wish you a wonderful, magickal evening.

Solstice blessings one and all. 

Beltane

The fire festival Beltane is celebrated on May Eve and May Day, ushering in summer and marking the opposite point of the wheel to Samhain. 

Much like Samhain, in mythology and legend, Beltane marks a time when the veil between this world and the Otherworld is thin and transitions or communications between the two are believed to be most likely. 

The etymology of the festival's name is from the Old Irish 'beltene' meaning 'bright fire' and traditionally, the bonfires of Beltane were lit as an emblem of purification in preparation for the summer's harvests. 

Nowadays, many of the festivals Gaelic features have been amalgamated with the English and Germanic practices and symbols of 'May Day' which equally celebrates the fertility of the land as summer arrives. 'May blossom' (hawthorn) adorns houses, children dance around the maypole (whose red and white ribbons represent the feminine and masculine elements required for fertility) and an air of gay abandon permeates the celebrations. 

It is a time to ignite your passion and creativity and there's no right or wrong way to do so: beat a drum to envoke the energies of the season; light a bonfire if space permits or an warm coloured candle if not; dance, run and most importantly, give yourself over to instinct and natural desire. Blessed Beltane everyone - enjoy!

Blessed Ostara!

Happy Springtime! Today's vernal equinox falls during the early evening (17:32 to be precise) and it marks the moment when the Earth's axis is inclined neither away nor towards the Sun.

In 'real' terms, this means we have an instant of 'equal night'; the light and the dark are today of even length. Come tomorrow, our friends in the Southern Hemisphere will start moving into the dark months, while we here in the North will stride into light.

In pagan terms, this means Eostre / Persephone / Cybele / Freya is here. The Earth has awakened; reborn with new life. In Anglo-Saxon England, the goddess Eostre / Ostara was celebrated for the month following the equinox with her feast-day falling on nearest full moon after this moment of equal light and darkness. We see many of these pagan traditions mirrored in modern-day 'Easter' celebrations, with the Christian holiday falling on the nearest weekend to said full moon.

Early Christians, arriving in western European countries believed it would be easier to convert the pagan locals to their teachings if they could amalgamate their practices with existing dates and rituals. It is for this reason that this time of year sees pagan and Christian tradition walking hand it hand, as children at Sunday school paint eggs and make fuzzy-felt cards of chicks and rabbits; families perpetuate the story of the 'Easter bunny' providing chocolate treats and inside a church, filled with spring flowers, a minister will teach about rebirth and light.

For pagans, this time of year honours the Spring goddesses and the life they have brought back to the world. Traditionally these goddesses are associated with animals such as hares, birds and lambs - the creatures who are currently enjoying seasonal frolic and birth.

Eggs are used as decorations round the house, as powerful symbols of birth and the combined fragility and strength present in new life. Spring flowers such as tulips, daffodils and irises display their prominent blooms proudly, representing the combination of male and female required to make the land fertile. I cannot think of a flower more obviously showing off its reproductive organs than a daffodil!

Candles in bright colours demonstrate the growing light and warmth of the sun and often you will find modern-day pagans using a pair of candles (one black, one white) to symbolise the equality and balance found in today's festival.

Ostara is a time for sowing seeds, to ensure there is a harvest for autumn: this may be a physical act of planting your own food crops or a psychological one focussing on the spiritual and emotional rewards you would like to reap later in the year. Try writing down your goals - make them specific - and fold the piece of paper. Sit quietly in front of a lit candle and meditate, visualising the outcome of these hopes and aspirations in the dancing flames.

Ask your chosen Spring goddess to help you tend your wishes, by providing warmth and light whilst they grow. Once you have finished, take your folded paper and the candle down to a quiet spot somewhere earthy, perhaps beneath a budding hedge or beside a tree's roots. Plant both and bless the ground, thanking the goddess for her assistance. Remember to revisit your spot throughout the coming months to nourish with positive thoughts. Brightest blessings.

One egg is enough....

As the Spring Equinox traditionally marks the beginning of Eostre's month, preparations for tomorrow's Ostara celebrations are already well under way in my household. New spring flowers have been gathered and are adorning every available surface, bread is being baked and an egg has been painted.

Just one egg.

One egg is enough.

First the egg was pricked with a needle at either end and the insides blown out into a bowl.

Then, using a long needle, I threaded a ribbon through the holes and tied a knot at the bottom to secure. (At least I thought it was secure; about half-way through the painting process this proved not to be the case and the whole rigmarole had to be done again afterwards).

Now the egg was ready to be painted and, if I'm honest, I didn't really have a plan for this. I just took paints in what I thought were bright, spring-like colours, and did the first thing that came to mind. After a base coat of turquoise, this was essentially just a case of streaking blue and yellow around to make what can only really be described as a marbled mess. But a pretty marbled mess, I'd like to think.

The lone egg is now ready to take pride of place on my Ostara altar, which I will reveal tomorrow. Brightest blessings.

Imbolc

It has been a funny old week. Change is afoot in my department at school, with new appointments being made and colleagues moving on. Unsettling as this may be, I have found myself taking a strange kind of reassurance from it; ironically it has reminded me that one thing we can be sure of is change itself.

At exactly this time last year, I took a giant leap towards changing my own life.  It was at the beginning of February that I applied for and was given my current job. Having begun planting and putting down the roots of my teacher training during the previous autumn, it was with the first signs of spring that I began to see the results and the pathway I was about to take began unravelling before me.

It comes as little surprise to me now that this time of year often brings new growth and development. As the seasons change, the light increases and the earth warms, we find ourselves waking up and taking our first steps towards the year’s goals.

It is this awakening that I celebrate at Imbolc – the midpoint between winter and spring. ‘Imbolc’ originates from the Celtic ‘Oimelc’ (‘ewe’s milk’); the festival which falls on February 1^st or 2^nd is so named because the life-giving flow of milk heralds the return of spring. This sabbat is in honour of Brigid, goddess of the hearth and bringer of fire to warm the frozen earth. 

Having no open fire in my cottage, this year I saw fit to create a symbolic hearth to which I could invite Brigid. This was a simple ritual, using materials I could gather from around the home and hedgerow.

Firstly, I chose the point in my home which I feel is its centre. The living area downstairs is actually the lowest point in the cottage and feels closest to the earth; this is where we naturally gravitate towards for comfort and relaxation.

I then filled the space with white candles, to represent the coming light. On a small table in the space, I placed a red pillar candle, which would represent the flames of fire and surrounded it with stones gathered over the years, to represent the hearth.

Now, I rarely cast a formal circle but as this was the first time I had called upon Brigid and the first time I had used this particular space for magick, I thought it would be appropriate. Previously I had used the wind vane in the farmyard to check my directions, however we have since discovered it is out of sync so my partner insists on checking North on his iPhone compass. Granted, this is not the most traditional method but it definitely comes under the heading of ‘practical magick’.

In spite of this preparation, however, my first attempt to cast a circle in a long while was not without its hiccups.  I really hope I’m not alone in being over the age of eight and still having to think hard about which is East and which is West. Not the best trait in a witch.  Having apologised to the elemental guardians and rearranged my incense and my water goblet, we could finally begin.

The ritual was a simple one; I asked Brigid to bless our home and hearth with her warmth and light and thanked her for the return of Spring. I then cast a small spell for a positive attitude and the creation of happy memories as the year unfolds. Finally, we gathered around our ‘hearth’ and ate a traditional Imbolc feast of roast lamb.

Later in the evening, long after it had gone dark, we used our hearth flame to light the candle of our lantern, which we took for a walk down to the nearby river. Placing an incense stick in the earth on the riverbank and with our lantern aglow, we had the four elements surrounding us once more. As cold as the night was, there was a warmth in that moment: one beautiful memory already created.