pressed in cheek to jowl trying to vie for the best vantage point. Looking at the enormity of the crowd, she was struck with the usual nerves that accompanied any public speaking engagement. Knowing from experience that she needed to start the show in order to find any peace from the nausea, she left her grandmother’s side. With a pat from her grandmother for confidence, she began to walk the perimeter with a basket laden with the remaining needs for the ritual.
As Brenawyn passed first Maggie, then Alex, she took a deep breath, giving both a nervous smile. On the completion of one revolution she closed her eyes and began to weave through the standing stones counting her steps. Two more times around and she stopped, facing the East standing stone.
The moment she stepped within the circle, goose bumps raced up her arms and she shivered despite the warmth of the day. She approached the center offertory pedestal, turned, and knelt in front of it, giving a quick nod to Alex to begin his introduction.
Alex’s baritone projected into the crowd, “Welcome. Join us in thanksgiving for th’ Spirits’ blessings. Lughnasadh is a summer harvest festival acknowledging and celebrating th’ fullness o’ life through th’ bounty tha’ th’ Divine provides. Th’ god Lugh created th’ day ta honor his mother, Eithne. Over th’ many centuries, celebrants ha’ used it ta honor their mother, Mother Earth, for she is th’ source o’ all sustenance. ‘Tis a time for purification and th’ release o’ pain, fear, sadness, ta allow a true renewal o’ self ta bloom. Our priestess,” turning to indicate Brenawyn, “is symbolic o’ each o’ us in adoration. She is committed ta her own purification and self-renewal, and by extension, ta ours.
“She will first call each spirit in turn ta acknowledge their power and favor in procuring th’ harvest, placing a candle for each as a sign o’ respect. Th’ flame will remember our prayer, and th’ crystal placed at th’ base o’ each will hold it bound. After, she will offer sacrifice—an offering o’ th’ Earth’s bounty, and finally, she will pray for th’ continued good will o’ th’ Spirits throughout th’ next phase o’ our year.”
Stopping directly in front of her, Alex gave a wink and melted back into the crowd. Brenawyn took another moment to gather courage and stood, approaching the North-facing stone. Gathering up the hem of the dress, she knelt and ran a hand along the blue veined surface of the stone. It felt cool, smooth, and unyielding.
Courage.
Raising her arms above her head to the open sky above, her voice rang out in the gathering silence. “I acknowledge the North Spirit, who gives us true bearing, guiding and calling us home. I call to the wind, who lives companionably with the North giving us life-sustaining air to breathe.” She reached for the amethyst. “I summon both to this circle. Let this crystal be forever etched with our plea.” Placing it gently at the base she reached for the matches. “And the flame of the candle mark our prayer.”
She tore a match from the book and struck it against the strip on the cardboard. It lit briefly, only to be guttered by a breeze, but before she had the chance to strike the match again, the crowd gasped. She glanced up, distracted, and glanced around at the scene beyond the stones. Wind beat against the spectators. Most were bent against the gale, sheltering small children, her grandmother and Alex stood in a similar position, Alex hunched protectively over her, blocking much of the wind. They squinted from the gusts as their clothes plastered themselves to their bodies. Both were staring directly at her.
The wind continued to batter them, but her robes were still. The wind whipped round and round, building momentum. There was a scream from somewhere in the crowd, babies crying here, people running for cover there. With a deep whoosh the wind changed; rushing from every direction and from all
As Brenawyn passed first Maggie, then Alex, she took a deep breath, giving both a nervous smile. On the completion of one revolution she closed her eyes and began to weave through the standing stones counting her steps. Two more times around and she stopped, facing the East standing stone.
The moment she stepped within the circle, goose bumps raced up her arms and she shivered despite the warmth of the day. She approached the center offertory pedestal, turned, and knelt in front of it, giving a quick nod to Alex to begin his introduction.
Alex’s baritone projected into the crowd, “Welcome. Join us in thanksgiving for th’ Spirits’ blessings. Lughnasadh is a summer harvest festival acknowledging and celebrating th’ fullness o’ life through th’ bounty tha’ th’ Divine provides. Th’ god Lugh created th’ day ta honor his mother, Eithne. Over th’ many centuries, celebrants ha’ used it ta honor their mother, Mother Earth, for she is th’ source o’ all sustenance. ‘Tis a time for purification and th’ release o’ pain, fear, sadness, ta allow a true renewal o’ self ta bloom. Our priestess,” turning to indicate Brenawyn, “is symbolic o’ each o’ us in adoration. She is committed ta her own purification and self-renewal, and by extension, ta ours.
“She will first call each spirit in turn ta acknowledge their power and favor in procuring th’ harvest, placing a candle for each as a sign o’ respect. Th’ flame will remember our prayer, and th’ crystal placed at th’ base o’ each will hold it bound. After, she will offer sacrifice—an offering o’ th’ Earth’s bounty, and finally, she will pray for th’ continued good will o’ th’ Spirits throughout th’ next phase o’ our year.”
Stopping directly in front of her, Alex gave a wink and melted back into the crowd. Brenawyn took another moment to gather courage and stood, approaching the North-facing stone. Gathering up the hem of the dress, she knelt and ran a hand along the blue veined surface of the stone. It felt cool, smooth, and unyielding.
Courage.
Raising her arms above her head to the open sky above, her voice rang out in the gathering silence. “I acknowledge the North Spirit, who gives us true bearing, guiding and calling us home. I call to the wind, who lives companionably with the North giving us life-sustaining air to breathe.” She reached for the amethyst. “I summon both to this circle. Let this crystal be forever etched with our plea.” Placing it gently at the base she reached for the matches. “And the flame of the candle mark our prayer.”
She tore a match from the book and struck it against the strip on the cardboard. It lit briefly, only to be guttered by a breeze, but before she had the chance to strike the match again, the crowd gasped. She glanced up, distracted, and glanced around at the scene beyond the stones. Wind beat against the spectators. Most were bent against the gale, sheltering small children, her grandmother and Alex stood in a similar position, Alex hunched protectively over her, blocking much of the wind. They squinted from the gusts as their clothes plastered themselves to their bodies. Both were staring directly at her.
The wind continued to batter them, but her robes were still. The wind whipped round and round, building momentum. There was a scream from somewhere in the crowd, babies crying here, people running for cover there. With a deep whoosh the wind changed; rushing from every direction and from all
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