Mystic Writing

December 16, 2019

By the idol namesake of clove lipped cedar boughs, I light this waxen tor under the belly of the crones moon. This instant where darkness pools like the milieu of snowflakes, held only now by the flame which crawls its way into existence and then dances maniacally, severing shadow from sight. There is thick cinnamon and burnt orange peel laced into the billowing smoke from the woodstove.

I hear her wrinkled voice too, woven into the contained clouds, chanting some such wisdoms from the shrine of death. It is that most auspicious time when death mourns for itself and at the snowy grave a new life is born. The yule log is flecked with holly and crimson pointsettas, lit up by the impending arrival of the new born Sun. The icicles r...

December 24, 2018

I venture into the darkness with you, sweet one, and gather the boughs of holly to make an arch to pass through. To the crimson mist on the other side of a ritual rebirthing.

I taste the scent of cinnamon sacraments made by the Yule tree, where the five-pointed star radiates the elemental glow of unity and shakes my sturdy bones into a rapture so cruel. The memory of lost recitations, when your words made burning vows at the fire’s excitation.

To step further then into the darkness where the blood of the ancients and the logs long burnt stew. I remove one by one, the two swords which pierce your heart, a barrier to the sun and an unlikely union to part.

Yours is the song of silver snakes and golden bells, the chime of fragrant c...

December 20, 2017

 “This is the night of Solstice, the longest night of the year. Now darkness triumphs; and yet, gives way and changes into light. The breath of nature is suspended: all waits while within the Cauldron, the Dark King is transformed into the Infant Light. We watch for the coming of dawn, when the Great Mother again gives birth to the Divine Child Sun, who is bringer of hope and the promise of summer. This is the stillness behind motion, when time itself stops; the center which is also the circumference of all. We are awake in the night. We turn the Wheel to bring the light. We call the sun from the womb of night. Blessed Be!” (Starhawk, The Spiral Dance. P 182)

The word Yule comes from the Norse God Iul which means wheel (The 8 sab...

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