My Wife mentioned the twelve twelve on twelve twelve full moon at about nine thirty that evening,
in bed while turning out the light.
I awoke at twelve o six, got out of bed putting on my glasses,
gathering my journal and a pencil with a carved tip.
I went down to my basement shrine with a cup of tap water.
pouring some into the sacred well at the bottom of the stairs and then down again to the left.
Lighting a tea light candle in front of that and settling down for the familiar and regular practice of observing and revering natural cycles with unnatural attention.
I am fortunate to have been gifted and privileged to be able to give.
Sharing the root of the matter .
Beginning with the Earth Mother,
even though the timing for this ritual is prompted by sky watching. the lunar phases being special in a sharing relationship between myself and other people.
These are not the times when I gather with others to perform holiday group ritual eight times a year.
These are the times when I make offerings on my own for support, inspiration and understanding in my work and learning as a facilitator of group spiritual practice as a Druid Priest
A functional ballast for the high holiday- on the spot- social spiritual - keep to the point projection.
The Moon ,new and full is my time to keep my mouth closed and my mind open.
I am not alone in speculating about the long barrows of ancient Europe and line of sight relationships to distant bodies movement beyond the horizon.
Sun - Moon-Planets- Stars
all rising and setting
turning above and below
all of us
for a long long time
celestial directors and the observant people of the earth, on the earth and in the earth.
vision quest - incubation
My basement just after midnight with the sweet aroma of gifted vintage home made mead dribbled on statuary and sculpture, my floor almost clean except for the split ash that remained from the kindling creating of the day now passed.
So it was such special conditions that night that I scribbled down my omens in my journal, said my thanks, blowing out the candle , concluding the regular personal effort involved with,
the hard to stay in touch with,
in order to go upstairs,
go open up the kitchen door,
so I could go outside,
My bare feet and boxer shorts with glasses on face and journal in hand move out into a crisp brightness,
the wood deck shoveled of heavy snow many days ago has had a couple days to thaw ,freeze, and melt to crust up between boards collecting with new stuff and drift starkly contrasting dark and light in the moon glow.
It was not slippery or cold, but crunchy twinkly , no sound of wind, but the brook behind my home is running from the mountain melt north and melding with the moon beams, making magic, on an otherwise still night sky gazing to my south.
pulsing in harmony light and sound.
High Fidelity
true to the original
