ritual – The Abysmal Witch

An Invitation to a Great Working for the Planet

YOU are Invited

I and a few others have been challenged by our Ancestors and by our Gods to do what we can to stir up change in the world.

Our hope is that by breaking the current flow, the pattern of our cultures and societies that are destroying our food and our planet that is encouraging the worst in ourselves and towards others, by breaking this flow we hope that something better can arise.

We have started a Great Working towards change.

You are invited to join us in it. Join by doing ritual. Energizing, powerful ritual. Ritual to a purpose. Do it in your ritual space or in nature. Do it in your own style. Just join us in purpose.

The more of us who Act to create change, the greater the change will be.

If you are interested, all information including the first ritual outline is available at Dark Stars.

We have already begun the Magick. Join us if you so Will.

~Saturn

Funereal Thoughts and a postscript

Yesterday was the funeral for my kindred spirit.

It took place at a Lutheran church. Funerals tend to make me think two things:

– how well does the person doing the service speak to the emotional needs of those present

– what rituals are done to help the people process the moment (with a postscript ponderation on Wiccan and Pagan rituals around death, or lack thereof)

These can be the same thing but not necessarily so. Sometimes the service addresses the emotional component without ritual. Sometimes the ritual is about a spiritual moment rather irrespective of the funeral.

Our clergy are not trained, not in the go to school, classroom, teacher way. Many of us find our own way (though some are lucky to have guidance!). We aren’t given pre-set forms on how to handle death for a congregation or psychological training for handling the emotional impact. I’m not saying we can’t and aren’t good at it, just that we don’t have a formal training system to make sure we all get there with a measured level of competence.

We also don’t have pre-set rituals. I mean, here we were, a crowd of probably 150 people lined up in the pews, sharing bound books with the order of the ceremony laid out, complete with hymn references and prayers. Go to any Lutheran church and I’m betting it’s the same. I also wouldn’t be surprised on similarities between different Christian sects.

Again, not a bad thing that we don’t have such hidebound fixed rituals. 😉 But I wonder if we will feel a lack in future years when more of us start passing on (an interesting part of being such a young religion). There was such comfort for people in being able to share the familiar ritual. It was a touch-stone, a grounding, a communal centering into the moment that would lay pathways to help make things just a little easier in the days to come.

I think I’d be the type to want a wake. Sure, a eulogy would be nice, but I’d love for people to share stories about me (I don’t think there would be a lack of them), to remember me as I am in life. I think I will contemplate the ritual part. I may even get back to you with it.

Have you thought about it? How you want those left behind to deal with your absence? Have you told anyone so that it may actually happen?

~Abysmal Witch

As promised, a postscript (originally I was calling this a funny postscript, but as I wrote it up I realized that it wasn’t really funny, but I still found it interesting):

At 3 in the morning (why, oh why, is it always 3 in the morning for such things?) last night my cats woke me up with thunderous running on my balcony. Since they’re only allowed out if they behave I pulled myself out of bed and called at them to come in. They were more than a little slow at it but finally arrived and I shoved the door shut behind them.

That was when I noticed what had caused the delay. The cause of the noise outside was a big, chubby moth that they’d been playing with. They came inside but only after they’d grabbed the moth and carried it in with them.

I was heart-bursting proud at that moment that they’d listened to me. (Following a command rather than just doing what they want was impressive for a pair of brattish cats, but doing so when there was a live creature involved was just this side of miraculous.)

It also struck me as funny given that of course they would have their own way in the end.

Samhain Memories

Okay, yes, I’m a little slow, but hey, I have at least one silly story and some fun pictures to share. Like this one

It was a fabulous night. I and my covenmate got together early in the day, where early still means afternoon. After all, I’m just not that much of a morning person. Our first stop of the night was to pick up meal, snack and mead provisions.

I will say now, the mead didn’t make it. It was my first attempt. Our eyes glistened with sadness. It was horrible.

Okay, phew, got that hard part over with.

While most of what we did I won’t be sharing (sshhhh, it’s a coven secret LOL really most of it was only interesting to us), the start of the night was sharably entertaining.

As twilight fell we attempted to leave my apartment to go visit Grandma Willow and do our first ritual of the night. Yes, attempted to leave. We were a tad inebriated. It was fabulous, don’t get me wrong, but it led to a few false starts. But I’m slightly ahead of myself.

We bundled up, all nice and cozy and warm for an evening of walking. I’ve got my long, black wool diva coat on (others have described it that way, it’s not my own label! lol), my Wicked (TM) witch hat (I adored that musical) on and some funky make-up. My covenmate was in her robes. We’re headed out the door and as we walk through it I commented “You know, for most people it’s come as you aren’t night.”

It took her a second and then we were both laughing. She made a fabulously witty comeback which I’m so ashamed to say escapes me now and we headed to the elevator.

But shit! We’d forgotten the offering of mead. Back in we went, filled a small tupperware container with some mead which went into my coat pocket since neither of us were carrying a bag and then we were back at the door. I looked at her, at the door, and what did I say? “You know, for most people it’s come as you aren’t night.” We both snicker as she says her fabulously witty comeback and head back to the elevator.

Ah, crap. No gloves. The giggling has already started as we head back through my front door. I’m falling over as we get back to the door, gloves in hand and I have to say “You know, for most people <snicker> it’s come <snort> as you aren’t night.” My covenmate can barely talk as she gets our her rebuttal and we flee to the elevator.

We’re at the elevator and I have that horrible moment, “You know, I forgot–”

“Don’t even say it.”

We didn’t go back again. I don’t think we could have lived through it. We wouldn’t have been able to breathe.

Out the door and off to Grandma Willow (yes, the same one in my Grandma Willow post). Unfortunately, the lid came off the tupperware and by the time we arrived we only had half of the offering left to give. And I spent the rest of the night reeking like an English pub. Made me thirsty. From there we went on a meandering walk back to my place, through the side streets filled with trick-or-treating kids and decorated houses.

And a lot of people with little dogs.

Every time I saw one of those, I cried out “Damn you, Toto! It was your fault! I know it was.” That made for a lot of laughter on my side and on theirs. The dogs didn’t seem to care.

On one house there was a large video screen stretched out from the balcony railing to roof playing The Blob, entertaining the adults while the kids went up to the house.

We passed a particularly friendly fellow and I insisted that my covenmate get her picture taken with him.

There was this one apartment building near my place where a group of residents had gotten together and done a wonderful set up in their front lawn. Though the best part was the very movie style zombie wandering up to two blocks away who would come towards you with brain stealing intensions clearly written on his empty face.

And my final picture for you is of the “Smash Me” pumpkin. I can’t help but wonder, did it survive the night? What do you think? What are the odds?

We spent some time in a coffee shop chatting about all kinds of wonderful things and then it was back home to cook dinner for us and the anscestors and watch some Halloween classics: the original Halloween and Wizard of Oz. In and amongst that was more ritual. What more can be said than:

Happy New Year to all! And to all a Good Night.

~The Abysmal Witch