Creating Circles and Ceremonies: Rituals for All ... - reading...

184 Creating Circles & Ceremonies
yard, and you launch yourself at full speed towards it. But before you cover half the distance,
you stumble in mid-careen, as another tiny light blinks on just to one side. Oh my gosh! The
lightning bugs have come! The first of the year! This is magick, pure and simple, and as good as it gets!
Now if you were a sensible kid, the ritual has begun. Step one is to head to the house or
garage in search of an empty, clear jar, with a screw-on metal lid soft enough to poke little holes
in for air to pass through. (Because this involves using something sharp, like an ice pick, it’s best
to have an adult supervise or perform this step.) Next, pull up some fresh grass and drop it into
the bottom of your jar, then lightly sprinkle the grass with droplets of water. With your jar ready,
it’s time to catch as many lightning bugs as possible. Since we are good Pagan children and
deeply respect all life, we take great care not to hurt them as we snatch them from the air and
transfer them to the jar. (Remember how gently Gandalf caught the moth?)
When your jar is full enough to be all a-twinkle, carry it back into your house and turn
off all the lights. Carry the jar to each of the main rooms of your house, and sit in silence in
each room until the lightning bugs begin their patterned blinking. As they do, say:
Blessings be upon thee, oh creatures of light! Tiny lanterns of the Goddess! Please
bestow upon our house the fairy-light glow of your blessings. Just as your tiny lanterns
invite love and health and regeneration, let that same invitation reside within our house
this whole year through.
When all the main rooms have been similarly blessed, take the jar back outside and put it in
some undisturbed spot, removing the lid to allow the lightning bugs to fly away home. Be
sure to check the jar the following morning. For each living lightning bug that has remained,
you may be granted an additional wish for the year. Gently shake any remaining lightning
bugs into some undisturbed tall grass, and save the jar for next year.
T he First Snowflake of Winter
The waning months of the year are often very busy ones. There never seems to be enough
time to get everything accomplished, from winterizing your car and house to preparing for the
holidays, getting ready to host friend and family gatherings, buying gifts, while juggling all the
usual responsibilities of business and domestic life. Yet sometime in the middle of it, unheralded
by anything but the weatherman’s dubious report of a “slight possibility,”you will see it! It will
come wafting down out of the leaden-grey sky, falling through space in utter silence and solitude.
The first snowflake of the year! You may then glance around and notice other flakes
dancing on the air, but that first one is the special one. It is your own personal beginning of
winter and it belongs to no one else. That means it should be celebrated.
As quickly as you are able, finish whatever you were doing and retire to your favorite spot
for meditation, perhaps at the little altar in your bedroom. There, turn out all the lights and light
some candles and incense, and meditate on the coming of winter. If you keep a diary or journal,
you may want to note the date for this first snowflake of the year and highlight it so you can
compare it to other years. You may also want to jot down other impressions as they come to
you. The role of winter in the great Wheel of the Year. What it means to you and your family and
friends. What it means to the furry and feathered creatures of the forest and plains. The hardships
it may bring to them and the little things that you might be able to do to help them through this
time of hardship (perhaps a well-stocked bird-feeder for your yard?). Meditate on winter’s majesty.
Think of a virgin snowfall and how it seems to unify the land, the single white mantle
erasing curb lines and sidewalks and streets, yards and fields, turning it all into a single, unsullied
oneness, bringing out the connectedness that lies hidden there on most other days. And finally,
think once more upon that first snowflake of winter, so tiny and yet the harbinger of it all.
When you have finished your meditation, extinguish your candles and incense, and continue
with your day’s planned activities. But as you do, know that you have taken the time to
honor that first snowflake, and so have grounded yourself more completely into the rhythm
of the year’s turning.