Lady of the Stars: A Full Moon Ritual of Invocation and Exploration

Preparation:

As I set up the altar area, my excitement mounted, to the point where I felt almost like a kid again getting ready for bed on Christmas Eve night and wanting desperately to fall asleep quickly so that morning would come sooner. I set up the altar, took some initial photographs and then lit some incense to burn while I did my cleansing and preparatory meditation in another room. I changed into the simple blue dress that I often wear for ritual, replaced my mundane jewelry with the pieces I reserve for ritual and other special occasions; I washed my face and hands with cold water, helping to cool my skin which by that point was warm and flushed with excitement and energy. Then I spent about twenty minutes in meditation, first rehearsing the steps of the ritual in my mind, and then sitting quietly and focusing on my breath, chanting my awen while I centered and grounded, attempting to circulate and integrate the excited energy I was feeling. Eventually, I felt ready to begin the ritual. (By this time, it was about 9 PM.)



Altar and Ritual Area:

I used a small room in our apartment (that we call "the study"), spreading a deep blue blanket out on the floor and using a low, long coffee table draped in a gorgeous blue scarf as an altar. In the center of the altar I placed a small blue bowl sparkling with a layer of gold glitter (which, in retrospect, I probably used far too liberally). To the immediate right of the bowl was the small, gold floating candle I would place in the bowl and light; to the immediate left was the circular blue goldstone pendant I would be consecrating. Behind the bowl I placed the green-and-purple fluorite sphere in its stand, along with the pieces of tumbled goldstone and blue goldstone, and around these the strand of prayer beads I'd recently created to use during my flamekeeping shifts, with the amber-centered sun as its main charm. To the right side of the altar burned a small red candle in a gold-flecked candle holder, in front of which I laid my old athame. To the left side of the altar I placed my small blue pitcher of water, and in front of this my tarot deck in its blue bag. Scattered all over the altar were silver and opalescent flat-sided marbles that, against the blue of the scarf, looked like distant stars glimmering in the flickering candle light.

On the lower shelf beneath the altar, I kept the matches, the ritual bell, the candle snuffer and my iPod hooked up to two small external speakers for easy use during the ritual. I also had my tarot books and a copy of the ritual script in case I needed it. I left the incense burning up on top of the cabinet so that the incense smoke drifted down around me as I sat on the floor in front of the altar.



The Ritual:

The ritual itself went very well. I had no trouble with the memorization and hardly even stumbled, though once or twice I had to pause or speak slowly rather than rush ahead - but that was fine. I had a little trouble at the beginning settling down and working with my energy level; I found myself almost distracted by my anticipation so that it was hard to just sit and do the work of the ritual itself.

During the Statement of Intent, I played Iona's song, "A Million Stars," to help me anchor more firmly in the "mood" as I charged and lit the candle and poured the water in to the bowl. The effect was dazzling, to see the candle light flickering off of all the gold glitter covering the bottom of the bowl, and then slowly lifting and rising as the water swirled - some of the glitter remaining on the bottom, while some floated on the surface, causing this wonderful effect of depth reflecting back the candle light. What I didn't anticipate was the candle drifting towards the place where I poured the water from the pitcher into the bowl, so that once or twice I had to gently bump it with my finger in the opposite direction so that I wouldn't accidentally douse it. The result was getting my fingers covered in glitter, which ended up mostly on my hands and in the lap of my blue dress - not a bad effect. Creating and opening the center way went very well, and after some deep breaths, I moved on to the invocation of the Lady of the Stars and transitioned fairly quickly, after the chant, into meditation.

Once in my meditative trance, however, I had a hard time getting situated - I found myself kind of wandering my inner landscape, beginning first on the shore of the pebbly beach where my last meditation left off. But soon growing restless and unable to focus well, I sought out the forest grove up above far back in the woods away from the cliff that looked out over the ocean. On my way there, I noticed that my body was nude and covered with the glistening bits of gold glitter, not only on my hands but all up and down my limbs, and they shone and sparkled against my pale skin as I walked through the dark woods towards my inner grove. Upon reaching my inner grove, I found a fire already lit at the altar, a fire that resembled the dark amber fiery clouds of [a new star being born]. Above, through the clearing in the trees, I could just glimpse a deep night sky full of stars. At first, I spent some time dancing and turning around the space, rejoicing in how my glitter-studded skin reflected and glimmered in the starlight and firelight... Then, slowly, I noticed that a figure was over by the fire, dark and slightly hunched, attending to the flames. When I drew closer, the figure turned towards me - and showed a frightening clown-mask of white skin with bright red thick-lipped make-up and bared teeth flashing in the firelight, eyes looking slightly maniacal.

I was completely not expecting this, and began to get a little panicked, since I have never encountered such a terrifying figure within my meditation before and it seemed deeply wrong and foreboding to encounter one now, during such an important ritual. Yet every time I tried to come closer to the figure, that was the face that glanced at me over its hunched shoulder. Finally, I declared loudly, "I am not afraid of you!" At which point, the fire on the altar seemed to pulse, sending out a ripple of energy that disintegrated the terrifying clown figure. I was alone in the grove for a little while, until it seemed to me that a figure was descending from the sky - a woman figure, whose hair rippled upward in dark auburn-amber waves like a flame. She was robed in deep blue, so deep it was almost the same color as the night sky itself, and when I could get a glimpse of her face (which for some reason felt difficult to look in to), it seemed pale and utterly peaceful, even as though her eyes were closed. I felt sure that this was the same figure who had appeared to me in my meditation a few days earlier.

The conversation we had was somewhat jumbled and difficult to discern at times. The gist of it, however, was a reminder that fear, too, is sacred and is in many ways very similar to love, an expression of love itself. If we do not love, then we cannot be afraid, and so it is important to listen to our fears as a sign pointing the way to our love. She reminded me of what has always been the guiding inspiration for my poetry (which I have set aside for a long time) - that is, I have always written poetry as a way of facing my fears, hunting my fears through the darkness and seeking them out, trying to render them beautiful. She reminded me that this is what I need to keep doing in my own life. When I objected that surely I must have some better gift to give to the world than to be - as she called it, referring to a name some Native American Indian tribes give to the rabbit - the "fear-caller," she chided me, saying that the world is so utterly full of fear these days, there could be no more sacred a gift than to help transform this fear into something holy and meaningful, to render it beautiful and remind people that fear is an aspect of love.

After a time, our conversation seemed to wander and lose its thread, and I thanked her for her guidance and her advice, though I wasn't sure how to interpret it or act upon it. I asked her what advice or wisdom she had concerning this group, and her response was, "Do not worry so much about it for now. Just follow the leadings you sense, listen to the callings as they come, and don't worry too much about trying to pin things down or define things or control things. Let things happen as they will." Then, as she seemed to fade away and leave me alone in the grove again, the sky above me seemed to clear of some until-then-imperceptible mist or cloud cover, and reveal a sky that seemed so infinite and deep with stars that the stars themselves felt as though they were millions and millions of miles away. The distance felt so overwhelming, and the space between those points of brilliance so vast, that I felt giddy and fearful with a sudden sense of vertigo, as though I might lose my grip on the earth and go drifting off into space. And then I remembered again how fear could be an aspect or sign of love, and thought how close fear was to awe, and awe to love and gratitude, and how this sense of vastness and overwhelming majesty was, too, something that could inspire fear in us.

After the meditation, I took a little bit of time to re-center and then moved on to divination. Below I wrote out the cards I drew, and my interpretations of their meaning...

Finally, I finished the ritual by consecrating the amulet of blue goldstone to this work, blessing it thrice with water from the bowl and then passing it thrice through the flame of the central candle. Afterwards, I spent some time again re-centering, and then conclude the ritual with the final blessing and the unweaving of sacred space.

My feet had fallen asleep, so it took while to stand up after that! I took a few more pictures of the altar with the candles lit, once I had officially ended the ritual.



Divination Results (Tarot Reading):

"Who are you?"

Eight of Pentacles - I am the weaver of webs upon which the dew collects like stars, shining in intimate constellations, fire within water. I am the tension of duality - light and dark, fire and water, being and becoming - tripled in power, the eight spokes of the turning wheel, the four directions echoing above and below. I am the creatrix and the creative force, the worker and the work, the inspiration and spark of transformation that gives rise to new forms and seeks expression through new skills. I am the energy and effort of the creative process; I am the worker enthralled with her craft, seeking ever-new paths to manifestation in the world of physical forms. It is a delicate dance I weave through the world, and each star shivers as fragile and shining as a drop of dew suspended in the darkness and emptiness of space.


"Why have you brought this group together?"

Eight of Cups - To dive deep into the realms of intuition, emotion and mystery, following the glimmer of inspiration that leads to new realms, new insights, new depths of understanding. The old patterns of emotion and relationship once carefully laid out and protected - it is time to abandon these for new adventure, the risk of the night and its darkness, the thrill of the unknown. A star shines in the depths of the sea, fire within water, beckoning as a guiding light, leading more deeply into soul.


"How can we best serve you as a group?"

Queen of Pentacles - Share the riches of your creative selves, cultivating a warm and supportive environment in which others can do the same. Seek relationships of harmony and humility with all the good things of the earth - be humble as humus, "from the earth," rooted in compassion and cheerfulness and the joy of the senses. Dare to be yourselves without harming others; draw strength from the oak, who is nourished both by deep roots anchored in the moist soil and by lofty branches striving towards the warmth and golden light of the sun. The pentacle is, itself, a star crafted of the stuff of the earth. Become craftsfolk of the pentacle, the earthly star, forging creative, compassionate relationships in the world around you.


"How can I best serve you within the group?"

The Sun (XIX) - Seek the joyful acceptance of the child playing in the morning sunlight as it warms the land. Unabashed and completely at ease with who you are, it becomes easier to share your gifts with the world, radiating energy and enthusiasm as naturally as the sun shines, giving warmth and light to others - yet, like the sun, also knowing when to retire to the shadows and allow others to shine. Clarity of vision and purpose, the energy of passion and the eager embrace of inspiration and enlightenment are your gifts to share with others in child-like innocence and wonder at the marvels of the world.

DOTR Lesson 2: Sea

It began with a few tenuous notes turning and echoing out across the waters, the keening of the violin striving against its own tension and yearning. I was there, on the same familiar rocky cliff that curved in around a small bay, the dark waters of the ocean stretching out far beneath me. The murmuring wash of waves among the pebbles of the beach below, rocking in rhythm until the music faded again into silence.

Above me, the stars began to slip out into the night, one by one, as though disrobing from the dark veils of the night sky. One by one, they turned and shot a gasp of brilliance blazing out in a spiny halo of light around them, then pulled back again, glistening and humming with a silent energy. I lifted my head to ask them for their wisdom. It seemed as though one beckoned to me, glimmering more brightly than the rest. The vertigo of a wild night sky thrown open from horizon to horizon swept over me as my gravity seemed to shift — and then before me, solid as stone it seemed, a staircase spiraled upwards into the starscape. Step by step I climbed, my feet steady, my eyes on the scattered specks of light. Each step fell thick and heavy as though on stone draped over with the deep, plush fabric of night and darkness and stillness. As I reached the final stair, the star before me stepped close as a woman, dark and brilliant with features that seemed to shift as she turned, as though I gazed into her eyes from across countless light years. She smiled, and lifted her hand to caress my cheek and temple.

Then all at once, her other hand was at my throat, grasping my jaw firmly. With one quick motion she wrenched my face away, palm hard against my forehead, and I felt my spine snap as my body crumpled beneath her hard, cold fingers.

My body tumbled as it fell from the sky, loose and undone. I felt almost relaxed, my body buffeted and slowed by the wind, as though some tension in me had snapped and let me drop. I fell like a limp dead thing, which is what I was, and when I hit the ocean's surface, it gave way with almost as little resistance as the air, opening its dark mouth in a crater-like wave that closed over me again as I sank down beneath the waters.

Down and down I sank, making no attempt to swim or even draw a breath. My body became as heavy and dark as the oceans themselves, and creatures glided past me in the dark glistening a wet gold, slipping in and out of sight almost like stars. It seemed to me that all this time, I could see the stars shining above me, above the surface of the water, though only dimly — so dim that perhaps it was no more than a memory. My body lay on the rough bottom of the sea for a long while, its limbs swayed only by the slow, sluggish motions of the currents. I do not remember making the decision to move again — and maybe it was only the ocean itself that gradually pushed and pulled and turned me towards the shore — but eventually I found myself on hands and knees, stumbling and crawling up the pebbled beach, waves dragging at me as I gasped and sought for a hold.

Exhausted, I could not go far, but sat just above the highest reach of the waves where they ran themselves out between the wet, rounded stones. I sat for a while, catching my breath as it returned and letting the ocean water drip from me until I found I was quite dry, though chilled beneath the night sky once more. Then down the beach came the white hound, old companion of this place, bounding with joyful greeting towards me. I flung my arms around her in an embrace and buried my face and hands in her warm, dog-scented fur. Life, with that warmth and panting breath and bounding joy, began to return to me and I felt happy and grateful to have found her again after so long an absence.

Yet, in the midst of our joyous reunion, she stopped — and a low growl began to build in her throat. At first, I thought she was growling at me, and a moment of panic at another betrayal swept through me. But then I realized she was looking past me, towards a figure that loomed up out of the dark some ways down the beach. I turned and ventured closer — the dark figure outlined against the sky seemed huge and thin, featureless as worn stone, and I soon realized it was not a person, but a statue: a thin, lank, faceless man standing on a dais, like an oscar carved from rock and weathered by the sea and wind. I turned to reassure the white hound by my side, who glanced up at me with a look of that showed a clear dislike for the figure — then the dog squatted and pissed on the dais and trotted off up the beach again as though her sentiments had been made clear. I followed her back to where we had been, and sat down once more on the pebbly shore, the dog curled up on my left while my hand ran over her long, white fur in gentle strokes.

Then there was the dark star goddess beside me again, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, feet bare against the wet rocks, the hem of her deep blue robes clinging with damp to the stone. I was not afraid, but comforted as she drew my head down to rest on her shoulder and she stroked my cheek again just as I stroked the dog's warm fur. Though she did not say a word to me, I came to understand the killing blow she'd dealt me was not a violence or punishment, but her gift to me: a change in perspective that sent me plummeting into the depths. Too many are striving towards the stars, climbing those steep ladders and struggling with all their might towards the heights to catch a glimpse of something marvelous.

She turned a little so that we could look one another in the eye. Sitting there on the beach, she was barely taller than I was, her face shifting in and out of shadow, her eyes shining, her hair seeming sometimes wet and dark as to be almost black in long, flowing locks, and sometimes like a liquid fire, deep amber and auburn, strands curling and licking along the pale, perfect skin of her face and shoulders like tongues of flame. Leaning forward, she pressed her little lips against my forehead in a lingering kiss. I felt the warmth of that kiss seep into the depths of me, blossoming and opening outwards from within. The sky above me seemed expansive and infinite in the darkness. The ocean spread like a black, rippling plain of reflected starlight so vast and great and deep that it stole all breath from my body. The stone and earth below me shuddered with solidity and power, hard and warm and heavy like a great weight on which I walked like some delicate, fragile thing. The three realms loomed in majesty, surrounding me in glory where I sat stunned in awe on the threshold, that liminal space where land and sea meet sky. I was so utterly small — and yet, a witness to this greatness, I held all this in the intimacy of my own body, concentrated and unfurling through the three realms, the elements of my being a microcosm of this larger world.

The goddess of starlight and transformation leaned away from me, a small, slight figure full of power and primordial energy churning in the dark. This is it, she seemed to say, this is what you are here for. To be the witness to the wild, overwhelming wonder of the world — to be small and simple beneath the sky, to drift light and buoyant upon the sea, to dance fragile and always half-rootless across the land. No other view is better than this one right here, no other view is meant for you. You cannot become big by strife and struggle. You can only participate in the vastness of creation, you can only join in relationship with the greatness of the world, by staying here to attend to your place in it with openness and gratitude. You are not in service to your self alone; you are in the service of greater things than you.

The kiss lingered still, flooding my senses with the slow opening of light and energy and song. I felt as though I were slipping into deeper trance... yet soon I found myself opening my eyes, the meditation over, the mundane room around me and the candle flickering in its holder, amber-rose in the bright sunlight thrown in slanted rays across the coffee table. Still, the energy flowed through me, and the vision remained.

A Reading of Day and Night

"Bright Brigid of the Day, of the Sun and Flame and turning golden cross,
Dark Brigid of the Night, of the Stars, Deep Waters and Forge Fire,
Blessed Brigid of the Threshold, of the space-between, relationship and connection,
what wisdom do you have to share with me for the benefit of this group?"

Day: The Hanged Man (XII) — A card of new perspective, surrender and self-sacrifice. A subtle shift in the light reveals new visions of the world both within and without. A card of introspection, confronting the sun-and-shadow alike in our lives, giving ourselves willingly to our griefs and sorrows, finding in the shadow the dark heart of the flame - and through this sacrifice of our old worldview, a new life begins, a new dawn, a new day.

Night: The Moon (XVIII) — A card of dream and mystery in the moonlight, the deep waters of the unconscious welling up from within, drawn by the tides of the moon and the night sky. Strong emotions erupt unexpectedly in response to that inner gravity, and we find ourselves face to face with both senseless fears and tantalizing desires, confused by projections and enticed by half-glimpsed shadows that may lead us more deeply into an engagement with the dark mysteries of the unknown.

Threshold: Four of Cups — A card of warning against settling too deeply into self-absorption and introspection, becoming entrenched in emotional patterns of imaginary worries or boredom. A great opportunity for growth and engagement presents itself, possibilities for connection and exploration are offered as gifts for the taking, if we are open enough to receive them. We pause on the threshold, for the price of connection is receptivity and a willingness to reevaluate our lives. Are we ready to accept the gifts being offered to us?