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My Mind is a Wellspring

When I moved, I hung the sage bundle I had on the wall near my door. Since then, I really haven't had any vivid dreams, as I did when I had it hanging above my bed at camp. And to tell the truth, I didn't notice. The night before last, while I was cleaning my room, vacuuming and washing the walls, I moved the bundle to the wall above my bed, at my head. And last night I had one of the more vivid dreams I remember having. Not only was it richly detailed, I remember alot of it. So, yeah... sage.

The fuzzy, disenchanted, slothish feelings I've been having are gone. I feel myself again, but cynical. The idea of ritual is bothering me, for some reason.

Trynn looked out the window down on the flowered garden, spots of yellow and purple flowers looked back at him from between the scattered green bushes. He thought wistfully of the old garden, the tall trees and shrubs, the winding paths. All gone now, he thought. Tali was down there, among her flowers, placing a plate of bread and a goblet of wine on the small stone alter. She was wearing her dark green robes, her hood down letting her straight black hair fall around her shoulders. Xanthesan walked there too, he noticed, sprinkling water around the perimeter of the garden. Trynn scoffed.
Pushing himself from his seat, he stretched and walked out the door and down the winding, plank staircase to the ground below. He moved quietly toward the edge of the garden and watched silently as Tali and Xanthesan worked their ritual. He didn't see the necessity of ritual, the gods didn't need our acknowledgement to do their work. But he would not interrupt.
Xanthesan had placed the water on the alter, and taken up a dish of salt, walking the same perimeter, sprinkling as he went, saying, "I call on you, creature of Earth, to protect and consecrate this place; may it be free of negativity and harm." He repeated his mantra until the circle was complete, closed and facing north, he raised the bowl in silent salute and placed it on the alter. He turned to pick up a bowl of sand, with a smoldering piece of charcoal in the centre when he spotted the elf, leaning against the tree, his arms crossed. Xanthesan nodded silently to his friend and continued.
Again making the circle, Xanthesan sprinkled incense onto the charcoal, the grey, fragrant smoke trailing behind. He repeated his words. "I call on you, creature of Air, to protect and consecrate this place; may it be free from negativity and harm." Finishing the circle, Xanthesan again raised the bowl, facing east, in silent salute. He placed the bowl on the alter, next to a candle. The circle was complete, and Trynn looked at the small circle. He watched the two move inside, wondering about the purpose of it all. He could work magic without the cleansing, without the robes and without the ceremony. He turned and went inside.
Some time later, Xanthesan walked in the door, still wearing his green robes, his face bright and beaming, his shoulders straight. "You should have joined us," Xanthesan said casually.
"I'm not one for religion," Trynn replied, picking up a cup of tea and sipping it slowly.
"I know. It's not just about the religion," the young man said, sitting across from the elf. "It's about connecting to the seasons and the world. It's about touching and becoming a greater consciousness."
"I can do that without the pomp," Trynn said over the rim of the steaming cup. "I prefer the simpler days of offerings and meditation. By making things so complicated, I feel you take away from the true purpose of magic."
Xanthesan looked sternly at Trynn. "It isn't about magic. It's about reaffirming our devotion to and acknowledging the gods." Trynn started to open his mouth but Xanthesan waved a hand at him to silence him. "Trynn, you can't just sit around, picking apart everyone's ideas. You don't have to wait for the sabbats to make offerings, and you don't have to wait for alignments to do magic. I'm sorry, my friend, but it seems all you do anymore is brood, and sit and wait." The was a heavy silence as the two stared at each other for a minute, and Xanthesan looked away. "The past is important, but you're missing the opportunities right now."

That feels better. I wrote Sonja an e-mail this morning on the subject of ritual and the cyclical influence of Catholicism on modern Wicca (sort of; I was getting to this point when I realized I was late for work). I was thinking this morning about how irrelevant the whole concept of ritual and ceremony seemed, about how Lughnasadh (or Loaf Mass or Lammas) research was less about the day itself and more about the colour scheme. Further I was thinking about how the whole ritual of sabbats seemed heavily catholic in style, but came to the conclusion this morning that this may be largely due to many of the churches beginnings: Pagan worship. Since the church adopted many pagan holidays as their own, isn't it also reasonable that they adopted many pagan customs? The alter, the sprinkling of water, incense, candles.... The Romans were notorious for their lavish pagan rituals and sacrifices, temple leaders becoming christian priests would incorporate many of their own practices. And these practices would be adopted and changed again from a largely christian population becoming pagan...

*Edit*
For those of you who may be new to my head, or just haven't picked up on it yet, the argument that happened in the conversation between Trynn and Xanthesan really took place, as I was writing it. My duality (or quintality) allows me to fervently hold many stubborn, though opposing, points of view at the same time.

posted by September @ 9:09 AM