An Apprentice of Tubal Cain reflects upon Candlemas
February 5th, 2010 by JayMay the faith and friendship that we share in spirit round our fireside never fail this circle of companionship, or any other in the world this coming season, however cold and bitter it may be elsewhere, may we always welcome one another in our hearts and homes with warmth enough to overcome the very worst of Winter. Now let us see if we have sufficient strength for our feet to follow the returning solar rays around the symbol by which we represent them.
Candlemas 2010 was in many ways nothing more than a series of ‘firsts’ for me.
I had already been welcomed into the hearth of The Clan, before we made our way around 9 pm to the chosen place for the Candlemas rite.
This was my first meeting with The Clan in the flesh and my first time to Stanton Moor where our rite was to take place.
The brightest full moon was high in the starlit sky, and so bright in fact that there was little need for torches.
It was cold, painfully so at times, and upon the ground a hard frost formed and began to sparkle in the light of the full moon.
I had never known a night quite like this one, despite years of Wiccan ritual this night seemed real, this was what it was all about, and I couldn’t help but wonder what I had been doing all these years.
I felt like I was seeing the night sky in many ways for the first time, with all the wonder of a child, excited, nervous and every step was filled with a certain trepidation and anticipation.
After a good 10 minutes walk we made our way up a small incline to be met by the Nine Ladies stone circle.
Young Birch trees reflected the light of the full moon, guarding and watching over the ancient stones as they danced by starlight to the music of an unseen piper.
I fell in love with this place instantly and was admittedly a little disappointed that this was not the appointed place for the night’s work.
Being led on by the occasional beat of a drum to help guide us through the night to the chosen place we walked on until we arrived.
Only a couple of the group knew of the place, and as we slowly stepped around a small corner I think it’s safe to say no one was disappointed when we beheld the working site of choice.
Surrounded by Birch trees this little known sacred site stood unassuming amongst heather and gorse, and I couldn’t help but think there was no where more fitting for celebrating the return of life and The Goddess to the cold and frozen Earth.
Having already discussed the rite, who would do what, and when and so on, we decided to forget that to some extent and in true Cochranian spirit we would instead ‘wing it’ and go with the flow. Another first for me, a former Wiccan ritualist used to script and procedure.
“You’re gonna tread the mill tonight boy” announced a quarterman, and I giggled nervously, suddenly worried I might fall or I might trip over the person behind me or in front of me and ruin everything, but as it happens my clumsy half decided to stay home that night and as we started to pace round the fire, chanting I began to feel the shift.
It seemed that with my entire being, I needed to go faster, wanted to go faster, had to go faster. Pretty soon I couldn’t tell if I was pacing the round or walking a straight line, if I was pacing round the fire or it was orbiting me.
The Bell rang and despite my wanting to keep going we moved in single file to the stone altar where the Lady waited to speak, and spoke she did.
It was the first time I had ever been in a circle where the Lady spoke and it pierced to the core, like the icy cold her voice cut like a knife. If I had let myself go I think I would have dropped to my knees but instead all I could do was bow my head as the lady said;
“I am the pause between heartbeats and the silence between breaths…”
I could have cried, but I let her words heal and wash over me with the light of the full moon and the very essence of renewal.
We finished with food which invigorated, and fire which warmed, and I felt a little spaced out and spent, somewhat drained and even sad that the night was over when I felt there was so much more I wanted to see, so much more I wanted to know.
After packing up we headed back to the warmth.
Upon reflection, the night may not have offered me miraculous experiences of unknown Gods, long dead ancestors or inescapable entranced visions of the past or future, which maybe a tiny part of me was perhaps expecting.
But what it did give was the opportunity to see my faith and my work through new eyes, and like a baby taking his first breath, or toddler taking his first steps into the world, I drove home the following day knowing I too had been part of something I will never forget, and had taken my first steps towards the mysteries.
The magic of the night had done no more and no less than it needed.
Jay
(Apprentice of Tubal Cain)
References:
(1) Seasonal occult rituals: (page 70) W.G. Gray (1970) Helios Books: Cheltenham.
(2) Stanton Moor: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanton_Moor
(3) Nine Ladies Stone Circle: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nine_Ladies
(4) English Heritage: http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/server/show/nav.11585
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