Ostara update.
Ostara:: The Vernal Equinox. Also called Alban Eilir and the Festival of Trees. At this time, we welcome the reawakening of the Earth after winter's long sleep. Sap flows, flowers bud, the world itself is exuberant, and the vitality of the universe's life-force is palpable.
This is a day of rebirth, but it is also a day of balance. Equal parts masculine and feminine, light and dark, mercy and severity, surrender and contemplation. Our springtime celebratory perfume is crafted with orris root, bergamot, frankincense, daffodil, orange pulp, attar of rose, jonquil, strawberry leaf, benzoin, violet leaf, copal, honey cakes, sweet cream, and the blossoms of springtime.
This starts off all orris and a sweet, creamy honey scent-- kind of like a powdery, subdued Dana O'Shee-- before it morphs into something entirely else. After about a half hour, this is all strawberry leaf and spicy, dry frankincense. It's not particularly floral, thankfully, but it's also not something I'm sure I'd reach for every day. For one, it's strong. And aside from that, it truly smells like a ritual oil. I've now tried all of the Sabbat blends that BPAL has released except Yule, and this has the strongest herby "ritual" smell of the bunch. It lacks the sensuality that I associate with the first blossom of Spring, though the bright green leafy notes and a little bergamot peeking out from beneath the heavier incense does a good job of expressing the balance between Winter and Summer. Of course, maybe I'll have better luck with this year's Beltane. The first year Beltane was released, it was far too floral, and that frightened me off last year's. We'll see how it goes. And I look forward to Litha. Last year's is absolutely gorgeous-- all honey and lemon and sweet flowers.
Spring cleaning chez moi has begun. Yesterday, I did several loads of laundry, switching out my sweaters for brightly-colored tee shirts and long linen skirts. The weather's expected to start poking into the seventies later this week, and I'm eagerly anticipating the warmth. I still have to do the bedsheets, run the vacuum, and do other general tidying things before I smudge the place and let all the stale air out.
This weekend, also I had an interesting experience that helped me to crystallize my thoughts on a few things that I had noticed about my spiritual practices before, but hadn't been able to verbalize to my own satisfaction.
On Saturday afternoon, I went up to Gaia Healing Center to help the women there build their lodge for the Equinox sweat. As I understand it, the sweats at Gaia are based on Lakota tradition, and the Native American elements were certainly present-- there was a traditional steer-head and sage altar, and I'd never called the elements seven ways before (East, South, West, North, Above [Grandmothers & Grandfathers], Below [Mother Earth], and Center [The Great Mystery]). That, and I knew virtually none of the parts that were actually in Native American tongue.
Even more unfamiliar to me, however, was doing work in a group. Since I became Pagan at about age 16, with few exceptions, I have been a solitary. At first, it was transportation-related, therefore by necessity. Also by necessity because I was still living in a very Christian household. But as I got older, and had more opportunity to join in ritual with other Pagans, I rarely took the opportunity. I don't think it was solely force of habit but by that time, my spirituality had become mine and mine alone, and I didn't feel the need to involve anyone else.
I'll clarify. While I have participated in the Pagan community from an intellectual standpoint (participating in discussions, hearing talks, going to Pride events, talking about some of my experiences), I've been somewhat hesitant to actually participate in ritual with others. I think the reason is twofold.
On one hand, my experience has been somewhat of a personal thing. Most workings that I do, no one ever hears about. The specifics are recorded for myself, and generally they don't need to be discussed with anyone else. I don't have much of a problem talking about why I became Pagan or the generalities on how things work, because I feel that in general the cloud of secrecy that shrouds modern Pagans allows us to be stereotyped and marginalized. When popular culture portrays Witches, they portray either hippies with crystals and pot or billowing black clothes, tons of pentagram jewelry, and lots of goth "witchier than thou" accoutrements. I think it's important that non-sensationalized aspects are also given voice-- we are after all people, and not a label. So participating in discussion is fine. But I don't often feel the need to share the day-to-day-- generally only significant things, or surface things in passing. The spiritual component of my own work remains fairly personal to me, and I find that involving others muddies the energy a bit.
On the other, because the nature of spiritual work is so personal, working with others brings a great degree of self-consciousness for me. Protocol is different-- everything from the words you say, to the way you move, to the order in which things are done, to the energies you call upon, to the clothes you wear (or don't wear) is different. For me, this radically effects my experience, because I have to find other ways to connect, so to speak. Not that that in and of itself is a bad thing-- being more versatile is good. However, because I don't have much practice working with others in a spiritual setting, that intense self-conciousness can get in my way. I'm not used to speaking in front of others about the more personal elements of my spiritual life-- so when in a group, I have a tendency to remain silent or speak quietly. Part of this may be unfamiliarity with the material and with the tradition in general-- it is better for me to be more quietly reverential, I think, than to unknowingly cross a boundary. And it's a little like stage fright, in a way-- I feel unprepared, and so that perpetuates a feeling that I might mess up and be embarrassed (or worse, perceived as disrespectful), which tends to really get in the way of my connecting to a ritual. Considering the fact that many of the women involved at Gaia are women whom I know and respect as leaders of the community-- it adds up to me being pretty awkward and subdued in comparison to my own personal practice.
I think that this will be eased somewhat with more involvement. Though I didn't stay for the Equinox sweat due to a prior engagement, I will likely attend the next-- the Summer Solstice. Fortunately, that's a couple of months off yet, so I may be able to ease my anxiety by reading up on the tradition and familiarizing myself better with the energies and prescences involved. Having a little knowledge, after all, is better than having none at all.
This is a day of rebirth, but it is also a day of balance. Equal parts masculine and feminine, light and dark, mercy and severity, surrender and contemplation. Our springtime celebratory perfume is crafted with orris root, bergamot, frankincense, daffodil, orange pulp, attar of rose, jonquil, strawberry leaf, benzoin, violet leaf, copal, honey cakes, sweet cream, and the blossoms of springtime.
This starts off all orris and a sweet, creamy honey scent-- kind of like a powdery, subdued Dana O'Shee-- before it morphs into something entirely else. After about a half hour, this is all strawberry leaf and spicy, dry frankincense. It's not particularly floral, thankfully, but it's also not something I'm sure I'd reach for every day. For one, it's strong. And aside from that, it truly smells like a ritual oil. I've now tried all of the Sabbat blends that BPAL has released except Yule, and this has the strongest herby "ritual" smell of the bunch. It lacks the sensuality that I associate with the first blossom of Spring, though the bright green leafy notes and a little bergamot peeking out from beneath the heavier incense does a good job of expressing the balance between Winter and Summer. Of course, maybe I'll have better luck with this year's Beltane. The first year Beltane was released, it was far too floral, and that frightened me off last year's. We'll see how it goes. And I look forward to Litha. Last year's is absolutely gorgeous-- all honey and lemon and sweet flowers.
Spring cleaning chez moi has begun. Yesterday, I did several loads of laundry, switching out my sweaters for brightly-colored tee shirts and long linen skirts. The weather's expected to start poking into the seventies later this week, and I'm eagerly anticipating the warmth. I still have to do the bedsheets, run the vacuum, and do other general tidying things before I smudge the place and let all the stale air out.
This weekend, also I had an interesting experience that helped me to crystallize my thoughts on a few things that I had noticed about my spiritual practices before, but hadn't been able to verbalize to my own satisfaction.
On Saturday afternoon, I went up to Gaia Healing Center to help the women there build their lodge for the Equinox sweat. As I understand it, the sweats at Gaia are based on Lakota tradition, and the Native American elements were certainly present-- there was a traditional steer-head and sage altar, and I'd never called the elements seven ways before (East, South, West, North, Above [Grandmothers & Grandfathers], Below [Mother Earth], and Center [The Great Mystery]). That, and I knew virtually none of the parts that were actually in Native American tongue.
Even more unfamiliar to me, however, was doing work in a group. Since I became Pagan at about age 16, with few exceptions, I have been a solitary. At first, it was transportation-related, therefore by necessity. Also by necessity because I was still living in a very Christian household. But as I got older, and had more opportunity to join in ritual with other Pagans, I rarely took the opportunity. I don't think it was solely force of habit but by that time, my spirituality had become mine and mine alone, and I didn't feel the need to involve anyone else.
I'll clarify. While I have participated in the Pagan community from an intellectual standpoint (participating in discussions, hearing talks, going to Pride events, talking about some of my experiences), I've been somewhat hesitant to actually participate in ritual with others. I think the reason is twofold.
On one hand, my experience has been somewhat of a personal thing. Most workings that I do, no one ever hears about. The specifics are recorded for myself, and generally they don't need to be discussed with anyone else. I don't have much of a problem talking about why I became Pagan or the generalities on how things work, because I feel that in general the cloud of secrecy that shrouds modern Pagans allows us to be stereotyped and marginalized. When popular culture portrays Witches, they portray either hippies with crystals and pot or billowing black clothes, tons of pentagram jewelry, and lots of goth "witchier than thou" accoutrements. I think it's important that non-sensationalized aspects are also given voice-- we are after all people, and not a label. So participating in discussion is fine. But I don't often feel the need to share the day-to-day-- generally only significant things, or surface things in passing. The spiritual component of my own work remains fairly personal to me, and I find that involving others muddies the energy a bit.
On the other, because the nature of spiritual work is so personal, working with others brings a great degree of self-consciousness for me. Protocol is different-- everything from the words you say, to the way you move, to the order in which things are done, to the energies you call upon, to the clothes you wear (or don't wear) is different. For me, this radically effects my experience, because I have to find other ways to connect, so to speak. Not that that in and of itself is a bad thing-- being more versatile is good. However, because I don't have much practice working with others in a spiritual setting, that intense self-conciousness can get in my way. I'm not used to speaking in front of others about the more personal elements of my spiritual life-- so when in a group, I have a tendency to remain silent or speak quietly. Part of this may be unfamiliarity with the material and with the tradition in general-- it is better for me to be more quietly reverential, I think, than to unknowingly cross a boundary. And it's a little like stage fright, in a way-- I feel unprepared, and so that perpetuates a feeling that I might mess up and be embarrassed (or worse, perceived as disrespectful), which tends to really get in the way of my connecting to a ritual. Considering the fact that many of the women involved at Gaia are women whom I know and respect as leaders of the community-- it adds up to me being pretty awkward and subdued in comparison to my own personal practice.
I think that this will be eased somewhat with more involvement. Though I didn't stay for the Equinox sweat due to a prior engagement, I will likely attend the next-- the Summer Solstice. Fortunately, that's a couple of months off yet, so I may be able to ease my anxiety by reading up on the tradition and familiarizing myself better with the energies and prescences involved. Having a little knowledge, after all, is better than having none at all.