Found this beauty on Pinterest tagged as pretty neck tattoos for women. The artist is Zihwa Ink, and she’s super talented.
As we approach our last Tween and Teen ritual before summer break, I think about two things: how much I’ll miss the kids and parents, and how busy the next two months will be as I kick Lammas planning into high gear.
I wrote a Full Moon Strawberry and Rose ritual in 2017 for the Tween and Teen group. I remembered it fondly. And I’ve been playing with my food dehydrator drying strawberries for herbal tea blends for my tea and baking blog. I’ve been using the following ingredients to make an evening tea this week:
2 parts Chamomile, 1/2 part hibiscus, 1 part rose hips, 1/2 part hawthorn berries, 1/2 part rose petals, dried strawberries. {part = teaspoon or cup. it really depends on how much you want to blend at once. I have been keeping my dried strawberries in a separate glass jar because I’ve not yet achieved dried fruit skills that I’m confident of.}
The tea is a pink-red and tart, but with that honeyed flavour of chamomile. If I took my tea sweet, I’d add a spot of honey.
Being me, I can’t just open a script on my google drive and print it and go. Two years ago the ritual was written for the full moon. In 2019 we are meeting two days before the first quarter moon. I framed the document with our usual circle casting and closing, pasted in parts of scripts from an old waxing moon rite and the strawberry/rose ritual and got to editing.
BTW – I’m going to post this. But no one should be surprised if in a few days as I’m reading over my printed copy before I run off copies for the group I go ahead and make further edits.
Waxing Strawberry and Rose Moon Rite:
HPS:On this night as we honour the waxing moon, as we approach the season of strawberries and roses, we should pause to think of what we are looking forward to. Summer is a time of growth and development before the harvest arrives. What do you plan to manifest for yourself in the coming month? Let us take a moment to reflect upon how we have grown this spring.
Reader: This is the time of beginning anew. Tonight we are touched by the Maiden. The seed-time of the lunar course, the awakening out of the dark. now the moon emerges, a silver crescent out of the blackness, swelling to maturity. The birth giver returns from death.
Reader:The tide turns. All is transformed. The Goddess changes everything she touches. And everything she touches changes. May she open us to change and growth. This is the celebration of the moon’s return, the waxing light, the time of renewal.
Reader:Feather-soft beams of moonlight in this joyful time of new beginnings, when the moon stirs from her dark sleep and begins again to grow; the moon bursts forth heralding the maturation of flower to fruit.
Reader:It is she who caresses our nerves, smoothes them with her glowing, silky hand. She soothes us into serenity with her cool presence. The moon is mistress and mother of our watery bodies. We shall grow young again in our hearts beneath the light of her smile which floods the midnight sky with misty moon glow.
Reader:Shine out, oh horned moon, oh festal night’s befriender, shine through the night’s darkness with your silvery light. Oh pale, ethereal Goddess, gaze forth in all your splendor, with immortal eyes which look on love’s delight. Your conscious heart we know is kind to us and tender. Oh crowned queen, set our hearts aflame tonight.
Reader:Welcome moon of renewal! Shine upon us. Let the fine mists of moonlight refresh us, and rinse us clean. Turn the night into patterns of dancing light, and let us shine. Let us shine as a symbol of growth, a reflection of this season of growing and fruition. As the moon waxes, let us grow in her love and light, and foster in the world around us the goodness we wish to see.
Reader:Maiden and Mistress of the months and stars, moving in the flowerless fields of heaven; grey-eyed huntress in whose hair the crescent moon lies; lady of green meadows and flowers that will turn to fruit, we honor you this night.
Reader:Our lady of the moon, enchantment’s queen, your mirror hangs in space. Oh Goddess from the darkest deep of time! Night-roaming Goddess of the moon, make us open to your divine presence. Make us open to the wisdom and glory of your holy power so that you may be a living soul within us. implant within us the seeds of love and understanding.
Reader:Reflecting mystic light upon the earth, and every month your threefold image shines. Mistress of magic, ruler of the tides both seen and unseen. Spinner of the threads of birth and death and fate, oh, ancient one, nearest to us of heaven’s lights.
Reader:Oh Goddess of the silver light that shines in magic rays through deepest woodland glade, and over sacred and enchanted hills at still midnight, when your mystic children cast their spells, when strange things are abroad; by the cauldron of your inspiration, Goddess threefold, upon you we call.
HPS:The wheel turns. The days grow long and warm. The earth is lush and green, Gardens are bursting with the first peas, lettuce and herbs. The first sweet fruits of the season are quickening in the heat of day.
Reader:This month of June represents the culmination of spring, and the birth of summer. Roses are finally able to bloom to their full glory, spreading velvet perfumed petals. It is the month when the daisy-like blooms turn to white nubs, and swell into juicy red strawberries.
Reader:Ancient tribes of the Americas refer to the full moon of June as the Strawberry moon. We are in the days leading up to the full moon. We are waiting for the first red fruits to ripen. The ancients were only able to eat the ripe red fruit off the vine at this time of year. Today we can get strawberries year round – tasteless berries shipped from across the country and the world. No berry is as divine as the fresh one we can pick with our own hands.
Reader:Strawberries that in gardens grow
Are plump and juicy fine,
But sweeter far as wise men know
Spring from the woodland vine.
No need for bowl or silver spoon,
Sugar or spice or cream,
Has the wild berry plucked in June
Beside the trickling stream.
Reader:Each strawberry I eat, always has the perfect amount of joy. I bite into one and relish the amazing flavor. This one is sweet, better than any jam I have spread upon toast. This next one is sour and crisp, but better than any I have found in the store I eat it down to the white flesh where the leafy green top sits, And I wonder how a small white petaled blossom becomes this wonderful fruit. Then I toss the green top, and eat another.
HP:The strawberry is native to our country. Our ancestors from Europe called the full moon of June the rose moon; for the warming June is the time when roses come to full bloom. We can see the buds beginning to colour and unfurl, ready to unfurl and show us their many petaled luxury, and fill the air with their perfume.
HPS:“Oh dear! Is summer over?” I heard a rosebud moan
When first her eyes she opened, and found she was alone.
“Oh why did summer leave me, little me, belated?
Where are the other roses? I think they might have waited.”
Soon the little rosebud saw to her surprise
other rosebuds opening, so she dried her eyes
Then I heard her laughing gaily in the sun
“I thought summer was over: why, it’s only just begun!”
Reader:White roses first appeared during the birth of Aphrodite, Goddess of Love. As the sea foam washed her to shore, it turned to roses. She wears red roses upon her head and neck and feet in honor of her fallen love, Adonis. As she ran to rescue him from a hunting accident, she scratched herself on a rose thorn, splashing her blood upon the white petals, turning them red.
Reader:Roses are the flower of Isis; beauty and grace, pain and loss, rebirth and medicine. The ancients believed the bodies of the Gods exuded rose perfume, and that the scent of roses brought one in close connection to the Divine.
Reader:They are a symbol of balance. Roses express promise, new beginnings, and hope. The thorns represent defense, loss, and thoughtlessness. Roses are for love and death, for friendship and joy. Their scent is sacred around the world – it is the scent of the human soul, a reminder of spirituality and spiritual joy. It is a mystical fragrance that tells us when the Divine is near, or we have a message from a loved one who has passed on.
Reader:As the month warms and the moon waxes, the berries will ripen and the roses will open. The promise of the Maiden becomes the fullness of the Mother.
HPS:Let us relish these warm summer nights. Let us dance and sing, let us whisper our joys and sorrows to the Goddess, under the full summer moons. So Mote It Be.
All:So Mote It Be.
This ritual is composed of : Circle opening and closing taken from the Society of Elder Faiths Liturgy. The Charge of the God written by Daniel Webster Christensen, The Charge of the Goddess written by Doreen Valiente. Rite of the Waxing Moon, Adapted by Morwynna for Grove of the Mists from: Rite of the Waxing Moon, Adapted for Amaltheia Coven use by Briannan from Ganymede’s Waxing Moon Ritual and Rite of the Moon. Gaia Invocation adapted from a poem by Claudia L’Amoreaux Fox. Compiled November 2013 by Kara Renee for use in the Society of Elder Faith’s Tween and Teen Group. Edits 2019 KRN
Every time I open this script I edit it a little bit more. This year I removed the seekest but left the thees and thous. Not just pre-teens and teens, but many adults trip over the reading of fancy language.
When I was reviewing the script I realized I did not have meditations for the grounding or the creation of the temple. I referred to guided meditations I’ve been a part of in the past (covens, Isis centered retreats) to write up the two I added this year.
My 10 year old HPS in training volunteered to be HPS for this ritual. And she volunteered to read the meditations. I always give the young people the choice to read or ask someone else to read the grounding and centering at the start of ritual. This time she boldly chose to read them both. Both of her parents were in circle. I could feel them swell with pride while we were all standing there with our eyes closed, listening to her lead her first guided meditations.
The meditation I wrote for the creation of the temple made me realize there isn’t art that fits the images in my head. I’m plotting new paintings. While we can find many paintings and drawings and statues of Isis and Aphrodite, so many of Persephone do not depict her as I see her.
Before the ritual, I’ve listed props as well as words we review prior to ritual.
Props: singing bowl
Cloths for Isis (north) – black and silver
Cloths for Persephone (west) – black, purple, blue, silver
Cloths for Aphrodite (east) – green and gold
New Words and Concepts and Pronunciations:
Rhea -Greek earth goddess, daughter of Gaia and Uranus, mother of the Olympians
Binah – female manifestation of God meaning “knowledge”
Ge – Gaia
Supernal-relating to the sky or heavens
Primordial -existing since the beginning of time
Latent -hidden, concealed
Receptive – ready to receive
Glyph – an elemental symbol within an agreed set of symbols, intended to represent a readable
character for the purposes of writing.
Levanah -Hebrew moon goddess
Fecund – fertile
Amenti – Egyptian realm of the dead
The circle is not yet cast. The HPS leads a grounding and centering. Signals end of grounding with 3 bells
HPS: Close your eyes. Soften your knees. Relax your shoulders. Breathe normally.
We are going to take a journey. We are in Egypt beside the Nile. The moon above is full. There is a cool mist rising from the river.
We approach a dock where a long narrow boat is moored. We are helped aboard by servants of the temple. We seat ourselves, and the servants push the boat from the dock. We begin our journey to the temple of Isis.
The moon shines down upon the water, and on the banks of the Nile we can see the blue shadows of palm trees and reeds. We can hear the quiet drone of life of the river: insects, the snort of a hippo, the soft splash of a crocodile. All of nature around us is vibrantly alive.
The boat pulls up to a dock on the opposite side of the river. As we step out onto the dock. We notice the cool river mist is behind us, and the light of the moon seems brighter above us. The moon lights our way up a paved road. The servants bow to us. And we process up the road together.
The road is lined with cypress tree and ram-headed sphinxes. The tightly clustered branches of the evergreens shiver in the warm night breeze. The moonlight gives the impression of life to the stone guardians of the path – we can feel them watching us with steady, unblinking eyes. They watch us and protect us on our way.
We pass the last sphinxes, and two by two we walk up the stairs through the door of the temple. We pass beneath the shadow of the entrance, and emerge in a moon-lit court. In the center is a lotus pool. Tiled in brilliant colours, where blue and pink lotus flowers float sleeping. Beneath them are the shadows of fish that dart in and out of the moonlight and lotus roots. The sound of chanting and the scent of incense float on the warm air to us across the courtyard.
We enter the inner temple through a double bronze door. It is held open for us by servants of the temple. When we are all inside, they close the doors behind us. In the candle lit room, we see the walls draped in black and silver curtains. Incense smoke is heavy here. It dances before our eyes, making us believe we see movement beyond the curtains. Behind these dark drapes are images of the Holy of Holies – the faces of the Great Goddess.
The Priestesses and Priests of the temple enter. We open our eyes. We bow to one another and the ritual begins.
High Priest:These rites are designed to restore to the soul of humanity that which was lost since the childhood of the race. By means of the joy of beauty are the ancient forces awakened, and the soul of humanity is made whole that before was partial and imperfect. Here we shall erect the Temple of Isis: the temple of the life and death, the earth and moon, creation and love.
Reader 1:Under the name of Isis we personify a mode of the manifestation of power – the feminine, latent and receptive mode. This we see as a trinity in unity: Binah, Persephone, and Aphrodite, three aspects of the feminine polarity.
Reader 2:As Binah, the Supernal Mother, she is primordial space, the source of all being; as Persephone, the Compassionate Mother, she is Queen of those that sleep; these two are negative and latent; but as Aphrodite, obedient to the laws of alternating polarity, she is positive and dynamic, a giver of life.
Under the form of the Three-fold Isis we represent the feminine Glyph of Life. All women are Isis, and Isis is all women. In her glyph are deep truths to be meditated upon.
Reader 3:All who participate in the rite as worshipers must play their part, each after their kind. All women should hear the voice of the priestess speaking for them; and all men should hear in the voice of the priest their own souls speaking. Likewise they should help with the inner eye the building of the Temple as the reading describes it.
Bell is struck 3 times
THE FORMULATION OF THE TEMPLE {Colours: Black and Silver}
Altar of Isis in black and silver, photos are of ram headed sphinxes from Karnak (day and night shots), the temple of Isis, the boat of million years, and in the upper corner a lotus and a lotus pool.
HPS:Learn now the secret of the web that is woven between the light and the darkness. Whose warp is life evolving in time and space, and whose weft is spun of the lives of men. Behold we arise with the dawn of time from the grey and misty sea, and with the dusk we sink in the Western ocean; and the lives of a man are strung like pearls on the thread of his spirit. And never in all his journey goes he alone, for that which is solitary is barren.
HP:Be far from us O ye profane. Brethren of the Mysteries, we are about to invoke the descent of the power of Isis. To this end, let the Temple be sealed.
The Officers stand in their directions. Officers draw the appropriate invoking pentagrams, beginning the figure with the All part.
North: In the Name of Isis, I open the North
Guardians of the North, Powers of Earth:
Bearers of Grounding and Stability:
From mountaintops and valleys deep we call You!
All: We invoke Your Presence into our Circle
To ask Your blessing upon our rite. So Mote It Be!
East: In the Name of Isis, I open the East
Guardians of the East, Powers of Air:
Transmitters of clarity, discernment and focus,
From the whispering winds and fierce gale we call you!
All: We invoke Your Presence into our Circle
To ask Your blessing upon our rite. So Mote It Be!
South: In the Name of Isis, I open the South
Guardians of the South, Powers of Fire:
Bringers of passion, inspiration and will,
From animal heat and the molten core we call You!
All: We invoke Your Presence into our Circle
To ask Your blessing upon our rite. So Mote It Be!
West: In the Name of Isis, I open the West.
Guardians of the West, Powers of Water:
Maintainers of wisdom, intuition and compassion,
From the placid pool & the raging deeps we call You
All: We invoke Your Presence into our Circle
To ask Your blessing upon our rite. So Mote It Be!
HPS:Let the power of the Goddess extend through the Temple
Reader 4:The Temples of Isis are in sheltered places where the earth is fertile and the waters are pure. Isis is the Mother of all living; she is the mate of the male; enter her Temple with clean hands and a pure heart lest ye defile the source of Life. Be far from us O ye profane.
Reader 5:Those who adore the Isis of Nature adore her as Hathor with the horns upon her brow; but those who adore the celestial Isis know her as Levanah of the Moon. She is also the Great Deep whence Life arose. She is all ancient and forgotten things wherein our roots are cast. Upon Earth she is ever-fecund; in heaven she is ever virgin. She is the Mistress of the Tides that ebb and flow and never cease. In these things are the keys of her Mystery known to her initiated.
Reader 6:Isis is Our Lady of the Heavens and our Mother the Earth. She is all Goddesses people’s hearts have worshipped. For these are not many things, but one thing under many forms. All the Gods are One God, and all the Goddesses are one Goddess.
The Temples of Isis are built of black marble and hung with silver, and she herself is seated veiled in the Innermost. Her symbol is the cup of pure water in whose depth is the moon reflected. Let us meditate on the Inner Temple.
[Temple Building meditation: Bell is struck when finished]
HPS: The priests pull back the black and silver curtains of the inner sanctum. We move forward, through a dark passage, to the most sacred center of the temple.
At the end of the passage are torches. In this light we see the temple of Isis is cut out of black rock. The ceiling is too far and too dark for us to see.
A torch blazes to life to our right. It illuminates an image of a woman. She is ancient and timeless. She is young and old. Her brown skin looks warm and alive. Her ebony hair reflects the torch light. Her garments are carved so delicately, we can see her bare form beneath. The jewels laid upon her by the priests are precious and rare. Upon her shoulder is a hawk. In her left hand she holds an ankh of gold. Her right hand is stretched out towards you, as if to beckon you to take it and follow her.
The torch goes out. We are plunged in darkness for a moment. A torch now appears to our left. It shows another image of a woman. A queen, full of youth and strength. Her face is carved of white marble, looking both alive and dead. She has been draped in royal purple cloth by the priests. She wears no jewels but a crown of pomegranate red garnets upon her head. At her feet is an offering of wheat and pale flowers of asphodel. In her left hand is a torch carved of cypress wood, the wood of the dead, its flames painted in yellow and red ochre. In her right hand is a silver chalice of water from the well of memory, extended to you as if offering you a drink.
The second torch goes out, again keeping us in a darkness so complete we cannot see our hands before our eyes. A third torch blazes to life behind us. We turn to see another image of the goddess. She is bold and naked, carved of some pink marble that gives her a glow of life, as if blood pulsed just beneath her veined skin. She holds her long blonde hair off her neck, running her fingers through it. She looks down the length of her body, her carved eyes gazing upon her own curves and folds and naked beauty. At her feet are roses of pink and red and yellow.
In a brilliant flash of fire, the inner sanctum is lit with dozens of torches. And the priest speaks.
HP:The Temple being duly built, let us give praise to Isis.
[All priests stand in the south, all priestesses stand in the north before the altar of Isis]
O thou most holy and adorable Isis, who in the heavens art the Supernal Mother, and upon Earth our Lady of Nature, and in the astral kingdoms between heaven and earth the ever-changing moon. Thee, Thee, we adore in the symbol of the moon in her splendour ever-changing. And in the symbol of the deep sea that reflects her. And in the symbol of the opening of the gates of life. We see thee crowned in silver in the heavens; and veiled in green upon the Earth; and in thy robe of many colours at the Gates. O heavenly Silver that answers to the celestial Gold. O Green that rises from the Grey! O Rainbow Glory of Living!
HPS:O Glorious Isis, Moon and Earth and Water, and all things negative and mutable, show forth thy form. O thou that sleeps in matter and awakens in the ether, we offer unto thee that pythoness dedication. Speak with our lips; hear with our ears; touch with our hands; ray forth from us the subtle and mysterious life that was in the beginning.
Priest 1:O though that was before the earth was formed, Rhea, Binah, Ge .O tideless soundless, boundless, bitter sea. I am the invoking priest, come to me.
Priest 2:O arching sky above and earth beneath, Giver of life and bringer-in of death, Persephone, Astarte, Ashtoreth, I am the invoking priest, come unto me.
Priest 3:O golden Aphrodite, answer me; Flower of the foam, rise from the wine-dark sea. The hour of the high full moon draws near, Hear the invoking words, hear and appear – Almighty living creature of the gods, the procreative strength as Rhea, Binah, Ge.
HP:O Isis veiled and Rhea, Binah, Ge.
HPS:I come unto the priest that calleth me.
Priest 2:The hour of the full moon tide draws near
Priestess 1 :I hear the invoking words, hear and appear.
Priest 3:Almighty living creature of the gods, the procreative strength as Rhea, Binah, Ge.
HPS:I come unto the priest that calls me.
Priestess 1:I am she who ere the earth was formed Was Rhea, Binah, Ge. I am the soundless, boundless, bitter sea. Out of whose depths life wells eternally – Astarte, Aphrodite, Ashtoreth, Giver of Life, bringer-in of Death; Hera in heaven, on earth Persephone; Levannah of the Tides, and Hecate; All these am I, and they are seen in me. The hour of the high full moon draws near.
HPS:I hear the invoking words, hear and appear – Isis Unveiled, and Rhea, Binah, Ge, I come unto the priest that calls me.
Bell is struck three times. Everyone processes deosil – priestesses from north (to east, south) then stop in the west; priests from south (to west, north) then stop in the east
PERSEPHONE [Colours: Blue, Silver, Black and Purple]
Blue sparkly over purple cloth, with our standard candles. I could not find art work that went with the image I put in the meditation.
HP:Be far from us, O ye profane, for the unveiling of the Goddess is at hand. Look not upon her with impure eyes, lest ye see your own damnation. The unrepentant and untaught man gazes upon the face of Nature, and he sees only darkness of darkness. But the initiated and illuminated man gazes thereon and sees therein reflected the Luminous Image of the Creator. Be far from us O ye profane, while we adore God made manifest in Nature.
Priestess 2:I am the veiled Isis of the shadows of the Sanctuary. I am she that moves as a shadow behind the tides of Death and Birth. I am she that comes forth by night and no man sees my face. I am older than time and forgotten of the gods. No man may look upon my face and live, For in the hour he parts my veil, he dies.
HP:There is one man that looks upon thy face. Behold, I am the sacrifice. I part thy veil and die to the birth.
Priest 4:The daughter of the Great Mother is Persephone- Queen of Hades, Ruler of the Kingdom of Sleep. At death men go to her across the Dark River, and she is the keeper of their souls until the Dawn. But there is also a death in life and this likewise leads on to re-birth, for there is a turning within of the soul whereby men come to Persephone.
She is also the Great Sea whence Life arose, to which all shall return at the end of an aeon. Herein do we bathe in sleep, sinking back into the primordial deep, returning to things forgotten before Time was; and the soul is renewed, touching the Great Mother. Whosoever cannot return to the Primordial have no roots in Life. They are the living dead that are orphaned of the Great Mother.
Priest 5:There are two deaths by which men die, the greater and the lesser. The death of the body and the death of Initiation. And of these two, the death of the body is the lesser. The man who looks upon the face of Isis dies, for the goddess takes him.
He that would die to the birth, let him look upon the face of the goddess in this mystery. Be far from us, O ye profane, for one goes by the Path that leads to the Well-head beside the White Cypress.
Priest 6:Isis veiled, and Rhea, Binah, Ge. Lead me to the well of memory – The well-head where the pale white cypress grows – By secret twilight paths that no man knows; The shadowy path that dividing into three. Diana of the Ways and Hecate; Selene of the Moon, Persephone. I see it now, the shadowy path appears Wrapped in the gloom of immemorial years Veiled in the mists and shadows of all Time, Soft, still and calm in solitude sublime.
Priest 7:And now appears the Well and Sacred Tree Whereto come all who long for memory. Thronged all about with shades of the dim past Of pain and sorrow changed to joy at last. The mists disperse, the shadows grow more bright And through the glimmer falls thy pale soft light. This way is not for one who goes alone’, Not to the loveless is the Well-head shown. To search unscathed within its deepest deep Both priest and priestess must the vigil keep. Strength joined to Love makes the path On which the soul can mount to Heaven.
HP:O, Overlord of all the gods above Greatest Eldest Brother, first-left, last-found Love. In all our ways we claim Thy potent aid. Who seek the Truth and seek it unafraid. The high full moon in the mid-heaven shines clear, O hear the invoking words, hear and appear – Almighty living creature of the gods, the procreative strength as Rhea, Binah, Ge.
Priestess 3:I am that soundless, boundless, bitter sea; All things in the end shall come to me. Mine is the kingdom of Persephone, The Inner Earth where lead the Pathways Three. Who drinks the waters of that hidden Well Shall see the things whereof he dare not tell; Shall tread the shadowy paths that leads to me – Diana of the Ways, and Hecate; Selene of the Moon, Persephone.
Priestess 4:I am the secret Queen Persephone; All the tides are mine and answer unto me. Tides of the Airs, Tides of the Inner Earth; The secret silent Tides of Death and Birth; Tides of men’s souls, and dreams of destiny- Isis unveiled and Rhea, Binah, Ge.
HPS:Sink down, sink down, sink deeper and sink deep Into eternal and primordial sleep. Sink down, sink down, be still and draw apart Into the Earth’s most secret heart. Drink of the waters of Persephone, The secret well beside the sacred Tree. Waters of strength and life and inner Light Primordial joy drawn from the deeps of night. Then rise, made strong, with life and hope renewed, Reborn from darkness and from solitude. Blessed with the blessings of Persephone, And secret strength from Rhea, Binah, Ge.
Bell is struck three times. All process deosil. Priestess move from west (to north) and stand before the eastern altar; priests move from east (to south) and stand before the western altar.
APHRODITE [Colours: Green and Gold]
Classical images of Aphrodite and a polymer clay rose decorated image I created for our June full rose and strawberry moon ritual.
HP:Learn now the mystery of the ebbing and flowing tides. That which is dynamic in the Outer is latent in the inner, for that which is above is as that which is below. Isis of Nature awaits the coming of her Lord, the Sun. She calls him: she draws him from the place of the Dead, the kingdom of Amenti where all things are forgotten. And he comes to her in his boat called Millions of Years, and the Earth grows green with the springing grain. For the desire of Osiris answers to the call of Isis. And so it will ever be in the hearts of humans, for thus the gods have formed them. Whomever denies this is abhorred of the gods. But in the heavens our Lady Isis is the Moon, and the Moon powers are hers. She is also the Priestess of the Silver Star that rises from the twilight sea.
Hers are the magnetic moon-tides ruling the hearts of men. In the Inner, she is all-potent. She is the Queen of the Kingdoms of Sleep. All the invisible workings are hers, and she rules all things before they come to birth. Even as through Osiris her mate the Earth grows green with springing grain, so the mind of humans conceive through her power. This secret concerns the inner nature of the goddess, which is dynamic. Let us show forth in a rite the dynamic nature of the goddess that the minds of us all may be as fertile as the fields.
Priest 8:O Isis veiled on earth but shining clear In the mid-heaven now the full moon draws near; Hear the invoking words, hear and appear. O evening star, rise from the twilight sea. Answer the Inner Earth, Persephone. Giver of life and bringer-in of death, Astarte, Aphrodite, Ashtoreth, Flower of the bitter foam, come unto me, Isis unveiled, and Rhea, Binah, Ge.
Priest 9:O Isis veiled on earth, but shining clear In the mid-heaven now the full moon is near; O hear the invoking words, hear and appear. The lonely earth is hungering after thee. Come in the night, give light that we may see, O Isis of men’s hearts, come unto me.
Priestess 5: I am the star that rises from the sea, the twilight sea. I bring men dreams that rule their destiny. I bring the moon times to the souls of humans; The tides that flow and ebb and flow again; These are my secret, these belong to me. Hera in heaven, on earth Persephone. Levannah of the Tides and Hecate. Veiled Isis, Aphrodite from the sea, All these am I, and they are seen in me.
Priestess 6:I am the Eternal Woman, I am She. The tides of all human souls belong to me; The tides that flow and ebb and flow again, The silent inward tides that govern humans; These are my secret, these belong to me. Out of my hands people take their destiny; Touch of my hands confers serenity; These are the Moon-tides, these belong to me, Isis unveiled and Rhea, Binah, Ge.
Priest 10:O Thou whose power drew forth the Prime Mover from the ancient stillness. O Thou from whose body first Being began. O Thou whose beauty moved Ptah on his throne to desire. By thy beauty and body we adore and invoke.
The desire of thy body put chains on his neck, In pursuit of thy beauty did he make himself manifest. O Thou whose desire is in all things that be – By the power of thy beauty we adore and invoke.
Priest 11:By the power of the Old Night, whence all sprang, we invoke Thee. By the first mystic swirl in the stillness that told of Thy power, we invoke Thee. By the net which Thou wove to draw Ptah from his heaven, we invoke Thee. By the kisses that smote him with death that the world might be born, we invoke Thee. By thy merciful veil, by thy scourgings and pangs, By thy sweet secret places, by midnight and moon, By earth and by water – Isis, Light of the Heavens And Desire of the World – I invoke, I invoke, I invoke!
Bell is struck three times. Everyone stays in their places.
Reader:Persephone, O Queen of my desire! Thy radiant Light fills me with soft moon-fire Persephone, Persephone, Queen of the Night, we call for Thee
Reader:In outer space the springs of being rise; With tidal sweep life streams across the skies, And in our hearts awake the slumbering fires. Thou are the Queen of Dreams and of Desires. Persephone, Persephone, Queen of the Night, we long for Thee.
Reader:O star-crowned Queen of Outer Space Who holds vast worlds in they embrace. All who are loved and all who love Bring down thy radiance from above, Persephone, Persephone, Whosoever loves is one with Thee.
Reader:O Goddess Queen, draw gently near, Thou whom all see, Appear! Appear! To lonely folk on lonely ways Come down in dreams of silver haze. Persephone, Persephone, All in the end shall come to Thee.
Bell is struck three times. All bow to one another
HP:Is is finished. Those who have received the Touch of Isis have received the opening of the gates of the Inner Life. For them the tides of the Moon shall flow and ebb and flow in their cosmic rhythm. To them that adore Isis, she brings tranquility, and to the favoured few she comes as in a dream.
All participants form a circle, only the HP and HPS stand before the main (northern) altar
Cakes and Wine
The HPS (standing in northwest) holds the chalice while the HP (standing in the northeast) holds the athame above the chalice. At the last line, HP places blade in the chalice to bless it.
Blessing over Wine:
All:As the Athame is to the Fires of Heaven…
So the Cup is to the Depths of the Sea…
And conjoined, they are One in Truth!
HPS sips from chalice, passes it to HP to have a sip. He then hands the chalice to the person next to him, who holds it until after the cakes are blessed.
HP holds the plate while the HPS holds her hands over the plate for the blessing
Blessing over Cakes:
All:Lady and Lord bless this food,
Symbolic of Your Bounty,
That in sharing it we affirm our Common Bond!
HPS takes cake, then the HP. The person holding the chalice takes a sip and passes it along the circle with a “Blessed Be” and optional kiss. The HP then hands the cakes to the person next to him and the cakes are passed the same way as the chalice.
Opening the Circle
Dismiss the Elements in each direction as below. Elemental Officers stand in their quarters. Each officer should direct the participants to face the appropriate direction.
North Officer:Guardians of the North
We thank you for your presence and blessing,
And as you return to your holy realm
We say “Hail and Farewell!”
All: Hail and Farewell!
East Officer:Guardians of the East
We thank you for your presence and blessing,
And as you return to your holy realm
We say “Hail and Farewell!”
All: Hail and Farewell!
South Officer: Guardians of the South
We thank you for your presence and blessing,
And as you return to your holy realm
We say “Hail and Farewell!”
All:Hail and Farewell!
West Officer:Guardians of the West
We thank you for your presence and blessing,
And as you return to your holy realm
We say “Hail and Farewell!”
All: Hail and Farewell!
After all dismissals are finished all present join hands, and led by the HPS all say:
HPS:Let those who have seen the high rite of the great goddess keep her in their hearts.
The Temple of Isis is now closed. The circle is open, but yet unbroken.
All:Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again! So mote it be!
This ritual is composed of : Circle opening and closing taken from the Society of Elder Faiths Liturgy. Original ritual written by Dion Fortune, compiled and published by Gareth Knight as Dion Fortune’s Rites of Isis and Rites of Pan 2013. Adapted by Kara for use with the Society of Elder Faiths Tween and Teen Esbat Group 2016. Further edits to original text 2019 KRN
When my godson and I wrote and scheduled the Rite of Lethe, he asked for us to do the rite on his birthday weekend. The next birthdays are two Leos, so I asked if they had any requests for rituals. I foolishly thought they might have a fave from the archives. My youngest (just turned 12) requested an all new Persephone ritual where we meet her in the Underworld. I have time to work on a Rite of Thoth for my 15 year old Leo. I’ve never written anything for him before. Must do lots of research!
I have never made it a secret to the kids that Persephone is one of my patron deities. I’ve researched and written about her for years. I’ve choreographed belly dance routines for her. I made jewelry in her honor. I named my cat after her.
Seffie likes to be involved in ALL the human things.
My godson contributed again to this script. I threw him a curve ball by not taking us through ‘the usual’ Underworld pit stops (Charon, the River Styx, Cerberus). I took a different route, and a much more feminist slant. I used the story of Demeter and Persephone from Lost Goddesses of Early Greece as the basis, and got inspiration from a few other favourite resources.
It is another ritual with introduction, meditative journey, and words of the deity we are meeting. The birthday girl read the part of Persephone.
In the meditation, we took some liberties with the sights inside the Plutonian cave. The underground water is an actual cave pond in Mexico. Specific Greek wild life provided by my godson.
A painting I’m unhappy with, a battery tea light pomegranate sconce from an old craft, and my Persephone doll
Reader: What do we know of Dread Queen Persephone? Daughter of Demeter and Zeus, wife of Hades, she is beloved and life-giving. She holds the doors of Hades under the depths of the earth; Transactor of Justice, her beloved hair the sacred olive branch of the enemy. Mother of the Furies, Queen of the Underworld; Mother of loud-shouting, many-shaped Bacchus.Playmate of the moving seasons, light-bringing, of beautiful form.
Reader: Holy, ruler of all, maiden, showering fruits, radiant, honored, she alone is longed for by mortals. She is Spring, the delight of fragrant meadows. Her sacred body appears to us in growing fruits and branches. She alone is life and death to distressed mortals. She is forever the nourisher and the death-bringer. She sends up fruits from the earth so we may live… and in death she is the soothing hand that smooths our brow.
Reader: Neither stolen, nor raped Persephone chose her dual role of Flower Maiden and Dread Queen. Her name means “Dazzling Brilliance” and “She Who Destroys The Light”. Too dark for heaven, yet too bright for hell, She is a Goddess of balance. She is the Gentle Mistress of Spring and the Inexorable Mistress of Autumn.
Reader: There was once no winter. The seasons of planting, growing and harvesting blended together, never ending, always fruitful. The world knew no famine nor fallow time. The war with the Titans was ended, and the Olympian siblings ruled from their thrones -Hestia at the heart of every home, Zeus and Hera in heaven, Poseidon upon the seas, Hades in the Underworld where he guarded the monsters and Titans to keep them from escaping, and Demeter upon the earth.
Reader: Demeter had domain of the earth, passed on from her mother and grandmother – beneath the surface where seeds sprouted, the fertile fields, the wilderness and woods. She drew forth the crops and wild plants. In the pits beneath the surface she taught mortals to store seed from harvest until sowing so that contact with the spirits of the Underworld would fertilize the seed. The spirits of the dead crossed the veil with impunity, always restless, looking for peace. Yet her focus was always on feeding the living.
Reader: Kore was distressed at the wanderings of the souls. What could she do to ease them? Could she inherit another facet of the kingdom of earth from Demeter, as had been passed to her by her mother and grandmother, each roles becoming more defined through time. How important was her role as flower maiden to her Mother? Did she not have the Anthusae, nymphs of flowers? Was Khloris not a Goddess of flowers? Kore was the daughter of mighty Zeus and brilliant Demeter. She should be more than another flower maiden.
Reader: As Mother to Daughter – from Gaia to Rhea to Demeter – queen to queen, Kore chose her realm.
Close your eyes… take one deep breath and exhale slowly. Allow your breathing to become normal.
Reader: You stand at the mouth of the Plutonian Cave at Eleusis. Jagged red-orange and grey cliff hangs above you, covered in grasses and shrubs up the slopes. The ground at your feet is rocky, tufts of grass grow between the ancient limestone blocks where the temple used to stand. Bright yellow calendula flowers sway in the sunlight. The air is full of birdsong. A breeze, stagnant and cold, materializes from the depths of the cave. Icy fingers seem to trace your skin. You shudder. You stare, paralyzed. Your chiton blows about in the wind, then gently falls against you. This is the call. Your feet are compelled to move forward.
You walk into the cave, your footsteps echoing. On the cavern wall is a torch. The blazing tip smells of resin and beeswax. You lift it from the ancient bracket, rusted with the damp of centuries, and walk forward.
A curved staircase leads down to its haunting interior. Steps hewn centuries ago to follow the path of Persephone. The dark indentations and enigmatic cracks etched into the cave’s rear walls are symbols of passages to the underworld. You run your fingers over the cracks and carved figures. You know this is the way.
The steps wind down, deeper into the earth. The air is cool, but the breeze, whistling somewhere from the depths, chills your skin. You walk down, sandaled feet slapping on the stone. One hand clutching your torch, the other touching the wall. You descend…
The path that you take leads you through a maze of stalagmites that rise from the ground, each one seeming to have a corresponding stalactite on the ceiling. Karpathos salamanders scamper around your feet and tiny cross orb-weaver spiders crawl along the cavern walls. Webs have been formed between the various cavern points which you are mindful to stay away from so as to not disturb the ecosystem. Your steps head downward…
A pool of aqua blue water sits in the center of the cave. You hear the occasional plink of a rock or droplet of water breaking the surface. The pool glows as if lit by phosphorescent lights from below the surface. The crystal blueness shines through, illuminating the cave. You pause, filled with a sense of wonder. This is a place where the feet of the Goddess have tread. You pause to drink in the sight… and with a sigh you turn your steps and walk down…
An echoing shriek causes you to jump as you look up to see a tiny horseshoe bat clinging to the roof of the cave among the various stalactites. You lift your torch as high as you can reach, and see that tiny bat is not alone. The roof above you is dark with their winged bodies. The floor beneath you is covered in their droppings. Not afraid, but not wanting to dawdle, you walk through this cavern and walk down…
The path levels out. The broken rocks and stalagmites give way to a carefully laid floor. Flagstones in labyrinthine patterns, in shades of greys, reds and blues, guide your steps. Mosaic scenes of flowers and fruits, cornucopias bursting with vegetables, and glittering gold sheaves of wheat line the path. You see poppies and rye, grapes and olives laid out in tiny shimmering glass tiles. Precious stones are set as the eyes of livestock, and the seeds of pomegranates.
A sudden stillness sends a shiver down your spine as your torch shines upon an imposing woman. She sits on her throne – back erect, head held high. She wears her hair up, twisted and plaited as a married woman does. Around her long white neck sparkle blood-red gems. Pomegranate seed shaped garnets adorn her ears, and glitter upon her fingers. The soft light of the underworld, muted like an overcast day, gives a dull luster to her purple silk chiton. Her garment falls in folds around her as she rises to greet you.
Ps of Persephone: I took up a torch and an armful of wheat.I did not tell my mother where I was going, I was not sure if my idea would work. But I had to try, for the sake of the beloved dead. I walked for days from the mouth of a cave to the depths of the earth. No sunlight shone upon me. My sun-kissed skin grew pale and moon-white. In the darkness, by the light of my torch, I saw millions of souls wandering and lost. They wept and stumbled about in the black, unable to see one another, crying out for the lives and loves they lost. I plucked a pomegranate – food of the dead – from a tree and tore it open with my thumb. The juice dripped down my hand and stained my palm and wrist like blood.
I stood on a high place and planted the torch beside me. I cried out “Demetreoi! People of Demeter! In life you honored my mother and the fertility of earth. Come to me for a blessing and I shall open your eyes. I will teach you the mysteries of death and rebirth.”
They came to me, wailing and crying, scared and alone. I blessed each forehead with pomegranate juice, and kissed each cheek with my now cold lips. Every soul who came to me opened their eyes. They recognized me and thanked me. One by one, the beloved dead began to recognize one another. They collected in family groups and villages – eons of souls trapped in death, in between lives.
In the fields of Elysium I taught them how to forgive those who harmed them in life. I showed them how to let go of the former earthly body, and how to live for the soul. For every incarnation they were born to, if they honored my mother and the cycles of life and death, if they understood the mystery that the grain is not just the food, but the seed – that I, the child am in the seed, and once planted grows into the flower maiden, to become the mother, to die again at the harvest, and to sleep in the bosom of the earth until spring for all years to come – they would be born again and again. There would be no damnation, no hell.
Hades, Lord of the Underworld, Jailer of the Titans, Judge of the Evil Dead, saw the light I brought into his realm. He craved the light and the life I brought to his darkness. His tender heart was overwhelmed with duty and suffering. He had been brought down by the souls who wandered around Tartarus and in the Elysian Fields, for their sorrow weighed upon his heart. He watched me bless the beloved dead, and how they rejoiced in their afterlife. Some drank from Lethe, others from Mnemosyne, each ready to be born again. Some waited for their loved ones still alive. And others decided they had seen enough of life and chose to stay to comfort those who would come.
He is not the God of Death – for that is Thanatos. He is not the God of sleep, for that is Thanatos’ twin brother Hypnos. He was the God of hidden wealth beneath the earth – metals and stones. He was the judge of those who committed crimes in life.
His face was fair, his hair ebony curls. His beard was full and soft. At the end of the line of beloved dead he stood in awe of me. With every step he took closer to me, he fell more in love. I saw him not, busy as I was with my chosen task. When he stood before me, he fell to his knees. He said he had never seen a woman as lovely as me, and the compassion I showed to the souls moved him to tears. I plucked another pomegranate and tore it open with my stained fingers. Pale hands and forearms streaked with blood-red juice. I don’t know why I did it, but I blessed his head. I guided him to standing, my hand cupping that black bearded jaw until he was eye to eye with me. As I leaned in to place my lips upon his cheek as I had done to millions before him, I paused. My heart pounded in my chest, my skin tingled and hummed.
Through my touch he understood what his realm could be. With my blessing he knew peace and tenderness. Hades bowed to me as a Goddess of the Dead. He honored me with gifts as a Queen, as my mother and their mothers before. He asked me what boons I would give him if I married him. For only through marriage to me would he be a God of the Earth.
As we fed one another seeds from the garnet fruit in my hand, I gave him the privilege of presiding over funeral rites, and defending the right of the dead to due burial. Every human was given the honor of being buried so their bodies would return to the earth, and their souls to me. And with our union together we nourish the seed-grain. The precious seeds mother taught people to preserve in earthen jars beneath the soil to save for planting, we would bless with fertility. For while love is love, and is not determined by gender or identity, only the union between a woman and man brings new life.
My story explains the change of seasons, the end of the Golden Age of eternal spring and summer and harvest. But I do not disappear during your winter, and I do not abandon my throne in your spring. I am both light and dark. I am both the crocus and the rotten flesh. I am the fragrant blossom that turns to fruit, that is eaten, and I am the seed inside that is planted to make a new tree, to grow more fruit. I am in the bud and petal. I am in the darkness and shadow. I am the lupines that sway in a warm breeze, the poppy that brightens the wheat field. I am the embrace at the end of life, welcoming all to rest.
Work in progress, by me
Reader: She bows her head to you. You bow deeply to the queen. Your time with Persephone is over for now, for you are alive and must return. Your feet walk across the mosaic and tiled floor, the bright colours fading to the flagstones.
As you make your way up through the bat cave, you notice the ceiling is empty. The horseshoe bats have flown up to hunt in the night. You walk under their flight path, upwards…
The aqua blue pool glows magically as you pass. You wish you had time to touch it, to break the surface with your hands or bare feet, but you turn and walk up…
The path begins to slope upward. You walk through the maze of stalagmites. A salamander scampers up a stalagmite to blink at you in your torch light.
You begin walking up the curved staircase, one hand upon the cave wall, your sputtering torch in your other. Your hand feels the cracks and ancient carvings. You walk up…
You can now see the entrance to the cave. A bright moon lights the evening sky. Bats swoop in the blue night catching moths. You place your nearly extinguished torch in the bracket. You walk out of the cave and into the cool evening.
Your steps take you across the ancient floor of the crumbled temple complex. You pause to look up at the waning moon. You close your eyes and breathe deeply. Take yourself back to your body, back to your room, where you are safe. Wiggle your fingers. Wiggle your toes. Stretch and be aware of your body.
When you are ready, open your eyes.
Reader:Persephone teaches us compassion. Hades and the souls of the beloved dead cry out for the light and beauty of the Goddess. She brings great joy. She knows the land of life and the laws that control time. And she knows the land of death, of paradise.
Reader:Hail Queen of Tartarus and Elysium!
Generous Lady who has brought light into the realms below,
Beauty You have brought to Elysium,
And perfect justice to the realm of Tartarus.
You are the Beloved of Death, who brings joy
To the King of the Underworld.
In rich robes, jeweled and crowned,
Wise and full of loving kindness,
You reside in Tartaurs’ palace
Enthroned with the Lord Hades
Dispensing in compassion your laws.
And in Elysium,
Wreathed and garlanded in fragrant flowers,
You welcome the dead under the spreading pomegranate tree
Where you prepare them for another way of being
One in which divinity is awake in the heart
O fair Persephone, Mistress of Beauty and Light Come and bless us.*
yeah, it’s Aphrodite wrapped in purple and garnets.
Life in this Pandemic Era has given me the opportunity to write about and for deities I either haven’t met before, or dive deeper into ones I met years ago. This week the teens requested a ritual for the crocodile headed God of Egypt – Sobek. Some of the teens and I have worked with him before. Four years ago on retreat we did a ritual with the small kids and adults https://glitterandgods.wordpress.com/2017/08/22/sobek-ritual-summer-fun-our-egyptian-year-2016/
Sobek draped in one of my carnelian necklaces, surrounded by carnelian. The blue is the water mentioned in the ritual below.
The teens who had attended that weekend remember the ritual fondly. I still think the gingerbread cookies filled with red frosting as the enemies of Sobek was the height of my family ritual planning. We all have a great deal of affection for Petsuchos.
Petsuchos 2016 with offerings from one of the kids
I still have my little journal where I still take notes for all my ritual writing. I revisited those pages, as well as the source documents and books. The Academia.edu site is also a favourite resource of mine. While not spiritual or religious in nature, I want to fill my brain with as much knowledge of art and jewelry and architecture and history as possible.
And that last line above is how I approach teaching the teens how to write rituals. My godson and I were joined on this writing journey by another teen. While Tyler and I are very much alike in our approach to research, Lou wandered into fantasy. We had to reel him back and introduce him to thesaurus.com, photos of the Nile, science websites on crocodiles and plant life, photos of sunsets in Egypt, what people of ancient Egypt wore (much giggling over topless attire and wondering if women’s breasts got sunburned). We explained that the ancients observed the world around them, they didn’t imagine it, they saw it, they lived it, they lost limbs and lives to it.
Petsuchos and Hapi
Tyler and I think we have a ritual format for this group that we like:
Introduction to place and deity
Journey to meet the deity in the form of guided meditation
I added Hapi (God of the Nile), Tawaret (often paired with Sobek), and Nut (because she is mentioned in the ritual)
Ritual for Sobek
Reader: The Nile River is a beautiful and dangerous place. The land of Kemet is dry and vast. The Nile cuts through the center of the land giving life along its banks. But it can also take life away. Along its shores and in its depths live creatures that will harm people – snakes, hippos and crocodiles. On the banks grow papyrus and blue lotus flowers, chamomile and full white poppies.
Reader:The ancient Egyptians saw the power and beauty, terror and wonder in their world. They symbolized the strengths and faults of their gods in the animals around them. They saw the benefit of darkness. They understood the desolation of the desert. They knew the importance of chaos. To balance these forces, they also honored the light, the protection of the desert of their black fertile land; and order.
Reader: One of the most powerful and dangerous animals in the Nile is the crocodile. A crocodile lurks at the surface, blending in with rocks among the reeds, waiting for its victims. It must be careful when searching for prey. The power in its jaws are in the closing, not in the opening. The terror in the kill is in the death roll, as it twists and spins its meal under water, tearing flesh and bone. The crocodile’s power to snatch and destroy its prey was thought to be symbolic of the power of the pharaoh.
Reader : Sobek is Lord of the Waters. He is Lord of the low-lying lands, ruler of the desert edge. He who crosses the back-waters, mighty God whose seizing cannot be seen, who lives by plunder, who fares downstream by this beauty, who fares upstream by his dominance. His sweat created the Nile River. He controls the rise of the Nile and is responsible for making the land fertile. He is called He Who Makes the Herbage Green. He who makes barley and brings wheat into being, that he may make the temples festive.
Reader: If he,as the life of the Nile, is sluggish, then the nostrils are stopped up, the land is not made fertile, and everybody is poor. If there be a cutting down in the food-offerings of the gods, then a million men perish among mortals, greed is practised, the entire land is in a fury, and great and small die.People are different when he approaches. When he rises, then the land is in jubilation, then every belly is in joy, every backbone takes on laughter, and every tooth is exposed.
Reader: The bringer of food, rich in provisions, creator of all good, lord of majesty, sweet of fragrance. What is in him is satisfaction. He who brings grass into being for the cattle and gives sacrifice to every God, whether he be in the underworld, heaven, or earth. He who takes in possession the Two Lands, fills the storehouses, makes the granaries wide, and gives food to the poor.
Reader:Crocodiles lay their eggs on the river bank. In the sand they lay dozens of eggs, their gender dependent upon the temperature of the sand. Sobek is a God of creation. He laid his eggs on the banks of the Nile, starting the process of creation, and bringing life to the world. Since Sobek laid the eggs of creation, we honor him as two-spirited, intersex, a viril deity complete unto himself.
Reader: He is Sobek, who lives amid his terrors. He is Sobek who seizes his prey like a starving beast.He is the Great Fish in the Nile. The lord of fishes, he who makes the marsh-birds to go upstream. There are no birds which come down because of the hot winds.
Reader: Sobek, strong one, your strength is great! May you go through the Lake-land, traverse the Great-Green land of Egypt, to Crocodilopolis where you are Worshipped. Oh Sobek: great of the chase, cruel of attack! You are the watchful runner with sharp teeth, who seizes by his might. He is Sobek, with the alert face and raised force. He is Sobek, the splashing one of tail and thigh. He is Sobek, pointed of teeth, The White-Toothed One.
Reader: To worship Sobek, we must be brave. He is terrifying, a devourer. But he is a protector and fertile parent, giver of fish and grain, grass for cattle, and water for life. Let us take our carnelian in our hand… close our eyes… take one deep breath and exhale slowly. Allow your breathing to become normal.
Reader: Open your inner eyes. The sun beats down on you. Your sandaled feet are pressed into the ground. You begin your journey to the Carnelian Temple. Sand is coarse and irritating and gets everywhere. Sweat runs down your face and chest. As it falls to the ground it evaporates in an instant. Various arthropods crawl and scamper along with you but none seem to attack; not even the most lethal of deathstalker scorpions. The kilt you wear sways in the light wind that sweeps through the barren land. Your sandals have made an imprint on the sand as you look at the seemingly never ending desert with various palm trees scattered throughout. You take your first step on the way to the mountain Bakhu. The heavens rest upon the tops of a split mountain. In the west is Manu, where the sun sets, where the dead go to the afterlife. In the east is Bakhu. The base of these cosmic mountains are guarded by Aker, seen as the twin lions with the sun between them.
The arid land begins to give way to spots of green. The land is fertile in the places where the river floods. It becomes overgrown with flax and wheat, banana and palm trees. There is no clear path ahead but the distant mountain stands above even the tallest tree. Somewhere along your walk to the mountain you start to notice the sound of a flowing river. You keep away from the banks knowing the dangers that lie in wait. You watch as a lone ibex wanders near for a drink. Like a flash of lightning a crocodile lunges from the surface; snapping its jaws down on the herbivore’s neck. Sharp teeth bury in the brown fur at the ibex’s throat. It tries to twist its neck to butt the predator as it struggles to escape. The water splashes as the crocodile thrashes. The massive curled horns twist in the roiling waters. The crocodile is relentless, and rolls for the finishing kill as the water turns a deep red.
The waters lap against the bank as the crocodile takes its prey below. The surface grows calm. And you walk on.
Along your way you come face-to-face with a lion. It stands about 3 or 4 heads taller than you with eyes that burn through you. It blocks your way and you notice that its fur is spotted. This is Aker, the guardian of Bakhu. You bow to him. His yellow eyes are brightand piercing. He holds his ground, looking into your soul. You tremble, but hold his gaze. With a slight nod, he moves and your journey to the Carnelian Temple at the mountain’s summit begins.
You begin your climb. The grasses and palms of the low land give way to barren slopes and rocks. You realize quickly that your sweaty palms hinder your mobility as you pull yourself up the treacherous path. The sun begins to set behind the mountain. Just as you reach a landing a fennec fox almost causes you to fall as it leaps from the shadows. It snatches a deathstalker scorpion from the path in front of you. You are startled, but grateful the small fox spared you the painful sting. With what is left of the sunlight you can see a faint red shine not too far away.
As you get closer, the pillars of the temple entrance loom tall and broad against the darkening sky. Painted in reds and oranges, inlaid with cabochons of carnelian, the temple looks like part of the scarlet sunset. Looking upon the visage of Sobek painted on the walls, blood red and warm, your tired feet shake off the sand and enter.
The sound of your sandals upon the cool limestone floor echoes in the darkness. Your way is lit by torches gripped in the hands of statues of the crocodile headed God. You pause at a narrow doorway. In this room is a pool, sunken into the floor. Resting in the water is a young crocodile wearing beaded necklaces and gold bands around their ankles.
Petsuchos, son of Sobek, beloved living image of the God, blinks his eyes slowly at you. You reach into a bucket of fish on the floor, and toss some to him gently in offering. He snaps the fish up quickly, and sinks beneath the water. It is safe for you to pass through to the inner sanctum.
In the center of the inner sanctum is a throne. A stream runs across the floor, separating you from the throne.The room is in shadows and full of hushed sounds, like a heavy tail dragging across stone. A glimmer of light comes through the western window as the sun sinks. You see a long snout lean forward slightly. Nostrils flare as he sniffs the air. He has sensed you.
You freeze. The heat of the desert and the exhaustion of your trek up the mountain have left your body. Cold sweat trickles down the back of your neck, your bare back, and moistens the waistband of your kilt. You came here to meet Sobek, to face your fears, to honor him. And you are paralyzed.
You open your mouth to speak, but your tongue fails you. Sobek leans forward so more of the last rays of sun illuminate his face. The grey-green leathery face casts shadows over his human body. The clink of heavy bracelets echoes in the chamber as he settles his arms upon his throne. Human fingers strum the arm rests, bejeweled with rings of red and gold. You fall to your knees at the edge of the stream as it cuts through the stone floor, and Sobek speaks.
P of Sobek:If you stand only on the safety of the banks spearing fish, how can you know the depths of the river, which is my realm? How can you fathom the darkness under a ledge of rock or understand the life of the fish writhing on your spear? You mistake the teeth of the crocodile as the edge of the abyss, but the chasm is more terrible than teeth and claw, and more certain.
I fulfill the law and the law demands your blood. I am Sobek, the crocodile, the catastrophe, the devourer, the necessity. Crushed between my jaws, you shall be blessed for you will glimpse truth. I am only the secrets of your own dark heart, your lust, your greed, your anger, your flesh. As long as you breathe, I shall exist to snatch you from yourself, to grind your bones and chew your flesh, to tear the darkness from your heart. I am the living power of water, the cry that catches in the throat, the sob that shatters stone.
On my teeth you smell the stink of flesh, and the tang of blood which flows not only through your veins, but others as well. To you I seem a living horror, a monster made in neither darkness nor light. But I tell you in truth, I am your own soul and it is with great sorrow that I crush the life you have made. I weep with the loss, but you do not believe. Such destruction is madness you say. You do not understand. Is it madness to cut the wheat so that bread can be made? When you were born into this bright land, did you not weep for the lost dark of the womb?
Whether or not you understand the law, you exist because of it.Lean forward if you dare, and drink from my waters. I bestow health and strength to those of humble and pure hearts. Drink of my waters, aware of the dangers, and be brave. When you’ve reached the lips of the great devourer, you are staring into the jaws of creation. Submit to my mercy and be cleansed of weakness and disease. Drink of my waters and I will heal your pain.
(pause for participants to imagine drinking the water)
I am the Lord of the Waters! I protect the good and punish the evil. I am a healer. I make the plants green. I am Sobek, the Hunter, who destroys my enemies swiftly with my teeth. I am the double spirited one who not only gives life to the world, but can take life away. I am the Crocodile-god who dwelleth amid his terrors. I am the Crocodile-god and I seize my prey like a ravening beast. I am the great Fish. I am the Lord to whom bowings and prostrations are made in Kom Ombo.
Reader:His words reverberate in your ears. The sun has set fully while he spoke. With a leathery susurration, he slips into the darkness. You sense him upon his throne, but still and silent like a predator below the water.
You bow and walk out of the inner sanctum, the slap of your sandals on the stone the only sound. Petsuchos is asleep in his pool. Moonlight glints off his jewels.
As you leave the temple, you look back. The red-orange pillars are now illuminated by torches. The smooth cabochons set into the walls reflect the firelight like a million stars had been sprinkled across the facade.
You turn your steps down the mountain path. It is easier going down. The path is clear. There is no fear in your heart. The water you drank from the stream at Sobek’s feet fills you with his power and protects you. The rocky mountain side becomes green. In the darkness you wander past palm trees, and through waist high barley and wheat. The full ears of grain brush your kilt and your bare midriff. The river you passed earlier is quiet but for the sounds of night insects and the exhalation of hippos.
The fertile fields give way to the desert. You stand on the cooling sand under the arching milky way, the body of Nut stretched across the heavens. You inhale to savour the moment, drinking in the blessing of Sobek and the beauty of Nut.
Close your inner eyes.
Wiggle your toes
Wiggle your fingers
Feel your body in the safety of your room
And when you are ready, open your eyes.
Reader:Hail to you, O Lord of Waters, Life and Praise to you, Lord Sobek!
Benevolent and punitive one, protector of the justified and repairer of evil. Healer, he who made the herbage green. Hunter – he who with swift violence destroys the wicked utterly. I prostrate myself at your shrine. You who are strong of body, fierce and noble. We approach you with humility and honest hearts, that we might immerse ourselves in your purifying waters and submit to your mercy.
As previously mentioned, my Godson wrote a mediation for Lethe back in April. I wept when he shared it with me. Not only did he capture a great deal of emotion, but his writing was really good.
I didn’t think we’d make this work at first. I had been part of meditations for Mnemosyne that mentioned Lethe, but I had never done anything specific with Lethe. I never even thought of Lethe as HER. To me, Lethe was a river in the Underworld.
I love when some research, some literature, and some modern interpretations can change my mind!
Tyler found a song by Dark Tranquility called Lethe. I tried to track down every reference in ancient plays to Lethe. I wanted to see how the ancients felt about her. I spent time chasing down Plato’s The Republic, Milton’s Paradise Lost, Virgil’s Aeneid, Aristophanes’ The Frogs, and my well loved copies of Ovid’s Metamorphoses and Robert Morse’s The Two Persephones. In the end I got the exact same references (with scholarly back up) from Greek Religion (Burkert) and Bullfinch’s Mythology.
My first coven as an adult was called Mnemosyne’s Well. We were much like those who followed the Orphic cult of old – we wanted to ignore the Lethe, and drink instead from the Well of Mnemosyne (Memory). Initiates in the Orphic Religion believed they should drink from Mnemosyne to remember everything from their lives in order to obtain omniscience (the capacity to know everything). As a Pagan who believes in reincarnation and has done a few forms of past live regression (in a coven structure as well as with a non-Pagan hypnotist) I want to be able to explore karma and learn from past mistakes to make this life, and all others to come, good ones for my soul and those around me.
Orphism wasn’t the only game in town. Many writers reference the need to drink the waters of Lethe when they arrive in the underworld in order to have their past memories erased so they can be reincarnated.
I’ll go with Orphic Mysticism every time.
But that wasn’t what my Godson was feeling. That wasn’t how Lethe came to him. Not the message he felt from her. We both went through some bad break ups in 2019. The message he felt from Lethe was to forget the pain, but not the good times or the lessons learned from the pain.
Bloody 16 year old philosopher over here.
Lethe’s name means Oblivion. That is also not the message he was feeling from her. Total forgetfulness doesn’t have to happen. What if, instead of an absolute, we get to choose how much we forget? Now, don’t go getting your chiton in a twist. We’re modern Pagans exploring ancient deities and forging our own spiritual path, not recreating exactly what and how the ancients believed. There are elders in my community who won’t agree with my approach. This Gen X witch mentally pats these Boomers on their heads and goes forth to do her own thing. Just like all the Pagans, Wiccans, and witches before her.
Because I’ve posted our circle casting and closing in other posts, I’m just presenting the actual ritual below.
Reader: In the House of Hades there is a spring to the right, by it stands a white cypress; here the souls, descending, are cooled. As we journey there, we aim to forget some pain, some injury or insult. We must drink a small amount so as not to forget all the joys, or the lessons. Here we drink to forget, but not to forgive. Let us not drown ourselves, but savor the bitter water as if it were a dark wine.
Reader: Slide down into the darkness of the underworld. Blackness envelops us. We walk forward and down. A glimmering opening is before us. We see a path illuminated by a gloaming of twilight. The ground beneath our feet is well trodden, dirt packed down by millions of feet over thousands of years. The rocks are smooth, worn down by the tread of souls. Let us stand beside the cypress, its moon-pale leaves shivering silently above us. And our journey begins…
Reader: Deep in the hollow of a mountainside lies a cavern. It is the home of lazy Hypnos, God of Sleep, where the sun’s beams never can reach at morn or noon or eve. Always there are cloudy vapors that rise in doubtful twilight. Here silence dwells. Before the cavern’s mouth lush poppies grow, and countless herbs from whose essences a drowsy infusion is distilled. Goddess Nyx sprinkles this drowsy draught across the darkening world as she brings night and sleep. Here the lazy stream of forgetfulness, of Goddess Lethe, flows beneath the rock, and over pebbled shallows, trickling a whispered lullaby.
Reader: Clouds and shadows are exhaled from the ground, and light glimmers faintly. No morning bird songs or break of dawn; never a dogs barking ruptures the silence. No wild beast nor branch moves with the wind. No sound of human conversation breaks the stillness. Silence reigns here.
Reader: The River Lethe flows, and by her murmur, invites sleep. Clear and silvery in the misty light, shadows of slow fish swim slowly in her hypnotic current. In the canopy of grey-green leaves a pale, dull light envelops all – as if the black night leeched the colour from the world leaving a pallor upon this placid place.
Reader: The hushed place is pale and dull. Where the bright red of a poppy would be is a muted and bloodless shade that suggests of colour. Where the bold purple of a crocus should be, with pollen covered stamens of orange-yellow, are the drained petals and bleak dust of forgotten springs.
Reader: Silence is oppressive. Your ears strain to hear something, anything. No wind stirs your hair. No snap of the twigs beneath your feet. No rustling in the underbrush by mouse or snake. No birdsong from the branches above.
Reader : Follow the river down. The caves are moist and cool, blackness surrounds us. But the twilight coloured river guides our way.Within the abyss of the Underworld,the river Lethe, measureless in sweep, glides smoothly on with placid stream, and takes away our cares. She calls to the shades of the dead, with her voice that touches the mind but not the ear.
Hear now, the words of the forgotten. Whose waters cast your feelings into Oblivion as you leave this mortal plane.
Ps of Lethe: Drink from my river.
Drink for comfort, for clarity, and to move on.
Drink until your heart deems necessary.
Drink to forget, but never unlearn.
Drink to live on, but never truly forgive.
Those who drink from my waters may soon forget me. However I will be there to
guide you.
All come to me when they seek the path to forget about those who wronged them.
Only those who have truly learned from this experience may cast their memories into oblivion. But never what they have learned.
Float in my river.
Float until you reach the end of this mortal plane.
Only then may you leave my waters
Listen to the moans of those whose sorrows have been cast away.
Feel their tears.
The tears of the forgotten ebb and flow throughout my river.
Their cries of sorrow envelop you and beg you to come further. However empathy must no longer exist for them. The forgotten must be cast to Oblivion.
The memory of those feelings shall be forgotten.
Once you are at the end, you may exit my river.
Drink from my waters once more.
Once you do you may forget me, but I will remember the one who bathed in my waters and learned.
Learned to move on.
Learned to forget.
Reader: *Give me the drink of the fluid that disintegrates
And lend me the sweet balm and blessing of forgetfulness, empty and strong
Hold me near, unravel the stars
As I wander through the night
Reader: In currents of cobalt you soothe my heart
To wash away the memories that burn
Sweep through the arteries to wash away the pain
Your blessed oblivion to heal me again
Reader: Bathe me, console me, and inspire me
For I long to heal and find joy again
Flood me gently with your emptiness
I appear, renewed and reforged
Caressed by the sweet balm and blessing of forgetfulness, empty and strong
Reader: Lethe, hold me near, my friend and guide
Drops of your river sit on my lip
The bittersweet flavour of your waters I have tasted
A momentary taste of oblivion
Granting me the peace of a memory without pain.
Pause
Reader: Beside the white cypress we stand. The Goddess melds into her waters, flowing on, away, and beyond. We feel the gift she left us in our hearts. Turn our steps away, towards the darkness that will lead us into light. The well-worn path of ages leads us back to life and one another. We leave behind pain, we come back to one another, eyes and hearts open. Ready to live with less burden on our conscience.
Ready to live with more joy.
Rite of Lethe written by Kara Renee and Tyler Logan April-June 2020 www.theoi.com ,Seneca, Hercules Furens 679 ff (trans. Miller) (Roman tragedy C1st A.D.), Ovid, Metamorphoses, *‘Lethe’ by Dark Tranquility written by Anders Jivarp / Fredrik Johansson / Martin Henriksson / Mikael Bengt Stanne / Niklas Bo Sundin (edited by KRN), Greek Religion by Walter Burkert, Bullfinch’s Mythology
Goddess tile from a King Richard’s Faire a long time ago. Fabrics all from either my belly dance veils or my altar decor bins. Crystals – quartz, chrysoprase, sodalite, and 2 bits of angelite. Black marble box holds salt.
My favourite local orchard has set up an appointment system for fruit picking this summer. As of 10 July I have been four times. I have picked 4 quarts each of strawberries, sweet cherries, blueberries and tart cherries. I’ve made jams, frozen berries, and am preparing to can pie filling.
I recently started dating a really amazing man who isn’t Pagan. I’m struggling to explain to him why I’m getting up at 5:30 to get my house in order, start my work day, to get to an 8 am berry picking appointment when I could just go to the store and buy fruit.
While pitting tart cherries today for pie filling, I think I figured it out.
Part of it starts with the desire to have some skills and level of self sufficiency. Look back to January at the Rite of Skadi and the lessons we learned from her about self-reliance, self-sufficiency, being whole unto oneself. My Italian great-grandmother (Nona) had a huge garden and a massive cherry tree. She grew veggies, picked her cherries, made pasta from scratch, and her own (I’ve heard questionable used) wine. Once upon a time she kept chickens. And we all have memories of her ‘pet’ rabbits that would disappear every autumn when cousin Mario came by.
My parents would grow peas, asparagus, sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, lettuce, beans, strawberries, raspberries and blueberries. We had cherry and peach trees, but never really got much fruit from them. Dad stewed tomatoes and froze them. Mom blanched and froze peas. She made jelly and jam. She canned beans, applesauce and peaches. They froze blueberries.
This was all normal for me. My second job as a teen was on a farm.
There is nothing like a strawberry still warm from the vine. Or a blackberry that tumbles into your palm, ripe and juicy, bursting with flavour no grocery store berry ever held. To pick your own fruit at the time it’s ripe, in season, where you live, is a sacred experience.
As an adult and a Pagan, going to the orchard is a spiritual trip. It’s going to church. The orchards are fairly quiet for social distancing reasons. The farm spaces us out nicely. To walk upon the earth, still damp with morning dew. To kneel in the grass to reach low hanging fruit is like a prayer to the Earth Mother.
Tiny bugs and leaves and bits of stick get stuck in my hair. My knees are dirty and covered in grass and bark mulch. Ripe fruit comes off the vine and branch easily in my hands. My box slowly fills in an hour. Voices are distant. Birds sing nearby. An encounter with a random stranger becomes praise for the Gods of Earth as we wax rhapsodic about the plump cherries, the strawberries nearly out of season, the jams we’ve made, the plans we have for peaches and apples later in the year, how wonderful it is that it seems so many of us are getting back to ‘old ways’, and the beauty of being out among the trees on a hill in summer.
I didn’t take a selfie the day I picked these. These are much prettier than I am.
As I was pitting tart cherries this afternoon and talking via video to my beloved, he asked again why fruit he got at the store was not as good to me as the fruit I get in the field.
We hung up and I kept pitting. It takes a while to hand pit tart cherries. My mind wandered to a book my friend Vinnie told me about recently, to the Eleusinian Mysteries, to what we believe the ancient rites were about and what they revealed.
tart cherries taken while I was on the ground picking low fruit
“The seed enters the earth and makes it fruitful. The earth covers the seed and makes it fruitful.” (The Two Persephones by Robert Morse)
I looked at a cherry pit. If I held it to my beloved’s face and asked him to ponder it would he then in his mind plant it in some dirt, water it, give it sun, nurture it to a sapling. Then plant that sapling (with others of its kind) and prune them and care for them. Then one fine summer those trees would have blossoms that turn to fruit. Entire trees full of food. From a seed. And the fruit on that tree yields how many seeds from which more trees can be made? How many more generations of cherry trees could be born from that one summer of fruit?
The seed enters the earth and makes it fruitful.
The seed goes into the darkness, rises and grows, and makes fruit, inside of which are more seeds.
I could simply take it for granted. I could be dismissive of it and say “Meh, whatever, it’s nature. It’s what happens.”
Or I can see the divine in a cherry tree.
“Self portrait of a blogger in a cherry tree – 2020”
Glitter and Gods 