the raven

Five of us (Hilde, her friend Imogen, Greg, Becky and myself) arrived together at Box Hill to meet with the others (Donna, Heather and Andrew). Our Beltane ceremony was to be held deep in the woods wither we were conducted by Andrew, our celebrant for the day, aka Lord of the Forest. We had to carry a lot – a fire bowl, firewood, garlands, not forgetting my new cloak, getting its first outing with the Tamesis Seedgroup. A mule would have been useful.

The weather was perfect: sun that was warm but not too hot and very little wind. There were flowers all along the paths, wild strawberries, woodruff and yellow archangel (like a yellow white dead nettle) and we passed old yew trees and a horse chestnut with only one candle so deeply enmeshed was it by other trees.

Andrew led us to a place he had chosen close to a fallen beech tree, with a holly bush growing nearby, and slender beech trees making the perfect grove. The ceremony began and the circle was cast. Becky took the part of May Queen welcoming the advent of summer as the Lord of the Greenwood threw off his cloak and we were all given a sprig of hawthorn before the central fire was lit. One by one we cast into the fire what we wanted to leave behind and, or, what we wanted to come to fruition in our lives. And then, for a long time, we talked about the paths we were taking through life, feeding the fire and draining mead to the dregs. We sang as well and shared Druidic thoughts in prose and poetry. The young beech tree leaves above us were luminous with new life and I wished the charmed moment would never end. Miraculously, despite the lovely weather and the proximity of two paths we saw no-one while we were there.

But the apparent world must reassert itself. We cannot live in faery for long, nor should we try to. Such moments come unasked for and must be let go of as lightly. As he uncast the circle Andrew said “The circle is open but never broken.” Something to remember in miserable moments.

Then back to Andrew’s house for tea and cake and Cornish pasties made by Greg’s mum (blessings be upon her name) where some of us remained until the moon was high in the sky.

Thank you Andrew for creating the space in which each of us could work whatever magic we desired for the good of all living beings. And to those who weren’t there: we missed you.