Imaginings
I have been having fantasies lately of some future time when I will have the ritual space I crave, and how the Craft will fit into my life. If I can make any of these elements happen, I will be thrilled.
I imagine my ritual room. I imagine slowly, over a period of years, collecting the things that would make it perfect. Everything in the room would be there for a reason, and have its place. It would be a room that would feel good to be in, suitable for quiet reflection, or laughing conversation, as the mood struck. It would be a room that is enjoyable to be in.
The East wall (of *course* it would be oriented to the cardinal points) would contain a bookshelf or bookshelves, with my herbal and magickal library. There would be a window, to let in the breeze. Incense would waft gently from censers. A tasteful pentacle or two would hang on the wall. My tarot cards would occupy a prominent place.
The North wall: a cascade of plants spill out from pots on the floor or shelves. There are rocks, too -- interesting ones that feel right. A natural wood bookshelf contains jars with my collection of herbs, and others are strung from the ceiling, drying. My staff leans in the corner.
In a world nearly too perfect to be imagined, there is a fireplace or woodstove on the South wall. Perhaps this is the only source of heat for the room. Above it are hung knives -- 2 or 3, that have meaning to me. There are candles and interesting candle holders. In the absense of perfection, wall sconces fitted with thick candles take the place of the fireplace.
The West wall has a small fountain, or perhaps an aquarium, and the gentle sounds of falling water are subtly in the background at all times. There are shelves with chalices and cups of various types.
Other items in the room:
A comfortable chair or two,
A smallish desk, or perhaps even a scribe's table that fits over my lap, or a low table for working from the floor,
Pillows, blankets, area rugs, cloaks, to make the floor a comfortable place -- some of them stowed in a closet
My altar, able to be moved around the room
Things that are *not* in the room: anything electronic, with the exception of lighting, the fountain/aquarium and perhaps a laptop brought in for study or record keeping, and removed when not in use.
This room would be close enough to my bedroom to be visited every day, at least once. In a distant future when the children can get themselves ready for school, I go there upon waking to check the plants, the drying herbs, to feed the fish and to do a short yoga practice.
There is a door that can be closed during rituals, but otherwise the room is open. My family feels comfortable to use the room too -- they come to find me to talk to me, and they come to read or sit just on their own. I welcome them to use it, and the spirits of my friends and family mingle with mine there. There are quiet evenings of reading or weaving alone and laughing times with friends and family in this room.
On esbat or sabbat nights, after dinner and chores are done and the children are in bed, I retire for a bath and to my room for ritual the rituals.
But while I am in the realm of fantasy perhaps I will go farther. Perhaps some members of my family are interested in participating in the rituals. They gather in my ritual room to take part. Perhaps some of our friends are also interested -- my husband knows that there will be others in the house on ritual nights and makes extra food for dinner. Friends bring friends, and a commnity begins to be established.
The rituals are not mine -- it is my space, and I act as facilitator, but others bring their own work, and their own words. We sit in my ritual room and plan the work for the evening before we begin. People bring their own cups and their own athames. We do spells for each other and for the common good. People write sacred poetry to be shared with the group, or enact plays. It is joyful, and seasonal, and communal. After the rituals, we share food and drink and laughter. Perhaps we even make these evenings child-friendly, doing simple, safe work and teaching interested young people about the Craft.
After the larger, more public rite I do a little circle for myself or perhaps for those very close to me. Or sometimes just for myself, but other times for some private bit of magick that someone wants me to help with.
I put forward a request, though by no means a demand, that those who come to the circle bring something to enrich it. Maybe this is poetry, or flowers for the May Eve alter, food or drink for afterward, incense, or a herb to add to my stores. There are a few of us who take the study of herbs somewhat seriously, and others come to us for suggestions and concoctions. Perhaps someone in the community will have sufficient interest and talent to begin a herb garden on our land. It then becomes a sort of outdoor ritual space for nights with good weather.
What a lovely imagining. My faith is a great source of joy to me right here and right now, even without all of the above. But I suppose it doesn't hurt to dream.
I imagine my ritual room. I imagine slowly, over a period of years, collecting the things that would make it perfect. Everything in the room would be there for a reason, and have its place. It would be a room that would feel good to be in, suitable for quiet reflection, or laughing conversation, as the mood struck. It would be a room that is enjoyable to be in.
The East wall (of *course* it would be oriented to the cardinal points) would contain a bookshelf or bookshelves, with my herbal and magickal library. There would be a window, to let in the breeze. Incense would waft gently from censers. A tasteful pentacle or two would hang on the wall. My tarot cards would occupy a prominent place.
The North wall: a cascade of plants spill out from pots on the floor or shelves. There are rocks, too -- interesting ones that feel right. A natural wood bookshelf contains jars with my collection of herbs, and others are strung from the ceiling, drying. My staff leans in the corner.
In a world nearly too perfect to be imagined, there is a fireplace or woodstove on the South wall. Perhaps this is the only source of heat for the room. Above it are hung knives -- 2 or 3, that have meaning to me. There are candles and interesting candle holders. In the absense of perfection, wall sconces fitted with thick candles take the place of the fireplace.
The West wall has a small fountain, or perhaps an aquarium, and the gentle sounds of falling water are subtly in the background at all times. There are shelves with chalices and cups of various types.
Other items in the room:
A comfortable chair or two,
A smallish desk, or perhaps even a scribe's table that fits over my lap, or a low table for working from the floor,
Pillows, blankets, area rugs, cloaks, to make the floor a comfortable place -- some of them stowed in a closet
My altar, able to be moved around the room
Things that are *not* in the room: anything electronic, with the exception of lighting, the fountain/aquarium and perhaps a laptop brought in for study or record keeping, and removed when not in use.
This room would be close enough to my bedroom to be visited every day, at least once. In a distant future when the children can get themselves ready for school, I go there upon waking to check the plants, the drying herbs, to feed the fish and to do a short yoga practice.
There is a door that can be closed during rituals, but otherwise the room is open. My family feels comfortable to use the room too -- they come to find me to talk to me, and they come to read or sit just on their own. I welcome them to use it, and the spirits of my friends and family mingle with mine there. There are quiet evenings of reading or weaving alone and laughing times with friends and family in this room.
On esbat or sabbat nights, after dinner and chores are done and the children are in bed, I retire for a bath and to my room for ritual the rituals.
But while I am in the realm of fantasy perhaps I will go farther. Perhaps some members of my family are interested in participating in the rituals. They gather in my ritual room to take part. Perhaps some of our friends are also interested -- my husband knows that there will be others in the house on ritual nights and makes extra food for dinner. Friends bring friends, and a commnity begins to be established.
The rituals are not mine -- it is my space, and I act as facilitator, but others bring their own work, and their own words. We sit in my ritual room and plan the work for the evening before we begin. People bring their own cups and their own athames. We do spells for each other and for the common good. People write sacred poetry to be shared with the group, or enact plays. It is joyful, and seasonal, and communal. After the rituals, we share food and drink and laughter. Perhaps we even make these evenings child-friendly, doing simple, safe work and teaching interested young people about the Craft.
After the larger, more public rite I do a little circle for myself or perhaps for those very close to me. Or sometimes just for myself, but other times for some private bit of magick that someone wants me to help with.
I put forward a request, though by no means a demand, that those who come to the circle bring something to enrich it. Maybe this is poetry, or flowers for the May Eve alter, food or drink for afterward, incense, or a herb to add to my stores. There are a few of us who take the study of herbs somewhat seriously, and others come to us for suggestions and concoctions. Perhaps someone in the community will have sufficient interest and talent to begin a herb garden on our land. It then becomes a sort of outdoor ritual space for nights with good weather.
What a lovely imagining. My faith is a great source of joy to me right here and right now, even without all of the above. But I suppose it doesn't hurt to dream.
posted by --- at 5:11 PM
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