As we proceed to the next of the festivals - Yule - it should not be surprising
to find that following the moment of conception we should seek to understand the
moment of birth. The conception, the moment of creation deep within the
mystery, took place at Samh-ain. The seed planted at this time gestates in the
womb of the Goddess until the child of the gods - in essence, the whole of
creation - emerges from the womb of the Great Mother. This is celebrated at
Yule, which is symbolized by the birth of the Sun. In pre-Christian times, this
time was called "Giuli," and followed "Modra Necht" - the Night of the Mothers.
Yule is celebrated at the time of the Midwinter Solstice. This is the time of
the longest night, and of the shortest day. The Sun is seen to be symbolically
born anew, as the Great Mother gives birth at the time of the darkest night.
The Sun is a vitally important symbol to us, for it has been long known that all
life on Earth is dependent upon the Sun. The Wheel of the Year itself is based
upon the solar cycle, and the Sun is seen as symbolic of the life force which we
worship as the God and the Goddess. The Sun is the dominant force in all our
lives. Without its light and heat, life as we understand it is impossible. The
passage of the Sun through the heavens regulates the passage of the seasons we
experience upon the Earth, and is therefore the foundation of the Wiccan Wheel
of the Year.
At the Midwinter Solstice we celebrate the rebirth of the Sun. Many Wiccan
covens follow the old pagan tradition of enacting this as the Goddess giving
birth to the Child of Promise. It was at the Midwinter Solstice in the Northern
Hemisphere that the birth of Mithras was celebrated. For the same reason it was
decided in 273 A.D. to appoint this date to celebrate the birth of Christ; the
"son" of God.
In the world of nature, Yule signifies the moment of the rebirth of the Sun. In
our own lives we can take it to represent the moment of physical birth. Thus in
our ritual cycle, we enact the rebirth of the Sun by the lighting of candles,
and especially the lighting of a flame within the cauldron to represent the
emergence of new life from the darkness of the womb of the Goddess. We ritually
invoke the Great Mother and All-Father, and we symbolically enact the Goddess
giving birth to the new year. In human terms the child represents all the
potential for life, as yet unaware that all the mysteries of the universe lies
hidden deep within. Like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, the child is born
in innocence, created in the image of the gods.
We have taken the second step upon our journey. From now on the days continue
to lengthen as the Sun climbs toward its height at the Summer Solstice. In
response to the greater heat of the Sun, the land begins to awaken as we start
the journey from winter towards spring. The next festival is Candlemas. As we
might guess from the name (given to it by the Christians), it is a festival of
lights which celebrates the growth of the Sun. By Candlemas, the days are
appreciably longer. Our understanding of this festival has been guided by
ancient pagan tradition and our own inspiration. We see this as a time of
purification and most especially a time of initiation into the female myster-
ies. At Candlemas we observe in nature the awakening potential for the fullness
of summer. In human terms we represent this by the first female menstruation.
This is the virgin aspect of the Goddess, marking the awakening of her potential
to become the mother.
We celebrate this ritual by arming the young virgin with the powers of the
elements. We celebrate her initiation into the mysteries of her sex. To
reflect this essential female mystery, we enact the young girl being instructed
by her mother and grandmother into the mysteries of being a woman. Thus we
reveal that the mystery of the virgin is also found within the mother crone as
well.
It is at Candlemas in many parts of Britain that the women of the house dress a
sheaf of oats in woman's clothing, and lay it in a basket called "Brighid's
bed." They also place a small phallic club in the bed and then call out three
times, "Brighid is come, Brighid is welcome!", and leave candles burning all
night beside the bed. Behind all this we catch glimpses of deeper mysteries
that can only be grasped by passing beyond a mere intellectual appreciation of
the symbolism.
To continue our journey we now come to the Spring Equinox. It might seem that
celebrating Candlemas as a female mystery is rather unbalanced in a religion
which is based upon polarity of male and female; but no; for reasons of
tradition, and because woman reach puberty before men, it is not until the
Spring Equinox that the initiatory male rite is enacted. In this we arm the
young god with the knowledge of his own creative power; he is initiated into the
mysteries of sex, just as the young girl was armed with the powers of her
potential. This ritual expresses the mystery that he contains within his young
life; the potential to become a father and wise old man.
This continues to reflect the turning tide of the seasons. We are now in the
spring. New life is awakening on all sides. The sap is rising in the trees,
and both the young man and young girl have awakened to the mysteries of their
sexuality. The Spring Equinox is a vital moment in the passage of the solar
cycle. Day and night now stand equal, and from this point onwards the light
will dominate the darkness. The long dark nights of winter have at last been
overthrown.
Between the Spring Equinox and Beltane the young man and woman pursue one
another, each becoming more aware of the other sex. Thus the man understands
that there is more to the mystery of life than pure masculinity, and the woman
sees that there is more to life than her femininity. Having found this vision,
they express it in their desire to be joined as one.
We arrive now at Beltane. This is the time of the sacred marriage when the young
man and woman are joined together as husband and wife. With their wish to be
married, they have glimpsed that the mysteries of love may lead to a deeper
union still - in essence, to a union with the gods. By going beyond their sense
of individual self to embrace one another, they have taken a profound step
toward the God and Goddess. They have discovered that deep within themselves
they are both male and female, and the experience of this brings a new sense of
joy and wholeness.
Beltane is a time of joy and celebration; the dark of winter is forgotten, and
summer is coming. It is a time of fertility and fire. We dance the ancient
mystery of the Maypole, celebrating our understanding our understanding of the
mystery of the love of a man for a woman. The pole is crowned with a garland of
flowers to symbolize their joining; the ribbons are red and white, reminding us
of blood and sperm. The dance is the sexual fire, as we dance about the pole
winding the ribbons in the pattern of the spiral, which reveals the mystery of
the serpent; that ancient awakener who slumbers until warmed by the rising Sun.
This is the time of the sacred marriage. It is a moment when human
consciousness has grasped the powers of nature, joined with those powers and
shared in the mystery of life. The land and our lives are married as one. For
those that are able to see it, there is a vision of the creation of all life by
the God and the Goddess. For the mystery is now revealed for all to see - the
woman conceives of her husband. She is pregnant and will bear a child.
Through their union they discover their deeper selves, which we symbolize as the
King and Queen of the land. The man and woman now take up their new roles, and
rule the kingdom of their new found lives. At Candlemas and the Spring Equinox
a man and a woman were instructed in the powers of nature. Now at Beltane that
knowledge is transformed into understanding. For in joining together they have
understood that their lives and the land are one.
The land continues to bring forth life in an ever greater profusion. The woman
who is now the Queen begins to show the first signs of the Beltane seed planted
in her womb by her husband, the King. She is pregnant; the mirror image of the
maturing crops.
Now we come to Midsummer, the height of the solar Wheel. This is the time of
the longest day and shortest night, and a time of maturity, both in the
agricultural cycle and the lives of the man and woman. They rule now as King
and Queen; just as the Sun is at its height, so too they are at the height of
their creative powers. The woman's mature power is reflected in her approaching
mother-hood. The man's power is reflected in his kingship, and in his mastery
of nature and rule of the kingdom. Together the King and Queen preside over the
kingdom of their lives, celebrating the vision of creative light.
But the light does not continue to rise. The vision of light must once more
give way to a growing darkness. As things grow, so too they must wither and
die. From Midsummer, the Sun must fall, until reborn once more at the Winter
Solstice. Thus Midsummer is a celebration of the King and Queen's power, but
must also reflect the returning current of darkness. We symbolize this by the
appearance of a challenger who confronts the couple. Until now the King and
Queen have ruled supreme; they have imposed their will upon the kingdom without
challenge, but now a single dark figure must appear. This is the beginning of
the ancient pagan theme of the battle between the brothers; the light and dark
kings now begin their conflict.
The challenger seeks to abduct the Queen; the child she bears represents the
kingdom. The King must now defend the land. They fight, light against dark,
but as yet the sun is still supreme, and the King drives the challenger back.
But, the challenger is armed with the power of fate; we know that the Sun must
fall. With a single stroke the challen-ger wounds the King, laying open his
thigh; but still the light is the greater power, and the King defeats the
challenger. The light still rules supreme, but a shadow has fallen over the
kingdom.
Thus Midsummer comes to a close. The King and Queen remain at the height of
their power, yet a new force - darkness - is awakening in the world. As the
seasons contin-ue to turn, the gods begin to reveal a further mystery: not only
are they light, they are also dark as well. Thus the King and Queen have
awakened to a deeper mystery; they have seen that not only are they male and
female, but they are also light and dark as well.
As we look at the natural world, we see that the Sun is now waning. The days
grow shorter, and we sense profound changes in the world around us. After
Midsummer, the next festival we come to is Lammas. The crops have matured, and
in the way of nature, aged and turned to seed. The days are still longer than
the nights; the light still rules in the land, but the powers of darkness are
now visibly growing. Summer is coming to an end and we are approaching autumn.
To symbolize the theme of the waning light and growing power of darkness, we
celebrate Lammas as a Harvest Festival. In cutting the corn (wheat), we
celebrate the end of the vision of light. We cut the corn with joy; as we have
sown, so now we reap, but in cutting the corn we signal the end of the cycle of
growth.
As we gather in the harvest we watch as the power of the Sun wanes. The cutting
of the corn is an ancient symbol of death and transformation, and reflects the
seasonal changes at work in the land around us. As we look to the King and
Queen, who were married to the land at Beltane, we see in their lives a
reflection of these themes. Just as the harvest is reaped, so the Queen now
births her child.
The mystery of Lammas is that by fulfilling the vision of light in bringing to
fruition the seed sown in the spring, we must face the vision of death. For the
King bears the wound he received at Midsummer, it is a wasting wound and will
not heal. He slowly weakens, his creative power spent. He is still King, but
his powers are waning, a reflection of the falling light. But Lammas is also a
time of hope, for in the cutting of the corn the seed is gathered in, which is
the hope for life to come. As the King looks to his first born son he looks to
the heir of the kingdom. We celebrate Lammas as a time of fulfillment; it is a
time of joy, when we reap all we have sown.
Both King and Queen have been transformed. The King had to accept the glimpse
of the vision of death in his killing of the challenger and taking of a mortal
wound; so now the Queen dies to herself, for in giving birth she has given the
child a part of her life, passing her power to her son. As the Wheel of the
Seasons turns, it reveals that the gods embrace both life and death. Just as the
man and woman were born, so too they must die. Lammas brings the vision of
mortality, but reveals the hope of the immortal spirit hidden in the new cut
grain, made manifest in the new born child, who symbolizes the awakening
darkness; he is the power of the waning Sun. He emerges from the womb as the
growing darkness appears in the natural world.
We must now move on. Time will stand still for no-one. The wheel must turn,
and we must turn with it. This is our fate, as our lives reflect the turning
cycle of the seasons. We must now make our way to the Autumn Equinox, where
once again the powers of light and darkness stand as equals - but now
it is the darkness that is in the ascendant.
It is the nature of human beings to resist the darkness. Humanity fears death
above all things. It is the root of all our fears; death is the final
initiation. Only through an acceptance and understanding of death can we hope
to understand the goods. Only in accepting death can we truly accept life. Life
and death are two sides of the same coin; we cannot have one without the
other.By the time we reach the Autumn Equinox, it becomes harder to describe the
mysteries that we celebrate. The mystery that can be taught or explained is
not, after all, a myst-ery. At the Autumn Equinox we must face life's greatest
mystery: death. This is the hardest trial of all. In the ancient mystery
schools, and in shamanic practices, the most important of initiations was - and
is - the near death experience.
The child born at Lammas is now a young man. He is the reflection of the
growing powers of darkness. The old King of Light bears his mortal wound and is
now advancing in years, his powers waning as the days grow shorter, and the Sun
falls lower and lower in the sky. The Queen also is no longer young; the flower
of her youth is past. The King and Queen are aging with the land, for they and
the land are one.
But as is natural in human affairs we none of us want to admit the darkness. We
fight against the coming of the night. So the King and Queen each in their own
way try to hold onto the kingdom they have been at such pains to build. The
King's powers are waning; his son is in the first flush of youth and vigor, and
has been initiated into the mysteries of his power. The King grows weak, and
must rely upon his son to defend the kingdom. But, the King now fears his son
as a potential challenge to the throne. The Queen likewise does not want to
relinquish her power. She sees that her husband grows weak and infirm, and is
no match for a challenger. To maintain her position in the kingdom she relies
on the power of her son.
Finally, in the dead of the night, the old pagan tale replays itself. The battle
begun at the Midsummer Solstice between the light and darkness must now be
resumed; the King and his son fight as the Equinox comes upon us. Sword against
spear the battle rages; the experience of the King against the naked strength of
his son's youth. The Queen watches as they fight, torn by hope and fear. But
as they fight, there is a great mystery at work. Both the King and Queen now
face their fear of death, and as they look death in the eye there is a moment of
understanding. The King, the Queen, and the land are one. Thus they are both
the light and darkness. In the moment of vision the King looks upon his son,
and at last realizes that he is only fighting himself, for all things are one.
The King and his son understand the mystery, and they join in love as one. They
give up the conflict of light and dark to pass beyond this world, and they
become the Lord of the Otherworld. The Queen too has seen both life and death,
and knows that they are one. With this realization she becomes the crone, and
understands the ancient myst-ery. The Equinox marks her last menstrual cycle;
she can no longer bear children.
So now we must take our last step upon the Wheel; we come at last to Samhain,
from where it all began. As we saw at the beginning this is the Wiccan New
Year. The Queen has become the crone - the hag, the Witch. She lives alone, for
the King is now dead. The Sun is waning toward the Solstice; winter is upon us,
and the night is now longer than the day.
If we look to the land, the cycle of growth has come to an end. The kingdom of
the old year has symbolically passed away, transformed by the turning of the
seasons. The Queen is now a Witch; the ancient hag crone who knows the
mysteries of life and death. In making her journey she has discovered the
ancient power which lies behind the Wheel of the Year. She has seen the spring,
the summer, autumn and winter, and she knows that an ancient mystery lies hidden
within it all.
Standing alone, for she is feared by those who have yet to walk the Wheel, she
kindles the ancient Samhain fire. As she raises her arms in invocation to the
Lord of the Otherworld, a great storm gathers. The veil is opened between the
worlds. The storm breaks, and the Wild Hunt is upon us as the spirits of the
dead are led from the Other-world by the ancient Horned God; the Ancient Lord of
the Samhain fire. To complete the final turn of the Wheel, the Crone must now
join with his mystery, and go with him back into the Otherworld. She and the
Horned Lord travel together back into the depths of the mystery. There they
join in love as one; the supreme moment of the true Great Rite in which all the
mysteries of the male and female, all the mysteries of the light and dark are
married together as one as the seed is planted deep within the womb of the Great
Mother.
For now in the natural cycle the seeds of nature fall to the ground, the seed of
life to come. The seed harvested at Lammas is now planted in the earth,
fulfilling the mystery of the return. For a while the land sleeps, and lies
fallow. The darkness seems to complete, but of course we know that we will
eventually return to the Winter Solstice, and the cycle will continue.
Let us now approach the Wiccan Wheel of the Year as it is meant to be: as a
mystery. Forget the intellect, and allow your intuition and emotions to be your
guide. What follows is a guided visualization, which you can read onto a tape,
or have one person read aloud, as you follow the journey it describes. Allow
the images to form naturally in your imagination, and you will find yourself
making a magical journey through the mysteries of the gods.
For those who are not used to following a guided visualization, there are a few
simple rules to observe. Before starting any meditation work (which includes
the kind of altered state that guided visualization encourages), seat yourself
comfortably in a quiet room, free from distractions. Take the phone off the
hook, and tell anyone who lives with you not to disturb you. You can of course
do this out of doors, but if you do, make sure you are well off the beaten
track, with no danger of bush walkers stumbling over you, or any other kinds of
disturbance. Have a pen and pad handy, and if it helps you to relax and focus,
use some incense.
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