By Jehra from Pagan Heart
Some of the rituals I have attended have been great-orchestrated moments, where a television crew or a film camera would have recorded something worthy of an audience.
Mountains wreathed in mist, a glowing moon; many, many people. A multitude of bass, tenor and mezzo tones, coupled with the high sopranos of trained voices streaming in the wind and across valleys to bounce against mountain walls and back to the crowning circle. A never ending circle of sounds that bring a lump to the throat, tears to the eyes and a sense of ‘being there’.
Some rites have been simple and honest tokens of worship from a few stalwart souls on a cold night in the middle of winter. Faith overcoming chill winds and frosted toes, to sit on damp stones with a heart full of peace and eyes filled with crisp frosted trees, and crystal white clouds scurrying across a wind filled sky. Snuggled into a hurriedly sanctified winter coat and a shawl dragged over freezing ears and eyes smarting with the wind.
Some rites have been in a peaceful valley, beneath a tree on a lazy hot afternoon. With one eye on the leaf strewn path in the hopes no one would disturb me. A lazy humming bee gently zizzing his message across the glade as water gurgled by my feet. Alone and at peace as my deity sparkled in my mind in wonder of the joyful day.
Some rites have been in the chill of the night, wet and miserable weather cascading onto my suffering head, tears streaming from my eyes as I say goodbye in this life to a loved one, alone and miserable and all too human. Screaming "Why?" at an empty sky with no moon or stars to comfort me, just clouds and more clouds and I have wept.
My only comfort my deity watching, loving, caring that I hurt because I am human.
All the rites I have attended, been part of, have filled me with wonder and love. I have sat in many temples and churches, for many religions; not once have I failed to feel the presence of my deity.
Yet I have also been where the truth was not sought. Where self-grandeur and a ‘starring role’ were more important to the human beings attending. I have felt the emptiness of the rite, as the deity is not contacted, just empty minded people with empty minded devotions that are a lie and a cheat to themselves.
Some of us will be able to share, some may choose to be private and alone, and some have yet to experience part or maybe even all of the above situations.
In sharing this series of memories, I hope it will bring others here to share or to comment and for those yet to take part in a structured ritual or to be part of a group; an insight to some of what can be experienced along our journey.
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