Tonight I took the Wild Irish Woman and two non-witches that have an interest in witchcraft into the forest. We went to the Ash Mound where many a ritual has been held. We lay down the compass and strongly called the spirits to us. We anointed ourselves with the spirit of Mandrake and then set to work on the main ritual.
While the Wild Irish Woman played a sweet song, I began to craft the Sacrificial King. His body was that of a potato, and twigs were his limbs. I cut out a space for his heart. His head was an apple slice, and he had corn wisps for hair. I gave him a huge phallus, the base of the ear of corn. I gave him Ale for blood, a spark from the fire for his spirit, and my own breath to Liven Him. He presided over our festivities at the base of the stang.
We sang, and danced, and traversed deeper In Between. We chanted to bring ourselves down deep. Spirits moved with us, and jumped through our ritual space. Our feet pounded upon the soft earth, and we all got a little dirty. There was much toasting and drinking. Trance overtook us all. We were in a lovely balance with the world.
The Wild Irish Woman led us in a beautiful, on the fly meditation after we chanted about ourselves being of Nature, even if we do not appear physically to be so.
Earth my body, water my blood.
Air my breath and fire my spirit.
We are a circle, a mighty circle.
We have our brothers, we have our sisters.
The meditation was about focusing on our inner flame and fanning this flame higher. The Cunning Flame of Wisdom, gifted to us by the Master.
Then it was time for His sacrifice by my hand. While the Wild Irish Woman drummed a slow funeral dirge I dug holes in the ground to be His grave. I prayed over the body of the King that was soon to be slain by the hand that made him. The drumming quickened, and so did the tears that fell from my eyes. My hands shook as I lifted the blade. I cried out and stabbed once, twice, three times. In this neck, his heart, his phallus.
Breathing heavily I buried my King.
The King is dead; Long live the King!
We solemnly drank to his Sacrifice, and hoped for his speedy return to the Land. We feasted, and laughed, and chatted for a while, and then it was time to return. We chanted
Rentum Tormentum, in the Horned One’s name!
dancing all the while around so that we flew back to the surface like a cork rising in water. We thanked the spirits for their power and I closed the circle, sending the energies back into the Land.
And that was that. We played a few more tunes, and drummed merrily, before returning to the roads, and the buildings, and the streetlamps.
