This ritual is essentially a rite in praise of Brighid, as Llwyn y Sêr
has a strong relationship with her. Therefore this probably isn’t much
use if Brighid is not a deity honoured by yourself or your Grove! This takes
between one and two hours to perform. As with our Samhain ritual, the terms
‘priest’ and ‘priestess’ are generic – anyone
can take any of the parts. This could be done with two people, or ten. We
average around five.
The circle is outlined in as many candles as are feasible (up to sixteen,
if possible.) The altar is dressed in white, with many candles upon it. It
bears sprigs of ivy, witch-hazel and vases containing snowdrops and the very
first primroses, if any are to be found. The smudge-stick is of sweet woodruff,
for its gentle sweetgrass-like smell. Upon the altar should be a bowl of whisky,
and a brass bowl of full-fat organic milk. Also a loaf of sweet fresh bread.
Incense if used should be light, with frankincense and copal, and perhaps
dried spring flowers. A fire is at the centre of the circle, with bundles
of dried rosemary tucked away beside the altar.
All pass into the grove.
PRIEST:
Hail Spirits of this place!
Hail Spirits of this sacred place!
Hail Spirits of this place!
We come here in peace and with clear intent,
To celebrate the feast of Brighid of the Mantle,
And the Gateway of Spring.
Accept our presence, O Guardian Spirits,
Accept our presence.
The candles are lit, the fire stoked, the incense sparked, and each person
steps into the circle.
Calling the Quarters
PRIESTESS:
Close your eyes. You are walking along a ridgeway, at dawn. The Ground beneath
your feet is frosty and hard as rock. You are walking east, and before you
the sky is riven with the colours of dawn – reds, oranges, yellows,
delicate pinks. The whole sky seems ablaze with colour. You stand and feel
the wind, its clear, cool touch. Your breath fogs in the icy air in front
of you. Breathe in…
PRIEST:
Cold wind blows,
Winter snows.
Ice girds
Wings of birds.
Hail spirits of Air!
Come to us,
Be with us,
Tonight.
PRIEST:
Close your eyes. You are sitting at a hearth fire, in a shadowy building.
The wind is high and it is cold outside. You warm your hands at the blaze.
Look deep into the fire – what can you see? Beside you is a heap of
dry brush and kindling. You heap wood on the fire and hear the rush of sparks
and crackling flames as it catches. Feel its warmth on your face…
PRIESTESS:
Blazing hearth
On winter earth;
Warmth of flame -
home again.
Hail Spirits of Fire!
Come to us,
Be with us,
Tonight.
PRIESTESS:
Close your eyes.
You are by a river in winter. It is surrounded by willow trees and you notice
their buds are glowing orange with the sap rising in them. The river is churning
with rain-water. It is washing the land clean. Three swans, the birds of Brighid,
pass by you on the grey waters. You reach into the water and feel the bite
of the cold.
PRIEST:
Grey flood
Thickens mud.
River flowing,
Winter going.
Hail Spirits of Water!
Come to us,
Be with us,
Tonight.
PRIEST:
You are walking over the brown earth of a newly plowed field, towards a copse
of trees – hazel, elder, ash. Your boots are heavy with sticky mud,
as you pass beyond the brambles into this sliver of woodland. It is filled
with the voices of birds, starting up again after their winter silence. Then,
half-hidden, you see it – a spread of snowdrops under the trees, glittering
white in their purity. You kneel and touch the cold earth in wonder.
PRIESTESS:
First shoots,
Stirring roots.
A new birth,
From a new earth.
Hail Spirits of Earth!
Come to us,
Be with us,
Tonight.
PRIESTESS:
The circle is cast. We are between the worlds.
PRIEST/ESS: [heaping more incense on the censer]
Ancestors and kindred many,
You whose breath we now breathe,
Whose blood is mingled with this most sacred soil,
We come before you tonight
With clean hands and pure hearts.
Blood-kin and Soul-kin
Guardians and guides,
We ask for your blessing and your presence.
A period of silence follows. All sit.
Invoking Brighid
PRIEST:
We are at the very beginning of Spring. Snowdrops are flowering, in bitter
cold. The dawns are fiery in the molten sky. The first celandines turn their
faces to mirror the young sun. Frost-scoured, the trees bend for Winter’s
absolution. The elms begin their purple flowering, hot stamens like gas-lights,
warm purple-blue, blushing into orange. And the witch-hazel is in full, flagrant
blaze. It is the time of Brighid, the Fostermother, the Fire-keeper... Speak
to us out of the burning bush, O Brighid. Tell us that the icy world will
catch and draw flame under this skin of bone. Work in us your alchemy of spring.
Make fire burn on grey water, as the willows draw up the river and distill
its grey into the malt of their glow, a scald of gold against the sky.
[The priestess stands, facing the fire, wearing white and with a mantle about
her shoulders. Beside her are bound bunches of dried rosemary (if you have
a big rosemary bush and prune it in the winter, the clippings are ideal.)
She places the bundles of rosemary into the fire at the centre of the circle,
which blazes up and crackles, filling the Grove with the wild, sweet scent
of the sun. She speaks in the persona of Brighid:]
PRIESTESS:
I am the fire.
I am one with the soul of the fire.
I burn on the forest-edge,
Where light gives way to smoke and shadows.
When I wish,
I set the sun to shimmer on the ice,
Unlocking the frozen pools.
My gestures turn to light
Like birds that rise to greet the dawn.
I am the fire.
I am one with the soul of the fire.
I am the mothering fire
In the midst of the house.
I am the warmth of the hearth,
The womb of bread.
I am the fire,
And I am one with the soul of the fire.
If you insult me,
I will become ashes -
And only a smile may bring me
To turn back,
To show once more
The radiance of my face.
The awen is called nine times. How we do this depends on how many people in
the Grove have the confidence to sing. Both of us who facilitate the Grove
have a horror of half-mumbled chant, but neither of us like singing in front
of others either! Though this chant is most often sung as a monotonal ahhh
oooh eeehn, we’ve experimented with ornamenting it into a more complex
vocal line influenced by Byzantine chant, with lots of swooping melismas and
eastern-sounding ‘breaks’ in the voice. When this works, it really
does work.
Praising Brighid
Then a praise-poem to Brighid goes round the circle, each person having a
verse each. The first line should reflect their own understanding of or relationship
with the Lady of the Flame of Spring…here are some examples.
Brighid of the Mantle,
Fire and flame
Holy holy
Is thy name
White-armed Woman,
Fire and flame
Holy, Holy
Is thy name
O Sun of Spring,
Fire and flame
Holy, Holy
Is thy name
O Lady of the Lambs,
Fire and flame
Holy, holy
Is thy name
Mother of Mercy,
Fire and flame
Holy, holy
Is thy name
The last person finishes with:
O Kind Mother
O Gracious Mother
O Beloved Mother -
We honour you tonight.
Now everyone is aware of the energy of Brighid singing in their hearts, offerings
are made to her. The priestess pours the whiskey into the fire, and the milk
is poured upon the earth, with blessings such as:
To the Lady of the blazing forge of Inspiration,
To the Lady of the sweet milk of tenderness,
We offer gifts to you, in reverence and respect.
Rite of Cleansing
Upon the altar there are bunches of birch and rosemary twigs, one for every
person present, bound with white wool. The birch is a tree of new beginnings
and of cleansing. The priestess takes the bunches and goes to the first person
to her right, as widdershins is the direction of cleansing and banishing.
The person extends their arms and the priestess gently brushes the twigs up
and down over their body, front and back, to cleanse them of what is outworn.
The idea is that one should be left tingling and smelling of rosemary rather
than scratched. When this is done, she hands the bundle of twigs to the person,
who crushes them up, and throws them into the fire.
This goes on until everyone in the circle has been cleansed.
PRIEST:
And now, when we are cleansed of the outworn, we are like newborn infants.
And so we remember our own tender spots, those places where we need healing
and safety, to find our strength. For Brighid is also the Fostermother of
the Young Sun, the Protectress.
The priestess places her mantle snugly around the first person to her left,
saying ‘Blessings of spring’s beginning.’
The person wearing the cloak pulls it tight around them and says:
O Brighid of the Mantle
Spread about my shoulders
Your mantle white to guard me.
Using the long taper provided, they kindle a candle in a jar in front of
them. They should take this candle with them after the ritual and let it burn
down upon their home altar. They say:
I kindle my hopes and dreams for the coming year. May they grow with the
young Sun.
They then pass the cloak to the next person round the circle, until all have
worn it, and have lit a candle to their dreams.
Feasting
The Priestess blesses the bread and warm milk, saying:
Bless this that we bring to you, O Brighid.
May we taste the sweetness of new life.
We have warm milk with cinnamon hidden in a thermos under the altar, with
a good glug of whisky in it. It is often a great relief on a frozen February
night to see the steam rising from the chalice that you hold with frozen fingers!
The assembled company eat and drink and make their offerings to the spirits,
then talk of their hopes for the year. They may sing or make offerings of
poetry. (The first section of ‘Little Gidding’, the last of T.S.
Eliot’s Four Quartets is often recited in our Grove. It captures the
time of year better than anything I have ever read.)
Closing
The Priestess stands and says:
Ancestors and kindred many,
We thank you for your blessing and your presence,
unseen but not unfelt.
May you always have peace and light.
May your souls shine brightly in all future lives.
Hail and farewell!
Blessed be as blessed is.
Priest:
Thanks be to you, our Lady of Light!
Skin-shedder, Serpentskirt,
Sun-bright Brighid of the golden braids,
The Exalted One, the All-Excelling.
Hail and farewell!
Blessed be as blessed is.
The quarters are uncalled by the simple technique of the person concerned
kneeling at the quarter-point and touching their praying hands to their hearts,
their foreheads, and then bowing their heads and raising their hands up and
forward as a gesture of respect. Justine and I have found that the stillness
and poise that this gesture requires means the spirits are respected, the
four quarters are consistently uncalled, and an atmosphere of reverent stillness
is preserved, making the opening of the circle less jarring.
