The circle is outlined in with branches, or stones, or a length of rope. (This
is just the way we do things!) We tend to celebrate Lughnasadh during the
afternoon, in a grassy field near our grove. Two years ago, our priestess’
baby son curled up and went to sleep in a nest of grass in the circle, and
we were surrounded by darting dragonflies and thistledown in the rich light.
It was idyllic. We might have the altar just as bare wood, or draped in golden
cloth, with the first blackberries, plums, and raspberries on it…we
also tend to have oak leaves, wheat and rose petals. The smudge-stick is made
of rosemary, cistus and golden marjoram. (Cistus works really well dried in
a smudge-bundle – it gives a kind of fragrant, resinous, slightly spicy
smell.) We might also have a granular incense going on the altar, with frankincense,
myrrh and dried sage or marjoram again. On the altar we have one candle, for
the element of fire, a bowl of water, a chalice of red wine, a bowl of red
wine, and a fresh organic brown loaf. I try to make the bread myself, but
results have been occasionally indifferent. My mother made a lethal concoction
of rum infused with sugar and summer fruits for one Christmas, which we then
had as the drink for the following Lammas…I don’t recommend it.
Drinking a delicious ruby-coloured fruit drink in hot August sun was a blessing
of harvest indeed, but it was so fruity and fragrant that we entirely forgot
it was essentially *neat dark rum*, making the rest of the day a something
of a write-off. A chalice of infused fruit juice or a weak cider would work
well instead! Obviously we don’t have a fire at Lughnasadh, and only
cast the circle loosely. Lughnasadh is for us a very lazy, gentle ritual,
when it can seem good just to sit and be in the hazy light of harvest.
Everyone gathers in the field.
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 Lugh of the Long Arm and the First Fruits.
Accept our presence, O Guardian Spirits,
Accept our presence.
The candle is lit, the incense sparked, and each person steps into the circle.
The priestess censes the circle’s boundary with the smudge-stick, and
another priestess sprinkles it with water. All imagine a sphere of creamy-gold
(or whatever colour seems best to each) around them, forming itself as the
priestesses pass by.
Calling the Quarters
Often we work with a guided visualization for the elements, but as it is
daytime, one of the celebrants merely helps the others to open in awareness
to what is around them. We started doing this after one of our good friends,
who’s a Wiccan, joined our circle for a festival – we decided
that we wouldn’t script the calling of the quarters as we were all experienced.
We invoked air and fire in our usual druidic fashion, and then our Wiccan
friend, quite reasonably, called the ‘Guardians of the Watchtowers of
the West…’ in Wiccan fashion, which was a bit jarring. The effect
was to leave our circle feeling lopsided. So now we script the calling of
the quarters so that they are firm and consistent. It might seem a bit prescriptive
(‘coming the brigadier bitch’ as it’s referred to in our
group) but at the time it was very necessary.
PRIESTESS: [describing what she can see, as all turn to face the east]
The breeze is stirring the golden grass. Butterflies pass by and dragonflies
dip and dart. Birds call from the dusty thickets and the wind stirs the oaks.
There are fat hives and singing bees. Feel the wind’s gentle breath
on your face…the rich sweet smell of harvest hangs in the clear air.
PRIEST:
Wind stirs
Tawny grasses.
White thistledown
Floating passes.
Hail spirits of Air!
Come to us,
Be with us,
Today.
PRIEST: [describing what he can see, as all turn to face the south]
Rich summer light lies upon the land. Corn ripens, fruits swell in the sun,
fill with sun-sweetened juices. We are drenched in light and warmth, here
in the eye of the sun. Feel the heat of the sun on your skin, the glare of
the light.
PRIESTESS:
Sunlight gilds
The harvest fields.
Sun calls forth
Sweet earth’s yield.
Hail Spirits of Fire!
Come to us,
Be with us,
Today.
PRIESTESS: [describing what she can see as all turn to face the west –
if you’re not near water, this can take some imagination!]
In the first fruits, the sap turns sweet. Dews dry swiftly in the bright
mornings. When the sky hangs humid, summer storms burst and flash, refresh
the dry land, the dusty woods. Rivers run cool and green, banks lush with
comfrey, meadowsweet and water-mint.
PRIEST:
Juice swells
Within sweet fruits –
groundwater calls
To thirsty roots.
Hail Spirits of Water!
Come to us,
Be with us,
Today.
PRIEST: [describing what he can see as all turn to face the north]
The trees are waist-deep in shimmering grasses, and the earth is dry and
dusty. Corn lies rich over the land, and oaks bud forth new shoots. The woods
are dark hollows where the acorns swell. Hazelnuts are nestling under leaves.
Under this harvest light, the rich land ripens.
PRIESTESS:
Under the sun
Gold wheat dries.
Harvest comes,
Summer flies.
Hail Spirits of Earth!
Come to us,
Be with us,
Today.
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 today
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.
PRIESTESS:
Harvest is heady in the air. The sky is rich and golden overhead, mirroring
the white-gold of the fragrant corn below, chequered by the shadows of clouds
that pass. The woods are dark and dry where we hide from the heat of the fierce
sun. Earth thirsts for rain, and begins her labour of harvest. Already we
see the first fruits – waxy plums, the first blackberries, sweet-juiced
raspberries, nuts that cluster to ripen beneath the hazel leaves. Wasps nose
along sun-warmed walls at evening, lazing in the light. Everywhere there is
sweet fruit and ferment, and yet this is a time of blood…blood on the
corn, the sacrifice of Lugh. Light and loss are mingled; though we lie drenched
in light, the evenings are already shortening, and we sense the first beginnings
of earth’s sorrowing in autumn.
Praising Lugh
The priest stands, and raises his arms to the sun.
PRIEST:
O Lugh of the Long Arm -
You arch over earth
To kiss the corn,
To call it forth,
To see it born.
Your hillslopes flaunt,
breathe golden bees.
From parched fields
Scant dewfall flees.
Your chest is opened
Your heart exposed
Your blood like bronze
And amber flows.
Sun sears your flesh
Asprawl in thistles
Through your wound
Your life’s breath whistles.
You laid you down
In fragrant thyme,
To bleed the sun’s
Entranced decline.
You wrestled harvest,
Corn to capture –
Now we see at sunfall
Your face of rapture.
The priestess offers the bowl of wine to Lugh, raising it to the heavens and
then pouring it into the grass at the circle’s centre. She says:
The eye of the great God
The eye of the God of glory
The eye of the God of hosts
The eye of the God of the living
Pouring upon us at each time and season
Pouring upon us gently and generously
Glory to thee, thou Sun
Face of the God of life.
To the Lord of Harvest
To the Lady of the Land
We offer our gifts of thanks
In reverence and respect.
The awen is called, nine times. Sometimes we might sing a song for Lugh. Again,
as I’ve written in our other rituals, music isn’t really a Llwyn
y Sêr strong point, but we do try. There’s a lovely CD called
Alleluias et Offertoires des Gaules, by one Iegor Reznikoff, which has single-voiced
chants from very early medieval France, solemn and sad, with lots of Celtic-sounding
ornamentation. I do my best with an adaptation of one of those, calling Lugh’s
name, Lugh Lámhfhada (Loo LAW-vudduh). It seems to work well, capturing
the drift and dream of the season. If anyone has seen Pasolini’s extraordinary
film Medea, it starts with a Frazerian harvest-sacrifice in a primitive ancient
community in the east, hallucinatory in its intensity – due in no small
part to Maria Callas’ mesmerizing performance as the Priestess, Medea.
The music of the women as the young man is ripped apart is terrifying and
beautiful – very Mystère des Voix Bulgares. A big group with
lots of people who can sing might find useful ideas in the film…
Rite of Thanks for the First Fruits
This is a chance for everyone to pause and think about what they are harvesting
– not the main harvest, which is to come, but the first signs - what
has swelled to ripeness in their lives, and what stayed shriveled on the branch.
The priestess passes around a small bowl of fruits from the altar, and each
person chooses one and presses it to their lips, saying:
I give thanks for my first fruits of harvest.
I give thanks for the richness that is to come.
I acknowledge also that in my life which came to flower,
But was not meant to fruit.
They press the fruit to their lips till the juice bursts, and eat it gleefully.
Depending on how close the Grove is, people may want to talk about the first
fruits of harvest in their lives, in thanks and freedom.
Feasting
The Priestess blesses the chalice of wine, saying:
May this wine be blessed and sacred,
Here in this time of harvest.
Then she takes the bread, and sits with it in her lap. It seems good to pause
over the consecration of the bread at Lughnasadh. She lifts it up and says:
Many in this world go hungry.
Many are ill-nourished, in soul and in body.
Here, in this time of harvest,
In the blessed presence of our ancestors and our Gods,
To bless and eat this new bread is an invocation.
May none hunger!
May none thirst!
May Justice prevail on earth.
May we honour the web within which we live.
May we eat with honour.
She breaks the bread and it is passed around, and the wine too, with offerings
to the spirits. As each person lifts the bread to eat, they should think of
ways in which what they consume can be made more ethical. Shopping for locally-sourced
and fair-trade food, eating organically, growing some vegetables for themselves,
cutting down on processed rubbish….the TDN website is full of good information
on this. It’s also a good time to make a donation to a charity that
distributes food and aid to those in need.
All sit and feast and share stories and poems. Often we have to try not to
fall asleep in the sun, it can be so delicious!
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, Lugh of the Long Arm,
Lord of the Sun, and the fragrant flame of harvest.
We live by your grain and your sacrifice,
For you give life to the seed and are reborn with the seed.
Thanks be to you, Lady of Harvest,
Giver of fruitfulness and the sweetness of long days,
For we live by your health and fruitfulness,
Your gathered sheaves in the hall of harvest.
Blessed be as blessed are!
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. We’ve 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.
