Fall Equinox Sunrise At Stonehenge
First of Autumn - Enya
Mabon / Autumn Equinox
Ode to the Autumn Equinox
Sabbat Mabon - Autumn Equinox
Impressions of Autumn
Six
months after the day the sun crossed the equator, during
which the hours of the night and day were equal in length,
on the Autumn Equinox the sun once again crosses the
equator. Again, the time of day and of night are equal in
length. At the earlier equinox the sun crossed the equator
while the days grew progressively longer and the nights
shorter. Now, on the Autumn Equinox, the days continue to
grow gradually shorter and the nights longer. For the
remainder of the year, until Yule, each day night will be
longer than the time of daylight. The Autumn Equinox,
which occurs each year around September 22, marks the end
of summer and the beginning of fall or autumn. This year
the Autumn Equinox will be on Wednesday (Odin's Day),
September 23 (Shedding 23) at 4:21 AM EDT, 3:21 AM CDT,
2:21 AM MDT, and 1:21 AM PDT.
This
year, four days after the Equinox, the night of September
27, we will also have a supermoon lunar eclipse. It will
begin around 10:11 pm EDT, 9:11 PM CDT, 8:11 PM MDT, and
7:11 PM PDT. More information on this is provided in the
link in the last article below. This eclipse occurs the
night before the actual full moon, during which, as
practitioners know, the energies of the full moon are
available and accessible. This year you will have the
diminishing energies of the Equinox, combined with the
growing energies of a super full moon and a lunar eclipse.
For those who practice either group or solitary full moon
rituals, the one for this month may be one of special and
rare significance and meaning with increased power.
With
the equinox six months earlier we saw the earth begin to
transform from the drab grayness of winter into the
greening of spring as nature continued to awaken in a
renewal of life from her winter slumber. Now, we enter the
season of the Wheel of the Year when periods of cool,
sometimes cold, weather will alternate with periods of
warmer days, or in some parts of the country we pass
through what we know as “Indian Summer.” But the days will
continue to grow cooler, almost in relief after the hot
days of summer, which are now over until spring and then
summer returns on the eternal Wheel of the Year. Nature
gradually becomes less green. But before the drab grayness
of winter, sometimes blanketed in the whiteness of snow,
comes, we witness what in many areas may be the most
colorful time of the year. Leaves turn into a variety of
sometimes brilliant colors before they are shed as trees
prepare to go into their annual hibernation for winter.
Especially in more northerly areas, the perceptive may
already detect the faint stirrings of the frost giants,
beaten back by Thor earlier in the year, but who are now
slowly reawakening to again assail our world. The
increasing signs of the season to follow the one now
beginning is why this holiday is called on the Norse
calendar Winter Finding.
This
holiday not only celebrates the Autumn Equinox, it is also
the second of the harvest festivals. By now in most areas
the harvesting of the year’s crops has been completed or
is about to be finished. For Pagans, this main harvest
festival, which could also be called Second Harvest, is
our real “Thanksgiving.” This is the day to call upon in
appreciation and to honor our Gods and Goddesses of the
harvest as we earlier did for those more associated with
fertility. Too many today fail to realize that the
harvesting of bountiful crops is really as critically
important for us now as it was for our ancestors. Today
for many people crop failures and resulting shortages may
be noticed more in the form of price increases at the
grocery store, with serious trouble indicated by some
items not as available as they usually are and then only
for outrageously higher prices. But it was not that many
generations ago that how well or how poor was the year’s
crops determined how, or even if, one was able to survive
the coming winter season.
Before
what we now know by the name was imported from the
Americas, the English “corn” originally was a word used to
mean “wheat” or, more generically, “grain.” A harvest
tradition across Northern Europe which goes back 4,000
years or more was to take the last sheaves of the “corn”
which were harvested for that year, and to fashion them
into various shapes, depending upon the custom of the area
and the time. These shaped sheaves were stored in honored
places until the following spring, when they would be sewn
into the ground along with seeds for the spring planting.
It was believed that the spirit of the plants of the crop
lived on after harvesting. The figures fashioned from the
last harvested sheaves were made to provide a home for the
spirit of the crop which lived on during the fall and
winter months. This spirit was returned to its natural
home in the earth, or in the plants which grew from it,
with the next spring planting. This annual ritual was done
in the hope for a good crop the coming year, and in
respect for not only the spirit of the crop but also in
reverence for other spirits of the land, and for the Gods
and Goddesses, who oversee fertility and other forces of
nature. This spirit was personified in some areas as “corn
maiden,” in others as “corn mother.” In the British Isles
these figures evolved into what we know today as “corn
dollies.” Vegetarians like to refrain from eating meat
because living animals are killed to provide that meat,
yet not overlooked by our ancestors is that plants are
also living, breathing life forms. All life forms have an
aura, energy, or spirit of some sort. Even otherwise
inanimate objects can absorb, collect and exude energy
over time.
Autumn
Equinox and the Second Harvest have been celebrated down
through the ages all over the world by innumerable peoples
and their cultures, and under many names. In some areas
Druids celebrated this holiday as Alban Elfed, which means
“Light of the Water.” Elsewhere this holiday has been
celebrated as Harvest Home, Feast of Avalon, Cornucopia,
or the Festival of Dionysus. Those following a revived
Celtic path have come to celebrate it as Mabon. This
holiday is named in honor of the Celtic Welsh God Mabon,
or Mabon ap Modron, which means “Great Son of the Great
Mother.” Mabon’s mother, Modron, is Guardian of the
Otherworld. In lore, shortly after he was born, Mabon was
taken and disappears for a time. He is later rescued,
revived or returned—similar to how the light or power of
the sun, at Autumn Equinox, weakens or begins to
“disappear” for a time, only to later return and revive.
The
drama of Autumn Equinox is reflected in the Greek tale of
Demeter, Goddess of grain and of the harvest, and her
daughter Persephone, Goddess of vegetation. Demeter is
also viewed as presiding over sacred law and as one of the
founders of the Eleusinian Mysteries. Hades abducted
Persephone and took her to the underworld realm over which
he rules and after whom it is named. In her anguish in
searching for but not finding her daughter Persephone,
Demeter cursed the vegetation of the earth. Vegetation and
plant life were to vanish and appear to die for as long as
Persephone was gone. Trees lost their leaves and went into
slumber. All kinds of plant life withered away. The earth
began to look very bleak. Zeus then worked out an
arrangement in which Persephone would reside with Hades
only a few months, and would return to reside with her
mother and on the earth the rest of the year. When
Persephone returned, plants again sprouted, leaves
returned to the trees, crops were able to grow again, and
the earth came back to life. But when Persephone returns
each year to the underworld, plants again wither, and
nature again falls into the slumber of winter.
The
Norse version of this holiday, Winter Finding, is the time
of year homage is paid to Sif, Goddess of the harvest, of
grain and of plenty. Sif is the mother of Uller, Norse God
of archery, of skiing and of winter. So Sif, who is
honored while celebrating the Second Harvest at the coming
of Autumn, as the mother of Uller, may also be said to be
the mother of winter. Sif is also the wife of Thor.
In
addition to his more well known role as defender of
Asgard, the realm of the Aesir, and of Midgard (or, when
translated more into our modern English, Middle Earth),
the realm of mortal humans, Thor is also a patron of
yeomen and a friend of common people generally. Sif is
known for her beautiful golden colored hair, which can be
seen as a symbol of wheat and other grain crops which,
when ripe for harvesting, appear golden in the field. One
night, while Sif was asleep, the spiteful Loki sneaked
into her bedroom and cut off her hair. Terrified of the
wrath of an outraged Thor, Loki offered to go to the
dwarves, renowned as skilled craftsmen, to obtain a
special item which would remedy the harm he had done. The
dwarves crafted a headpiece made of fine golden threads
which, when placed on Sif’s head, attached and grew as her
own hair, more beautiful than before. The conniving Loki
was also able to induce the dwarves to craft a number of
other items, including Gungnir, which became Odin’s spear,
which never misses its mark, the golden bristled
Gullinbursti, which became Freyr’s boar, and the special
weapon named Mjollnir (“Crusher”) which became Thor’s
Hammer. As Sif’s golden hair symbolizes crops ripe in the
fields, the cutting of Sif’s hair may be seen as
representing the harvesting of bountiful crops during the
final harvest.
The
next planned e-newsletter will be about what for many,
including me, is one of the most favorite holidays of the
year, Samhain or Winter Nights, aka Halloween. Stories,
poetry, prose or invocations you may wish to share will be
appreciated and enjoyed by your fellow Pagans on the
e-mail list for this e-newsletter.
Gandalf
HARVEST PRAYER TO THE ALL FATHER
FOR THE SOLITARY SPIRIT
All Father, I come thankfully to lay my altar before you.
I have banned the chaos from this space to commune
with you,
to
open my heart and mind to your strong and fertile power.
I see you in the harvest about me; I come to praise
you and to thank you!
You are Life’s germination, the magical spark of
Life’s continuation,
the
tassel and seed in the fields of grain,
the
bursting fruit swollen by your rain and ripened by the Sun.
You are our Mother’s gardner sowing the seeds of life
onto
this holy womb, this Mother Earth.
All Father, you are the magnet in my soul drawing me
to the horizon,
the yearning within me to wander and seek beyond the Sunset,
the
drive to explore, the unrest, the thirst to quest.
You are the shadow that gives form to Light, the
gravity that anchors flight.
You received the spark of my spirit and set it in the
cradle that is Earth.
Your birthing hands set my days in toll and your arms
will carry me
back
to the Great Mother’s womb to be remade, renewed, reborn.
You spin the wheel of birth and life and death, the
devoted partner
of
the Goddess I adore.
I call to you beloved All Father at this season’s
Harvesting time.
I
feel your magic in the harvest bounty piled high in
the silos,
the
barns and the cribs.
I celebrate the pulse of this life you set in toll
and helped me mold!
Come
see my celebration, my joy behold.
This turning Wheel is the bounty of your wisdom,
your
plan to carry us through the dark months of wind and cold.
I raise this fruit, this fertile seed, this tribute
to my Lord and Lady Queen!
Be here with me – hear my harvest song as I offer my
harvest prayer.
I too am renewed, replenished from your Season of
Light,
strengthened
and nourished as I step to the turning wheel again.
I am nourished by the power of this passing season,
walking
joyful, my spirit strong and without fear.
I harvest the Earth-deep, love and peace of the
Great Mother,
the
fertile wisdom and willful spirit of my All Father.
Like the barns and stockpiles and fruit jars fully
filled,
I
have stockpiled the Light of Life in this passing
year.
Hear my reverent prayer of thanks this Harvest night!
Rowana the Druid
Sif´s Seasons
From springtime´s barley sowing,
Ears shining like the sun
Deck bald fields with their glowing,
A headdress newly spun.
The rain descends in summer
Midst Thunder´s rumbling clap
As gently as the hammer
Into the young bride´s lap.
With autumn come the thieves
To cut the golden hair,
Our folk again receives
A harvest rich and fair.
As winter fields lie fallow,
We cherish every sheaf:
We bake and brew and hallow
The golden gifts of Sif.
© Michaela Macha
INVOCATION OF PLENTY
Sweet
Autumn ‘s breath, Memories of Old,
Ancestral knowledge as rich as the leaves.
Bones of the Earth, blood of the Sea
Nourish our children and nourish our deeds.
Winter’s hearth fire Igniting our hope
Flaming visions of health, our bodies alive.
Hands of our People, Minds of our Time
Keep building a future where our children may thrive.
Salt spray of Autumn, replenishing Peace,
Cool waters of Worlds which bring blissful song.
Wisdom of ancients and Respect for those gone
Bathes all of our actions in virtuous calm.
Mabon’s ripe vine, abundance of Love,
Horns spilling over with fruit, grain and seeds.
Bones of the Earth, Blood of the Sea
Nourish our children and nourish our deeds.
Oh bounteous Earth, beauty of souls,
The Magick within our sisters and brothers,
We nourish Earth’s Temple with food of our spirits,
May
we all learn to nourish each other.
Jason Hauser, The Rowan Tree Church
Sif
I am the seed, lost
in ignorance and fear.
Encompass me in the nurturing darkness of Your rich soil.
Let my roots drink deeply from the nectar of wisdom that You offer.
Let me appreciate each day and hour of my journey,
each moment of my blossoming faith,
for each step I take, though difficult, brings me closer to You.
Let me treasure the time I must spend
nurturing my awareness of Your bounty and grace.
Let me feel the gentle comfort of Your patient guidance.
I seek to grow in faith, in knowledge of You,
the lessons of the passage of time etched upon my toughening skin,
the tales of my survival by Your grace engraved upon each withering leaf
of the days and nights of my existence.
Teach me to craft, in gentle service,
a home within my heart that will be an honor to You.
Let me never hesitate to invite You
into the home that is my heart.
Encompass me in the nurturing darkness of Your rich soil.
Let my roots drink deeply from the nectar of wisdom that You offer.
Let me appreciate each day and hour of my journey,
each moment of my blossoming faith,
for each step I take, though difficult, brings me closer to You.
Let me treasure the time I must spend
nurturing my awareness of Your bounty and grace.
Let me feel the gentle comfort of Your patient guidance.
I seek to grow in faith, in knowledge of You,
the lessons of the passage of time etched upon my toughening skin,
the tales of my survival by Your grace engraved upon each withering leaf
of the days and nights of my existence.
Teach me to craft, in gentle service,
a home within my heart that will be an honor to You.
Let me never hesitate to invite You
into the home that is my heart.
© Galina Krasskova
DEMETER’S HYMN
Maiden and youth, as fresh as
the dew,
New life unfolding, golden in hue
In the eyes of the young, the wheel
never turns,
Spring is unending, the lamp always burns.
Youth is protecting, exultant and bright,
His arms encircle his Maiden of Light.
A chalice of crystal, to the athame
a sheath,
The maiden enfolding, new life now beneath.
The seed has been planted, the new
life will form,
Daughter of promise, Maiden of Corn.
Mother and Father, consort and queen,
They dance through the forest, they
dance on the green.
The see the wheel as it winds on its ways,
Marking the seasons, counting their days.
Their children dance with them,
golden and warm,
The harvest is ripening, kept safe
from all harm.
Like silver and gold, life burnished bright,
The fruits of the Summer, they shine
in the light.
Sweet horn of plenty, may your
promise be born,
Bountiful Lady, Mother of Corn.
Grandmother, Grandfather, they stand
arm in arm,
Their circle near ending and waiting
the dawn.
They know well the wheel as they
circle about,
Their voices speak softer, no need
to shout.
New life and old, they faced each in turn,
Knowing that new from the old will return.
He dreams of the night of what he
has been,
Lord of the Forest, Lord of the Green.
But the bones of an old man are
painful and worn,
Will his Lady remember her Lord of
the Horn?
She sees him still as virile and young,
Blind to the changes the long years
have wrung.
A chalice of crystal, with the eyes
of the wise,
Knowing that love that is true never dies.
The harvest is gathered, how full is
the horn,
Lady of Wisdom, Crone of the Horn.
The wheel it has circled, time
without end,
Old life remembers, and welcomes the grain.
For the corn and the seed are one
and the same,
That which has been, will be again.
Demeter our Mother, behold the newborn,
Mother of all, behold the corn!
Lyn Hubert
|
---------------------------------------------------
No comments:
Post a Comment