This week’s full moon was a bit of an unknown. I only had the one thing I really needed to do and that was to rededicate my horn cup which sprung a leak early last year and had just recently been repaired…other than that I was unsure where this would go, knowing only for sure there would be a compass and there would be a sacrament.
I packed my kit, nothing more at first than my cup, some bread, a bottle of mead and knife. Something else however told me to pack my Runes. ”Just in case…”
Out of the kitchen window the sun was starting to set, just caressing the top of the North Downs, the blue sky slowly giving way to the faintest hues of orange and pink. It dawned on me it was to be one of those occasions where actually, the work had started long before the compass laid or powers called, although what ‘the work’ was going to entail? I had no idea…I didn’t even know where! Yet armed with my rucksack and twisted hazel walking stick I set off…going with the flow it seemed, travelling with the current, surrendering to the powers, “Do with me what you will…!”
I ended up on top of the Downs, walking around the open grasslands and woods surrounding the Kits Coty Cairn. As I walked I felt myself slow, like something was pulling me back, reining in and subduing. I walked slowly, breathed deeply…stopping occasionally to investigate the occasional stone or stick which caught my eye. The mediocrity of life fell away; I was again amongst the trees and upon the land…the lone wanderer, outcast, the boundaries between worlds began to bleed and eventually fade.
I walked for some time under the trees in the fading twilight, pondering the work ahead but actually starting to feel unprepared and way out of my comfort zone…me, ‘clip board man’, planner extraordinaire hadn’t a clue what I was going to do.
I came to rest upon the brow of the hill, on the borders between clipped pasture and rough meadow. I had a ciggy and just sat watching the world, listening to the roosting birds, the occasional Blackbird streaking past me with its distinctive laugh as the last few insects buzzed and hovered about the grass.
Behind me I could feel the presence of the cairn, the stony cold unforgiving presence of the tomb, which once revered as the resting place of someone important, now stood as a relic of the people’s past, unassuming. In front of me the bright lights of civilisation twinkled as street lights and homes began to light up beneath the darkening skies, disembodied headlights floating round amidst the white noise of technology, the future spread before me. To my left the red stained moon was rising, reflecting the last of the light from the skies blazing upon the horizon to the right of me. Overhead the first stars became visible; glistening like tiny jewels set upon deep navy velvet and all the while the solid limestone and hard baked clay supported me from below. For a while I felt small, so small…nothing but a speck upon a sandy shore.
Forcing my walking stick into the seemingly impenetrable clay I stood before it…the axis, the centre, a point equidistant from past, future, left, right, sky and earth…I stood at that centre and gazing out across the town I call home, now illuminated under the night sky beneath a great dome of artificial light the words of Bill Gray rang clear like a glass bell “seek to serve…!”
Calling to the powers I began to rhythmically shake the suede pouch containing my runes, blood from a few thorn scratches on my fingers mingled with the stones as I prayed to Him who has been called Light Bringer, Saviour, Christ, Jesus, Lucifer, Prometheus…Master. I prayed for the people before me, the people gripped with despair, beaten by recession, the people discontent with government, the people living hand to mouth (with very little in said hand), the people working hard just to make ends meet, for their future and their children’s’ future. I prayed for hope, illumination, wisdom and restoration. I prayed for the people, I prayed to the ancestors to guide them, I prayed to the land to sustain them.
Quickly removing five runes from the pouch, arranging them on the ground before me one by one instinctively in the shape of a reversed pentagram, a symbol of sprit’s descent into matter, a symbol of manifestation (and of course His symbol). I was no longer working under my own jurisdiction but someone else’s…my hands, no longer under my control, touched each rune in turn tracing the shape of the five pointed star calling out the Rune’s name along with its meaning. Laid out before me unfolded the story of man, from a distant past to the birth of modern civilisation gifted by the Gods, guided by those who have been before towards a sacred and shared destiny….”Every Man and Woman…a Star”
Mead was poured into my rededicated cup, bread was broken, both blessed and shared with the Gods of this land and the land itself, dedicated to the people who dwell here…sustenance for us all.