Are you Ready to Die?

Boo! - by Modern Scribe Photography

October. Samhain. The Turn of the Wheel.

At a festival years ago, Eric and I were asked to hold a position in an autumnal ritual - to play the role of questioner, of taunter, of fae...in this case, some little devils known as the "Ooga Boogas."

Sunset had begun. A line of ritual attendees paraded themselves to the valley with the raised circle waiting for them, and they were all told to think of the goals we wanted to accomplish in the coming solitude of the winter months, and were also to contemplate the harvest of our mind and body's work of the previous year.

Everyone began to follow this focus and create those visualizations, until they reached the ritual circle. Then as we felt the tug, one by one, all of the Ooga Boogas peeled away silently from the line and began darting around, whispering doubts into the ears of those meditating. We asked them the sort of tough questions that are hard to ask yourself, and even harder to answer.

"Are you happy with your life?"

"What are you doing with your time here on Earth?"

"How much is life worth to you?"

And as the ritual progressed, we melted back into the lines of attendees, all of us riding the waves of magic as it rippled throughout the night. Confidence and reassurance was returned to those who listed to the questions and heard the doubts and fears prompted by our whispers, and the concerns were temporarily forgotten as people began to dance and celebrate around the huge fire ringed by drums.

Day of the Dead, by Modern Scribe Photo.

One of my fellow doubt-bringers was a Priest of the Serpent path and was quite an appropriately chosen Ooga Booga, in my opinion. Yet after the ritual, I found him quite distraught, seemingly wrapped in the doubts he'd been asked to spread. I asked him if he was well, and he explained that he couldn't whisper a single thing to anyone participating. He said that the only question that he could imagine was too harsh, and would terrify people.

The only question he has was "Are you ready to die?"

Most people know me as a creature of light, oh my gentle readers. And this is true. But I am more than that a creature of balance. I acknowledge the dark desires as well as the selfless and pure. And I informed this priest that his question was the more potent and precise of all that I heard asked.

Am I ready to die? Should it all end tomorrow, would I be satisfied with all that I have accomplished, or experienced? Most of my soul feels that it is so - I would not be a weeping and wandering ghost full of unrequited loves and unspoken words. (Were I to be a ghost, I would be one just for the fun of terrorizing and alternately amazing people with my shimmering nature. It's a kick! I suggest you try it sometime, when you are good and dead.)

Are you ready to die? And if not, then what is it you haven't done, and why haven't you done it? This is the season of mirror-staring; of ompaloskepsis, of scrying. Enter into winter prepared, my lovies. This season has some big ripples for us to ride.

Are you ready to live?

Picture Post: Drum Altar, Equinox 2011

The drum altar is one of my favorite parts of participating in events with my spiritual family. Made up of eclectic, ecstatic, and excited witches, we use this space as a focal point for the community at large weekend events.

The core structure of the drum altar uses the Yoruban Ifá sprits, the Orisha, and their archetypes to build from...but the altar is not limited to that tradition. We have many different paths at these events, and the common languages are love and drum...so there is a Ganesha, a Legolas doll on the Ochossi altar (hunter, archer, tree-dweller), many many different things used to symbolize the energies we are all bringing together to work with.

Along with symbols, the festival participants bring food, candy, fruit, bread, wine, rum, whisky, cigars, candles, and more...the offerings left on the higher tiers are left for the gods, and those on the blanket are for the hungry and thirsty drummers, dancers, and watchers as the night grows darker and the fire grown higher.

Here are some glimpses of the altar during the daytime...imagine it at night, lit by tealights and candles, the mirrors flashing with the firelight, the pounding drums at your back, and the blankets full of happy people feeding each other chocolate, honey, and grapes!

Oshun, Mary, Sweet Mother, the center and heart of the altar.

A larger view of the altar...Oshun, Yemaya, and Eleggua

Ganesha is chilling next to Ochossi, and under Ogun.

Ancestor, trickster, gate and crossroads

A view of the left side, Ogun near the top, Obatala at the top, Chango opposite Ogun.

Holy Peat Fires, Batman...

Severe Thunderstorm warning...aaaaah.....I keep sending thoughts of rain from here in Asheville up the mountains and into the Dismal Swamp up in Virginia, where peat fires are raging since the beginning of the month.  Lightning strikes, and sets aflame the layers of turf and the old, dead trees.  The peat fire can burn underground, virtually undetectable, until it flares forth when it runs into clumps of dried grass or methane pockets from decayed animals.

I love my new home in the mountains, but that there burning swamp still owns a portion of my heart and soul.  Knowing that the fires are chasing out the wildlife that makes that green spot on the map a home makes me tremble, knowing that bears and deer will soon be filling the roads and farmers' fields is upsetting.  The human civilization footprint is huge...there are so few sanctuaries left and the swamp ecosystem is already compromised.  And now she's burning.  So I've been touchy.

I keep looking at the rain falling outside of my window and being so thankful and yet so sad.  There is a terrible famine in Africa, worldwide temperature fluctuations are making the wet places burn, and the shifts are so rapid...

This too must pass.

Breathe.