We are on indefinite hiatus

Dear Readers,

For the past 2 ½ years, you have sent me your articles, pictures, artwork, and poetry. You have written on topics when I asked for them, you have shared your stories, you’re thoughts, you’re recipes, and you’re taste in music. All of you created the content of The Center Spiral for 11 issues, and I cannot thank you enough.

However, the task of organizing, building, compiling, advertising, and planning all of these amazing things into a cohesive whole has been monumental. In fact, it is too monumental for one person, especially when it is not that one person’s full time job. Unfortunately, I am that person, and I am unable to do this anymore.

Because of this, The Center Spiral will be going on hiatus indefinitely. There may be a time when we start again in another form, something better organized, better planned, and better manned, but I do not know when, or if, that will be.

We do have a plethora of submissions for the upcoming Rites of Passage issue, and I have not failed to consider those. We will publish each article as it’s own blog post at thecenterspiral.blogspot.com over the next couple of weeks, and share each one on our Facebook page. Any paid for ads will be shared this way as well, and refunded. The paypal will shut down, the email will remain open, though rarely checked, the blog will remain active, and the Facebook page will simply go silent, all after January 5, 2020.

I would like to give a massive thank you to everyone who served on my staff. I can promise you, this would have happened a long time ago if I did not have wonderful people helping me get things done.

I would also like to thank everyone who contributed to any issue. Especially if you did so regularly. This magazine would not have happened had I not had content from our contributors to fill the pages. Every article, poem, story, work of art and picture made this amazing.

Thank you to everyone who worked to make The Center Spiral happen. I am sorry I could not keep it going any longer. I appreciate your understanding.

With regret,
Emily Gabbert
Editor

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Musecraft with Phyllo Nova

with Phyllo Nova

A little more than a year ago, I wasn’t doing art, or anything for that matter. I was pre-diabetic, had suffered my second heart attack (by 45 no less), and was close to 400 lbs. I was on a litany of pills that were essentially letting me die slowly. I was ready to kill myself. But there were people around, so I waited.

If you hang around with a fractured soul long enough you're bound to lose an “I”. All of the “self” in me dissolved and I realized I was not alone in this mental silence that I suddenly found myself in. 

I studied several forms of magic in my youth, and was familiar with pushing around my will. I gave the presence in my mind permission to speak. It expressed to me without language that all would be ok, and that if I could suffer death then I could suffer any lesser fate gladly. I had to move forward as though this embodiment of the cosmos had blessed me. That was my truth.

Over the next year, this work has flowed through me. The subject matter comes from the spirits and teachers I encounter on my psychic excursions and deep meditations, and it’s a way to express gratitude for all they have taught me about existing. During these psychic excursions, I have learned what I call horcrux magic. Much of what I paint is an expression of this spellwork. 

I mostly work in acrylic and watercolor, some pen and marker as well. I like these media mostly because they are the most readily available. I’m really just getting started. One spirit, Luka the Joyous, wants to be manifested in wood and metal, so I’m currently working on that. I will work in whatever medium my current spirit guide inspires me to.

My advice to other artists is to see your art as THE thing of value, not as a commodity or price tag; it’s value begins in the present when brush meets canvas.

Please visit my website Phyllonovaart.com. I am currently working on a Tarot deck, as a thesis on the theosophy and practice of horcrux magic. I hope that you are inspired by my artwork, and please contact me at phyllonovaart@gmailcom to purchase my work, commission my art or calligraphy, or to get a Tarot card reading. Thank you for your sacred attention.

Pencraft with Chelsea Gilliam

Poetry by Chelsea Gilliam

Some days I want to curse the depth of my feelings. My emotional reservoir feels like an expansive pit that ends at a pool of lava, building a fire inside of me. Sometimes I worry I will not find someone with enough space in their life for all that I am. You see, I am a lot. I have a lot of opinions and plans I will start and never finish. My imagination has continued to expand with age, not diminish. I believe in love the size of the cosmos because I have felt things humans haven't yet created words to describe. I take up space. I dance. I yell. I give gifts to Mother Earth and talk to my divine self. I befriend animals and trees, and fungi and bees. I bring nature into my home. I have swam naked in every body of water I have found.I have no desire to squeeze myself into the corner of someone's existence. I will never be willing to part with pieces of who I am to accommodate an illusory boundary of a limitless feeling.

________________________

The chill caresses my bones
one last time
reminding me discomfort
is just a breeze away.
New life emerges
from the seemingly barren surroundings
I feel the seasons changing who I am,
year after year.
Leaves that once turned themselves,
are waiting for my hand.
I am turning the wheel.
I am leaving my fingerprints,
and scratches
on the backs of
clouds and rainbows.

_____________________

Today is the day.
Today is the day I put down the broom you handed me. I've carried it since the moment I fell in love with you - to every conversation, every moon rise, every hello and goodbye. My hands, calloused with the work that was expected of me, became numb to gentle caresses. The bones- seemingly molded around the wooden handle were no longer capable of interlocking yours.
Today is the day.
Today is the day I refuse to sweep away uncomfortable discussions, expectations or past transgressions. I will no longer spend my time and energy cleaning messes I did not make. Today, I will use my worn fingertips to write my farewell in the dust on the floor.

_________________

Who do I thank
for you?
I can only imagine you chose me
because I needed to be reminded
of just how soft
souls begin.

You see, Love,
mine is calloused from
the nagging of unfulfilled desires,
atrophied from the emptiness
of exploration,
charred by the fire
I have swallowed,
and punctured by
the teeth of those I trusted.

It takes a lot of heat to light the coal
where my soul once rested.
My son, your resiliency reminds me
it is okay to bear my chest to pain -
to risk disappointment
for the reward of acceptance and
to get lost
in hopes I find someplace new.

Thank you for picking me
and bringing everything I left
in the stars
down with you.

_______________

I want to spend the rest of my life
smelling of patchouli
and tasting of ginger.
I want to grow a garden of herbs,
fill my shelves with tinctures,
bath in the ghost
of sage and palo santo,
drink coffee in an oversized shirt
on Sunday mornings,
and count the moons as time slows
slows
slows
down.

How cruel it is to be human.
Our most vivid images -
those of happiness
and fulfillment,
regardless how elementary
the concept,
elude existence
while our greatest fears
are played out
day after night
after day. 

_____________________

When the dirt is your easel and the sky is your canvas, the price of your art is measured in madness.

______________

The ultimate death is not a lack of breath, it is a purgatory of stillness in the soul.

___________

I do not know everything about who I am.  I am ever-changing.  I do know, however, who I will never be again.

Bio: My name is Chelsea.  I have written poetry under the alias @Night_Owl_Poesy on instagram for the last year and a half. Writing is one important way I practice self-care.  I am a doctor by day and a secular witch by night.  Yes, we exist.

The Yule Cat by Balder Bloodaxe

The Yule Cat

By Balder Bloodaxe

Soon it will be Yule.  It is a time of feasting and rejoicing.  A time to implore the Gods with Blot and offerings to ensure a bountiful new year.  The weather is crisp and dry. Parties abound. Many make a Julebord for friends and for those less fortunate.  The Others go about and wish each other Joy and Good Will!  

But when I was a kitten of 3 or 4 years, I was told by one of the Elders on the farm that it was also the time of The Yule Cat!  Now, looking back on it, (I am in my 9th year now) I’m not convinced that The Yule Cat is real so much as a scary story used to keep the Little Ones from misbehaving.  But then again, you can never be too careful!

The Yule Cat lives in a cave up in the hills.  And he is ENORMOUS!! Bigger than your house! He has long, sharp teeth and huge, shaggy paws   He is terrible to look upon! His claws are razor sharp and immensely long. A single swipe from one of those paws can sever a full grown person in two!  His tail is strong and can easily smash a car or take down a tree, and if you take a swat from The Yule Cat’s tail … well let’s just say you want to do anything you can to keep that from happening!

But The Yule Cat doesn’t live alone, oh, no!  The Yule Cat is only the pet of the huge, ugly, troll-woman, Gryla and her lazy Jotun husband, Leppaludi.  They all live in the cave together with their mischievous, ne’er-do-well offspring, The Yule Lads. These Evil Beings lurk outside people’s homes in the dark, intent upon taking their Yule dinners, or kidnapping and eating the children!  But not all children. No, only the children who have not received new clothing in time for Yule.  

The Elder used to recite this poem to us as we sat in the barn.  We huddled together in the straw, my Litter Mates and I, in a big jumble in the loft, warm and cozy as The Elder scared us silly:

“He opens his glaring eyes wide,

  The two of them glowing bright,

  His craggy back arched up high,

  Oh, what a terrible sight!

  He roams outside,

  In the freezing Yule snow,

  But his hunger isn’t for mice!

  For if he sees old rags on your feet,

  He’ll gobble you up in a trice!

  But if he sees new socks or shoes,

  When through the window he does peer,

  He’ll go away with a vicious hiss,

  And not come back for a year.”

  

The Elder also told us of the Old Times, back when She was a kitten.  When The One would go hunting for wild boar and The Woman would prepare it with berries that were gathered in the Fall and with grain from the fields, freshly harvested, and fresh milk!  She said that those were the best meals that She ever ate, and that Yule was Her favorite time of the year. I think She was right about that. I love Yule time! I don’t get wild boar on Yule, but I do get freshly smoked ham, cured right there on The Farm.  And it’s prepared in the fashion of the Old Times, with berries and grains, and fresh milk. And as the Sunna rides her chariot over the horizon, and the Yule lights begin to twinkle, I cuddle up with The One, in front of the Yule fire. And I make sure he is wearing new clothes!  Because even though I’m pretty sure that The Yule Cat is just a scary story, meant to frighten kittens, I don’t want to take any chances. I am sworn to protect The One, after all. And … his lap is a very adequate substitute for the straw in the loft. The warmth from the Yule log makes me happy, and while it’s not exactly the same as cuddling with my Litter-Mates in the barn, it’s pretty close.  It makes me purr. And that is very good.  

Good Yule to you and yours!

Copyrighted images © Þórdís Tryggvadóttir

The fragment of poem adapted here is from

The English version of Jóhannes' úr Kötlum 

Poem translated by Vignir Jónsson

The Discovery by Emaleth Summer

The Discovery by Emaleth Summer

It was on my thirteenth birthday that I discovered the place, no coincidence I’m sure. One evening, while walking from the meeting house, I saw her. A great white wolf was standing at the edge of the woods, not quite leaving the shadows of the trees. No one else seemed to notice her, nor did they notice my interest. Without a sound she beckoned me to follow. Of course I could not; the woods were forbidden to us children because of the dangers, and so many were present. I walked on, pretending to see nothing, until I reached my home.

All through supper I sat silent, barely touching my meal in anticipation. My distance was not remarked upon. My parents were used to such melancholy behavior, even on such celebrations. I was the outcast; the child no one played with and everyone thought to be different. Had they truly known, I may not have lived out my childhood in peace.

When it came time to retire, I went to my room as I did any other night. I brushed my hair, climbed onto my straw mat, and laid my head down to rest. As my eyes closed, I beheld a vision; the wolf was calling to me once more, very close now. I rose, threw the window sash, and looked down to see the wolf below me, silver in the light of the full moon. Again she beckoned. This time, I came.

I crept slowly through the hut, careful not to wake my parents. The door always creaked when opened, but this night it was mysteriously silent. It then became clear to me that some higher power wanted me to be in those woods this night. It was an alien thought to me for, up to this point, I had never believed in any God that I had been told of. Yet the words rang true. Someone was calling me, and without a sound.

I followed the wolf through the village, careful to be silent. I carried no torch, as the light would have attracted attention at such an hour, but I could see quite clearly by the light of the full moon. No clouds were in the sky to disrupt this light, and everything the beams touched seemed to be in the light of day. I continued to follow through the field to the edge of the woods. The wolf turned, seeming to assure himself that I still followed. Frightened yet bold, I held my head high and stepped onto the barely visible path.

************

There is nothing like the woods at night. All creatures of the night join their songs to form a beautifully eerie chorus. Moonbeams wind through the trees, casting shadows that take their places on the grassy stage. And when the wind blows through the bushes, the shadows begin their timeless dance. It’s magical.

And it was into this setting that I ventured that night, into the depths of the woods behind my village. By way of a narrow path, formed by a multitude of animals over the years, I found my way to an ancient place forgotten by many. Through the trees I walked, ducking to avoid low hung branches, until at last I came upon my destination: a clearing, calm and peaceful, the largest in all the woods. Even with the wind blowing fiercely throughout the woods, this clearing was untouched. Not an animal stirred, not a branch moved, not a cricket sang. The wolf stopped, turned on me, and then appeared to vanish. I more carefully examined my surroundings.

In the center of this clearing sat a large, flat slab of rock, weathered and polished to a shine by the ages. It rested on two smaller boulders, forming a type of table. And as I drew near, I could begin to make out the carvings on the altar. They were ancient symbols of the Goddess in her three forms, displays of the Lord and Lady throughout the seasons, and marks of the Elements that surround our lives. It was a place of worship and a place of ancient power as well. 

I had seen these symbols once, in an old book I had found beneath the floorboards of our hut. I believed it to be my grandmother’s , but did not show it to anyone. The old religion was banished from this land long ago, and any who was outspoken against the Christian God was banished as well. And so I had held my tongue all these years. Now, as I beheld these symbols, much became clear to me.

As my eyes moved over the stone, I saw that the very book I had just envisioned lay open on the altar. And there, on the other side with her arms raised high in the air, was a very old woman with white hair. She seemed to see me not, yet I knew she was aware of my presence.

Like the breeze, I heard her whisper, “So mote it be.”

She lowered her arms, looked up at me, and spoke at last. “You know not who you are, though it is buried deep within. You know not your power, though it is inside. Let this night show you at last your nature. You are a witch, by heritage and by power. You are my granddaughter, loving and pure. I had hoped to teach you, but my time came too soon. Take this book, that it may guide. Remember this place, that you may gain knowledge and access to the Powers That Be. Your life is yours to live, the power yours to use.”

She seemed to vanish as surely as the wolf. When I turned, the wolf was again at my side, and I knew they were connected. The wolf had led me to her, and carried her message.

I spent the remainder of that night reading through the book. It contained information about the Goddess and the God, the many Sabbats that were part of the religion, and ways to rule the Elements. Walking back to my hut before sunrise, I felt as if I were truly seeing the world around me for the first time. The Goddess, the Elements—they were everywhere, waiting to be acknowledged. 

From that night forth, I have returned to the clearing many a night. I have studied her book of shadows, and learned much. I have traveled the world searching for others, but those tales must wait. But through it all, the great white wolf, whose name I learned was Korin, has been by my side. She has warned me of danger, stopped me from my mistakes, and helped to use my power for good.

Out of the Cauldron:: Bubble Bath

Homemade Bubble Bath

By: Quilycan

Ingredients 1/2 cup Castile soap
1/2 cup vegetable glycerin or coconut oil
2 tablespoons water
Essential Oils (below are my recommendations, but the choice is yours*)
8 drops Lavender 
8 drops Bergamot
2 drops Deity Oil (Ylang-Ylang or Patchouli are popular choices)
4 drops Geranium or Rose 8 oz. pump bottle

Directions

1. In a bowl, mix Castile soap and glycerine.
2. Add essential oils. 
3. Add to a pump bottle. 
4. Gently shake to mix. 
5. To use: Add 10-15 pumps under the water stream as you are filling the tub.

*Note: This recipe is not tear-free and essential oils should ALWAYS be used with caution and care. Supervise children at all times and monitor for rashes, if their skin is unfamiliar with the oils in use.

As I was doing some research on Rites of Passage for this season’s issue, I remembered one of the most basic rites most have gone through as children: Bubble Baths. There was always something so pure and serene about sitting in a warm pool of water surrounded by the soft froth of steaming bubbles. They added joy to what was an otherwise mundane task!

As witches, we are faced with many rites of passage throughout our personal journeys. Whether we have an important ritual to perform, an initiation to be partake of, or some other task at hand, many of us take a “ritual bath” to prepare for the moment. This recipe is a great way to tailor your bath to your Rite of Passage. It can add another layer of magick and mystery to your craft. Enjoy and have fun!

Out of the Cauldron:: Fritatta

by Emily Gabbert

Base:

Eggs 8 each

Milk 1 cup

Salt 1 - 1 ½ tsp

Pepper 1 tsp

Garlic 1 tsp

Cayenne 1 tsp

Filling:

Leeks  2-3 stalks

Rosemary 3-4 sprigs

Goat cheese 4 oz package

Thick cut Bacon (optional) 4 slices
For a 9 in skillet

Note: It is suggested that you use a cast iron skillet, or at least one that has a heavy bottom, and does not have a non-stick coating. If you do not have one of these, a pie pan or appropriately sized baking dish works as well; just add cooked fillings before egg mix.

1. Whisk together eggs, milk, salt, pepper, garlic, and cayenne in a bowl or container and set aside. You can do this ahead of time and store it in the fridge if you’d like.
2. Pre-heat oven to 350 F.
3. If you are using bacon, cut it into medium sized chunks (or sized to your liking) and set aside. 
4. Slice the leeks fairly thin, and set those aside as well.
5. If using fresh (highly recommend this), pull the rosemary off the stems and roughly chop it a few times. Set aside.
6. Put the bacon in your 9 in skillet on med heat with about a teaspoon of oil to slowly cook and render the fat. If not using bacon, skip this step, and use a bit more oil or butter for the next step.
7. When you have a good amount of bacon fat rendered in the pan, but the bacon is still soft, add the sliced leeks and rosemary and turn the heat up to med-high and saute until leeks are soft and bacon is crispy at the edges (or, to your liking).
8. Turn off burner and remove skillet from heat. Pour in the egg mix, and stir slightly to spread the fillings around (not too much or you’ll have scrambled eggs). If using a baking dish or pie pan, scrape contents of skillet into said dish before adding egg mix.
9. Dollop the goat cheese in various spots around the pan, sized to your liking. If you like, you can sprinkle the top with a little paprika for color and extra flavor.
10. Bake at 350 F for about 20-30 minutes, or until set in the middle. 
11. Slice and enjoy!!

Note:: The base will work for any kind of fritatta. You can change the filling to any kind you desire, just remember most things will need to be cooked first. These fillings were chosen to work with the season and holidays covered in this issue. If you want melted cheese on top, let the fritatta be about 3/4 of the way cooked before sprinkling cheese so it will stay atop the eggs.

A Celebration of Cronehood by Jan Kindwoman

by Jan Kindwoman

Some friends, all women of a certain age, had heard about a Crone Ceremony, that sounded to me more like a rebirthing rite, but they wanted to have one for themselves. None were pagans. They were all Hospice workers, and I was the Interfaith Spiritual Counselor there. I volunteered to create a ritual celebrating cronehood for them. I had been a pagan for about 6 years. They were women who got along well: Nurses, a Volunteer Coordinator, and a Bereavement Counselor. One of the women had a house at the edge of Tucson with several acres of desert. She had a fire pit and benches already, so we went there for the ritual. There were about a dozen of us.

The night of the ceremony, we gathered there, and music from On Wings of Song & Robert Gass - Chants of the World “From the Goddess” played in the background as the women arrived. Some of this music was included in the chants later in the ritual. Each woman had brought the things needed for her part in the ritual. We set up the altar, sat around in a circle and chanted, drummed, and lit symbolic candles. Women looked through pages about different world Goddesses that I had copied, and each chose one to be their patroness. The moving part of the evening began when women shared the names of Crones who had mentored and influenced them, and how. Each of us could feel the energy from those women filling the circle. 

When it came time for each of us to share a symbol of our maiden years that we wished to release into the flames, one woman brought out the large scroll that every member of her Friends Community had signed at her wedding. She was now divorced. She passed it around, and we all oohed and aahed at how beautiful it was. When she burned it, there was a collective gasp. Another woman cast a $10 bill into the flames, and declared herself free from devoting her life to just making money. As each woman cast away the youthful misdirection and growth experiences of maidenhood, a palpable lightness came over the group. 

Even though not all the participants were mothers, we all had a symbol of our fruitful years to share, and along with it, our dreams and wishes on paper. These scraps of paper were cast into the flames, to be carried to the Spirit of the Goddess. Hope was tangible in the gathering at that point. Then we shared the symbols of our Cronehood, and our influence as older women of experience and wisdom, each claiming our power. There was a sense of a new respect and appreciation for ourselves and our companion Crones. We ended with each woman invoking her patroness Goddess, and the Goddess within.

At the end of the ritual, I sang “Eyes in the Darkness”, a haunting melody from a tape of Sacred songs. Then we sealed our auras and put out the fire, trooping back to the house for wine, cheese, and other aged spirits. Seven months later, many of these women attended a Solstice Ritual at my home, and my coven was born, lasting ten years.

CRONE CEREMONY

WEAR WHITE, YELLOW, OR GOLD.  BRING AGED CHEESES, WINES, OR SPIRITS TO SHARE.  BRING A SYMBOL OF YOUR OWN WISDOM, A SYMBOL OF YOUR FRUITFUL YEARS, AND A SYMBOL, (TO BE BURNED), OF SOMETHING FROM YOUR MAIDEN YEARS THAT YOU WISH TO DISCARD FROM YOUR LIFE.  BRING A YELLOW AND A RED CANDLE AND CANDLE HOLDERS. BRING A PURPLE CANDLE TO LIGHT IN REMEMBRANCE OF A CRONE WHO HAS INFLUENCED YOUR LIFE AND IS NO LONGER WITH YOU. BRING A DRUM OR MARACAS, IF YOU HAVE THEM. THERE WILL BE INSTRUMENTS AVAILABLE. BRING A PILLOW TO SIT ON, IF YOU LIKE. THERE WILL ALSO BE BENCHES. 

PREPARATION:  SETTING UP THE SPACE AND ALTAR WITH INCENSE, CANDLES, MAIDEN GODDESS FIGURE, BOWLS OF OIL AND SALT, AND THE SYMBOLS OF FRUITFULNESS, WISDOM AND CHANGE FOR EACH “WOMBAN”.

ANOINTING WITH SACRED HEALING OIL  

LIGHTING THE FIRE AND CALLING THE POWERS FOR GOOD

OPENING: DRUMMING AND CHANTING

“EARTH MY BODY, WATER MY BLOOD, AIR MY BREATH AND FIRE MY SPIRIT.” (from Earth Dance Celebrates Songs of the Sacred Wheel tape- Writer unknown)

“MOWTAY, LEHNU LEHNU, GOWTAY, HAEENO, HAEENO, HAEENO." (“THE SPIRIT AND I ARE ONE FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER,”) (from A Circle is Cast- Libana; Traditional Native.American.)

“WE ALL COME FROM THE GODDESS, AND TO HER WE SHALL RETURN,

LIKE A DROP OF RAIN, FLOWING TO THE OCEAN. (Z. Budapest)

“ISIS, ASTARTE, DIANA, HECATE, DEMETER, KALI, INANNA.”(Deena Metzger/Caitlin Mullin)

“GODDESS IS ALIVE.  MAGICK IS AFOOT”(Buffy St. Marie)

(THESE LAST THREE CAN BE SUNG AS A ROUND)

CEREMONY: LIGHT INCENSE AND CIRCLE AREA WITH SALT

RITUAL OF CHANGE:  WE LIGHT THE RED CANDLE FOR THE BLEEDING THAT IS GONE, FOR THE CHILDREN AND PROJECTS THAT WERE CRADLED IN THE BLOOD-BED OF OUR WOMBS, FOR THE BLOOMING OF OUR “WOMBANHOOD”, AND FOR AN END TO LIVING ONLY TO NURTURE OTHERS.

PRIESTESS: “I RELEASE YOU”, SAYS THE GODDESS OF THE RED.  “I ACCEPT YOU”, SAYS THE GODDESS OF THE YELLOW. “YOU SHALL GROW IN MY WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE.  YOU SHALL BEAR SPIRITUAL AND SAGE FRUIT, AND THE BRILLIANCE OF YOUR DISCERNMENT SHALL BE A BEACON TO YOUR YOUNGER SISTERS.  NOW IS THE TIME WHEN DREAMS WILL BE BROUGHT INTO BEING FROM YOUR FALLOW WOMB TO ENRICH YOUR LIFE AND OTHERS”.

WE LIGHT THE YELLOW CANDLE FOR THE RELEASE FROM THE FLOODS, FOR THE BLOSSOMING OF OUR SKILLS, FOR THIS CIRCLE OF FRIENDSHIP, AND FOR OUR GATHERING WISDOM.

WE REJOICE IN OUR EMPTY WOMBS WHICH BECOME SYMBOLS OF THE HOLY GRAIL:  CHALICES OPEN TO THE POURING OF SPIRIT AND WISDOM INTO THEM FOR THE BLESSING OF ALL.  WE EMBRACE THE DARKNESS AS REPRESENTATIVE OF THE FECUNDITY OF THE WOMB, AND WE ACCEPT OUR OWN DEATHS, AS INEVITABLE, AND A PART OF LIFE.  YET WE AFFIRM THE ETERNAL NATURE OF THE SOUL, AND KNOW THAT WE WILL ALL BE TOGETHER ONE DAY IN THE COMPLETENESS OF THE GODDESS.

WE LIGHT THE PURPLE CANDLE FOR THE CRONES WHO TAUGHT AND MENTORED US, THAT THEIR MEMORY MAY REMAIN. (EACH PARTICIPANT NAMES THE CRONE THEY REMEMBER.)

- CHOOSING A PATRONESS GODDESS FOR CRONEHOOD

- SHARING MAIDEN SYMBOLS AND CASTING THEM INTO THE FIRE

- SHARING MOTHER SYMBOLS AND MAKING WISHES

- SHARING CRONE SYMBOLS AND CLAIMING OUR POWER

CLOSING: INVOKING OUR PATRONESS GODDESSES AND THE GODDESS WITHIN EACH OF US.

SONG: “I SEE THE LIGHT. I SEE THE LIGHT. I SEE THE LIGHT IN THE DEPTH OF YOUR SOUL. I SEE EYES THAT SPARKLE IN THE DARKNESS, LIGHTING THE WAY FOR ME, LIGHTING THE WAY FOR ME. I SEE THE LIGHT….” (by Caitlin Christoffel, from Earth Dance Celebrates Songs of the Sacred Wheel)

GROUNDING VISUALIZATION AND SEALING OUR AURAS

CLEARING THE ALTAR AND THE SPACE- THANKING THE POWERS

REFRESHING OURSELVES WITH AGED WINE AND DRINK

MERRY MEET AND MERRY PART AND MERRY MEET AGAIN! (This was not a full-fledged cast circle, since these women were new to Paganism.)

Jan Kindwoman: I was a mainline church parish minister for 25 years. I left the church, and became a Chaplain and a solitary Pagan, studying many resources, especially Z. Budapest’s Dianic Wicca writings. I was Priestess of a Dianic Coven, and have practiced for 23+ years.