Widdershins

Everything In Between

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“Together the magicks swirled and danced around us, invisible but tangible, like an breeze. This wasn’t defensive or offensive magic. It wasn’t used to gather information, for strategy or diplomacy, or to fight a war against supernatural enemy.

It simply was.

It was fundamental, inexorable. It was nothing and everything, infinity and oblivion, from the magnificent furnace of a star to the electrons that hummed in an atom. It was life and death and everything in between, the urge to fight and grow and swim and fly. It was a cascade of water across boulders, the slow-moving advance of mountain glaciers, the march of time.”

Chloe Neill, Wild Things

In Our Bones

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We locked up our wisdom into our bones
And swallowed the keys
They sank in our rivers of blood
And we forgot the maps
Because we had to forget the mysteries
To keep them safe.
We wove our hair into brooms
And swept over our paths
And then burned the earth with our rage
We didn’t teach our children
It was the only way to protect them,
we thought
But in them we planted seeds, seeds and keys
And told them stories and riddles and songs
With no roots, just tangled threads
That would take years to unwind
Just enough time
For the rains to fall again
And put out the fires
For the dams to break
For the rivers to flood
For the paths to be walked again
For the soil to breathe
And as the old bones crumble
Deep beneath the rubble
We find we’ve always had the keys
Our stories and our maps
Our paths are revealed to some
And the seeds grow again
The threads are unspun
And woven again

Attributions:

Winds Four Quarters

Winds Four Quarters is from the short story Swordsworn in Sword and Sorceress 3 edited by Marion Zimmerman Bradley. It is especially appropriate to be played and sung on the 16th and 17th of January. This was an ancient Greek festival in which offerings were made to the Wind Gods of the eight directions.

Here are the Lyrics:

Wind’s four quarters:
Air and fire
Earth and water
Hear my desire

Grant my plea
Who stands alone
Maid and Warrior
Mother and Crone

Eastern wind blow
Clear blow clean
Cleanse my body
Of it’s pain

Cleanse my mind of
What I’ve seen
Cleanse my honor
Of it’s stain

Maid whose love
Has never ceased
Bring me healing
From the East

Southern wind blow
Hot blow hard
Fan my courage
To a flame

Southern wind be
Guide and guard
Add your bravery
To my name

Let my will
And yours be twined
Warrior of
The southern wind

Wind’s four quarters:
Air and fire
Earth and water
Hear my desire

Grant my plea
Who stands alone
Maid and Warrior
Mother and Crone

Western wind blow
Stark blow strong
Grant me arm and
Mind of steel

Let our own both
Caught and long
Mother hear me
Where I kneel

Let no weakness
On my quest
Hinder me,
Wind of the West

[Music]

Northern wind blow
Cruel blow cold
Sheave my aching
Heart in ice

All around my
Soul enfold
Crone I need not
Call you twice

To my foes bring
Cold of death
Chill me north winds
Frozen breath

Wind’s four quarters:
Air and fire
Earth and water
Hear my desire

Grant my plea
Who stands alone
Maid and Warrior
Mother and Crone

Maid and warrior
Mother and Crone

From the album: Magic, Moondust, & Melancholy

Snowflake

Snowflake is a Slavonic story from Andrew Lang’s The Pink Fairy Book, published in 1897. This Russian folktale is closely associated with the Russian Christmas which is traditionally celebrated on Jan 6, and also with St John’s Day celebrated on June 24.

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Once upon a time there lived a peasant called Ivan, and he had a wife whose name was Marie. They would have been quite happy except for one thing: they had no children to play with, and as they were now old people they did not find that watching the children of their neighbours at all made up to them for having one of their own.

One winter, which nobody living will ever forget, the snow lay so deep that it came up to the knees of even the tallest man. When it had all fallen, and the sun was shining again, the children ran out into the street to play, and the old man and his wife sat at their window and gazed at them. The children first made a sort of little terrace, and stamped it hard and firm, and then they began to make a snow woman. Ivan and Marie watched them, the while thinking about many things.

Suddenly Ivan’s face brightened, and, looking at his wife, he said, ‘Wife, why shouldn’t we make a snow woman too?’

‘Why not?’ replied Marie, who happened to be in a very good temper; ‘it might amuse us a little. But there is no use making a woman. Let us make a little snow child, and pretend it is a living one.’

‘Yes, let us do that,’ said Ivan, and he took down his cap and went into the garden with his old wife.

Then the two set to work with all their might to make a doll out of the snow. They shaped a little body and two little hands and two little feet. On top of all they placed a ball of snow, out of which the head was to be.

‘What in the world are you doing?’ asked a passer-by.

‘Can’t you guess?’ returned Ivan.

‘Making a snow-child,’ replied Marie.

They had finished the nose and the chin. Two holes were left for the eyes, and Ivan carefully shaped out the mouth. No sooner had he done so than he felt a warm breath upon his cheek. He started back in surprise and looked–and behold! the eyes of the child met his, and its lips, which were as red as raspberries, smiled at him!

‘What is it?’ cried Ivan, crossing himself. ‘Am I mad, or is the thing bewitched?’

The snow-child bent its head as if it had been really alive. It moved its little arms and its little legs in the snow that lay about it just as the living children did theirs.

‘Ah! Ivan, Ivan,’ exclaimed Marie, trembling with joy, ‘heaven has sent us a child at last!’ And she threw herself upon Snowflake (for that was the snow-child’s name) and covered her with kisses. And the loose snow fell away from Snowflake as an egg shell does from an egg, and it was a little girl whom Marie held in her arms.

‘Oh! my darling Snowflake!’ cried the old woman, and led her into the cottage.

And Snowflake grew fast; each hour as well as each day made a difference, and every day she became more and more beautiful. The old couple hardly knew how to contain themselves for joy, and thought of nothing else. The cottage was always full of village children, for they amused Snowflake, and there was nothing in the world they would not have done to amuse her. She was their doll, and they were continually inventing new dresses for her, and teaching her songs or playing with her.

Nobody knew how clever she was! She noticed everything, and could learn a lesson in a moment. Anyone would have taken her for thirteen at least! And, besides all that, she was so good and obedient; and so pretty, too! Her skin was as white as snow, her eyes as blue as forget-me-nots, and her hair was long and golden. Only her cheeks had no colour in them, but were as fair as her forehead.

So the winter went on, till at last the spring sun mounted higher in the heavens and began to warm the earth. The grass grew green in the fields, and high in the air the larks were heard singing. The village girls met and danced in a ring, singing, ‘Beautiful spring, how came you here? How came you here? Did you come on a plough, or was it a harrow?’ Only Snowflake sat quite still by the window of the cottage. Continue reading

Keeping Quiet

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Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.

Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

~ By Pablo Neruda
~ from Extravagaria

Solstice Story

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There was the snow, and the snow fell from the heavens, slowly, thoughtful and deliberate, silent contemplation of a million spirits, crystalline and filled with logic, diversity infinite, and yet, each one did come to bless the child.

There was the night, and she was quiet, she was holy, as all nights are, and even when the nights were dancing, loud and full of whirling stars and northern lights performed for all to see or no-one there at all, and winds rush treetops and they tell their tales of night, of all the nights, and know so much, foreshadow even more …

There was the lake, and it was frozen deep and mirror smooth and mirror still, slow water, sleeping water, perhaps it dreams of spring or it may simply rest and think, and gather wisdom of each other, and of time …

There was a thought, a very special wind arose and it could only be right here, right now, and it came softly, lightly, it exhaled the finest mist of white, creates the forms and functions, sculptures in a living dance, they flow and they touch everything, reach into everything, make the connections, make something new, now hush and listen, for the time of magic is upon us, it is nearly here …

There was the child, it stepped in light and whitest shine into this night, and here, the snow did kiss its face, did kiss its hair, and laid itself beneath its feet to be a carpet, be a path, a path that leads in all directions, where you walk, there it becomes.

The night began to sing, so quietly, so full of admiration; the stars awoke and paid attention, sent their light and love to touch the child; the lake became the mirror for it all as now the wind did breathe the future into being and then the child began to smile – his welcome was the holiness, and holiness did enter into all the land touched by his light, it filled the world with hope, with beauty of a different order, the new, the unexpected, a newborn star of purest light.

And there I was, and there were you, and always, ever, always new, there is the snow for us, there is the night, there is the lake, there is wind, and always new, there is the child.

Source: SFX Solstice 2009

The Twelve Days of Yule

 

The following is a variation on the famous song about the twelve Days of Christmas from Scotland.

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Gather a few friends around the fire. Have one of them say or sing the first verse aloud. Then have everyone repeat it, the same with the next verse and so on. As the verses get longer, whoever makes a slip in repeating the lines pays a forfeit – any small object they may possess such as a candy or a nut.

(Note also the 13th day of Yule – a sure sign of an ancient origin.)

The Days of Yule

The King sent his lady on the first Yule day
A papingo-aye (exotic parrot).
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The king sent his lady on the second Yule day
Three partricks (partridges), a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The king sent his lady on the third Yule day
Three plovers, three partricks, a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The king sent his lady on the fourth Yule day
A goose that was grey
Three plovers, three partricks, a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The king sent his lady on the fifth Yule day
Three starlings, a goose that was grey
Three plovers, three partricks, a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The king sent his lady on the sixth Yule day
Three goldspinks, three starlings,
a goose that was grey
Three plovers, three partricks, a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The king sent his lady on the seventh Yule day
A bull that was brown, three goldspinks
Three starlings, a goose that was grey
Three plovers, three partricks, a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The king sent his lady on the eighth Yule day
Three ducks a merry laying
A bull that was brown, three goldspinks
Three starlings, a goose that was grey
Three plovers, three partricks, a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The king sent his lady on the ninth Yule day
Three swans a-merry swimming,
Three ducks a merry laying
A bull that was brown, three goldspinks
Three starlings, a goose that was grey
Three plovers, three partricks, a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The king sent his lady on the tenth Yule day
An Arabian baboon,
Three swans a-merry swimming,
Three ducks a merry laying
A bull that was brown, three goldspinks
Three starlings, a goose that was grey
Three plovers, three partricks, a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The King sent his lady on the eleventh Yule day
Three hinds a-merry hunting,
An Arabian baboon,
Three swans a-merry swimming,
Three ducks a merry laying
A bull that was brown, three goldspinks
Three starlings, a goose that was grey
Three plovers, three partricks, a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The King sent his lady on the twelfth Yule day
Three maids a-merry dancing,
Three hinds a-merry hunting, An Arabian baboon,
Three swans a-merry swimming,
Three ducks a merry laying
A bull that was brown, three goldspinks
Three starlings, a goose that was grey
Three plovers, three partricks, a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

The King sent his lady on the thirteenth Yule day
Three stalks a-merry corn,
Three maids a-merry dancing,
Three hinds a-merry hunting, An Arabian baboon,
Three swans a-merry swimming,
Three ducks a merry laying
A bull that was brown, three goldspinks
Three starlings, a goose that was grey
Three plovers, three partricks, a papingo-aye.
Who learns my carol and carries it away?

From: The Winter Solstice

Winter Solstice Song for Yule


LYRICS:

On the longest night we search for the light,
And we find it deep within.
Open your eyes to embrace what is wise,
And see the light of your own soul shining.

(Chorus)

Wrap up in the cloak of starry darkness my child,
And you’ll find the center of all things.
For from this space of the deepest dark place,
Life Eternal does spring.

(Chorus)

So when you find that spark
When you dream in the dark,
Hold it close to your heart and know.
All that you see is all that can be
When you give birth to the dreams of your soul.

Chorus:
Enter the night and you’ll find the light,
That will carry you to your dreams.
Enter the night, let your spirit take flight,
In the field of infinite possibilities

Music by Lisa Thiel

A Winter Solstice Story for Children

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A group of little Faeries huddled in their home deep under the roots of a giant oak tree. They were safe and snug in their tiny underground cave lined with dandelion fluff, bird feathers, and dried moss.

Outside, the wind blew cold and the snow fell softly down to cover the ground. “I saw the Sun King today,” the faerie named Rose said as she pulled her mossy cloak tighter about her. “He looked so old and tired as he walked off through the forest. What is wrong with him?

“The great oak said he’s dying” answered Daffodil.

“Dying? Oh, what will we do now?”, Little Meadow Grass started to cry, “If the Sun King dies, our little plant friends will not grow. The Birds will not come and sing again. Everything will be winter for ever!” Lilac, Dandelion and Elder Blossom tried to comfort their friend, but they were all very sad. As they huddled together, there was a knock on the tiny door.

“Open up, Faeries,” called out a loud voice. “Why are you hiding instead of joining us in our Solstice celebration?” Rose opened the door and the little gnome Brown Knobby pushed inside, shaking the glistening snowflakes off his brown coat and hat.

“We are too sad to celebrate,” Daffodil said wiping her eyes, “The Sun King is dying, haven’t you heard?”

“He is dead you silly Faeries.” Brown Knobby’s round dark eyes sparkled with laughter. “Now hurry, or we’ll be late for the celebration!”

“How can you be happy and laughing?!” Elder Blossom stamped her little foot and frowned at the gnome. “If the Sun King IS dead, it will be winter always. We will never see the Sun again!”

“Silly little child-Faeries.” Brown Knobby grabbed Dandelion by the hand and pulled her to her feet. “There is a secret to the Winter Solstice. Don’t you want to know what it is?”

Continue reading

‘Twas the night before Yule

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‘Twas the night before Yule, and all through the Coven,
The cookies were baked and removed from the oven.
The bayberry candles were lit on the table,
The altar was wrapped in a new cloth of sable.

The children were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of Yuletime danced in their heads.
Their stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that some presents soon would be there!

With Rocker in his new robe, and I in mine,
We were asking our Goddess her blessing divine.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from our Circle to see what was the matter.

Away to the window, tripping over my sash,
My eyes were a-glamoured with a bright silver flash.
The moon on the breasts of the Goddess and God
Drew my eyes to behold the blessed Circle they trod.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But the manifestations of all those we hold Dear.
The physical forms of those whom we pray to,
Even Saint Nick, and his miniature sleigh, too!

Jehovah, Mohammet, Shiva, Hera and Thor.
Zeus, Freya, Brahma, and many, many more.
All the Spiritual Entities who’d ever been mentioned.
Even some, like dear Loki, who sowed seeds of dissension.

They greeted each other with smile, warm and sweet.
Then, forming a Circle, they all took a seat.
With multiple Voices all joined as One,
The Corners were Called. And, when that was done.

The Chalice was passed from Hand to Hand.
Then, a blanket of silence enfolded the land.
A crystal clear Voice began to hold sway.
Which Deity spoke? I could not say.

But, clearly, I heard all the love in that Voice.
It caused my tired heart to take flight and rejoice.
“Our Children, it seems, have missed the whole point.
“We now join together, their hearts to anoint.

“Pour all of Our love O’er their hearts of stone.
“Let them see that together they’re never alone!
“Show them it matters not which of Us that they choose.
“Their sad hate and mistrust cause each of Us to lose!”

As I stood there transfixed, I could suddenly see
If we all stand as one, what a world this could be!
Put ALL of our differences well behind us.
Let the love of the Gods enfold and remind us.

We ARE all the same,though varied our skins.
We all dream the same dreams, we all sin the same sins.
With a look of enlightenment etched on my face,
I beheld all the Gods in Their glory and grace!

They all bowed Their heads then said”So mote it be!”
They all smiled at each Other bestowing winks on me.
One by One they disappeared from my sight.
Just the Goddess and God were left in the light.

As slowly They twinkled, fading by degree,
“Happy Yuletide to all!!
Blessed be times three!”

~Written by Mary, a.k.a. Wandering Poet, a.k.a.littlebit~

Permission to reprint granted to all who keep keep this credit line by the author

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