Mabon (Fall Equinox) and Full Moon Ritual Pagan Student Alliance September 20th, 2002 Ritual Outline Quarter Calls Dramatic Introduction of Themes Sensory-Integrated Guide Meditation Speech will stop. Pair up with someone to share balanced energies. Explore space balances, sound balances, etc. Pairs group with other pairs and explore balance with more people. Eventually form a circle. Yarn will be thrown about the circle. When you catch yarn, hold on to it and throw the ball to another person. "Cakes" and "Wine" Quarter Dismissals * Quarter Calls * East: Guardians of the Watchtowers of the East, The element of Air, essence of knowledge, And the Archangel Raphael, the Healer; We call upon you to be with us this night, To aid our work at this time of balance. Be here now! South: Guardians of the Watchtowers of the South, The element of Fire, essence of passion, And the Archangel Michael (MICK-aye-el), the Protector; We call upon you to be with us this night, To aid our work at this time of balance. Be here now! West: Guardians of the Watchtowers of the West, The element of Water, essence of emotion, And the Archangel Gabriel (GAY-bri-el), the Renewer; We call upon you to be with us this night, To aid our work at this time of balance. Be here now! North: Guardians of the Watchtowers of the North, The element of Earth, essence of wisdom, And the Archangel Uriel, the Magician; We call upon you to be with us this night, To aid our work at this time of balance. Be here now! God and Goddess: Lord and Lady, Goddess and God, Creators and protectors of that is, and all that is not, We seek you guidance in our work this night, so that we may better ourselves for the good of all. Be here now! * Themes * DAY and NIGHT stand opposite each other in a circle and spiral inwards, both deosil, as they speak, meeting in the middle, arms linked, facing outward. DAY: I am day! NIGHT: I am night! DAY: I am summer! NIGHT: I am winter! DAY: I am the warm sun. NIGHT: I am the cold moon. DAY: The blooming flowers. NIGHT: The dead grass. DAY: The bright light. NIGHT: The dim light. DAY: The cool shade. NIGHT: The eerie shadows. DAY: I am the time to rejoice. NIGHT: I am the time to sacrifice. DAY: I am the world above. NIGHT: I am the world below. DAY: We come together this day, NIGHT: As one. Yin DAY: and yang. Day NIGHT: and night. Winter DAY: and summer. NIGHT: We stand in balance, DAY: On this fall equinox -- NIGHT: Polarities meeting, DAY: Opposites attracting. NIGHT: It is a time of harvest, DAY: When we take in what we have grown in the summer NIGHT: And make preserves for the winter. DAY: Let us rejoice at our gifts NIGHT: And put away what we won't need. DAY: It is a time NIGHT: To reflect DAY: On balance NIGHT: In our relationships, DAY: In our actions, NIGHT: In our world, DAY: In our lives, NIGHT: In ourselves. DAY: Our school lives are given new life NIGHT: As the Earth's coat dies. DAY: The goddess prepares to change her flower dresses NIGHT: For orange and brown sweaters, DAY: While the god's horns have grown large NIGHT: As he fights for the right to pass himself on. DAY: An egg stands on end, NIGHT: Libra begins, DAY and NIGHT: As day and night match their workshifts. DAY: Bury these seeds of rumination in your hearts. NIGHT:That they may grow e'en in the dead of winter. * Sensory-Integrated Meditation * Summer Day: You open your eyes, and find yourself in a vast, golden prairie, stretching to every horizon around you under a cloudless, sapphire-blue sky. Your back is to the sun high in the west, and your view is clear of the astonishing place. A gentle, warm wind blows through your hair, and carries with it the scents of the millions of flowers that you can see scattered across untold acres of grassland. Take a moment to appreciate the beauty of this scene...flowers of every color in the rainbow stretch over this sunlit praire like whitecaps on an ocean, and the sky seems to go on forever... ...A soft rustling sound by your feet attracts you attention, and you look down to see a small green lizard scurry past you on his mysterious business, vanishing into the tall grass behind you. With your amazement at the immensity of the praire broken, you realize that the area immediately around you bustles with life. The lizard continues to make small noises in the grass as he moves on, and all around you, unnoticed until now, is a praire dog colony. The little creatures run about, chasing each other without a care in the world, playing together without the least disturbance at your presence. They run in and out of holes and and gullies, chittering madly in high voices, sounding almost like laughing children. This play continues for some while, and you come to feel their joy in being alive, as if you, too, have no concerns but the next chase, the next game of tag. Suddenly, one of them chirps in alarm, and a shadow flashes across the landscape. Startled, you look up, and see a hawk winging through the air high above you and you small friends. For a moment you worry that the raptor will swoop down on the colony, but as the hawk circles and twists in the air, it becomes clear that she is not hunting...like the praire dogs, she is but enjoying a sun filled summer day, filled with the joy of living. Even as you think this, her harsh cry reaches you, and you feel her fierce joy in flying as her call echoes across the gentle, rolling hills. As you watch her, she explores the entire sky, at times flying so high that you can hardly see her, and at other times so low that you must duck, and feel the wind as her outstretched wings miss your head by inches. Finally, with one lat exultant cry, she wings away to the east, towards a small bank of dark clouds on the horizon that you hadn't seen before. As the hawk vanishes in the dstance, the clouds tower higher and higher on the horizon even as you watch, and you soon precieve that they flash with lighting, and low thunder reaches your ears. The breeze, which has ruffled your hair and clothing since your arrival, grows cooler and carries the scent of rain. The praire dogs, who had resumed their play with the dissappearance of the hawk, now stop once more to find shelter in their community burrows. The storm is coming, and it is time to go. You close your eyes... Summer Night: After a hot day of hard work, evening comes. You pack a picnic basket and walk for the hills. The smells of a dozen barbecues titilate your nose. Drummers in the park sway your hips on your westward journey.The sun is less intense, you no longer sweat just by standing. A blanket spread on the tall grass, you eat wth your lover as the town below lights up. You breathe deeply, filling your lungs with sweet mountain air, seasoned faintly by a forest fire from afar. Taste the sweet fresh strawberries, smell the blooming flowers, closing for the night. You hold a swig of mead on your tongue until it tingles too intensely. Swallowing it, your chest feels so warm, your head feels light. The chandaliers twinkle on the ceiling of the celestial ballroom. You and your lover dance barefoot in the grass. Your feet dig into the mud, the dry grass tickles your legs. You embrace and kiss, taking in the sweet and pungent odors of your love. That taste unique to each person's tongue. It is late as you walk through the trees back to town. You smile as a fox darts from bush to bush. It's hard to see much, so you tune your ears to the sounds of nature, your nose takes in the odors of night. The crickets chirp and you mentally count the temperature -- still 90 degrees! But spray from the creek makes the air pleasantly cool. It's late, but the town is alive. Cheers rise as street performers juggle fire. People laugh from pub patios, sirens whir in the distance. You walk home through sleeping suburbia. You hear the steps of your own feet. You feel the comfort and pleasure of your lover's soft hand. Late to bed, the bliss of a summer night ends with silky sheets gliding along your bare flesh. Winter Day: You open your eyes, and find yourself on a rocky shore by a black sea, under a cloudy, grey sky. Massive, snow-capped mountains tower above you, seemingly right next to the show. Your breath mists in the air, and you shiver in the biting cold. You stand or a moment, slapping your arms to warm them, watching the calm ocean under the clouds. The water is as smooth as glass, and reflects the sky above with perfect detail; a black mirror. Facinated, you step forward towards the edge of the water, careful of you footing as you step across rocks as large as your head. You reach the water's edge, and look down into the water; you see your reflection darkly in the water, without so much as a ripple to disturb it. Consider what you see for a time; truly LOOK at yourself... ...as you pull your gaze away from the compelling image in the water, the clouds break, and the sun emerges, surpriseing you with it's warmth on such a cold day. Your shivering stops completely as the sun bathes you in light, not as hot as you remember from the summer, but warming nontheless. You scan to lanscape around you; the calm ocean where you just recently saw yourself, the rocky shore on which you stand, and the mountains abouve you, blocking you view of anything beyond. All is quiet and barren; the small, stunted trees lining the back edge of the shore are leafless, naked, and the mountains are silent beneath their blankets of snow. Everywhere there is a sense of waiting, the day is quiet and cold here, but it will not always be so. Here, it is a time for rest, reflection, and quiet growth. You sense that it is time to leave this cold sea behind, and you close your eyes... Winter Night: It's already dark as you trudge home through the snow, ice, and slush. You hear the clunk of the bus's chained tires as it drives off, the crunch of snow under your boots. You grab a shovel and clear your sidewalk, fighting the eternal battle with snow and ice impediments. The cold bites your nose, turns your breath to ice. But your torso is hot, you're sweating as you exert under your coat. You shake off the snow and come inside. A dozen sweet cooked aromas assault your red nose as you peel off your boots. Seasoned meats, baked potatoes, and is that an apple pie? Your lover gives you a wonderfully warm mug of spiced cider as you peel off your drenched socks and slip into your slippers. You sit by the crackling fire and tell stories of your day and fill your chest with warm cider. The drink causes warmth to radiate from within you as the fire dries you from without. You sit down to a feast on the table full of earthy and sweet aromas. Layered in sweaters you spin tales with your lover as chess pieces click on the board. A cat rubs your leg and purrs, appreciating the warmth and softness of your pants just as much as you do. Putting on a 40s big band record, you curl up with your lover on the couch. You share warmth, softness, secrets, scents, and tastes. Your heart radiates love, just as warming as cider. Retiring for the night you fall asleep with a smile on your face, wrapped in a cocoon of wool blankets and flannel P.J.'s. Autumn Day: You open your eyes, and find yourself sitting beside a mountain stream, bubbling across rocks beneath trees sheathed in red and gold leaves. Everywhere you look, there is incredible color. It stretches in all directions through the endless forest, across the large hills that dot the canopy as far as you can see. The woods are noisy with live, as animals seek burrows and stock larders for the coming cold. A raccoon, an early riser, comes to the creek across from you and calmly washes a bit of fruit in the clear water. Above you, squirrels chitter at each other, disputing ownership of dens and food in a friendly banter. And yet you know that this festival of color and life is the last, weary sigh of summer; life shows none of the lazy ease of summer, and the air carries some of the bite of winter, even as the scents of summer linger on the wind. The world is poised in balance, light with dark, summer with winter, warm with cold. Take a moment to ponder this, the balance of all things at the cusp of the seasons... ...and now, look about one last time, at the color, the life, that sorrounds this little mountain stream. Then, you close your eyes... Autumn Night: The sun warmed you today, but now it's getting chilly as the sun sets. Your efforts to read on a rock are thwarted by darkness, so you don your windbreaker and dismount the granite. You take a deep breath of feed lot-flavored air. "Ah, Greeley. It'll snow tomorrow." On your way home you trudge in circles through dry leaves scattered 'neath groves. The slough and crinkle bring a smile to your lips as your ears tune into being a child in fall. You run your hand along the tree's bark in sign of thanks, its rough and bumps reassure you the tree will survive the coming cold. It's got a good winter coat. You stop by the store to pick up some preserves. Squash are in season now. And, of course, so are chocolate bars. Walking home you overhear a dozen conversations between friends on the sidewalks. It's neither too hot nor too cold -- you barely notice the temperature. It's a late night of study. The smell of coffee, the feel of keys, the sound of pages turning. You talk to your lover on the phone -- the prospect of time together tomorrow evening gives you the motivation you need to finish your paper. You crawl into bed well past midnight, the prospect of an early morning makes you groan as you curl up in your blanket. But such is the nature of studenthood -- you work hard in the fall so you can have fun in the summer and winter. A balance of seasons, a local maximum of work.