The Season of the Hag

Your God has left you, and your Mother Goddess, too, has her own child in her, and her own concerns.

For the season to come, you are left in my care, and things are going to be a little different.

Do not come to me for food, or shelter, or comfort, for these I have no power to give.

I have no power to save you, from anything at all.

But I am the shadow that will never leave you, the sum of all that you truly know.

Be still and listen, and you will hear me speak.

For this time, shelter, comfort, feed and save yourselves and each other, as best you can.

My season is no more eternal than any season.

The world will grow bright again.

Your Lady return to you a bright maiden,

Your God will come as a newborn child.

Until that day be still, wait, listen, take care.

The Blood Moon

The full moon that follows the Fall Equinox is called the Blood Moon. This year they fell over each other, I don't know which came first, and I am a bit behindhand for both.

The grain harvest done, the harvest of blood begins. In the old days, this was to choose the breeding stock to feed through the winter, and kill and salt down the rest.

The tide now is one for setting priorities, and making hard choices.

At Mabon we hold a feast with grain, no meat, for the killing time has not yet begun. With the Blood Moon, the eating of meat begins.

There is a traditional prayer for meat, to honor the animals that feed us:

By the Power that slays you, I too will be slain,

And I too will be consumed.

The law which delivers you until my hands

Will deliver me unto other hands.

My blood and your blood run together

In the sap that feeds the tree of life.

Life comes from Life, and mine from yours.

May my life be worthy of your death.

Fall Equinox: The Grain Harvest

Breath and spark of life, Sun born in darkness,

Who brought light and fire to the land;

Who warmed the Maiden and danced with Her,

Leading Her to Motherhood of all;

The King we crowned on a summer’s day

As he rose to his throne in the sky;

All that He gave Her, she brings forth many-fold.

That we and our children and our children’s children

May take their gifts and go forward, beyond the farthest hill, across the farthest sea,

Even to the stars.

Now His fires are burning low and what light He has grows feeble.

There is more power in the bread than there is in Him,

And when we have eaten of it, He will be gone.

The fields are bare, it is almost time for Him to go.

Together They celebrate the Gift of Life, one last time.

from Dyffd ap Tower