Waiting on the Sun

Brandon Sheehan - December 21, 149

It was late December when I traveled to Section 4, tugging a small cart along. It was filled with the overnight items Renee had told me to bring: blankets, pillows, eye shades and ear plugs, as well as a set of picnicware. I wasn't clear on why I would spend an entire night on grass and dirt, but she could have asked me to bring the moon, and I still would have said yes. I would be spending it with the people I was happiest with.

A lot had happened in three months. Since meeting her at Pesci-Fest, Renee and I had begun spending time together at least once a week and talking regularly. Our calls were usually quick, a simple hello and check-in, but sometimes we talked longer, especially on nights neither of us wanted to be alone. Alex and I had gone on several outings, taking turns choosing an activity. The last time I saw her was at an aural concert over a month before, and while she had told me she would be extremely busy for an extended period, I hadn't realized it meant no communication. I didn't understand why part of me felt empty; we were just friends.

Kevin and I had also been meeting occasionally for a meal or other activity. I hadn't explored deep friendships with others as an adult, and I found myself enjoying the process of finding shared interests to build a true friendship. The last time I had seen him was in early December. Our dinner together had been enjoyable if a trifle strange.

We met at his favorite pierogi co-op in Section 3. When I walked in, I noticed the walls right away. They were patterned in green leaves on a light background with a foreground of curved lines of multi-colored lights. I was reminded of pots holding pine and cedar trees occasionally appearing on our culinary floor. The trees were special, strung with spheres of colors blazing out of the green, all wrapped in strings of light. I remember when I was a child, my family chose to eat our meals outside when the trees were out, reveling in the scents of the forest and enjoying the novelty of watching the trees sparkle, all scattered along the greenway separating the Eateries from the counters. They appeared infrequently, and I hadn't seen them for a long time.

Kevin came in shortly after I did, joining me at my table, and we ordered a double combination platter. Once our food arrived, I saw a variety of small wrapped dumplings in front of me, some filled with proteins, others with vegetables and still others crammed full of fruit and cream cheese fillings. I followed Kevin's lead and spooned some sour cream and fried onions onto a savory mushroom pierogi. It was excellent, and I was excited to try the rest.

After we had each eaten a few, Kevin finally spoke. "I'm missing Ally myself, you know. Even though all the habitats are time-synced, she spends even more time on these listening tours than when we had satellites. It's all video transfers now," he confided. "She can't watch and respond to every video, but I think she would if it were humanly possible. Each tour lasts a month, and she schedules two a year. I don't see much of her when it happens, and I'm always slightly at odds during these times."

"Did you know Ally and I have an open relationship?" He said it casually just as I took a bite of a strawberry-filled pierogi. I almost choked, but I don't know if he even noticed because he kept talking.

"We've always had that agreement since we first got serious. It was mostly for me back then, or so I thought. Years before Ally and I met, I was seeing a woman whose husband had died while she was pregnant, and I became a parental figure to her child before they could even walk. Even though we had broken up as a couple a few years before, I was still around her and the kid a lot and well, she and I still kept each other company. Ally didn't want the kid to lose me or be hurt in any way. She was the one who convinced this other woman and me that we were still in a relationship."

I didn't know what to say; all I could ask was, "Why are you telling me this, Kevin?"

He ignored me, "Now, Ally will tell you herself; she was born without the jealousy gene, as she puts it. But it was entirely the opposite for me, and I almost lost her because of it." He paused and asked me, "What do you think jealousy is?"

I considered his question, "When you're jealous, you're worried someone else is taking what you have."

Kevin nodded, "It's a reasonable definition. But back then, we were taught jealousy was a sign of how much you loved someone. It didn't matter what your gender was or who you loved; there were a whole lot of us who believed the intensity of jealous feelings was an indicator of how intense our love was for someone else. It took me years to recognize how wrong those lessons were, not to mention how ingrained they were in my behavior. No one is the property of another; I knew it in my head, but everything inside of me was telling me something very different."

I wasn't sure what to do or say. Should I keep eating or not? It didn't seem to matter to Kevin; he kept talking.

"Ally and I had been in our relationship for probably five years when she met someone she wanted to date. When she told me, I went through a lot of emotions I wasn't willing to acknowledge, and underlying all of it was jealousy. She never lied to me or tried to hide what she was doing, and I couldn't handle it." He shook his head, "I was perfectly fine with an open relationship so long as I was the one with multiple partners. Once I was on the other side of the equation, though, I didn't like it at all. I was jealous of the time and attention she spent on the other guy, and I made her life really uncomfortable. I tracked every second she was with him, and instead of being as gracious to her new relationship as she had been to mine the whole time we had been together, I took it out on her. It got to the point where she sat me down for a serious talk.

"We talked about jealousy and how I couldn't help feeling it. She acknowledged that I couldn't control my feelings but pointed out I had complete control over my actions. She gave me examples of how I was treating her then. I had been wasting our time together, complaining about her being with him and quizzing her about their time instead of cherishing our relationship and working to strengthen us. It finally penetrated my thick skull how close I was to losing her."

He toyed with a pierogi, and I could see blueberries seep out as he cut it. "I learned a lot from my mistakes. Mostly, I learned everything in a relationship has to be mutual, and if I want to pursue other relationships, I have to be okay with her doing the same. I also learned being able to pursue relationships with others isn't necessarily about sex, though it can be. It can be about sharing mutual interests, resonating with someone, and finding comfort in companionship. It can be a spectrum just like everything else."

I kept silent, waiting to hear what else he had to say.

"Ally and I have found our outside relationships can support our partnership. Neither of us has to spend time on an activity we dislike, which can detract from the other's enjoyment. We can spend time with those who share our passions and choose to be there. We've both learned how important it is for us to have close relationships with more than one person."

I was puzzled why he would tell me this. It was so very intimate. Finally, I realized he was trying to share a part of himself to strengthen our friendship. I appreciated the gesture but wasn't ready to return it with a sharing of my own at the time. "Thank you for opening up to me, Kevin. I'm honored you trusted me. "I didn't understand the wry smile he gave me in return.

Shortly after my time with Kevin, Renee and I were talking when she asked me, "What are you doing on Wednesday the 21st? Alex and I wanted to invite you to a Yule celebration if you're free. It's the winter solstice."

I felt my heart lift. I had no idea what a Yule celebration was, but I was ready.

I had traveled the corridor to the Northeast opening before I lifted, so once I arrived on the rec floor, I soon found Kevin standing beside Alex and Renee. Renee was dressed relatively casually, with long pants and a shirt patterned in greens and reds. Alex was in a long red caftan dress, whose sleeves ended above her elbows in the front but floated further toward her wrists behind. A hood fell behind her back, and she wore her hair loose, a headband of the same color keeping it from her face. Kevin was grinning as he greeted me, "Hey, Brandon. I'm glad you agreed to join us."

Renee and Alex hugged me. I couldn't help but notice Renee's hug was tighter and lasted longer than Alex's. We began walking to the site, Kevin and I slightly behind the two women, our carts dragging behind us. He must have seen how eager I looked as he asked me, "Do you know what you're getting into?"

"Not really, no. I know it's some sort of celebration for a seasonal holiday, Yule, but I don't understand much of it. Spirituality hasn't been something I've considered or thought about."

Kevin's expression became serious, "I'm what someone in the old days might have called a lapsed Catholic. My folks were pretty religious, and growing up, I had to go to church every Sunday. But once I was on my own, I just stopped. It wasn't something I internalized, still don't. But Ally's spirituality and tradition are important to her, and I'll go when it's something big, like tonight. I'll stick around for the first part of the evening, but once they start the drumming and chanting, I'm on my way home to a comfortable bed. Because this isn't only a celebration, it's a vigil."

I kept trying to think what the word meant. Had I ever heard it before? Dimly, a memory of something I had read came to mind. Keeping vigil meant something solemn, which was held from dusk to dawn. "Oh." I imagined standing the entire night with a group of strangers, silent and solemn, each struggling to keep awake through the longest night of the year. "How important is it that I be here?" I realized, even as I spoke, this vigil couldn't be silent, not with chanting and drumming.

Kevin laughed, "Renee and Ally cooked this up between them. You'd better be pretty brave to leave when I do. I've had years of building trust with both of them; you, my friend, are only just starting."

I felt my face heating up, and I'm sure Kevin saw it, too, because he said. "When you're ready, preferably once I've left, ask one or both of them to tell you about what's going on. They'll be more than happy to explain it, most likely in great detail. And it's not bad; it's a sabbat with pagans, which means lots of good food, laughter, music, and entertainment to get everyone through the night. And if you can't stay awake, well," he gestured to the blankets piled on the carts we were pulling.

When we arrived at the site, I just stopped. It was a typical area for festivals and activities, with a sturdy ground cover to support a good-sized crowd. But in front of me, surrounding the site, were the trees I had been thinking about a few weeks before. Like my memories, each tree was in its own container and lit up in a variety of decorative colors. The tree in front of me held bright red rounded clusters, each glowing and surrounded by points of different colored lights sparkling among the green branches. The trees were connected by thin, lighted cords, primarily white, some with sparkles of color running through them, mainly red and green. By the time Alex and Renee realized I had stopped and returned to me, I found my voice. "I remember these trees! Where did you find them?"

Alex smiled, "The Pan Pagan Alliance sponsors this Yule as a celebration open to all. We work with Habitat Admin and use the trees grown for the treeline as our fencing around the site and decorate them for Yule. We hold this Sabbat in a different section every year, and in a few days, the decorated trees will move to a quadrant on Culinary for the pleasure of those who encounter them."

I realized I hadn't known of any of this. Renee smiled and walked next to me as we joined a line of people and carts winding their way to a gate, standing alone and far ahead of an opening in the trees. Nothing stopped anyone from ignoring the line, walking through the opening between the trees, or even parking their carts before joining the line. And yet everyone stayed in line, pulling their carts piled high through the gate only to park them once on the other side.

I was even more confused as we approached the gate, and I could see what was happening. Everyone, except those carrying small children, went through the gate separately and silently. I saw a group dressed in robes similar to Alex's, holding bells and surrounding the gate. As each person stepped beneath the lintel, the bells were rung, and only when all sound lapsed again did anyone continue to the other side. Remembering Kevin's request, I filed the question away for later.

Once we had all come through, we parked the carts alongside the others and finally walked into the enclosure, Kevin pulling a cooler behind him. The area closest to us was filled with tables, and I saw contributions to the feast in platters and bowls being set. Kevin moved off with the cooler to place our donation and associated picnicware with the others, giving me a chance to ask, "What have you brought me to?"

I noticed a grin lighting up both of their faces, but I had no idea what was behind it. "The Sabbats are important to both of us," Renee offered. Alex and I thought you'd like to attend and see this side of us."

Alex took over, "Yule is the Sabbat marking a new beginning, a rebirth. We see it in the sun rising after the year's longest night. It's a promise from the universe to us that the seasons proceed in their time, and the wheel of the year continues to turn. We say goodbye to this Sun as it sets, hold vigil through the night and welcome the newborn Sun as it rises to begin the cycle again.

"This celebration is open to all but tends to be attended mainly by those who are pagan or considering the path. We vigil tonight, knowing someone will always be awake and holding space, even as others tire and nap. Short rituals will mark the beginning and end of the vigil, with activities available throughout the night to keep us awake and focused. Bardic circles will be held, where those who choose will share poems, songs and stories. Other adult activities will include divinations for the upcoming year to help us set our intentions. There are song and chant circles and, of course, the drum circle, where we will dance around our version of a bonfire."

I must have looked puzzled because she smiled and said, "You'll see shortly."

I felt Renee take my hand. I turned and saw her beautiful smile, listening to her as she explained, "Our pagan practices differ within the habitats. We might practice as part of a tradition encompassing multiple covens; some spread through multiple sections and habitats. Or we might be part of something smaller, a single coven, a few friends or even by ourselves. Our practices, pantheons, and even the individual deities we work with might differ, but for each of our Sabbats, eight times a year, we come together and celebrate as a larger community in each habitat. Volunteers collaborate and create the rituals, some more elaborate than others but all important to us. Because the volunteers rotate each year, we have the continuity of Sabbats celebrated in their seasonality and meaning, and since each Sabbat features different practices and rituals, the helix woven helps us gain a greater understanding of the holiday and each other."

I just watched her, entranced as she continued, "As the sun begins to set, the first rituals will take place. We'll be free to eat and wander around after."

Kevin rejoined us, and we walked into another fenced area beyond the tables. This fence was relatively low and primarily white, covered in a design of red berries vivid against dark green and glossy leaves. I saw a slightly raised stage at the other end as we walked into this enclosure. People were moving around and greeting one another as if it was a party. We made our way closer to the stage, the crowd letting us through as they recognized Kevin until we were in the front. Only when I stood directly before the stage did I realize Alex wasn't with us. Slowly, everyone began to settle, waiting as the sun dropped lower in the sky.

To my surprise, Amergin, Dana and Alex stepped onto the stage, each wearing the same red hooded robe. Alex moved to stand next to a small table set to one side while Amergin and Dana stayed, hands clasped together, in the center.

Dana began speaking to those of us gathered before her, "Welcome everyone to our Yule ritual, where we mark the Winter Solstice, signaling the start of a new turning of the wheel and a rebirth. We see it in the sun rising after the longest night of the year, and with that rising is the promise of a new day, a new season and a new year. The wheel continues to turn."

Amergin spoke, "We celebrate this rebirth with stories, poems and songs. They reflect the themes of darkness receding before the light, of the eternal fight between two symbolic figures, the Oak and Holly Kings, who battle each solstice, surrendering to the other in turn as they are at the height of their powers. We tell stories of the Lady, child of the source, herself divine, who chose to love one who was not and, pregnant with his child, followed him to the gates of death, though she could not cross, immortal as she was. We tell the story of the child she births, whose life begins with the sun's rising, the cycle starting anew."

They moved slightly apart, Dana saying, "We keep vigil this longest night, holding the last light of the last Sun of the year safely until morning when we give the newborn sun its predecessors' light. We help the wheel turn from one cycle to the next. And so long as at least one person is awake and watchful, the sun will rise tomorrow, above and below."

By this time, the sun was settling toward the trees, and Amergin produced a large semi-translucent yellow sphere from a pocket in his robe. He took the stone in both hands and raised it, seeming to peer through it as the sun began to set. Dana stood behind him, holding a square cloth in her slightly outstretched hands. A drum began to sound, keeping a steady rhythm. Around me, a chant started, with the same lines being sung over and over.

Deep, Deep, Deep, within the Mother.

Deep, Deep, Deep in the Cold.

Deep, Deep, Deep within myself

resides no song other than my soul's ₍₁₎

Amergin's arms lowered steadily in time with the sun sinking into the trees in the distance. The fabric Dana held, first white, moved to cream as it seemed to gather in the light of the setting sun. The chanting continued, and I felt myself drifting as I stood there, sinking into a profound sense of calm and connection. As the sun above us lowered even further, the cloth Dana held began to glow a soft and luminous yellow. Amergin took the fabric from Dana and wrapped it around the gem as the last of the sun was lost to us. He placed the loosely wrapped package on the lowered table Alex was standing near, setting it upon a small square platter off to one side and adjacent to a large, deep black bowl suspended between three sturdy poles. The bowl's opening was slightly higher than the table, situating it at the same level as the stone. I saw wisps of smoke rising from the bowl, wafting over the wrapped sphere before rising toward the sky.

Alex shifted, stepping down and standing behind the black bowl, holding a plate arranged with small twigs. She waited until the covered stone was placed to her satisfaction, and gradually, the crowd quieted.

Finally, with everyone silent and turned toward her, she began.

Nine woods in the cauldron go Burn them fast and burn them slow.

I saw her select a specific piece of wood each time she spoke, gently placing it into what I guessed was the cauldron, feeding the fire while continuing her poem.

Birch for Imbolc, candles lit, first to grow, seeding the way as sunlight continues its ascent.

Ostara finds Willow, softly draped upon the barely green banks of a spring-filled pond; its ability to heal through the gift of its bark echos the warmth we find in sun's spark.

Rowan flowers for Beltane, now in May, hold protection for all as the sun warms the way, Spring finally bursts forth, new bud and leaf, sunlight warming our hearts in new belief.

Oak for Litha, strength of summer, Sun's peak, Summer's heat, long to burn, long to light.

Juniper next, long days still, yet lengthening nights, part of the Lughnasadh harvest of much that is ripe. It's berries we use in both kitchen and still, infused and sun-ripened we pick our fill.

Apples for Mab on an appropriate day, sweet smell and taste, crisp and juicy its fruit, a delight for all the senses, as the inner star is revealed.

Samhain's pine, eternal green, reminds us though it be dark and gray, the light we hold within shall one day hold sway.

Holly at Yule, berries bright, Winter cold, winter night, quick to burn, quick to die.

I had grown entranced by a wisp of smoke rising from the cauldron since we don't see many open fires down here for obvious reasons. The smoke seemed to move of its own accord, drifting across the covered sphere and then rising, curling and curving over itself in a helix pattern. I stared dreamily into the smoke and almost missed what Alex was doing next. The plate was empty of all but a small net bag, holding a sprig of something only faintly green. She took up a knife and gently caught the bag on the top, keeping it slightly above the cauldron, slowly tipping the blade down and lowering the netted sprig while continuing to speak.

Mistletoe, wielder of death and life, holds within the seeds of sacrifice. Balance the wheel for harmony's sake, as required for our rebirth; make no mistake.

so Mote it Be!

The bag began to smoke, and she flicked the knife, allowing the netted mistletoe to fall into the fire. I saw a flame reaching up over the cauldron edge as if in response. Everyone, even Kevin, repeated the last phrase loudly and with vigor. I echoed them softly, tasting it and trying it on, wondering what it meant.

Another group dressed in robes replaced Alex around the table, bringing chairs, keeping an eye on the fire in the cauldron, and frugally feeding it larger pieces of wood from a pile I saw behind them. Alex approached us, Amergin and Dana at her side, her words preceding them. "The mistletoe is almost unusable anymore. Next year, we'll have to bundle it into a sachet instead of a net. And someone has to write a new ritual; it's time. We might be able to revive this one when we surface and if mistletoe still exists, but please find someone who can write decent poetry this time to come up with the incantation. I'm no good with creative writing of any kind, much less poetry. I wish someone had re-written this one long before this."

Amergin laughed, "They're your words, Alex. They hold the meaning you imbued them with. The fact it isn't in perfect meter or rhyme doesn't matter. It's an invocation from your hand, who founded our tradition here in the habitats."

I heard her scold him lightly, "You know darned well I'm not the founder of anything pagan-related, except maybe the PPA. I initiated and attained a third degree on the surface before the Foundation ever contacted us. There were initiates in Witches Head in all three North American habitats before the Catastrophe, and we all continued working together to keep it going. Never forget, Witches Head has always been a living tradition; one flexible enough to keep our core principles while changing our practices as our circumstances require."

Just as Amergin was about to reply, Kevin spoke up. "You'll be here all night, time enough to go on about anything and everything. Let's get some food before the good stuff is gone." He took Alex's hand in his, motioned for me to follow and we all headed off to the tables.

We joined at the end of the line and slowly passed in front of each table, choosing what to put on our plates. It was like Pesci-Fest, but not—no fish for starters, but plenty of pork. I took Renee's advice to eat lightly since we would be snacking through the night. So I only took a little of the pork, and a small bowl of pumpkin stew also went onto my tray. It was filled with potatoes, beans and greens, distinguishable only at the top before disappearing into the bright orange of the stew. There was plenty to choose from, mostly root vegetables, winter greens, and grains alongside beef and pork. Despite my attempts to only take a little, I couldn't resist, and my dish was filled by the time we arrived at the dessert table.

There was a variety to choose from: lemon cookies, bright as the sun itself, and decorated gingerbread. I saw white and red striped meringue cookies, pies made with apples and other fruits, and still more pies baked with nuts on top of sweet fillings. I chose a white meringue cookie and a slice of apple pie. Then, a gingerbread cookie shaped like a circle appeared on my tray. It was decorated with simple orange and yellow lines, most likely representing the sun's rays. The lines were squiggly and somehow endearing.

"The kids had their ritual earlier in the day," Renee said. "They all help decorate the cookies while talking about what they did this year and their wishes for the next. All the cookies were collected and brought here, where they're blessed with the rest of the food, similar to how we did it at Pesci-Fest. It's considered a tradition to take one, and they're pretty tasty too."

She continued, "Actually, a lot of what we did at Pesci-Fest was done before we arrived; the circle was cast around the enclosure, and Amergin and Dana blessed and libated the food before coming on stage."

Everything was delicious, and our small party of four became six as Amergin and Dana joined us. We were comfortable as we ate and made small talk. We couldn't do much more. Whenever someone wanted to talk about anything about the event other than the food, Kevin shushed us, all done and taken in good humor.

Once we were finished, with our dishes cleaned and returned to the still full tables ready for later grazing, the six of us headed further into the enclosure where a small stage was in front of a semi-circular arrangement of families and groups all sitting on blankets layered on the ground. "This is the bardic circle," Dana informed me." Anyone with a tale to tell, a song to sing or a poem to declaim may share it here. One of the old Yule traditions was to give physical gifts, but those aren't as important to us here and now, so we give the gifts of creativity and inspiration to any who wish to receive."

As we settled in, a singer was just finishing their offering. Then Amergin stood up and walked to the stage. "The Battle of the Oak and Holly Kings," he announced. It was one of the stories he had mentioned earlier, and I settled down to listen.

"In a time that is not a time, in a place that is not a place, there lived two brothers, each ruling their own kingdom—one known as the King of Holly, the other as the King of Oak.

"Where Holly's kingdom is dark and cold; its tree's bare branches showing sharply against the gray sky, devoid of any hint of color other than those reflections of green, blue and deep purple thrown off by ice; Oak's flourishes with warmth and life, as it displays all the colors of the rainbow. From the browns of trunk and branch and the greens of stalk and leaf spring forth a bountiful harvest for every sense we possess.

"Lying between the two is another land where those of us whose lives are measured along the spectrum of birth and death reside. And so the brothers battle to determine whose kingdom shall hold sway over our land, using the sun shining above our world as their prize. Twice each year, the brothers meet to wrest control of the sun from each other and thus impose their reality upon our own. Their battle is not one of physical strength but instead harnesses the incredible energies of the source, which we still have yet to truly understand. Each, in turn, ascends in power before finally giving way to the other at the height of their own dominance.

"The Oak King is weak now, compared to his brother, who just now tightens his icy grip on the world above us, but nevertheless, he battles this night and wins. With his victory comes strength, a little more each day, as the sun follows and the days gradually lengthen. But even as the Oak King claims victory and the seasons of spring and summer are assured, the Holly King still retains his icy grip on the land. As Oak's warmth spreads, so Holly's cold recedes until the brothers meet again to battle at the Summer Solstice.

"We can retreat into the dark and cold of this time, knowing the respite we take is earned. We have done the hard work of the harvest, and while the land awaits us in the spring, we have this time in between. We use this time of solitude to reflect and to learn about ourselves while waiting until the cold and dark recede. We craft new stories to tell and hear the old ones once again, waiting to bring it all forth when the earth warms and life shows itself anew."

Amergin finished his declamation and came over, sitting down next to me. "I'll have another story to tell later. Right now, we keep these easy for the kids to understand. Once most of them drop off, we tell other tales."

I had to be honest, "I'm glad to hear the simple stories because I don't know much about it, I haven't focused on anything outside of my partner and dance for much of my life."

Amergin grinned. "It's easy enough to do. We have it good down here, better for all who live now than at any other time in human history. There isn't much of a reason to think outside of ourselves. But, if you want to learn, our spirituality is based on what we know: air, fire, water, earth, and spirit. We honor those connections in nature and between each other. We use the stories and experiences our ancestors created and told to explain natural phenomena outside their comprehension as part of our connection with them. In this case, a poetic explanation for the waxing and waning of the solstices in conjunction with one another."

"Okay, you two, I give up," Kevin said good-naturedly. "whoever wants to talk Craft with Brandon, you have my permission to take him somewhere else, should he choose, and leave those of us who want to hear these offerings in peace." Dana and Renee turned to look at me, and while I felt my face get hot, I agreed to go. Alex snuggled closer to Kevin and said, "I'll catch up with you later."

The four of us walked along the line of glistening and glowing trees until we found a quiet place to sit. The lights strung through the trees slowly changed color as the darkness settled around us. "Shouldn't we wait for Alex?" I felt nervous, even though Renee was here and I trusted her, and Amergin and Dana weren't exactly strangers.

"And why would you need Grandmama here when you have the high saceredos of the coven she founded right before you?" Amergin grinned, "or Grand High Priestess Emeritus, as she hates to be called."

"She hates 'Grandmama' too. Stick with calling her Alex, and don't let Amergin goad you into anything else," Renee advised me. "He won't call her that to her face, but I think he wants someone to take the bait one day."

I thought Renee was giving good advice, but I wanted to know what Kevin meant when he let us go. "Kevin used the word 'Craft. ' I don't understand what he meant."

"One of the names for wicca is 'Craft of the Wise', which many shorten to just 'Craft'," Dana answered me. I noticed her hair was even more intricately braided than it had been at Pesci Fest, with a cross pattern holding the rest straight down her back. "But I'm sure you have other and better questions for us." She sat back expectantly, challenging me.

I didn't know if this qualified as Craft talk, but it was all I had: "When we came in, why did everyone go single-file through the gate, and why were they ringing bells?"

"Better, " Dana said. "It comes from the idea of being clean, both physically and energetically, when you step into a ritual setting. Early in most traditions was the idea of a ritual bath, with water containing herbs and salt, cleansing away any physical and psychic impurities. But baths were impractical for all but the smallest covens, and so splashes for hands and faces were substituted. Larger rituals tended to employ a stand-alone gate, with those coming through being smudged with the smoke of a smoldering plant. None of those is practical while we are down here. So, instead of using water, earth or fire, we cleanse with air. The pure and possible discordant sounds of bells, vibrating through our beings, reminding us to release what is unnecessary and come into ritual in a pure state."

"What you did on the stage at the beginning? What was it all about?"

Renee answered, "They captured the last of the sun's light in the amber ₍₂₎, and in the morning, they'll release it to meet the newly born sun. It speaks to the cycle of life and the connections we carry from one day to the next and from one cycle to another. As with almost all our other rituals, we've had to modify it to match the physical limitations of where we are. Alex told us how she used to capture the sun's last light in a candle flame. She would light the candle when the sun was just barely above the horizon, making sure the wick lined up in her sight with the last of the setting sun. She would then keep the flame going all night and return it by extinguishing it while holding the candle so she could see the newborn sun as it rose in the sky. She used to say she was never good at keeping vigil alone, so she let the candle do it for her."

Amergin said, "She used sympathetic magic, incorporating the principles of correspondence and association. ₍₃₎ In this case, the sun and the flame are considered fire. By her Will, she associated and transferred the sun's essence into that candle and then released it back the next morning as it rose."

"Figuratively speaking, of course," Dana interjected. "But acts beget action, and those who witness, remember. Our predecessors took up the challenge of creating the act without a candle. We distilled the underlying idea of the practice, which was moving the vibrations of the old year into the new, assuring continuity. We didn't need to capture the old light in a flame. We just needed to pass it into something capable of holding those intentions and vibrations we could release when we chose. We used what we know as the principles of correspondence, which follow that of association, meaning that when two things have something in common, the patterns or vibrations of each interact via those elements." She paused.

And Amergin continued. "Amber has a correspondence to the Sun, beginning with an ancient belief that amber was the concentrated essence of the rays of the setting sun. Whatever we do with one aspect of correspondence may affect another, greater aspect. For instance, we can't see the true sunset, but we can use the visualization of what we have available to tap into the greater energies of the actuality, which in this case would be the sun the earth revolves around. We capture the light from the sky dome into the amber and wrap it with a glowing cloth exposed to the same to hold the amber and charge inside safe within the greater vigil maintained by the community."

"And the other one, that was real fire, right?" I asked.

Dana said, "Yes, the nine woods ritual. It comes from the long version of the Wiccan Rede, the lines Alex said at the beginning, 'Nine woods in the cauldron go, burn them fast and burn them slow.' ₍₄₎ Some groups burn the nine woods around Beltane, which is considered a fire festival, but our tradition has always associated it with Yule. Alex's teacher taught that eight of the woods corresponded to the sabbats of the Wheel of the Year. The ninth wood, mistletoe, bears the seeds of destruction and healing, an appropriate sacrifice to bring the wheel into harmony and begin again with the new year. So, in essence…"

"In essence," Amergin interjected, "we cast a spell in which we bring in every part of the wheel of the year, burning the old and adding the seed of new beginnings into the ashes, birthing itself again, the same and yet not. Then the smoke runs over the amber, infusing our spell into the light we send back to the sun at dawn."

"Those twigs are over 150 years old, "said Renee. "The PPA, Pan Pagan Alliance, " she said, after seeing my puzzled look, "well, the members of the PPA began pooling the money they still had available to them on the surface to order any tools and natural materials they thought would be needed in our future. We still benefit from their forethought, though we have had to make substitutions over the years. It's one of the reasons the original pagan groups could make the protective spells which shielded them from the energies of the Catastrophe."

"And enhanced Alexandra's abilities," Amergin added, "wait! What did I say?" wincing as Dana poked him in the ribs. "It's not a secret, and he's here with her approval."

His acknowledgment generated a bout of laughter in the group, and while I smiled, I once again felt the warmth rising on my face. The conversation began meandering around, most of it going over my head. I learned enough to know I knew nothing. After a while, we saw Kevin and Alex coming toward us. Once they arrived, Kevin told us, "I'm heading back home, so I leave Ally to you. Have a great Yule vigil, all." We said our goodbyes to him, turning to Alex as he walked off.

"Have they overwhelmed you yet, Brandon?" she said as she sat beside me. I noticed she had changed clothing and was now in a lighter, flowing gown with multiple patterns flowing in purples, reds and greens. "We love talking about our spirituality with each other, exploring all the small nooks and crannies of thought and practice."

Amergin, his face almost matching his hair, briefly bowed his head. "You know me, Alex. I'll talk about it all day long if I can, and at least tonight, I can speak to like-minded others I don't see very often. "Will you excuse me while I go and do so?" He got up and said, "Brandon, when you're ready, you'll know how to find me. Have a wonderful night, and I'll see you at sunrise."

I must have looked puzzled because Dana turned to me and explained, "He's saying he'd be happy to be your teacher should you ever think of joining us." Seeing my face, she grinned, "Oh, don't look so scared." She studied me and said, "However, I'm not sure he'd be your best starting teacher. I'll have to give it some thought."

"Don't look at me," said Alex, with Renee echoing those exact words almost simultaneously. I thought I caught a speculative look on Dana's face as they spoke, but it changed so quickly I couldn't be sure.

"Like that, hmmm?" Turning to me, she said, "Brandon, in the Witches Head tradition, it's always the person who wants to be taught to be the one who asks, both for the initial teaching and for their elevations in rank. The teacher merely decides whether they are sincere and, in the case of an elevation, if they are truly ready to take on the responsibilities of a higher rank. The initial decision will depend on their association and how the teacher views the seeker." She must have seen how out of depth I was because she continued.

"Initiates who are asked to teach will not take on as a student someone with whom they have an existing relationship, whether it be immediate family or a dynamic involving power or attraction. A teacher must be objective and judge each individual on their actual abilities and accomplishments. Because a potential student must be the one who initiates the conversation, some initiates will hint at those they would be amenable to sharing their knowledge with. Amergin thinks he's subtle and mysterious; it goes with taking on the name of the first mortal bard.

"I'll be upfront. No one will pressure you to do anything but enjoy yourself tonight. If, and I mean if, you decide this is something you are interested in exploring, contact me. I'll introduce you to someone I think will be a good first teacher for you. And if you don't, I hope to see you at many future Sabbat celebrations as a guest." She stood up, "and with that, I'll leave you to your evening; like Amergin, there are a few people I want to talk with who I don't often get to see."

When Dana left, it was just the three of us: Alex, Renee, and me. I felt awkward. I hadn't been around them together since the night of Pesci-Fest and things had changed since then. Renee and I were starting to see each other seriously. While I had met with Alex several times since Pesci-Fest, it had been about a month with no contact. I wasn't sure how to act or what to say.

Renee spoke up, though, thankfully taking the decisions away from me. "I hear the drums. Let's go to the fire circle. I'm ready to dance!"

My body agreed with her. It had been so long since I had lost myself in movement and music. I imagined the melodies I had danced to with Cindy, and even though those drums weren't anywhere close to the music I recalled, I wanted to feel the same feelings I had when I used to dance. "I'm ready!" Renee smiled at me, and I felt wonderful.

"I'll meet you both over there," Alex said. And so we parted, Alex heading away from the fire while Renee and I, hand in hand, moved toward the sound of drums. I felt so torn, I was happy to hold Renee's hand but also yearned to hold Alex's. I didn't understand my feelings; I felt a regular attraction to Renee, even though I wasn't ready to move any faster. I knew I didn't feel the same attraction towards Alex, yet I still yearned to be near her.

"You're thinking about Alex, aren't you?" Renee said quietly.

My first impulse was to deny it, but I had learned to recognize the feeling and knew it was just my fear. By identifying and naming the reaction, I could push past it. "I am, but it has nothing to do with what I think or, dare I say, how I am beginning to feel for you."

She squeezed my hand, "I've known Alex and Kevin my entire life, and I'm incredibly close to both of them. I was one of those kids you saw at Pesci Fest, knowing her just like any other adult. My ancestor Zara was her favorite grandchild. They had a unique bond for her entire lifetime. Alex is special both for what she does and simply for being who she is. It's one of the things Leslie had a hard time with, my closeness with Alex and Kevin. She felt like there wasn't as much room for herself in my life as there might be with someone not connected to Alex; she was right.

"Neither of us knew who the other was when we met, and I'll admit, I felt a spark then, almost immediately." She smiled, and once more, I felt my face redden. "I'm trying to say if you and Alex spend time together, with or without me, I'm okay with it. I don't know what I feel toward you yet, and I'm guessing it's the same for you. It's okay, we have time. And whether or not whatever you and I have develops any further than it does today, it shouldn't intrude on your friendship with Alex or Kevin. I'll be honest: it's nice not to feel like the odd person around them, to be part of two couples exploring something. It's very different for me, and I'm enjoying it."

I didn't know what to say, so I returned her squeeze and said, "Thank you."

Hand in hand, we entered what she called the fire circle. It was a large area, again surrounded by those low fences featuring realistic images of glossy green leaves and bright red berries woven around the horizontal railing with openings in the middle of each. To our right, a column, contained by a low gray wall, was placed halfway between our opening and the one beyond. Images of flames danced on its surface in what seemed to be a random pattern. To one side, I saw drummers seated on benches, each with their single or double drums of various sizes, different beats emanating and layering with the others to create a rhythm that I could not only hear but feel, a vibration filling the bones of my body.

Between the drummers and the fire column, the dancers moved around the column clockwise. I couldn't see a rhythm or pattern in the dance; it looked ridiculous to my eyes. Everyone danced their own dance, some in time with the drums, some shuffling around, others darting between, moving fast in an unpredictable manner, defying the beat beneath it all. It wasn't like any dancing I had ever seen or experienced. My heart sank; this wasn't the dance I wanted, but somehow, the rhythm was finding its way into my bones, and my body wanted to move.

I heard Alex's voice behind me. "Dancing with the drums is a way to connect ourselves to something larger, to let go, relinquish control from our conscious minds and let rhythms take us where they will. As individuals, we are still part of the whole, moving in the ways our spirit requires. We dance together, and yet we each dance alone. Our dance can be sharp and staccato, flowing, lyrical, chaotic, or even perfectly still, allowing the energy to flow around and through us. ₍₅₎ Never in perfect unison, which belies our individuality, but all of it, every dancer's contribution adds to the energy of the whole, and through that connected energy, we emerge strengthened."

I felt Renee drop my hand after giving it one last squeeze. Then she took a package Alex had been holding and moved it to an area further back from the drummers. There, I saw people at tables, intent on whatever their task, and others on benches or standing just talking and drinking from passed containers.

Alex stood beside me, saying, "I know you want to dance, but first, I'd like you to participate in another activity." She led me over to the tables, where I saw styluses being used on plain, used cloth strips, ready for recycling. "One of tonight's activities is to create a representation of what we want to leave behind with the year just past. It can be a drawing, a symbol, a word, whatever you want. Whatever you choose is private, between you and the universe; no one else needs to know. We'll attach them to the fence and leave them, walking away and dismissing it from our minds. Then, once we are unencumbered from the past, we can dance our way into the new year.

We joined Renee at a table, and as I sat, I thought about what I wanted to relieve myself of. Not Cindy, I will never forget my first love. But…

I finally decided what I was willing to leave behind, grabbed a stylus to activate the colors in the cloth before me and began. Once finished, I emulated how others were folding their strips to hide what I chose to rid myself of. Finally, I joined Alex and Renee, and we walked slowly up to the fence at the edge of the circle and tied the strips amongst the others scattered on the rails. I turned back towards the fire, refusing to look behind me. I tried to release what I had written, and it was hard; I had carried my grief for so long.

As we returned to the fire circle, I was disappointed to hear the drums stop. But while the dancing stopped, no one left; instead, more began to gather and formed a large circle, everyone facing the fire. I saw each person take the hand next to them, and a single drum began a simple beat. Thump thump, thump thump, it sounded like a heartbeat. Renee took one of my hands, Alex took the other, and we walked forward to join the circle. Some around us started to bounce gently in time with the beat. When the circle stopped expanding, I saw a hand raise, and a few other drums joined that underlying heartbeat, increasing the tempo slightly. The line on my right moved sideways as we stepped in time to the heartbeat. Thump thump, thump thump.

We weren't moving to the music, and the beat wasn't filling my soul. But at some point, I realized the lead person had curved around, and was in front of me, facing me, pulling everyone behind them past me. The dance became a sea of faces before me one after the other, big, small, thin, stocky, old, young, each of them seeing me as I saw them, as an individual, and yet we moved as one, well mostly. The line curved around the fire, weaving as we came face-to-face with every other person in the dance. I could feel my hands growing warm, and the warmth moved up my arms and into my body. Finally, the drums stopped as we ended again in a circle facing the fire column, only then dropping the hands we had held the entire time and finding ourselves separate yet still connected.

I felt awake and invigorated, and then the drums began, a different rhythm from earlier. I wasn't ready to take part, so I moved out of the way, watching the dancing, with Alex's words from before coming to mind. As I reflected on her explanation I began to see the dance styles she had described. I watched those who seemed to flow around the circle, mostly dancing around the outer areas, some faster, some slower, but constantly flowing, creating a container for the rest. I could see the drums themselves in the dance of the staccatos, each of their movements as sharp as the beat they followed. Stomping in rhythm, never deviating, always matching the beat of their chosen drum. The lyrical dancers mimicked some of the movement of those who flowed, but were still distinctly their own. Their movements among the other dancers stirred and swirled the whole, mixing it like a batter so the whole became something more than the individual ingredients. It took me time to find those who danced in stillness, finally locating most closer to the column, just outside the barrier. They primarily faced inward, though some slowly rotated, swaying as still as can be when answering the beating of a drum.

I finally turned my attention to those I would consider chaotic. Some danced jerkily, without conscious thought of where they were in relation to anyone else, pulling those near them slightly away from whatever state they had been in. Others zoomed around, jumping, achieving the same result. This time, I could see the whole and, moving past my disappointment, I realized the dissonance they caused helped to stop mindless conformity, perhaps coming from a trance state, which allowed those startled sometimes to join another modality rather than the one they had been a part of. Staccato changing to flowing perhaps, less in lockstep, more in tune with emotions. Dissonance helped regulate a delicate balance. I lost myself, not needing to join physically, but lost in the movements I had never seen before, an asynchronous dance made up of individuals and contributing to a beautiful organic and holistic whole.

Renee was the first to release my hand, allowing herself to get swept into the dance. I wrested my attention from the whole and focused on her and how her movements affected those she moved by. She began by stamping to the base beat of the drums, moving slightly from side to side as she moved with the group around the circle. By the second or third time she passed by me, she had found the rhythm of one drum, whose beat she mimicked in her movements, sharp and crisp. She fit in the circle, creating a bright and consistent cadence my eye was drawn to each time she came into view.

I only became aware I had still been holding Alex's hand, when she released it. She flowed into the dance, each time seeming more oblivious to her surroundings, transported elsewhere, but still in complete control of her movements as she flowed in a complicated pattern curving in and around the dancers, always in the empty spaces, continuously in rhythm and yet not quite a part of everything. It was almost as if she were doing her own spiral dance, acknowledging every person's unique contribution to the whole, supporting everyone as she moved. I saw her and Renee dance together, the only acknowledged pairing I could see. It wasn't long, a look, a quick touch and Alex was gone, leaving Renee behind only to come back around to meet and greet her once more. And still, I watched.

Eventually, the drums stopped, as did the dancers, and I came back to myself to find Alex and Renee walking back to stand beside me, then leading me to the benches situated further from the fire where I sat, only to soon feel a container being pressed into my hand. I looked to see Amergin smiling down at me." The dancing got to you? Good, drink some of this." I realized it was alcoholic the moment it went into my mouth. It was sweet, thicker than wine and tasted of raisins.

"Wow, thanks, what is it?" I asked, taking a few more drinks, reluctant to pass it on.

"It's mead, basically fermented honey. We use it in our rituals, and whatever we have left over gets split between the Sabbats of Yule and Litha. Good, huh!" He took the container from me and moved to another group, giving them a taste of his magical elixir. I was sorry to see him go; I wanted to drink the entire container.

I spent most of the night dancing and watching around the fire circle, stopping only to replenish my energy with snacks when led there by Alex and Renee. It was wonderful. I held hands with them, sometimes together, at other times with one alone. I stopped worrying about who I was with; I was happy with either or both. I found my own rhythms around the fire, a drum to not simply follow but to take into an intricate counterpoint with me as my feet and body moved to match what I felt inside. I felt the energy rise as a participant in a way I could not feel as a spectator, but each gave me pleasure and focus, and I flowed between the two.

Later in the night, we walked to the divination area to have my fortune read. I thought it was silly, but Renee was so sweet I couldn't say no. Alex led me to a tarot table, and the person sitting there gave me a stack of cards to shuffle around. Once I did, they laid out three cards, all facing me.

The reader laid a finger on the first one, "Your past."

It was a card of purples and yellows, with a golden wheel encircling ten spokes in the middle. Strange-looking creatures were arranged around the outside of the wheel, one at the top and the others closer to the bottom.

They went on to say, "The card is called Fortune. You went through a situation over which you had no control, and you were left to pick up the pieces and adapt to the changes in your life."

They pointed to the next one, "Your present - The Magus".

The colors were predominantly blues, purples and, again, gold. The gold was a person with wings on their feet, standing or attached to a staff behind them from which a snake appeared over their head. Spinning around the person were various symbols. I couldn't make out many of them, but I was sure one was a cup.

"The tools you need to support those changes in your life are there for the asking."

The last card was orange and red, with ten gold cups arranged in a pattern I had never seen. Light spilled down from each cup, filling and overfilling the ones below it. Again, the finger pointed, and I was told, "Your future, Ten of Cups, desires fulfilled."

"Now that," said Alex as we walked to another station, "is a wonderful divination for a new year." I had to agree, but still, I wondered what those tools were.

We each had a divination, done in different ways. Alex opted for runes, drawing Othala and Gebo (Family and Gifts Given and Received, she told me.) Renee wouldn't share her reading, which was done with long sticks she tossed on the table, but her eyes were shining, and she looked happy.

Taking my hand, Alex led me to another table set with two bowls. I watched as each person took a small stalk of dried lavender from one and stood quietly with it pressed between their hands. Once they were finished, they put it into the other bowl, which was periodically collected.

"Press this to your heart, and make your wish for the new cycle." I did so, not even forming words, letting whatever was in my heart form my wish.

Dawn was approaching as we met Amergin, who offered me more raisin mead, which I was happy to accept. Finally, we made our way back to the stage, where I imagined I could smell sweet flowers in the air. I found myself gushing, "I can't believe we've stayed up all night. I've had such a wonderful time." Alex and Renee each put an arm under me and helped to steady me as they walked.

"I think one of us should have warned him about Amergin and the mead," Renee said." It probably wasn't fair, especially the raisin mead. It packs a wallop."

"It always has," Alex chuckled, "and somehow, I always seem to be the one holding the larger person steady in these circumstances."

We made our way closer to the stage, and I saw bunches of fresh lavender, green and purple threaded together, placed around and decorating the stage. "I thought we used dried lavender earlier?"

"We did. The fresh lavender is for next year's ritual. The lavender we used was from last year. After imbuing our intentions into the stalks for the coming year, we burn them in the cauldron to send those intentions into the light captured in the amber. The original tradition was based on the Yule tree and Yule log, whereby each year's Yule log was the previous year's tree. The Yule log was traditionally burned in a fire in the presence of the Yule Tree. So as we leave the lavender to dry, it will form part of our fire next Yule."

As we waited for the sun to appear, I heard singing and chanting, songs and poetry, all centering on greeting the rising sun; I let the sounds and music drift in me and through me, lifting me as I watched Amergin rise with the still-covered stone in his hands. As the dawn brightened, he removed the cloth and held it again so the sun seemed to shine upon it. I felt myself soaring, along with everyone, up and out of the confines of the habitat. I swear I felt the sun's touch on my skin as it came out from the horizon in the east.

The sun had risen, and our vigil was done.