Jera; the Harvest

The Door of warm golden wood was carved with Jera, surrounded by a wreath of apples and leaves.  I opened the door and stepped over the threshold and into the Otherworld. 

I looked at my feet but they were hidden beneath the hem of a burgundy silk gown.  The floor was stone, like the Tower itself but covered in soft colorful rugs. 

I looked around and found myself in a large room lit with lanterns and a fire burning in the hearth at one end.  The air smelled of cinnamon and fresh baked bread.

 In the center of the room was a long wooden table dressed in gold and red brocade and filled with an abundance of food.  Platters and bowls and baskets filled with honey glazed ham, fresh bread and hard cheese, apples and peaches and berries, pitchers of cider and wine, and vases of roses and autumn flowers.  

Dancing music filled the room and the sound of laugher and cheerful conversation.  The chairs around the table were filled with the harvest of a life lived well, family of blood and family of choice, lovers and dear friends, and children who have not yet been born.  My heart was filled with love and hope and joy at the sight and sound of these beloved ones.  This is the harvest I hope for.  Beloveds who are happy and well.  Being surrounded by them in celebration of life.  May my Gods grant me this harvest.  So mote it be.

I spent a long time enjoying the company and when I became tired I fell asleep in a soft comfortable chair beside the fire with a babe in my arms.  When I woke I was again in the mundane world.

Othala; the Heart of the Ancestors

I stepped through the door and into the Otherworld.   I looked at my feet.  I was barefoot and the grass beneath my feet was soft and brown.  I wore a simple woolen dress of my family tartan, and a bronze amulet of a boar, my family’s totem, hung over my heart on a ribbon of red silk. 

I looked around me and found myself in an autumn evening at twilight.  The woods nearby were almost bare and the path in front of me led over a grassy hill.  I followed the path over the hill and on the other side found a low round-house with a thatched roof.  The windows glowed with warm light and wood-smoke rose from the chimney into the evening air and smelled like home.

When I found the doorway, the wooden beam above was carved with a crescent and v-rod like the tattoo on my back, the side beams with a trisckle on the left and a spiral on the right. An equal-armed cross decorated with knotwork adorned the threshold and a red whole-cloth blanket quilted with a dragon covered the door.  I pulled the blanket aside and entered, letting it drop back into place behind me and looked around.

The roof was supported by a network of straight beams in a concentrically spiraling starburst pattern, the walls were stone and the floor was covered in rugs of braided wool rags like my great-grandmother used to make when I was a child.  Glowing oil lamps and books filled the small wooden shelves around the walls, and musical instruments hung from the beams supporting the roof.   

A fire danced brightly in the small hearth, warming the entire house. In front of the hearth sat a small wooden table with a white linen table-cloth, and on it, my grandmother’s teapot in robin’s egg blue and two miss-matched cups.   Beside the table I saw a basket made like the rugs, of braided woolen rags and inside the basket, a babe wrapped in a yellow blanket crocheted like my Nana had made it.  The infant slept peacefully, breathing easily, safe and warm and blissful. 

As I turned to leave, something flashed on the edge of my sight.  I turned again to see on the mantle above the hearth, an egg of garnet.  It was deep and clear and smooth and it seemed to glow from the inside.  As I continued to gaze at the stone, I heard music and a voice speaking to me of the “heart-stone”, the heart of my ancestors.  The stone will receive the energy I send to it and it will serve as a source of power for the ancestors to protect the child, to heal and bless the babe in the basket.  

When the music and the voice stilled, all was quiet once more and as I pulled back the blanket covering the door, I noticed my grandmother’s garnet ring upon my hand.  I went back out into the night and followed the path back the way I had come.