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.

Kenaz; the Light of Knowledge and Truth

As I descended the stairs in the Tower, I noticed the lanterns upon the walls, illuminating the stairs so that I could descend them in safety.  The door was inscribed with Kenaz and a lantern hung above the Rune.  I opened the Door and crossed the threshold into the Otherworld and found myself in a large Library. 

There were books and scrolls everywhere, on shelves against the walls reaching stories upwards towards the ceiling, on tables in the center where someone had been working diligently in study. 

Lamps and lanterns glowed everywhere illuminating the space with warm golden light.

It was beautiful and I was filled with joy and pleasure at the sight and the warm power of the place.  

I wandered, finding a book in my hand and enjoying the firm ornate covering and the crisp clean pages and the words in neat print, then a soft, worn, leather tome with gilded edges on the soft delicate pages, then a plain ragged paperback with handwritten poetry.  

Each was a treasure of great worth to me. 

The words in one book reminded me that knowledge is Power, and that words hold Power. Truth is Power. Stories are a way of using that Power to create a better world, Stories and Poetry are magick, they can inspire and invoke and enchant.  They can change the world. 

My purpose in this world is about communication; poetry, and storytelling, and teaching knowledge, and telling truth.   My purpose is to help others find the candles, and light the lanterns, and teach them where to find the Library, and how to read the words.  

Gebo; the Gift of Joining

I stepped over the threshold into the Otherworld and looked at my feet.  I was standing upon the soft new grass of a warm spring day and my bare feet were almost hidden under the hem of a party dress the color of new willow leaves.  When I lifted my gaze, I found myself on a gentle slope in the morning sun. There were others there, all dressed in brightly colored finery.

A tall pole stood in the center of the meadow, colorful ribbons dancing in the breeze.  And at the other side of the gathering stood two people, their hands joined and, smiles upon their faces.  The two gazed lovingly into one another’s eyes, as if they were oblivious to any but the other, and I felt profoundly blessed to be present, and grateful to witness the gift of their joining.

The assembled celebrated with cheers and laughter, dancing and singing to the music that came from a small group of musicians sitting close to the Maypole. I danced and sang among them for as long as I could and when I felt the time had come for me to go, I offered a blessing upon the couple and took my leave.

Tiwaz; Dance of the Wolf Shaman

Painting by Susan Seddon Boulet

I step through the Door and into the Otherworld.  I look down at my feet. I am barefoot and the ground beneath my feet is covered in snow.  I am wearing animal pelts, furs secured with strips of rough leather.  They are soft and warm and despite the snow upon the ground, I do not feel the cold. 

I look around me and discover that I am in an old-growth forest of conifers.  The sky overhead is black, but filled with bright stars.  As my eyes adjust to the darkness, the path before me is just visible enough to follow, the starlight reflecting off the snow that covers the ground.

I step forward and begin to follow the path through the forest.  It is dark and quiet and as I walk along I begin to feel as though I am being watched, not followed so much as accompanied by an unseen companion.  It is then that I notice the light ahead.  I continue on, eager to discover the source of the light.

I come to a clearing in the trees and find a large fire blazing at its center.  I pause for a moment at the place where the path meets the clearing and watch.  The fire is very large and burning bright and high, sparks rising from the top high into the night sky.  Then from the other side of the clearing, he appears dancing around the fire.  He is large and has long hair and a long beard and he is naked but for the pelt of a wolf.  He is dancing ecstatically around the fire, spinning and leaping and moving more like a wolf than a man. 

Then I notice the wolf pelt laid out upon a large rock next to me.  Instinct tells me that I am to put it on and dance with the shaman.  I do and find that my awkwardness fades and I move as if the wolf is dancing through me. As I dance, I can feel a sense of sacrifice. 

I feel the sacrifice that the shaman makes, going into the dark, cold night and dancing alone.  Sacrificing the comfort of community for the sake of his community.  Leaving the comforts of his warm, safe home and the pleasures of his bed and his lover, the joys of tucking his children in, to dance this night with the wolf in the forest.

I leave the pelt I have been given upon the rock on which I found it and return the way I came.

My Pwca always lays with me when I travel and this journey was no different until just before I opened the door.  He suddenly attacked my hand with teeth and claws and then removed himself to a chair instead.  As soon as I returned and closed the door behind me he returned to my side, as loving as always, and purred until he fell asleep.  The message I took from that is that he doesn’t like Wolves.  He will travel with me but not if I am going to visit the Wolf.