The Coming Year

With Bride’s Day and Candlemas, my New Year, coming up, I’ve been looking back at the last, a year of change. It was a year of starting new things, of revelation and contemplation, of moves and reorganization. A year of flux.

And I consider the coming year, what is in store, what I can expect, where my focus will be.

I don’t really do New Years resolutions, regardless of what New Year I’m talking about. But having some areas to focus on throughout the year is always a good thing. Here are the areas I am planning on focusing.

Being more open and authentic to who I am.

This affects many areas of my life. A lot of the time, I hide parts of myself because I’m not sure how people will respond to them. Not because I think they will judge me, nor that they would be upset at me, but because I am afraid it would hurt them or disturb them, that they would worry or not know how to handle it. So I lock off parts of my life based on possible issues revealing them could cause. Which, in trying to avoid hurting people often hurts me or ends up hurting them anyway, likely in ways that telling them never would.

This doesn’t just mean over all, it also means in the moment. There are parts of me that change, cycles and shifts. These aren’t constant, they are fluid. Being open and authentic doesn’t just mean being such to the stable, static aspects (though nothing is really static, just the life cycles of them are much longer), but to the changing, dynamic aspects as well.

This also doesn’t mean telling everyone everything. I’m focusing on avoiding hiding parts of me, avoiding not being true to who I am, but that doesn’t mean I need to advertise and promote it either. That is no more authentic than the hiding is. The goal is a general shift to hiding less and being more open and true. Of giving others the chance to accept who I am instead of taking that from them.

Understand my own cycles.

To do this, an important part is understanding those cycles. I spent much of the last two years working to understand the cycles of the land, the seasons, the moons. Now I need to add to that an understanding of my own cycles, those of my body, my mind, my souls. How do I change with time? What cycles exist? Are they regular or are the influenced by outside things? I need to know me before I can be true, authentic, and open about it. I have a fair understanding of myself, of the various aspects, of what changes and what stays basically the same. But I know these things in the moment, not how I get to them, what patterns exist in the shifts. It’s time to identify these.

Learning to be an oral storyteller.

I have many stories I know, enough to fill several lifetimes of telling, and more keep coming. As Lorekeeper, I keeper the lore I am given and am responsible for getting it to those that need to hear it. I’m a decent writer, I think, and good at crafting stories. But presenting them to others orally, not so much. I can speak, I can share, but I don’t have the skills to bring them alive.

This year, I’m going to focus on developing those skills. Learn what those skills are. Learn how to learn to use them. Learn how to use them. Practice and hone them. It won’t be finished in a year obviously, but I can begin the journey, I can actively pursue it, I can make choices that will bring it to me.

Hone my skills at and determine if I can start doing readings for others.

I’ve found over the last year I’m decent at doing readings, not just for myself, but also for others. I’ve used readings to determine what people need, and present that in a form they can relate to. I don’t know if I could make money with it or not, or if I could do it actively enough to make it a thing I do, whether I’m paid or not. This year, I want to focus on honing my skills at it in relation to others, as most of my experience is for myself, and look into what directions it can take beyond what I do now, whether it could be a business or a community service, whether there are other related areas or techniques I need to learn, and what form it might take in whatever direction I take it.

Just as understanding my cycles relates to being authentic, this relates to storytelling. For reading for someone else is essentially telling the story. I can say all I want, this card typically means this, and in this position it usually means this, but a reading is so much more meaningful if you bring it to life. It’s fortunetelling, not fortune-analyzing. I’m good at the analytical side, it’s time to learn the telling side.

Additionally, I want to practice dowsing more in the coming year. I re-awoke it this last year after not doing it since my father taught me as a child. Now I need to practice and hone it. And to determine what uses I can put it to for others, whether pro bono or for money.

So, four areas:

Authenticity
Understanding Personal Cycles
Storytelling
Fortunetelling

We’ll see where this all leads and its effect on the rest of my practice, life, and future.

FFF,
~Muninn’s Kiss

 

Time of the Lost

We now enter the Time of the Lost, and the Time of the Found. The Keeper of the Lost rises, rises to Regency, as the Keeper of Secrets falls. The Time of the Lost has come. And the Time of the Found.

The Lost aren’t those that don’t know salvation, or those who don’t know their way. For there are those who know the way but are lost, and those that can’t see the way who are found. No, the Lost are not these. The Lost are many, who can count? Only their Keeper.

The Lost are those who don’t see the way, not because they are blind or unable, but because they don’t choose to.

The Lost are those that have forgotten. Forgotten the way, forgotten they know the way, have no vision.

The Lost are those who are forgotten, who no one sees, no one remembers. The dead that are not remembered, the living who are ignored or not seen.

“Where there is no vision, the people perish…” ~Proverbs 29:18a*

The Lost are those who wander, crossing the worlds while not knowing it, wandering forevermore, unaware.

The Lost are those living on the streets, unnoticed by passersby, or ignored, avoided by them.

The Lost are those spending every night in the bar, drinking to forget.

The Lost are those working three jobs or tons of overtime to pay bills for things they have no time to enjoy, not living, just surviving, though they appear to be successful.

The Lost are those living alone in a house or apartment, afraid to go outside for reasons only they know.

The Lost are those who die alone, no one knowing until the smell draws attention.

The Lost are those living in nursing homes, with no family to visit, or no family that does visit.

The Lost are those who die on the streets, with a body tag saying John or Jane Doe, no one morning, no one claiming the body, no one naming the name.

The Lost are those who are forgotten shortly after their death, their families and friends going about their business, their stories and life ending with their death, never to be recalled again.

The Lost are those searching but not looking, wanting to find a path, but afraid they actually will. Running from their past, afraid of their future, they move aimlessly, lost but not sure they want to be found.

The Lost are those who make the logical choices in life, the ones that will bring what seems like success, stability, security, but ignore the calling they hear, not taking the risk to follow desire, necessity, or destiny.

The Lost are those who think themselves in full control of their destiny, believe they see the path before them clearly, all laid bare, but are really only seeing swirling mists, not even their own feet, inventing pictures in the mist thinking them visions, when all they are are wistful dreams.

The Time of the Lost has come. And the Time of the Found.

The Keeper of the Lost is also the Keeper of the Found. Just as the Builder of Storms is also the Builder of Stillness, and the Bringer of Tears brings both tears of sorrow and joy.

What was Lost shall be found, but what was Found can be lost. Fortunes change, conditions change, there is sudden gain and there is sudden lose. Winter’s Mistress is harsh and unforgiving, the Left and the Right Hand of Fate. Nothing is certain, nothing stays the same.

Look.

Listen

Observe.

What do you see? What do you hear? What do you perceive?

The line it is drawn
And the curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast

As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin’

And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin’
~The Times They Are A-Changin’ by Bob Dylan

The Lost can be Found, the Found can be Lost. We sit in the Abyss, the year has ended, but the new year doesn’t begin. Waiting. A time when anything can happen, and likely will.

The Wild Hunt rides.

Can you hear it? Can you feel it?

Do you here winds blowing between worlds?

Listen.

Look.

Observe.

Change. Sudden and unexpected.

What was Lost shall be found, but what was Found can be lost.

We now enter the Time of the Lost, and the Time of the Found. The Keeper of the Lost rises, rises to Regency, as the Keeper of Secrets falls. The Time of the Lost has come. And the Time of the Found.

Can you feel it?

FFF,
~Muninn’s Kiss
*For context, the entire verse is “Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he.”

 

2012 Myth Cycle: Year in Review

יד וַיֹּאמֶר אֱלֹהִים יְהִי מְאֹרֹת בִּרְקִיעַ הַשָּׁמַיִם לְהַבְדִּיל בֵּין הַיּוֹם וּבֵין הַלָּיְלָה וְהָיוּ לְאֹתֹת וּלְמוֹעֲדִים וּלְיָמִים וְשָׁנִים
טו וְהָיוּ לִמְאוֹרֹת בִּרְקִיעַ הַשָּׁמַיִם לְהָאִיר עַל-הָאָרֶץ וַיְהִי-כֵן

14 And God said: ‘Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days and years; 15 and let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth.’

And it was so. The year passes, day by day, week by week, month by month. Tides come in, tides go out. Moons move to full and back to dark. Time passes.

According to the current Gregorian Calendar, today is the first of the year, but as I’ve said many times, different cultures each have their own new year. This year, the Chinese New Year lands on February 10th. Depending on the purpose, September 4th, January 25th, or March 12th can be considered the beginning of the new year this coming year in the Jewish calendar. In the Islamic calendar, it begins November 3rd this coming year. Some cultures begin the year on Samhain or Beltaine, or on one of the Equinoxes or Solstices. We celebrate it on January 1st in most of the Western world because of the use of the Gregorian calendar which is based on the Julian calendar, since January 1st, the Feast of Janus, was the Roman new year. It should be noted that January 1st is the 8th day from Christmas (including both end points), so is seen as the day Christ was circumcised based on a December 25th birth. However, Christmas was likely originally a Solstice celebration, December 25th being the original date given to the Solstice, before shifting moved it roughly four days back. This would make January 1st, the Feast of Janus, the eighth day from the Solstice, so properly December 28th or 29th depending on the day. We still celebrate the Feast of Janus, if you look carefully. Janus is the two faced god, one looking back, the other forward, just as we do, celebrating what happened in the last year and making resolutions for the coming year.

Much of the pagan and occult community celebrates the eight (or nine) Knots of the year, the eight Fire Festivals, or whatever name each uses, sometimes poetically called the Wheel of the Year. These are Bride’s Day/Candlemas/Imbolc, the Spring Equinox/Ostara, May Day/Roodmas/Beltane, the Summer Solstice/Midsummer/Feast of John the Baptist/Litha, Lugh’s Day/Lughnasadh/Lammas/August Eve/Feast of Augustus/Feast of Sofia, the Autumn Equinox/Michaelmas/Mabon, All Saint’s Day/All Soul’s Day/Hallowe’en/Samhain, and the Winter Solstice/Midwinter/Chistmas/Yule.

I don’t always celebrate these, but I note their passing, or, more accurately, the passing of their Tides, as these are the high tides of energy cycles throughout the year. The Tides don’t always fall on those specific days. This is because those days are pinpointed by the solar year, the solstices being the most northern and most southern movements of the sun through the sky or the shortest and longest day or night, the equinoxes being the days when day and night are equal in length, and the other four the midpoints between. But the Tides are not solar, and they aren’t lunar. If they were solar, the cross-quarters (Bride’s Day, Beltaine, Lugh’s Day, and Samhain) would have no significance. If they were lunar, there would be thirteen, not eight. Even the months, despite the origin of the name, aren’t lunar in Western calendars, for there are roughly 13 moons, but only twelve months, and originally only ten (you’ll note the names January, Janus, February, Februum, March, Mars, April, Aperire, May, Maia, June, Juno, September, Seven, October, Eight, November, Nine, and December, Ten). Neither twelve nor ten fit the moons. But twelve does fit the Zodiac, which is of course stellar, not solar or lunar. Libra was added late, with 11 constellations in the Zodiac before that, maybe ten previously at some point. You’ll also notice that the moon occults Aldebaran around the Autumn Equinox in the Southern Hemisphere. Aldebaran is the brightest star in Taurus, the Bull, and becomes visible in the Northern Hemisphere around Samhain, sinking again around Beltaine, being highest around Bride’s Day. Regulus is often occulted by the moon around the Summer Solstice. Regulus is the brightest star in Leo, the Lion, and becomes most visible in the Northern Hemisphere around Bride’s Day, and disappears around Lugh’s Day, being highest around Beltaine. Antares can be occulted by the moon during any month. It is the brightest star in Scorpio, the Scorpion, and is roughly visible from around the spring equinox to the autumn equinox, highest closest to the summer solstice. There are other stars that point to various other of the eight Knots, but I’ll leave that for a later post.

I note the passing of the Tides, and often how the solar cycles, lunar cycles, and stellar cycles land, sometimes celebrating or doing a working, sometimes just noting them. But in noting them, I often find poetry and myth can capture the essence of the Tides.

The following are my ritual poems for the major Tides over the last year, from Samhain to Samhain, showing a cycle I saw grow up throughout the year. Each poem fed the next and the next, creating a myth cycle. The dates given are the most common modern dates, or there about. Each actually spreads over three days, but the Tides of each grow before that date and fade after, and reach High Tide at different times in different places, and are also influenced by the shorter Tides of the moon and longer Tides of the sun, so the dates given are for reference only, to make the cycle more clear. The names of the Tides given are not necessarily the names everyone uses, but the ones I most commonly use in my practice.

(The Year Draws Nigh – Samhain 10/31/2011)

As darkness fall, the veil thin,
The year is drawing nigh.
Shadows lengthen, gather strength,
The year is drawing nigh.
The dead they stir, and look around,
The year is drawing nigh.
Tonight they walk, tonight they dine,
The year is drawing nigh.
The sinks down, she’s dying now,
The year is drawing nigh.
Beneath the hills, the dying sun,
The year is drawing nigh.
Hollow hills, they open wide,
The year is drawing nigh.
Faerie folk, the mighty dead,
The year is drawing nigh.
Samhain’s fires, burning bright,
The year is drawing nigh.
To dance around, in death’s embrace,
The year is drawing nigh.
Ancestors dead, some long gone,
The year is drawing nigh.
We tip a glass, we place a plate,
The year is drawing nigh.
Death stands up, tonight he reigns,
The year is drawing nigh.
In darkness strong, the dying year,
The year is drawing nigh.
The revelers grow deathly quiet,
The year is drawing nigh.
All knees bend and all tongue stilled,
The year is drawing nigh.
For Death takes all and all will come,
The year is drawing nigh.
The Gates of Death, they open wide,
The year is drawing nigh.
His face you meet, at Death’s great doors,
The year is drawing nigh.
A friend, a judge, a lover, a blade,
The year is drawing nigh.
His embrace is sweet, but deathly cold,
The year is drawing nigh.
In love he strips you, bone from bone,
The year is drawing nigh.
Nothing left, you pass beyond,
The year is drawing nigh.
The veil it parts, the doors swing wide,
The year is drawing nigh.
Your last strong breath, last orgasm,
The year is drawing nigh.
And through you go, to what’s beyond,
The year is drawing nigh.
But Death’s great doors and Life’s fair doors,
The year is drawing nigh.
What’s dead and gone, will be reborn,
The year is drawing nigh.
A new breath breathed, a new day dawns,
The year is drawing nigh.
Death to Life, he takes your hand,
The year is drawing nigh.
All is gone, but all in new,
The year is drawing nigh.
The new dawn’s sun, in the east,
The year is drawing nigh.
The cold it flees, the shadows hide,
The year is drawing nigh.
Dark Samhain’s night to new year’s light,
The year is drawing nigh.
What was dead has come again.

(The Throne of Bone – Winter Solstice 12/22/2011)

Darkest night and shortest day,
Shadows reign and darkness calls,
The shadowy figure of Death stands by,
Patiently waiting for all to fall.

Each child born will surly die,
None is spared and all know why,
At Death’s bone throne each one will come,
He needn’t search for all will come.

The sun sets earlier for half the year,
Night grows longer, shadows strive,
The year he ages as do all,
Growing weaker, growing frail.

The time draws near when he will die,
The year we’ve loved so hard to watch,
The mourners all do gather round,
For letting go is the hardest task.

With the sun, the year does set,
Sinking down into the grave,
Like each man, he bows his knee,
And presents himself at the throne of bone.

In his birth we knew he’d die,
For every beginning contains the end,
We watched him grow like a new born lamb,
We watch him die at the Slaughterer’s hand.

Every beginning has it’s end,
But every ending is born again,
With Dawn’s first light like the Morning Star,
The new year rises and live once more.

Fresh and hopeful, full of life,
The year reborn begins his flight,
We watch him stretch and try his wings,
We glory that he lives again.

Forgetting the grief and sorrow past,
We pretend he didn’t see Death’s own face,
With the new year, we fly away,
Trying to forget our own mortality.

(The Call – Bride’s Day 2/1/2012)

As the metal hare settles to sleep,
The water dragon stretches and stirs,
The world serpent around the world,
A curled serpent in a cave,
Slowly stirring, his coils spread,
In the underworld he’s made his nest,
And waited through the coldest time,
Darkling serpent, shining snake,
His head he raises and starts to move,
Crawling forth on fair Bride’s day,
Up the Well of Worlds he comes,
Across the Veil from world to world,
He hears the call of a thousand flames,
Candles lit and fires bright,
The heat, the light, it calls him forth,
Through deepest dark and waters cold,
Up he crawls, reborn from death,
Cthonic darkling, to worlds above,
Ravens dance the dance of death,
And flames the flicker, the spark of life,
The Bride she calls, the serpent comes,
Reborn and new, the strange Horned Child,
And a ring around the moon.

(Reborn from Down Below – Spring Equinox 3/20/2012)

Two months he swam,
Up through the well,
His scales flashing in the dark.

Twisting, turning,
Swimming, soaring,
Through the Veil of Worlds.

Into the light,
He pokes his head,
Sun flashing of his scales.

Reborn at least,
After Winter’s grave,
Reborn from down below.

Two months ago,
He heard the call,
His Bride invoked his name.

And now he rises,
From the grave,
To live and love again.

Heat of sun,
In Spring’s cold wind,
Coiled on a rock.

Prepare he does,
For May’s fine feast,
And Marriage to his Bride.

(The Risen Lord and Laughing Queen – Beltaine 5/1/2012)

The wakened sleeper clothed in gold,
Warmed with Spring and rising sun,
Draped in green and newborn leaf,
Who once had died but rose again.

Golden scales and raven hair,
Skin of blue and feathers fair,
Who began a journey by candler’s flame,
And rose in glory in first leaf’s show.

In comes his Bride the fair Corn Maid,
Whose blackened veil now glowing white,
Grass stains on her small bare feet,
And bloodied sword upon her back.

The dancers dance and singers sing,
Risen lord and laughing queen,
The snow has melted and green grows strong,
Winter then Spring give way to sun.

Veil of white over golden hair,
A cotton dress with playful tears,
Small feet dance as if on air,
She laughs in joy at his peacock flair.

Round they spin just like the year,
Celebrating life and new found love,
Love reborn from past the grave,
Youth and Maiden, lust and joy.

The time has come to start again,
A marriage feast and strong bond hands,
New life, new love, all is born,
Eternal love, past Death’s cold hand.

Around the pole the ribbons fly,
Dancing round in lustful fun,
In honor to the fair Corn Maid,
And Peacock Lord reborn again.

(From Blessed Womb and Serpent’s Seed – Summer Solstice 6/20/2012)

Summer’s heat has come again,
And with it a growing womb.
The union formed of May’s young flowers,
Begins to start to show.
The risen lord’s seed runs strong,
The laughing queen was ripe.
In summer’s heat, her sweat is sweat,
The warmth that forms within.
She smiles sweetly in Solstice sun,
Spring’s rain fades away.
The white veil gone, her golden hair,
Darkens to chestnut brown.
New moon’s time, a darkened moon,
A bonfire burning high.
The dancers dance, round and round,
A fever burning high.
The Horned King sits close by her side,
His smile as big as hers.
The summer sun it rises bright,
Round like her growing womb.
The moon moves on and starts to grow,
Just like her unborn Child.
Summer’s heat has come again,
And with it a growing womb.
The womb will grow to harvest time,
The Child that will be born.
From blessed womb and serpent’s seed,
The Mother of all life.

(A Child of Blood – Lugh’s Day 7/30/2012)

A child is born,
A child is given,
On the feast in fair Lugh’s name.

A child of light,
A child of blood,
A Horned Child is given birth.

Well of the Womb,
Water and darkness,
Born into the bright light of day.

Shining fair,
A Hunter born,
Of starlight and mystic earth.

Hunter and hunted,
Herder and rancher,
An animal both wild and free.

Born for the sword,
Born for the bow,
Born to be the Winged Serpent’s death.

A child is born,
A child is given,
On the feast in fair Lugh’s name.

A child of light,
A child of blood,
A Horned Child is given birth.

(A Mortal Wound – Autumn Equinox 9/22/2012)

The Horned Child rises ever strong,
Like a mighty angel with a sword of steel,
He ventures forth in search of prey,
Looking for a Serpent with feathered wings,
He finds him then, near end of life,
The Winged Serpent weak, while the Child is strong,
He stalks his prey desiring the kill,
He takes his time for the hour is nigh,
In the early snow, he finds the trail,
The autumn’s chill soon slows the snake,
The Child approached, so full of faith,
Of how this will end, of what’s at stake,
He raises his sword and makes the blow,
A mortal wound that can’t be healed,
But the time is short, and has not come,
The Wounded Serpent does get away,
The Child was wrong, the death wasn’t sure,
But he trudges one, still on the trail.

(The Hunter’s Lamb – Samhain 10/31/2012)

On a black altar on All Soul’s Night,
The Wounded Serpent makes last call,
He will not go down without a fight,
But he knows not enough will be hid all,
He howls defiance to the coming night,
But the Gates are open, he can hear the call,
The Horned Child pauses, about to strike,
He wants this death, he wants this fight,
A raised high sword, like a lightning flash,
But he’s still too slow for he missed the point,
A female figure all dressed in black,
A blood red veil, and a living knife,
With one fell slash, she takes a life,
Who was once her groom, now a sacrifice,
Blue blood runs from the Serpent’s throat,
His time is down, it is time to rest,
And with a knife still wet and a heavy heart,
She takes the arm of the fair Horned Child,
She leads him off to be the light,
Through winter’s darkness and the coldest night,
And the Serpent rests far beneath the Well,
A fitful slumber of dreams of spring,
He’ll awake again, and swim the Well,
A groom once more to a fickle Bride,
But for now in darkness that is but a dream,
With the Horned Child the victor upon the throne,
Through winter’s blanket and the barren land,
The Lord of Beasts and the Hunter’s Lamb.

FFF,
~Muninn’s Kiss

 

The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes

As the snow covered valley slowly lights up from the new born sun, I sit here contemplating life and death, ends and beginnings, old and new, cycles within cycles, wheels within wheels.  The words of Semisonic’s song, Closing Time, echo in my memory, “every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

(Please note that this is the Winter Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere, but the Summer Solstice in the Southern Hemisphere, which much different associations and implications.)

Many, many holidays that are celebrated can be seen as new years.  Samhain marks the end of any possibility of harvest in the British Isles.  It truly is the beginning of the dark fallow time of winter, despite most modern calendars proclaiming today as the first day of winter.  On that night in Ireland, all lights were extiguished and New Fire was brought to light and heat the houses through the cold Winter.  Beltaine marked the rebirth, for spring comes later most places than Imbolc and the US celebration of the Ground Hog, reflecting the much older custom of the serpent emerging in February.  Beltaine, an ultimate fertility festival, celebrated the return of life after that long fallow winter.

In the far north of Europe, where harvest comes at Midsummer, Midsummer marked the beginning of the raiding season, when the men went to sea.  That ended before the first snows, usually long before the Autumn Equinox.  The short summer meant two very short periods, the first for farming, the second for raiding.  Planting, growing, and harvest all came within a few months.  And raiding didn’t last long before the Norse, the Swedes, and the Danes retreated back to hibernate for the long, dark, cold winter.  When you realize how long the nights are that far north and how cold, you see quickly why the Norse end of the world is marked by Winter, not fire, why the fear is that Winter will never end, why the idea of the sun and moon being consumed to no longer light the day makes perfect sense for the end.

The Chinese New Year occurs on January 23rd this year, according to the Western Gregorian calendar, basically a month from now.  The New Year always falls on the second New Moon (Dark of the Moon) after the Winter Solstice.  Since the Chinese months are lunar based and start on the New Moon, this means the New Year is always the beginning of the second month that starts after the Solstice (unless there’s an extra month that year).  On that day, this year of the Rabbit (Rabbit is actually a bad translation, it is the Year of the Hare), a year of compassion (the US didn’t get the message, obviously), creativity, and sensitivity, will give way to the Year of the Dragon, a year of dominance and ambition, of independence and raging passion, of innovation and bravery.  Lanterns are lit to celebrate the New Year.

The Hebrew calendar has two New Years, one ecclesiastical, i.e., the religious New Year, and the other secular, i.e., the political New Year.  The first lands on the first of Nisan.  The Hebrew months begin on the night the first crescent is visible after a New Moon (in contrast to the Islamic calendar that begin when the last crescent vanishes, and Chinese month that begins on the actually Dark Moon, half way between the Hebrew and Islamic; all three have lunar based months).  It fall on March 24th this coming year.  You’ll note this falls very close to the Vernal Equinox.  Nisan always begins the first new crescent after the Equinox.  The secular New Year falls on the first Tishrei (the seventh month starting as Nisan), and falls on Septmeber 17th this year.  Called Rosh Hashanah, the Head of the Year, this New Year falls right around the Autumn Equinox, just before it this year.

The Islamic New Year begins on the first day of Muharram and is called the Hijri New Year, because it is the day the Hijri calendar started.  The Islamic year is purely lunar, so it shifts in relation to the Gegorian calendar we’re used to.  The New Year was about a month ago, November 24th, and will be November 14th next year.  For Shai Muslims, it is a day of grief, not celebration, as it marks the day of the death of Muhammad’s grandson and his family.

So, does the New Year begin with the death of the old (like Samhain) or the birth of the new (like Beltaine)?  Does it begin with the beginning of Winter or its end?  The Winter Solstice is both.  Each night until this point gets longer and longer, and each day gets shorter.  The further north you go, the more apparent this gets.  It’s not surprising that in southern Europe, the celebrations in Winter had very little to do with death and rebirth, that the Celts, further north, focused on Samhain and Beltaine, with less focus on the Solstice, but that in the far north, only the Solstice was important.  While it was the death of the Old Sun, which had been getting shorter and shorter, it’s also the birth of the New Sun.  From this day forward, the days get longer and the nights get shorter.  The Solstice is the promise that Winter will end.  If the sun doesn’t rise, it’s Ragnarok, and we have winter and darkness for three years with no break for summer.

But the sun did rise, and the day is new, like the phoenix rising from the ashes.  “His mercies are new every morning.”  So we great the day and great the sun in new life, new light.  With the sun, we died last night.  With the sun, we were reborn this morning.  Let us go forth and not just exist, but live.  Make this New Sun, this new life, this new light, count.  Go forth and change your world!

FFF,
~Muninn’s Kiss

 

The Throne of Bone

The Throne of Bone
A Poem of the Winter Solstice
By Muninn’s Kiss

Darkest night and shortest day,
Shadows reign and darkness calls,
The shadowy figure of Death stands by,
Patiently waiting for all to fall.

Each child born will surly die,
None is spared and all know why,
At Death’s bone throne each one will come,
He needn’t search for all will come.

The sun sets earlier for half the year,
Night grows longer, shadows strive,
The year he ages as do all,
Growing weaker, growing frail.

The time draws near when he will die,
The year we’ve loved so hard to watch,
The mourners all do gather round,
For letting go is the hardest task.

With the sun, the year does set,
Sinking down into the grave,
Like each man, he bows his knee,
And presents himself at the throne of bone.

In his birth we knew he’d die,
For every beginning contains the end,
We watched him grow like a new born lamb,
We watch him die at the Slaughterer’s hand.

Every beginning has it’s end,
But every ending is born again,
With Dawn’s first light like the Morning Star,
The new year rises and live once more.

Fresh and hopeful, full of life,
The year reborn begins his flight,
We watch him stretch and try his wings,
We glory that he lives again.

Forgetting the grief and sorrow past,
We pretend he didn’t see Death’s own face,
With the new year, we fly away,
Trying to forget our own mortality.

 

The Year is Drawing Nigh, a Samhain poem

The Year is Drawing Nigh

A Samhain poem by Muninn’s Kiss

As darkness fall, the veil thin,

The year is drawing nigh.

Shadows lengthen, gather strength,

The year is drawing nigh.

The dead they stir, and look around,

The year is drawing nigh.

Tonight they walk, tonight they dine,

The year is drawing nigh.

The sinks down, she’s dying now,

The year is drawing nigh.

Beneath the hills, the dying sun,

The year is drawing nigh.

Hollow hills, they open wide,

The year is drawing nigh.

Faerie folk, the mighty dead,

The year is drawing nigh.

Samhain’s fires, burning bright,

The year is drawing nigh.

To dance around, in death’s embrace,

The year is drawing nigh.

Ancestors dead, some long gone,

The year is drawing nigh.

We tip a glass, we place a plate,

The year is drawing nigh.

Death stands up, tonight he reigns,

The year is drawing nigh.

In darkness strong, the dying year,

The year is drawing nigh.

The revelers grow deathly quiet,

The year is drawing nigh.

All knees bend and all tongue stilled,

The year is drawing nigh.

For Death takes all and all will come,

The year is drawing nigh.

The Gates of Death, they open wide,

The year is drawing nigh.

His face you meet, at Death’s great doors,

The year is drawing nigh.

A friend, a judge, a lover, a blade,

The year is drawing nigh.

His embrace is sweet, but deathly cold,

The year is drawing nigh.

In love he strips you, bone from bone,

The year is drawing nigh.

Nothing left, you pass beyond,

The year is drawing nigh.

The veil it parts, the doors swing wide,

The year is drawing nigh.

Your last strong breath, last orgasm,

The year is drawing nigh.

And through you go, to what’s beyond,

The year is drawing nigh.

But Death’s great doors and Life’s fair doors,

The year is drawing nigh.

What’s dead and gone, will be reborn,

The year is drawing nigh.

A new breath breathed, a new day dawns,

The year is drawing nigh.

Death to Life, he takes your hand,

The year is drawing nigh.

All is gone, but all in new,

The year is drawing nigh.

The new dawn’s sun, in the east,

The year is drawing nigh.

The cold it flees, the shadows hide,

The year is drawing nigh.

Dark Samhain’s night to new year’s light,

The year is drawing nigh.

What was dead has come again.