The barn is quiet and still, a few lights as possible are used to begin with.
A “balefire” should be arranged in a cauldron (if possible) The
quarters are decorated with appropriate boughs:
East – Elaine - Mistletoe
South – Tony - Holly
West – Bobbie - Ivy
North – Ashley – Yew
Circle: Is cast by HPS and HP alone.
Quarters: Are called however each quarter officer wishes and a candle lit each time
Spirit: Is invoked by HPS
Lord & Lady:
HP invokes the Lady into HPS:
Solstice night, white and still, Queen of cold and frost, white lady of winter
Silent goddess of the earth and moon I call upon you to desend into this your
priestess May she see with your eyes, speak with your voice and act with your
wisdom So mote it be! <she lights white altar candle>
HPS invokes the Lord into HP:
Solstice night, dark and still Lord of death and the wild hunt I call upon you
to descend into this your priest May he see with your eyes, speak with your
voice and act with your guidance So mote it be! <he lights black altar candle>
Lady: Friends, we are here on this special night of Yule, the winter solstice,
the longest night of the year, to keep faith with the old gods and honour the
turning year. The sun's power is at its weakest and the earth is silent and
barren. I am the goddess of the earth: pale and cold am I, the white lady of
winter, though not barren, for on this dark night there is life even in death
and the new sun, the child of promise, is born of me. Yet it IS a time of darkness
and with darkness comes death.
Lord: And death am I, my lady! With me you shall rest this season and learn
my mysteries. But grieve not for I am comforter and colsoler, keeper of the
halls of rest and though all must come to me at last I am the taker of neither
light nor life.
Lady: But my lord has another mantle too, for is he not also The Hunter?
Lord: Indeed I am . . and this is its season . . . come, let us sit and I will
tell you of the great wild hunt . . .
<”The Hunter” meditation>
Lady: Hark, I hear another voice on the wind . . . who approaches this night?
Holly King: It is I, my lady, the King of Holly. I seek rest and solace at last
for my time is done and my brother the Oak King has come to replace me.
<he goes to the quarters in turn>
Holly King: Spirits of the East, I thank you for the rising sun each morning
of my reign, for the fresh breath of inspiration and for your protection, but
have you peace and rest now to offer me?
East: You are welcome to our gifts, lord, but there is no rest for you here,
your journey is not yet ended.
Holly King: Then I thank you, spirits of the East, hail and farewell.
East: Hail and farewell.
Holly King: Spirits of the South, I thank you for the heat of the noontide sun
during my reign, for the strength and endurance of heat and power and for your
protection, but have you peace and rest now to offer me?
South: You are welcome to our gifts, lord, but there is no rest for you here,
your journey is not yet ended.
Holly King: Then I thank you, spirits of the South, hail and farewell.
South: Hail and farewell.
Holly King: Spirits of the West, I thank you for the rays of dwindling sun in
the twilight of my reign, for the anceint streams which have quenched my thirst,
for your wisdom and protection, but have you peace and rest now to offer me?
West: You are welcome to our gifts, lord, but there is no rest for you here,
your journey is not yet ended.
Holly King: Then I thank you, spirits of the West, hail and farewell.
West: Hail and farewell.
Holly King: Spirits of the North, I thank you for the midnight sun at the end
of my reign, for the steadfastness and silence and for your protection, but
have you peace and rest now to offer me?
North (Death): You are welcome to the gifts of the north, lord, but the spirits
of this quarter cannot bring you rest. However I, Death, can offer you the comfort
that you seek. Come, leave your burdens behind and dwell in my lands. Let our
lady heal and refresh you through the dark of the winter.
Holly King: Thank you, my lord.
<he takes him away, maybe under/behind a black cloth while he changes his
crown for that of the oak king>
Lady: And so ends the reign of the Holly King. So mote it be. Hark, who now
approaches?
Oak King: It is I, the King Of Oak and by my right I claim my throne this night.
<he approaches the quarters in turn>
Oak King: Hail spirits of the East. I greet you at the dawn of my reign!
East: Hail, lord. We greet you also and offer you the fresh breath of inspiration
for your reign.
Oak King: I thank you, spirits of the East, so mote it be.
Oak King: Hail spirits of the South. I greet you now and look forward to the
noonday sunshine of my reign.
South: Hail, lord. We greet you also and offer you strength and power for your
reign.
Oak King: I thank you, spirits of the South, so mote it be.
Oak King: Hail spirits of the West. I greet you now and will do so again when
the twilight of my reign comes at last.
West: Hail, lord. We greet you also and offer you tides of wisdom for your reign.
Oak King: I thank you, spirits of the West, so mote it be.
Oak King: Hail spirits of the North. I greet you now and know you at the beginning
and end of my reign.
North: Hail, lord. We greet you also and offer you contemplation and reflection
for your reign.
Oak King: I thank you, spirits of the North, so mote it be.
Lady: And with the arrival of the Oak King we should, as all good pagans, give
thanks for the reign of the Holly King, feast and toast both brothers and sisters,
the newborn sun king, the white goddess of winter, death, the hunter and all
the old gods! But first, as in older days, with the harvest long gathered in,
the breeding stock safe or slaughtered and cured it would be a time for tales
around the fire and so, my friends, does anyone have a poem or a thought they
would like to share. . .?
<poem: “The Hunt’s Goal”>
Cakes & Ale
Quarters
Spirit
Lord & Lady
Circle
The Hunter - A Meditation For Yule
Sit still, my friends, be silent and listen . . listen to the wintry winds whistling
and wailing outside . . imagine yourself outside, smell the frost in the air
as the icy gusts swoosh over the pale white snow on the ground . . . take yourself
outside, into the cold, still world, under the silvery moonlight . . .
follow the wind, my friends, follow the icy wind down the path, along the lane,
through the sleeping landscape, by the dark hedgerows and out to the frozen
fields, the soft, undulating folds of land . . . ride the wind, feel its chill
grip lift you up and raise your head into its cold teeth . . look for the trees,
the distant woods, beckoning to you from far away . . go with the wind, its
sting against your face as you fly over the fields . . <pause> When you
come to the woods allow the wind to set you down, Feel your feet touch the ground
now as the wind dies away . . .see how the woods welcome you. . the stark black
trunks of the trees part to show you the way into the forest, the virgin snow
underfoot and . .oh . . the moonlight! . . so pale and beautiful as she bathes
the whole scene with pale silver-blue light forming itself into pools on the
frozen ground between the trees. . . Draw in breath now, my friends, feel the
crisp air fill your throat . . . stand in the moonlight and concentrate on your
body, the cold on your face, your heart pumping in your chest, find the pulse,
the life that flows around your body and listen to it beat its rhythm: thump
thump thump thump thump . . . feel it in your ears, each pulse stronger as you
are drawn to enter the woods at last . . thump thump thump thump . .. the twisting
paths that draw you in and urge you to run, to race over the icy ground and
through the trees in the moonlight . . . thump thump thump thump . . . your
heartbeat quickens . . thump thump thump thump and you feel the blood pounding
through your body . .and no, as you can hold back no more . . you are off! Running
through the trees, tearing through the moonlit woods with your heart beating
in your lungs and the glorious cold on your face . . thump thump thump THUMP!
The trees lash at your face but you charge on, recklessly throwing all of your
energy into running, THUMP THUMP THUMP! Feel your life energy racing through
your veins and you can barely help but howl wildly in exhilaration . . .you
fly over the ground, THUMP THUMP THUMP! the wind roaring in your ears when suddenly
you hear an answering howl, rising on the wind, distant but closing in and you
can feel a presence around you . .there are others! THUMP THUMP THUMP! They
run with you, you are one of many, all beating hearts and straining muscles
as you fly through the moonlit woods, THUMP THUMP THUMP! a great and glorious
pack of hunters running relentlessly on calling and whooping with the thrill
of the chase . . . THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP and faster now, almost flying over
the frozen ground running in the glory of the great wild hunt, running for the
joy of running with your breath straining in your lungs until your lungs can't
take the air in and you feel like you are falling forward . . . and then you
taste it in your mouth, the hot, salty hunger THUMP THUMP THUMP! and before
you know what you're doing you are on the ground, in the snow on top of your
quarry and there is dark warm blood before you, fresh on the pale virgin snow,
dark like a shadow . . and now there is silence save the thump of life in your
ears. . the rest of the hunt has moved on, leaving you alone but elated, exhilarated
with the kill you have made! And in the stillness you give silent thanks to
the old gods for your life and your freedom . . your freedom to run with the
wild hunt, to live and be at peace with the earth, the moon and, later in the
year, the sun who is born again on this night. As you kneel and recover yourself
you may be surprised and delighted to learn the answer to a question that has
been on your mind of late. [Pause]. As you come back from your contemplations
take a last look around, lift up your head and see the woods one more, the beautiful,
silent, moonlit trees and enjoy the scene for a moment before it starts to fade
away and you return, in your own time to the circle . . but remember always
the night you ran with the wild hunt and me, its master, for I am the hunter!
The Hunt's Goal
Heart beast fast in the frozen night,
The air burns the lung,
There is no rest from the frenzied flight
No moisture on the tongue.
Rational thought is a stranger now
The blood pouds in the ear,
Sweat becomes ice upon the brow
Like silent winters' tears.
The baying is heard and gaining fast,
There is no time to pause,
For their arrival is here at last,
With teeth and rending claws.
Into the clearing the riders burst
With yells and eyes afire.
And all who hear will think them cursed
For death is their desire.
With feral snarls and tearing teeth
"Upon the king we fall
To tear and rend the flesh beneath",
This is the wild hunts' call.
So does the Lord of the Greenwood die
At winters' turning,
To keep his promise to the land
Of summer sun returning.