The Charge of the Goddess
The following story was taken from Silver Ravenwolf's book, To Ride a Silver Broomstick. It was written by Doreen Valiente for use in Gardarian rituals. It really is a great story, It's worth the read!
It is Midsummer Night's Eve- the longest day of the year. This a unique time, full of unlimited power and mystery
You are standing in a large, secluded clearing, banked on three sides by the dark, evergreen skirts of Mother Earth. Behind you expands a rolling corn field in the cycle of infancy.
Above you hangs the moon. She is full and heavy, dripping her milk white light on the Planet below, like a mother's breast that anticipates the nurturing of a child. The remainder of the heavens expands about the glowing orb, velvety and black, pricked by a multitude of winking stars.
You take a deep breath- heavy-sweet with the odors of a cooling summer day. The field, the dark, the sounds of the night, the forest and the moon all collide in time that does not exist.
As you look around the clearing there comes the realization that you are one amoung many- old and young, robust and slender. They, as you, have come from many distant places to be here this night. A sea of faces, each barely masking the taunt anticipation behind them, utters whispers that merge with both worlds prevails.
A Hush, like the roll of a soft wave, moves across the crowd. Silently, the people form a circle. A lone cloud scuttles to greet the face of the moon and veils it's brilliance for a second.
In the darkness, man, woman and child join hands. As the light once agains filters down among the people, you hear the awed murmur of the crowd. The center of the circle, empty only moments before, is brillianty lit by the aura of a single woman.
