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One of the loveliest things about a full moon is that you can reap the benefits of it for three days leading up to it, and three days after. Especially this summer, when so many of us are booked solid socially, it can be a relief to know that you can still practice magick and soak up the moonbeams on more than one night of the week. One of the simplest rituals that I enjoy practicing is to open up a shade and a window where I can see the moon and feel it shining down on me. I close my eyes and bask in the moonglow. If you have some nice bike paths in your neighborhood, fill up the tires, put on your helmet, and turn on the lights for a leisurely full moon bike ride.

THE HOLLY MOON

This is the time of the season where even if we blissfully ignore it, our bodies sense the shift and harvest about to happen August 1st. (For some fun ideas to celebrate Lammas/Lughnasadh, consider a small bread baking party.) We will start going inward in our minds, even while we are still able to enjoy the often- beautiful weather outdoors. For many traditions, the Holly King is reigning for now, and the dark half of the year is his time. This isn't a reason to be sad, just perhaps more introspective. Take more time out to meditate. Think about what you'd like to manifest yet before this year comes to a close and jot it down in your journal. Or noodle out a spell in your Book of Shadows to help bring your goals to life. This can be a period of planning and preparation. You can also enjoy a Corn Moon celebration later in the month—if you can squeeze it in!

A worldly empire does not provide safety. There is only the Great Void. It is my safety. It is the Goddess’ nurturing and loving Self.

A possible problem when pursuing success, in business or your personal life, is a false sense that you’re building an empire in which you will find safety. There is no secure empire, there is only the Great Void. And it is the one secure Empire.

Was I ever excited when my copy of Lady Sheba's Book of Shadows arrived by mail. I was going to learn the Secret Ceremonies of the Witches.

Gods, was I ever disappointed.

Not long after, I became an overseas member of the Pagan Movement in Britain and Ireland. An important part of the newsletters that they sent out eight times annually were accounts of the rituals that they'd done.

But these weren't the bare-bones outlines of the Book of Shadows, lists of words and actions. These were stories. They told not only what was done and said, but what it was like to be there.

I was in love.

There are two primary ways to write about ritual. If you stick around this blog long enough, you'll see examples of both. One is the Book of Shadows way: the outline, the script, the list of words spoken and actions done.

The other way is the Pagan Movement way: the story.

Both genres are important. Both, in fact, are necessary. But they're not the same thing, and they serve different purposes.

A priest and priestess that I know had taken their newest student on an outing to Chicago's biggest occult bookstore.

At the center of one display was a beautiful leather-bound volume, hand-embossed in gold with a pentacle, and the portentious title: Book of Shadows.

The student's mouth fell open: the secrets of the Craft, about to be revealed.

He opened the book reverently, then looked puzzled. He riffled through the pages and shook his head.

“It's empty,” he said.

My priest friend opened the book, laid his finger at the top of one of the pages, and turned to his partner.

“What does that say?” he asked.

“Drawing Down the Moon,” she read. “Whenever ye have need of anything, once in the month, and better it be when the moon is full....”

My friend turned to his mystified student.

Around 1261, the troubadour Rutebeuf (“Roast Beef”) published an early French miracle play, Le Miracle de Théophile.

Little did he know that he was about to make Wiccan history.

Based on 11^th century Christian legend, the play tells the story of Theophilus (“god-lover”) of Adana, who sells his soul to the Devil. The Devil is called up, by a sorcerer named Salatin, with a mysterious chant:

"English is the sacred language of the Witches." (Stephen Warlowe)

Every word's a story.

The vocabulary of modern Wicca, like the religion itself, is late and composite.

Wicca < Old English wicca, “magic-worker [male]” That the word retains its Anglo-Saxon form and has been both redefined and re-pronounced (OE pronunciation: witch-ah) shows that this is a modern, not a continuous, usage.

Athame < Med. French atamer, “to cut”

Skyclad < Loan-translation (19th c.) of Sanskrit digambara, "dressed in air"

Coven < Latin

Sabbat < Latin < Hebrew. Murray's frolicsome s'esbattre derivation is non-historical. The term is a wholesale and hostile borrowing from Jewish vocabulary; compare yet another Trial Era name for the witch-meeting, the “synagogue of Satan.”

These two last are both clearly "words from without." What, one wonders, would be our "words from within"?