Pray to the Moon when She is round,
Luck with you will then abound,
What you seek for shall be found
On the sea or solid ground.

Monday, April 30, 2012

Bealtaine. Not What It Used to Be.

"Beltane" by Bryan Perrin
"Beltane" by Bryan Perrin*

I had this incredibly clever, terribly humorous, bawdy story (chock full of gratuitous nudity, really!) to recount about Bealtaine. I wanted to write it to honor the festival that, for me, once was. Too bad I cannot find my copy of Green Egg Omelette. To properly recount the story, I really must reference "Lord Moonwhistle's Guide to Perfectly Wretched Ritual." 

I suppose this means I already next year's post laid out for me.

Bealtaine (for me) is not what it used to be. In fact, I realized just a few days ago that we had omitted it (without a thought) from the revamped "Wheel of the Year." Recognizing this is sad, but the fact remains that Bealtaine is one thing when you are young, cavalier & apt to shed your clothing while prancing through the forest. It is entirely another when one factors in age, children & accountability. *sigh* I do not know how to celebrate Bealtaine in a "civilized" fashion, so I gave it up.

Instead of sharing laughable folly & foibles "Of Yore," I shall share art. The watercolour (?) above is by artist Bryan Perrin. He is a very talented friend, painter, ceramicist, sacred landscaper & co-keeper of my Secret Garden. He also has beautiful, thoughtful words, which I am not at liberty to share. But, painting I shall. 

This is a postcard print of the original. The caption on the back says:
"The hawthorn's bloom marks the passing of the dark half of the year. Cattle are purified with need fire and set out for sunny pastures. Join in the dance with a land renewed in the fertile fields of May."

I read this as I set the card into the scanner early this afternoon. I looked out the window to find our winter pasture completely vacant. My bovine friends were gone -- every last one of them.

Wow. It really is Bealtaine...

During dinner, there were four young bulls outside the window. When I went to the East door, I saw mammas too. They must have been returned sometime during the late afternoon. "Hm," I said aloud to them, "maybe it isn't Bealtaine after all."

...Or, maybe it just isn't Bealtaine here.

I cut some of the long grasses by the steps, tossed them over the fence to the boldest little bull & returned to my own babies.

A blessed Bealtaine to you, friends. 
That is, if it is indeed Bealtaine wherever you may be.

* In case you were wondering: The obnoxious & unflattering copyright watermark is not on the original postcard. I am the cretin who is responsible for that tacky, yet necessary (IMHO) Photoshop transgression. I felt it was best to make sure Bryan was credited properly as I tossed his image into the ether. If you are interested in his work, not to worry, his images are not marred by any proprietary markings. You can visit his online studio here: Bryan Perrin Studio.

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