As I have mentioned before, this year I will be blogging about the Neo-Pagan festivals of the eight points of the ‘Wheel of the Year’, celebrations shared by Wiccans, Druids, and some other Neo-Pagan paths, based off four solar festivals which, being based on celestial events, are common celebrations many cultures (the two solstices and two equinoxes), and the four ‘fire festivals’ or ‘cross quarters’, which are tied to folk festivals of Britain and western Europe. The Vernal Equinox is when day and night are equal, in spring. Many Neo-Pagans celebrate it as ‘Ostara’, named after a celebration mentioned by the chronicler ‘the venerable Bede’, and which may be named after a Germanic dawn goddess, and which is likely the root-word for ‘Easter’ in English (most other languages have a name deriving from ‘Pascha’). I just celebrate it as the Vernal Equinox.
Full Equinox altar.
I think I do the Equinox a bit differently from many Neo-Pagans as I don’t incorporate rabbits, hens and eggs. Neo-Pagans now regard these as fertility symbols, and I think that’s a very valid perspective, but their association with Easter had more to do with which food were restricted during Lent – meat was forbidden, as were eggs and dairy (Thomas Aquinas wrote against consuming these), and so of course once the fast was broken on Easter, people wanted to consume them. Lambs are very much an important Christian symbol, with Jesus as the Lamb of God, and I can’t help but think of the rather beautiful Pre-Raphaelite inspired mural that graced a church I used to go to of the adoration of the lamb when I see lambs in a religious context. My rejection of these symbols because of their Christian (and particularly Catholic) associations is not a protestation against Christianity or an act of my disliking Christianity, more that I wish to separate my current faith from my old faith, and I feel awkward doing things that remind me too much of Christianity; I feel like I’m misappropriating, or somehow trying to Paganise things, which may or may not be a valid concern or just a manifestation of my anxiety and over-thinking.Instead of these animal symbols, I prefer floral ones – picking what is in bloom in my garden at the time. I don’t rear chickens, rabbits or sheep, so it seems a bit disconnected for me to celebrate lambing (which is often quite a bit before Easter in the UK, anyway), or their lifecycle in relation to the agricultural year. The birds nesting in my garden are more seasonally appropriate to me than chickens. [Interestingly, chickens need about 12 hours of daylight to signal the summer period for laying eggs – so the Equinox is actually directly relevant to chickens. Some will lay in winter even without an appropriate light source, but egg production goes up with daylight hours. I do, however, grow flowers (and vegetables, herbs, etc.) so I feel more personally connected to flowers.
Another photograph of the altar as a whole Daffodils
You can see on my altar a bunch of hyacinths and daffodils in the centre. I changed my altar set-up from its Imbolc set up to this pre-Equinox set up at the start of March, and it is definitely geared more to a visual celebration of the changing seasons and the greenery and flowers of spring. Daffodils and hyacinths are both poisonous to cats, but this set-up was before Archimedes arrived, and was dismantled before Archimedes left his acclimatisation period in the spare room, with any pollen hoovered up.I have two altar cloths again, layered over each other. The bottom altar cloth is a printed light green one with a leafless tree, an image that makes me think of a tree about to spring into life, rather than a dead tree. The upper altar cloth is actually a vintage table-runner I bought on eBay because it reminded me of my grandmother’s handicrafts. She used to make things very similar to this, and as the item seems entirely handmade, I can picture someone else’s grandmother making this the same way. I wish I had inherited some of my grandmother’s embroidery, but I was a child when she passed, and did not end up with anything like that. I found some daffodil doilies secondhand that I tend to use for tea-parties, but I put one under each of the candle-holders to protect the altar cloth from any wax drips that ran off the candle-holders, because it is an old and fragile embroidery, sold to me as being from the ’50s, and I don’t want to damage it. The embroidered flowers are somewhat stylised, but they remind me of marigolds, which are currently flowering in my garden.
Daffodil doilies to protect vintage altar cloth.
The wreath at the back is a hand-made house decoration some students at my college were selling as a charity fundraiser. It has lovely spring colours, so I use it as an altar decoration each year. I really like using circular symbols for solar festivals, simultaneously representing the sun and the cycle of the seasons. I don’t have space on my altar for both the pentagram candle-holder and the wreath, so the pentagram candle holder has been moved to in front of our fireplace. To represent the elements, there is a jar candle on the altar; it has five layers in different colours, made from the melted down stubs of past elemental candles used on our altar.
Pink candle, daffodils, wreath, Goddess censer
The left side of the altar is used primarily for the symbols traditionally associated with the Goddess in Wicca once again as with my ::Imbolc altar::, but this isn’t a strict attribution. Incense is used to symbolise the element of Air (and to be burnt as an offering, and to create a ritualistic atmosphere through scent), and many traditions see Air as a masculine element, associated with ‘masculine’ attributes, but I don’t see the point in gendering an element, or even more so of gendering characteristics like logic, clarity of thought, communication, etc. I have an incense holder with a Neo-Pagan style Goddess figure holding up the incense censer, but that does not mean I see the element of air as feminine, either; I just like the figure as a sculpture representing the divine feminine, and it happens to also be a perfectly good censer at the same time – I have another incense burner that is a pentacle (visible in the photographs of the full altar). I think it’s probably a bit cliché to attribute pink to the divine feminine – especially as a girl that hated the colour pink growing up – but I chose it to represent Bloduweudd, who was made of flowers, specifically oak, broom and meadowsweet.. Now, I somehow thought oak flowers were light pink, which I am quite wrong about; they’re a greenish yellow. Broom flowers are yellow, and meadowsweet flowers are white, so I would have probably done better with a pale yellow candle, in retrospect!The daffodil picture is not a Goddess symbol at all, it is actually a card I gave Raven for St. David’s Day – the saint day for the welsh patron saint, who is St. Dewi in Welsh. St. David’s Day is seen more as a national celebration than as a Celtic Saint’s day by many, including Raven. I have mentioned before that he is Welsh-Irish. Daffodils are Wales’ national flower; the national plant symbol is a leek, and daffodils are ‘cennin Pedr’ or Peter’s leeks in Welsh, which is presumably where the connection comes in between the two plants. Anyway, the card was placed on the altar as another mark of the passing seasons, and a nod to Raven’s Welshness. I have a light green candle to represent the Green Man, a vegetative spirit (or even deity to some) that I associate with the changing seasons as visible through plant life. New spring leaves are slowly emerging, light and vibrant, not yet darkened to the richness of summer. I light the pink candle when invoking the divine feminine, and light the green candle when invoking the divine masculine. The central, multicolour candle is represented of the divine as simultaneously transcendent of material existence and immanent within it. I am a pantheist that sees individual deities as spiritual aspects or manifestations of the greater divine that is in all things, and that candle made of all colours seems like a good representation of that. It is a lovely hand-made textured candle, but I can’t remember where I bought it. I think it might be from ‘The Maker’s Mark’ in Newcastle Emlyn, but it could be even older – a souvenir from a lovely witchy shop I found behind a record shop in Henley on Thames over a decade ago. I have kept it safe in my wicker basket store of candles for a long time, but felt like this is the right time to burn some of it. I must admit I’m sort of clingy about candles, and don’t like burning the prettiest ones, especially all in one go – I want to stretch it out so I can appreciate them for longer! Quite silly when candles are intrinsically transient, made to be burnt. Perhaps I’m a sentimental fool.Ceramic cauldron over tealight.
The blue cauldron hanging over a flame is Raven’s. It’s meant as an oil-burner, but as many oils are toxic to cats, we are no longer using the oil burners for their true purpose. However, watching the water evaporate off as misty vapour is rather aesthetic, so I am still putting water in them. We will need to look further into what oils can and can’t be used around cats, as we don’t want to poison Archimedes. I chose this blue cauldron to represent the element of water on my altar. It’s purpose is more symbolic than practical for my Equinox ritual, unlike the bigger copper cauldron I used as a temporary planter, and as a receptacle for any drips after I watered my snowdrops from the Well of the Spotted rock for Imbolc.
Marigold and salt in pentacle dish.
I have a carved stone dish for salt, to represent the element of Earth. It is interesting that salt is what we use when ‘salting the earth’ is something done to make it infertile. Salt is sometimes used for drawing a circle on the floor, but I think that’s a waste of good salt. I am thinking of replacing the salt-as-Earth-representation with sand, fine gravel or soil. Salt as ritual ingredient is still useful, but I associate it more with sea-salt (I know rock-salt exists) and the ocean, and I want to change things around that I no longer connect with. Neo-Paganism is -in general – quite a flexible path, and while we practice similar things, there is room to alter things in accordance with what works best for us. We’re a non-dogmatic religion, with each Pagan being their own Priest or Priestess. We tend to be closer to orthopraxic (‘right practice’) than orthodoxic (‘right doctrine’) in that we are more connected by ritual practice than theology or cosmology, but even within ritual practice there is plenty of scope for variation.
I hope this blog entry has been useful and informative as an example of one Pagan witch’s practice. There’s a lot more I could say about each thing, but I think I am rambling on quite a bit already. As I have said before – I’m just one person, and I will do things differently to other witches and other Pagans, but I don’t consider myself much of an outlier in terms of my practices. I am doing this to counter some of the stereotypes about Neo-Paganism and witchcraft – especially those about it being a dark or evil practice. Most of what I do is making a ritual of ways to connect to the natural world and changing seasons; mine is definitely an Earth-based spirituality. My regular readers might be surprised at the colours – especially green wall paneling in my ritual space, and plenty of yellow and pastels for this seasonal celebration, but I don’t think my religious practice necessarily has to reflect my Gothic aesthetic – some of it does, especially my work with the Morrigan and Her aspect as Badb, and with the Cailleach of winter – and these are things you will see on my Samhuinn altar and my altar in the ‘Dead Time’ between Samhuinn and Winter Solstice, but for the rest of the year, the colours reflect the seasons more than they reflect me – after all, my spiritual practice is more there to connect me better with nature, rather than for me to express my personal style or aesthetic.The pentacle shelving unit is by CAS Design and I reviewed it ::here::