May I be as the one who weaves the cloth
in a forest, deep hidden.
May I sit at the work, uninterrupted.
And may I remain an outcast, if that is what it takes.
May I know the seasonal procession in my spirit and in my body,
celebrate Cross-quarters, Solstices and Equinoxes.
May each Full Moon find me looking upwards, at trees outlined on
May I hold wildflowers. May I cup them in my hand.
May I then release them, unpicked,
to live on in abundance.
May my friends be of the kind who are at ease with silence.
May they and I be innocent of pretension.
May I be capable of gratitude. May I know
that I was given joy, like mother's milk.
May I know this as my dog does, in her bones and blood.
May I speak the truth about happiness and pain
in songs that sound of the scent of rosemary,
as everyday and ancient, kitchen-herb strong.
May I not incline to self-righteousness or self-pity.
May I approach the high earthworks and the stone circles?
As fox or moth,
and disturb the place no more than that.
May my gaze be direct and my hand steady.
May my door be open to those who dwell outside wealth and fame and
May those who have never walked barefoot never find the path that
leads up to my door.
May they be lost on the labyrinthine journey.
May they turn back.
And may I sit beside the fire in Winter
and see in the glowing logs what is to come,
yet never feel the need to warn or to advise, unasked.
May I sit upon a plain wooden chair, in true contentment.
May the place where I live be as the forest.
May there be track ways where there are caves and pools and trees and
flowers, animals and birds, all known to me and revered, loved.
May my existence change the world no more nor less than the gusting of
winds, or the proud growth of trees.
For this, I go in cast-off clothes.
May I keep faith, always.
May I never find excuses for the expedient.
May I know that I have no choice, and yet still make the choice as the
song is made, in joy, and with consideration.
May I make the same choice every day, again.
When I fail, may I know forgiveness for myself.
May I dance naked, unafraid to face my own reflection.
By Rae Beth
Column: What is Pagan Music?
23 hours ago