Gay wicca

New me, New energy. I am one of those people and as such, I honor the Old Ways abiding by gay wicca laws of nature. I worship the ever-changing cycles of the moon and the natural turnings of the seasons. The sacred ground of the earth mother we walk upon was beneath my bare feet.

I took the time to remember this blessing as a child of Gaia like all other living things, including the plants and the trees. And in the shadows of night, I heard the crickets and the chirps of mockingbirds reminding me of the Horned One, a masculine fertility deity usually depicted as half-stag, half-man responsible for sowing the seeds of vegetation.

He is the master of all wild things and keeper of the dead. He is the consort of Mother Earth as Father Sky, lord of the sun. Together gay wicca create day, night, and the seasons. I could feel the dew from the grass between my toes as I looked up at Aradia, queen of the moon, and her children—the stars.

I marveled at them, physical forms of the divine. The Gods are alive when magick is afoot. As their creations, ritual is one of our many rights. Before entering the sacred circle I had created using five outdoor Citronella candles, I had stripped down standing skyclad before my Gods as originally they had made me… naked and vulnerable.

It was time to administer my rite.

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In my hands, I took my athame, and drew it from the leather sheath, casting a circle for spiritual protection with my consecrated dagger. I lit the gay wicca spirally grooved candles sticking out of the ground, dipped atop bamboo poles. One at a time the five flames flickered to life as I called the elements directing their energies through me with the athame.

The first was Aether— the spirit, ruler of Akasha that is the ethereal nature of magick itself. Then came Air, ruler of the east and breath of life. After that was Fire, rulers of the south and passions of our soul. Succeeding them came Water, rulers of the west, and the blood in our veins.

And finally, there was Earth, ruler gay wicca the north, and our mortal bodies. The wild hunter, keeper of the forests, horned consort of the Goddess, guardian of death and resurrection, I call your spirit to my rite! You who are the ever-changing moon; the hopeful maiden, the inspired mother, and the wise crone, I call your spirit to my rite!

Your son comes before you, willing. Open for me the secret way, the pathway of intelligence, beyond the gates bound by time and space. Here where the Dagger and Grail unite, Allow me to administer your great rite. So by my will, it is done. Drinking the wine and taking it in me, I am made a child of the Goddesses and the Gods.

I am one with the divine.