“The equinox, Mabon, brings balance to us and the world,” said Gertie. “We think of the things we are grateful for as well as the things we wish to cast aside from our lives and from ourselves. So, now, we can write on a piece of paper and cast those things we are grateful for into our hearts and that which no longer serves us up and into the flames. The cold washes them away and grants us the power to be renewed as the new year approaches.”
Gertie settled in her seat, nodding to herself as everyone took a moment.
Celeste took the longest, and we passed along the pen until it made it back to Gertie, who flung her scrap of paper into the pit first.
“I cast aside that and the many lives I have lived that are no longer serving me.”
“Chasing solitude,” Faith intoned, staring into the flames.
“Heartbreak,” added Ana.
“Perfection,” said Celeste.
“Loneliness.”
I blinked at Ryan’s simple word, brow furrowing, yet I didn’t break our circle made of words, strong and true like any incantation should be.
When no one said anything, I realized they were waiting for me. It was a rule that you need not say anything aloud. All that mattered was that your intention was in your soul.
I stared at the fire, flicking another few inches higher before flattening out again. Taking a deep breath, I let my own simple word roll off my tongue before I realized it was there as I tossed my piece of parchment into the flames.
“Uncertainty.”
Gertie’s soft eyes found mine with a gentle sense of approval. She must’ve thought I’d made some sort of decision based on her words the other night. But sadly, I didn’t cast aside my indecisiveness.
Not yet, with or without wholehearted intention.
Still, a sort of lightness seemed to drift over the group of us as we took a deep breath.
“Finally, I will pass the metaphorical wand to Faith and Ana, who will introduce the next ritual of our practice.” Gertie waved a hand toward the two women, as if lending the stage.
“I’ll be right back,” Faith said. Jumping up, she ran into the house. Quickly, she returned with a small bowl in the palms of her hands. “The rite of the pomegranate.”
The small fire of mostly embers, besides a few sparks, caught almost as bright as the color of Ryan’s hair.
He quickly cupped the tiny bowl that Faith passed around, looking down into its dark contents, fishing his seven seeds out. “I’ve never had pomegranate before.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Not that I know of.” He remained unsure. “Is it sweet or sour?”
I shook my head, taking the bowl away. He’d find out soon enough.
“The seeds of Persephone are very relevant as well as magically involved within the natural cycle of the seasons,” Faith informed, her voice giddy with knowledge we’d all heard more than once.
Ryan hadn’t, however, and that was all the encouragement Faith needed.
“Historically, eating at another’s home showed trust. It was a sort of truce or an agreement for protection for as long as you remained in the other’s land or under their roof. In Persephone’s case, it was a bit different. In the traditional story after all, after Persephone was perhaps torn away—”
“Perhaps?” Ryan’s brow furrowed.
Ana shrugged a single shoulder. “I like to think that she had a taste for the darker things in life.”
“Ana is our resident worker with the goddess Hecate,” Gertie explained across the fire, as if that would make perfect sense to Ryan. “The guardian of Persephone, who in a sense, bridged worlds.”
“Anyway,” Faith cut back into her lecture, “when Persephone was taken from this realm and into the underworld under Hades’s rule, what kept her there might have surely been her own will, but the thing that sealed the deal so no one could come after her was the seven pomegranate seeds she ate while in Hades’s care. Thus, she remained. For half of the year, we are plunged into darkness, where things lie dormant while the goddess of the underworld reigns below. When the next equinox returns—Imbolc—so does the goddess of spring to this realm. In simple terms anyway.”
Faith paused to look at Ryan, who hastily nodded with a smile, taking it all in with good humor as well as interest.
