Brigid’s Ritual, Part 3

My partner and I sit on our bench in the woods. We inhale the early green smell of spring and relish the mysterious in-between moment –when day meets night at dusk-dark, and when day and night are equal. It’s the spring equinox. Before us the crossroads mark the start of two diverging paths, each ending at a ritual circle. We hug each other and take separate paths. Mine leads around a pine tree, and drops me at the north entrance of my Druid circle. A limestone, almost my height, marks the spot. I linger here at the portal, in a time outside of time, a place of balance. Just for a few minutes the harmony inherent in equal day and night washes over me. Chaos gets put off for now. In time, I ring a small bell, step into the circle, and approach the eastern stone.

The element of air presides in the east, representing clear thoughts, new beginnings, morning, and springtime. The ability to see through falsehood, to honor truth –this I aspire to. Sifting through the sheer volume of information today includes rejection of disinformation and hyperbole –and the talent to decipher. May rational thinking inform me.

Next I arrive at the south quarter. Here the power of fire, of summer, and midday rule. Bravery leaps to mind —standing up to bullies, resisting Christian nationalism. The commitment I make here is to love life fiercely enough to fight for it.

As I move to the west, the sun has almost set. The limestones in the four quarters appear luminous in the half-dark. The power of the west ebbs and flows with water. It symbolizes the undercurrents in life. Emotions under the surface go unseen and ignored at our peril. Let my feelings and intuition not be enemies, but reminders of delight, that instant pang when a song brings a memory to the fore. May the inner voice warn me of danger, and let me not be afraid –even if the lights go out– knowing darkness is temporary.

Finally I come to the north, the quarter of our cherished home in the multiverse –planet earth herself. I stand, grateful for this earthly sacred life. Climate change and wars of aggression across the globe threaten us all. May I walk mindfully and with purpose as a guardian of our treasure. May we all learn to hold dear our continents, oceans –and all life forms in the mix. Inspired by a sense of balance, as the equinox points to, may we build a kinder, more rational world together.

And now the door leading back into the world stands in front of me, the prospect of everyday life. Renewed and calm, aware of the challenge ahead, I step out. My partner and I meet at the bench, a creation from his metal shop. Regal, with its Celtic design work and tall back, it’s surprisingly comfortable. We talk until the dark envelopes us. Our herding rescue dog barks nervously, reminding us of schedules and routines. We walk back up to the house to put him at ease.

Earlier today my anxiety mirrored that of my dog. A video featured a white Christian nationalist named Nick Fuentes. He told his followers that when the nationalists take power, magic and ritual practitioners will be put to death. He said we’re worse than Jews and immigrants. Now, as I channel clear thinking, it’s easy to dismiss Fuentes as a maladjusted incel and fanatic. But my intuition warns me not to ignore such people. Front and center of the mass psychosis called Trumpism lurks a religious fervor devoid of rationality or true spiritual depth. The adherents think Trump is a Christ-like savior. Again, easy to dismiss. Trump has scores of felony indictments, is liable for sexual assault and fraud, and tells lies like most of us breathe. He’s a criminal, a confidence man. Unbelievably, the republican party is now full of cult members. Trump loyalists, swept up in this madness, currently dominate red state legislatures. In their bid to enforce minority rule, they attack voting rights and enact cruel laws against women and LGBTQ people. The connection between extremists and republicans is sealed. Indeed, Nick Fuentes dined with Trump on Thanksgiving in 2022. No, pagans won’t face execution. Not now. But if Trump is elected, the lights of democracy will go out. Freedom will diminish, and all manner of persecutions may well unfold.

I shake off the horror of religious nationalists and authoritarian charlatans –and smile. It’s card night with the neighbors. I have a bet with one of them. He says Trump will win. I say no. Americans will vote the power-hungry zealots and their poisonous leader back to obscurity. People like Nick Fuentes can shout all they want into the void, as is their right. Their opinions won’t threaten anyone –they won’t matter. My neighbor and I know our bet is a joke. We both want me to win. The loser has to buy two pizzas for a card game. I already told him I’ll take two cheese and tomato with fresh basil.

Laurel Owen, April, 2024