Brigid’s Ritual, Part 5
As a child I remember waking up every May Day to a fully decorated may pole. Draped in ribbons, evergreen branches, and cut flowers, it leaned against the fireplace in the living room, a bright invitation to Spring. Mom loved to brag about how she and Goody Gibb –her witch friend –delighted in snatching plant material in the thick of the night, sometimes right out of people’s yards.
Since then I have, likewise, marked May Eve every year, although I always fell short of my mother’s stealthy looting of greenery and blooms in the wee hours. In various pagan circles over the years, we celebrated with may poles. I insisted on it. Once I talked a bunch of convicts at a high security federal prison to dance on May Day around a pole. They knew me from my monthly visits as a chaplain, and liked me –but the leader explained to me that dancing out in the yard would not work for them. Once inside the chapel, in private, they enjoyed it. The medium and low security prisoners had less at stake in terms of reputations, and avidly celebrated the May Day dance outside. A Catholic chaplain even joined in the festivities one spring –we needed an even number of dancers and he obliged. We all laughed about that for a year. May Eve has always been a sweet extroverted holiday with nothing but good memories.
Today my partner and I tie aspiration to a may pole, each ribbon or branch a wish. First we set up the quarter altars with candles and colorful placemats. In the east the theme is yellow, for the clear air of sunrise. Fiery reds and oranges grace the south altar. The western quarter pleases the eye and slows the heart rate with the blue candle and green mat –the colors of water. At the north, brown and dark green colors remind us of the element earth. In the center of the circle, instead of a fire, we secure a may pole. Just to the side of the north altar, we drape various bright ribbons –yellows, reds, greens –on a tree limb, along with peony, iris, and spice bush blooms from our own Rosemund Haven, the name of our property and home.
We take turns tying a ribbon or a flower to the pole, and with it a fond hope. Sometimes it’s a blessing for a person or an animal. Tonight we wish my mother a continued long life. She’s our only living parent now, and the May Eve celebrant extraordinaire. At age 87 she still has the 5 foot pine branch from her Goody Gibb days, and decorates it every year to this day. We both fasten ribbons for our recently dead fathers with hopes of good fortune on their next adventures.
With a shiny red ribbon I send out an expectation for the return of reproductive rights for women in the US. The anti-abortion laws across the red states now have victims. As they get turned away from emergency rooms, women are bleeding out in parking lots, having miscarriages in waiting room bathrooms or at home, and fleeing their states. It’s horrifying. We both wish for an election outcome this year that does not include Trump or Christian nationalists. As I tie the final fragrant bloom to the top of the pole, I ask for the strength to stay and fight for our home in this backward red state –for our woods with magic circles, our garden, our elderly dogs, our many trees and water plants and perennials. We would hate to leave this place, Rosemund Haven.
The new may pole will stand on our front porch, where we listen to frogs at night, watch birds at the feeders during the day, and enjoy thunderstorms from the safety of its roof and screen. Such a comforting place to read or drink tea and talk. And now our beautiful testament to life and love –our may pole –will remind us of sanity and optimism as we face the coming months. I bring you a branch of May.
Laurel Owen, May 2024
