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Invoking the Holly King
With these ancient carols, we do again sing
He who is called Father Christmas is returning yet again
As the Solstice's longest night has finally begun
We await you, Santa Claus, Lord of Winter
To honor you on this day that you always were
Saint Nicholas, patron of children on Gaia's sphere
This invocation, we pray you do hear
Come bless us, upon this season of the Yuletide
Great Holly King as you fly upon your sleigh ride
Whether your gifts to us be physical or spiritual
We know that they will always be most magical
Grateful, because we know your blessings' great worth
We offer a blessing of our own --- Peace on Earth!
by Ginger Strivelli
Renewal
winter pounces
sinking its fangs into the gentle flesh of the earth,
paralyzing it.
frozen.
the world grinds to a halt
the north wind flies unleashed,
howling fury.
the God is dead.
given up his life in the last harvest.
the Goddess stands alone
mourning his passing with every moon
awaiting the return of the Sun Lord
with the gentle coming of spring.
by Lief Elder
Yule
The Dark of Midwinter
Grows and spreads
Holding earth in its lifeless embrace
Beyond the barrenness
Is a time of rejoicing
A time of rest and rejuvenation
Of the stillness of rivers running below ice.
The days shorten and grow colder
Night deepens
Yet still stars dance against the furry expanse of sky
Diamond pinpoints against velvet black.
There comes the midpoint
The shortest day
The longest dark
And we rejoice
For winter's death
Soon gives way to spring
As the Balance swings again.
The Lady ceases to mourn Her beloved
Feeling the stir of new life within
Instead She rejoices
In the birth of the one
Who wil restore Her
And us.
by Julianne Toomey
On The Eve of Midwinter
On the Eve of Midwinter When all is held fast,
And sleepless we wander And ponder the past;
When cold holds its grip On our hearts and the land,
Can Springtime's sweet coming Be so close at hand?
The grip of Midwinter Is firmer than steel
And makes us all weary, Takes the taste from each meal;
The ice hangs above us And there's snow on the ground,
And cold night is coming With dark all around.
So hush, my small children, And come, my brave man
We'll comfort their crying And soothe what we can;
For the Old God is dying And the New God is late
And we're scared and uncertain And wary of Fate.
"Oh where is my Brother?" The Old God does cry,
"For unless he cometh, I shall linger, not die;
And my bones shall grow weaker For my time is at hand,
And my strength I feel failing, And so fails the Land."
Like a Hawk to its Hunter The Young God did speed,
But hampered and harried, And his poor heart did bleed,
For his Brother was dying He could taste every pain.
In his wake the snow melted And turned to Spring rain.
The Young God called, "Brother!" As he dropped to his rest,
And he cradled him gently With his head on his breast;
And the Old God smiled softly As he turned to his sleep,
While the Young God did kiss him And silently weep.
For the Young and the Old God Are one and the same,
And these bittersweet moments In such joy and such pain
Are the only brief moments That they have to be Whole,
And they live in these moments, Then they walk on, alone.
These moments consume us Like flame a dry leaf,
And burn in our bodies And waken our grief;
But time surely passes And wounds close and heal,
And surely as Springtime, Love's fire turns the Wheel.
Bright Blessings and joy follow you!
A Visit From The Yule Spirits
by Richard De Angelis
'Twas the night before Yule, when all 'cross the heath,
not a being was stirring; Pagan, faerie, or beast.
Wassail was left out & the alter adorned,
to rejoice that the Sun King soon would be reborn.
The children lay sleeping by the warmth of the hearth,
their dreams filled with visions of belov'd Mother Earth.
M'lady & I beneath blankets piled deep,
had just settled down to our own Solstice sleep.
Then a noise in the night that would leave us no peace,
Awakened us both to the honking of geese.
Eager to see such a boisterous flock,
When we raced to the window, our mouths dropped in shock!
On the west wind flew a gaggle of geese white & gray,
With Frau Holda behind them in her giftladen dray.
The figure on her broomstick in the north sky made it clear,
La Befana was approaching to bestow Yuletide cheer.
From the south came a comet more bright than the moon,
And we knew that Lucia would be with us soon.
As these spirits sailed earthward o'er hilltops & trees,
Frau Holda serenaded her feathery steeds:
"Fly Isolde! Fly Tristan! Fly Odin & Freya!
Fly Morgaine! Fly Merlin! Fly Uranus & Gaea!
May the God & the Goddess inside you soar,
From the clouds in the heavens to yon cottage door."
As soft & silent as snowflakes they fell:
Their arrival announced by a faint chiming bell.
They landed like angels, their bodies aglow.
Their feet left no marks in the new fallen snow.
Before we could ponder what next lay in store,
There came a slow creaking from our threshold door.
We crept from our bedroom & were spellbound to see
...There in our parlor stood the Yule Trinity!
Lucia, the Maiden, with her head wreathed in flame,
Shown with the radiance for which she was named.
The Lightbringer's eyes held the joy of a child,
And she spoke with a voice that was gentle, yet wild:
"May the warmth of this household ne'er fade away."
Then she lit our Yule log which still burns to this day.
Frau Holda in her down cloak stood regal & tall;
The Matron of Solstice, the Mother of all.
Under her gaze we felt safe & secure.
Her voice was commanding, yet almost demure:
"May the love of this family enrich young & old."
And from the folds of her cloak showered coins of pure gold.
Le Befana wore a kerchief on her silvery hair;
The veil of the Crone who has secrets to share.
In her eyes gleamed a wisdom only gained by spent youth
. Her voice was a whisper but her words rung with truth:
"May health, glad tidings, and peace fill these rooms."
And she banished misfortune with a sweep of her broom.
They then left a gift by each sleeping child's head,
Took a drink of our wassail, & away they sped.
While we watched them fly off through the night sky we laughed,
At the wondrous magick we had found in the Craft.
As they departed, the spirits decreed...
Merry Yule To You All & May All Blessed Be!
The First Yule
Once upon a time, long long ago, a beautiful young woman lived on a blue and green island. She had many friends on the island, fairies, trees, flowers, rabbits, deer and birds... but she was the only person who lived there.
She wanted to share her friends and her secrets with other people just like her, so she began to give birth. Every month when the moon was hiding, she gave birth.
For the first six moons she gave birth to daughters with dark skin and eyes. For the last six moons of the year she gave birth to fair skinned daughters. On the seventh moon of every year the First Mother gave birth to a magical, sacred oak tree.
As the years turned many many daughters were born, and quite a few oak trees as well. The daughters played games with the animals and each other, they climbed in the branches of the oak trees and gathered flowers with the fairies.
One day the firstborn daughter of the First Mother gave birth herself! The First Mother was very proud and happy, her favorite friend Oak tree (who was very wise) gave her a silver crown to wear and told her that she was now a GrandMother !
Soon, many of the daughters gave birth, and the island became an even happier place, full of babies and big girls and Mommies who all played together with the animals the trees and the fairies.
One winter night when the moon was hiding, one of the daughters gave birth to a baby that was different from anything they had ever known. It was not a daughter, it was not even an oak tree, it was a baby BOY!
It was a very dark cold night, the longest winter's night of the year, so all the daughters and all the animals were snuggled up together to keep cozy and warm. After their excitement of seeing a brand-new baby born passed, the daughters and the animals realized that the baby boy was not feeling well.
He was not as strong or as warm as the babies and trees that were usually born on the island. They all began to worry about the new baby, and tried to help keep him warm. The animals with the furriest coats pushed up close to the Mother and baby, the fairies sprinkled magic dust above him, and the little girls sang wonderful songs and danced around and around the room.
But the baby boy couldn't get warm enough and soon he was too cold and tired even to cry or to drink the healing milk from his Mother. The first Grandmother was so afraid for the baby boy ! She tried to hide her tears from her daughters and ran out into the forest. The snow was very deep and full of white glitter, She tried to walk, but it was just too deep. So her friend the owl carried her up above the snow filled clouds, deep into the magic forest where her firstborn, most sacred wise friend Oak lived.
The First GrandMother intended to ask Her friend for advice about the baby boy. When the owl reached the clearing where the Sacred First Oak tree lived, the GrandMother gasped!
There was no snow on the ground there, and in the middle of a perfect circle lay her Friend the Oak. The Tree had fallen to the ground and broken into a pile of logs and branches. She rushed to kneel beside the broken tree, and her teardrops turned into sparkling icicles on her cheeks.
While she was trying to understand what had happened to her dear friend, a coyote entered the circle and brushed up beside her. First the coyote kissed her tears dry, and then she whispered a secret in the First GrandMothers ear.
The GrandMother nodded, and with the help of the coyote and the owl She gathered some of the branches from her oldest friend Oak and they returned to her daughter and the baby boy.
Using the gifts from the Oak, and the secrets from the coyote, the GrandMother built the very first fire that anyone on the blue and green island had ever seen!
The fairies were shocked, they had never seen anything dance like that without wings! The animals laughed, they had never seen colors so bright except on springtime flowers. The daughters didn't know WHAT to do, they had never felt anything as warm as the summersand on the beach in the middle of winter!
The Mother brought the baby boy close to the edge of the fire, closer than everyone else (they were still just a little bit scared of this new thing called a fire). The baby boy opened his eyes just a little bit, and began to wiggle his fingers. THEN he smiled and moved his toes too. When he was warm enough he snuggled with his Mother and drank her milk, soon every one was certain the baby boy would be okay.
They were all so happy they danced around the fire singing their favorite special songs and giving little gifts to the fire.
The baby boy grew up strong and happy because of the gift of the First Oak tree. He had many sons of his own, and taught them all to plant acorns on the 7th dark moon of the year so that there would always be many many Oak trees on the island.
Every winter, on the longest coldest darkest night of the year, all the people who lived on the blue and green island built a very special fire. They brought in a special tree and honored it with shiney ornaments and glittery fairy dust. They picked one very special branch or log and sang their favorite songs while they decorated it. Then they would give this beautiful log to the Fire as a present... and all the children would hear the story of the gift of the First Oak tree.
On the longest night of the year, whenever you light a candle or build a fire, remember the story of the First GrandMother and the coyote who told her the secret. No matter how cold and dark it seems, the Sun will always be reborn and bring us warmth and light again.
by Sister BlackRaven
updated May 13, 2000
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