The Charge of the Goddess

 The Charge of the Goddess

by Doreen Valiente

Listen to the words of the Great Mother;
she who of old was also called among men
Artemis, Astarte, Athene, Dione, Melusine,
Aphrodite, Cerridwen, Cybele, Arianrhod,
Isis, Dana, Bride
and by many other names:

Whenever ye have need of anything,
once in the month, and better it be when the moon is full,
then shall ye assemble in some secret place
and adore the spirit of me,
who am Queen of all the witches.

There shall ye assemble,
ye who are fain to learn all sorcery,
yet have not won its deepest secrets;
to these will I teach things that are yet unknown.
And ye shall be free from slavery;
and as a sign that ye be really free,
ye shall be naked in your rites;
and ye shall dance, sing, feast,
make music and love,
all in my praise.
For mine is the ecstasy of the spirit,
and mine also is joy on earth;
for my law is love unto all beings.
Keep pure your highest ideal;
strive ever towards it;
let naught stop you or turn you aside.
For mine is the secret door
which opens upon the Land of Youth,
and mine is the cup of the wine of life,
and the Cauldron of Cerridwen,
which is the Holy Grail of immortality.

I am the Gracious Goddess,
who gives the gift of joy unto the heart of man.
Upon earth, I give the knowledge of the spirit eternal;
and beyond death, I give peace and freedom
and reunion with those who have gone before.
Nor do I demand aught in sacrifice;
for behold,
I am the Mother of all living,
and my love is poured out upon the earth.

Hear ye the words of the Star Goddess;
she in the dust of whose feet are the hosts of heaven,
and whose body encircles the Universe.
I who am the beauty of the green earth,
and the white Moon among the stars,
and the mystery of the waters,
and the desire of the heart of man,
call unto thy soul.
Arise, and come unto me.
For I am the soul of nature, who gives life to the universe.
From me all things proceed,
and unto me all things must return;
and before my face, beloved of Gods and of men,
let thine innermost divine self be enfolded in the rapture of the infinite.
Let my worship be within the heart that rejoiceth;
for behold,
all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals.
And therefore let there be beauty and strength,
power and compassion, honour and humility,
mirth and reverence within you.

And thou who thinkest to seek for me,
know thy seeking and yearning shall avail thee not
unless thou knowest the mystery;
that if that which thou seekest
thee findest not within thee,
thou wilt never find it without thee.
For behold,
I have been with thee from the beginning;
and I am that which is attained
at the end of desire.

Poem: Thou shalt not ask ‘why’

And I raise my eyes to the moon, with tears blurring my vision.

I ask Her why, what’s the reason what’ s my mission?

My toes going numb with the frost on the ground

My arms spread out wide as I circle around

When I fall to the earth, my energy spent at last

I ask Her again with one final gasp

Where did I come from and where shall I be

What will be left when there’s nothing of me?

(poetry as yet untitled)Dedicated to…

We lay on the beach,
You and I.
Lord and Lady.
God and Goddess.
Man and Woman.
Sacred star beneath us
sacred circle around us.
Waves, lapping gently as
the moon shone benevolently
upon our salty skin.
Magic sang in our blood;
our bodies
met and joined
in the sacred dance
the Great Rite.
And as the waves grew and crashed
thus did our magic,
until the stars fell
one
by
one..
upon our circle
from my eyes.
We lay sated
in the sand,
breathing as one
and welcoming the dawn
of Us.

Journal: Dream, message

This morning I woke up with words running thru my head. The tail end of my dream involved me reading a poem out loud. What I heard was the end of that poem, but even though I was reading it, it wasn’t totally my voice.

What remains is:

To live we must be forgiving

and giving is for us to give,

and the reason for living is loving

and the reason for love is to live.

Pretty cool.

End of Youth

I heard somewhere recently
that
Peter Pan left Neverland
and took a job on Wall Street
as a stock broker.
And that Wendy, his
ever-faithful gal Friday,
found herself a job in LA
doing set makeup on B-list
actresses.
Tinkerbell,
however,
remained with the Lost Boys.
Although now,
the only pixie dust they have
is sold on the corner of First and Main,
and comes like white powder
in a rolled up baggie.

Blessings

I only wish I could have written these beautiful words. I found them somewhere…not sure where

TURTLE’S BLESSING
May the blessings of the Universe fill your life and your heart.
May the sun shine brightly upon you and warm you for all of your days.
May the moon’s gentle beams touch you as you dream through the night and may the raindrops wash away all of your cares.
May the Great Spirit hear and answer all of your prayers.
May your home be blessed with love and laughter and happy times and may it be a haven of peace and tranquility. – old turtle
May you make this prayer inside yourself, and in its making, may you know that your home is within you.
May you understand that the sun, the moon, and the rain must touch you the human being, not the box you live in.
May you look up into the great turtle shell of the universe and into the face of the Great Spirit when you ask for and receive blessings.
May your tears fall onto turtle’s back and root your feet into her wisdom.
May your laughter be louder than your crying,
so the Great Spirit might hear you and smile.
****
Honor the Father and the Mother. Father stands for wisdom and Mother stands for feelings. Inside each of us is the Father and the Mother. If we do not honor both, we will not grow in balance. To honor both the Father and the Mother helps our masculine and feminine sides grow. The winter season is a good time to focus on this. This is our season of reflection. Honoring both sides allows us to see the Creator is both Father and Mother.
Great Spirit, Father Sky, Mother Earth, guide me today. Let me experience Listen to things more often than beings.
Hear the voice of the fire, hear the voice of the water,
Listen in the wind to the sighing of the bush:
This is the ancestors breathing.
Those who are dead are never gone;
The dead are not down in the earth:
They are in the trembling of the trees,
In the groaning of the woods,
In the water that runs, in the water that sleeps,
They are in the hut, they are in the crowd.
Those who are dead are not ever gone;
They are in the woman’s breast, they are in the wailing of a child,
They are in the burning log and in the moaning rock.
They are in the weeping grasses, in the forest and the home.
Listen to things more often than beings.
Hear the voice of fire, hear the voice of water.
Listen in the wind to the sighing of the bush.
This is the ancestors breathing.

(traditional song from Senegal)

Walking in the shadow

waking up this morning
slow and easy
floating on the last sensation of my
latest dreams
I remember walking on the beach
The sound of the surf and
the ocean breeze as it brushed my hair lightly across my shoulders.
My eyes remained closed,
not willing to let go this last glimpse and fragment.
My heart sped up as I realized this dream–
this last fleeting moment–
was slipping away from me as quickly as
the grains of sand under the ocean’s tide.
My time with you as well,
I realized,
is entering its final, hourglass ride.

The heat of promise

I sat outside tonight, long after the sun was abed.
Air humid and heavy
Pregnant with the promise of rain.
Mother Moon far above my head, growing fat in her fecundicy.
The pavement still warm from Father Sun’s bright, daytime glare.
Somewhere in the dark, teenagers played.
Giddy girl laughter,
the hesitant response of the boys.
I smiled in the darkness, remembering.
Summer nights like these,
they boil the blood, raise the pulse.
Yes, I remember my own wildness.
Moving from maiden to mother,
and heading on the slope towards crone now;
I am still stirred by the summer moonlight
the magic of the night
that carries in it always
the heat of promise.

imperfect beauty

Today I woke up early and the sun was shining.
Daffodils standing at attention in the
neat rows that I planted last fall.
Another winter behind
another spring upon us.
I sat on the front step and I drank my coffee,
Listening to the birds singing to each other
Watching the school buses up and down the street.
Even the garbage truck couldn’t ruin the mood.
The sun was warm on my face and my head.
The air was fresh with the clean scent of cut grass.
Sometimes in moments like this
I get sad for what I’ve lost, or
What I don’t, didn’t, or never will have.
Today though, I feel good.
I have the sunlight and I have my coffee.
I have my family and my friends and
Even if not everything is perfect
its okay.
In the older days, the Quakers would always leave
something small left not quite right on each project.
Maybe a dropped stitch in a sampler or
A slight mar in a piece of furniture.
It was a way of remembering that we are not perfect, but
we can still be
beautiful.
Maybe today
I have just a little of that imperfect beauty in me.

Lord and Lady

Lay me in soft grass and cover me with kisses
I’ll be your goddess if you’ll be my god.
Firelight glistens over the softness of skin
and fairies laugh in delicate glee as we
meet with the power of immortals.
Talk to me of inner dreams and secrets
stories for the moon to capture and
hang between the stars
A web of sacred thoughts and prayers
blessed and consecrated by our midnight joining.
Take my hand, let’s jump the flames
Desire tempered with longing and
moonlight in your eyes.
Lay with me in the grass my Lord
and let me be your Lady.