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The Winter Solstice is a time of birth—or re-birth—the longest night of the year, when we wait, breathless in hope and anticipation, for the rebirth of the sun and the return of the light to the world. This dawn of a new beginning represents our Awakening into the Queer Mysteries, stepping from a world of shadow and darkness into a new light of awareness, not unlike the process of being born.

We all experience those moments of “otherness” where we feel different, isolated, set apart. For queer people that sense of difference often comes young and lasts untilwe can recognize and name it. For some, dawn comes in a bright and blinding flash of illumination and understanding. There are others for whom this is a process as slow and sometimes painful as birth can be, and necessitates leaving behind a safe and comfortable space for the wonders and challenges of the wider world.

Like all awakenings, the awareness of otherness, the sense of what we in the Temple call the Queer Spirit, cannot ever really be undone or forgotten. Once awakened to the experience, we are forever changed by it and cannot simply go back to sleep. Some may refuse to acknowledge it, but this new awareness cannot be denied. Although the process may take some time—for some a lifetime—we must learn to see by the light of this new dawn and to understand what it is showing us about ourselves.

An end comes to all things. The ecstasy of youth is distilled and refined and passed on to the next generation and, if we are fortunate, we step into the final Mysteries of Elderhood and, eventually, of Death, that final ecstasy, to begin again. Having cultivated the Mysteries of Pride and community, of Family, of Mentorship, it is time to receive the caring and nourishment that we have sown, and particularly time for the community to give back to its elders in equal measure.

If recognizing the Mystery of Mentorship is a challenge for the queer community, then honoring the Mystery of Elderhood is even more so; our elders too often find themselves forgotten and ignored by a community caught up in the Mysteries of Coming Out, Ecstasy, and Pride, not recognizing how the contributions of those before them helped to make those things possible. Honoring our Queer Ancestors at this turning of the Wheel is only the first step in recognizing and honoring our livingelders while they remain with us.

This is another reason for the creation of queer (and queer-friendly) sacred spaces and communities: The relationship that begins with mentorship can then become reciprocal, offering elders care, community, visibility, and purpose in return for their experience and guidance. This care from community may be the only sort that queer elders receive, as they may not have children, and may well be estranged from other, younger, family members. Likewise, when elders have passed beyond the veil, the only reverence they receive as ancestors may come from their queer “descendants” who remember them. In the Temple of Witchcraft’s Queer Spirit rituals, we regularly call upon our ancestors with the invocation: “Ancestors of Queer Spirit, you who walked the path before us, you who smoothed and eased the way for us, may we follow in your footsteps to ease the way for those who will come after us. You who stand in shadow at the edge of our circle, be welcome at the light of our fire in love and respect.”

Tailtiu labored ’till

Her deathly flight…

Indeed…

Lugh acknowledged

His mother’s toil…

So too, then,

Lughnasadh requires our moil…

While we celebrate Her Sacrifice

With games and flame…

(For this bounty of the year

demands our acclaim…)

We must remember the sacrifice shared…

And in sharing our gifts

Prepare to be bared…

Knowing…

Cernunnos calls

to begin The Hunt…

To gather meat

for winter’s drought…

For in the dark

Of this lessening hour

We spend our strength

While preparing our power…

As The Great Lord wanes,

And The Lady’s soon to sleep…

May The Harvest and the Hunt

Flaunt in Full Vitality…

For the Cycle of Life

Spiraling ’round and ’round

Envelops Infinity

(If we choose to be bound…)

And while we hold choice

To choose as We Will

Awakened or No…

Tis…

Our Path to Fulfill…

(An’ ol’ bent Crom Dubh delights

In gathering his own…

From ubiquitous planting-

So I am told…)

© 2014 Raven Wynn

A former teacher, minister, alcohol/drug and family counselor, Raven now focuses his attention and energy on writing poetry, hand sewing leather journals, crafting feather quill dip pens, and naturescape/infrared photography. Living in a small town on the banks of a quiet river with Majíi, a Siamese cat, Raven experiences life through a (pre)-celtic animistic cosmology celebrating our sacred individuality within the oneness of all.

This past week, the Temple’s Aries ministry conducted its regular protection ritual for the Temple and its members. This time, however, Aries lead minister Michael Cantone recorded the ritual and is providing you with access to the recording and associated notes so you can perform the ritual for yourself.

Use the following links to download…

• The ritual audio file (mp3, 55 MB)
• The ritual outline (pdf, 49 KB)
• The Tonga sigil (pdf, 111 KB)

The audio explains more about Aries ministry spirit Tonga. This sigil is to be used once and for this ritual only. Place the offering in front of the sigil coupled with a burning candle. Once the candle has burned out, burn the sigil in your cauldron and the offering will be released to Tonga.

For the altar items used are as follows:

1. Cauldron in center of altar
2. Second cauldron placed in the North to hold the sea salt for the elemental part of the ritual
3. Peyton
4. Incense and incense burner (frankincense and myrrh is what we used) placed in the South for the elemental part of the ritual
5. Athame
6. Goddess and God candles
7. Chalice
8. Wand
9. Third candle to be placed in the East for the elemental part of the ritual
10. A bell placed anywhere on the altar but used for spirit for the elemental part of the ritual
11. Water and Yarrow (not seen in the picture to be placed in the West for the elemental part of the ritual)
12. Tonga offering (also not seen in the picture)

Perform the ritual during the banishing phase of the moon (ideally before the moon begins waxing again this month).

Questions? Email [email protected].

As the Mystery of the First Harvest of Lammas is bread and family, the Mystery of the Second Harvest of Mabon is fermentation and ecstasy. This is not the individual Mystery of Ecstasy of Beltane, but instead is sharedecstasy, brewed and bottled and given as the divine gift that it is: the Waters of Life, the Draught of Inspiration. As we move into the final phases of the Wheel, it is also one of the Mysteries that still challenges the queer community, that of Mentorship.

One of the secrets of the Queer Spirit is that it is rarely found where we begin. Most queer people are born and raised in heterosexual (if not necessarily heterosexist) families and we are most certainly raised currently in a heterosexist and largely patriarchal culture. Earlier in the cycle of the Wheel, we are driven by our awareness of otherness, our declaration of identity, to seek out our people, our tribe. This Mystery is the other side of that equinox of Coming Out, the role of those who stand on the other side to welcome the newcomer, extending the heady offering of knowledge, experience, and understanding.

This Mystery is also a profound opportunity to seek out and honor our elders, something queer community has not and does not always do well. For many of us, around my age and younger, a generation of our elders was decimated by plague and neglect, leaving us without the benefits of their wisdom. We should cherish those who remain that much more because of it, and seek to grow into the mentors we wish that we had in our time for the generations who come after us. This is part of the reason for establishing queer sacred spaces and communities, such as the Temple of Witchcraft’s Queer Spirit Ministry, or queer-focused festivals, traditions, and groups. It is part of the work of this and other essays: Distilling our experiences and insights so they may be shared with a new generation.

I delayed writing about the queer mysteries of Lammas until after I attended the Coph Nia festival, a gathering for queer pagan men at Four Quarters Interfaith Sanctuary in Artemas, Pennsylvania. I’m glad I did, as the gathering helped to illuminate the Mysteries of this part of the journey of the Wheel, which concern the first harvest, the miracles of bread and beer that arise from that harvest, and the power and importance of home and family.

Lammas is also known as Lughnasadh, or “the funeral games of Lugh,” but the games are not to honor the Celtic solar god known as Ildannach (“the many-skilled”). They are, instead, for his foster mother, Taltiu of the Fir-Bolg, the People of the Spear. For Lugh was a child of two tribes: the Tuatha de Dannan and the Fomorians, his parents slain and their infant son spirited away by the sea god Mannanan MacLir (much as the wise Merlin would do with the infant Arthur Pendragon some time later).

Taltiu raised Lugh as her own and later sacrificed herself by expending the last of her strength in digging up all the stones from the fields of Eiru (Ireland) to make them fertile and bountiful: the gift of a queen and mother to her people and her child to ensure a bountiful harvest. The same harvest in which her sacrifice is honored.

In the Queer Mysteries, we have gone from illumination, to revelation (coming out), through ecstasy to pride, the claiming and using of power. Now comes the time to harvest what has been sown through the use of that power.

The queer relationship with family is often fraught, due to the necessary step of separation, of seeking queer identity outside of the family. While many more of our people find acceptance and love in the families in which they were raised, there is still a time of seeking and, like all mature adults, a time to create a new family of one’s own.

We all need connection, but members of the queer community tend to lack models and means to find, build, and maintain those connections. For the longest time, there was only the heteronormative model of monogamous marriage—a goal of equality that is now available or in sight for many people. Some openly defied this goal—along with other norms—but the threat of the plague years of HIV and AIDS tended to suppress free and open expressions of love and sexuality. It was not only silence that equaled death, but connection.

So our exploration of other kinds of families tended to focus on safety and support. We cannot know how the fiery flowering of Gay Pride would have unfolded without this terrible challenge. It may have closed some doors, but opened up others, inspiring the queer community to find new ways to love and support each other, when no one else would. We became caretakers, advocates, protectors, and educators, amongst other things.

“Family” is a loaded word, particularly for queer people, who so often in the past experienced rejection and exile from the families that raised them. That is less and less the case (although it still happens far too often) but even those fortunate enough to retain good relations with the family that raised them—as I have—are still faced with challenges: What does “family” mean to us, and how to we choose to define it?

It is another area in which queer people often forge their own path. Some may choose the heteronormative model of the “nuclear family,” a monogamous, committed couple, often raising children, but that is by no means the only option. Indeed, many queer people have adopted the expression “family of choice” to reflect their own decision to create new families in configurations that suit them, pointing out the fact most take for granted that all families are by choice: We choose to built together, to stay together, to manage together, celebrate together, to be together, in whatever way works for us. That’s true of all people, but the difference is that the “default” model is not as pervasive with queer people as it is for mainstream culture.

Thus, in my experience, have I encountered families ranging from same-sex married couples (with or without children, biological or adopted) through a dizzying spectrum of polyamory including Vs, triads, quads, tribes, and other “polycules.” There are leather families and kink families and faerie communes and intentional communities and so very much more. All of the successful ones have taken the Mystery of the first harvest—sowing the seeds, nurturing their growth, harvesting them, and transforming them into things to nourish body, mind, and spirit—and applied it to the sacred work of their lives and the lives of those they love, those they choose. It is not easy work, far from it, but important work rarely is. It is sacred work, necessary work, and a part of the maturing process where we transition in our journey of the Mysteries from we to me to us again.

As we turn the Wheel of the Year once again, we arrive at Lammas, the first of the three harvest festivals. To celebrate the first cut of wheat Kurt Hunter brings us his unique thoughts on bread. While written during Imbolc his piece connects us with the fruits of the Lammas harvest.

Elemental Cooking: Mysteries that Become Mysteries

by Kurt Hunter

If anyone has been following my Facebook page in recent days then you likely know I’ve been delving into the strange and arcane world of cooking, specifically, baking–even more than that, of baking breads. Quick breads, sweet breads, yeast breads especially because those always seemed the most unfathomable. Now I have experienced the chemistry of it and, as the Ancients knew, the art of alchemy is strongly related to the science of chemistry. Many of our spiritual practices and traditions can be linked to the operations of preparing food, because food is life, life is chemistry but—more than that—life is alchemy. The spark of life that happens when inorganic compounds become organic compounds and then living organic compounds is still unknown to science. It has something to do with energy, and maintaining structure in the midst of a decaying universe while promoting diversity, and being able to duplicate its own pattern so the process can continue. We understand the definitions but I am not sure how much closer we are to understanding the ineffable stuff of life itself–at least not in the sense of our relatively modern definitions of “science”.

Shamans, mystics, alchemists, magicians, and all our hoary ilk have been pondering this very question for thousands of years. Life might be considered the infusion of spirit into matter. All sorts of mystical principles are bound to this idea. Before there was the written language the shaman understood it. They carried it to us from the spirit world. Before we made a systematic study of it, the priests knew it, for the gods told them. Apparently it was important we learn to ask these questions. With the asking and the exploring came the discovery of many an edifice of scholarly thought on the very topic of life itself. At some point mysticism and science diverged for much of Western civilization. That’s too bad. It’s fairly commonplace amongst occultists to blame the Christian Church for this suppression of knowledge despite the irony that monks and scribes from that same church served as the only source of many magickal teachings that we are resurrecting today. I do often wonder what life would be like in this world if that hadn’t happened. Some say it would have been as though Atlantis never sank below the waves. But if that had happened then, likely, I would never have embarked on my culinary adventure.

The Pagan community is driven by big larger-than-life images: Myths. Stories. Fables. One of my favorite old-time horror flicks is Frankenstein, based on the novel by Mary Shelley almost 200 years ago (that long?) A part of our popular culture is that particular scene, that particular line, where Dr. Frankenstein is hovering beside his greatest creation, shouting “It’s ALIVE!” This is obviously a cautionary tale about the pursuit of knowledge going where it has no business to be. Essentially, life is best left up to the gods. This isn’t a particularly new notion however. Just delve back into history about the story of Prometheus, he who dared to steal fire (life) from Them. Fast forward centuries to the biblical tale of Adam and Eve– Yahweh is rather ticked that Man went and stole a bit of His divine prerogative. It would only have been so much better for you if you’d just remained in the lovely paradise of ignorance. Do as your told and your parents will see to it that you’re kept safe. But we are incapable of that. Because we have that blend of living curious humanity, ipso facto, we have that blend of living curious humanity. Blame the gods. They did it, so in essence, they made us into Them. Is it any surprise that we keep trying to be Them?

But we aren’t ready to understand these secrets!
We will destroy everything with hidden knowledge!
God(s) know best, just follow Them!

Yeah. Whatever.

I loved my parents deeply. Did I always do what they said? No. Seriously, show me an adult who didn’t get into trouble. Did I get burned sometimes? I think that is essentially the point. We’re going to explore. We’re going to make a mess. We’re going to turn the kitchen into a disaster area. We’re going to tip over the cosmic apple cart with our gods-be-damned curiosity because that’s how we’re made. And, most importantly, we’re going to make mistakes.

And so, many lines later, exactly what in the hell does this have to do with baking bread? Do I digress? A little. It’s an intellectual tangent but life is, really, a meandering foray into the conceptual dough of un-being.

Any kitchen witch knows this truth: cooking is all about the Elements. It’s all about balancing the Elements appropriately. There are various excellent books on this very profound Mystery. The cunning art of the place where we cook is an absolute favorite in many a book of shadows, grimoire and tome. This seems like an excellent time to plug author Dawn Hunt and her magickal recipe compendium (this is a fancy phrase for “cookbook”) Cuchina Aurora. While you’re salivating also grab Tastes from the Temple, a collection of wonderful stories and concoctions from my magickal alma mater The Temple of Witchcraft. I get double entendre word score here; the Latin phrase “alma mater” also means “Nourishing Mother”. You’d think that it was Demeter/Ceres who vouchsafed these mysteries to me, but no, at least not directly. Honour She whose Mystery brings the grain, but it wasn’t Her who hit me upside the head tonight. That happens at Lammas.

I’m writing this whole convoluted morass of ingredients to illustrate a point that was given to me quite elegantly by Brigid this past week. Specifically tonight, on Imbolc, as I was cooking my final Great Loaf Offering Unto Her as the culmination of a week’s worth of solemn observation. You see, despite my love of attempting to cook, I have a rather irrational fear of putting things in the oven (because I invariably forget they’re even there and the imp of the perverse haunts the timer on my stove). I cannot begin to tell you how many times I have thought “What’s that smell?” to be immediately followed by the “Oh Shit” moment of realizing you don’t have nearly enough air flow in your apartment and your smoke detector is going to throw yet another conniption fit. So baking bread is really a serious leap for me. I enjoy the steps of it, so long as someone else is fundamentally in charge. I have been educated in just how, elementally speaking, a sensitive process it is. It’s like creating life, a little too much of one thing or too little too much of another thing, and you’ve got something that isn’t fit for human consumption, much less a divine offering. Fortunately for me, Brigid has a lovely sense of humor.

Which goes to say, I learned a lot more from my failures than my successes this past week. We’re supposed to fail. Life is designed to fail. It perfects itself, incrementally, upon its path to perfection. But it really has to blow it all up, and spectacularly is better because nothing serves to focus the attention like a ceiling full of smoke. Here is what She behest me to say about these lessons.

EARTH: Yah. Ingredients. I tasted some pretty foul stuff. Who knew that a pinch of salt was so bloody important? Well, as you read this may have and are laughing, but I certainly didn’t. Corn starch also makes a poor substitute for baking powder (but it looks the same Mom!) Also if you put too much fruit of the Earth into your recipe without allowing for something to balance it, like a bigger loaf, then bad things happen. What’s that smell?

AIR: It’s good to know what you’re doing. It’s great to be able to understand the simple causality of “If X, then Y, if not X, then not Y”. A statement of Boolean logic. All sorts of strange things occur if you ignore this simple truth. The written word also rules recipes. I don’t know enough yet to violate the rules when I think I do. Smoke is also ruled by Air, which is a good thing otherwise I’d be a crisped hunk about now.

FIRE: Obviously this is going into the oven. That sacred Element of the forge and hearth that so compelled me to try to honor Her right and proper that I’d make repeated stabs at it. It approached the level of irrational compulsion and an expanded waistline because I made more bread than I can realistically consume. (But damn homemade bread that turns out is good!) I needed a bigger freezer. Thank goodness I have tolerant coven mates. I had to bake something with grain in it every day for the past week or so. They didn’t all fail, but enough did to recognize that my temperature gauge likely needs some adjusting.

WATER: You know what happens when you accidentally read ¼ cup to mean ½ cup? A soppy, blobby mess that simply did not have the nice puffy consistency of a good sourdough but didn’t even take to slicing it crosswise with a knife before baking. It simply refused the decency to tolerate a little human error in this regard. Why aren’t you folding out of the bowl now? I cannot get enough flour on my hands to make you-come-loose! Too little and you just crack and crumble. I’m a water sign yet this seems to have been my most frequent nemesis.

SPIRIT: I’ve been talking about life. What part of bread yet retains the spark of life before you put it together? The yeast! I have grown to adore yeast. The smell. The funny little bubbles and swirling, expanding foam it makes in the water. I would simply stare into the water, willing the bread to live! I’m sure an entire form of divination can come out of this. (Yeast-o-mancy?) More than anything it was the thing that made me feel truly like Dr. Frankenstein, going “Mwa ha haaaaa!” I don’t seem to have forgotten any recipes that called for it, or added it to any that said “don’t do it for the luv of God!” I would have liked to have seen if I added too much. I might end up summoning Cthulhu. Perhaps next Imbolc.

Bread is like a fussy kitty who refuses to eat what you put in its dish. It’s also a fascinating study on the human capacity for divine error, the Elements, balance, and most importantly, the ability to laugh and learn from your mistakes.

Yay bread!

Kurt Hunter is Georgian elder and NROOGD red cord who has been working in the Craft for over 25 years. He is High Priest of ElvenOak Coven in the beautiful Pacific Northwest and is currently a student in the ministerial seminary of the Temple of Witchcraft. Kurt works as a professional counselor and clinical supervisor and enjoys stone collecting, gardening, photography and gaming. He lives in Portland, OR and can be reached at [email protected]

The Temple celebrates the Feast of Hecate on August 13th each year. I have had the pleasure of leading the feast multiple years, and Hecate has become an important goddess in my life.

I wrote the following story as a teaching story, but I am sure it was inspired by the Goddess herself. I read it to the people gathered at the Feast of Hecate while the priestesses and priests ready themselves to do oracular work. This story is about how I see Hecate. It weaves some of her traditional lore with my own experience of her. This story can also be found in the newest Copper Cauldron book, Foundations of the Temple, which premiered this past weekend at TempleFest. May her torch in the darkness guide us home!

Blessings,
Adam Sartwell
Founder and Virgo lead minister

Hecate’s Choice: A New Tale of Hecate

by Adam Sartwell

Long ago when the world was young and the battles for the universe between the Titans and the gods had ended, the gods met with each other at the foot of Mount Olympus. They gathered to decide how they were going to divide the spoils of war. They deliberated about lands, animals, and other  things under their domain until finally it was time to decide which humans they would champion. First spoke Zeus, king of the gods.

“I will take those the humans who rule over others and make the laws, men of prestige and significance. They will embrace justice in my name.”

Then spoke Hera, queen of the gods.

“I shall have the married women for my own and those women who are pregnant or mothers. They shall find succor and solace under my patronage.”

Then spoke Ares, lord of war.

“I will take the warriors and men of battle. I shall heap glory upon them all.”

Athena, goddess of wisdom, said on to the other gods: “I shall take the strategists, crafters, and lords of commerce. They shall thrive with the blessing of my wisdom.”

Then spoke Poseidon.

“I shall have the sailors and fishermen and bless them with the use of my ocean.”

Then announced Hades, “I shall take the dead that come to Tartarus and the Elysian Fields; they shall suffer or be pleased in measure of their past lives.”

Aphrodite said, “The lovers will be mine and those with shining beauty. I will grace them with fertility.”

So on and on the Olympians chose the best and brightest of their own perspective fields of influence and enhanced each one’s blessings.

In the end there were groups of people who did not fit these groups. These beings trembled and quaked unknowingly as each god passed them by. Then as it seemed all gods had made their choices, from the darkness came Hecate. The Titan who was still revered by all the gods even after their war. She looked at those still left to be taken. Her compassion moved her to speak.

“Greatest of gods, hear me. You have made your choices, and now I would make mine. I shall take all who have been left behind. The not chosen, the unwanted, the seemingly unredeemable, the outcasts, the lunatic, the poor, the malformed, the victim, the homeless, the lost, the murderer, I shall take them and guide them with my torch out of the darkness. I shall witness acts of violence both to bring compassion to the souls perpetrating and the victims to bring justice and succor in kind. I shall take the shades and specters, those who can’t find their way, to help them finish their business and lead them home. I shall take the unloved and scorned and hold them dear. I will remind them all of the power of choice, the wisdom of necessity, and the love of my compassion.”

All the gods were shocked at this choice. They saw how they had chosen only those who were bright reflections of themselves and their greatness. They had forgotten the lowly souls who needed them most. Hearing this compassionate choice, Zeus was moved.

“For this act of compassion and wisdom, I shall bless you alone Hecate with status above the other gods. I offer you three boons: You shall have the power that I have to grant any wish that is petitioned of you. I shall give you rulership  and free passage over a place in Tartarus below, the world of men and the sea and the sky, so you may be with any who need you. I give you the keys to all kingdoms. Lastly I give you the power to chose your last boon. As I will it is so!”

Hecate replied: “I thank you, Lord Zeus, for this boon. I shall tell the people of the world that if ever they should need a thing and wish to petition me, let them go to the crossroads that are my sacred space, with a meal as offering and their wish writ on a slip under the dish. They shall leave both at the crossroads and turn away and not look back until they are home. This meal shall feed the dogs and poor homeless and I shall look on them with favor of what they truly need.

“For my boon I ask for a race of my own that shall like me span all the races and be born to all. They shall be born with the potential to bring success in love, to curse or bless, to speak to beasts, to converse and congress with spirits, to command the weather, to cast out blight, to read the messages of the starry heaven, to see the future, to conjure treasure and fortune, to heal the sick, and kill despair.  Some shall be born and some shall be remade. They shall be all manner of people and trades. They shall be called Witches and may be loved or hated, and live between to shape them to necessity.  They shall aid me in my great work to aid the forgotten and the rest of man.”

And so it was decided. The gods and Titans stood on the Mount of Olympus holding hands and said: “As we will it, so shall it be!”

“Listen to me when I say, I’m beautiful in my way, ‘Cause God makes no mistakes. I’m on the right track, baby. I was born this way.” — Lady GaGa, “Born This Way” Born This Way

June is Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month and the Temple of Witchcraft is observing the occasion by marching in the 2014 Boston Pride Parade, proudly carrying our banner that says “Temple of Witchcraft: Love, Will & Wisdom.” We have this  done for several years now, succeeding the Independent Pagans of New England, who carried the torch for many years before us. (Want to march with us? Check out the Facebook event, email me at [email protected], or just show up at Copley Square before 10 am on Saturday, June 14th and look for our banner!)

What does it mean when we talk about “queer pride” and “Pride” as a queer mystery? Much modern spiritual lore suggests pride is a failing, after all. “Pride goeth before a fall” we’re told, and hubris, or overweening pride, is one the tragic flaws of many a Greek hero. For that matter, what are we proud of? As some ask, whether sexuality is nature or nurture, it seems largely fixed at a very early age, and certainly not something we choose, so it is an achievement of which we are proud?

Our pride is invested in different achievements. Through the mystery of coming out, we learned to say “This is who I am.” Through the mystery of ecstasy, we experienced the paradox of being a part of, and apart from, everything. We “find ourselves” anew and learn what it means to be who (and what) we are. As I mentioned in talking about the mystery of ecstasy, one of its key concepts is the return: We must come back from that state of ecstatic bliss, return to the Realized World of form, time, and change, and put what we have learned to work. That work, saying “I will create something better” is the mystery of Pride.

That “something better” is for our community, our people. Pride is not the aggrandizement of self, but just the opposite: It is humble service to a higher ideal, intended to elevate everyone, a dedication to smoothing the way for those who come after you. It is the creation of sacred space—queer space—that not only says “You are safe here” but goes beyond to say “You are special. You are loved and celebrated here.” Pride is having enough of a sense of self, a sense of worth, to not be satisfied with mere “acceptance.” It says, “I’m better than that. We deserve better than that, and I’m going to help make it happen.”

It is fitting that Pride is associated with the longest, and therefore brightest, day of the year, when the Sun reaches the peak of its power. Pride is about shining a brilliant light—not a spotlight on us, but a light that illuminates, a beacon others can see to guide them to the better spaces and ideas that we create. It is fitting that one of the pagan gatherings for Men Who Love Men in the United States is called “Prometheus Rising,” as Pride is a Promethean power: daring to steal fire from heaven in order to give it as a gift and liberate those kept in darkness, and accepting the consequences of that action, all because it is necessary.

Pride is the assertion of the Will, the power to demand change and to make it happen. Rather than accept what is, it is the ability to see what could be, and the determination to bring it into being. It is heat as well as light, the fires of passion, dedication, and, yes, anger: The patrons of the Stonewall Inn, did not act initially from a higher vision. They had simply had enough: enough of harassment, enough of persecution, enough of shame, enough of mistreatment and, for the first time, they fought back, and the community put the power of that Pride behind better visions of the future, a better world for themselves and those who would follow them. They marched for their recognition and their rights, and helped to earn them, passing the torch on to the generations after them, to us, to continue the work.

Pride embraces and seeks to create community in common cause. It’s a time for the diverse people of the queer rainbow to come together as one, not to quash our differences for everyone else’s comfort, but to celebrate our differences, from the mainstream community and even amongst ourselves. I have seen the powerful magick and sacred space this creates, when our community sets aside our cliques and artificial niches, and it is necessary for the pursuit of our common rights. As Benjamin Franklin observed at the signing of the American Declaration of Independence, “We must all hang together, or assuredly we will all hang separately.”

In that common cause, with our Pride, we raise up new possibilities and create a new and better world than the one we left behind upon realizing our differences and claiming them as our own. We celebrate who and what we are and use it, not as a stigma or source of shame, but as a source of strength and inspiration. Blogger Joe Jervis, activist and author of Joe.My.God, sums it up brilliantly in his annual Pride Month post:

Possibly you’ve heard the Jewish in-joke that sums up the meaning of all Jewish holidays? “They tried to kill us. We won. Let’s eat.” My Pride version?

They wish we were invisible.

We’re not.

Let’s dance.

A happy and blessed Pride to all!