I have met the Morrígan.
I have stood in a circle, a shape unlike any circle I’ve stood in before, and beside my human kin, a spiritual kin sharing breath and space and smell and touch, I made contact with the Warrior inside myself.
At this moment it feels as though I have never been in this body before, nor have I ever been to a ritual before this one.
I expected something great from Thorn and her tribe, but I did not know I would be shaken so profoundly.
And I feel shaken. Shaken to the core. The hot lava core. Forge fire core. The core of something that both transcends and embodies; all at once harmonious, and resonant, and ripe with the tension of anticipation and climax.
This is not what being alive is like. This is what being alive is.
My focus has been directed toward liturgy, which I continue to believe is a valuable tool. But at this moment, charged with the energy of an army calling out to a Queen, I recognize the need for something greater than just ceremony.
Ritual and ceremony are not the same thing.
The tools we use for ritual are tools, and they are not the same thing as the juicy, bloody, fleshy, powerful potential of what ritual can be. There must be magick.
There must be.
There must be a movement of that stuff in the belly of bellies, in the gut of all guts. The words you speak are only useful if they mean something. They have to mean something. If you are going to speak — if you are going to stand before an altar and recite words to your Gods — you better say something that matters.
Liturgy is empty without heart, and as we sang at the tops of our lungs tonight —
The heart is the only nation.
A Goddess cut me deep tonight.
Cut a hole and filled it up with…
unexpected gratitude for the force which drives me to fight, to have sex, to use this body for all it’s worth, to stand up and speak…
These are the things which flow through me right now.
There may be no one right way to have a spiritual life, but fuck if this wasn’t a right way tonight.
If I had wings, they would be those of the raven.