All around us are Yule-tide carols, yet if it were not for the night there would be no dawn. If it were not for the dark there would be no womb from which the Sun is born.
As Contemporary Pagans we celebrate the birth of the Sun, but as Witches we embrace the Night. Ours is the ride upon the North-wind; the howl that calls from the inner terror of the unknown. It is this taking up of the transgressive as our calling that strips us of our costume—it bares the hidden for us to see. Only when we stand naked is our true nature revealed. The night makes this possible. So Witch-kin, step into the night this Yule.
When our Sun is born, it is born from the cold tomb of the Underworld as a phoenix is born from ashes anew. To be born from the Underworld you must first descend into the hidden realms thereunder. The depth of the forest is far from the comforts of the fire. There is no eggnog or presents, no decorated tree, and no boughs of holly. There is though, the face of the Sun yet to be born. The dawn only comes when you have found the spark which will rise as the Sun in the spiritual landscape.
If this sounds dangerous to you, it’s because it is. The night is dangerous. Stripping flesh from bone to reveal what is underneath is dangerous. Standing naked in a screaming blizzard is dangerous. Witchcraft is dangerous. It is wild and terrifying. This is why the Craft invokes fear in those whom do not understand revelry in the hunt, in the slaughter of the ego, and the consumption of the self upon our own feast table so that when everything is gone all that remains is that which is eternal and the whole glory which is at the center of everywhere.
First though, the Witch must take the step out into the unknown, into the hidden, into the unseen, into the depths of the night when winter’s grip is upon the heart of the land. Go where only the shadow of the moon is cast in Her name and see what you find this Yule-tide. Step into the Night.
“Lost in a thicket, bare-foot upon a thorn path.”