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.
Boidh Se,
-SM
“Lost in a thicket,
bare-foot upon a thorn path.”
