It is early on Yule Eve as we find ourselves drawn to the winter windswept valley. The once verdant trees stand bare and black against the blue-gray sky. A light dusting of snow crunches pleasantly under our feet. It is cold, but our joy at seeing each other warms us considerably.

 

          Behind us looms a vast mountain range, as rugged and forbidding at it is beautiful. Overhead we hear the cry of a winter bird, and we look up to see at fat wren flying swiftly towards the mountain tops.  Suddenly a warm, balmy, spring-like wind sweeps down out of the mountains and briefly envelops like a soft, familiar coat.

 

          We turn to look up from where the welcome wind blew, and we see a spectacular silver crescent moon rising above the jagged peaks. It rests on its bottom as if floating on an astral sea, its peaks pointed straight into the darkening sky like the horns of a mighty bull. We gasp in awe as it rises slowly, pulsating with a light which seems to come deep from within itself.

 

          The silver crescent seems to stop directly over the largest and darkest of the mountain peaks, and it throbs gently as if it is a sentient being answering an ageless question.

 

It is now night ~ the longest one of the year, and the stars twinkle brightly in the dark sky, a fitting altar for the exquisite moon.

 

We all notice now that the temperature has dropped considerably, and we start to shiver and look around futilely for a source of much-needed warmth.  The only warmth seems to be radiating from the crescent moon which almost seems to be beckoning us to follow.

 

As one, we all move into the mountains, the terrain becomes more difficult. The snow is deeper, and the night colder and blacker. It is hard, and even frustrating, to navigate through the craggy twists and turns. But whenever we grow discouraged, a thin shimmer of silver light from above bathes the path before us in a soothing glow which leads us onward.

 

We begin to ascend the side of the rugged mountain face, a steep and even treacherous climb. But we still push onward, chasing the moon as did our pagan ancestors many centuries ago. As we make our way up, someone begins singing an ancient pagan carol. We know not from where the words and music come, but as if all of one mind, we sing the song together.

 

{ Pause briefly so the the journeyors can hear and commune with the mystical music. Compare notes later to see how many of you heard a similar melody}

 

When our song peaks, the moon seems to glow brighter as if conveying her approval of our offering of joy.

 

As we climb over one last outcropping and pull ourselves up onto a large plateau, we are stunned to discover before us a spring-like oasis. New growth touches the few trees, and blades of new, green grass, creates a soft carpet under our feet. Around the edge of the plateau, as if forming a sacred circle, are magestic evergreen trees decorated with the bounty of the Yule season. But even in the midst of all this wonder, the air around us is still bone-chilling cold, and very uncomfortable.

 

The moon, surprisingly close to us now, rises a bit higher above and, in doing so, illuminates a well-worn path ahead. Without a word we all follow.

 

The path leads to the massive rock face of the uppermost part of the mountain. It looks to us like a dead end, and we all feel a great disappointment. But then, as if appearing by magick, the face of the rock silently opens, revealing a small cave whose opening is shaped like the moon above.

 

Cautiously we step inside.

 

The air here is perceptibly warmer, and we discard some of the gloves and hats we needed during our climb. Far off in the distance is the sound of running water, like a gentle mountain brook.

 

We begin moving toward the inviting sound of water. Walking back  through a long, thin cavern, we wonder at first if the opening will remain large enough for us to continue to pass through until we get to the source of the water sounds. We are forced to move slowly in the pre-natural darkness which envelops us like a deep, warm ocean.

 

Just when we think the path can grow no narrower or become any darker, we see far ahead a glimmer of light.

 

We move more rapidly now through the narrow cavern towards the light, thankful that the pervasive darkness is finally broken.

 

One by one, we step out into a large round cave room. The walls are black like obsidian, and smooth like the inside of an egg. No usual cave fixtures are present. The light we saw in the tunnel comes from a profusion of red candles that are collected together around a young woman who sits at the far end of the room on a simple wooden chair as regally as a queen would sit a throne. On the floor around her is an array of winter foliage ~ holly, evergreen, and mistletoe. Before her runs the creek we heard babbling in the distance. The water is a clear blue in color, and though the stream is narrow, it looks to be fathomlessly deep.

 

The young woman’s robes are a very pale blue, almost white in color, and appear luminescent’ like the moon which led us to her, and her long flowing hair is pale blonde, like that of spun silver. Around her head is a band of white. In the center of her forehead is an ancient symbol of the moon ~ a circle with two crescents on each end pointing outward. They too are of silver, their phosphorescent glow radiating warmth and peace.

 

Near her side sits a spinning wheel unlike any we have ever seen before. It is made of a substance we cannot identify, and the wheel on it spins continuously in a clockwise motion of its own accord, untouched by any hands that we can see.

 

The woman looks to be barely out of her teens, but her eyes are wide and knowing, as if the wisdom of the ages resides within her.  She smiles warmly in greeting.

 

“Welcome Seekers,” she says, and her voice is rich and full-bodied as fresh honey, and as melodious as the songs of the gaeries.

 

Without any of saying a word, she knows why we have each come, and she seeks to answer our questions. As we listen to her we each hear a message intended specially for us.

 

{Pause so that each seeker can hear this message. They can all be compared and discussed later. Frequently in a group working you will find that they all bear a remarkable similarity}

 

When the woman finishes speaking we realize that we are in the presence of the Virgin Goddess. She smiles shyly as she realizes she has been recognized. Without another word she rises and stands before us. Her palms are upraised as if she is giving us her blessing, and we feel a potent warmth surge through us.

 

“Tonight is Yule, a night on which the eternal turning of my Wheel of the Year is acknowledged. From my past comes my future, and from my future the past. From age, I am young again. From mourning comes my joy. So it must always be. All things turning, returning, coming to and from and back again in a never-ending cycle.”

 

We watch in awe as the Goddess glows with splendor, appearing now as a silver and gold light that spins and pops, electrifying the air around us. She rises like a phoenix into the center of the room, where she becomes a sphere of pure life energy.

 

From her core, a bright golden light, like the brightness of sunshine, pulsates as if it is her very heart. The energy fills the room and us to overflowing.

 

Just when we think we can absorb no more, the golden light energy from her core separates from her and takes its place next to her.

 

We stand in stunned silence as we look up at the two glowing orbs, one a luminescent silver, and the other a vibrant gold.

 

A voice, resonant and masterful, one which is neither male nor female, seems to come from the direction of the orbs.

 

“Blessed be, my children. Go in peace.”

 

The vibrant voice echoes briefly off the smooth cave walls, and with that, the orbs fade from view, and we are left feeling both relieved and saddened at their parting.

 

We each entertain our own private thoughts about the miraculous events we just witnessed and we make our way silently back out of the cave, across the plateau, and back down the rugged mountain face. The descent somehow seems easier, and we notice that the air is warmer.

 

When we reach the bottom of the mountain we see that the moon is gone, and in its place is the bright sunlight of the new day. The winter sky is an azure blue and the lean dusting of snow glistens under it like millions of tiny diamonds.

 

Overhead we hear the call of another bird. As we look up we can almost swear we see a plump red-breasted robin swooping down towards us from the center of the blazing sun.

 

Laughing and crying, we race to the center of the valley where we began our trip.

 

It seems as if the sun is shimmering and dancing, celebrating with us, and we are reluctant to leave this magickal place. But slowly we take our leave of one another, and we come home.

 

Take some slow deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth. When you are ready open your eyes.

 

Edain McCoy