The turning tide of the season draws near; I do not only know this by the shortening of the days. Our groups slowly climbs the path, as we did every week to stand still in front of the altar, we measure how the seasons come and go. I know the Sun can reach the crystal for I have seen it happening for many years, and I know that today, when the sun climbs the skies, we will be blessed with the light of Arthuan.
I watch how the young maidens, crowned with mistletoe and holly exchange smiles and giggles, I remember the feeling of excitement when I followed Viviane's footstep for the first time. Then I asked myself a range of questions that feel natural to me now. Will I be able to perform my tasks? How many eyes will be upon me? Will I hear her words or feel the change of the season pass through me as the elder novices explained to us? Who will be the Oak King this evening when we dance around the fire? How will the dance between the two Kings be, as the waxing power of one will defeat the waning strength of the other? I also was young once, but once they noticed that I watch them, their delighted faces grown serious and we all proceed solemnly during the final mile up on the Tor.
I let my thoughts wander and I hope that the clouds will have mercy on us, that indeed they will grant us the ten minutes of wonder to observe how the God will touch on the fertile lands with his warm hands, blessing us - the children of our Mother - who long to be freed from the chill of winter. The last year we only were granted a few minutes of the weak sunlight, which caused unrest under the farmers in the valley. Even though none of them are with us, I know their eyes will be turn towards this landmark and pray to the Goddess that this year their harvest will be fruitful and their livestock will be blessed with new offspring.
For this is the season of renewal. Even though Arthur passed away so many years ago, the festival of returning light is named after him as we hope for every year for him to return, since we light the candles in the wish of protection, but only the Goddess knows when the lands will need him the most. Until then, we have to leave the past behind us and welcome the new. I am aware that the world around us is undergoing constant change and we must change and adjust, too, in order to be able to survive. I know some will try to fight it, to keep the old ways as they were, only to miss the lesson of the seasons: change is inevitable.
Sometimes when the pain of letting go becomes to much for those who follow me, I gather them in my arms and offer them the opportunity in solace to let go of the old and to embrace as they cling to me in tears. To those who grief, the slow death of nature draws attention to the human death. As daylight diminishes, we remember how the light in the eyes of our loved ones died as well, making us belief that the sun would never return or that a new Spring would never come.
It is my role as a leader and high priestess to pass on knowledge, but also ease the hurts with kindness. The words I whispers hold a promise of the new things in life and how it is up for the other to grasp it as that opportunity arises. I offer them shelter and let them dance around the fires this night, after the Oak King undoubtly will win; I let all bask in the warmth of companionship for now until the end of the time.
For a moment, I fear that we are too late when the clouds slowly part to reveal the salmon pink sky, which slowly grows into a corn blue hue. The procession breaks up in an eddy: cloaks of all colours mingle, but as the sun rises while it basks the Tor in the cold midwinter glow, all stand still on their appointed place. With a grace that even overwhelms me, the light slowly guides my way behind the crystal and I open my arms to herald the new beginning as the light breaks down in a multi faceted brilliance. All around me hold their breath as the new cycle of life emerges from the dark and I pronounce the words of invocation with the hope that the light of Arthur will guide us in the year to come.