May your eye go to the sun, your breath to the wind: go to the heaven and to the earth according to rule, or go to the Waters, if there it is ordained for you! Among the plants to take your place with your limbs!

When you were born,
The earth became your body,
The stone became your bone,
The sea became your blood,
The sun became your eye,
The moon became your mind,
The wind became your breath.

When you passed to the Otherworld,
Your breath became the wind,
Your mind became the moon,
Your eye became the sun,
Your blood became the sea,
Your bone became the stone,
Your body became the earth.

When we were born, you did the same for us:
You called forth the earth and rocks;
The sea arose and the sun descended;
The moon shone down and the winds sang.
For those who come after, we shall do as you did for us
When we are gone, we shall do as you did before.

I remember watching the dawn break on Mt. Olympus, far above Litichoro and the sea. As I stood in the gray light of early morning, watching the mists roll over the mountain, I understood a little better the presence of the dawn in the mind of the poet, and the presence of the divine on Mt. Olympus. Truly, the blushing bride of the sun, the virgin innocent who blushes fiercely and beautiully when she is seen at her bath, the girl who comes quietly through your window in the morning and brushes her warm fingers across your face and chest and thighs. . . truly, she was there. . .

In my mind's eye, when I view the dawn I am looking through a keyhole at a young woman bathing in her room, which is richly furnished in dark wood, draped in fabrics with warm hues of orange and red. She may sing to herself, or hum, as she slowly and joyously washes in the deep waters about her, the colours reflecting in the ripples where the waters meet her skin. At length, she rises from the bath, the waters dripping from her bosom in the many colours of the morning, and though she is alone she blushes a deep and soft blush, the colours radiating out from her skin. . . but this vision does not last for more than a the most fleeting of moments, for in a fluid motion she draws forth a cloth that covers her nakedness, walks swiftly across the room and throws open the window to the blinding light of the sun.

In another vision, I see the cool, grey mists of morning enter through my open window. Coming close on the heels of the mists, the dawn rests her fingers upon my window ledge, warming it and drawing colour to it. She then creeps over the sill, gazing down upon me in my slumber, and rests her hand upon my brow, lightly warming me with the warmth of her own touch. Her fingers trail across my face, brushing my hair behind my ear, touching my eyelids, and trailing across my lips and down my neck. Her fingers pass over my chest and stomach, warming them and drawing the first sigh of the morning from my body. She paints the room in fiery colours, drawing pinks, reds, and vibrant oranges across earth and sky. It is this gloriously painted heaven and earth that I view when I open my eyes and find her already gone, though I can still feel her touch and see the joy with which she has painted my world.

seamus_mcnasty

3cg_blog

The Stolen Wheel

It is said that long ago, when even the gods were young, Taranis, the Thunderer, saw Sulis, the Sun, bathing at dawn.

Each morning, Sulis would rise from the cosmic waters at the edge of the world. As she rose from the waters, she would blush deeply, and only a glimpse of her could be seen as she ascended into her chariot. No man was allowed to look upon her, for she was young and beautiful, untouched.

Once she had mounted her chariot, whose wheel is the sun, she would ride all day, the wheel shining brightly as it turned along the path, until she returned once again to her bath in the cosmic waters, the aquae sulis.

The god Taranis had heard of her beauty, and though he knew that it was not allowed, he went one morning to see her bathe. Cloaked in his stormclouds to hide his form, he went down to the waters' edge. Taranis was not subtle, however, and Sulis refused to leave the waters.

"Who is there?" she called out.

Thinking quickly, he disguised his voice. "It is I, Epona's handmaiden, come to see your horses."

"But there is nothing wrong with my horses," Sulis responded, puzzled.

"My Lady fears one may be lame. Let me check them while you prepare for your journey."

Sulis agreed, knowing now that it was no man, but a maiden who had come to visit her. As Taranis hid beneath his cloak of clouds, Sulis exited the waters. Instantly, he was struck with lust, and plotted to see more of her.

"How are my horses?" Sulis asked.

"They are fine, my dear," answered Taranis. "Now, be on your way."

And so Taranis watched in awe as she passed by him, wondering how he might see her, so beautiful and naked, again. She mounted the chariot, flicked her reins, and disappeared behind the bright, shining sun wheel.

Taranis knew he must see her again. To do this, he left and flew to the west, intent on stealing the wheel of the sun, for he could not look upon her while the wheel shone so brightly.

He set his ambush far away, placing his clouds in the sky in the west, knowing that she could only travel a fixed path. He waited until the afternoon, and then began to approach the chariot of the sun.

He cast wide his cloak of clouds, racing forth in his own thundering chariot, obscuring the light of Sulis by covering the wheel. He stole the wheel from the axle and hid it deep within the folds of his cloak, laughing peels of thunder at his cleverness.

But Sulis was no weak woman. She was far-seeing and knew things beyond earth, sea and sky. She knew her path, though the cloak of clouds was dark, and she called on the horses to follow it. As the horses pulled, she dismounted the chariot and lifted the axle on her own, carrying it forth, becoming bright herself in the process. Taranis was once again blinded, though this time it was with a beauty born of strength unexpected.

When Taranis saw this, he was in awe—so beautiful a goddess, and yet so strong in her own right. Ashamed, he averted his eyes, admitted the spying, and replaced the wheel. He set Sulis gently on her chariot, and began to ride his away.

As Sulis became once again visible in the daylight sky, and and the clouds receded, Taranis offered one final apology: he reflected the inner light of Sulis' beauty, and brought us the rainbow, the most magnificent display of fire in water.

Children of the earth, this is the story of the Wheel of the Sun, how the Thunderer stole it, and the beauty of his apology to an underestimated woman.

Today dawns the last of all dawns that have been
And the first of all dawns that will be.
Clothed in light, she appears in the east
Awakening man and beasts and lighting the fires of sacrifice.
Beloved of heaven, Usas unveils the treasures hidden by darkness,
Distributing them to all the pious who make sacrifice.

Usas, you have awakened me to the last dawn and the first,
And though each glimpse of you wastes my life, it prolongs it yet again.
Bringer of wealth, breath of life, warder against evil:
Let this be the first of many days I greet in your blessed light.

Truly, the heaven-bound boat is the Agnihotra sacrifice. The two sides of that heaven-bound boat are the Ahavaniya and the Garhapatya altars. Truly, the steersman of the boat is the milk-pouring priest.

-Satapatha Brahmana 2.3.3.15

Truly, unsteady ships are those which take the form of sacrifice: The eighteen [older sacred texts] in which the lesser [form of] action is stated. Those fools who praise this [doctrine] as better [than that which is revealed here], Truly they go again to old age and death.

-Mundaka Upanishad 1.2.7

vi.1. Prajapati, being desirous of propagation, underwent penance; from him when heated were born five, Agni, Vayu, Aditya, Candramas, and Usas as fifth. He said to them, 'Do ye also practise fervour.' They consecrated themselves; then when they had consecrated themsleves and had acquired fervour, Usas, offspring of Prajapati, taking the form of an Apsaras, came out in front of them; to her their minds inclined; they poured out seed; they went to Prajapati, their father, and said, 'We have poured out seed; let it not remain here.' Prajapati made a golden bowl, an arrow breadth in height and similar in breadth; in it he poured the seed; then arose he of a thousand eyes, of a thousand feet, with a thousand fitted (arrows).

• Practice my ASL
• Work on my book

tesinth

7:22 AM, September 25, 2006

• Stumble in front of the altar, no contacts in, wearing only a towel, fumbling for a match.
• Try to strike the match two or three times; finally get it lit.
• Light the three candles, and suddenly realize that I'm on my last match and that one of the key points of my devotionals is my attempt to light all candles off a single match.
• Decide to put off Usas' prayer, because my prayer to Epona indicates, "I light your candle," and that sounds really silly when you're not lighting a candle, or the candle is already lit, and I was holding the lit match in my hand.
• Say prayer to Epona.
• Say prayer to Usas.
• Realize I forgot to bring my triquettra up from the basement, and thus can't put it on.
• Take a moment to center myself anyway.
• Blow out my candles, and continue with the mad dash of getting ready for work.
• Go back to the basement to find my triquettra, and put it on.

1. Get your ass up on time. Rolling out of bed, dripping wet, half-naked, and completely unkepmt is no way to meet the Gods.
2. Evening devotionals ensure that all your morning devotionals will be set up and ready to go.
3. Epona has to come first in this, because of the wording of the prayer. Rituals should start one minute before the recognition of the sun setting or rising to time things right.
4. An old episode of the original Star Trek is not a valid reason to stay up until 2 AM the night before a major ritual change.