Twilight Covening 6: Moondancer
Post 4 is my series about my 2016 Twilight Covening experience. In this post, I talk about the visioning ritual, the big event of the weekend that generally draws together the overall themes of this year's gathering.
I'm sure that I'm going to miss a ton of details in this part, as I wasn't able to journal about it afterwards; from the visioning ritual up to the close of Twilight, I was straight out busy, so I just didn't have the moment.
I already missed a detail in my last post that I don't want to forget. While we were waiting to leave for the visioning ritual. I was keeping an eye out for my clan mates. I noticed one of them standing across the room from me with his partner, who was also in the clan. She was massaging his shoulder. From my perspective, I could see the arching curves and lines of his energy from across the room, and the sigils floating about him like musical notes. Curious, I advanced across to him. In his energy, there were twists and barbs, intentions trapped within the debris of other intentions, and a lot of potency, but wild and loose, much of it being lost from him. I gestured to him about whether I could apply my heart to him (the best I could do in hand signs), and he agreed. I lit up his sigils; I boosted his intentions, allowing some of the debris to be shaken off. As they turned and moved in the more proper way, some of the lost energy started moving back toward him rather than floating away. It was good and easy work, and I felt a certain compulsion beyond me to help. I felt pleased thereafter, even though my sense of exactly what I'd been drawn to was unclear.
In any case, the ritual was done in clan groups. My group gathered, a lamp was raised by our guide, and we started walking. Our first trip was very short, over to a near-by building, the one typically used for dream circle. Here we were directed into a sort of a dance, reaching forward to take the right hand of the person before us, pulling them by and passing them on the right, then taking the next person in our left hand, and passing them on the left - so basically, one group of people moving around the circle in one direction, one moving in the other, weaving back and forth around each other. When we were told to stop, we were directed to look into the person before us and mark upon their face what we see there - some simple drawing that captures something that you perceive. This was particularly tricky for me, since I see marks on people all the time, but they aren't typically pictures (sometimes, but that is less regular). I had to relax, capture the eyes of the person across from me, and then just let it come to me. After doing the drawings, the circle would turn again, and we'd mark someone else. My clan had a bit of difficulty with the dance the first time, had it about half right the second time, and by the final turn, we were masters. When I looked into the people before me, I saw a cat on one person; a ram's head on another; a humming bird on the last person. More over, I saw depths of curiosity, passion, love, and wonder in each of them. It was a very connecting exercise, and it was quick. Each time someone was painting on my face, it seemed like they were painting for several minutes, even though it was never that long. There were no mirrors, so we could see what was on each other, but not what was on our own faces.
This done, we set out into the darkness again. It was a blustery night, and the wind in the trees damped down about every sound. The moon was bright, but a lot of our walking was in fairly dense forest. Our journey led us past a fire where a pair of primitive-looking people stood before each other - a man and a women, both bare on the top. They were covered in ash and dirty, and they appeared to be drawing upon each other. This was a reflection back to painting that we'd done on each other just moments before; for me, it was a striking scene because it fits visions that I have about how sigils are supposed to be marked upon a body - with mud, mashed berries, and ash, using the fingers.
After a little bit of a walk, our point person led us to a rocky, fern and tree-filled part of the woods on a partial incline, crisscrossed with downed trees. Lights were scattered about, in among the ferns and underbrush, giving the area a magical quality. The group gathered and our guide told us to explore and be present; she would ring a chime when it was time to move on. I walked about; because I do so much walking in the forest, it was easy for me, but I was definitely thinking at the time that this would be difficult on folk who had poor ankles, as some of my clan mates did. Here and there throughout the area were little shrine-like areas, where there was a question or two written. There were all sort of different questions, many of which I don't recall. I do remember the plaques asking "What is my passion?" and "What do I love?" It had been a long weekend by that point, and the work before had really opened me up. As such, these questions were able to probe right down into me, and sadness welled up and out of me. I had a hard time seeing at some points because I was feeling so affected. Many of the questions wouldn't on the surface seem all that deep, but I was in a deep place. They were questions that I felt like I should have ready answers for. The fact that I had difficulty identifying what my passion was, for example, made me feel sore and hollow. Through the questions, I could feel the world reaching out to me, asking me to see it, wanting to join with me, to share with me, to be present with it, and yet I knew I was distant and sheltered from it, protecting myself from contact and pain rather than engaging. As is often the case, sitting with myself and exploring me reveals the most scary and difficult things. Odds are it is why I keep myself so damn busy.
Our guide led us on for a while and then stopped and gathered us up. She blew out her lamp, plunging us into darkness. For several moments, we were just present with the darkness and silence. I remember having the observation in this moment that everyone in my clan made me feel energetically comfortable. Having their presences gathered about me in the darkness, shoulder to shoulder, I felt warm, open, and safe. That was a lovely feeling.
At this point, our guide directed us to put on our blindfold, and then she worked to get us in walking order. A blindfolded walk is a really common part of the visioning ritual. As is typical, we started off the walk awkwardly, with people having difficulty keeping their place in the line, even though we were guided by a rope with knots for our position. The start of the blindfolded time often involves a lot of chatter in my head, and this was no different. I was taking in what I was hearing from those around me. I was worrying about folks getting hurt. I was fretting about occasionally stepping on the back of the shoe of the person ahead of me, or going too slow, causing the people behind me to step on me. My mind was full of logistics "If I were running this kind of ritual..." I was also thinking about all the past situations where I'd been on this walk, wondering about how my first-time-to-twilight clan mates were doing, especially those that were nervous about being blindfolded. I was reflecting back on the weekend, and thinking ahead. Basically, doing everything except being present. I started thinking about the dance from the night before, which used a right foot stamp for timing. So, I started doing a loud step with my right foot for each step. Quickly, people picked up on it, and we began to march. The rhythm of the march settled into my body and then my mind, and I started to drift free, only semi-conscious of time passing, entranced by the sound. My only distraction - the shoe lace of the person ahead of me in line had come undone and I was occasionally stepping on it. Fortunately, we eventually found a walking order where that was reduced, and I was able to get into a march trance. When we reached the other end of our journey and our guides stopped me, I was so in the head space that I marched in place for many seconds beyond full stop, until I was guided to a chair.
Blindfolded, we were directed to call out to the night the various labels we wear, in the structure of "I am x-thing!" We were to keep doing this until we ran out of labels, at which point we would fall back to just saying "I am, I am" over and over. Turns out that I had a lot of labels; once I peeled past the obvious ones, I moved on the the less readily determinable ones, such as "I am bi", "I'm poly", "I am a gamer", "I am a leader", "I am a healer", "I am a storyteller." It is surprising how many of these I had in there. Eventually, I was calling out more obscure ones, ones more unique to me. "I am one who is in-between", "I am the star walker", "I am the old one", "I am his coiled tail", "I am the fire." I can't recall all of them, but eventually I ran out; my mind cleared of all my labels; it felt as if all the windows and doors of my mind had been opened up and the night wind and moonlight were blowing in. "I am" became a chant, with different folks gradually morphing it over time. My sound became more of a "Iommmmm"; one person near me continued with very clear but very fast "IAM,IAM,IAM!" without seemingly taking a breath. Other folks blurred far off from our original words, and soon the forest was filled with a sort of a song. It was bright and warm and true, composed of all of our voices, while it was still possible to recognize individual voices.
When my guides took me out of my chair and led me away, I felt completely empty, and easy to lead. They took me off a bit and then they whispered to me that I should open my eyes and see. It took me a moment to register that they were telling me that I could take off my blindfold. When I did, there was someone standing just a few feet ahead of me, a kind-eyed being with a quirk of a world-weary smile on his face. The figure had eyes on his cheeks, and slashing lines that divided his face. It took me a few long seconds to get that I was standing before a mirror. I greeted myself silently (as we were still in quiet time) and I wept. For some reason, it was like seeing a friend that I'd not seen in many years - someone loved and important, but whom had been away. I told me that I'd missed myself, and I responded that I was always here with me; we always walked this path together, even when I forgot and thought I was alone. I smiled a grand smile and cried at the same time, my vision blurring. Eventually I gathered myself and moved along, down the path, feeling notably more complete than I had in a while.
There was a being there, who told me to be free. Beyond him, I wandered into a large open field, surrounded by dense woods. There was music. A harp near by; a flute far away. The moon was brilliant, so brilliant, and the sky and weather was perfect. I smile and laughed. I took in the great sky above me. I marveled at the high production values of this event, attributing the weather and the sky to the work of the clan leaders. There were so many stars. I saw two brilliant shooting stars. The great beast of the heavens, a vast creature that I had encountered at a past Twilight was present. The curl of its tail was about this part of the cosmos, so it wasn't far away, and it could recall me from before and remembered who I was truly, beyond this body. It reminded me that I'd chosen this path, knowing full well the cost. It had, in fact, been made curious about such things after our last encounter, and it had pondered the possibilities and dreamed upon existing as living beings do. It assured me that if I was bored that it could twitch its tail and undo all of this feathery-nonsense; I told it that I was not, that I just forgot what I was about sometimes.
Others were wandering the field, some were running about wildly, crying out to the night. Some spun, as I did, taking in the sky. Others lay on the ground and laughed and laughed. I spent a while wandering the field, taking in the miracle that the night was, and being in no particular hurry to move on. After looping the whole field and enjoying the time a great deal, I started wandering on; shortly I could hear drums, and I knew that I was coming to the end. By happenstance, I ran into Omly on the trail, heading the other direction. She took up with me and we walked on, coming to the final fire. There were two gazing bowls there too, and an entity that had a sort of a pan-like drum filled with tiny grains. When the being moved the drum, the moving grains made a sound like the rush of the sea or a powerful wind. When I looked into the gazing bowls, I saw myself and only myself. It was a simple thing, but I was without any particular mind noise at that moment. The me I saw in the bowls was the greater me, the one that I so missed; it was pleasing to see it again in that evening.
The fire was huge, there was an excellent drumming circle, and a lot of singing and chanting. The energy was quite high, and it drew me in. I took many dancing loops around the fire, discarding my coats. Around and around until I was sweaty and smiling broadly. After that, I stood and watched the other dancers, enjoying their enthusiasm. Things grew more exciting and wild; many shirts were removed, and there was some semi-naked dancers about the fire; I'm pretty sure that was the first time I'd seen that at Twilight Covening. It was great that everyone, including me, was feeling so open and free.
The ritual wrapped so I and everyone else made their way back toward the dining hall. I was by myself, and my mind explored the experience. It was satisfying, and it also seemed like it was one of the shortest visioning rituals that I'd been on. The shortness was fine; I got a lot out of it, and was feeling very charged up when I arrived at the dining hall. I was freed from my silence, but I had signed up for the night kitchen shift. It was appropriate on a water day that I would end it washing dishes for an hour. I primarily missed dinner, but that was ok; it was well past midnight, and I wasn't hungry. I did briefly see some of my clan mates, and we went over our experiences just a little bit, but everyone was tired. Surprisingly, I went back to the cabin and took a shower. I had heard that it was supposed to be particularly cold the next day, so I wasn't going to want to shower in the morning (technically later in the morning). It was a good choice - the shower was warm, since no one else was using it.
One of the points that I failed to mention in the details above: at the end of the three scenes, we were given a little wrapped gift, in white gauze-like material. I received each of these, stuck them in my pocket, brought them home after the weekend, and put them on my alter. I still have no idea what is in them. I told myself that I would unwrap them after I finished posting about my Twilight experience, so still some more time to wait yet.
Likely, only one more post to go!
I'm sure that I'm going to miss a ton of details in this part, as I wasn't able to journal about it afterwards; from the visioning ritual up to the close of Twilight, I was straight out busy, so I just didn't have the moment.
I already missed a detail in my last post that I don't want to forget. While we were waiting to leave for the visioning ritual. I was keeping an eye out for my clan mates. I noticed one of them standing across the room from me with his partner, who was also in the clan. She was massaging his shoulder. From my perspective, I could see the arching curves and lines of his energy from across the room, and the sigils floating about him like musical notes. Curious, I advanced across to him. In his energy, there were twists and barbs, intentions trapped within the debris of other intentions, and a lot of potency, but wild and loose, much of it being lost from him. I gestured to him about whether I could apply my heart to him (the best I could do in hand signs), and he agreed. I lit up his sigils; I boosted his intentions, allowing some of the debris to be shaken off. As they turned and moved in the more proper way, some of the lost energy started moving back toward him rather than floating away. It was good and easy work, and I felt a certain compulsion beyond me to help. I felt pleased thereafter, even though my sense of exactly what I'd been drawn to was unclear.
In any case, the ritual was done in clan groups. My group gathered, a lamp was raised by our guide, and we started walking. Our first trip was very short, over to a near-by building, the one typically used for dream circle. Here we were directed into a sort of a dance, reaching forward to take the right hand of the person before us, pulling them by and passing them on the right, then taking the next person in our left hand, and passing them on the left - so basically, one group of people moving around the circle in one direction, one moving in the other, weaving back and forth around each other. When we were told to stop, we were directed to look into the person before us and mark upon their face what we see there - some simple drawing that captures something that you perceive. This was particularly tricky for me, since I see marks on people all the time, but they aren't typically pictures (sometimes, but that is less regular). I had to relax, capture the eyes of the person across from me, and then just let it come to me. After doing the drawings, the circle would turn again, and we'd mark someone else. My clan had a bit of difficulty with the dance the first time, had it about half right the second time, and by the final turn, we were masters. When I looked into the people before me, I saw a cat on one person; a ram's head on another; a humming bird on the last person. More over, I saw depths of curiosity, passion, love, and wonder in each of them. It was a very connecting exercise, and it was quick. Each time someone was painting on my face, it seemed like they were painting for several minutes, even though it was never that long. There were no mirrors, so we could see what was on each other, but not what was on our own faces.
This done, we set out into the darkness again. It was a blustery night, and the wind in the trees damped down about every sound. The moon was bright, but a lot of our walking was in fairly dense forest. Our journey led us past a fire where a pair of primitive-looking people stood before each other - a man and a women, both bare on the top. They were covered in ash and dirty, and they appeared to be drawing upon each other. This was a reflection back to painting that we'd done on each other just moments before; for me, it was a striking scene because it fits visions that I have about how sigils are supposed to be marked upon a body - with mud, mashed berries, and ash, using the fingers.
After a little bit of a walk, our point person led us to a rocky, fern and tree-filled part of the woods on a partial incline, crisscrossed with downed trees. Lights were scattered about, in among the ferns and underbrush, giving the area a magical quality. The group gathered and our guide told us to explore and be present; she would ring a chime when it was time to move on. I walked about; because I do so much walking in the forest, it was easy for me, but I was definitely thinking at the time that this would be difficult on folk who had poor ankles, as some of my clan mates did. Here and there throughout the area were little shrine-like areas, where there was a question or two written. There were all sort of different questions, many of which I don't recall. I do remember the plaques asking "What is my passion?" and "What do I love?" It had been a long weekend by that point, and the work before had really opened me up. As such, these questions were able to probe right down into me, and sadness welled up and out of me. I had a hard time seeing at some points because I was feeling so affected. Many of the questions wouldn't on the surface seem all that deep, but I was in a deep place. They were questions that I felt like I should have ready answers for. The fact that I had difficulty identifying what my passion was, for example, made me feel sore and hollow. Through the questions, I could feel the world reaching out to me, asking me to see it, wanting to join with me, to share with me, to be present with it, and yet I knew I was distant and sheltered from it, protecting myself from contact and pain rather than engaging. As is often the case, sitting with myself and exploring me reveals the most scary and difficult things. Odds are it is why I keep myself so damn busy.
Our guide led us on for a while and then stopped and gathered us up. She blew out her lamp, plunging us into darkness. For several moments, we were just present with the darkness and silence. I remember having the observation in this moment that everyone in my clan made me feel energetically comfortable. Having their presences gathered about me in the darkness, shoulder to shoulder, I felt warm, open, and safe. That was a lovely feeling.
At this point, our guide directed us to put on our blindfold, and then she worked to get us in walking order. A blindfolded walk is a really common part of the visioning ritual. As is typical, we started off the walk awkwardly, with people having difficulty keeping their place in the line, even though we were guided by a rope with knots for our position. The start of the blindfolded time often involves a lot of chatter in my head, and this was no different. I was taking in what I was hearing from those around me. I was worrying about folks getting hurt. I was fretting about occasionally stepping on the back of the shoe of the person ahead of me, or going too slow, causing the people behind me to step on me. My mind was full of logistics "If I were running this kind of ritual..." I was also thinking about all the past situations where I'd been on this walk, wondering about how my first-time-to-twilight clan mates were doing, especially those that were nervous about being blindfolded. I was reflecting back on the weekend, and thinking ahead. Basically, doing everything except being present. I started thinking about the dance from the night before, which used a right foot stamp for timing. So, I started doing a loud step with my right foot for each step. Quickly, people picked up on it, and we began to march. The rhythm of the march settled into my body and then my mind, and I started to drift free, only semi-conscious of time passing, entranced by the sound. My only distraction - the shoe lace of the person ahead of me in line had come undone and I was occasionally stepping on it. Fortunately, we eventually found a walking order where that was reduced, and I was able to get into a march trance. When we reached the other end of our journey and our guides stopped me, I was so in the head space that I marched in place for many seconds beyond full stop, until I was guided to a chair.
Blindfolded, we were directed to call out to the night the various labels we wear, in the structure of "I am x-thing!" We were to keep doing this until we ran out of labels, at which point we would fall back to just saying "I am, I am" over and over. Turns out that I had a lot of labels; once I peeled past the obvious ones, I moved on the the less readily determinable ones, such as "I am bi", "I'm poly", "I am a gamer", "I am a leader", "I am a healer", "I am a storyteller." It is surprising how many of these I had in there. Eventually, I was calling out more obscure ones, ones more unique to me. "I am one who is in-between", "I am the star walker", "I am the old one", "I am his coiled tail", "I am the fire." I can't recall all of them, but eventually I ran out; my mind cleared of all my labels; it felt as if all the windows and doors of my mind had been opened up and the night wind and moonlight were blowing in. "I am" became a chant, with different folks gradually morphing it over time. My sound became more of a "Iommmmm"; one person near me continued with very clear but very fast "IAM,IAM,IAM!" without seemingly taking a breath. Other folks blurred far off from our original words, and soon the forest was filled with a sort of a song. It was bright and warm and true, composed of all of our voices, while it was still possible to recognize individual voices.
When my guides took me out of my chair and led me away, I felt completely empty, and easy to lead. They took me off a bit and then they whispered to me that I should open my eyes and see. It took me a moment to register that they were telling me that I could take off my blindfold. When I did, there was someone standing just a few feet ahead of me, a kind-eyed being with a quirk of a world-weary smile on his face. The figure had eyes on his cheeks, and slashing lines that divided his face. It took me a few long seconds to get that I was standing before a mirror. I greeted myself silently (as we were still in quiet time) and I wept. For some reason, it was like seeing a friend that I'd not seen in many years - someone loved and important, but whom had been away. I told me that I'd missed myself, and I responded that I was always here with me; we always walked this path together, even when I forgot and thought I was alone. I smiled a grand smile and cried at the same time, my vision blurring. Eventually I gathered myself and moved along, down the path, feeling notably more complete than I had in a while.
There was a being there, who told me to be free. Beyond him, I wandered into a large open field, surrounded by dense woods. There was music. A harp near by; a flute far away. The moon was brilliant, so brilliant, and the sky and weather was perfect. I smile and laughed. I took in the great sky above me. I marveled at the high production values of this event, attributing the weather and the sky to the work of the clan leaders. There were so many stars. I saw two brilliant shooting stars. The great beast of the heavens, a vast creature that I had encountered at a past Twilight was present. The curl of its tail was about this part of the cosmos, so it wasn't far away, and it could recall me from before and remembered who I was truly, beyond this body. It reminded me that I'd chosen this path, knowing full well the cost. It had, in fact, been made curious about such things after our last encounter, and it had pondered the possibilities and dreamed upon existing as living beings do. It assured me that if I was bored that it could twitch its tail and undo all of this feathery-nonsense; I told it that I was not, that I just forgot what I was about sometimes.
Others were wandering the field, some were running about wildly, crying out to the night. Some spun, as I did, taking in the sky. Others lay on the ground and laughed and laughed. I spent a while wandering the field, taking in the miracle that the night was, and being in no particular hurry to move on. After looping the whole field and enjoying the time a great deal, I started wandering on; shortly I could hear drums, and I knew that I was coming to the end. By happenstance, I ran into Omly on the trail, heading the other direction. She took up with me and we walked on, coming to the final fire. There were two gazing bowls there too, and an entity that had a sort of a pan-like drum filled with tiny grains. When the being moved the drum, the moving grains made a sound like the rush of the sea or a powerful wind. When I looked into the gazing bowls, I saw myself and only myself. It was a simple thing, but I was without any particular mind noise at that moment. The me I saw in the bowls was the greater me, the one that I so missed; it was pleasing to see it again in that evening.
The fire was huge, there was an excellent drumming circle, and a lot of singing and chanting. The energy was quite high, and it drew me in. I took many dancing loops around the fire, discarding my coats. Around and around until I was sweaty and smiling broadly. After that, I stood and watched the other dancers, enjoying their enthusiasm. Things grew more exciting and wild; many shirts were removed, and there was some semi-naked dancers about the fire; I'm pretty sure that was the first time I'd seen that at Twilight Covening. It was great that everyone, including me, was feeling so open and free.
The ritual wrapped so I and everyone else made their way back toward the dining hall. I was by myself, and my mind explored the experience. It was satisfying, and it also seemed like it was one of the shortest visioning rituals that I'd been on. The shortness was fine; I got a lot out of it, and was feeling very charged up when I arrived at the dining hall. I was freed from my silence, but I had signed up for the night kitchen shift. It was appropriate on a water day that I would end it washing dishes for an hour. I primarily missed dinner, but that was ok; it was well past midnight, and I wasn't hungry. I did briefly see some of my clan mates, and we went over our experiences just a little bit, but everyone was tired. Surprisingly, I went back to the cabin and took a shower. I had heard that it was supposed to be particularly cold the next day, so I wasn't going to want to shower in the morning (technically later in the morning). It was a good choice - the shower was warm, since no one else was using it.
One of the points that I failed to mention in the details above: at the end of the three scenes, we were given a little wrapped gift, in white gauze-like material. I received each of these, stuck them in my pocket, brought them home after the weekend, and put them on my alter. I still have no idea what is in them. I told myself that I would unwrap them after I finished posting about my Twilight experience, so still some more time to wait yet.
Likely, only one more post to go!