We have recently experienced Summer Solstice (or Midsummer) at the end of June. Midsummer is the part of the year that is warm and has the most light. This is something that we can physically feel and see, especially here in the Northwest where our days are so much longer and it is still light at 9:30 p.m. Midsummer is a visible manifestation of the changes all around us. It is the cycle at its pinnacle, a time of recognition and culmination. We have celebrated and reveled in the summer and warmth, enjoying the glory of Nature. As Her children, many of us gathered together as a magickal family and strengthened our web of support.
Summer Solstice rituals have been some of my favorite rituals for a long time. In fact when I first thought of pagan ritual, when I was a teenager and hadn't actually attended any, I always brought to mind the summer and the woods. Scenes from A Midsummer Night's Dream always drew me in, with the fey and all the mysteries that were brought forth on unknowing mortals. For me, there has always been a special kind of power in the air around us at the Summer Solstice. It is a time we can not only use the power of the increased light to see far into the evening, but also to illuminate that which is within us that may have been hidden in the darker parts of our own year. That was certainly true of my experience this year, which I would like to relay to you now.
When I first heard that my grove's Summer Solstice ritual would revolve around the activity of firewalking, I wasn't particularly thrilled. You see, I am a water sign; I would have been happier having it involve swimming, and perhaps lying in the sun. The thought of actually building a huge fire for the express purpose of creating a bed of red-hot coals, and then, rather than barbecuing on them, walking across them barefoot, seemed like a really bad idea to me.
It's interesting in a way, because we all have things that are our boundaries. I have done things in my life of which I had been afraid. I've given psychic readings at fairs where the number of people made the atmosphere seem more like the energy of a freeway than anything else. I have experienced the inner knowing of peace and vision in the midst of being pierced and flogged when I grew up with fear of needles and being struck. I've jumped off bridges into water a long way down. At one point in my life, I left financial security to "follow my bliss." I have even held fire in my hands. But to walk across it? That was my line, thank you very much.
As the ritual grew closer, I found myself thinking a lot about it and meditating on it, but I hadn't said anything to anyone else. Finally, a few days before the ritual my partner asked me if I was going to walk or not. I told him that I was in some fear around it all, that I wanted to walk but didn't know if I would. I said essentially the same thing to my friend and high priestess when she asked me a day or so later. She seemed to think that this was just the place to be.
I wasn't so sure. It did help to know that she had done quite a bit of firewalking, as had some of my other friends. But regardless of what she or anyone else had done, when it was my turn it would be just me and my precious feet standing before the fire. I decided that it was important that I acknowledge my fear, and also acknowledge my desire. I figured that was about all I could do until the actual event.
I waited for the upcoming day with excitement and concern. I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to tell if it was time for me to walk or not. I had heard people speak of "knowing that now is the time," and I'd been told that I would only know that day at that time if it was right. I was as much afraid of not being certain as I was afraid of being burned. This is an insight that has not been lost on me since.
I came to the ritual in a kind of awe. The setting was so beautiful I felt truly blessed. It was out far from the city, up a long hill. The view was particularly breathtaking. I felt still inside even through the midst of my fear. I felt very held by nature in this place. Our opening ritual had us all name and speak our fears; it was very powerful, and I sensed us come together as a group, young and old. We feasted and built this huge fire, circled around it and energized ourselves, were instructed in the coming firewalk. Then we ate a bit more, danced and allowed the dusk to come along with the coals.
It was time. Part of our instructions was to approach the fire three times, and if we felt the call of the fire only then to walk across. I have since heard that there are many ways to walk fire, but this was the one I experienced, so I listened to this instruction intently. The coals were raked out, so hot that it was uncomfortable to even walk close to them. We were silent, and the energy was building. I knew only one thing for certain, that I wasn't going to be the first person to walk across if I walked at all. But all through the experience, I had this gnawing sense that I would end up walking.
Then the first person walked across. I was amazed. And then another went; I was in wonder. Then I felt the fire call me. Now, as pagans, we work with the elements, and fire is certainly one of them. So it seems it shouldn't have been a surprise that fire would have a voice. But it was a surprise, and what was even more intense was that it called me by name. The following is what I wrote in my journal the day after the firewalk.
"It was amazing, the actual experience of approaching the fire three times, and hearing it call me by name, to walk through. The feeling of energy and fear rising up and flowing through me. I moved it with my hands up and out the top of my head, felt a call like the draw of a lover - to come, to come, to walk through the fire. And I did it! It reminded me of jumping off a diving board, of dying, that moment when you say 'Oh this is it, it's that time'... that kind of feeling.
"I walked onto the bed of hot coals and walked across it. I didn't feel any heat at all! It was soft as I walked, and that was all. I did it two other times, three times for the Goddess. The only time I felt heat was at the end of the last time at the end of the last run. I felt some hotness on my feet and then I was through. I knew I was done.
"While I was walking I felt totally present... I could shift my attention and one direction would make it start to get warm, the other would cease all temperature. It was so amazing. After I had walked the first time, after I was done. I was so profoundly moved. There were tears in my eyes, thankfulness in my heart. I did it. I did it alone, just me and the fire, and though not alone, me as part of everything, as part of a group, group consciousness that was held in possibility! Yes.
"It was like a baptism! A baptism with fire. This experience went into my subconscious mind... made things real that had only been theories, made things collapse that were lies. Made everything questionable! What is the nature of the universe? If this idea, my idea that fire has to equal burn, if this which was so primal a basis for my reality was false, then what else is actually possible?"
It was walking the talk in a big way.
I was very moved by my experience and by the experiences of all of us there. We really were a group acting for that period of time as a community with a common vision, a vision of successfully and safely walking. The power of the group was palpable, and in fact everyone who attended the ritual walked the fire beautifully and without incident. And I brought away from this solstice a sense of knowing, of how it really feels in the face of the seemingly impossible. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, from somewhere deep inside of me, that I would not be burned. I felt it as surely as if I had been walking across a soft mown lawn. I now know what that feels like; I can call it up. I also knew when my time was through and that if I had walked again, without the permission and invitation of the fire, I would surely have been burned.
Transformation is all around us and within us, and we use ritual to peak it or stimulate it or acknowledge it. It takes many forms. This year for me and the grove of which I am a member, at Summer Solstice it came in the form of walking on fire.
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