This is odd only because there seems to be a significant overlap between those folks who read science fiction and fantasy literature, or enjoy fantastic film and television shows, and who actively share and celebrate their pleasure by joining together at conventions to compare notes, create new fiction, costumes, songs or friendships - and folks who worship aspects of deity in earth-based religions through rituals that raise energy and work magick. In other words, a lot of pagans are SF fans, and vice versa. (Both of my definitions, of fans and pagans, are wildly simplified, with apologies all around.)
The convention at which the circle took place, Orycon, is an annual event in early November, held in a hotel in Portland, Oregon. The circle only happened because Ted, a program participant, begged the convention organizers not to schedule him opposite a circle, should one take place (I've given everyone pseudonyms because I don't have permission to use real names, and I don't know how to contact these people.) One of the organizers, himself pagan, thought a circle was a good idea, and put Ted and himself in charge.
I found the circle in the program guide listed as starting at midnight on Friday in the Nehalem room. It sounded like a suitably witchy hour, and the room name almost Kabbalistic, though probably a Native American word. When midnight arrived, I broke away from the parties and walked upstairs to the room, to find about 25 or 30 people sitting in chairs pushed against the walls. One man was crouched over an enormous milk-white bowl, coaxing from it an intensely loud, pure tone. In the middle of the room were Ted, dressed in his usual convention robes - red and blue cloth covered with stars - and the con organizer, Donald, dressed in unremarkable polo shirt and slacks. They explained how the circle had been added to the official program, and Donald explained further how pagans have been persecuted for their beliefs; this isn't news to anyone in the Craft, of course, but nearly half of the onlookers had never been in a circle before, so it may have been news to them.
Then Donald briefly described what the ritual would be about. Since Samhain had taken place only a week before, he considered that we were still in Samhain season. Historically, the festival had been celebrated for many days; therefore, we would do a circle in which we would rid ourselves of negative energies from the year just ending, and at the same time close the gates to the other world that had opened on October 31st. Ted was drafted as the high priest over his weak objections that he was still a student in a teaching coven. A woman named Patty stepped forward as high priestess, and four others volunteered to call the guardians of the four directions. (In most traditions people call the guardians, the directions themselves or the elements. These come in fours, representing all the forces that make up this universe and the greater reality that underlies it.)
Donald, Ted and Patty conferred briefly, then outlined the ritual and explained some of the ritual tools Donald had brought for the altar, including a small rack of antlers to represent the God and a medallion, representing the Goddess, that fit into the rack. First, Patty and Ted passed around the circle: Patty anointing the men, Ted the women. Following that Patty cut the circle. We faced each direction in turn as the four volunteers, brief but eloquent, called the guardians to join us. The high priestess also called spirit to be a part of the process. (A small child on a plastic scooter wove in and out among us, seeming to represent the fey.)
Patty and Ted then went around the circle, passing out matches. We each lit our match, concentrated on what we wanted to burn away from our year (some spoke aloud), and blew out the tiny flames. Patty came around the circle again, draped our heads with a deep blue silk scarf, and dragged it over our faces. Along with this gesture she muttered some words about the gate being closed; this was the heart of the ritual, and I found it moving and powerful, as though I had come out from some terrible, dark place into the light of day and life.
The main part of the ritual concluded with a symbolic Great Rite (a ritual gesture that represents the joining of the Goddess and God - or the opposing and complementary principles they symbolize - the gesture being the dipping of the male athamé's blade into the female chalice filled with wine or water), which surprised me a little: I've seldom seen this done at public rituals. No one had brought "cakes and ale" but there was water; we passed around the chalice into which the athamé had been dipped and sipped from that. Finally, the guardians were bid adieu and the circle was opened.
I took several things away from the circle, not least of which was a sense that even in such unlikely surroundings as a hotel meeting room, people who want to be part of a spiritual community can do so in a way that is meaningful and moving. It may that our common bond through our love of science fiction added power and focus to the circle, even though most of us were strangers and had not known in advance just where we would be at midnight on Friday. We were also aided by our leadership: Donald and Ted were clear in their intentions (despite Ted's early misgivings), and Patty in particular was practiced and authoritative. I hope that the circle is an annual event at Orycon. I'll be there next year to find out.
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