And so this was the fourteenth annual Spring Mysteries Festival (SMF) created and hosted by the Aquarian Tabernacle Church (ATC). Headquartered in Index, WA, the folks at the ATC have over the years done tremendous work for and about the neo-pagan, Wiccan and witchcraft communities, such as gaining U.S. legal recognition to safeguard and openly practice this religious or spiritual belief system. Special recognition must go to all of the staff, ritual drama cast, Debbie Hudson as festival director and Debi Herrington as ritual drama director for their expertise at making such a huge undertaking so flawless and beautiful. This year's festival was dedicated to Jay Herrington, who in the past had carried the god form of the Dark Lord in the ritual drama and who was tragically killed in an automobile accident last year.
Travelers numbering over 300 had come to attend from all over, including Washington, Oregon, Utah, British Columbia, Alberta and even guests from the ATC affiliated Wiccan church in faraway Australia.
Historically, people would come from all over ancient Greece and journey to the town of Eleusis, about 16 miles from Athens. There, at the Telesterion or great temple of Demeter, they were witnesses to things seen and unseen, under a strict oath of silence.
At this year's SMF, the excitement produced by the first-time attendees or Mystai was contagious. I found myself giddy with expectancy, yet also holding my own oath-bound tongue. My fellow travelers new to the festival would be able to develop their own unique and pure perspectives on the event and in particular what it meant to them individually, in relation to their own unique lives.
This was my seventh SMF over the past 10 years. The weather was the most pleasant overall that I can recall. The festival is held on a beautiful Northwest island, and upon arrival the sky was so clear that all of the Cascades were unveiled before us across Puget Sound. The moon rose, just gibbous, and shimmered so brightly off the sea waves as to dazzle the beholder.
Throughout the weekend, there were so many choices and so much energy that I hardly had time for sleep. There were various fascinating workshops and lectures, and as usual, a plethora of merchant stands from which jewelry, art, ritual tools and supplies, books, herbs, clothing and even tattooing were available. During the fun-filled Pagan Talent Show, I laughed so hard I thought I would burst, and my soul soared as I listened to the stunning singing voices and inspired songs.
Various small cabins at the site were well-utilized as ritual shrines and classrooms. The main ritual drama must be experienced first-hand, and of that I will not speak or write. Within this ritual backdrop were other circles and rituals, including several independent ones.
A favorite is the skyclad ritual, led again this year by High Priestess Betsy. I had a particularly exhilarating experience. First, we were ritually purified. Then, after a series of delightful circle dances, we drew down the Goddess and the God into each of the participants. This step surprised me a little. In past SMF skyclad rituals, those who were working couples or who had wanted to had come into the center of the circle for the drawing down. I thought the change for everyone to participate helped allow those folks without a designated partner, or who hadn't planned ahead with a partner, to experience the divine energy directly.
Now, the tradition in which we were operating uses the female and male genders as an expression of the polarities with which many folks in Wiccan and witchcraft rituals are familiar. This may play on the sexual attraction that is often present between male and female genders. Some of my gay friends who participated found the gender role typing restrictive. I myself, although gay, am comfortable working in this fashion. For in some ways, having the perspective of a gay male made it even more of a gift to have a chance to experience female energy and the Goddess connection through women, since as a gay man, I spend much of my time with other men. Regardless, to me the divine energy and the experience of carrying that energy in my body clearly transcend any physical differences in plumbing.
I was glad to be across from my high priestess while the Goddess was drawn down. I could see the divine energy around her. Her hair glowed, and she had the smile of a young maiden, yet with the look of wisdom, yet not threatening: peaceful yet powerful.
When it was the men's turn, I cleared my mind. We were calling the Lord of the Ocean. Immediately upon hearing the women's voices chanting the invocation response, a rush of energy came through me. I felt it directly dissecting my head parallel to the floor. I heard the crash of ocean waves. I kept a lid on it. I was not going to just play along with the drawing down but wanted to truly feel it deeply. Then I knew that I could also block the energy: This was not a forced rite. I had responsibility for my own experience. I let the feelings arise as they would. The power I felt did not take over; it came through me and from within me. And I knew I had to allow the energy to well up from within me, and then I could merge with it and watch it. It was still me, but the visions and sensations were like viewing a play from behind the stage. The energy I had felt coming through my head was like a vast plane of ocean water. It was as if my mind/ego was literally surrounded by water in all directions, but I was not drowning. Rather, the water moved all around me, as if my mind/ ego were a small island in a vast sea. My awareness stretched out in all directions, and the water was the medium of my intelligence.
I could taste salt and fish. Inside my psyche, I had the vision of a gull, and I could look down over the ocean as the waves hit rocks on the seashore. I saw the green of seaweed, and I tasted the fishy sea taste, and it was good to me. It was nourishment. It was life. Again came the crash of the waves.
Now, with my eyes opened, I could see a sparkling light, like diamonds superimposed over my field of vision in the candlelit room. With each sparkle, I felt a tingling sensation of power. It seemed that I was about to float up, and I remembered my grounding. I felt the energy channeling through me. Like surfing, I was riding the crest of the wave.
When it was time, we grounded, and I grounded. We devoked, and I let the rush of the waves pass from me gently.
In the ancient days of Greece, the last thing the initiates saw before entering the great temple of Demeter was a sign over the entrance-way that read "Know Thyself." In the words of a dear friend who was new to the Craft in general and also at his first festival, "If you come away learning something about yourself, then you've grown. I saw people all over, whether they wanted to or not, learning about themselves. A lot of stuff came up that had to be worked through."
Indeed, for each the work was unique; yet for all, it was transformative and renewing. And so the cycle continues.
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