Both darkness and cold feel deeper tonight than they have so far this season. The stillness of the land is profound. The frozen ground lends a sharper ring to the silence, which echoes among bare branches bereft of sound-absorbing leaves. Shivering inside and out, I greet the night and its spirits.
“Hail, Spirit of Night, Mother of Darkness. May there be peace between us. Hail, Star People. May your candles of the night sky keep us company as we dream under the blanket of the Dark Mother. May her embrace be warm until she births us to the morning’s light.”
Through my shivering I am finding it difficult to center myself, to connect consciously with the magical current running through the land. Yet what overwhelms my senses despite my lagging efforts is the all-encompassing presence of the Mother of Darkness, the Dark Mother. Her stillness is imperious. Her frost is as emotionally chilling as it is literally so. She is resplendent in her star-bejeweled gown, proud and regal. She demands instant respect. Not fear exactly, but she is intimidating and imposing, which is unnerving. She will brook no equivocation; she does not negotiate. Her embrace is absolute. One might dislike it, find it disturbing, but one does not reject it. Acceptance seems the path of least resistance, and I am content to at least be able to do so from a warm shelter. Inside walls, one can turn on lights, televisions, music devices, facebook in an attempt to shut her out, to negate her influence. A few moments of devoted time spent with her is enough for me to realize that such attempts are feeble compared with her power. She has arrived, and she must be reckoned with. Not to conquer or vanquish her, or to tangle with her in search of victory over her, but to open to her and dance with her. She always leads. She holds the space for winter dreaming, knowing the dreaming is necessary to our regeneration, that we must enter into the dark eventually, and knows that we will come to her in the end. Her certainty is complete, and so she makes no demands, she simply expects, aware she will not be disappointed. I sense I am entering into her space, her time, her mountain, her faery mound, her tomb, her womb. I sense things of value and meaning will be revealed to me, or will come to me, be gleaned by me- which will be all the same. If it becomes overwhelming, I will recall the Star People above who are watching, and sitting with me, keeping vigil over the reign of the Dark Queen, and call on their company, their dancing merriment, should the dark become too oppressive. Because they are a part of it, they will not offend or attempt to obliterate the Mother of Darkness.
So, Dark Mother, in your time and season, I open to you, and to your dance. May there be peace between us.