I’m late and I’d hate to delay her

“Perhaps it’s just as well that you won’t be here …
to be offended by the sight of our May Day celebrations.”
—Lord Summerisle to Sgt. Howie from The Wicker Man

I had a really beautiful Beltane. And I woke up a little.

Look, I am a very lame witch. I barely practice; I am not an active member of any group or coven… the festivals (sabbats) and moons come and go with very little attention from me.

But I am affiliated with a wiccan family, and I get invited to some of the big, more open events. Saturday was an all day affair sort of at Orien’s (don’t ask what that means), including a pot luck picnic, a maypole, and a ritual at night.

Friday, after finally burning off my migraine, I had to stop at the supermarket and then first go home and make 5 pounds of potato salad for the picnic.

(I make the best potato salad in the world.)

And I was doing well; my pacing was slow but steady, with making and eating dinner in between, groceries being put away and clean-up happening as I went along… until around 10:30pm when I sliced into my thumb. And I couldn’t get it to stop bleeding.

It’s hard to know what is the right thing to do. I supposed that if I had a child I would have decided earlier to go to the hospital. But I couldn’t tell if I needed it… and a trip to the hospital would keep me out for hours and I’d have to deal with paperwork and a stitch on my thumb would be SO annoying and I’d still come home to this kitchen full of potato salad. (Almost all the vegetables were cut and the potatoes were boiled and in the colander, waiting to be cut smaller, and the dressing was made and the eggs hard boiled but still in shells. I was so close.) So I kept it wrapped and iced and pressured. And worked slowly through my kitchen full of potato salad makings. And got it done. And once I stopped working and could concentrate on keeping the pressure on, the bleeding finally stopped. Last night, in fact, I did dishes without a band-aid. It’s over.

I had a really nice time at the picnic… there were around 30 people, who I know to a varying degree (some the oldest and closest, some I’d never seen before, and many in between). Lots of kids around. But it’s still me, in the state I’ve been in. So I fade in and out. I was crying to a pregnant woman at one point. Not like, stupid sobbing, but just enough to solicit a hug.

There were in fact quite a handful of pregnant woman and new babies.

I don’t usually do the maypole dance, but Orien told me to… as a woman looking for love and a relationship and a family, pretty much, Get in there. I’m glad I did. It’s a fun and beautiful ritual.

After that I was thinking, quite seriously, about leaving before the main ritual. I was tired with a long drive home, I’d done my ‘work’ in dancing the maypole, it would be cold and my back would hurt (the ritual was outdoors as well) and I was sad and also kind of full. (not food full, just day full.)

I am so glad that I stayed. It’s hard to describe the experience of being in circle. I could detail the specifics, but it won’t capture the sensation. I myself had certainly been out of touch with what I was in for; I was viewing it as more of a burden than a privilege. I’d forgotten simply what a truly magical and transformative event that it is. During the circle itself I am enjoying it and participatory and I am moved, but it’s afterwards that I’m sort of… wait, where was I? You truly slip between the worlds, and you always come back better for it. And it was particularly important, and this I already knew, that I be in this ritual, this Beltane celebration, this hoisting on our shoulders of all things green and fertile and sexual and loving.

And oh, I had a lovely encounter with a man. Just… a right flirtation with someone who, by all things in front of me, seemed like a great idea. I’ve met him and we’ve spoken before; this time his kids were there (4 and 7) (and the idea of a man with kids had been specifically on my mind for an entire week prior) and it just felt… good. I don’t think anything will come of it, and to be honest, he smells a little like Joe in that this is a guy whose teeth need to be pulled in order to get his real attention, and I want someone who just fucking basks in me without me telling him to.

But between hanging with this guy and being in this ritual, life has definitely been kicked back up. Hope and energy are restored. Now, how to maintain…