"Tonight you'll hear it two planets away." R said indifferently as we arrive at the top of Red Mountain. We're hopped up on joy at the end of a long work-week, and giddily agree. Again the bell, again the trumpets, again making way for things to burn.
The tools of the trade: Fox Goggles so we can see, Tobacco for the make-shift shamans and the spirit's Three, Peacock Hat for R and D. The Frying Pan and Zine -- once cleaned with tobacco, set in the center of our company. Red Mountain at the Golden Hour. Kerosene.
We begin with more bells, the Circle, and the Welcoming of Benevolence in all directions. Tonight is the presentation of Art. Tonight is the Ritual for Fox, and he reads from Grim Love.
The Words are spoke and our anticipation mounts. Where's that Fire we like?
Fox breaks out the matches and D the Kerosene. We saturate the Zine. We light the match and. . . it goes out from a slight wind. Damn tricksters. We light another match and this time welcome the Fire!
The Zine burns for a good half hour. Potent words. We stand in silence the whole time.
SB finds a symbol and points it out, says no water can ever touch this now.
More Tobacco.
Fox and D take up the Frying Pan and walk the circle, smudging Red Mountain.
"We thought it was nice before, but now it's sacred ground."
The ashes are scattered and the unburnt pages kept.
The Ritual is finished, everyone in attendance is thanked.
R was right. Venus and Jupiter are now shining in the West, catching our attention above the twilight.
SB after the Ritual.