The Long Sleep

     It is the coming of the Long Sleep again. The days grow shorter and nights grow ever longer. A chill begins to permeate all things. All the crops are going to rest for the winter. Along with the flowers and the trees. The bears and bees and all else hibernate. Mother Nature herself settles in for the ultimate of rests.

     The women and girls of the village are all gathering the kindling and wood for the bonfire. It is vital to the ceremony tonight. Thus we are performing an important duty. It should be observed with the same reverence as the rest of the day. Some of the younger girls do not understand the importance of this function.

     Instead, they are busy chattering away. Rather than focusing on the task given to them, they are babbling about the young men and boys hunting for the evening feast. Who is the fairest? Who is the kindest of heart? Who is likely to be the best kisser? Foolish things that school girls allow to occupy their hearts.

     I am focused on the import and sacredness task at hand. We are scouting the forest for the best wood. So that we may create the mightiest bonfire. One befitting the seasonal departure of our Mother Goddess of Nature.

     She who controls the seasons and wills the death of the life of our crops. She who at a whim will allow us to live or die. The Dread Goddess of Mother Nature. The young do not realize it yet, but the Long Sleep comes for us all.

    But now the warmth bringing sun starts to creep back towards the horizon. The day grows chilly in a small apery of the greater seasonal decline. We walk back to camp with our bundles for the fire.

     On the way back the younger girls pipe up when they see the men and boys returning from the hunt. Some of the young girls wave enthusiastically to their brothers when they spot them. Other groups of the girls who have grown older giggle in groups while pointing at boys their age.

     I spot the young man I have spent a few seasons with now. We smile and wave at each other across the distance. Our groups continue to get closer to one another until finally, we intermingle as we join back up at the village. My young man and I walked together while helping with the final preparation for tonight. We discuss the events of our trips, our prayers for the ceremony tonight, and our hopes for the future.

     The bonfire jumps higher into the night sky now. Its tips so far above they are dancing with the stars. A grand feast has been set out by the rest of the village while the young folk have been out gathering. Tonight is the harvest ceremony. We will thank our Mother Earth Goddess for the earth-bound goods she has given us. We will thank her for the life she has given us.

     Many fine things have been prepared for sacrifice at the bonfire for tonight. There are loaves of bread and cakes filled with the milk and eggs our animals produce. Only the best of the grains, fruits, and vegetables have been contributed to the sacrificial pile. Some of the animals caught on the hunt today will be sacrificed whole; while others will be prepared for storage during the Long Sleep time. All the sacrificial items are placed in baskets by priests and acolytes to the goddess. As they added each item they led the village in the appropriate chant or prayer.

     I stood next to the man with whom I have been growing a life. We joined hands and intertwined our fingers while we prayed. The village performed these ceremonies to honor Mother Earth. We hope she will bless us with a bountiful harvest, a good hunt, and prosperity for our village.

     I gently placed my other hand over my belly. I looked at the man I was more than a little fond of by now. The two of us are hoping the seed we have planted will have a strong blessing from our Mother Goddess as well.

     As the ceremonies are nearing their end the grand sacrifice approaches. He has been preparing for this moment his entire life. We are all prepared for this should it come to it. Though most of the formal preparation had occurred in the last four months when it became clear who it would be ultimately.

     He was old, the chosen one always was elderly. Someone on the lip of death, for whom all peers have passed. Someone who has lived a full life in the practice of the Goddess, and understood the importance of what they are giving.

     All that is old must make way for the new. The old crops die so that the young may spring up anew. The old sacrifices their place so the young have a blessed future. He knows this, as do we all.

     He approaches the fire limping, taking the last few steps unaided. The chanting from the priest and acolytes rises as the old man nears.

     The young man next to me wraps his arms around me tightly. It becomes a full embrace of new life and death and all that can happen in between.

     The old man opens his arms as though to embrace the warmth and falls into the fire. As his body makes contact the chanting stops. The only sound filling the air is the cracking of the enormous bonfire.

     After the priests finish saying the closing prayers we break into groups to eat. Many of us have not eaten since the morning meal. All of the villagers have been hard at work all day on this ceremony.

     The yearly harvest ceremony is our most important. We all know the importance of giving proper thanks to our Mother Earth Goddess. If we do not we will all suffer the Long Sleep far before it is our turn.