A technological-paradigm spring equinox:

Our path around the sun is such that twice each year,as we go around, the sun shines equally on the northern and southern hemispheres, which mark the half way points between the times when the sun impinges directly along the earth's ecliptic plane.

The first of these is the spring (or vernal, which means spring) equinox (which means 'equal night', or the same length of daylight hours as nighttime hours).

As the new year was the time for plowing and making ready, this is the time of the maiden, of planting in the ready soil, of the sowing of the seed of what shall grow and be harvested.

Our spring equinox ritual will reflect our knowledge of the earth's path and springtime: hangin out (hopefully outside) with the earth maiden (feeling the chill fingers of the winter wind from time to time), drinking 'lite beer' in rememberance of the thin ale that was all our ancestors had left over from winter's brewing as we remember the pinch of ancient hunger, where our ancestors would have been much more happy shoving the tiniest seeds in their mouths to fill their gnawing belly rather than planting them in the ground to feed themselves much later, and the planting of some seeds to recognise the working of the universal clockwork, and the planting and sowing.

We are thankful that the wheel has turned (by itself, we need not turn it, for we understand that it turns relentlessly) and the earth is coming back from dormancy (not death, for we know what evergreen plants are, and know of the southern hemisphere where the climate is opposite).

We recognise that in the depths of winter, our subsistence-level ancestors living in a bramble thatched pole house, with dirt floor and no real education except hard farm work, would need some story to get them through til spring, and we honor them for their creativity.

No gods and demons, no friends and foes, just knowing the seasons, and how the earth goes,
how it moves in its path, around the sun which does shine, and the moon in its orbit, around me and thine,
for our world is a-moving, and in a pattern known well, from the beginning of time, until the sun is our hell.

Again i must thank my teachers (and their's that were afore them!) from the pit of my stomach to the soles of my feet, and the bottom of my heart to the top of my head..

Esoterica
Maiden '07