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Two trees with intertwined roots

The problem with metaphor in ritual is that it won't work for everyone. During grounding meditations involving visualizing roots reaching deep into the center of the earth, someone (me) might be distracted by imagining roots meeting red-hot magma. During rituals using a fall harvest theme, someone (me) might be distracted thinking about how nature is planting, not harvesting.

I've disguised more than one poorly thought-out concept with metaphor, so I understand the urge. They are also tempting to deploy as a substitute for true understanding of the ritual theme, or when deeper knowledge is hard to convey in the ritual context. Metaphors are best used cautiously and only when really necessary.

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mythumbnailI am an over-thinker. Before all things, I plan, I worry, I prepare, and I plan some more. The day before a big trip, I am unstoppable, chaotically creating order. My partner knows to just stay out of my way; he can't help me, so he might as well let me burn through my anxiety productively.

When I'm preparing to run a ritual, I do tend to over-prepare myself and the participants. I've mentioned before that I have felt that exhaustive explanations of what to do during the ritual can hurt the flow of the energy. I'm also starting to think that my tendency to be exceedingly exact in my planning can interfere with the mystery of ritual.

Group ritual is, in part, theatre, so it does have to be written with a mind to how it will perform. You have to think about where people will stand and walk, what you want them to see and hear, and how you are going to transition the group smoothly from one activity to another. However, group ritual is sacred theatre, so some room has to be left for the magic of what can't be planned. A good ritual gets a group united and in the right state of mind, sets a theme and opens a space to explore it at a deeper level, beyond logic. The process by which that space is created can be analyzed and rehearsed, but then rational thinking has to take a back seat to intuition. It is a challenging balancing act, and one I'm still working on.

Returning to pre-ritual explanations, I have found that too much detail about how everything is supposed to happen works counter to that magic frame of mind. When you've filled everyone's head with cues and stage directions, they stay in their analytical minds and may spend the whole ritual thinking about what they are supposed to do and how they are supposed to it, not about why they are doing it.

Explaining too much is my natural inclination, but when I fight that impulse, I sometimes go too far the other way and don't explain enough. In a recent ritual, I had to awkwardly cue each person's line because they had no idea that it was their turn to speak. At one point, I even cued the wrong person, resulting in a combination that made no sense and necessitating taking a mulligan on that section of the ritual. We smoothed it over and still got to a good place, energy-wise, but that is to the credit of Silver Spiral and years of working together. Without enough explanation, especially of an unconventional ritual, your participants may be edgy, trying to guess what is going to be expected of them next.

After the ritual, Robert suggested numbering the cue cards to make the readings go more smoothly, and Richard pointed out that I hadn't given people a lot of time to read over their parts before starting the ritual, so those are great places to start. Then, it is just a matter of analyzing the ritual explanation process until it is no longer analytical in its results...

Large mushroom growing in gravel

There seem to be mushrooms popping up all around me right now. The photo above is of a mushroom growing in my front yard. There are several other patches of different mushrooms on my walk to work, my work is selling two different kinds of mushrooms next week, and my in-box contains an invitation to a wild mushroom meal. Finally, today, I came across the mushroom photography of Bryan Beard and decided that perhaps something's trying to tell me something. I've got my oyster mushroom growing kit set up again and I've been reading weird facts and stories about mushrooms all evening.

There are, of course, stories of mushroom rings associated with fairies, and in medieval Ireland, mushrooms were thought to be umbrellas for leprechauns. Ancient Egyptians thought that mushrooms grew by magic, due to their sudden appearances overnight. Egyptian pharaohs reserved mushrooms exclusively for the royal tables because of the fungi's association with immortality. Ancient Romans called mushrooms "food of the Gods", and other cultures thought that mushrooms had powers that could give people super-human strength, help them find lost objects, and lead their souls to the Gods.

Moving away from mythology and ancient history, I really enjoyed this blog post: What mushrooms have taught me about the meaning of life. I especially liked his thesis statement:

I would like to share three things that I have learned about the meaning of life from thinking about these extraordinary sex organs and the microbes that produce them. This mycological inquiry has revealed the following: (i) life on land would collapse without the activities of mushrooms; (ii) we owe our existence to mushrooms; and (iii) there is (probably) no God. The logic is spotless.

I'm not as atheistic as the author, but I am always intrigued by the ways things we don't see or appreciate are so necessary for life as we know it. Fungi.com points out that without the external digestion and recycling powers of fungi, turning dead plants into rich soil, the Earth would be buried in several feet of debris. Mycelium, the body of the fungus which lives in the soil or in wood, are the ultimate recyclers:

Due to it's ability to decompose organic matter, and recycle it back into the ecosystem to further enhance life around it, mycelium may very well prove to one of the most significant organisms that graces the planet earth. ... Some of the enzymes produced by mycelial colonies are powerful at breaking down long chains of hydrocarbons. The colony is so efficient at secreting these enzymes and breaking down the hydrocarbons that soil contaminated with them and other toxic oils can be restored in a matter of months. ... When these hydrocarbons have been broken down, the fungus produces lovely blooms of mushrooms and the surrounding environment is nourished, alive and thriving.

Fungi were among the first organisms to colonize land about a billion years ago, long before plants came about. Miracle Mushrooms adds:

Mushrooms are not plants. They are fungi. Fungi are as uniquely different from plants as plants are from animals. In fact, fungi and animals are now in the same super-kingdom, Opisthokonta . More than 600 million years ago we shared a common ancestry.

We're related to mushrooms... the idea gives me goosebumps.

Speaking of goosebumps, A World of Words blog offers, along with beautiful pictures, this intriguing thought:

... what if God is Mushroom? Now, of course we all know that since God is too big for just one country, just one religion, just one planet, this all-encompassing energy of boundless and unconditional love and truth is also too big for just one species. But I like the idea of these beautiful, primordial and little-understood forest creatures as manifestations or metaphors for something as large and omnipresent as divine inspiration.

Mushroom expert (mycologist) Paul Stamets may be a scientist, but there's something about fungi that inspires spiritual thought:

See, this is the thing about mushrooms: It's not luck. There's something else going on here. We've been guided. But this is what happens.

Domestic mushrooms - white button, cremini, portabello, cultivated oyster - are available all year around, but fall is when the wild mushrooms can be found in our damp forests. September is even National Mushroom month in the United States. Mabon could very well be a mushroom harvest celebration just based on the timing. Add in that Mabon is an equinox - a time between seasons, between light and dark times of the year - then fungi seem very appropriate. They are both above and below the ground; they are between plants and animals, being truly neither; and the fungi family includes yeasts, used in baking bread, which is more traditionally associated with Mabon and the harvest.

Stamets also says that western society is pervaded by "mycophobia": an irrational fear of fungi. He traces this fear back to England, where mushrooms are often associated with decay and decomposition. This feels like another opening for Pagans as we try to reclaim the dark, the breaking down, as part of the wheel of the year and the cycle of life. Fungi take what is corrupt and, through their mysterious underground processes, they turn it into fertility again. They break down the dead and make space for life.

Oh, and one last awesome mushroom fact: The world's largest living organism is believed to be an Armillaria ostoyae fungi living in Oregon, occupying 2,384 acres. It is estimated to be 2,400 years old, based on its current growth rate, but it could be as old as 8,650 years.

Edited to add: The Mabon ritual I created from these ideas is now available on the website: Mabon: Mushrooms.

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mythumbnailI was in an exercise class today - a pre-choreographed class known as Pound - and it struck me that a well-run exercise class is a lot like a well-run ritual.

I'm a big Pound fan, so I've been attending up to three times a week since it launched at my gym back in March. Though I am generally very uncoordinated, I'm now pretty familiar with the moves and the different routines. Today, I was in my preferred spot at the front left and to my right was a Pound instructor who was just attending the class. The person behind me was also a frequent participant, so no matter which way I turned, everyone I saw was in time with the music. The Pound workout uses lightly weighted drumsticks, so there's a rhythm aspect to it, so even if you can't see the others, you can hear if their hits and strikes are in time or not. Today, we were on. Everyone was at least a little experienced and the teacher was confident and energetic. There was a great energy in the room, like in a good Circle.

In both an exercise class and a ritual, the leader can do a lot to set the tone of the event, but they must also read their participants' moods and adapt accordingly. It's important to give enough explanation, especially if there are less experienced people present, but not too much or the flow will get bogged down.

After contemplating the energy generated in a great synchronized workout, especially one with drumming built into it, and seeing dance performances similar to this one and this one as part of a show we saw in Maui, I've started contemplating how to bring this into a ritual. I'm thinking rhythm sticks and very simple choreography. Something more than a drumming circle, but less than an exercise class. I think the physicality would be very interesting, especially if people can be connected by hitting their sticks against each other's. I'll post if I come up with something.

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Kitchen Witch Altar At the Gathering's hack space discussion group, someone asked the group about what they thought was the minimum requirement for a fulfilling ritual. One participant immediately spoke up with the word "flow". She feels that a ritual is working when the energy is flowing well. I completely agree with her, but I still feel challenged by how to consistently create that flow in a ritual.

A couple of hours after the discussion group, I found out that, due to some scheduling or communications issues, the skyclad (naked) ritual scheduled for that night had been cancelled. That saddened me, as the Gathering has always had at least one skyclad ritual, and it is many people's first chance to experience that. Someone offered me the time slot, if I wanted to pull something together. I decided to take the opportunity to try again with the Beltane: The Heart ritual that I had done for my regular working group a couple of weeks ago. I had been talking to members of my community earlier that day about that very ritual, and how I hadn't felt like it quite worked. It had looked good on paper, but it lacked flow. They gave me some great feedback, I did a quick re-write on my partner's tablet, and I ran the ritual again that night. This time, it worked.

The first time I ran this ritual, I had several things working in my favour: I had all my pretty altar decorations and ritual tools, I was running the ritual for a group that's familiar with my style and works well together, and I was well prepared. Yet, it felt rushed and the energy didn't flow.

Normally, I prepare my larger group rituals far in advance, and I have lists and tools and decorations and typed scripts and I sometimes even hold rehearsals. This time, I had two members of my group who had done the ritual before, a script on a tablet, some hastily written cue cards, a couple of strings of Christmas lights as lighting and decoration (no candles allowed in the camp's cabins), and ritual tools and food (sliced apples) and drink (water) scavenged from the camp's kitchen and laid out on a scarf on the floor for an altar. I knew that a lot of people had heard that the skyclad was cancelled, so I wasn't expecting many people to show up, but about two dozen came, many of whom I didn't really know and who had never circled together.

I think the biggest change I made was that, at the suggestion of my friends, we added a drummer to control the energy raising. A major issue with the first time we did this ritual was that the energy didn't have time to build properly. The rhythm never established and settled, and it felt rushed. The flow wasn't there, even in this group that knows each other really well and works together regularly. In the second version, the drummer kept the rhythm slower until it was clear that everyone was in beat together, and then the volume increased first as people began slapping the floor and/or their legs harder, then it began to speed up more naturally, feeling like a reflection of our increased heart rates from the exertion of hitting the floor over and over. After the ritual, my drummer and I were unsure of which one of us had been leading the speeding up of the rhythm, as it felt organic.

There were some changes I had to make because of the circumstances of the second ritual. For example, no candles and no incense (camp rules and allergies in the group) meant a simplified space cleansing, which I don't think had any effect either way on the group, maybe partially because we were a little more prepped for ritual, being in sacred space all weekend. But other changes made out of the circumstances improved the ritual further. First, the space we had for the second ritual was much larger than my living room and allowed for enough space for everyone to sit comfortably and both touch each others hands during the meditation and have room to drum and even move some during the power raising. Second, putting the altar right on the floor - because we didn't have a suitable table - meant that there were no visual blocks when everyone was sitting on the ground. In the first version, a full-sized altar in the centre of the circle blocked some people's views of each other, and I think that disrupted the energy flow as well.

Another victim of circumstance was my pre-ritual explanation. I get nervous talking in front of a group, and feeling a bit under-prepared meant that I did not explain to the second group exactly what I had in mind for how the power raising would go. I think this turned out to be a great thing for the ritual. When I ran the first version, I gave my group such a detailed description that I think it became part of the analytical, practical side of the brain. I think everyone was a bit self-conscious, trying to remember what was supposed to happen, and we were all thinking too much, trying to follow the instructions. In the second ritual, my much briefer explanation did not get into people's heads the same way. Instead, I just modeled the behaviour I had been imagining, and people followed along (or didn't) as they felt inclined. It let people go with their instincts, go with the energy of the group, and it felt much more natural... and it turned out much closer to what I had hoped for than the original, over-described attempt had been.

I can't say for sure what effect the fact that it was done skyclad had on the second ritual. It was an obvious difference between the two rituals, and there is a different feeling to a group when the members are maybe all feeling a little daring or a little vulnerable because they are all naked. Someone described the second ritual as "sensual", which definitely was not the case with the first ritual, and maybe the nudity, non-sexual though it was, had something to do with that. It may have been helped along by a small, but important, change in some of the words used. Before the second ritual, I changed every place where I had written "tears" to "sweat" (four changes altogether). There is a distinctly different feeling to "Lord of the wild and passionate heart, we call to You from our bodies. By flesh and breath and love and tears, we call to You..." versus "Lord of the wild and passionate heart, we call to You from our bodies. By flesh and breath and love and sweat, we call to You..." I think I will have to run some more rituals twice - once clothed and once skyclad - to see if any of the improved energy and flow can be attributed to the nudity. Those who circle with me regularly be warned: there may be skyclad ritual invitations forthcoming.

I won't say that the second ritual worked for everyone who was there, as whether or not a ritual works is subjective. However, I know it worked for at least some of us, and the energy in that circle was much more powerful than in the first one. I hope I can apply the lessons learned by contrasting the two experiences of this ritual to improve the flow at future rituals.

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It is raining again in Vancouver. Cherry blossoms are being washed down the streets, and the temperature is back to autumn. This is quite the change from the gorgeous sunshine and early summer weather that so recently blessed us; I think we all have a kind of spiritual whiplash from the back-and-forth.

Despite the cold and wet, this weekend's projects include writing the Beltane ritual for my spiritual family. This is one of the things I struggle with as a ritual writer who wants to connect my rituals to what is happening with the season: I have to write the ritual in advance, without really knowing what the season is going to be when it is performed. It is working out this time, though, as the ritual I have in mind is about the heart.

A couple of years ago, I was training at the gym with a very athletic friend of mine. He gave me a lot of fantastic advice, but I remember one conversation in particular. We were discussing why it is important to do frequent cardio and he said:

"You only get so many heart beats. If your heart beats slower, they will last longer."

There's a joke about that, of course. A well-meaning seeker asks a monk: "What exercise should I do to live longer?" The monk responds: "Your heart is only good for so many beats, and then it will wear out! Speeding up your heart won't make you live longer; that's like saying you can make your car last longer by driving it faster. Want to live longer? Take a nap!"

Though exercise does temporarily increase your heart rate, doing it regularly decreases your resting heart rate, resulting in a net savings in heart beats. Which goes to show that you shouldn't take health advice from jokes... or monks.

Anyway, my friend's comment stuck in my head, and I've been contemplating a heart-themed ritual ever since.

I am fascinated by the connection between heart beats and life. I like the seeming paradox: make your heart beat faster in order to make it beat slower. And there's a beautiful tension there: our beating hearts keep us alive while counting down to our deaths. So much of the language of a full life is about the heart - her heart felt like it was going to burst, his heart grew three sizes that day, she took that to heart, he took heart in that - while each beat is closer to our last. To me, that tension feels like the same tension we have with Beltane and Samhain - Sabbats that are directly opposite on the wheel of the year. One is a celebration of love and life that includes death and the other is a celebration of the dead and the ancestors that embraces life.

On this rainy day that feels like autumn, I am trying to write a Beltane ritual that honours the miracle of our hearts: the real, physical importance, and the metaphorical truths. To that end, here are some random heart facts that get mine racing with inspiration:

The natural length of a lifetime for birds, fish, mammals, and reptiles seems to be about 1 billion heartbeats. Modern humans seem to get about 3 billion. (1 Billion Heartbeats – The length of a lifetime)

A mouse's heart beats about 500 times a minute and an elephant's about 28 times. A mouse lives about 4 years and an elephant about 70. (Size Matters: The Hidden Mathematics of Life)

The heart is the first organ to form in utero. The embryonic heart looks the same across nearly all species, including frogs and fish and mice and elephants: a pulsating tube. In humans, that tube will eventually loop to form the four-chambered heart we are most familiar with. (What is a beating embryonic heart?)

The heart symbol evolved from the ivy leaf portrayed by prehistoric potters. “This botanic symbol found in ancient Greek and Roman art ... represented both physical and, above all, eternal love, withstanding death. ... During the Middle Ages and early modern times, when medicine had a scholastic character, this symbol was used even by anatomists to portray the heart.” (Heart Symbol & Heart Burial: A Cultural History of the Human Heart)

The ritual is still taking shape in my head, but I think there's a two-parter in the works – one ritual for Beltane and one for Samhain – both playing on the tension between life and death.

Edited to add: The Beltane ritual I created from these ideas is now available on the website: Beltane: The Heart.

mythumbnailIn the previous post (Spirit of Generosity and Generosity of Spirit), I discussed what both ritual leader and participant have to bring to a public ritual in order for it to be successful. Here, I’d like to get into the nitty-gritty of what it takes to write and lead a successful, unconventional public Pagan ritual. Some of this will apply to a standard Wiccan-style public ritual, and will certainly apply to non-Wiccan public rituals, but I am most interested in the presentation of experimental Pagan rituals.

Give advance notice.

Whenever possible, tell your participants a little bit about what to expect before you start. If there's an email or message board post about your event, include a note about what tradition or religion you are from, maybe with a link to a website with some basic information. If your ritual isn't from an established and recognized tradition, you may just want to note that you will be leading an unconventional ritual.

Face it: your potential participants are mostly Wiccans or Wiccan-influenced. Even those who don't identify as Wiccan will probably have a basic understanding of that ritual structure. By all means, conduct your ritual according to your own tradition - as un-Wiccan-like as it might be - but if you assume knowledge of Wicca when choosing what to explain and what not to explain, you will be able to pick your talking points with more accuracy.

If your ritual includes anything that could be controversial - political magic, nudity, mind altering substances, blood magic, sex magic - you absolutely must let people know before you start, and preferably before they arrive. You would think this would go without saying, but I have been in a circle where there was an undisclosed skyclad requirement, and one where participants were asked to make a voluntary blood sacrifice, and I know how upset some of the participants were in both cases. By the way, both rituals were led by elders of the community.

Even with advanced notification and FAQ links, there may be some things you'll want to explain to the group. If you can work the explanations into the ritual in a way that feels smooth and unforced, that is best, but sometimes it just can't be done. Rather than doing the "professor thing" of lecturing while walking back and forth or around and around during the ritual, just get everyone gathered up and give the most basic explanation possible of what's going to happen. I highly recommend writing this in advance and reading it off the paper if you have to; you want to be as concise as possible, explaining only what you absolutely have to as clearly as you can. Winging it will often lead to extraneous points obfuscating the important parts.

Show, don't tell.

The participants will be looking to you to model what is expected of them. Rather than explain that in your tradition, you call the element of spirit while all looking up, just do it. Make sure anyone else who is running the ritual with you knows what to do, or tell a few people in advance, but then just let it happen. A few people may bow their heads instead, in keeping with their own tradition, but most will follow your lead.

Do a walk and talk.

Have you ever noticed how TV shows deal with long exposition? When something absolutely has to be explained and cannot be shown, a show will often have the characters on the move, walking and talking down a hall or a street. Or the talking will be split between several characters, instead of a monologue. This helps the audience stay engaged. Similarly, in a ritual, instead of having your priest or priestess drone out all explanations and directions while standing in the centre or at the altar, split it up between several people and move it around. I like having each of the quarter callers take a piece of the explanation in turn, so the participants’ attention ends up flowing around the circle.

Commit to the performance.

You will quickly lose the attention of your participants if you mumble. If you are doing a very unconventional ritual, it is especially important that everyone be able to see and hear what's going on at every stage. Ideally, your participants have come to your ritual with open minds and generous spirits, but you will quickly use up their good will if they can't hear you.

I believe in practicing ahead of time. Even if you don't require memorization, everyone who is helping you put on the ritual should be familiar with what's going to happen and should know their cues. Make sure everyone reads or recites their lines out loud a few times before starting so they have a good flow to the words. For bigger and more elaborate rituals, do the ritual with a smaller group in advance - a dress rehearsal of sorts.

Make it work.

A public ritual is an act of generosity and compromise. Sometimes, something that works in your small group ritual setting will not work in a public or very large ritual. For example, in my circle, we all bring our own goblets for sharing drink, but asking 300 people to remember to bring their own goblets is impractical. Be prepared to modify how you do things to make the best ritual experience for everyone.

There are some common things to look out for when modifying or writing a ritual for a large group. We will talk about these more in a future post, but, as an example, look for long pauses where nothing happens for the majority of participants. Food and drink sharing is a place where this happens a lot; as the one goblet is being passed around, everyone else stands and waits. Consider using several goblets and/or adding a chant to break that up. Look at your ritual with the eye of a director putting on a play. You cannot provide a spiritual experience to a group if your performance basics aren't met, so I definitely recommend compromising on your religion's usual traditions in order to better serve the group.

Serve the ritual.

Some things cannot, and should not, be compromised. Even though they might be controversial or less than optimal for performing, if something is fundamental to the ritual, than do it. Just use this rule thoughtfully; plenty of things we do in rituals aren't fundamental and can be modified, they just usually aren't. As you write or edit every part of the ritual, ask yourself: "How will this perform? Will it be clearly heard, seen, and understood? Is there a spiritual or religious reason why this has to be done this way?"

In small groups, some things we always do because they are religiously important (for example, we may always call the Goddess before the God for religious reasons), and some things we always do because the routine - the ritual of it - helps get the group into the right mindset because of the repetition (for example, calling each quarter from the edge of the circle, facing outwards, may be just how things are done in your tradition). The latter things can be changed; your large diverse group does not have the repetition to call on, so it is more important to serve the needs of the group than to follow the exact requirements of your usual ritual structure. Sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between the two, though. Try asking yourself: "What belief does this action serve?" If you don't have an answer, you may be able to compromise on that part of the ritual.

There is an art to putting on public rituals, and it can take practice. I recommend attending as many public and semi-public rituals for as many different Pagan traditions as possible and see what works and what doesn't for you, and what does and doesn't for the other participants. Then, practice with smaller groups - your coven, grove, or other usual group with some guests - before going to big groups of strangers. But at some point, if you want to conduct public rituals, you will just have to take the plunge and do it.

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Stuff Picture

When I was still fairly new to running public rituals - back in the early days of the university Pagan students' association I founded - a more experienced priestess shared with me the three things she had found were essential to successful group rituals:

1. Give participants something to do.

2. Give participants something to take home.

3. ... Unfortunately, I don't remember what the third item was.

I don't disagree with her points, though I have learned that point #2 shouldn't be taken too literally. Giving the participant something to take home could mean a thought, a feeling, or some inspiration. If you get a physical object from every group ritual, you can quickly accumulate a large number of mementos. I have a Rubbermaid bin full of things like in the picture at the top. People who attended my early public rituals ended up with Fimo acorns, dream scrolls, semi-precious stones, ribbons braided for Beltane, and more. I'm sure every bit and piece is still deeply treasured to this day by every one of those people.

I have now run a fair number of group rituals, for both small groups that are well acquainted with each other and for large groups that include strangers. I'm still working on improving my ritual design, but here are the four rules I currently use when writing something new:

Create a clear theme.

A ritual should start with a strong intent and the whole ritual should support and reinforce that intent. I treat it a bit like writing an essay: I start with a thesis statement. The opening - the cleansing, quarter calls, deity invocations, and introductory speech - serves to introduce the topic. The closing - food and drink, deity devocations, and quarter dismissals - wrap the topic back up. In between, the centre - the power raising and any other activities - should all be in service to the theme, almost creating a story or argument in support of it. The centre portion should be complete in itself; like with an essay, the introduction and conclusion restate the thesis but do not add new facts.

Engage the senses.

First, address the basics and make sure everyone in the Circle will be able to hear and see every part of the ritual. Then, make sure what they are hearing and seeing is interesting and relevant. Add the sense of smell through incense (if allergies and the environment will allow), oils, plants, or dried herbs; the sense of taste through the food and drink; and the sense of touch through holding hands, doing a craft, or engaging in movement.

Build to something.

Just as a good story needs a climax, a good ritual needs an energy raising. Your theme tells you where the energy is going, but the ritual structure you choose should support building that energy gradually, through the peaks and valleys of the entire opening process, into a single peak, then help you ground that energy, like the denouement of a novel.

Give participants something to do.

Pagan rituals do seem to work best when everyone participates. Participation can be chanting, dancing, repeating lines, meditating, reading parts, or even just focusing all on the same thing. It seems to work best when people are engaged on both the mental and physical levels.

If I follow these rules, I find most people come away from the ritual with something, though it is rarely something that has to be stored.

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