A Pagan Ritual Prayer Book (14 page)

Hekate:

• You whom even Zeus reveres,
  

  who standing at the crossroads,
  

   
  

  where magic dwells,
  

   
  

  watch all ways:
  

   
  

  be at the center of my life;
  

   
  

  may I see through your eyes.
  

   
  

Iris:

• The rainbow is a mystery of fire in water,
  

  sun through clouds;
  

   
  

  since ancient times the bridge between the everyday and the divine.
  

   
  

  Iris, be a true herald.
  

   
  

Isis:

• Come, Winged One, come.
  

  Come, High Throne, come.
  

   
  

  Come, Keening Wife, come.
  

   
  

  Come, Loving Queen, come.
  

   
  

  Come, Isis, come,
  

   
  

  Come Isis, come.
  

   
  

Kami:

• Kami of this place and this time,
  

  I respect you, so I have come to see and praise you,
  

   
  

  but not before I have purified myself,
  

   
  

  becoming fit to stand in your august presence.
  

   
  

Land Spirits:

• I see trees, I hear birds, I feel stones and dirt against my walking feet;
  

  insects crawl on me or buzz around me, trees stand solid, and smaller plants bend as I push through.
  

   
  

  The earth smells of rotting leaves, and of life.
  

   
  

  I see and hear and feel and smell so much in this forest.
  

   
  

  But with my greatest attention I will miss you, Spirits, unless you make yourself known.
  

   
  

  Come to me; if you don't want to be seen with my eyes, come in other forms,
  

   
  

  or even come in ways I will find hard to perceive.
  

   
  

  I promise to wait for you with careful attention.
  

   
  

  Only come.
  

   
  

• From the branches of the trees they are peering.
  

  From the faces of the stones they are looking.
  

   
  

  From the surface of the waters they are rising.
  

   
  

  They are coming here to drink this milk I have poured out for them.
  

   
  

• On the trail of corn meal the spirits come, dancing,
  

  their feet not smudging its golden road;
  

   
  

  along it they come to those who have made it.
  

   
  

• Come, Eagle, carrying in your feathers the Heavenly
  

  Ones, riding to us.
  

   
  

Manannán mac Lir:

• As I'm sitting on the sand between high tide and low tide,
  

  with the cold passing almost unhindered through my now wet clothes,
  

   
  

  part of me is saying, “What are you, nuts?”
  

   
  

  But there's the other part,
  

   
  

  the one that's reaching out eagerly,
  

   
  

  desperately even,
  

   
  

  wanting to see and know you,
  

   
  

  to join hands together as friends meeting after too long apart.
  

   
  

  That's the part that is taking the cold and wet and lighting a fire in my soul with it,
  

   
  

  warming my freezing body.
  

   
  

  You won't come to me unless I set out for you.
  

   
  

  And we will meet in the middle.
  

   
  

  That's why I'm sitting
  here
  , in the space between the land and the sea.
  

   
  

  That's the middle, isn't it?
  

   
  

  My prayer goes out on the ebbing tide.
  

   
  

  May you come to meet me on the return,
  

   
  

  riding on the crest of the waves,
  

   
  

  crashing into my heart's shores.
  

   
  

• May your horses, their manes foam-flecked,
  

  their hooves forever crashing onto shore,
  

   
  

  carry you constantly into my life,
  

   
  

  Manannán mac Lir, wave-rider.
  

   
  

• From tearing ocean into welcoming bay,
  

  Come homeward, Sailor, on silver keel.
  

   
  

  Cross beacon-guided the shattering shoal,
  

   
  

  and gently come, and joyful stay.
  

   
  

  From tearing ocean into welcoming bay,
  

   
  

  past guardian jetty guide your boat,
  

   
  

  and tie its rope to pillared pier,
  

   
  

  and gently come, and joyful stay.
  

   
  

  From tearing ocean into welcoming bay,
  

   
  

  set foot on land with blessing touch,
  

   
  

  and enter home, and sit at hearth.
  

   
  

  Come homeward, Sailor; come Son of Sea:
  

   
  

  O gently come, and joyful stay.
  

   
  

• As the mist on your ocean, Mac Lir,
  

  dissolves with the touch of the sun as it rises toward its height,
  

   
  

  so may all that separates me from the presence of the Gods melt away.
  

   
  

Nuit:

• You come in the silence, Nuit,
  

  when space is left open for your infinite emptiness.
  

   
  

  And so it is that speech, and deeds, and any searching won't find you.
  

   
  

  Only waiting.
  

   
  

  I sit here and wait with openness, with longing but no expectation.
  

   
  

  Though all else is empty, the longing remains.
  

   
  

  I hope you will not begrudge me that, and will still bring me to you.
  

   
  

Selene:

• With your outpouring light do not just bathe my outside, Selene;
  

  I offer you the hospitality of myself.
  

   
  

  May you find a well-appointed home there.
  

   
  

Soma:

• May he who, pressed out, is life, is power,
  

  May he whose roaring calls us to the ritual, to drink,
  

   
  

  May he, granting gifts, filling us with immortality,
  

   
  

  May he, King Soma, be praised in this prayer.
  

   
  

  May he, hearing me, come to join me in this rite.
  

   
  

  May my words draw him hither.
  

   
  

Tree Spirits:

• Your skin hard and rough against mine,
  

  I trace with my fingers the patterns of your bark's folds.
  

   
  

  Is it your words to me?
  

   
  

  Do you hear
  my
  words to you?
  

   
  

  At least know the meaning of this offering.
  

   
  

Unknown Deities:

• There are gods of all and gods of each.
  

  At this moment, when I don't know whom to turn to,
  

   
  

  gods or men,
  

   
  

  I know at least that there is one deity,
  

   
  

  or many,
  

   
  

  who will hear my prayer and see my need,
  

   
  

  and will answer me with blessings.
  

   
  

  Though I don't know who receives this prayer
  

   
  

  and this offering,
  

   
  

  I know you are mighty and worthy of worship.
  

   
  

  Accept my gifts and overlook my ignorance.
  

   
  

V
c:

• Each word, you.
  

  Each syllable, you.
  

   
  

  Each sound, you.
  

   
  

  Each thought of utterance,
  

   
  

  you, O V
  c.
  

   
  

  May all my spoken words
  

   
  

  and even all my unspoken
  

   
  

  be you, O V
  c.