NMR ISSUE 32

Astrological Forecast 32
Boredom's Natural Cure
Calling the Winds of Change
Editorial 32
Electromagnetic Energy and Crop Circles
Esoteric Symbology of the Tarot
Letters 32
Midsummer Hunt
Pilgrimage to the Parthenon
Swan, Wallaby, Bull
The Magical Flute
The Old Devil
Vernal Equinox - A Druid Tradition
Worlds Collide!

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Vernal Equinox—A Druidic Tradition

By Trish Reynolds

Sunday, 20 March 1994, was an unusually bright, dry day. Brilliant sunshine poured along the cobblestones beneath the massive walls of the Tower of London. It was in the fifties, warm for England at this time of year. The perpetual tolling of a hand bell wielded by the London town Crier hawking his news about the Tower Pageant and excited whispers, giggles and murmuring in the small crowd waiting expectantly, filled the air with a cheerful din. Above the noise another sound came faintly to my ears, borne upon the first breezes of the Spring. Beginning softly, then growing stronger, a rhythmic chant flowed through and around the people gathered, as a procession of white robed figures approached. At 8:29pm precisely, Greenwich Mean Time, the Sun would enter Aries at the moment of Equinox; the Druids were coming to the Tower to herald the new season. The procession was signaled across the road by the obeisance to the four quarters blown on an ancient and very large horn. The London Police held back traffic as the Druids came on, some with their eyes closed, lead by the Arch Druid, David Loxley. With little confusion and much grace, the forty strong formed the Circle and began a Ritual that has roots going back further than the Tower itself.

A young Druidess carried her infant throughout the ceremony. One teenage girl giggled to her friend, Oh look; they're going to sacrifice a baby. I smiled and rolled my eyes heavenward, remembering similar incidents at some of my own public Circles back home in New Jersey; here, though, no one seemed to take any notice. A journalist standing beside me taking press photos, told me that the Druids have always welcomed the Spring at this spot; just that, always. It was presumed that they always would.

The formal Ritual lasted about an hour by my watch, though it seemed a much shorter time to me. Although I was not officially in the Circle, a folding chair placed right at the edge had been thoughtfully provided, making me feel very welcome. I too closed my eyes, and envisioned the white light spiraling down, sheltering me protectively. Although I am not a Druid, I felt a warm kinship with the priesthood of the Olde Religion spread through me, the kind of serenity that connects one to all that is.

Seeds were scattered among the cobbles, symbolically sown where nothing could grow. A drinking horn filled with the last of the Winter's cider was passed from hand to hand; some spilled upon the Earth as an offering. The Sword was unsheathed and the horn sounded again, ending the Rite.

Mr. Loxley delivered a sermon (for want of a better term), reminding those gathered that although we know the leaves will bloom on the trees, and the land will flower again after the long Winter, there was a time when it required faith to believe that it would happen. We need that same kind of faith now, the faith to believe in goodness and spirituality without over-emphasizing materialism for its own sake. Without this vision, which is non-evidential vision, nothing will have leaves on, he told us. In that moment, I could not doubt it.

Too soon the day ended. The sun was setting behind me, and I had a train to catch. Although I was unable to remain in London and celebrate the actual moment of Vernal Awakening with the Druids, back in Devon, where I was staying, I felt the magical link strongly at 8:29 p.m. precisely, Greenwich Mean Time. At that minute, (it would have been 3:29 p.m. Eastern Standard Time in the U.S.) I felt joined to the whole world and beyond.

1994 Trish Reynolds