The Ancestral Campfire

[selfactivated]

Fire has historically been the place were my grandfathers have spent many nights gazing into the flames and discussing their world.

Pull up a piece of mother earth and your favorite drink. Enjoy the magic of the flame and tell us a story.

[selfactivated]

Fire is so comforting, watching the flames leap up to the sky. Its soothing to listen to the crackle of the embers. It always sends me back into lives lived so long ago. I remember a mesa, carved into the walls were beautiful homes that kept us cool from the scorching sun and warm in the cold desert nights. The fire lit our way and cooked our food. Our story tellers gathered us around to tell us tales of the bear and the wolf and crafty coyote. They taught us many things in stories. Kopapelli the trickster was always one of my favorites. He taught us to laugh at ourselves. He and coyote. The wind would sing as we listened and laughed. I miss those times. When the tribe would sit by the fire and tell tales of truth and meaning. No tale was ever to personal or insignificant to tell. We were tribesmen and all was shared and talked over at the fire. The talking stick and the peace pipes were passed at the flames. Chiefs and braves women and children were welcomed. Many stood up to the wee hours as the babes fell asleep at their mothers feet. Life was simpler then. Tribe equaled family and family listened.

[triedit]

A story is told of a young woman, not yet even 20, with two small children to care for. Her husband was out hunting for meat to cure for the winter. The woman tended the garden and tidied the house, baked bread and changed the baby. It ws a normal day.

Suddenly there was the smell of smoke. Thier little cabin was aflame, and she and the children were inside. As the flames grew, a man scantily clad burst through the door. She scooped up the children and told the woman to follow. More scared of the fire than the stranger, she did.

The strange man took her to another woman with small children, in a camp of others like them. They were fed and comforted. The man returned to the woods and found the husband, bringing him back to the camp.

The next day, the strange man and others from his camp went with the husband back to the clearing where the house had stood. They worked for many hours rebuilding.

Over time, this deep friendship grew between the families and when others came to the area to settle they were advised of the kindnesses. All were immediate friends.

Now, about 200 years later, that little cabin in the woods and that campsite for the strangers has grown into a small town--filled with people of all sorts. Many of the people are related to each other and to the original husband and the strange man. Often, someone goes abroad and brings back a wife or a husband and the town perpetuates--born of kindness and friendship between strangers.

[Nina]

I've always had a liking for the correspondencies. Helping form a rite, come up with a spell. The Corn moon was dedicated to this element and prior to it I was wondering in what way I should honor it. Strange.. I've heard pagans speaking of mother nature or mother earth but even way before I become a pagan I thought the moon is my mother. The mother of my soul.
Then the time of the eclipse I looked up, the fullmoon so powerful gave me the answers I seeked, this one among them.
I was to honor fire through its correspondencies.

Closing my eyes the moon's presence still curved inside, I lit a candle facing south chanting to Nemesis, goddess of retribution and one of the corresponding gods of this moon:
I come forward into thy circle, oh mighty spirits of fire, in perfect love and perfect trust, and declare myself.. e.g. restricted. (Not clean, no use lying to the powers that be, cause as I enter the circle, Fire checks if I m clear: checking instincts, feeling clarity and contact to the element of fire. If it finds me clear on this triple role I may proceed. If not.. I have a debt 2fire, so pay it or program exactly when I will).
Fire light up my choices, advice my inner voices, take care, wise elemental, of my life sentimental.

And Hecate, queen of the night and also honored goddess of this moon, replaced my worry and fear for the future with hope and faith.
After this rite I trust everything will be alright.

[triedit]

Thanks doesn't quite cut it. We need a "So mote it be" button *grin*

[primitive man]

these stories of the past are relived in some way with you. why make it all so, impersonal? wishing for a past like our ancestors, when they are always there with us.

i hunt, i honor the kill, i don't kill out of malice when it comes to food.

a fire is built in my backyard, sometimes on full moon nights in the summer, sometimes on a snowy night in january. i offer food to those who have gone before, to the spirits, my kids are there with me, sitting nearby or falling asleep at my feet.

i walk through my garden and remember what i was taught on how to plant, and when, and saving seeds. protecting it. a future in the seed. in getting my hands dirty. and passing it on.

the first fire in my woodstove. the smell of sweet smoke. september, always.
the first blood on the ground from deer in october.
the first snow.
the first thunder in early spring.
the first seed into the ground.
the first ripe plant.


it's all a living memory. someone before you.