A candle flickers in the dark, casting quivering shadows about. Shining through carefully arranged glass holders- casting splashes of color across the windowsill. Reflecting off the glass of a golden frame which enshrines the beautiful image of a goddess. Delicate wisps of incense roll around the frame like a mysterious gateway. A glow hides in ash and faint shadows dance behind the smoke. A tall-stemmed glass cups a foggy, sweet-smelling liquid, as a reflection in its depths give the impression of a hanging moon. Seemingly suspended in time. The mingling of mysteries, smells, and sights gives an eyrie feeling of presence. An energy and emotion permeates the air. Symbols loom from the portrait like a becon from another realm. “Sit with us”, they seem to say.
It’s hard not to romantisize it. Hard to comprehend living beyond its beauty! To embrace the moment seems so perfect; and yet all urges to share it seem to end in disappointment. For the full beauty is almost never revealed second-hand. To make offerings at an altar seems so comforting. It builds a feeling of peace despite troubles. It seems sad the profoundity is lost on so many people. That such things may be labled pointless, or ‘evil’, or a mere psychological self-serving. As if its psychology is a trivial thing whos meaning can be brushed off as ‘uncultured’. Why is that? Why are basic human needs and tendancies something to be looked down upon? One can ‘know’ why, but that still doesn’t make it less mindboggling.
But what inspires such feelings of fascination, joy, and mystery- Nature aside; as a lovely altar decorated with symbols, and smells, and the unpredictable motion of shadows? What stirs something so primal and deep as the face of a goddess gazing out from an image or statue; seemingly animated by candlelight? It seems so unfair that one should be looked down upon for taking pleasure in it. Called rediculous, or scoffed at, or even laughed at. Or perhaps at best called eccentric. Why should such a beautiful thing be made harsh and such a beautiful moment be saddened by such sneering? I suppose in private, where one is safe and buffered from the world, it isn’t. But oh should we ever dain to speak of it in public!
But still, I will go to my windowsill in the starry night. I will still set out the glass artifacts of my careful choosing, and the clay labyrinth made and painted for Her. I will light a candle and incense for Her. I will sprinkle salt from a ‘dish’ into cool water and add a few drops of scented warming oils. And I will sit and admire Her in the dark, and marvel at the scents of jasmine and sweet pea. I will whisper admirations to Her and announce these things offered in Her honor. Because I enjoy it. Because I adore Her. Because it gives a sense of calm and fulfillment that merely thinking on a vauge form does not. It is tangible. It is engaging. And it’s just plain fun!
Let the nay sayers have their bile! I’ll keep the ineffible taste of Her wonders for myself!
Brindleroot Briar 