When I woke up, far before I meant to, I felt compelled to ritual. It was my first full rite in what must have been more than a week. It was still quite dark. I lit a single tea light inside the lantern and established the hallows. As the realms joined and all was both calm and alive, I noticed something beautiful. The flame stood tall and unwavering in that lamp, the panes of glass surrounding it creating this beautiful corridor reflection, a trail of candlelight going on forever. Above, the shape of a star, cast through an opening in the lantern, shining on the wall above my art of Dea Artio and Nantosuelta. It was shakingly powerful. When it came to call for omens I called upon Her directly. Nehalennia, guardian of the seas, the light on the shore. I called for guidance and protection not just for our home, but for all those who felt such uncertainty in this challenging time.
Her voice was soft, but present all the same. Kenaz, Laguz, Eihwaz. They all sat, nestled atop one another. After a beat, Berkano.
There is a flame of wisdom on the water. Let the lighthouse be your strength.
[It’s interesting, these relationships we form with the Kindreds. So much of a family is said but there is so much left unsaid, feelings that are primal and innate. Dea Artio, Nantosuelta… They come to me as mothers. Nehalennia… I feel that it is most right to call her closer to a sister… A good friend. Her wisdom is no less powerful than that of motherhood, but it certainly has a flavor all it’s own. The runes bear the same words but the accent is different.]
The lighthouse is an impartial power. Not all boats on the ocean carry the same goods, nor fly the same flags. But when storms crash down or fog sets in thick all sailors seek sanctuary. They want to stand on the land and see their family one more time. I pray, my friends, turn not toward the lightning but toward the torch and see your feet safely home to sail again.