Friday, May 4, 2012

Meditation: Visiting the Red God, Qayin, at Beltaine

Our tradition uses guided meditation to help impress certain symbols on our members' consciousness. Below is our Beltaine meditation. It takes place at the Eastern Gate of the compass, the place of fire and sunrise.  It is the home of the Witch Father, whom we know as Tubal Qayin, Lucifer, Azazel, Melek Taus. To use this meditation let yourself relax comfortably and picture yourself drifting downward and inward to the third realm, the lower realm. The third realm is a place of darkness and mystery.  Let yourself sink down into the third realm and rest there peacefully.

Meditation: Visiting the Red God, Qayin

You awake in a broad, newly plowed field just before sunrise. The world to the West is still dark, murky and sleepy-looking, while to your East a fiery sun is beginning to rise on the pale lanscape. The chill of an early spring morning clings to you. The soil beneath you is rich and dark, marked in deep furrows from the plow. The fertile, damp smell of the land fills your nose as you breathe deeply and begin walking toward the East, toward the growing light.

A fence with a gate is ahead of you across the field, and you can hear the lowing of cattle now. As you get closer, you can see the shapes of the cows becoming clearer. You open the gate and cross into the grassy pasture where the cows graze and move lazily. They watch you intermittently as you continue across their field. One of the cattle watches you intensely, but it is no cow. This bull shifts his weight impatiently while keeping his gaze fixed on you. You continue your path across the field, hurrying as the sun continues to rise, and light and heat start perking up the countryside.

A hedge of dense, knotted Hawthorn trees spreads along the next fence, and you spot the gate in its midst. You cross through the old farm gate as you take notice of the trees. Their bright white blooms and long thorns both welcome and warn.

In the glinting light of the sunrise, you see bees bobbing and buzzing along the Hawthorns. You watch them dance as they work. One lands lightly on your hand, and you know that it has no intention of stinging you. Raising your hand to eye level, you look at the tiny creature for a moment. Its feet tickle your hand, making your skin twitch, and it flies away to the East, where you lose sight of it in the now bright sunrise.

Looking along the landscape in the direction that the bee flew, you see a mound of earth. As you focus your attention on it, you’re certain you hear a clinking sound, as well. Curious, you continue your eastward path until you find yourself standing in front of a small hill with a stony cave door. Strange markings have been carved and painted onto the stones around the mouth of the cave and you take a moment to look at them.

You’re certain now that the sounds you heard came from within the cave, and you can see the glow of firelight coming from deep within. The wet, mustiness of the cave’s scent is mixed with the smell of burning coals, here.

The cave path is smooth and descends slightly as it curves naturally to the left. The sounds have grown distinctly louder since you first heard them. No longer a vague clinking, you now hear the rhythmic beating of metal against metal – tap, tap, bang; tap, tap, bang. The cave is both hot and bright here, and as you round the last corner, you see a large chamber filled with both the glinting metal of finished projects and the carbon-blackened metal of work waiting to be done. Plowshares and picthforks lean against one wall, accompanied by spears and swords. In a far corner, you see the glint of gold and silver wrought into fine filigrees and tooled with delicate markings. You also see pieces of unshaped, untouched metal, dull but full of potential

A fire in a ringed enclosure dominates the middle of the room, and a large man is silhouetted by its flame. His skin looks burnished from the heat and soot, and you watch as his powerful form easily handles the bellows, the large hammer upon the massive anvil.

His eyes glint as he sees you, and he holds you in a piercing stare, though he doesn’t stop his movement and work. Tap, tap, bang; tap, tap, bang. You notice the metal in his hands and you recognize what he is making. He places the object back into the forge fire, allowing it to regain a red-hot glow before removing it again.  Tap, tap, bang.

Still working, he speaks to you. “The forge of the Witch Father holds much magic and mystery. This is a place of transformation, of alchemy, of great power.”

He beckons you toward him and places your hand upon the anvil. It is very hot, but it doesn’t burn you. Holding your hand upon the anvil with his own, he looks into your eyes and speaks a message only for you.

You thank him, and after a moment more of looking at you, he resumes his work. Knowing that the time has come to leave, you turn and walk back up the cave path, curving on a right-hand path now toward the fresh air and daylight.

You pass again by the bees, busy in the Hawthorns, and by the cattle in their pasture. Returning to the plowed field, you take a moment before sitting down in the rich soil. You close your eyes and breathe deeply, coming back to yourself.

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