On The Wolf/Cold Moon

No photos of my ritual tonight. Because there aren’t any.

I sang a song from my childhood all evening long, and I still hold it now. Sure, it is silly, but pertinent. “Age of not-believing,” from Bedknobs and broomsticks.

When you rush around in hopeless circles
Searching ev’rywhere for something true
You’re a t the age of not believing
When all the “make believe” is through

When you set aside your childhood heroes
And your dreams are lost up on a shelf
You’re a t the age of not believing
And worst of all you doubt yourself

You’re a castaway where no one hears you
On a barren isle in a lonely sea
Where did all the happy endings go?
Where can all the good times be?

You must face the age of not believing
Doubting ev’rything you ever knew
Until at last you start believing
There’s something wonderful…
Truly wonderful in you

Silly? Yep. True, the remaining words are…. Fluff. Sigh. But, look at the non-fluff – granted there’s nothing wonderful in me – just a disgruntled ill-tempered asshole old bear – not much to go on but still…

Yea. Go Disney n’ shit. But when you apply it to Pagan terms – those who stop singing, who stop humming, who stop dreaming new stories – it hits you. Hard.

When you meet a Pagan, Witch, Wiccan, Heathen, Asatru, or otherwise, and they do not have a story to tell – when you do… It hits you. I dedicated this moon to those who need the inspiration, as I do, as I build my last wooden tools to complete this earth sign. Every single one of us needs a good grounding story, Pagan or not – to listen to.

I sat, with no candles lit nor incense before my own altar- and I sang. Because, sometimes we don’t have either – and the mood hits us. I dedicate this Wolf moon to song – hum, sing, or chant – something… Even if you don’t hit the cords – hum.

Wolves are known for their song – and on this Wolf-Moon – I hum as I write this, granted to modern songs but it does count in more ways than one. Hum, sing! Something! It’ll hit you harder than you think! Open your window, look at the lunar light – and hum something.

It could be Pantera, Abney Park, Metallica, Evanescence, or Loreena McKennit – doesn’t matter. If it moves you – it counts.

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