Our household is non-traditional in a lot of ways. But we are extremely traditional in some other ways. In our home, holidays are meant to be spent together, doing the things that are meaningful to us. So we spent Sunday together, a whole slew of our family. By the end of the evening there were eight of us present.

I can’t speak to the experiences of my family while I wasn’t around, but I can speak to my experience. Saturday the 2nd was technically Imbolg. But I had Mystery School, and everyone else had things to do. John and Elizabeth went to a ritual sponsored by Earth Spirituality Chicago held at the Occult bookstore. They said the guided meditation portion of it was amazing.

I had Mystery School all day. Eleven and a Half hours of Mystery School. Granted there was a communal dinner break in there, but that’s a lot of Mystery School. Have I mentioned that I’m a masochist? I love my mentors and fellow students, and I love experiencing and exploring the mysteries of our vocations together. There is little on this plane (perhaps kink) that I enjoy more. Then again, we have oft discussed the mysteries of our vocations in relation to, and inside the world of, kink. So maybe there isn’t anything I enjoy more.

I got home just before midnight on Saturday. The apartment was lit with candles that made the walls and floor glow. The hearth altar had new candles, beautiful pillars almost three feet high. Mark, in his generosity, bought them at Ikea earlier in the day, along with who knows how many other candles.

Mark, George, John, Shivian, and Elizabeth were all piled into pillows on the floor, waiting for their food to arrive and chatting. I was exhausted but felt renewed by the love that filled our home at that late hour. I, admittedly feeling a bit detached and unfocused, joined them and we communed for an unknown period of time. Then there was food, and I stole a piece of pizza, which was yummy.

John and I stayed up together in the living room talking philosophy as Lizzie slumbered and the rest of the boys watched “Into the Woods.” When we finally fell into bed around 4:30 I was pleasantly warmed and looking forward to the day ahead.

I got out of bed around 11 the next morning, feeling refreshed and aware. There was frost on the windows, and cool winter-light coming through the windows. We puttered around for a little. I cleaned and swept, and George made scones for breakfast.

This all seems rather dull, but if you’ve ever had the experience of sitting on the counter of the kitchen, laughing and and smiling, you understand why I mention it. Around two in the afternoon the cooking began. George wanted a feast. To the sound of Josh Groban, S.J. Tucker, Wicked, and Mika we danced and sang. John and I began to cut the beards of wheat off the stalks so we could make Brig’s crosses later that night. Lizzie had some adventures zesting fresh oranges with a cheese grater. George laughed maniacally as he poured half a bottle of cabernet sauvignon over the Seitan. We were awed when the corn/wheat/white-bread braided loaf came out of the oven, smelling rich and hearty.

We have a huge kitchen. It’s a dream. George complained that there wasn’t enough room. Again. We did a lot dishes throughout the day. All in all we managed to keep the kitchen relatively clean, even by the end of the night.

Josiah came home from Kelly’s, where he hadn’t slept well and napped for a couple hours. I was *this* close to waking him up with a snowball, but I didn’t want to get hexed. Mark and Shivian arrived around 6:00, and we began to prepare everything for the evening. We lit the living room/ritual room with candles, the Hearth altar glowed with a fire all its own.

We feasted, serving each other, pouring water for each other. We laughed and smiled more. Then we cleaned, moving seamlessly, and we sat and conversed until Frank arrived. Fresh from work, excited to be with us, to celebrate. We were eight now, and we cleared the room, moving into a circle as is habit.

We laughed at each other as we made our crosses of wheat, the moist stalks trying not to fold properly. We made offerings to the flames, and ground herbs together, sharing our intent for joy and happiness in the coming seasons. We made up chants, writing melodies and harmonies under the sounds of each others voices. The room grew warm, and the Goddess walked among us.

Brig came up through George, her words warm and sharp, like the fires of the spring and summer. But they wrapped around us, sharing her warmth and love, her blessings. She touched us with humor, with anticipation for the future, with the strength of our love and our community. When she left there was a moment of genuine sorrow that came through all of us. Then we let our love move around the room again.

We kissed and hugged. We shared our love and placed our gifts in their places. We separated and let ourselves move to our beds, sleeping. The sun was returning, and we slept in peace.