26/04/22 17:00 Filed in:
seed storiesA Sprinkling for the May Queen
Seed story #1
O that long ago May, sweet scented almond blossoms, and the crowning of the accidental May Queen. It was the waning side of the nineties, and I was up to my armpits in alligators while I tried to herd cats. Excitement sizzled, carrying me on her fast currents and tempting me with delicacies and trips to forbidden pools. In a nutshell life held enough to keep me busy.
Even when a High Priestess and High Priest answered the call and performed a Sabbat, the Community volunteers took care of the general details. Phone tree, carpooling, venue scouting, permits, licensing, security, purchasing, delivery, setup and tear-down; we wore many hats. All you needed to participate was an invitation from a current participant vouching for your entry. A formality adopted to protect the identities of the members.
Nearing the end of the second year in anthropology, with my sights set on excavations, work study, and excursions, my role as student society treasurer, mother to my young son, and wife consumed every second of every day. Like the stones of Machu Picchu, nothing could squeeze in without pushing something else out.
The spring took forever to finally arrive. I looked forward to the Beltane fire and seeing old friends. Most May Day celebrations I pitched my tent in the mud and set up an altar and got down to the serious business of getting into a psychedelic trance with chanting, tea, and mead; we were the old folks. The younger edgier ones indulged in drugs, sex magic, and bondage. I kept a healthy distance, my attention pulled to the crafting of talismans, the painting of bodies, and chanting to the Goddess. This year with all the distractions, I hadn’t planned on staying overnight so I didn’t have my tent or camping gear.
The fires lit, we gathered to choose the May Queen and the Stag King. Games of strength and wisdom, dares to jump the fire or approach a maid, weighed the contestant’s suitability to wear the crown.
A dear friend pined for the title of May Queen. She selflessly pitched in wherever someone need a helping hand. And at the last task, the three of us stood as a triangle. The games tied 3-ways between us. The questioning began another round. Each question asked and answered, each in our turn, we were equally matched. The crowd started to fidget and move toward the edges some slipping away to find food, libations, or the warmth of a fire.
Bored of the ongoing stalemate, a young girl dressed as a fairy and clearly freezing her exposed bits off, offered a large rubber ball and the suggestion that we play a game throwing the ball and each would catch it and immediately throw it to another of the candidates for May Queen. A game of hot potato to decide our fate. The ball flew high and the rival dove low and caught it, throwing it wide and away. I caught it and almost fumbled it to my friend. Together we wore her to exhaustion. All three of us were covered in the mud and sticks and leaves stuck into our hair.
It now rested between us two. Then it was only for me to flub my catch and my friend would wear the crown. My heart on fire I half seriously played the game, hamming my way through the friendly confrontation, never wanting the title, only wanting to see my friend get her wish and be crowned. Sliding on the wet chewed up grass she lost hold of the ball and as I lunged to get it and volley it back, she fell slipping in the opposite direction. A spectator picked up the fallen ball. The mud ended her bid. I recognized the High Priestess. In shock, I stood still as a statue as the maidens dressed me in garlands and placed a crown on my head and paraded me to all the fires. My clear intent to help my friend secure the title backfired.
I kept thinking, no, no, no, what have I done? I don’t want to be May Queen. How will this fit into my busy life? The revelers plied me with intoxicating beverages, and I smoked with everyone. There are a few details I must leave to your imagination.
I reigned for a year, attending the Sabbats, and collecting ashes for the next fire. It brought opportunities to model for a book, be a magazine publisher for a minute, and it gave me the courage to leave Canada and explore the archaeology of the ancestors, rededicating the ancient sites to the Ancient Ones.
In the traditions of the May Queen, also known as the Bride of the May, and as April showers bring May flowers, the rain is considered good luck. The rain on Beltane blesses the crops, promotes fertility, and traditionally blesses the Handfasting Bride on her wedding day.