dark moon rituals newsletter
nocturnal devotions: the ancient practice of vigil - September 2024
Under the full moon
I keep vigil,
eyes trained on the great stones in the East,
waiting,
watching,
for the Dawn -
for a new life to
break forth from the long
dark
sacred
night.
I stand, hands raised and feet moving
with the slow rhythm
of the earth’s heartbeat,
ears deep in listening,
eyes open to watch
for the nocturnal messengers
whose lithe bodies
dance the Mystery
before my watery eyes.
I pray,
dance,
weep & wail,
howl with the coyotes and wolves,
commune with the vast expanse of stars,
sing to the rustling branches of trees,
sit on the grave mounds,
interlace my fingers
with the bones of the Beloved Dead.
See me, wise and wild ancestors.
My ears are open,
my yearning true.
My nocturnal devotion is
a cry in the darkness,
a stake in the ground,
where my vulnerability is my power.
My tired eyes and aching limbs
are infused with the fire of my prayers
whispered fiercely into the dark winds.
I hold tender watch over the sick,
I mourn the dead,
I rage in protest,
I die and wait for my rebirth,
I claim my life.
I am here. I am here. I am here.
I stood vigil on the side of a mountain last week, awake all night under the full moon. I prayed, I sang, I shivered in the rain, I stomped my feet and danced, I listened, I saw ethereal visions, and I waited achingly for the dawn to rise over the caves in the East.
Ritualists and witches, lovers of the wild primal earth, re-memberers of the scarlet threads of ancestral wisdom - we often find ourselves doing strange things like this. Ritual is the soul-language we use: the channel between our flesh-and-bone bodies and the unseen world of spirit, between the modern-day here-and-now world and the ancient “trail on the ground” of our deep-time elders ancestors (Francis Weller), between the living and the Dead and everything in the middle. In my yearning to reclaim my deepest identity, as kin to the land and the elders and the unseen world, I have found ritual to be the Path. The Lifeline. The Candle in the Dark. When I am feeling unmoored, overwhelmed, terrified, in deep despair - as I have this summer - I am turning more and more to ritual as a guide, a vessel, a practice, a somatic relationship. Ritual holds my questions & longings. Ritual transmutes my tender feelings and weaves me ever-closer to my Beloved kin.
The path of ritual is why I found myself alone in the woods, crying beneath the stars and humming to keep myself awake through the deep hours of night. And the messages I received from this powerful ritual - the changes it wrought in me - are deeper than words and conscious knowing. They are still working their way through my body, snakes slithering through the chambers of my soul, resisting premature articulation. I’m sure I will share these new forms of flesh, new habits of heart, and new powers of mind, in the future.
But for now, I’d like to usher us all into a practice of Vigil for this month’s Dark Moon Ritual.
The ancient practice of vigil is fitting for the liminal, transitional month of September - one of my favorite months of the year. As summer dies into autumn and the air begins to chill, we are drawn inward, into rituals of introspection and solitude. The time is ripe for a vigil.
The practice of vigil is a nocturnal devotional practice, usually undertaken at night and marked by staying awake during a time when you would normally be sleeping (and while others are currently asleep). Vigils are multifaceted, powerful rituals that can be utilized for any number of intentions: to pray, to sit with and watch over someone who is very sick or dying, to listen to the spirits of the Dead, to remember the dead, to commune with the Land, to stage a protest, or to remain alert and watchful for the rebirth of Dawn.
My practice of vigil is especially inspired by my Nordic ancestral tradition called utiseta, or “sitting out”. The lore of utiseta speaks of a mythical practice undertaken by wise women, magickal & ritual practitioners, and witches. Alone in the night, they would seek out the grave mounds of their ancestors, which were embedded in the natural landscape. Sitting directly on these grave mounds throughout the long night, they would listen - to the voices of the ancestral Dead and to the spirits of the Land. It is a relational and devotional practice, both a harsh ordeal and gentle weaving of belonging. It is a way to shut out distractions and open the ears of our soul so we can hear the voices we often miss.
As a personal practice, we can undertake vigils to bodily enact transformation that we desire in our lives. We can hold vigils as a way to mark the death of an old version of ourselves, sitting up all night in breathless anticipation at the dawning of the New. Vigils are a liminal space, between death and rebirth, where so much wisdom and mystery can slip in. In the vulnerable, sometimes-delirious space of vigil, we can become porous enough to allow the mystery to break us open in the exact ways that we need to. We can hold vigils when we have questions or longings to share with the unseen world, and when we simply want to listen deeply for what the wise ancestors and the spirits of the Land might say to us. We can also hold vigils to stake our claim for being alive on this earth, and for holding fast to a vow or intention we have declared. The difficult act of staying awake in the night is a powerful way to embody our tenacity and devotion.
Beyond personal practice, vigils can also be deeply healing for communities as well. Candlelight vigils are held as forms of mourning, remembrance, and sometimes political protest after a death, and the symbolic act of holding candles together in the dark night can send a powerful message or be a healing balm. We also hold vigils in deathcare practice, taking turns sitting with our loved ones who are actively dying so they are not alone during the night. We hold home vigils after our Beloved ones have died to sit with them in the sweet sacred silence of the liminal. Vigils are tender portals of reverence and devotion during the sacred transition of death, a way to pour out our love for the one who is dying and to do our prayerful part to usher them into the arms of the ancestors.
Whether your vigil is for yourself or a dying Beloved, I invite you to join me in the practice this September. Whenever you are ready, sometime before the moon turns Dark again, gather yourself for a Vigil (instructions below). Become a creature of the night with me, with all of us who dance in the mystery.
Whom should I turn to,
if not the one whose darkness
is darker than night, the only one
who keeps vigil with no candle,
and is not afraid -
the deep one, whose being I trust,
for it breaks through the earth into trees,
and rises,
when I bow my head,
faint as a fragrance
from the soil.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Vigil Ritual
Clarify your vigil’s intention - are you standing as witness to your own process of death and rebirth? Are you longing to hear from your soul, your ancestors, the Earth? Are you staking a claim to your own life? Are you mourning a loss or protesting an injustice? Are you simply choosing to be present, alert, and watchful for what arises?
Choose a time during the night to hold your vigil. If it is not practical to stay awake all night (it won’t be for most of us), choose a time period of 1-5 hours after the sun has gone down and before it has risen to hold your vigil.
Determine a location to hold your vigil, preferably outdoors (as long as you have all of the equipment you need to stay safe). If you would like to watch for the dawn, face the East.
Create your Vigil Circle, within which you will stay during your vigil (inspired by the teachings of the School of Lost Borders, Steven Foster & Meredith Little).
Open your vigil with one or two simple actions: walk around the circle, sing a song, say a prayer, light a candle, cleanse with herbal smoke, write your intention or question on a piece of paper, start a fire that you will tend during the vigil, or any other action that speaks to you.
Call in any allies or beings you want to be with you (especially the Beloved Dead, ancestors & elders, spirits of the Land, specific plant allies, Deities or guides you work with).
Hold your vigil. Sing, pray, dance, stand, wail, scream, or simply sit in silence, with ears listening and eyes wide open. Trust what moves through you, what emerges, with the rising of the Dawn.
When your vigil is over, close your vigil circle with another simple action: blow out your candle, bury your intention, put out your fire, cleanse with smoke, sing a song, say a prayer, bow to the rising sun.
Express your gratitude to all the beings who supported you during your vigil, and allow the vigil ritual magick to move through you.
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you
Don’t go back to sleep!
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep!
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch,
The door is round and open
Don’t go back to sleep!
Rumi trans. Coleman Barks
in the mystery,
Summer