You're ready to start the rite. All of the ritual tools are in place. You've hiked into a federal wildlife reserve beneath a full moon. Samhain is before you. Everything is perfect. As you reach the top of the small peak, the entire expanse of forest and wetlands stretches before you, gently bathed in the light of the moon that filters through the thin blanket of rain clouds overhead.
There's only one problem.
The toddlers want to play.
Ah, the joy of celebrating the sabbats with children. The above scenario actually happened. Call it "Toddler Samhain 2003." I had hiked into Baskett Slough National Wildlife Reserve with my two children ("Sparrow" is now four; "Bear" just turned three) and a close friend of mine. Within moments, I realized that my carefully planned ritual had gone to the dogs. There was no way that the kids were going to be patient while I invited each of the elements in turn to join our rite. If I couldn't adapt, the ritual wasn't going to happen. To make matters worse, it was starting to rain and the children were getting cold and starting to ask when we were going to "eat the bread and drink some juice."
When we find ourselves meeting obstructions in our path, there are two different ways to approach the problem. The first, is to try to push through it. Yes, I could have gone ahead as planned - it may have even worked. However, I chose to take the second approach - seeking to follow the "flow" of the situation.
My biggest challenge was the children. Being restless, they not only needed to not distract from the rite, but they needed to have something to focus their attention. So the four of us held hands and, instead of Calling the Quarters as we were accustomed to, we chanted.
Calling Air, we chanted the word over and over in unison, starting low and building until we were shouting, "Air! Air! Air!" into the night, only to lower our voices until the chant became a whisper. Stopping only for a quick, "By the power of Air, we call this circle cast," we continued on to Fire, starting low, building to a shout, and then descending to a whisper once more. Around we went, the children participating, the energy beginning to flow. We watched as the clouds moved away from the moon, forming a tunnel of light that bathed our Circle. The rain stopped. The night grew warmer.
We said goodbye to those that had passed away in the dying year, Sparrow naming each of her goldfish that had died at their mom's house in turn. The husbands of two friends were remembered, reminding us of how dear our loved ones are to us. We each chose to leave something behind in the waters of our small cauldron, the challenge or obstacle left behind in the dying year. Then we reached into the waters filled with the struggles and defeats of the prior year and pulled out a success or desire we would find fulfilled in the coming year. My friend sought direction. After a rough year, I was ready to find some true happiness.
It turned out to be an amazing rite. All four of us came away with something special. And on the way back to the car, we stopped, watching motionlessly as a large doe (symbolic of the Goddess in my personal work) slowly crossed the path in front of us, only a few feet away.