Beltane was the first high holiday I let my husband in. He was very wary when I asked him to join me in a ritual. A childhood of organized religion taught him ritual was something to sit quietly through and pray for it to end. I think he expected chanting, long dresses, and maybe a cup of goat blood or two.
I preform a ritual of light for May Day. In the years before I had created paper pyres of my worries, set them aflame, and let them drift out to sea. I wanted release from the darkness around my heart and open up to possibility again. Our first Beltane was three weeks before he was due to move in with me. This was a huge step for me, only ever sharing my space with a cat before. I wanted to create a moment that would solidify this choice. There were candles, drums, and things you don’t do in church.
I renewed this ritual each year, the only anniversary we celebrated in our own private way. On the fourth cycle, my husband made the arrangements. In a garden surrounded by tiny lights that looked like a fey burrow, he made a proposition. We were married a year later exactly. Fires burned that day on the beach, in the woods, and in our suite. Beltane is a renewal of our passion, our union, and our commitment.
(number 74 on the pagan blog project week 4)