Post by Chief Tom-O-Hawk on Jul 19, 2016 2:05:54 GMT -5
The essence of Lughnasadh is the joy of life under the knowledge that darker times are moving in.
Lugh was known to the Celts as a god of craftsmanship and skill-- in fact, he was known as the Many-Skilled God, because he was good at so many different things. In one legend, Lugh arrives at Tara, and is denied entrance. He enumerates all the great things he can do, and each time the guard says, "Sorry, we've already got someone here who can do that." Finally Lugh asks, "Ah, but do you have anyone here who can do them ALL?"
Mighty Lugh, the many-skilled god,
he who is a patron of the arts,
a master of trades, and a silver-tongued bard.
Today I honor you, for I am skilled as well.
II honor you early, for on your day
I partake, in the ring, in my art,
By sending two to their own personal hell
I am a warrior.
I am one who lives with honor and pride,
in my deeds, words, and actions.
I am a warrior,
and I pay tribute to myself, my family, and my gods,
by living rightly.
Honor is found not in the sword and the first,
but in wisdom, and courage, and strength.
I will make the changes I need to make,
that I may live in an honorable way
and follow the code of the warrior.
I am a warrior,
and I have control over my mind, my thoughts, and my sword.
I pledge to hold truth in my heart,
to hold strength in my hands,
to be honest in my words,
and to stand on behalf of those who cannot speak for themselves.
This is the way of the warrior,
and I shall live with honor.
The prices paid. Oil, cornmeal, whiskey, to the spirits of the cardinal directions, the Earth mother, the Ogham circle, the spirits of nature and fey folk, to the Gods and Goddesses Morigan, Lugh, Brigit, Kernunos, Dagda.
“With Gods, Goddesses, Spirits alike, I demand of you to bless this final sacrifice. This final sacrifice for the final god. The new god. The one God of Wrestling. Bless me and mine own. My body. For my own body shall be the sacrifice to myself.”
Wayne Hammon reaches out to the altar. He takes the black handled dagger in ceremonial gesture and stands. Slowly he walks the perimeter of the circle. Presenting himself and the sacrificial blade to the east, to the south, to the west, to the north and returns to the center of his consecrated place.
He then takes the chalice, the cup of kinship passed from druid to druid in a long, time honoured tradition. Again, he goes to the four cardinal directions, presenting the chalice and again himself to the spirits and gods in attendance. Again, he returns to the center of the clearing, and with chalice in one hand, takes up the ceremonial dagger in the other.
“Mannanan Mac Lir! I call upon you to bridge the gap between the Summer Lands (heaven), the firmament (Earth), and the place of resurrections (Hell) and channel these three realms like a single ray of sunshine through me!”
With absolute calm, he places the chalice against himself, right under the breastbone, and drives the dagger straight into his own heart. The gush of blood splatters into the chalice as another bright red gush spews from his lips. His body drains of strength, rapidly losing power, barely able to stay upright.
He drops to a knee, hand still clenched to the dagger and still holding the chalice to his chest to catch the blood of his heart. His face pales and he goes down to both knees, but still he holds to the chalice and dagger.
He pulls the dagger from his chest, the final gout of blood filling the remaining emptiness within the chalice. With hands shaking from near death, he brings the chalice to his lips and drinks. He greedily drinks, taking in every drop of his heart’s blood and licking the chalice clean. He falls to the ground, dead and lifeless.
The Earth and Gods bathe the consecrated space in soft light. A beam of pure spirit energy manifests from everywhere and nowhere and focuses on the still, lifeless body of Wayne Hammon.
The bathing light pulses brightly, and the lifeless form contracts in place.
A second, stronger pulse of light obscuring the body completely, and when the light wanes, the body of Wayne Hammon is no more.
A third pulse, stronger than the other two, infused with the power of the air, the earth, fire, and water. Showing the faint traces of a human figure standing within the light.
A final pulse, empowered by the three realms and the gods infuse the body with the silvery light bright as burning magnesium.
The light fades away, the human form is Wayne Hammon. Perfectly formed, without scar, flawless features. His eyes open, the irises a brilliant shade of gray and the sadistic grin so well trademarked to Freezer Burn emerges.
“The Wrestling God is Reborn. Be .. very .. afraid.”
Lugh was known to the Celts as a god of craftsmanship and skill-- in fact, he was known as the Many-Skilled God, because he was good at so many different things. In one legend, Lugh arrives at Tara, and is denied entrance. He enumerates all the great things he can do, and each time the guard says, "Sorry, we've already got someone here who can do that." Finally Lugh asks, "Ah, but do you have anyone here who can do them ALL?"
Mighty Lugh, the many-skilled god,
he who is a patron of the arts,
a master of trades, and a silver-tongued bard.
Today I honor you, for I am skilled as well.
II honor you early, for on your day
I partake, in the ring, in my art,
By sending two to their own personal hell
I am a warrior.
I am one who lives with honor and pride,
in my deeds, words, and actions.
I am a warrior,
and I pay tribute to myself, my family, and my gods,
by living rightly.
Honor is found not in the sword and the first,
but in wisdom, and courage, and strength.
I will make the changes I need to make,
that I may live in an honorable way
and follow the code of the warrior.
I am a warrior,
and I have control over my mind, my thoughts, and my sword.
I pledge to hold truth in my heart,
to hold strength in my hands,
to be honest in my words,
and to stand on behalf of those who cannot speak for themselves.
This is the way of the warrior,
and I shall live with honor.
The prices paid. Oil, cornmeal, whiskey, to the spirits of the cardinal directions, the Earth mother, the Ogham circle, the spirits of nature and fey folk, to the Gods and Goddesses Morigan, Lugh, Brigit, Kernunos, Dagda.
“With Gods, Goddesses, Spirits alike, I demand of you to bless this final sacrifice. This final sacrifice for the final god. The new god. The one God of Wrestling. Bless me and mine own. My body. For my own body shall be the sacrifice to myself.”
Wayne Hammon reaches out to the altar. He takes the black handled dagger in ceremonial gesture and stands. Slowly he walks the perimeter of the circle. Presenting himself and the sacrificial blade to the east, to the south, to the west, to the north and returns to the center of his consecrated place.
He then takes the chalice, the cup of kinship passed from druid to druid in a long, time honoured tradition. Again, he goes to the four cardinal directions, presenting the chalice and again himself to the spirits and gods in attendance. Again, he returns to the center of the clearing, and with chalice in one hand, takes up the ceremonial dagger in the other.
“Mannanan Mac Lir! I call upon you to bridge the gap between the Summer Lands (heaven), the firmament (Earth), and the place of resurrections (Hell) and channel these three realms like a single ray of sunshine through me!”
With absolute calm, he places the chalice against himself, right under the breastbone, and drives the dagger straight into his own heart. The gush of blood splatters into the chalice as another bright red gush spews from his lips. His body drains of strength, rapidly losing power, barely able to stay upright.
He drops to a knee, hand still clenched to the dagger and still holding the chalice to his chest to catch the blood of his heart. His face pales and he goes down to both knees, but still he holds to the chalice and dagger.
He pulls the dagger from his chest, the final gout of blood filling the remaining emptiness within the chalice. With hands shaking from near death, he brings the chalice to his lips and drinks. He greedily drinks, taking in every drop of his heart’s blood and licking the chalice clean. He falls to the ground, dead and lifeless.
The Earth and Gods bathe the consecrated space in soft light. A beam of pure spirit energy manifests from everywhere and nowhere and focuses on the still, lifeless body of Wayne Hammon.
The bathing light pulses brightly, and the lifeless form contracts in place.
A second, stronger pulse of light obscuring the body completely, and when the light wanes, the body of Wayne Hammon is no more.
A third pulse, stronger than the other two, infused with the power of the air, the earth, fire, and water. Showing the faint traces of a human figure standing within the light.
A final pulse, empowered by the three realms and the gods infuse the body with the silvery light bright as burning magnesium.
The light fades away, the human form is Wayne Hammon. Perfectly formed, without scar, flawless features. His eyes open, the irises a brilliant shade of gray and the sadistic grin so well trademarked to Freezer Burn emerges.
“The Wrestling God is Reborn. Be .. very .. afraid.”
