MidSummer Meditation

Aine © Helen Reed

Meditation for Communion with Aine at Midsummer

I have adapted this meditation from a similar one utilized by R.J. Stewart in his book the Well of Light. I have also included certain synthemata specific for this seasonal celebration that has been taken from the works of Agrippa and Traditional Folkloric sources that will be observed in such things as the ingredients used in the incense to be burned, herbs used for the aromatic strewing of the area in which the meditation will take place as well as the imagery and correspondences used in the meditation itself.

It is hoped that the particular sequence and pattern of the imagery and the symbols used will reveal certain esoteric truths to those taking part in this meditation and that this event will serve as a key to subtly unlock the potential to manifest and build an active working relationship with the feminine and divine force who will be personified to us by the Irish Faery Queen Aine. To those of you who already have an active relationship with the powerful forces of Faerie it is my hope that this meditation will merely seek to enhance that already present state.

Strewing Mixture

Chamomile, St. John’s Wort, Calendula, Yarrow, Vervain, Burdock, Fern, Daisy

Incense Mixture (to be burned)

Mugwort, Rosemary, Frankincense, Bay Laurel, Copal

Aromatics (wort mixture whose scent is to be lightly crushed then breathed in deeply)
Mugwort, Yarrow, Ginger, Cloves, Rosemary

We will begin by first shaking off the day’s accumulation of stress and casting off any baneful or baleful influences we may have gathered during our normal activities. Physically shake your legs and arms several times and as you do so picture all of these detracting attachments as being released and that you are now rid off them and the scope of their influence. Close your eyes and take several deep breaths, holding each breath for a several second count before release. In this act, also visualize that what you are breathing in is a silvery colored mist and that as you hold this mist in your lungs that it collects those same detrimental effects but this time on an internal level. As you exhale, the internal detritus that we cast off with each breath now tarnishes that silvery color.

When you feel sufficiently refreshed and cleansed take a handful of the strewing herbs and gently crush them between your hands and sprinkle them around the perimeter and in the body of the compass area for the meditation. As you sprinkle the herbs give a constant thought to the idea that you are sprinkling these herbs as an invitation to the forces of Faerie and that you desire to make a pleasing place for them to come and commune with us.

Afterwards please sit either in a camp chair or on the ground and make yourself comfortable. Take off your shoes if you wish, loosen any restrictive clothing; if you want to recline instead of sit you may do so now. At this time we will make a small fire in the cauldron and add the worts listed earlier. We hope to create an otherwordly state of inbetweeness by the smoke that arises from the cauldron. As this smoke wafts over you and around you it takes you further from the world of men and machines and closer to the world of idyllic dreams and potent wishes.

Now we pass around a small pot of herbs and worts that will have been crushed to release their fragrance. When the pot is passed to you inhale the scent and aroma that comes from the mixture. As you breathe these scents in concentrate on the same idea that you had when you crushed the strewing herbs except this time the hospitable environment you want to create for the presence of the Good Folk or the Gentry is inside you instead of outside of you.

When everyone has had an opportunity to breathe deeply the scents from the pot of worts the soft trills of a flute will play to indicate that we are ready to begin our journey.


In the early hours of the afternoon you find yourself at the Crossroads, the place where four hidden ways come together in union. You now recognize and affirm the Seven Directions. You give a small, almost imperceptible nod to the East and see in the far distance there the plains that reveal tall amber and golden grasses lazily waving in the wind. Now you focus your attention on the South, where a dark round earthen hill that is host to a lone tree that is full of many pale green trembling leaves can be seen. Your attention is now captured by the sounds of the clear and pure watercourse that runs through the West, a gushing river that tumbles over roots and rocks to eventually make way to a sea that lies beyond your sight. Now you face the North and are aware of a dark and cool forest whose treetops give way to the airy heights of a mountain that is home to many unseen beings. Now we recognize and give homage to that which is Above us. And the same affirmation is now given to that which is Below. And finally, we honor that which is Within us, here at the center.

We take a deep breath and look towards the North, where the mountain awaits us. Feeling neither hunger nor thirst, we begin walking to the forested area that lies before us and we look for the edge of the path that we know will be found there, the path that will wind it’s way to the top of the mountain. Our shoes are sturdy and we do not feel the small pebbles and stones that clatter beneath our feet as we walk. The sun above us offers a warm embrace and casts a golden glow on the vista before us. A chorus of bees hums in the distance and oxeye daisies bob their heads from where they are nestled among thick clusters of ferns. Propped against a tall and empowering oak tree is an aged walking stick that has seen many a season pass it by. All the bark has been rubbed clean off in the spot where your hand would comfortably rest. The stick looks as if it was left here just for you and you pick it up firmly in your hand and make your way towards the path, ever upwards. It has a nice weight and heft and assists you with ease as you make your way up to the path.

With the aid of your walking stick you find your way to the well-worn path that is marked quite simply by a lone standing stone. The stone is taller than you are though not as slender, and persons unknown have etched tiny spirals onto the surface in many places. You pause for a moment and allow your fingers to trace the patterns of the spirals around and around. The hard stone that has stood here as a sentinel for centuries has been heated by the sun and is very warm to your touch. You aren’t sure if it is the heat radiating from the stone or the effort of tracing the spirals but your fingers tingle now and the tingling spreads up through your hand and down your arm where it eventually reaches your heart and the tingling sensation becomes stronger. With the tingling sensation still present you clasp your walking staff once again and continue on your journey. You walk on with no sensation of the time that has passed and find that you are not tired in the least and need no rest.

Clouds subdue the strength of the sun as you round a bend and come into a grove of cedar trees. Their bracing scent fills the air and a cool wind carries the scent aloft. You look behind you and can see that you have traveled quite a distance and that you have already come round halfway to your destination that awaits at the top of the mountain. The stone that marked the beginning of the path is now but a small shadow below. As you turn back to continue your trek a small brown shape darts quickly in front of you. A young rabbit has leapt across the path before you and now forages in a bed of clover as if you were not even there. As you pass by you notice he is clearly unafraid and that you can even see his pale whiskers that wriggle as he chews. Silently you wish him well and take your place once again along the path that wanders upward.

As you walk your gaze is taken to the deep forests that are seen on either side of the path before you. You can clearly see a variety of trees and as you look closely you can see the white and shining berries from the mistletoe hidden among the leaves and branches of some of the older oaks in the vicinity. Suddenly you spy what appears to be a young tow-headed boy that is wearing tawny colored garments and stands in a small meadow. You can hear the sound of the boy laughing and you wonder what it is that gives him such pleasure. As you get closer you can see that the boy has a small chaplet of colorful wildflowers woven together and he wears it as if it were a crown. With one arm the boy hugs the neck of huge peacock that has the most brilliant and iridescent feathers you have ever seen. The peacock fans his beautiful tail wide again and again and it is this gesture that amuses the boy and makes him laugh so. (trill of the flute plays here again) This moment seems to be a private one between the boy and the bird and you do not wish to intrude so you do not leave the path to join them but continue to make your ascent.

Before you know it you have climbed all the way to the crest of the mountain. The trees here offer a cool shade that is quite welcome and you find an old hollowed stump that holds a bounty of clear rainwater that looks most refreshing. Laying your walking stick aside for the moment you cup your hands to gather the delicious liquid to drink and the cool waters fill your mouth and wash away the dust and dryness that have come from your vigorous walk. After your hearty drink you splash some of the water on your cheeks and forehead and revel in the cool revitalizing effect this has.

When you look up from this task you notice a small cottage set a short distance from the crested area where the low stump was found. Your curiosity having been thoroughly piqued you once again take up your walking staff and head to where the cottage sits amid a large ash tree, an even larger oak that has a small thorn tree neatly nestled between the two. The cottage has a low thatched roof and rugged outer walls that look to have been made from local fallen timber. These outer walls have thick vines of ivy growing haphazardly about in a rambling fashion and there are small rose bushes planted all along the ground at the cottage base. These roses are bursting with tiny delicate white blooms that offer up a fragrant scent even from this distance. There is no smoke coming from the stone chimney and no lights are shining out of the smoky windowpanes yet the rustic door to the cottage is ajar and offers a silent but pleasing invitation to enter within.

You leave your walking staff propped against the wall and make your way to the door. A gentle push from your hand allows the door to open fully so you may enter with ease. When your hand touches the dark wood of the door your hand begins to tingle just as it did when you traced the patterns on the standing stone. You enter the cottage and find the ceiling covered with racks of drying herbs and flowers. The sharp scent of rosemary pierces the air, followed by the aroma of cloves, then ginger. Vibrantly hued wildflowers of purple, gold, and saffron hang in bunches tied with ribbon and raffia between bunches of angelica, chamomile, vervain and yarrow. The scents are overwhelming at first and it only takes a moment for you to be accustomed to their evocative aromas.

You see a stone hearth that is cold and dark, there is no warm fire lit there. As your eyes become used to the murky interior you see a wooden table across the room that has at the center a small copper platter that is laden with stones piled up into a small cairn. With the door to the cottage fully open now a shaft of light suddenly enters the cottage and illuminates the cairn of stones on the table. You walk closer and see many stones of various shapes and sizes. Amber, ruby, tiger’s eye, topaz and carnelian are among the ones that you can easily identify. The sunlight that has come through the open cottage door has made the stones bright and glowing and you reach out your hand to touch the stone at the top of the cairn. It is warm and radiates with a strong power. Now that the cottage is lit up within from the light without you can see that there is no one inside to meet you or to greet you.

As your gaze finds its way across the room you see a painting on the near wall to the right. This painting is of an outdoor setting that looks hauntingly familiar and has as a focal point the visage of a lovely woman with long blonde tresses who is dressed in a gown of green. In one hand she holds a small mirror and her smiling countenance is reflected back to her from its depths. Her other hand caresses the cheek of a young boy who looks very similar to the boy that you saw on your journey up to the mountaintop. The painting evokes feelings of tenderness in you and while you do not know either of the people in the painting you feel a sense of intimacy and closeness with both of them.

Now your gaze is taken away from the ornate painting and you see that there is back door to this cottage and that it too stands open, inviting you to walk past the threshold and beyond to find what waits there. Outside the cottage is a small garden plot with many of the items that you saw drying growing abundantly there. The garden plot is a riot of color and scents, as it appears that everything growing there is at the peak of its season giving off a virid sense of potency. On top of all those scents you also smell the scent of smoke, of woodfire burning. The smell of this smoke evokes memorable images from many camping endeavors you had as a child and as an adult and deeply embedded in that smell is a host of fond memories.

You follow the scent of smoke and come to a small clearing. At the center of this clearing is a roaring fire built below a tripod that holds a large and heavy cauldron. The flames constantly crackle and occasionally burning embers pop and hiss, smoke slowly spirals into the air from above the cauldron and as you look closer you see that the tendrils of smoke spiral into the same shapes as were etched into the standing stone. As you near the cauldron you become aware of a figure coming towards you. It is a woman, the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. Her face is unlined yet you can tell she is ancient figure that encompasses the past, the present and the future. Her eyes gaze back at you with a delightful sense of merriment. Her dress is of a silvery material yet when she turns to come closer to you it shifts and changes color before your eyes, in one moment golden, now silver, and now a coppery tint.

You see that the dress she wears is decorated in the same spirals that you found on the stone and that have now been borne onto the winds from the smoke above the cauldron. Yet, these spirals seem alive. They move, the spirals are forming and growing and spiraling outwards in unison, and now they appear to unwind and draw their tails inwards. They move in this way extending their arms and then drawing them into the center, hundreds of them, alternating, each with their own cadence and rhythm. You can hardly take your gaze away from this magical dress as you hear the lilting sound of this ephemeral figure laughing gently (sound of flute here). As she reaches your side she takes your hands into hers and you feel that same tingling that you felt previously. This time the tingling travels all throughout your body from the ends of your toes to the top of your head.

“I am Aine and I have been waiting for you,” she says. You wonder in amazement how she could have known that you were coming to see her, how she knew that you would take the path that led to her cottage. Yet you know that she somehow knew all things, things that had happened in the past, things that were happening at this instant and things that were yet to happen. “I have a gift for you,” she says. She leads you over near the cauldron and with a long ladle she fishes something up from the depths. She plucks it out of the center of the ladle and quickly slips it to you and you then slip this item into your pocket without looking at it. Despite coming from out of the depths of the bubbling cauldron this item is only slightly warm, not hot at all, and does not burn you at all even though you can feel its warmth through your pocket. You are about to tell her thank you when she shakes her head telling you with her simple but determined action that it is not necessary to thank her for this gift.

As you walk with her you can hear the tinkling of many tiny bells. (bells tinkle here) Near the bubbling cauldron she finds a fallen oak tree that offers up a place for you both to be seated in comfort. You both sit; your one hand is still wrapped warmly in her own. She leans in closer to you; her face is only inches from your own. Her breath is warm and comforting and smells of ripe pears taken from the bough, it smells of fresh cream, of berries found by the wayside, of cinnamon and cardamom. She whispers that she has news for you, news from afar and she begins to talk to you and tell you secrets that only you shall ever know. Secrets meant for only you found in the song of birds and the chatter of squirrels. (pause for personal reflection of Aine’s message; music plays here)

After Aine speaks to you and tells you things meant only for your ears you notice that the amber shafts of sunlight that comes through the trees have lengthened and that the afternoon is languidly passing by. Aine stands with you now and she tells you that she has something that she wants you to see. You follow her as she walks past the garden plot with its many strong scented and brightly colored inhabitants, past the cauldron that still bubbles merrily, past the cords of wood neatly stacked for a fire that has not yet been lit.

You round a corner and come upon a small pond. The waters of this pond are still with hardly any movement yet occasionally a small breeze ripples the contents like an unseen hand that touches the water. The golden sunlight dances across the surface of this pond and gives the appearance of a bright and shining jewel that refracts the light from the sun. Just then a small flock of swans come through the underbrush on the far side of the pond and gracefully slide into the water. Smaller swans, children to these parents, flap their wings in an agitated manner to try and keep up with the Father and Mother who are enjoying their late afternoon revelry. Soon the entire family is slowly making their way across the pond in a long v shape with the patriarch at the forefront, the matriarch next who continue to give loving backward glances to the children making sure they are keeping up. These snowy parents are flanked by their five squabbling offspring and for some reason you think that they now resemble some unnamed constellation that have come down from the skies to take a refreshing afternoon swim. An odd thought to be sure and despite it you continue to watch their antics with great interest. You are very glad that Aine, the Faery Queen, has chosen to share this holy and sacred spot with you and your heart warms at the scene that unfolds before you.

Aine smiles at you and in that smile is a cunning and conspiratorial look. You think that you must be very lucky to have her share this moment with you. Now you both turn back to the cottage and leave the swans to their revels in private. As you get closer to the cottage you know that each step brings you closer to the awareness that you must ready yourself to leave now. Aine does not say anything about this, as no words are needed. You both know that as you walk closer to the cottage door that when you cross that threshold that it will return you to the world of Men and machines even though you would love to be able to stay in this realm of Queens and quicksilver magic. At the cottage stoop Aine stops and hugs you strongly. She gently brushes the hair back from your face and cups your chin in her hand. She is silent but her deep gaze into your eyes says all that needs to be said. You know that she is telling you in her silent way that she will be here again for you when you are ready to take the trek back up to her sacred mountain home.

Before your eyes begin to fill with tears with the sadness at your leaving you hug her back and then you step up and through the doorway. You are back into the interior of the cottage and where before it felt empty and you could discern no presence of the host, now it radiates a warm and homey feeling even though you are yet still a guest here. You cross the room and make your way through the front door of the cottage and once again take up your walking staff, as you get ready to tread your way back to the bottom of the mountain. You stop and take one more drink from the hollowed out stump and the water refreshes you just as it did earlier. Now you begin the leisurely trek back down. The sun has been a warm and constant companion all the day and now you notice that it is close to twilight and that the evening stars will soon be twinkling above you. As you retrace the steps you made earlier in the day and now in reverse you see a shadow darken the path before you. The shadow is that of a hawk that flies overheard above you. You cup your hands above your brow and look up to watch the flight of this majestic bird as it swoops down to the valley below in a swirling golden flight.

You continue on your way with your staff gently tapping out a steady rhythm as you walk. Now the sky is edged with purple and red and you see that the sun is not far from meeting the horizon below. You keep your pace as you are in no hurry; you enjoy the walk back down as much as you did the one that took you above. When you reach the spot where you saw the boy and the colorful bird they are gone. In their place you see someone who is older, this person is a man instead of a boy though he is dressed in the same sort of garb, garments of a tawny color that look soft and quite comfortable. This man has at his side a hound that sits in a regal silence. The hound sits sternly and quietly and listens to the man as he speaks in a soft manner. You wonder if he is speaking to the hound but as the man turns you see that he speaks to a coal black raven perched on his arm. He holds his arm closely in front of him and the raven sits in rapt attention, as does the hound. At some words the man says the raven cocks his head from one side to the other as if to better hear the words the man speaks. Now the raven hops from one foot to the other as if impatient to put the words the man has said into practice. Again, as with the boy and the peacock, you do not wish to intrude on this moment between the man and his companions and so you continue your journey downwards.

You walk on in a state of quiet now; the birds and bees that made such a lively concert earlier have all gone silent as they anticipate twilight’s approach and the coming of nightfall. The evening light has softened the features of the landscape and dulled the brightly shining features that you noticed earlier in the day. As you continue to walk, with your staff making a constant staccato sound as you do, you hear the soft whinny of a horse. You cannot see where this sound originates from so you try and peer through the sloping shadows of the forest before you as you walk. As you come around a turn in the path you stand as still as can be for before you, to the left side of the path, is the silhouette of a mare looming in the darkness. Even though the night’s shadows are descending you can see that this mare is a lovely reddish roan color. She appears unafraid at your impending approach and gently stamps her hooves and tosses back her mane in a gesture that indicates to you that you are not coming close quickly enough for her comfort.

You approach this huge animal that towers above you and you can feel her hot breath on your face. Her breath also smells of pears and cinnamon and you feel a pang as you suddenly miss the company of Aine, the Queen of Faeries. You gently stroke the mare’s nose and you notice that between her eyes is a small white shape that looks similar to the pattern of spirals you have seen throughout the day that were marked on stones, seen in smoke and dancing on gowns. You reach up and move to gently touch this spot and the mare neighs her approval. When you softly stroke this creamy colored area your fingers begin to tingle just as they did when you pushed open the cottage door. You spend a few moments in quiet meditation when the crackle of a nearby branch causes the horse to bolt and take off through the underbrush without you. You watch as she gallops away into the night, pleased that you and she were able to share such a rich moment. Your fingers still tingling, you tap your walking stick in front of you and continue on below.

Now you see the dark shape of the standing stone that marked the spot where you began this journey. You know that you are not far from the Crossroads and as you pass by the stone your fingers glance across its surface, feeling the spirals carved there. This time the tingling runs all through your body except this time it feels as if it is exiting through the bottom of your feet. Each step you take seems to release this tingling power back into the earth as you walk. You are a conduit, absorbing this power from it’s many sources and giving it back into the earth for the benefit of another in another time and place. As you near the tree where you found your walking staff it seems appropriate to leave it propped up there for another traveler to find and use, for another journey made another day by another seeker.

The sky is now the color of a ripe plum and the distant twinkle of stars can be seen in the distance as you near the Crossroads. You feel a warm and comforting feeling in your heart as you recount the day’s events. You saw many splendid animals, held court with none other than the Aine, the Queen of Faeries herself who had such words of wisdom to share with you. You saw many intriguing inhabitants of the forested mountain and you know that you will never forget the details of such a wonderful and marvelous adventure. As you enter the Crossroads, those Crossroads from which your travels first took form and place, you recall the gift that Aine gave to you earlier in the day, the boon from the depths of the cauldron. And as you walk to the center of the Crossroads, to the place where the four hidden ways come together, your fingers reach deep into your pocket and you feel a smile begin to crease your face as you bring out her gift to you… (flute plays here to signal the end of the meditation).