The alarm was set for 5am but, inevitably, some of us were up and about long before then. There was the temple to prepare, the first real costumes for the Triad and anyway… who could sleep knowing what was to come? As I donned a wrap it occurred to me that our proposed 7am start would see the village wide awake. The Companions had been told to dress warmly to climb the hill… it is April after all… three of us though would be in costume for the walk through the village. One would be masked, one would be green and fairly unrecognisable… I, on the other hand, was going to be unmasked and very visible. It occurred to me that it is not so long ago that this would have been daunting; these days I take it in my stride, knowing that once the ritual begins I will not even notice. As Stuart often says, you open up and get out of the way.

First stop was outside to check the weather. Cold, no rain, but very damp and with a chill wind. This was not the warmth we had wanted, but it could be much worse. A silent prayer of thanks that once again we had the weather we needed. It has become something of a tradition to work at least one ritual in the landscape and though five form the basis of the weekend, this too is a part of the story. This year there would be seven in all. Stuart had mentioned a line from the Earth Shapers, where the Earth had dreamed of beauty. We had been given the form of the ritual it seemed as it built itself in the shortest of times, coming almost fully formed from that single line.

A scratch on the door heralded the arrival of a black clad figure armed with coffee and intent on gilding his claws. He remained, perched on my bed while I stood at the mirror… painting his nails with all the assurance of a man who has never done it before, while I applied a make-up more suited to ancient Egypt than a Derbyshire morning before gilding his eyes too. The gold and iridescent blue would be all that was seen of his face behind the mask. Props were minimal and already packed in a small bag with my camera. We do not take photographs in ritual. Not even on the hillside. But the camera would be there for one of the Companions afterwards. We want to be as open as we can about what we do, demystifying the shadows that have long surrounded Mystery Schools in some ways… though the true Mystery is not in what we do, but what we seek and why.

My companion left to get ready while I flitted off to do some last minute preparations before dressing. All unthinking, I walked back into my little room and almost died of shock; Anubis, the jackal headed Walker Between the Worlds stood, seemingly huge, inside the door, filling the space with his presence and exuding strength. It was a tad unexpected… and I knew what we were about to do. The rest of the company had simply been told to wait in their rooms to be collected for the hillside… God help them.

As the impossibly tall figure of Anubis left to begin the vigil in the silent Temple, I began to don my costume. It is at this point that the apparent playacting becomes something else. Intent, dedication to that Something we call the Light… Purpose… and reverence… all these sweep away the mundane mind. You open up and get out of the way. It is no longer ‘just’ a drama, it is a sacred rite. All the planning no longer matters, nor does the costume, nor how you look or how you may be perceived as you walk through a village street in the morning light. All these things are but a vessel, a framework that something else clothes in presence.

I knocked to summon the third of our Triad and met startled eyes. Isis led the way in silence to our Temple and Osiris followed.