Sorry for being late brothers here is my
Ritual bathing and cleansing. Consecrated myself by tracing celtic cross on my chest with candle (white). Arrange family heirlooms on altar, grandparents jewelry, belongings and books. Arranged in center of the altar Wunjo with my sacred rocks I've collected through hiking various places. On each side of Wunjo, I arrange Gebo also with my rocks. I began the rite proper by lighting a dark blue candle a personal invocation to the All-Father and His blessings and protections upon myself, family, and the Brotherhood. I began this invocation at 3:34am local time, Jupiter's planetary hour in my home. Next I traced Jupiter's planetary sigil in the Cardinal Directions, giving the Roman Salute each time. Said this prayer from the Orphic Hymns:
O Jove much-honor'd, Jove supremely great,
To thee our holy rites we consecrate,
Our pray'rs and expiations, king divine,
For all things round thy head exalted shine.
The earth is thine, and mountains swelling high,
The sea profound, and all within the sky.
Saturnian king, descending from above,
Magnanimous, commanding, sceptred Jove;
All-parent, principle and end of all,
Whose pow'r almighty, shakes this earthly ball;
Ev'n Nature trembles at thy mighty nod,
Loud-sounding, arm'd with light'ning, thund'ring God.
Source of abundance, purifying king,
O various-form'd from whom all natures spring;
Propitious hear my pray'r, give blameless health,
With peace divine, and necessary wealth.
Then I read aloud this Hymn to Jupiter from Callimachus:
Whilst we to Jove immortal and divine,
Perform the rites, and pour the ruddy wine;
What shall the Muse, with sacred rapture sing,
But Jove th' almighty and eternal king,
Who from high heav'n, with bursting thunder, hurl'd
The sons of earth, and awes th' ætherial world!
But say, thou first and greatest pow'r above!
Shall I Dictæan or Lycæan Jove
Attempt to sing?... Who knows thy mighty line?
And who can tell, except by pow'r divine,
If Ida's hills thy sacred birth may claim,
Or far Arcadia boast an equal fame?
The Cretans, prone to fasehood, vaunt in vain,
And impious! built thy tomb on Dicte's plain;
For Jove, th' immortal king, shall never die,
But reign o'er men and Gods above the sky.
In high Parrhafia Rhea bore the God,
Where gloomy forests on the mountains nod;
And hence such awful horror guards the grove,
Made holy by the glorious birth of Jove,
That now no teeming female dares presume
To bear her young amid the hallowed gloom:
Nor beast nor insect shall approach the shade,
Nor matron chaste invoke Lucina's aid
Within the dark recess, still known to fame,
And Rheas ancient bed th' Arcadians name.
Soon as her womb discharged the mighty load,
She fought a spring to bath the new-born God,
But in Parrhasia yet no stream appears,
Tho' fam'd for num'rous rills in after-years;
And when the Pow'r ungirt her spacious breast,
The dusty fields displayed a barren waste.
Nor yet broad Ladon flow'd, the plains to lave,
Nor Erymanthus pour'd his limpid wave;
Wide branching oaks Ïasus' channel shade,
And chariots roll on Mela's sandy bed:
Unnumbered savage beasts securely throng,
Where now deep Carion swiftly glides along;
A thirsty swain amid the wilds might go
Where chrystal Cratis and Metopè flow,
Nor find a spring; but still, with wonder, hear
Th' imprison'd water murm'ring on his ear.
The venerable Goddess, thus distress'd,
With awful voice the pregnant earth address'd;
Slight are the pangs, O friendly Pow'r, she said,
Bring forth like me to give thy suppliant aid:
She rais'd her mighty arm as thus she spoke,
And with her sceptre, struck the solid rock;
Wide at the blow, the yawning mountain rent,
The floods impetuous issued from the vent,
And pour'd along the ground in swelling streams,
Where soon she bath'd Jove's beauteous infant-limbs.
Thy body cleans'd, and wrapt in purple bands,
She gave the precious pledge to Neda's hands,
And much enjoin'd her, with a mother's care,
To seek the Cretan cave and hide thee there.
For she was first-born of the beauteous maids
That nurs'd the Thund'rer in the gloomy shades,
Save Styx and Philyrè; from whence she gain'd
More high rewards than virgin e'er obtain'd:
For Neda's name the grateful Goddess gave
To this most ancient stream, whose rolling wave
With force impetuous pours along the plain,
And near the walls of Leprium meets the main;
The sons of Arcas hear the waters roar,
And drink the sacred flood, and crowd the shore.