Beltane has been described in as many ways as there are people who celebrate the frolicsome day. The words sex, fertility, beginning of summer… are often used when speaking of it. I feel Beltane is love and lust that can be shared with another, felt with the earth, or just enjoyed in the company of one’s creative self.
I never thought Beltane could also be a kind of magic that leaves the soul wide-eyed and the body panting. Then a few days ago, I went to see my Piano Man conduct a musical. I’ve always loved to watch him in front of a piano or leading an orchestra—there is something erotic about a man who makes music happen with a wave of his hands or a few strokes of his fingers. But I digress… Near the end of the show, I looked away from the actors and focused on my Piano Man’s back.
He was fully clad in black. He spread his arms wide, the left above his head and the right about waist height. My mind’s eyes saw his forearms, shoulders and back muscles flex under his clothes. My body felt his hands play each note on my skin. The music got louder on my flesh. And in my soul, my Piano Man became a dark phoenix made of song. I burst into tears; not the cute tears inspired by touching art, but fat sobs that shook my body to its core.
“I know,” said an elderly lady who sat next to me, “such a beautiful song.”
I nodded, dabbing my eyes with the tissue she handed me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I hadn’t heard the song. That it was the man—not the music—who ripped those shuddering cries out of my heart. That I was feeling like Nature must feel every Beltane: ready for Spring to spread her petals, for Summer to kiss the Land on the mouth, for all living things to get hot and wild…
I would tell you what happened after my Piano Man and I found a place where we could take our clothes off without getting them dirty, but Blogger would probably blush and die of prudery. I guess I can say that there was some Bailey’s Irish Cream, some champagne, lots of moaning and screaming, and there was love.
Before my satiated body passed out (like it’s only proper), I remember thinking, Happy Beltane to me…
Happy Beltane, my Wicked Luvs.
May the lusty fires of Nature’s love burn hot and wild in all who wish it ;-)