by Kathryn Enoch © 1998 257 pages, trade paperback Pagan spirituality, the roots of the Christ Myth, is incorporated into this story of a contemporary Goddess whose incarnation parallels the life of Jesus. Prologue September 22, 1968 "That's strong grass," Brigit muttered, her eyes sunk and her mind lulled. Stronger than any she had smoked before. She didn't do drugs, really. Sharing an occasional joint with a group of people you knew wasn't really doing drugs. Not really. Brigit struggled to fix on a coherent thought. She had inhaled how much? Two puffs. Had some other substance been added to the joint? She'd heard about the psychedelic effects of acid, but also about the risk of a bad trip. LSD held no interest for her. Toking up just gave you a mellow feeling while you partied with friends and grooved on the music. The music...Brigit giggled. Two local bands. Her younger brother played keyboard for one of them. Tonight was Paxton, Wisconsin's equivalent of a rock concert. The kids attending were townies or students from the local college. She giggled again. She was both, a townie and a student. Like, a senior student. Like, one more year and on to Real Life armed with a bachelor of arts degree in library science. Brigit shivered, but not from being cold. Several bonfires blazed on the narrow beach, and no wind stirred the evening. She shivered again. How strange she felt. Like her whole being was opening...to possibilities. At the fork in the county woods leading to the lake, state troopers had congregated on the service road to monitor the gathering of youth, but they had been instructed not to interfere unless the group got rowdy. Look the other way had been Chief Scougan's advice, the chief whose son, Sam, played guitar with Brigit's brother, Patrick. The song lyrics took on clarity, and Brigit's hearing sharpened. Not dreamin', it's not dreamin', It's feelin', it's believin', Listen to me. I am healin', I am worth believin', I am worth pleasin', Oh, the souls are a'grievin', in sore need of healin', and beggin' to be givin' Peace. So I'll try again, To set your journey to its end. Set it right, Towards the light, So I'll try again... Strange words, but soothing. And the Singer's voice...unfamiliar, eloquent, inviting...full of promise. A promise that would be kept... The song's message, the music's sound gave Brigit peace. No, getting high gives you peace. No, peace came from the song. No, peace came from the words of the song...she opened her eyes to an immense moon that had risen over the lake. Its luminance commanded the sky, and Brigit was conscious that the music and the voices of the crowd had receded. She felt alone in a bath of silver light. Ridiculous. The sweet smoke of marijuana clogged the air and the mind tended to focus inward from the drug, but the several hundred people squeezed on to blankets had not suddenly vanished. "You have a special soul, Brigit," the Singer whispered, "a soul meant to nurture. I love you, Brigit." This is a 'high' from grass that might not be grass, her mind warned, but she responded with complete sincerity, "I love you, too." "Love redeems you." "And gives you peace," she answered. "Yes, love is the way to Peace..." The Singer kissed Brigit, and she welcomed the love offered. When Brigit woke, the radiance in her bedroom smarted her eyes. She had forgotten to close her shutters when she'd gone to bed. When had she gone to bed? The Singer and her behavior...that grass must have been doctored in some manner! Okay, before she panicked, she'd be logical and assess what she could remember about the previous night. Unlike her friends, she was not casual about sex. She had been engaged to her high school sweetheart, Lyle, when she had slept with him for the first time; her freshman year in college, he had been killed in Vietnam. At twenty-one, therefore, a single involved relationship was quite old-fashioned for a generation of women taking the Pill and bent on sleeping with everybody. Yet whatever she had inhaled last night had abolished her inhibitions! A total stranger had made love to her, and if she recollected correctly, in the company of a lot of people! But at the time, there had been no people...the silver light must have acted as some sort of shield...and the singer had been familiar...more than familiar...rather, like a dear, close friend... Brigit relaxed and stretched. No need to panic. The whole situation had been bizarre, but whatever had happened it had been good. And peaceful. During the night, and now, peace filled her. No matter what the consequences, she had totally loved the singer who had totally loved her. At no time did it occur to Brigit that her window faced North. The sun never shone directly into her bedroom. The room never brightened from the sun to hurt her eyes like it was doing this morning. Eight weeks later, an obstetrician in Chippewa Falls confirmed Brigit's pregnancy, but the singer's peaceful essence remained with her. Her supportive family respected her decision to keep the child and reinforced her calm about the future. They could be called upon for help. (Patrick affectionately teased that the solar eclipse on the 22nd had caused her wild abandon. Brigit checked the calendar expecting to attribute her wanton behavior to the full Moon. Oddly, she discovered that the 22nd had been a new Moon, not a full Moon. But it was also the Autumnal Equinox. Perhaps that condition plus the eclipse had some connection to the bright Moon she had experienced.) Thus able to finish her education, Brigit took her last exam one month prior to a normal delivery of a healthy baby girl on June 21, 1969. She could find no logic to it, but early in her pregnancy, she had read an obscure mythical fantasy unearthed at a rummage sale and felt compelled to name the child Theone for the compassionate heroine.   The night of Theone's birth Patrick sneaked a toke on the hospital's deserted visitors' deck while he grooved on a glossy slice of waxing moon broadcasting an awesome silvery beam amid a cascade of resplendent stars. Around the world, ordinary, but spiritually rich women dreamed of the girl child. At Palomar Observatory, ninety miles southeast of Pasadena, California, an astronomer glanced at a calendar and noted that it was the Summer Solstice, the longest daylight hours of the year. Adorned in flower circlets, Pagans celebrated Midsummer, a highly magickal Day of Power. In rites of purification, they leaped bonfires symbolizing the Sun, and they honored Nature, the fruitful evidence of the Goddess and God. Astrologers already knew the times were momentous because of the orbital meeting of the outer planets of Uranus and Pluto. According to tradition, the event forecast revolution.   Six months passed. At the college library where she had found employment, Brigit met craggy, bearded Aaron Jones, a second year graduate student in social services, and they fell in love. Before she agreed to marry him the following summer, she explained to him about the unusual circumstances of Theone's conception. An empathetic man who felt his mission was to assist the less fortunate, Brigit's disclosure only served to further endear her daughter. From that point forward, Aaron considered Theone as his own. After the wedding, the family moved to a rental in Aaron's hometown, Ashburg, a northwest suburb of Chicago. Aaron's heart arrhythmia exempted him from the Draft; having lost her first love in the war, Brigit felt thankful that this relationship would not be subject to the trauma of Vietnam. Aaron earned his doctorate at a city university while working as a government caseworker assisting immigrants. During this period, Brigit gave birth to a daughter, Kristen, in 1971 and a son, Erik, in 1972. Several years later, a newly funded organization set up in Chicago by a worldwide religious council to aid refugees settling in the U.S. offered Aaron a counselor position, and the Jones were able to afford their first house. They purchased one in the same established neighborhood as his parents. Near the train line, Aaron could continue walking to the station. Social work was gratifying, but not lucrative. Their used Volkswagen van required constant repair. The Jones' sunny, red brick bungalow with a finished attic partitioned for the children's rooms became an inviting place cluttered with books and handicraft paraphernalia; the children showed no inclination to participate in competitive sports. The scents of baking cookies and freshly-cut flowers mingled. Aaron and Brigit lived their love and their children flourished. The first three weeks of every August, the Jones spent Aaron's vacation visiting Brigit's family in Paxton near Lake Femvivant in Northwestern Wisconsin. Kristen had no interest in it, but Aaron always packed gear so that he, Theone and Erik could camp out a few nights and rise early to fish. Patrick, who had remained in Paxton, loaned them his row boat. (They fished for recreation, not survival, so Theone made sure that they caught nothing worth keeping.) Later in the day, they would hike in the woods and at night, Aaron swore the mosquitoes would eat her, but he still let Theone sleep under the stars while he and Erik retreated to the tent. She never showed any bites, and Aaron always gave credit to the smoke from the dying fire as her protection. (Theone did not mention to Aaron about the raccoons who always rested next to her or the owl who watched over her.) From earliest memory, she listed times spent in Paxton as the best. The fall that Theone started kindergarten, the Jones decided to activate their church affiliation. They reasoned that their values had been favorably shaped by youthful attendance, and therefore important for their children to be given the same training. 'Our prayers are answered,' Aaron's parents exclaimed, when the family began attending services at the senior Jones' two-story white frame church. Like everything else, Erik found church agreeable. A great group of guys came to his Sunday School class. Kristen thrived on the recognition she received. She won prizes for memorized verse and always received a part as a principal player in the frequent youth pageants, or performed as a soloist in the children's choir. Theone participated because she understood about the importance of family harmony, but she knew from the first prayer that this narrow worship was not her way...