Beltane Amidst the Rain: Finding the Maypole’s Spirit Indoors
Celebrating Beltane often involves cherished traditions, and for one particular coven, the Maypole dance is a non-negotiable highlight. However, as a recent account shared by Eric O. Scott illustrates, sometimes the weather has other plans, forcing practitioners to find creative ways to honor the season’s spirit.
The week leading up to Beltane in St. Louis was marked by persistent rain. Driving through the wet, industrial landscape, the author pondered how the traditional outdoor Maypole dance could possibly proceed. This coven, an independent branch with roots possibly tracing back to Alexandrian Wicca, has evolved over fifty years. While some sabbat rituals are flexible, shifting year to year, the Maypole for Beltane has remained a consistent, central element.
The coven had even faced logistical challenges with a physical pole before the rain became the primary concern. A twelve to fourteen-foot tall, sturdy Maypole pole stored in a basement was too large to transport safely across the river to the gathering spot in a standard vehicle. This initial hurdle foreshadowed the larger problem the rain would create.
Gathering indoors became the necessity. The covenmates, a multi-generational group ranging from infants to elders, congregated closely inside the house, escaping the persistent drizzle. Despite the crowded conditions, the atmosphere was warm, filled with shared food like monastery minestrone, smoked chicken wings, and other potluck offerings. Laughter echoed as friendly dogs greeted a giggling toddler. While a few braved the rain under a canopy to smoke, most huddled together, leaning against kitchen counters or tucked onto couches, emphasizing the close-knit nature of the community.
A beautiful altar was set up, adorned with pastels, candles, a fresh peony, chalice, and athame. As the ritual High Priest, the author still wondered about the missing Maypole dance. The covenmate hosting the event assured them they had a plan.
Midway through the ritual, after the circle was cast and the quarters called, the creative solution was revealed. The center of the altar was cleared, and a sheet of posterboard with paint markers was placed there. The instruction was simple yet ingenious: each person would use a marker to draw the path they would have danced around a physical Maypole, creating a collective, abstract representation on the board through spirals and squiggles.
As they drew, weaving in and out among each other in the living room, the coven sang the “Goddess Chant” (“Isis Astarte Hecate Demeter Kali Inanna”). There were moments of gentle bumping, forgotten marker caps, and lines layered over and under one another, translating the energy of the physical dance into collaborative art. The author’s three-year-old son even participated, adding three bold, straight lines through the center, perfectly embodying the uninhibited spirit he might have brought to dancing with a ribbon outside. His contribution was met with joyful laughter from the group.
After closing the circle and preparing for the feast, the host held up the finished posterboard, a tangible record of their improvised dance, and hung it up. This experience prompted reflection on the nature of tradition.
While there is value in consistent repetition to connect with ancestral practices, this rainy Beltane demonstrated the vital role of adaptation and growth within tradition. The coven maintained their connection to the season not by rigidly adhering to the physical act of dancing around a pole in the rain and mud, but by finding a new way to express the spiraling energy and communal weaving of the Maypole indoors. A living tradition, like a growing plant, maintains its roots but also spreads its branches and evolves to meet changing circumstances.
This account is based on an article by Eric O. Scott originally shared on The Wild Hunt, recounting a coven’s creative Beltane celebration.