Welcome to Blackberry Circle

Our next public ritual will be the Autumn Equinox / Mabon Ritual. This ritual will be held on September 27th beginning at 7:30 P.M. This will be a very special harvest festival so check out the page for that event to learn more.

As always, visit our events page for more information about what is going on at Blackberry Circle

We have put up a Wish List page. This page will outline services or supplies we desperately need. Please check it out and let us know if you can help out with any of the items listed.

Due to some recent problems with the behavior of some attendees, Blackberry Circle has now developed an Alcohol and Drug Use Policy. The policy can be found on our Policies page.

Blackberry Circle is a recognized Pagan church located in Conroe, Texas. As of March 20th, 2007 (Vernal Equinox) we have become a recognized church by the state of Texas. Now we are working on our 501(c)(3) federal recognition.

BRING A ROCK, STONE OR BRICK (and yes, SHELLS work as well) - In order to make Blackberry Circle even more magical we ask that folks who attend any rituals bring a rock, stone or brick with them to the ritual. These items will be placed to begin a path to the Circle or fire pit. Eventually the entire path will be covered with stones and rocks brought by those who attend the rituals.

We happened to find a nice poem by an American poet named Robert Hass. If you look at the last lines you will see why we think it is appropriate for here...

MEDITATIONS AT LAGUNITAS

All the new thinking is about loss.
In this it resembles all the old thinking.
The idea, for example, that each particular erases
the luminous clarity of a general idea. That the clown-
faced woodpecker probing the dead sculpted trunk
of that black birch is, by his presence,
some tragic falling off from a first world
of undivided light. Or the other notion that,
because there is in this world no one thing
to which the bramble of blackberry corresponds,
a word is elegy to what it signifies.
We talked about it late last night and in the voice
of my friend, there was a thin wire of grief, a tone
almost querulous. After a while I understood that,
talking this way, everything dissolves: justice,
pine, hair, woman, you and I. There was a woman
I made love to and I remembered how, holding
her small shoulders in my hands sometimes,
I felt a violent wonder at her presence
like a thirst for salt, for my childhood river
with its island willows, silly music from the pleasure boat,
muddy places where we caught the little orange-silver fish
called pumpkinseed. It hardly had to do with her.
Longing, we say, because desire is full
of endless distances. I must have been the same to her.
But I remember so much, the way her hands dismantled bread,
the thing her father said that hurt her, what
she dreamed. There are moments when the body is as numinous
as words, days that are the good flesh continuing.
Such tenderness, those afternoons and evenings,
saying blackberry, blackberry, blackberry.

© 1987 Robert Hass