Blessed Beltane. Last night, once again in far too long, I was dancing around the Beltane fire out in the woods. My feet against the ground, my body naked as the fire baked me. And the circle came round and round, and eventually the drumming stopped for a break. And someone responded with what in our community is a very traditional response, "Hail to the drummers!"

And one of the ritual leads said, don't do that. "Hail to the moon," perhaps, or "Hail to earth!" And I was puzzled because this had been a thing our community did—giving praise to the various elements of the ritual team, to the roles people took on for years. And I asked why. And was told that when we worship people, when we praise them, we lift them up. And that is how kings and dictators are made.

In today's world, we do not wish to make more kings and dictators. We have quite enough, thank you. But this didn't sit right with me. Because when I first entered the circle—when I first danced around the fire—that moment when people said, "Hail to the dancers!" was a moment that reassured me I belonged in that space, that I was actually having value. And I don't want to take that away: I don't want to take away our community welcoming those who choose to contribute and acknowledging that the work they do is what builds the sacred alchemical container.

There is the fire, the drumming, the dancing,and the space. But those elements are not just there. Those elements are created by people: People who spend the time and the energy to put that fire together, People who spend hours drumming and far more time learning to drum,. and the people who move the energy around the fire—the dancers. And the people who create that container, who stand to the side and watch and sometimes participate and sometimes use the container we create. The magic is a magic created by people.

For me, maintaining that foremost in our mind is important because if it's a magic created by people, we are empowering all of us to create that magic. You can learn to drum. You can be a drummer. It is not that the drums are some magic unattainable thing. Even though sitting there with no rhythm and no experience, it may feel that way. But instead, by putting in your energy and effort, you can become a drummer and take on that role. And I worry that when we divorce the role and the thing from the people, we take away our power to let the next generation make the magic.

These days, when I hear "Hail to the dancers!" it still fills me with a reminder that I matter in this space. I shouldn't need that reminder: there are so many personal ways in which I know I am welcome. There are so many ways in which I have had the blessing of seeing that my work touches someone else. And yet, those words still help me center myself in the space. But I acknowledge for myself, as someone who's been around a while, that is on me.

But in the beginning, when I was new, when I was wondering whether I had a place, those words—that welcome—that reassurance, that yes, what I was doing was valuable and was creating the magic, meant so much. And I do not wish to take it away.

So what is it that helps create kings and dictators? And what is it that is valuable that we want to keep? I've been reminiscing on this since that ritual. I think the challenge may come when we lift a few into a position that others see they cannot obtain. In our community, perhaps it is true that many of the people in the named roles of drummer and fire tender have been doing it for a long time and have become leaders in the community. And so, perhaps sometimes, those words could serve to focus attention on leaders rather than focus attention on the potential magic that we can all make.

Perhaps though, we can refocus that energy. Those of us who are leaders can, at various points during the night, find someone new in a role we value and remind them that when the crowd shouts, "Hail to the drummers" or "Hail to the dancers," that it's those new people that they are thanking. It's those new people that they are empowering. And if we cannot find someone new to say that to, perhaps we can take that as a sign that we have work to do in building our community and expanding it out so that there are new people to empower and so that we do not ossify.

I also think that worse than praising ourselves for the work we do in creating magic is creating hierarchy—the actual assigning of privilege to people in leadership roles where that privilege isn't necessary. I remember when I came into the space being told, "Oh no, that water is for the drummers. You should bring your own," or being told about various privileges that people had based on what they were doing in their seniority. Only fire tenders led ritual. They were the ones who were experienced and who put in the energy. So of course they were the ones who guided our community. We’ve stepped away from that somewhat. Yes, there is a water container near the drummers, and yes that’s probably for the drummers. But there is another perfectly fine water cooler for everyone else. Yet those actual marks of privilege last for a long time. I still feel a little uncomfortable stepping into the drummer tent to talk to people during a break. Placing my bag at the back of the tent where I can find it is still something I have to remind myself I’ve been explicitly permitted to do. Because there was a time when doing any of those things absolutely would have been overstepping my place in the community.

And sometimes perhaps giving those privileges is something we should do. If you're going to put in the sweat equity of building the fire and spending all day creating the energy and putting your energy into it, and you also want to have an opportunity to shape the ritual, well, perhaps that makes sense. And yet these privileges and service we offer to some in the community are what concerns me more than praise we offer. They're not necessarily wrong, but they absolutely are the thing to focus on when we do not wish to lift people up and create kings and dictators.

And finally, there is the word hail. What does it mean? It all comes back to the question of intentionality. Perhaps the thing we can do after someone says, "Hail to the drummers!" is take a moment to ask, what is it that we're putting into that intentionality? What does that word mean in that sense? Are we worshiping? Are we giving thanks? Are we focusing on the individuals in that space now, or are we focusing on the importance of that archetype to the magic we build?

Ah, yes, intentionality. When we do things with intentionality, we manifest the world we wish to build. Not an accident that we may come to regret.