Where the Hawthorn Grows

  I'm excited to announce the official release of my new book, "Where the Hawthorn Grows". It is based on this blog and includes an array of essays on my views and experiences as an Irish reconstructionist Druid. Right now it is available in paperback and will soon be out as an ebook as well.

Baby's First Bealtaine

  Bealtaine this year has been a wild and hectic affair, mostly done with my 3 month old son in my arms. Some people find children and babies a distraction in ritual but I love the energy and unexpectedness they bring. Children bring an unbridled enthusiasm, openness, and joy to ritual, along with a certain inherant chaos. Certainly carrying my son made it harder to get the May Bush set up and decorated on May Eve, but the girls enjoyed doing more of it themselves and the result was just as beautiful and definitely more unique. After decorating the May Bush we made a caudle for the Fairies and brought it out to leave at the base of our Hawthorn tree. As I was getting ready to say a small prayer to the Good Neighbors before offering it the baby started fussing so I sat down a little way off and told the girls stories about the fairies while nursing him. That seemed a wiser choice than holding a screaming hungry infant and rushing through the offering* and indeed after that was done and the caudle was poured out and the words said, as we walked away, a Robin - omen of peace, hope, and a happy home - landed in the tree's branches and began singing.
  The family ritual on Beltane itself was a low-key affair, dedicated to Macha and Nuada. I told the children the story of the Tuatha de Danann coming to Ireland and ended up talking about each of the four treasures they brought with them. We burnt juniper, rosemary, and vervain for cleansing and made offerings of cheese biscuits that we had cooked together. The weather was sunny and fair, although the spring has been so cold and dry our little Hawthorn has barely begun to leaf never mind have flowers yet; still I took the weather as a good omen for the coming summer. After the ritual I gave each of the children a small gift as a token for the holiday: a t-shirt for my oldest, a tin whistle for my 5 year old, and a placard with my son's name and its history and meaning printed on it for the baby. Later last night I did my own solitary ritual which included meditation and reflection on the winter that has passed and the summer that we are welcoming in.
  This morning, the third and final day of our Bealtaine celebrations, we walked around the yard and house burning an incense blend I make myself to bless the property. We gathered flowers and brought them in to decorate the breakfast table and planted some herb and flower seeds in our small garden, after mixing the ash from the earlier rituals into the soil.
  This Bealtaine has been hectic and in many cases things have been less about planning and more about enjoying the moment. It was amazing and beautiful, something shared with my children and full of joy. I felt that all the offerings were well received and all the omens were positive - more so than they have been in a long time. I am ready for summer and am already starting to plan the next holy day with an infant in mind...

 *The older I've gotten the more I've come to believe that it is the intent behind the action that matters the most, rather than the action alone. Actions devoid of heart are hollow no matter how well executed; actions done with heart have value. A sincere heart and genuine devotion are more powerful, I think, than the smoothest rehearsed ritual. There are many people who approach modern pagan ritual as theater, something to be preformed in awe and reverence; for them the precision and perfection of it is part of their honoring of the Gods. My rituals, while done with reverence and often inspiring awe, could never be described as perfect or precise. No, my approach to ritual is better described with words like "organic", "fluid", and "engaged" - and I suppose some people would add "casual" and probably "relaxed". For those who prefer the highly structured style I'm sure less kind adjectives would be used as well. Such is life. Maybe it's because I don't feel the Gods, don't connect to them, in highly structured rituals; I never have. It's in the spontaneous moments and the daily devotions that I feel that connection is strengthened. Give me a wild wood and a moonlit sky, or the edge of flood-swollen waters; give me a tea-light or milk poured out in sincere prayer and I am open to the Gods and they are speaking to me. Of course what works for me is probably useless to some others just as I know some other approaches do nothing for me. The ultimate point of ritual I think, is to create connection and open lines of reciprocity between us and the Powers and so for it to be effective it must create engagement both ways; we must be full participants and the Gods or other spirits must be responsive and present. Creating this in ritual is so difficult in groups precisely because what creates engagement in one person may do nothing for another. I use what works for me and what has nurtured a relationship with the Powers over the years; to each their own.

Liminal Gods

  I read a blog the other day about primal Gods that grabbed my attention and has had me thinking ever since. I don't think I've ever read anything else that simultaneously made me feel so in agreement and also wanting to argue counterpoints. Maybe that's how it should be, as we each connect to these older natural forces in our own ways. It's uncomfortable for me to talk about them, especially here, because they are so personal, representing an intimate connection to the liminal place between the living green world and the timeless Otherworld.
  I have talked in my blog before about the Irish and Norse Gods I honor, but I haven't talked about the other Gods, the nameless ones who don't belong to any pantheon. Perhaps they are not Gods at all but rather are very powerful spirits of place, although they feel larger than that; often the line between deity and spirit or daoine sidhe can be a thin one after all. I relate to them as Gods and I suppose that is all that matters in the end.
     Most of what I do in my daily life and personal practice is centered on the daoine sidhe and land spirits, shaped by the Fairy Faith through a pagan lens, so maybe it was inevitable that I would eventually encounter these liminal Gods who straddle the gray area between Otherworldly spirit and divine being. I have never asked their names and they have never offered them, so I call them by titles: the Lady of the Greenwood, the Lord of the Wildwood, the Hunter, the Queen of the Wind. Not creative titles, but descriptive ones. There is something utterly foreign and achingly familiar about them that I cannot put into words. They are primal. They are wild.  They are experiential. I have no frame of reference for them outside my own experience, no myths, no folk lore, no ancient texts to rely upon to understand them or how to honor them. Worshiping them is, perforce, an exercise in intuition and awareness; I must trust my own intuition and I must let myself be aware - of their presence, of their preferences, of their patterns. I must let myself abide in that primal place within where these qualities, intuition and awareness, are a language of their own.
    These Gods are not tame or domesticated. They aren't Gods of computers, or the safety of the hearth fire. They live in the wild places of the world, in the heartbeat of animals that have never known a human hand, in the shadows of city buildings, in the endless mist and relentless tide. They dwell on the paths to Faery, in the music of the sidhe that haunts those who hear it, in bliss and in agony. They live in the perpetual twilight and the first rays of dawn, in the flood and the storm as well as the gentle rain. You can find them in the vast wilderness and in the twisting city streets. They are forces of change; they are unchanging. They are heartlessly brutal and unimaginably kind. They are grotesque; they are beautiful. They are all these things simultaneously and in harmony.
    These are my liminal Gods, my primal Gods. This is the heart of my worship, the bridge between my Fairy Faith practices and my pagan religion, the forces that are greater Powers than the daoine sidhe and more immediate than the Gods from known pantheons. I do not have to seek them out; they are here. I speak to them beneath the moon and in the wind, amid the forest's song and the music of the rushing stream. I offer to them, pray to them, and hear their voices in synchronicity and dream.
   Theirs is not an easy path to follow because it means letting go of the civilized expectations we hold with other Gods. It is a path through the trackless forests and the untouched wilds both within and without. It puts aside logic and rational thought and embraces instinct and emotion. And once you are on their path you cannot help but be changed by it. And once you are on their path there is no turning back.

Book Review - Druidry and the Ancestors

  I recently read Nimue Brown's book Druidry and the Ancestors: finding our place in our own history. I was intrigued by the book's title but approached reading it with some trepidation as I have felt ambivalent about the work of other OBOD authors in the past. Generally my approach to Druidism is very different from OBODs and while I have great respect for the wisdom and vision of their organization the result is that books by their authors often leave me with strongly mixed feelings. I must admit I was quite pleasantly surprised by this book and found it thought provoking and more than worth reading.
  The author breaks the book down into a look at how we perceive history, the way that viewpoint shapes our ideas about ancestors, and a discussion of the ancestors themselves. She is refreshingly open about her own biases and viewpoints and uses anecdotes to illustrate her points to good effect creating a personal touch to the text. The author is also not afraid to tackle the more difficult or emotional issues of ancestry - including adoption, abuse, and invention - in a direct manner.
   After an initial chapter which defines who the ancestors were and are the second chapter delves into "history as story". I found this section to be profoundly thought provoking as it challenges the reader to look at what we know about history, how we know it, and how our view of it shapes our understanding at the most basic level. The book raises several points that I had never before considered but which will require some profound reflection long after I've put this book behind me.
  Next is a chapter on 'spotting the melons" which encourages critical thinking in reading and offers a list of basic guidelines to sort bad sources from good. The author feels, as do I, that paganism is plagued by bad source material and faulty or outdated facts and tries to educate readers about the pitfalls to be found. Although I felt that some of the examples used were a bit vague, overall the chapter was a great edition to the book. Particularly in Druidism sorting fact from fiction from fantasy is an endless process and discernment is essential.
  Moving on there is a chapter on the importance of ancestors and then several on individual types of ancestors, including ancestors of place and of tradition. I enjoyed the way that a variety of non-blood ancestors were included and that the author continues to challenge readers with new perspectives and ideas. The reality of ancestors whose stories we know well stand side by side with those who we have invented as part of our own narrative, and we are encouraged to value fact as well as myth in building practice. In this book knowing our ancestors is about knowing ourselves, and indeed one of the final chapters, "ancestors of the future", encourages us to look at ourselves as tomorrow's ancestors.
   This book is not a workbook or how-to of ancestor work; in its pages you won't find how to set up ancestor altars or what offerings to make to who. What you will find is an invaluable guide to connecting to your own past, healing broken connections, and how today's Druids are and will be the ancestors of tomorrows spiritual seekers. More than worth reading, more than once.

2012 Reflections

 Today is New Year's eve and like last year I am spending the day reflecting on the past 12 months. Later tonight I will honor Frau Holle and see the old year out while welcoming the new in, but I find that the best way to let go of the past year is to really look at what it has taught me. Often it seems that there is an underlying theme to each year; in 2011 it was loss and endings. Fittingly 2012 seems to have been about both beginnings and limitations.
   I am not a patient person - once I set my mind to something I tend to put all of my energy into it and I want to see results. This has usually been a good quality, but this past year I found myself repeatedly being in situations were I was forced to go slowly or which took longer than I wanted. This has, overall, been a good thing as I have learned to take life slower and enjoy the experience more while anticipating the end result less. Learning to see limitations in a positive light has definitely been a good thing and I think I am less concerned about other people judging me by what I do or produce, and more concerned with making the most of what I can do.
  This year has also brought several great opportunities related to my writing. I have been putting more energy into this blog, and have also started blogging for a local ecumenical website, as well as being offered an opportunity to blog once a month for another site. I wrote several books this year, from my own poetry book to a children's book on the Fairy Faith, and have a book on Druidism coming out within the next few months through Moon books. I'm definitely proud of all these accomplishments, and I feel that writing has helped me focus myself as well as sharing different views and information with others.
   Spiritually this year's challenges have helped me better understand my own views and faith. Whereas in 2011 I felt rather adrift and lost spiritually I think that has been resolved this year, although it took me being willing to go back to the very beginning of my spiritual path and really take a hard look at not only what I believe and why, but what is the most spiritually fulfilling for me. I had drifted into a place where I was letting other people's expectations and needs direct where I was going rather than following what made me happy. That was a mistake, and while it took some serious misery in 2011 to make me see that, in 2012 I have channeled that in a positive way. It isn't just that I accept my own liminality now, but also that I embraced it.
    I went out yesterday, after my area was gifted with 8 inches of snow from Winter Storm Freyr, and looked up to see a rainbow shining directly above me house. I feel that this can only be a good omen for the year to come and I am excited to see what 2013 will bring.
   What has been the theme for your year? Are you ready to move forward into a new year?

In Memorial ~ Christine Winkler

 On Sunday, December 23rd, one of the strongest, most intense, women I have ever known passed from this world to the next after a hard fight against cancer. In the past four years she had fought and beat cancer four times, but this fifth round proved insurmountable. My life will forever be poorer without her in it, and I miss her very much already.
   I met Christine, affectionately nicknamed "Herb Lady", about 7 years ago through my friend's store. There is no one else quite like her, with her ascerbic opinions and take-no-prisoners attitude. At first I couldn't tell if she liked me or hated me but over time I learned that being blunt was her approach to everything; if she liked something she said as much and if she didn't like it then she made that clear. You never questioned where you stood with Christine or wondered if she was being honest with you. Over time it became an endearing quality and I learned to appreciate her unique approach to life.
   Christine, who was an excellent herbalist, taught me to identify plants, especially herbs, that grew wild in Connecticut. Because of her I know Woody Nightshade when I see it, and can identify Mullein and Mugwort. She also taught me ways to use the things I found, especially for healing and magic. At random intervals she would appear with her arms full of Wormwood, Mugwort or Sage from her garden and talk to me about how to dry and use them. Every year she would bring me homemade smudge sticks, sometimes plain Sage, other times Sage mixed with Rosemary or Lavender, insisting that the plants from her garden were better and  stronger than any sold commercially. Several times she brought me cuttings to try to root out - Black Nightshade, Wormwood, Mugwort - and would hover over me as I tried to properly wrap the cut stems in wet paper towel. Sometimes I could get them to grow for me, and sometimes I couldn't, but she never stopped helping me try.
     Christine was a witch and Hecate-woman. Her recitation of the Witches Rune would raise the hair on the back of your neck and she knew her spellwork like few other people I've ever met. Although I did not always agree with her I had an immense respect for her and learned a great deal about the practical, hands-on, magic she practiced. She could make incense, powder, and spell candles like no one else, and she taught me how to use these things in new ways. Because of Christine I began to think out what I was doing more and make my own ingredients and components, instead of flying by the seat of my extemporaneous pants all the time. In 2006 Christine, who followed a blend of modern Wicca and her own family style witchcraft, asked me if I wanted to be initiated as a priestess of Hecate; this was an enormous compliment from her, as she might occasionally offer to initiate someone she had taught into witchcraft but rarely acknowledged that a person was already a witch; deeply honored I said yes. Although I have no other connection to that pantheon and my own focus is firmly elsewhere, I have never regretted that decision and it led me, eventually, to co-creating a Witchcraft Tradition at Hecate's direction. The ceremony itself was deeply moving and, like Christine herself, not quite like anything else I'd ever experienced.
    Christine made jewelry and spell candles, among other things that were sold at the store. She also often made special things just for me, bracelets and necklaces of stone beads, a ring, and a spell candle dedicated to Macha which she later gave me the recipe for. These tangible reminders of her will be cherished now, as I cherish the memory of every conversation and every kind thing she ever did for me.
    No one else I've ever met had the same inherent concern for helpless or outcast things. When she found a cat, dying from an infected wound, she took him to the vet, even though he was half wild and she had no money to spare on a stray. When she was out of work she began caring for two elderly sisters who needed someone to check on them and handle able bodied tasks around their home. When her ex husband became sick and needed somewhere to stay she took him in, caring for him in his own final days. And she took my friend and I under her wing with a tough love mothering that was impossible to resist.
    In many ways Christine was more like family than a friend. When I had a cold she would pull out a mix she called "nose oil", splash some on a tissue, and make me hold it under my nose - and it never failed to clear my sinuses out and let me breathe no matter how stuffed up my nose was. When I sprained my wrist in an accident she appeared with a quart-sized freezer bag full of powdered Comfrey and not only explained how to make a compress out of it, but insisted I do so immediately and wasn't satisfied until I had my wrist slathered and wrapped to her specifications. Every Sunday that I was at the store she would bring me the newspaper and, usually, something to eat, and we would chat about life and magic. Every year she sent my children cards on Halloween and made them gifts for Yule. For many years now we traded witchy-themed novels back and forth, discussing the plots the way some people talk about popular TV shows. Sometimes we chatted about sewing and where to get the best prices on material; Christine was a talented seamstress who sowed some of her own clothes and made everything from dolls to small bags to use for charms. She talked about her past, her husband, her children, as I shared stories about mine. The night her ex-husband died after his own fight against cancer she called me and told me that she felt that Hecate had come and helped him cross, at the end.
    I and another close friend went and visited her a few days before she passed. She was in pain and on a constant morphine pump, but she was happy to see us. She held my hand and wouldn't let go and tried several times to say something, but we couldn't understand what she was trying to say. We sat with her, watching Dark Shadows on a laptop because it was one of her favorite shows. Several times she dozed off, but we stayed until she woke again. She asked a couple times if I was there, and I reassured her I was, all the time holding her hand. Despite it all when she did speak she retained her unique sense of humor and was obviously still herself; I was glad for that. When we finally  left I knew it wouldn't be much longer, but the news of her passing was still a shock in a very visceral way. I can't imagine life without her there offering advice, lending me witchy novels, and showing me the herbs that grow all around us.
  She was a teacher, a mentor, and above all a friend, and I am a better person for having known her.
   May Hecate hold her; may the Goddess's torches light her way.

Yule 2012

Happy Yule and a merry solstice to all!





  
    Yule is always one of the busiest times of year for me; as I mentioned last year I have usually approached Yule form a strictly Germanic/Norse perspective but have recently started trying to incorporate more Irish and Druidic aspects. Since the heathen Yule celebration lasts for 12 nights its been hard to work in anything else - which is complicated by the very limited Irish folklore and practices. This year I am going to attempt to juggle four different types of celebration.
   Last night I helped run an open neopagan Yule ritual. We gathered and focused on sending loving energy to any who are suffering, to help heal those who need healing after the tragedies of the last week. We also wove bracelets for ourselves while focusing on goals we want to nurture in the coming months as the light of the sun grows. And of course we lit candles on a Yule log in honor of the solstice.
  Because last night was also Mother's Night in Heathenry my family and I also lit candles for the disir and our female ancestors. We held a small blot to Frigga, offering milk and water to her. We do this in thanks for their protection and also to ask for blessings in the new year. I drew a rune for divination and pulled Othala, which I believe is a good sign of connection to the ancestors, in this context.
  Today, on the actual solstice, I will honor Grian, in a Druidic ritual. My family will light our Yule log at home, and we will hold our annual holiday movie night, which the children are very excited about. The solstice itself tends to be very family oriented for me, which is a nice break in the otherwise hectic schedule of the holiday. For the ritual to honor Grian we will bake a sun cake, as we do for Aine at midsummer, and offer pieces of it to her and to our ancestors and the daoine sidhe. We will also offer her sugar cookies and spiced cider.
     It's my Kindred's 6th anniversary this year so we are planning to hold a Yule blot on the 23rd. this is always a very festive meeting with lots of food and good converstaion after a blot to honor Odin as the Julfather. Each year we choose different Aesir to focus on ; last year it was Freyr, and the year before it was Odin and Frigga together. After the blot we each pull a rune to see what our omen for the year to come is, and I pull one for the Kindred as a whole. My Kindred sister, Mel, is an exceptional cook, so feasting is always something to look forward to, and its fun to watch the kids play and enjoy the celebration.
    In our home this year Santa is arriving on the 23rd as well, with present opening occurring very early in the morning, so on the evening of the 22nd we will be honoring the Julenisse (with porridge). We decided it was important for the kids to have the joy of waking up to presents under the Yule tree and find the idea of Santa very pagan, but we can be a bit flexible on when he comes, looking at a day close to the solstice that we will all be home together. I know that some people who have Odin, as Julfather, come with gifts riding Sleipnir, but by the time I heard of that idea my oldest was already invested in Santa, so we have stuck with what she initially grew up with.
   After this, leading up to New Year's eve, I will also blot to Frau Holle, Freyr, and Thor, as well as make offerings to my ancestors and the land spirits. And of course I will celebrate a secular Christmas with my extended family on the 25th. On New Year's eve, the official end of the 12 days of Yule celebration, I smudge the entire house with juniper, and at exactly midnight I open the front door to let the old year out and welcome the new year in. I also leave out a small loaf of bread, asking for abunadance and prosperity in the year to come. It will be a hectic couple of weeks, but it is always filled with fun and good food.
    I hope your Yule is just as much fun, and wish you all a good New Year.