Spirit of place in the home

my monthly blog for Moon books is up http://moon-books.net/blogs/moonbooks/spirits-of-place-in-the-home/ looking at how we connect to spirits of place and why I think we should start at home

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.

Why I am a Syncretic Gaelic-Heathen Pagan

Patheos has been doing a blog challenge, asking people to answer the question of why they follow the path they follow in 200 words. This is my answer:
   I am a syncretic Gaelic-Heathen pagan because I have seen the Irish and Norse Gods calling to me in my dreams. I have heard the music of the Otherworld dancing on the wind. I have felt the pulse of my ancestors beating underneath my skin. And these things speak to my soul with poetry and mystery in ways that nothing else ever has and that I cannot live without. They are part of who I am.
 The mythology and folk beliefs of those two cultures resonate with me on an instinctive level. They form a holistic whole for my spiritual beliefs which is both comforting and challenging. The Gods, The rituals, the cosmology, the prayers, the magic, all of these are necessary and I cannot choose one culture over the other without losing part of myself in the choosing. In my heart, the two together make sense in ways nothing else does
   That is the core of my religion; reconstructionism shapes it, mysticism and magic create connection with it. It is experiential. It is immanent. It is fluid. Call me a witch, Druid, or seidhrkona - I am all these things - but underneath it all the core remains the same.

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.

How We See the Gods

   One of the most basic aspects of paganism may be how we see the Gods. Our Gods, after all, have a concreteness to them that lends itself to imagery. We have myth, folklore, and ancient pagan artwork to pull from as we seek to imagine what our gods look like. We also have modern popular views, such as the many modern Heathens who describe Thor as red-haired. As a Reconstructionist these sources are invaluable, yet they can also be a double edged sword. For myself at least, when I envision my Gods I inevitably think of all these sources in an effort to come up with a correct image. It may produce an accurate result, but it also complicates inspiration and emotion.
   I am trying to take a lesson from my children now. There is a purity to the way that children approach the Gods that adults lose somewhere along the way. My oldest daughter, very unapologetically, has favorite Gods and they show up in her artwork from time to time. I have a drawing that she did when she was 7 of Freya; it shows the Goddess as my daughter imagines her. This is Freya from the heart, without any worry of accuracy or careful details from the lore. Its Freya as my daughter sees her without the filter we adults use for everything. There is a beautiful purity to that, even if most other people wouldn't recognize the Goddess.

Amara's drawing, circa 2011

  Its important to look to the body of myth and belief when we relate to deity, but it is just as important to listen to our hearts. I know that I tend to let my head complicate everything which is why I am trying to find a more balanced approach. Instead of rejecting the little things that pop up in my head - Odin with a hip flask, Freya with a butterfly tattoo - I'm going to try embracing them. I'm going to let my inner voice have its say and see what it comes up with. I may even grab some crayons and have a bit of fun with this. Even if the results are images that have no meaning to anyone but me, I am going to let my inner child have its say. It is so easy to ignore our inner voice when we feel like there is a right and wrong to what we are doing, but that inner voice can add a richness that is lacking in cold hard facts.  

  When you picture your Gods, how do you see them?