Samhain isn't pronounced Sam-hane and other truths

    I should probably have titled this post "Grumpy Old Polytheist Ramblings". But there's a lot of so-called educational memes floating around the community right now that are a lot more opinion than fact and I finally decided that it was time to address some specific points. With facts.
    Samhain is pronounced "Sow-win" or "Sow-wen" in Irish and Samhuinn is pronounced "Sah-vihn" in Scottish Gaidhlig; there are of course minor variations with different dialects but in no Celtic language is it pronounced "Sam-hane". As far as I can tell pronouncing it that way comes from non-Irish speakers reading the word and applying English phonetic pronunciation rules to it. But lets be honest here - that doesn't make the mispronounced version correct. That's like me pronouncing "America" Uhm-ehr-ee-suh" and saying that's a legit pronunciation that should be accepted because that's how I read it phonetically. Or for that matter like me saying p-hon-eht-ih-cullee is an okay way to say phonetically. At this point there are enough resources and online pronunciation guides that there's no reason for people not to get Samhain correct. I mean seriously people everyone insists on using the Old Irish spelling for Lughnasadh but people manage to say it Loo-nah-sah just fine, so lets stop acting like mispronouncing Samhain is an okay thing to do.
   And no, there is absolutely no Samhain God of the Dead, or Sam Hane God of the Dead either.
   And, for the record, there is no ancient Celtic tree zodiac (or animal zodiac either), and the whole "Tree Calendar" thing was made up in 1948 by Robert Graves - the Druids never used it and wouldn't have had any clue what it was if you could somehow time travel back a couple thousand years and ask them about it. The Tree Ogham is a real thing but it had nothing to do with dates or months, just with associations between Ogham letters and specific trees; there's also a Bird Ogham where each letter is associated with a bird, and Pig Ogham, and so on. I guess Graves didn't think the Pig Ogham was romantic enough to base a calendar system on...
    Speaking of hard truths - let me burst another bubble for everyone. There is no Celtic pantheon. Really it's true. When you see those lists of deities labeled "Celtic pantheon" in all those books its really just a random list of deities from the different Celtic cultures hodge-podged together. But here's the problem inherent in that - a pantheon by definition is the gods of a specific religion or people, and there was *never* a single over-arching Celtic religion or people. Celtic has always been a term of convenience for describing similar groups based on shared cultural themes, art, and related languages. The mythology, even for the so-called Pan-Celtic deities like Lugh/Llew/ Lugus who are found across the different Celtic culture is different. The Morrigan was a major deity in Ireland but there isn't any evidence of her in Gaul; we find Cernunnos in Gaul but not elsewhere. Even within a single culture their were regional Gods who might be known in this location but not over in this other location. The reason that matters is that in a pantheon you should be able to find stories of the Gods interacting with each other, or at least appearing together, there should be a cohesion of belief and cultus that only occurs in groups of deities that have a genuine unifying factor. You might be able to argue for an Irish Pantheon or a Gaulish Pantheon, but understand that Celtic as such is pretty meaningless for religious purposes.
   Also, although we may not like to admit it, yes the ancient Celtic cultures - and pretty much all ancient cultures - practiced human sacrifice. This isn't some kind of nasty propaganda, its just a fact. When we're going around trying to act like that sort of thing never happened because it goes against our modern mores it just makes us look kind of silly.
   And since I'm on a roll, the Good Folk are not elementals and not all of them are nature spirits. That whole twee little garden sprite thing is a very Victorian idea. They aren't angels, and they also aren't our special spirit guide friends. Some of them may care about humanity at large but a great many them don't. Sometimes they help us, but sometimes they harm us and we can't just decide they are all sweet and gentle and make it be so.
   One final note, on the subject of hard truths - there is a difference between an opinion and a fact. An opinion is how you feel about something. In my opinion dark chocolate is better than milk chocolate. A fact is an objective reality. Chocolate is made from cacao beans. The first example is my opinion, other people may disagree or have different opinions and that's fine; the second example is a fact and is not open to someone else's disagreement. In other words you might think milk chocolate is better than dark, and that's your opinion which is fine, but you can't just decide that chocolate is actually made from coffee beans because that simply isn't true. In spirituality some things are opinion, and some things are facts. Its really important to know the difference between the two.
"Everyone is entitled to his own opinion, but not his own facts." - Daniel Patrick Moynihan

Reflecting Darkness

So Friday is my birthday. I've been thinking a lot about that, and about something that was posted in a group today about the variety of witches out there:

internet meme; anonymous

     There are many, many approaches to witchcraft and some are completely different from others, but it is true that the vast majority of witches in the Western world seem to follow what is generally termed a "right hand path" or benevolent witchcraft. This approach usually adheres to the things mentioned above: a belief in a Westernized understanding of karma, following the Wiccan Rede, and belief in the Rule of Three. Because this is the most popular approach it can sometimes be seen in groups as the only acceptable approach, particularly with an emphasis on witchcraft that focuses on healing, blessing, protection, and a strong ethic of not causing harm.
However....
I'm a witch.* I have been a witch now for more than 24 years.
   I don't believe in karma*, in the sense that what we do comes back to us in a reward/punishment system, or that being good makes good things happen. I do think that being a good person, however you define that, has value and should be strived for. But I don't think there is some universal power which metes out punishment or reward based on an arbitrary system of good or bad actions.
   I don't follow the Wiccan Rede, because I am not Wiccan, firstly, and secondly because I believe that sometimes "harm" is good and necessary. Sometimes a small harm now prevents a greater harm later, or is being done for a larger purpose, such as the "harm" done to my daughter when she had her cardiac procedure in order to correct a dangerous irregular heartbeat. Sometimes its being done to protect something, like when I have to kill a hive of wasps that is above my garage (my husband is severely allergic). Sometimes its simply a matter of deciding that the action is necessary, and taking it.
    I don't believe in the rule of three, in any sense. I do believe that our mindset, be it positive or negative, effects our life, and that how we treat other people directly effects how other people, in a very general sense, treat us (ie if you are nice to people they are usually nice to you, if you are jerk they are generally a jerk in return). But life experience has shown me that bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people all the time. And that's not even getting into the stickety-wicket of who decides what is "good" and "bad" to begin with....
   I have hexed. I have done bindings and banishings. I deal with spirits, both on friendly terms and commanding them (usually to leave a place). I am very pragmatic in my magic; I do what needs doing. And there has never been any terrible consequence to me from anything I have done (although I will add here that I am very careful and I know what I am doing). The greatest consequence I have faced is the judgment and censure from some people within the pagan community for being open about the sort of witch that I am. 

   I think, sometimes, that paganism has spent so many decades trying to convince the rest of the world that we are all harmless and safe that anytime someone comes along and says, "No if it needs doing I'll do it, even if its sad or unpleasant or hard" there is an automatic response of immediately rejecting that idea. We don't want to own the dark witch anymore, or we want to make it a clear cut matter of "good/light" and "bad/dark". We have bought into our own PR and we want our witchcraft safe and nice and palatable for the masses of non-pagans. We don't want the dark and scary as a serious practice, only as a sort of juvenile "phase" that we say people will grow out of or as a side-show all-flash-no-substance joke. Its not easy to break out of that mindset, as a community. Heck it was hard for me. Everyone wants to be the hero in the story, not the pragmatist.

   There are all sorts of witches in the world and that's exactly as it should be. We need the variety. Some are very gentle. Some are very loving. Some are very peaceful. Some are all of that but if their back is against a wall they will defend themselves.
   I am not that sort.
    I was told once, in a visionary experience, that I needed to own the idea of being a badb, a bantúaithech, for lack of a better translation an "old school witch". Someone who isn't afraid of doing what needs doing. Who can heal or hex without hesitation. Who isn't afraid to go where other people truly do fear to tread. Who owns their own darkness and understands the balance that is needed between dark and light to preserve Firinne (truth/right order). The word badb itself when applied to a human means a witch of the dark and dangerous sort, the kind who shows up and gives an ill prophecy and then works magic to ensure it happens. A cursing-witch. The word bantúaithech* is related to the word túaithe and has strong negative connotations, being related to túaithbel meaning lefthand-wise, against the sun, to cursing, of working against the positive, and is also related through túath to the aos sidhe who witches were reputed to deal with and get much of their skill and knowledge from. So a badb or bantúaithech is a witch who works against the sun and who deals with the fairy folk, who curses and prophesies.
This was not a message I wanted to hear, nor one I was quick to embrace.
    I really didn't want to be that person.
    Because there is a comfort in acceptance. There is a comfort in staying weak, and avoiding confrontation, and letting other people handle the messy work. There is a comfort in being able to say "I am harmless and good and only ever help everyone".
     But you can't fight dán and a raven can't be a robin no matter how much it wishes it was.
So I have spent a lot of time learning to be a bantuaithech, an old school witch, and learning that you can still be kind and gentle even when you are the one who knows how to hex and does it when it needs doing. Learning that you can still be nice even when you are the one who isn't afraid to walk straight into the darkness and handle what you find there, and you are the one who does the things that generally seem to horrify so many other people. I had to learn that all those frightening connotations with the words badb and bantúaithech nonetheless represent the preservation of right-order, of fírinne - the dark witch doesn't curse for fun or maliciousness but in the myths and stories she does so to bring back order when there is a great imbalance. She uses her own power to correct imbalances, often by bringing down important people - often kings or heroes -  who have abused their power or greatly transgressed the social order. She is not a bad person but she is the one who must do the dirty work in the stories in order to bring back balance. I had to learn not to fear using power when it needed to be used, especially in situations where those who were otherwise powerless needed to have someone act for them. I learned, ultimately that sometimes the only way to preserve right-order is to go against it for a time.
    I am that sort of witch, but it doesn't make me a bad person - if anything it has made me a better person because I understand the fear, and anger, and hatred that far too often drive other people.I embrace the darkness because I don't see it as frightening or dangerous, just as beautiful and empowering. I can empathize with suffering and being broken because I have been there. I appreciate the importance of being good and kind because I am so aware of the reality of the other side of that. I am kind not because I fear the consequences of not being kind - I don't - but because I know the value of kindness for its own sake. 

......but like Al Capone said: "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness. I am kind to everyone, but when someone is unkind to me, weak is not what you are going to remember about me."

*I've discussed in previous blogs that I am both a witch and a Druid. I see the first as a personal practice, a skill, and the second as a role within the community. In my life they provide balance and dovetail nicely with each other, and both work within my Irish Reconstructionist Polytheism.
* okay that's a bit of hyperbole on my part, but its complicated. I've blogged about it previously here
* - I am editing this to clarify a point: the word bantúaithech is Old Irish and is the word used in the myths to describe female magic users, generally translated as "witch". Be Chullie and Dianann are referred to this way in the Cath Maige Tuired when Lugh asks what power they will bring to the fight (they promise to enchant the trees and stones and earth to appear as a great army by the way), and a further list of ten women of the Tuatha De Danann is given and described this way in the Banshenchus. The word, however, did not survive into modern Irish. There is a similar term, tuathánach, which means rustic or country dweller and tuathbheartach means evil-doing. Interestingly túathgeinte, meaning the Good Folk did survive as tuathghinte in modern Irish. Similarly badb, meaning a witch, is Old or middle Irish; in modern Irish babdbh when applied to a human means a scold and only has vague connotations of cursing. 

excerpt from my current work in progress

I'm a bit behind on blogging and translations because I'm in the middle of a new book draft for Pagan Portals: Brigid. The idea of doing more goddess-themed Pagan Portals was suggested by someone on my facebook author page and my publisher really liked it, and asked if I'd be interested in writing about Brigid. I'm about 14,000 words into the 25,000 word draft and its about all I've had time to work on, excluding real life child care (the never ending work-in-progress). So today I thought it would be fun to share a small excerpt from the new book in progress. Although the main focus of the book is specifically on the pagan Goddess Brighid it's inevitable that saint Brigid will have to be discussed too....

Brigid – Goddess and Saint

Our modern understanding of Brigid is largely the result of a blending of the features of the pagan Goddess and Catholic saint (Clark, 1991). There is a sharp divide among scholars on the subject with some like Kim McCone stating that saint Brigid, particularly in her later stories, shows a clear separation from the pagan Brigid, while others like Marie-Louise Sjoestedt say that the saint is an accurate preservation of the Goddess. This makes it difficult and at times almost impossible to untangle one from the other, particularly from material that dates to the transition period when Ireland was still nominally pagan and not yet entirely Christian. We can see this for example in the proliferation of both mythic figures and saints named Brigid as well as the characteristics of the early saint Brigid which clearly reflected earlier mythic patterns, such as providing food and drink to those in need (McCone, 2000). In the Lebor Gabala Erenn we are told that the Dagda is Brigid’s father and that he also had a son named Aed; interestingly saint Brigid also was associated with a person named Aed, in this case a fellow saint. Saint Aed was said to have founded a monastery with buildings dedicated to saint Brigid and saint Brigid was said to have invoked the name of saint Aed to miraculously cure a headache (McCone, 2000).  Those seeking to connect to the Goddess today will have to decide for themselves what they feel genuinely reflects older pagan beliefs and what may have evolved in the later Christian period.

   Saint Brigid was reputed to be the best brewer in Ireland, and her association with beer, ale, and brewing were shared by her counterparts the Welsh Saint Ffraid and the Scottish saint Bride. This particular association may reflect and older pagan belief connected to Brigid of Smithcraft, as it was not uncommon for smith deities to also be Gods of brewing. The Irish smith God Goibniu, for example was associated with brewing as well as smithing. Goibniu had a special mead or ale called the fled Goibnenn, “drink of Goibniu”, that conveyed the gift of youth and immortality to the Tuatha De Danann (O hOgain, 2006). Similarly the Welsh Gofannon was a brewer as well as smith and the Gaulish Secullos, the “Good striker”, although not known explicitly as a smith God was depicted with a hammer and associated with wine.

    Saint Brigid is most strongly associated with Kildare where her church stands near her sacred healing well; the church itself features a perpetual flame tended by Brigadine nuns. Although the perpetual flame cannot be traced with certainty back to the Irish pagan period Brigid’s British counterpart Brigantia had a temple under the guise of Brigantia-Minerva which also featured a perpetual flame (Puhvel, 1987). The Irish saint Brigid and the Scottish saint Bride are believed to be both the midwife and foster-mother of Jesus Christ and both are very strongly connected to childbirth, potentially reflecting older mother Goddess concepts.

Witches, Mná Feasa, and Fairy Doctors, oh my!

A peer reviewed version of this article can be found in the 2014 Lughnasa/Samhain issue of Air n-Aithesc here

Waterhouse, The Mystic Wood, 1917

   In modern American terms we tend to call anyone who works with low magic or folk magic a witch, however from an Irish perspective such people actually fell into roughly three groups: witches called caillí (singular cailleach) in Irish, fairy doctors, and mná feasa (singular ban feasa). It is important to note up front that all three of these terms can be and sometimes are used interchangeably, and a single person, such as Biddy Early may be given all three labels by different people. To give an example, ban feasa means wise woman, but so does cailleach feasa, and both might be called a fairy doctor or a witch in English, depending on context and what they are doing. It's also important to understand that the Irish view of witches is not the same as the more commonly held traditional one; Irish witches were feared because they might steal milk from the family cows or ill-wish people, but they did not have the deeply sinister reputation found elsewhere.
    The final chapter of Kevin Danaher's book Irish Customs and Beliefs begins with an anecdote from the author's youth. He tells of an experience he had upon meeting an old woman named Nellie in Clare, who, he discovers later, is known through the area for her herbal cures and propensity to curse anyone who offended her. He ends the passage by saying:
"On the way home that day I couldn't help thinking that the old lady was very like the witch in the story books; the black cat in the hearth and the heather besom behind the door were just what a witch should have, and when I heard of her cures and curses my suspicion grew. But I soon found out that the classic figure of the witch cleaving the night air on a broomstick with her cat perched on the pillion was not recognized in local tradition. Old Nellie might be a bean feasa, skilled in cures and in divination, or even an old cailleach who stole the cows milk disguised as a hare, but not a witch." (Danaher, 1964, pages 121-122).
    This passage demonstrates a key difference between the Irish view of witches and the commonly understood one, which is based on continental views. While stories from continental and even British folklore depict witches flying through the air, gathering at meetings with the Devil and using their powers to curse and torment their neighbors by withering crops, causing illness, and killing, the figure of the Irish witch is very different. Although still seen as negative and working against the community the Irish witch in folklore is often less severe and less destructive. Most commonly Irish witches are described stealing milk while in the form of a hare or otherwise working magic on the cattle (O hOgain, 1995). These Irish witches may be referred to as “butter witches” to differentiate them from the more sinister continental ones (O Crualaoich, 2003). The more sinister view of witches seems to have been imported from Europe at a later time and never took the strong hold on the country that it did elsewhere, notably in Scotland (Danaher, 1964). Instead of the idea of truly evil witches we see stories of the cailleach, usually an old woman, intent on stealing milk from the cows and disrupting a family's luck.
    Ireland had very few witch trials over the centuries and these were usually within settlements of those of non-Irish descent (Danaher, 1964). The last witch trial on record in Ireland occurred in Carrickfergus in 1711 and resulted in a conviction and a sentence of the pillory and a year in prison (Danaher, 1964). This seems to reflect the different attitude with which the Irish approached the subject, compared to the far more rabid witch-hunting that went on in Europe. Perhaps because the beliefs about witches were not as severe or perhaps because the belief in the supernatural and use of magic in folklore was so strong even after Christianization, the Irish witch never created the hysteria in Ireland that was the hallmark of Europe during this period. 

   What is particularly worth noting though is the connection between Irish and Scottish witches and fairies, something that is shared with bean feasa and fairy doctors. While the latter two use the knowledge they gain from the Other Crowd to heal or cure magical afflictions, the witch uses her fairy-given knowledge to harm. The witch knows how to use elfshot, and does so in ways that - according to the Scottish witch trial records anyway, which we must look to given the scarcity of Irish witch trials - seem to have been an attempt to use supernatural power where social power was lacking. Often in these trial records we see witches confessing to making deals with or consorting with fairies, going to fairies for knowledge, and going to them to obtain elfshot (Hall, 2005). In the Irish we see witches, like fairies, taking the form of hares in order to steal milk from the cows and this may indicate another connection between the two (O hOgain, 1995). 

   The terms bean feasa and fairy doctor are often used interchangeably and indeed there is at best a fine difference between the two. It is highly likely that the two terms, one in Irish one in English, originally were applied to a singular type of practitioner; however in the modern source material we do see a nuanced difference between how the two terms are used. The bean feasa is often called to find lost objects and discern through divination the cause and cure of ailments, from illness to butter failing to churn (O Crualaoich, 2005). The fairy doctor, on the other hand, is called when fairy involvement is known or suspected, especially relating to afflictions caused by them, or when witchcraft is suspected, in order to discern the best cure (Wilde, 1991). The ban feasa was said to never teach her magic to others or preform her charms in front of people, while the fairy doctor could teach others, particularly passing her knowledge on to her child (Wilde, 1991; Locke, 2013). One might argue that the bean feasa is more of a general practitioner while the fairy doctor is a specialist, but both derive knowledge and power from their relationship with the Other Crowd. 

   Bean feasa means wise woman but it has connotations of someone who deals with the Other Crowd (fairies), specifically someone who gains their knowledge from the Gentry and is often away with them. It was believed that a bean feasa gained her power after being taken by the Fair Folk or spending time with them; that they taught her occult knowledge and continued to provide her with information and help (O Cualaoich, 2005). Often such a woman might appear to have knowledge of events occurring at a distance or the location of items, and such knowledge was said to be given to them by the fairies (O Cualaoich, 2003). The bean feasa helped the community with herbal remedies, divination, and advice especially relating to the fairies. Bean feasa were almost always older women, unmarried, who were known to travel (O Crualaoich, 2005). Biddy Early was a notable exception to this being often married and stationary; such was her reputation for curing that people came from all over to see her (Magic and Religious Cures, 2014). Herbal cures are employed by the bean feasa, but generally are used for their magical, more than their medicinal, properties (O Craulaoich, 2005). This can be seen in stories which describe the special way or place the herb must be gathered or include geasa around their use. These geis may include no one watching as they are prepared or given, the herb being brought to the person in total silence, or not looking backwards (O Craulaoich, 2005). Although known for clairvoyance and getting knowledge from the Gentry, the bean feasa were also known to use a form of divination involving dishes, sieves, or bowls, where they would shift or move around a selection of these items and then divine based on how the objects settle (O Crualaoich, 2003). 

   Lady Wilde describes fairy doctors thus: "The fairy doctors are generally females. Old women, especially, are considered to have peculiar mystic and supernatural power. They cure chiefly by charms and incantations, transmitted by tradition through many generations; and by herbs, of which they have a surprising knowledge." (Wilde, 1991). Whereas witches were thought to gain their powers from alliances with spirits and their own will, fairy doctors got theirs from the Good People (Yeats, 1888). Fairy doctors were more specific in what they did than the bean feasa, focusing on things that seemed to have a supernatural cause, and would be called in to discern if that cause was malignant witchcraft or fairies. The fairy doctor was most known for being able to recognize the ill effects of elfshot, the fairy wind, and the evil eye, all of which she could diagnose and then treat with charms or incantations, and less often herbal remedies (Wilde, 1991). Fairy doctors were also thought to be able to have the spirit sight and so could deal with the Fair Folk and see, for example, if a home had been built on a fairy road or near a fairy door.  It was believed that a person, usually but not always a woman, became a fairy doctor after either being away with the fairies or after suffering an illness that brought her near death and so closer to the spirit world (Locke, 2013). This closeness to the fairies granted the fairy doctor a special knowledge of magical afflictions and of herbal cures, and in some cases may have granted some type of psychic power. The fairy doctor used herbs, crystals, chants, charms, and special healing stones to work their cures (Locke, 2013). 

  It is said in many sources that the bean feasa and fairy doctors both would take no money for their charms or spells, but would accept gifts afterwards; money could be taken though for herbal cures (Wilde, 1991). Fairy doctors were known to be paid in barter, especially food and drink (Locke, 2013). It should be kept in mind though that the gifting after a cure was a requirement more than a suggestion; Biddy Early was said to make enough in her curing work that none of her husbands had to work.
   So what we see is a complex belief system that - much like the Fairy Faith's own approach to viewing the Good People - encompasses a selection of titles given to a certain type of magical practitioner whose application varied by circumstance and perspective. One person's cailleach may be another's bean feasa, and a third might describe that person as a fairy doctor - as we see with Biddy Early who bears all three titles. A close look at each shows distinct differences and specific practices and skills that define each one, however in modern pagan practice it is difficult to clearly delineate between the ban feasa and fairy doctor, if the terms are even known, and both might be lumped under the wider term of witchcraft. I believe though that it would do us well to try to return to the more nuanced meanings and get away from a dependence on the more common but less specific term of "witch" for those who do fit the general descriptions of bean feasa or fairy doctor. Certainly both are still here, and as more attention is brought to the old fairy beliefs and practices both the bean feasa and fairy doctor can find a place in the modern world.


References:

Hall, A., (2005) Getting Shot of Elves: Healing, Witchcraft and Fairies in the Scottish Witchcraft Trials. Folklore Vol. 116, No. 1 (Apr., 2005)
O Crualaoich, G., (2005) Reading the Bean Feasa. Folklore Vol. 116, No. 1 (Apr., 2005)
O Crualaoich, G., (2003) The Book of The Cailleach
Magic and Religious Cures (2014). Ask About Ireland. Retrieved from http://www.askaboutireland.ie/reading-room/history-heritage/folklore-of-ireland/folklore-in-ireland/healers-and-healing/magic-and-religious-cures/
Danaher, K., (1964). Irish Customs and Beliefs
Wilde, L., (1991). Irish Cures and Mystic Superstitions
O hOgain, D., (1995). Irish Superstitions

Yeats, W (1888). Fairy and Folktales of the Irish Peasantry 
Locke, T., (2013). The Fairy Doctor. Retrieved from http://www.irishabroad.com/blogs/PostView.aspx?pid=4404

Personal Boundaries, Sovereignty, and Consent Culture

  I was recently reminded of an older blog post by John Beckett about boundaries and it got me thinking. We all have personal boundaries, of course, but I think too often in interacting with others there is a default assumption that others share either our personal boundaries or else wider cultural boundaries. To me, when we talk about personal boundaries I immediately think about consent culture and the idea of personal sovereignty.
     Whether we like to admit it or not we live in a society that assumes our bodies are not really our own, especially if you are female*. From a young age most of us are taught to hug people whether we want to or not, because it's "polite". Children learn quickly that it doesn't matter whether they want to or not, its expected. Of course some people enjoy this contact and do it by choice, but there is also an underlying assumption that it is a social norm. Women constantly fight against the ideas that being female means owing physical contact to other people usually expressed as intimacy. The whole concept of the "friend zone" exemplifies this because it carries the implicit belief that if someone likes a woman and tries to court her she is somehow being unfair or manipulative to deny that person an emotional or physical response they want. Many pregnant women experience having their belly touched by strangers, without their permission, as if being pregnant in itself ceded such consent away. I have had my hair, tattoos, and (yes, really) breasts touched in public by strangers who believed they had a right to touch me without my permission. In the pagan community there is also often an assumption that physical touch is wanted or accepted so much so that I have sometimes seen people refer to hugging as the pagan handshake, as if it were the default greeting.
   Here's the problem. Not everyone wants to be touched, especially by strangers or people they don't know well. There are many reasons why someone may not want to be touched, but honestly it doesn't matter. The point is that not everyone welcomes casual touching or hugging. For some people there is a strong boundary that exists at the limit of their personal space which says please stay out, in the same way that another person might feel about strangers or acquaintances going through their purse or wallet without asking. To me part of  our right to control our own body and what happens to it includes being able to decide where that boundary of personal touch is.
    What baffles me here is the offense people take when someone who doesn't want to be touched expresses that. People who want to hug seem to believe people who don't want to hug are rejecting them on a personal level, when that is not (generally) the case at all. It isn't a judgment on the hugging individual as a person (again usually) so much as it is an expression of the non-hugging individuals personal comfort levels. I'll use myself as an example. I do not like being touched by most people, and being hugged by people I don't know or don't know very well and trust causes me anxiety. You'll note I said most, so right off I get criticized because I say I don't like being touched but then I do let some people touch me - as if it's only acceptable for me to have this boundary if I make it all or nothing, again removing my ability to choose who I am and am not comfortable being touched by. Most people don't ask, they simply hug, putting me in the extremely awkward position of either letting them violate my personal space in a way that I find upsetting or of ducking away which they find offensive. I usually brace myself and put up with it, because in my experience rejecting unwanted physical contact that is socially acceptable, is ironically not socially accepted. And for those of you reading this and thinking I'm exaggerating, the next time you go to a larger pagan event try to enforce a strict "no touching" rule. When I was at Pantheacon I even wore a ribbon, bright red, which said "No touchy!!" and it made no discernible difference, although several people did apologize after hugging me, then asking permission, and being told I would really prefer not to (and I appreciate the apology, even retrospectively).
 

  I have seen an online discussion about this subject in a pagan group where people argued that hugging shouldn't require consent and that non-huggers needed to conform. One person even went so far as to suggest forcibly hugging people who expressed a desire not to be touched, because they needed to get over it. I've also seen people who don't want to be touched called un-pagan, mean, and heard it said that if you don't like hugs you're missing out on some essential aspect of community building. In the same way that people who are very open to touching are judged negatively, so people who don't like to touch are judged.
   Not wanting to be touched has nothing to do with me judging you. It has everything to do with me needing to feel like I am controlling what is happening to my own body. This is where personal sovereignty comes in, because personal sovereignty, to me, is the idea that we as individuals are in control of what happens to our own bodies; you are the supreme authority of your own flesh. I decide what I am comfortable doing and not doing, and I decide who can and can't enter my personal space and what they can and can't do there. To put a twist on an old saying, however, my sovereignty ends where the next person's begins. Some people have permeable boundaries, and that's fine if that's what they are comfortable with. Some people have rigid boundaries and that should be fine too, if that is what they are comfortable with. The key here is that we each should have the ability to decide for ourselves what happens to our own bodies*.
   Another vital aspect of this, which could really solve many of the problems caused by the assumption that touching as social norms are okay, is the idea of consent culture. Simply put, ask first. If you want to hug someone, ask. And respect their answer, even if it's no. Don't take that no personally or assume anything about why the answer is no, because likely it isn't about you at all. Consent culture is rooted in respect and the idea that by asking first we are acknowledging the other person's sovereignty over their own body, just like we would their car or purse (I hope).
       Consent culture is not something we have right now, it's a work in progress, but it is something we can make a reality. In the same way personal sovereignty is something we each must work to understand and establish for ourselves, because no one can give us sovereignty it is something that we must learn to stand up for. I highly recommend JD Hobbes"The Hug as a Personal Greeting" for guidelines on good etiquette on touching other people at public events. And hopefully as we move forward we can learn to respect each other's limits, instead of judging those who have comfort-zones different from our own.
 


* cis-, trans-, or any other form of female identification are all considered female here
* you can pretty much guess from this view how I feel about most subjects relating to body-choices. I admit though that children are a grey area because they should be raised with a sense of personal sovereignty but also must, by necessity, fall under their parents decision making processes in many things. That's a topic for a blog on it's own however

Read All the Things!

  Those of you who enjoy my translation efforts, don't worry I have some interesting bits about Tech Duinn and Donn coming out tomorrow, but today I wanted to shift back a bit into a more discussion style blog.
    I've noticed a trend lately of people asking for opinions about books and getting some strangely territorial responses. What I mean by that is responses which seem to assume there is one - and only one - book worth getting on a particular subject. It can get very Highlander-esque ("There can be only one!") with people advocating for one book and putting down others like there was some sort of epic prize to be won.

my son with volume 1 of Air n-Aithesc a peer reviewed CR journal. He has good taste in reading material

   First of all, book recommendations will always be highly personal. The book one person loves another person may not be able to finish. So there is that, and we should never forget that a recommendation is really just an opinion about what someone liked. In some cases it isn't even about whether the book is good or bad, just whether it resonated with that person. My preferences tend to extremes - either dry and academic or highly engaging and experiential; some people may like one or the other but many people don't like either. Just like I like chocolate ice cream, but someone else might not; that doesn't mean chocolate ice cream is bad per se.
   Secondly, what a person wants to get out of the book and their own background matters. If someone who is coming from a very neo-pagan background asks me for a book recommendation on Celtic paganism my response will be different than if someone who is coming from a CR approach asks the same question. Context mattes.
   Speaking of context. There's this strange idea that I've seen floating around that if a book is too "Wiccan*" or "New age**" it is somehow flawed or inferior. Let's get something straight here if you are neopagan or worshiping in a neopagan dynamic then there is nothing wrong with books written to cater to that market. While I may be one of the first people to jump on bad scholarship, modern pagan practice is not synonymous with a lack of knowledge of the subject. I have read some very good neopagan books and while that may not be my personal spiritual approach that doesn't detract from the quality of the book itself. I have also read some really awful books and articles written by people claiming a reconstructionist or polytheist approach, so its not as if we can or should assume that neopagan equals poor quality and recon equals good quality. It would be really awesome if we, as a wider community, could cut out the more-pagan-than-thou-better-scholarship-than-thou attitudes. It isn't a competition.

Variety is your friend

   Thirdly, it is entirely possible to recommend a book without putting down every other similar book. It doesn't have to be about how much you loved that one book because everything else ever written about the subject is garbage. I have never seen any subject where there is only one good book in existence on the topic. Also it is possible to recommend a book that you don't like - I do it all the time when I recommend Hutton's 'Blood and Mistletoe' which I can't personally stand but which I admit is a good basic survey of what we do and don't know about the Druids.
   Now in fairness, yes I have written book reviews and publicly said that people should avoid certain books *coughWittacough* for a variety of reasons. And if you have a really valid reason to tell someone not to read something - that it's plagiarism, that it's a disaster of inaccurate info mislabeled, that it has dangerous advice in it - then just be really clear on why you think people shouldn't read it. The reason really should be a lot more than just I didn't like it, or it didn't do anything for me personally.
    In the end it is a truism that we learn from all the sources, good, bad, and blah. Everything we read, every experience we have, contributes to our overall understanding. The key is to keep an open mind and always by willing to re-assess and change your view if you find out a source you liked wasn't accurate, or new information on a subject emerges.
   So read all the things. All of them.
   Ipsa scientia potestas est.

*obviously not referencing British Trad Wicca, but being used as a general term for Wiccan style neopaganism
** also not referencing actual New age material, but apparently being used as a pejorative.

Copyright Morgan Daimler

Morrigan's Call Retreat 2015

A ritual honoring Badb at the Retreat

   I have just returned from the second annual Morrigan's Call Retreat and once again find myself sitting here trying to put into words an experience that is really impossible to describe. Last year the Retreat was new and smaller, fewer people, a wild and otherworldly location, and the energy of the entire weekend was a challenge to step up and answer Her call. This year was very different: more people, a new location that had more of civilization to it, and an energy that was not about hearing Her call as much as about reclaiming ourselves and our own power in this world.
   Some things did remain the same throughout. We saw an amazing mix of people from every possible background, witch and Wiccan, Druid and CR, Avalonion and eclectic, coming together to honor Her with one voice. We saw the same sense of kinship across lines that normally sharply divide, created by the common ground of a shared respect for the Great Queens. And we saw the same spirit of community ensuring that people were taken care of, that jobs were done, that when the unexpected happened there was always someone there to step up and make sure it was covered. Oh, it was far from perfect, and there was frustration and displeasure and things that went entirely off the plan but somehow the diverse strands were woven together anyway.
   The first day, as always, was the most chaotic, with people arriving and settling in, the Temple being set up through community effort and donations of material and sacred items (for the duration of the event). There were several great classes the first afternoon that I would have loved to attend, but I was teaching a workshop myself and then participating in the ritual. All of the ritual's at the Retreat are part of a larger arc, first cleansing, then challenging, then blessing; participants face the three Morrigna one at a time and, if circumstances are right and the priestess is able, may face Her in truth as She is channeled, aspected, or otherwise chooses to appear during ritual. The first night's ritual was dedicated to Badb and was very much about releasing and washing away what need to be let go of. The ritual itself was done next to a river and due to unanticipated circumstances started after dark with only a single fire at the center of the ritual space to illuminate the area. I cannot speak for the people who attended but I found it both a test of our commitment to Her and a very sacred experience.

the main altar in the temple

  The second day began on very little sleep and with a packed schedule ahead. I had two workshops during the day to teach and a second ritual to help with. My first workshop was directly after breakfast and was on the topic of Macha in mythology, always a fun subject. I was able to attend only one workshop all weekend and that was Jhenah Telyndru's class on Morgan and Avalon, but I enjoyed it and learned a new method of meditation called embodiment that I look forward to doing more with. I co-taught a workshop on grounding, centering, and shielding with Mayra Rickey and Melody Legaspi-Seils which I think went very well. Throughout the day I had many great random discussions with people and I both reconnected with old friends and made new ones. The second ritual was for Macha, and was - not surprisingly - the one I anticipated the most since she is the Goddess I am dedicated to. It focused on the theme of facing Her blade and declaring what you would fight for in life. One of my tasks as Her priestess is to carry Her sword in this ritual, and I am always honored to do it.
  After ritual there was a community feast and concert by Mama Gina, who is an amazing storyteller and singer that truly, I think, deserves the title of bard. Hearing her perform her song "Ruby" live raised the hair on my arms; its so much more evocative live than recorded (although that is still worth hearing too). There seemed to be a nice feeling of conviviality among everyone as we shared food and great music together. The cake that the caterer, Dawn DeMeo, had prepared for the feast was beyond amazing, and I must add that she made a second smaller cake for those of us who couldn't have the gluten/regular flour version which was equally amazing. (And yes, for anyone wondering, the first pieces went as offerings, to be sure that the Gods and spirits shared the feast too).

The epic cake from the feast

   The third day began with breakfast and a panel discussion on honoring the Morrigan, during which I hope I didn't talk too much. It's a subject I have so much passion about that I'm afraid I can't help but want to talk about it a lot. I know my fellow panelists are amazing people, and I loved the diversity of experience and opinion that we brought to it. There was a charity raffle for the Wounded Warrior Project. The raffle draw was great fun and people really seemed to enjoy it. I had donated a book or two and Wouldn't you know the one time my ticket was called it was for my own book? (They let me substitute a different item, but it was quite funny).
   Afterwards I had to prep for the final ritual, dedicated to Morrigan as Anu and to people reclaiming their sovereignty. In the ritual people were asked to come forward and place their hands on a stone, representing the stone of sovereignty, and to say out loud if they were ready to reclaim their power. This was meant to be a simple act but as sometimes happens it became a bit more complex. Everyone also received a small rough ruby as a symbol of having gone through the three rituals and claimed a place - symbolic, literal, or however each person chooses to incorporate it - as one of Her ravens. For that, truly is not for us to decide but for the individual to find meaning in, based in how the rituals effected them personally.
    In each ritual I did my best to serve Her, and Them, and my community. I wore a small silver pendant, of the type that people keep ashes in to commemorate loved ones; this pendant carries clay from Uaimh na gCat, the Cave of Cats, from Cruachan. The earth was a gift from a friend who visited there long ago, and carefully kept the wet clay that coated her clothing when she came out, saving it as it dried. I felt that having soil from her sacred place present at the rituals was significant for helping to have Her present as we called Her in to a new place. One of Her other priestesses, dedicated to Badb, bled into the river as the river took its due before the first ritual, and in the first Her people called her with chants and shouts and screams. And I truly believe she answered with Her presence.
   I received some personal messages through various means throughout the weekend, through an amazing Avalonian priestess and through omens and portents, messages of empowerment and of affirmation. It will not be easy to move forward in the strength other people are telling me I have, or that I know she wants for me but I will try. I will try.
    The Morrigan's Call Retreat was once again an amazing experience. I will never cease to be amazed at seeing so many people from so many backgrounds and who follow such different paths coming together in fellowship. Knowing that we can overcome these differences to come together and honor the same Goddesses without argument or judgment gives me such hope. And the irony that a Goddess of War can inspire such unity and fellowship among Her followers is beautiful and joyous and somehow entirely appropriate.

The river

Copyright Morgan Daimler