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Death Shall Have No Dominion

31/1/2013

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A guided meditation inspired by poetry.

For my personal daily card draw I have my meditation and prayer cards shuffled in with my oracle deck. Today, this card came up. I thought it was interesting and appropriate, with all the thinking and writing I have been doing about the Cailleach and Bride. At the winter solstice, this card felt particularly appropriate, with the short days, and so on. However, it feels equally appropriate now, at Imbolc, with its theme of the natural cycles of death and rebirth in nature and in our lives. Looking at the cycles of nature and of the seasons we can all have certainty of rebirth to come.
guided meditation, old woman
I was not aware of Dylan Thomas' poem until I heard it quoted by the great Irish writer and philosopher John Moriarty. The sound of his voice rolling the lines forth, drawing out the "o" in the word "no"  ... "They shall have stars at elbow and feet, and death shall have nooooo dominion"  was both touching and felt like a sort of wake-up call. A call to hope and faith.

John was a man who had experienced the utter demolition of his faith, but had gone on to explore what can only be described as "the meaning of life" in minute, patient detail. He did this via a process at once deeply personal and yet universal -- through immersing himself in nature to an almost hermetic degree, through exploring the mythology not only of the Irish, but of many other cultures. He emerged from this, toward the end of his life, with a spirituality of great depth and breadth -- not always easy for his readers to nail down, and yet so enriching to behold. I will write more about his work in the future.
And Death Shall Have No Dominion

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

~ Dylan Thomas
guided meditation
Meditation and Prayer cards are available in the webshop at this link

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The Cailleach Becomes Bride

29/1/2013

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At the recent winter solstice, I heard Damh the Bard's wonderful Colloquy of the Oak and Holly Kings for the first time.  While some think of the changing of the light or of the seasons as a battle between warmth and cold or dark and light, I love how his poem acknowledges the process of gradual change. At every point in the wheel of the year which we mark as important, I see it more as a day to pause and take note of the changes that are ongoing, or a day to take heart, knowing that they will occur. Winter and spring need not always be seen as enemies. They are also partners, who each have their part in turning the wheel. This poem came to me at Imbolc two years ago. I hope you enjoy it!
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The Cailleach Becomes Bride

Bleak.
Cold
and silence.
Iron hard ground
The roiling sea that blasts the cliffs
under a sky of nothingness

The frosted stone
the frozen grass
useless for fodder
under the feet
of tired and haggard sheep

They say I am wise
with the wisdom perhaps
of the migration of reindeer
who scrape the moss
the runes of twigs
the raven who finds her morsel
and the lynx
who waits it out


cailleach
But I can yet dance
Climb the trees
laugh
and raise a wind
to throw last years leaves
into a dervish circle

I can tease a gentler climate
up the valley
to moisten the loins
bring thoughts of some lustier dame
Only to tumble you
onto the ice
What were we thinking!

I cackle again from the treetops
raising a storm that sends the cattle
lowing and bucking in indignation
from sleet like knives
to the shelter of the dyke
The ponies
lower their heads to the ground
tails plastered to their legs

I will jig and reel down the beach
entangled in seaweed
Enraged
I will blast your windows
and tear your thatch
You must regard me!
I will rip your hat off
slap your face
and make you look at death squarely
We must discuss this
however briefly

Snow
soft and moist
as the blanket of a newborn
Quietly coddling
the first snowdrops
the brightness
of a candle

Like a maiden
with the gentle blandness
of purity
Yet knowing
She dances
under the peaceful
painted snow
the dance
of the quickening seed

The crocus flung up purple
like trying Mother's hat
discarded in the naked               dance
of further flurries
and the Cailleach's blood
running in her veins
like the burn in spate

Dancing mad as a hare
across the lawn
like a tumble of kittens
that run
spraddle legged
on their first jaunts
or the wonder of lambs
put to pasture
flinging out a highland leg

Increasing now
in quiet knowing
in the naming of each flower
in its successive season
their buds waiting
in her small womb
where the Cailleach nestles
against her backbone

Dreaming


 - Kris Hughes 2011
spring maiden
























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Cailleach painting by Mairin-Taj Caya     Girl with Flowers painting by Belmourida
Poems for the Season of Imbolc
Poems for the Season of Imbolc
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"Some of the most amazing pagan poetry I’ve ever been blessed to encounter."                                -
              - Sharon Paice MacLeod, author of Celtic Cosmology and the Otherworld, and The Divine Feminine in Ancient Europe


At Imbolc, Brigid, the goddess of poetic inspiration, walks the land.
These poems were composed over many years, and under the influence of different folkloric ideas – particularly that of the juxtaposition of Brigid  and the Cailleach.

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We Need to Talk About the Cailleach

27/1/2013

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Is the Cailleach actually many local weather goddesses? Is she a goddess at all?

Picture
I'm a bit worried about the Cailleach these days. She is not a simple character in either Scots or Irish folklore. You will not find the Cailleach in the great sagas and cycles of Irish or Welsh gods and heroes. You will find other "hag" figures, and if you like to take the view that all hags are just re-workings of one archetype, then I guess you can run with that. However, let's just stick to the Cailleach, for now. I said that she is not simple, but rather than being the opposite, which might be complex, I'd say that she is diverse. We don't find many variants of one Cailleach story, so much as we find a number of pretty dissimilar stories whose common thread seems to be weather. Perhaps we should introduce our stories in future, by saying "Here is a tale of a cailleach."
cailleach
blue-skinned cailleach
Cailleach mask by Sarah Lawless

In Scotland, tales of weather hags which include the Cailleach Bheur, various carlines and witches and a figure known perversely as "Gentle Annie" abound, but most of these tales are very localised. Generally, the local Cailleach lives up the nearest large or barren mountain peak, or somewhere similar. She seems particularly associated with the rough weather that is common in late winter and early spring. Many regions experience a sort of false spring around the beginning of February, when lambs are born and a little fishing might be possible, only to find that the weather regresses into wildness around the time of the equinoxial gales. Scottish and Irish weather is unsettled at the best of times, but this unpredictability is particularly frustrating, challenging and dangerous at this time of year, when people were traditionally running out of foodstuffs as well as patience.
The Cailleach tales are many, but there are several general themes. In one, we find the hag holding spring/summer prisoner - usually in the form of a maiden, who may be called Bride, or Brigid. Through cunning, or with the assistance of a helper (in one case Angus Óg) Bride is able to defeat the Cailleach or escape, and spring is able to progress. However, it seems that most of these tales are modern variants of just one story collected by one folklorist, which got spread about in the folklore revival of the 20th century. This in no way devalues this story, but it is an oversimplification to say that "This is the Cailleach story." The theme of the Cailleach holding a prisoner also comes up in some local tales where a hunter or fisherman is imprisoned by an amorous Cailleach. In these tales, it may be that if the fellow is willing to kiss or make love to her, she will be young again. Meanwhile, other variants on the Cailleach/Bride theme have them as one and the same entity, where the Cailleach cyclically grows old and is renewed annually by a well of youth or some similar device.
There is also a famous poem from around the 9th century, known as The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare. This is the complaint of an old woman who has lost her beauty and wealth. Almost a kind of female Job. She says things like, "When my arms are seen, all bony and thin, they are not, I declare, worth raising around comely youths." and "My hair is scant and grey; to have a mean veil over it causes no regret." This atmosphere of bitterness and anger is one of the things which runs through the different tales of the Cailleach. Inevitably, she is portrayed as ugly and misshapen, often a giantess. Her skin is blue, she has only one eye, red teeth and other horrors - and she is not happy about it.
Sometimes she has a number of cohorts or sisters of similar appearance and they are frequently credited with having created large features of the landscape, either by the action of their enormous feet or with hammers. One strong geographical association is with the Corryvreckan whirlpool, which lies between the Isle of Jura and the west coast of Scotland. This is a very real and dangerous stretch of water, and is said to be the place where the Cailleach washes her plaid (a shawl or cloak).
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The Corryvreckan today

The Scots have a talent for irony, and the name "Gentle Annie" is a great example of this. Gentle Annie is the Cailleach figure known to fishermen of northeast Scotland, where "Gentle Annie weather" refers to the rough seas and gales of spring, which begin around the equinox and may continue until the end of April.
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I Know Where I'm Going

In my mind, even the 1945 Scottish film "I Know Where I'm Going", with its situation of people stormbound, and its famous scene at the Corryvreckan whirlpool, is somehow a continuation of the theme of the young gaining the upper hand over the old, as the heroine, who is destined to marry an older man is wooed and won by the young laird who overcomes him and reclaims his lands. The only thing missing is an actual old woman -- the weather itself takes that role. Or perhaps that part is taken by the young laird's mysterious, slightly older ex, living a strange, elemental life with her deerhounds and shotgun. If you have never seen this film it is a real cracker -- but I digress...

I'm deeply indebted to "Seren" for her article on this topic on the Tairis website. It's well researched and well presented information helped to remind me of what I already knew, as well as giving me one or two new snippets of information. This helped me get my thoughts in order and made writing this piece much less of a chore. I also looked at the Cailleach from the angle of my oracle work in First there is a mountain... some months ago.
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The Lake of Beer

26/1/2013

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I've always loved the "lake of beer" prayer attributed to St. Brigid. It speaks of natural enjoyment of life's bounty, of the joy of good company and great hospitality. It seems to bring the gods and saints to earth in a gentle and wondrous way. So when I thought I'd look it up, once again, I was surprised to find several quite different versions floating around in cyberspace. Not really concerned with "authenticity" and lacking much in the way of citations, I'm not going to comment on which one is the "real" one. They are all real now! What fascinated me was how as I compared them, some lines could easily be different translations of the same original, but then other lines would appear in only one version. For me, they seem to have more depth and impact taken as a group. One seeming to balance what another lacks. So here they are, and if I have stepped on anyone's copyright toes, please let me know, and we'll fix that.
St. Brigid is so mixed up with the goddess Brigid that trying to separate them is a bit like trying to separate conjoined twins. I'm not going to attempt surgery here. Brigid, we are taught, is associated with home and hearth, domestic agriculture - especially cattle and lambs, fire, smithing (and by association with all creativity), springtime and the turning of the seasons, and much more.
This first version is from Lady Gregory the Irish writer and folklorist. I don't know her source, or how much she may have embellished it. I will give the others after it, without comment, because I think it's nicer to read them without that interruption from me. Enjoy!
I would wish a great lake of ale for the King of Kings;
I would wish the family of heaven to be drinking it throughout life and time.
I would wish the men of Heaven in my own house;
I would wish vessels of peace to be given to them.
I would wish joy to be in their drinking;
I would wish Jesu to be here among them.
I would wish the three Marys of great name;
I would wish the people of heaven from every side.
I would wish to be a rent-payer to the Prince;
The way if I was in trouble He would give me a good blessing.

st brigid, lake of beer
artist: Br. Mickey McGrath, OSFS

I would like the angels of Heaven to be among us.
I would like an abundance of peace.
I would like full vessels of charity.
I would like rich treasures of mercy.
I would like cheerfulness to preside over all.
I would like Jesus to be present.
I would like the three Marys of illustrious renown to be with us.
I would like the friends of Heaven to be gathered around us from all parts.
I would like myself to be a rent payer to the Lord;
That should I suffer distress, that he would bestow a good blessing upon me.
I would like a great lake of beer for the King of Kings.
I would like to be watching Heaven's family drinking it through all eternity.

I'd like to give a lake of beer to God.
I'd love the Heavenly
Host to be tippling there
For all eternity.

I'd love the men of Heaven to live with me,
To dance and sing.
If they wanted, I'd put at their disposal
Vats of suffering.

White cups of love I''d give them,
With a heart and a half;
Sweet pitchers of mercy I'd offer
To every man.

I'd make Heaven a cheerful spot,
Because the happy heart is true.
I'd make the men contented for their own sake
I'd like Jesus to love me too.

I'd like the people of heaven to gather
From all the parishes around,
I'd give a special welcome to the women,
The three Marys of great renown.

I'd sit with the men, the women of God
There by the lake of beer
We'd be drinking good health forever
And every drop would be a prayer.

saint brigid
artist: Patrick Joseph Tuohy (1894 – 1930)

I should like a great lake of beer for the King of Kings.
I should like the angels of Heaven to be drinking it through time eternal.
I should like excellent meats of belief and pure piety.
I should like the men of Heaven at my house.
I should like barrels of peace at their disposal.
I should like for them cellars of mercy.
I should like cheerfulness to be their drinking.
I should like Jesus to be there among them.
I should like the three Marys of illustrious renown to be with us.
I should like the people of Heaven, the poor, to be gathered around from all parts.

saint brigin, icon
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Poems for the Season of Imbolc
Poems for the Season of Imbolc

Imbolc always inspires me, and over the years I've written a number of poems about Brigid and the Cailleach at this time of year. This little volume features four of my favourites.

Size 8.5" x 5.5" 

16 pages

Please see product page for more information.

$
8.00    
At Imbolc, Brigid, the goddess of poetic inspiration walks the land.
These poems were composed over many years, and under the influence of different folkloric ideas – particularly that of the juxtaposition of Brigid and the Cailleach.
"
These poems masterfully weave together authentic lore with deeply spiritual imagery that would be perfect for an Imbolc ritual."    
              - Sharon Paice MacLeod, author of Celtic Cosmology and the Otherworld, and The Divine Feminine in Ancient Europe

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!
Subscribers also get access to special offers in the shop.

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Insight is more valuable than prediction

25/1/2013

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Sometimes it's hard to know whether we're on the right track - with our careers, with our long term plans, with our choice of projects, and with our relationships with others. I wish I could tell you that there are easy answers but you already know that this isn't the case. Do we "follow our hearts" or "do our duty"? Should we choose the safe options or take a leap into the unknown?

Go Deeper oracle cards
photo: Martin Vorel

Life is complex and unpredictable. Yes, I do card readings but I don't deal in predictions, and here's why: Life can be unpredictable, but mostly it isn't! It's so predictable that you really don't need me to tell you what's going to happen. If you keep doing what you always do, yeah, that's right -- you're probably going to keep on getting more of what you're already getting.

Oracle readings: they're about perspective.

Sometimes, it's the complexity of life which keeps us stuck in doing what we always do and getting what we always get. We can't see the forest for the trees. What does that really mean? It's about perspective, about angle, and this is where I believe a reading, and a little help from me to interpret that reading, if you like, can really help. I believe that what the cards do best, at least in my hands, is to give us a fresh angle on things, and when we have that, sometimes it's much easier to break down the walls of fear, or stuckness, or whatever.

If we can get a bird's eye view of the forest, then we can see whether it's a mere two hour hike to get out of there, or whether it's a major journey. We can get a better idea of whether our little forest is the best place for us in our current landscape, or whether the grass really is greener. Likewise, we get a better understanding of our internal landscape. The cards encourage us to look at ourselves in new ways. Like the trees that may obscure our view of the forest as a whole, the labels we put on ourselves, such as "poor", "too old", or "tied down" can get in the way of seeing who we really are.

Believe me when I say that insight into the present is of more value than a prediction of the future. Believe me when I say that understanding yourself is absolutely the best place to begin when trying to change your circumstances. There is no other place to begin. Ultimately, we mostly create our own reality.


Go Deeper Reading

In depth reading by email.

More information about my readings at this link.

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If you enjoyed this post, you might also like this video about nature and the Celtic worldview, which uses images from my oracle deck.

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Visions in meditation part 3 - Epona

24/1/2013

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No plenty without earth energy.

Picture
Introduction
This is the third of three visions I had in meditation recently. These may have partly been the result of saying a prayer which is addressed to the three deities Brigid, Manannán and Epona - I don't know. However since the first two visions concerned Brigid and Manannán I couldn't help but half expect to have a vision concerning Epona in the third meditation. I tried to keep my mind out of the way, so to speak, but I admit that it was more difficult this time, as I had an expectation which was difficult to suppress. If you are coming in in the middle of this series, and I'm not making things clear, then you might like to read the introduction to part one here.


I went to the beach once again in meditation. It got very dark. Storm? Nightfall? Of course, I thought, based on the prayer, that I "should" have a vision of Epona. Hmmmm...
lightening horse, energy horse
artist:Karen King

Well, the horse was there and I got on Her back. I was told to "Hang on!" - but then "I am not your horse, Iona!" She became huge and I was like a flea on Her. "I am a god, and I hardly notice you. I will show you the dark." Tremendous thunder and lightning then, and everything black -- more awe inspiring than frightening. "Energy! There can be no plenty without energy," She said.
We came into a green glade -- grass cropped by grazers and green trees -- and torrential rain. Unimaginably hard rain. Somehow my perspective changed and I saw her as a lady clothed in a long, hooded green cloak, and the rain was still like a waterfall. I had thoughts that it was raining so hard that it might actually uproot the grass. Energy!
At some point I remember thinking/saying that I would really like to see those forests and pastures I saw from afar in the first vision, with Bride. We went somewhere like that, briefly. It was full of colour and also full of predators and she struck at them with her forelegs in anger.
horse cave painting
Everything went black. We were going down into a deep tube or tunnel. I couldn't see/feel anything, it was hard to stay "present". I think it was the terror/bliss of loss of control. This went on for a long time. I sensed that I wasn't alone. She was still there, but I must face it alone. Dark. Black. Emptiness. A feeling that it would split me in two. Power - energy - terror - bliss - death - birth all in one.
Finally it became lighter. I saw a red orange swirling stuff. Are we deep in the earth? I long for the surface, for plants, soil, water - but she is only concerned with energy!
~ ~ ~
I came out at this point. I think I was trying to make a landscape in which to exist, and when I saw it, it was devoid of biological life. However, I believe that this was the work of my mind and I stopped there.
Thinking on this, Epona doesn't bring us baskets of fruit or grain. She isn't a horse, or a woman -- She is an aspect of the earth itself. Perhaps She is the earth. The animating force, the energy without which life is not possible.

If you enjoyed this post, you might also like Moon Drum.

My ears are keen, my breath is warm

A chapbook collection containing the short story The Wild Mare, plus four poems which share the theme of horses.

Size 8.5" x 5.5"

21 pages

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Visions in meditation part 2 - Manannán

22/1/2013

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The sea is ever-changing.

Picture
Introduction
This is the second of three visions I had in meditation. To read more about how this came to be, you can read the introduction to part 1. While I don't really see this as poetry, it just flowed in this format.
I sit in my room
The room is framed with magic
The window set about
With shells, with starfish
Through it I see the sea
Sitting beside it, I hear the sea
But the sea is distant
A thousand miles or more

"Come out to play!"
Manannán is calling me
"Come out to play!"
I know He is the trickster

"No trick," he says
"There is a door.
Go into the next room and see."
And there is a door
I open it to solid water
Which does not spill

Through the open doorway
I enter the water and swim
I know what it is to be a selkie
The water perfectly cool
I swim
I know the speed of a dolphin
And Manannán rides on my back

Not the stately Storm King
Of beard and robes
He is something other
Suggestion of beard
Green hide
Webbed feet
He is something ancient
Entirely other

And I see
He rides the dolphins
And the great fishes
He loves this!
And the smaller fish
His "little lambs"

And I understand
That this
This is why He is God of the Sea
Because in this life
This underwater life
Where He knows
The pleasure of speed
The pleasure of travel
He will protect
His fast steeds
His little lambs

Picture
artist: Helen Rich







manannan mac lir
"This," He tells me
"Is part of you
For your land
Was once under the sea
Now you mourn
Salt without water
The bleached bones"

And I see
When He rises from the water
He becomes that robed
And bearded Father
On His sacred island
He is thus

And now He shows me
How His waters will rise
And the earth will be whole
And the land will recede
And the people of the land
Will turn on one another
And thus reduce their numbers
And the earth will be whole
But never the same
For the sea is ever-changing


under the sea
artist: Osnat Tzadok

Out of this vision , in my "rational" mind I think more and more how foolish we are, how inflated in our sense of our abilities to think that we can "protect" Gaia from our kind. And if we're honest, we don't do it for Her, we are just trying to preserve our real estate, our playground, things we feel sentimental about, our way of life.

There is not one thing we have made which did not come from the earth - the concrete and glass, the rusting metal. We ripped it all from her breast, and when we push too far, a great change will come. Our plastic and trash and destruction will somehow be re-shaped as nothing more than strange deposits of minerals and organic material, and what is left of our race, if anything - will we be as the Fomorians or as the Tuatha Dé Danann? Or maybe Manannán's children this time?
As I typed this from my handwritten notes just now, I also remembered that Manannán is the trickster, killing and re-animating the men of the fortress to make a point, as if it's nothing.
Continue to part 3...
Here are some tales of Manannán in His role as trickster-teacher.

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Visions in meditation - part 1

20/1/2013

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Bride. Light.

Picture
Introduction
In meditation, like many other people, I have constructed through imagination a place. In my case, I take a ritual walk to a beach where often I enter at a door, to be greeted by a mysterious and kindly nun-like figure. She guides me through a beautiful spiral building to where I have something like an apartment of rooms, where I may meditate or meet guides and Gods. I may also go outdoors into a magical world. At other times, having reached the beach, I may choose to remain out of doors where I have also had many literally wonder-full experiences.
Most of the experiences, or visions, have felt quite personal. I may have shared them with a few friends. However, very recently I had three visions which I feel compelled to share. I don't claim that they necessarily contain any great message for humanity. I don't claim anything. They are what I saw when I meditated. Are they just the product of my imagination, or something more? I leave that to the reader to decide. Maybe it's not important to answer this. However, I feel that they did not come simply from my imagination. I feel that there is more to this - but I make no claim beyond "I feel". When the great Christian mystics had their visions, they were often in the awkward position of being accused of heresy or insanity. As a Pagan, I have no pope or bishop to approach for permission to publish, no panel of inquisitors. In this day, I am more likely to be accused of the heresy of belief. Ah, well!
One final thing - I'm not sure why it happened, but on the day of the first vision, something prompted me to use this prayer before I meditated. As you will see, the visions I had related to the three deities addressed here. You can read more about how I came to begin using this prayer at bedtime here.
bedtime prayer card
Blessed Manannán mac Lir,
Father of the Deep,
ensure that as I sleep tonight
I may only be contacted
by the purest
and highest consciousness.

Blessed Brigid, Mother of All,
protect me from dreams of ego.

Blessed Epona, Mare of the Night,
keep me always in the etheric realms
as we travel together
in dreams of peace.


In meditation I walked down to the beach. A beautiful, warm, damp, winter's day. I had no desire to enter the house today. I felt a bit disconnected and didn't remember descending the steps, so in my mind I re-traced them. I came around the rock outcrop and knew that there must be meadows and pastures inland. I thought, "Perhaps the Lady will meet me here. Perhaps she will take me to meet the Cailleach," but these were my own thoughts. Then she was there, in beautiful multi-coloured robes, and she showed me light. Light so loving and so radiant that filled the air and the sky all around us, and I felt weak and wild and awed all at once. The energy was very strong and I trembled a little.
Then I went up as a gull and saw how the gull loves the light more than anything - it flies in the light, it is the light. Then I was a fish in the sea, and all the herring and mackerel and cod and other fish joined me - rising toward the surface, kissing the air briefly - loving the light. Basking at the surface - accepting the beautiful light.
the goddess brigid
Brighid Walks the Land
artist: Helena Nelson-Reed

I was on land again with the Lady, and she showed me the beautiful woods and pastures not far inland, where black horses ran and frolicked - and she said that this was for me.
Next she showed me that my body/spirit is a shrine, and this was represented by a kind of gothic chapel. She gave me a bright candle and showed me how this one bright light is all I need to illuminate this space.
I puzzled a little about Bride, Manannán, Epona - which goddess is earth, which is sky? I don't really think that the question can be answered but I understand that Bride is pure light.
Continue to part 2...

Update: You might enjoy this video I made about Bride, and Imbolc.

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Sacred Stewardship 

18/1/2013

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For me, cattle are a symbol of sacred stewardship.

cattle oracle meaning
image: Jim Champion

People often joke about horsewomen, that their barns are tidier than their houses. I suppose that has described me, at times, but it took on a new level of truth after I made a shrine to the goddess Epona in my feed room. Somehow, creating a sacred space there created a desire in me to make things a little more beautiful. Beautiful might only be a well swept floor and tidy corners in a lowly barn, but it feels good to make it so. It feels good, at the full moon, to enter a clean space, to see the concrete floor gleam a little in the moonlight.
Picture
For a variety of reasons, I have had difficulty creating sacred space in my house. I've lived here something like four years now, and haven't been able to figure out where to put an altar. When I lived in Scotland I had a fire (gas) with a nice marble hearth. Without really planning it, that became my altar. It just had a couple of nice statues and candles. In the evenings when I was alone I often sat by the warmth, on the nice rug, and felt close to my gods. Later, when I renovated another room in the house, I made another, similar hearth and did the same.
When I moved back to Colorado I tried hard to find a nice place for an altar in my new house. I really disliked the corner where the wood stove is. I don't have much money to fix it up, and it's very ugly, and although I don't really know anything about Feng Shui - I'm sure that somehow the energy in that corner is very blocked, the heavy stove is at a bad angle, etc. So - no nice alter/hearth anymore. For several years I have tried to figure out where to put the altar, and I can't seem to find it! There is one corner of my bedroom I kept considering, but took no action. So sometimes I just create one somewhere for an hour, and sometimes I go outdoors under some big trees...sometimes I go to the feed room.
Epona shrine
sacred cottonwood trees
Just recently I began doing a short morning devotion, and I wanted to NOT have to go the the barn. Brrrrrr! Of course, now the corner of the bedroom that I was thinking of had a stack of boxes of books in it. I neatly covered them with a nice cloth and I have been using this as a morning altar. So things have evolved nicely, and I think I can soon graduate to some nice piece of furniture there instead of the boxes!
simple home altar
So what has this got to do with the Cattle card, and it's definition? The other morning, having done my little devotion, I drew a card for meditation, and it was Cattle. Several things connected to sacred space came up for me. I noticed that having created the altar in my bedroom, and using it daily had encouraged me to clean and tidy up in there, and to deal with a long-standing problem of dust blowing in around the old wooden sash windows (which I dearly love). It led me to ponder the questions of sacred space and respect of the sacred self, and if all that I am is connected to all that exists, then in a sense all is sacred and exists in sacred space. This is actually quite hard for me to accept, because I struggle with resistance to my current environment. (Perhaps, in noticing that, I am noticing a key to unlock the thing I am really struggling with!)
When I consciously create a space as sacred, or consciously choose to see all that surrounds me as sacred, I am more likely to be inspired to steward it well. I don't currently have much money to throw at things like this, but when I take a little trouble to clean/repair/paint things that need it - not for the sake of impressing the neighbours, but in an acknowledgement of the sacred - I will always feel better, and those who enter that space will feel better, too. For some readers, I will be stating the obvious, I know. I didn't have the benefit of being raised to think like this, and it doesn't come naturally. For me - it's very exciting to think of it in this way.
Understand that everything is your conspicuous wealth. Your stuff, your health, your family, your friendships. To hold it in sacred space is to steward it. To steward it is a very practical act of honour.

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I am dead, yet I live.

12/1/2013

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Picture

Elder (sambucus nigra) is one of my favourite trees/herbs. It's also a card in my oracle deck.
I'll let it speak for itself!

elder tree oracle card
Elder 
Incredible usefulness. Boundless potential for growth. Offering solace to many.



Unco weather hae we been through:
The mune glowered, and the wind blew,
And the rain it rained on him and me,
And bour-tree blossom is fair to see! 

There was nae voice of beast ae man,
But the tree soughed and the burn ran,
And we heard the ae voice of the sea:
Bour-tree blossom is fair to see!

                ~ Robert Louis Stevenson
                    "The Bour-Tree Den"
I am the bour tree. I stand on the hillside awaiting spring. I am dead, yet I live. I wait. I am patient. Lashed by rain, shaken by wind, blanketed with snow and riven by frost I wait. As the season softens to mud and warmth I feel my leaf buds growing, soon they begin to unfurl and I can once more drink the sunlight and feel the moist air tickling and teasing them.
elder tree winter sun
elder in bloom sambucus nigra
In the heat of early summer my flowers open, and I am beautiful. I am decked as a bride and loved and adored by all. The breezes jostle my heavy branches, laden with nectar and pollen, I am a friend to all who buzz and flutter and caress me. Birds have their nests within the world of my branches, and insects also call me home. My fragrance attracts many visitors who are intoxicated by my bounty. I have much to give! Plenty to spare! My blossoms heal the sick and strengthen the blood and wind of the healthy. Take all you need.

Slowly, the petals drop, giving way to little green nodules. In time they increase and grow red, then purple and almost black. The weight of my fruit bows me and cracks at my branches, but I stand firm. The ground beneath my boughs is littered with shed branches and shoots which fell in such battles past - but I live on! Children may make toys from such trifles. Now the birds are thick in my branches, eating their fill, and sharing with some who walk on four legs, and also on two. I am transformed into sweet drinks and food for winter by those ingenious ones.
ripe elderberries
Now my leaves begin to dry and change colour. They lose their sensitivity and begin to fall to the ground. At my feet, the earth is changing. The soil beings to breath more and more slowly. I long for rest, for clean coldness. The winds come and rip the death rags from me. The sap recedes. I am become bones. Blackened bones. I am dead, yet I live. I wait.
elderflowers detail

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