Herons are skilled and patient fishermen. It's not unusual to see them standing motionless in shallow water for long periods, as they wait for the fleeting moment of opportunity when they will strike a fish with great accuracy. However, they are also more widely skilled and able to hunt on land when the opportunity presents itself, or dive for fish in deeper water. As a result, neither they nor their young will go hungry for long.

There is something about crows and herons. In nature, they rarely get along, with crows tending to mob herons - possibly because herons will eat other birds' nestlings. Perhaps that's why the two birds are so often associated in mythology, as their battles have drawn the attention of humans who then needed to explain them with stories. In most stories, the Heron is the good guy, but not always. The Chinese even suggest that the two birds can represent the yin yang concept.

Here is one folktale which, with only minor variations, is known from India to western England. It goes like this -

A crow and a heron were both perched in a large tree one day, when along came a traveller (or hunter, depending on the version of the story). The day was hot, so the man decided to have a nap in the shade of the tree. He fell into a very deep sleep, and after some time, as the sun moved across the sky, the shadow of the tree no longer protected him. The kindly Heron spread his wings out to shade the man's face for awhile longer as he slept on. So deep was his sleep that his mouth began to gape open as he snored. Soon the crow could stand this no longer, so he took aim and dropped something into the poor man's mouth! (It might have been an acorn, it might have been something else that birds sometimes drop - depends on who is telling the story.) Naturally the man awoke and he was angry. He looked up, saw the Heron, took out his gun (or bow) and shot him dead.

This traditional tale is a pretty extreme example of guilt by association, and when considering this aspect of the card in a reading, I would look for subtle variations on this theme as well as the more dramatic form of outright false accusation. For example, in one reading I did, it seemed that the client's spouse could not get past expecting her to hurt him in the same way that his ex had! He didn't actually suspect her of any bad behaviour, but he couldn't help expecting that it would happen eventually. (And those strong family ties made it difficult for her to give up on the relationship.) This card can also refer to things like prejudice and discrimination, as well as the dangers of "running with a bad crowd". In other cases, we might be looking at a situation where someone feels torn between loving loyalty to their family and some negative perception that society has about their family or social group.

Perhaps these considerations relate back to the heron's tendency to work (hunt) alone, yet also returning to their own kind for the safety of numbers. In a way, this is how the Heron balances the tendency to be misjudged, and avoids the risk of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He just gets on with his hunting, and goes home to those who understand him - if he's wise.


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Thinking about the current new moon, and an appropriate meditation, led me to this. The habit of calling the dark moon the "new moon" causes some confusion because it might seem to describe that sliver of light which soon appears as the waxing crescent, as in this painting. I really intend this kind of meditation to be done around the time of the dark moon. In music, we talk about the importance of the silence between the notes. In the same way, the dark moon is a time of pause, or suspension which defines the light and energy it frames. I also wrote in more detail about The New Moon in a blog post last month.

There is mist on the hills this morning, but no rain. Down the glen where the people live I can hear them starting the land rovers and making a lot of noise. If I were a deer, maybe I'd be worried. If I were a deer I'd be headed somewhere where they'd never find me. Or maybe not. Maybe, if I were a deer I'd be ready to meet my end today, ready to move on...

Stalking ponies, or Garrons, near Ullapool. (Roger McLachlan)

Last night I ate the hay inside this fence and some grass, too, and all of the dead thistles in that one corner. Water from a bucket. I am impatient to get back to the pastures. Life is more interesting there.

In a little while the man called Archie will be here. He almost always comes first. We know each other. He'll brush me very fast and throw the deer saddle on me. I'll spend most of the day waiting, but I'll probably be carrying a stinking, heavy stag by afternoon. I am one of the strongest ponies, they say. How frightened I was of that job when I was younger. The smell of blood! My instincts told me that this was dangerous. Blood attracts predators. I see now that the only predators here are the men, and they treat me almost as one of them. I know that they will keep me safe, but I do wish they would wash that smell off me at the end of the day, or let me roll in the mud where the burn is wide and shallow. I roll and roll in this enclosure, but even if I get the stink off of me, then it is all around me. I am glad that there are other ponies here with me. I am friends with the one they call Meg.

Ah, here comes Archie up the track. He'll be here soon. Later I'll be dozing in my saddle, tied to the rail there. I think it will be sunny. Yesterday, I dreamt of sweet spring grass and the smell of spring mares. I feel sure that they will turn us out on the hill soon! We have a winter of snow and hay ahead before the spring comes again.

Some of the men who walk with us are strangers. They smell odd and have loud voices. They look at the beauty of the glen with such wonder. Most of them stay near the land rovers, sometimes they come to look at me, slap my neck, fuss over the tying of their stag. I see the awe in their eyes. This place is strange to them, yet they are hungry for it. This is my home. I never leave. I see it's beauty all the time.

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I've had a growing admiration for John Moriarty's ideas over the past year or so. My first introduction to him was via a short video interview with him, during which I constantly found myself nodding in excited agreement with most everything he said. One moment I would either think "Wow! I thought I was the only one who had felt this or noticed that - but he gets it, too." Then, he would say something else and I would be floored by its originality and complete aptness, and it would be an angle on something I had never thought of.

So began my occasional reading of an interview here, an obituary there (John Moriarty died in 2007), some small pieces of his writing available on line and so on. His books were a little hard to locate at first. They are more readily available from sellers like Amazon, now, or you can go direct to his fabulous publishers Lilliput Press.  So, let's talk about my favourite of his books, which is also the most accessible - Invoking Ireland.

The book has been a joy, and not such heavy going as I had feared. You would find some basic knowledge of Irish mythology useful, it's true, and maybe a smattering of Irish history, as well. However, the book also has a glossary. The first couple of chapters drew me in.  The theme of our existence in various realms of reality, how they mesh or exist in parallel - what this means for our shapeshifting nature between human soul and animal soul, is introduced with gentle enticement.

As the author leads us into the experiences of Amhairghin Glúngheal, Fintan mac Bochra, Cormac mac Airt, Conaire Mór and a host of others, he writes mostly in the first person. Knowing John Moriarty's personal story somewhat, the openings of many chapters had me thinking "Ah! Now he is telling his own story." Yes and no. I think that all Moriarty's works are autobiographical in a sense, as all gnostic writing must ultimately be, yet this book is also every Irishman's story, and every human being's story. It's not all easy going. Questions are asked as the book progresses, and the answers are not always satisfactory, it seems to me, but there is great honesty and humanity in the attempt.

The fact is, I did find it a heavy climb uphill through the first half of this book, once the romance of the first chapters had passed. Then, suddenly, we seemed to reach the brow of a hill, and find ourselves descending into the ease of a Kerry Puck Fair, and the story of a man forever changed by his own traditions - or perhaps I should say forever restored. This is followed by another very easily read chapter, entitled "Shaman". Again, I asked myself in the reading of it, whether the first person telling was just a convenience or more of a confession. This chapter is one of my favourites, and reads almost as a guided visualisation. A mere four pages, it is one I know I will return to again and again. It tells of a dream or vision, or perhaps a journey into another realm. The writing here is so much of one solid piece, that I struggle to find a simple quote.

Shaman tells a story of the smoke of a turf fire, of turf itself, and of an inner prehistoric landscape experienced. Speaking of the sods he'd bring from the shed each night for his fire -- "They were older, I'd remind myself, than Ireland's oldest folktale," Moriarty tells us. "What that folktale was I didn't know, but how strange it was, crossing a yard at nightfall with a prehistoric landscape in a bag on my back." He goes on to tell how one night he sat by his smoking fire, and the reek of it worked a mystical intoxication on him, and he was transported to that ancient landscape. He found an ancient pair of boots there, and putting them on, he began a strange journey. There was a lake which "didn't mirror some things it should mirror. It didn't mirror a red horse on a ridge. It didn't mirror its own islands." He continued on, experiencing a wood stinking of death, and experiencing life as a tree being felled, until finally, "The two sides of the path came together. I entered thick darkness and I didn't see the house until, seeing an old man by the fire, I realized I'd already walked into it." Here, after a riddling conversation with the old man, the adventurer undergoes a sort of agony and death, until, "it death-rattled the life I'd been living, modern life, out of me."

Part 2 of Invoking Ireland contains chapters on Lugh, on Manannan, and on Cú Roí. The chapter on Macha, worked as a beautifully crafted piece of storytelling, is another favourite of mine. There is quite a long chapter on Danu, as well, which is very moving, containing some startling moments of descriptive clarity -- both of nature and of the author's love for Danu. An understanding of a woman's love, bound up with the unfathomable love of a goddess, somehow comes to crystalise in the a description of a rowan tree growing there between the hills known as the paps of Danu. Storytelling and imagery rule here, as they always seem to, with Moriarty.

Much of this book is a commentary on what Ireland has been, what it has become, but also the hope of what it could be again. Written at a time before the current economic woes, when Ireland was still very much the "Celtic Tiger", the author is keenly aware of what is being lost amid the success, and of what was lost in previous centuries. Moriarty used to say that he felt like he should show a passport when leaving his little rural corner of Ireland and entering the modern country. This book is mostly an otherworldly one, and yet the clues are there, encouraging not just the Irish, but all of us to look for some depth in things again, to learn to go with the grain of the land and its gods again. When this kind of commentary does arise in Invoking Ireland, it is blankly honest and incisive, but it never harangues. The point is made and we are back to the story.

John Moriarty self-identified as a Christian and a Catholic, but as a Pagan reader I found that this book had everything to offer and I found little to discard and nothing to offend. It is interesting that the chapter in this book entitled Christ was made up almost entirely of quotes from other writers. As to why that should be, my only guess is that the author simply engaged with the material of the story of Jesus differently than he did with that of his indigenous gods. However, I was left in no doubt that he engaged with these gods at a deep level, and the best part for me has to be that in Invoking Ireland he did us the honour of reporting his findings in so beautiful and personal a way.

I wrote this piece many years ago, but it seems particularly apt in 2021. Many people are struggling with too much aloneness, while others revel in it - but either way, I believe balance is everything. Everyone's perfect balance point for solitude is a little different, though.

Wild Cat - Rejection of society and relationships. Mistrust, fear and defensiveness coupled with great personal resourcefulness. Loss of identity through dilution. That's the definition I have given to this card. Self sufficiency is a lonely place, and while survival skills are great to have, I believe that so much more can be achieved through community effort, and having others to share the load usually makes for more fun, too!

The Wild Cat is about rejecting society or the company of others. Taking this position in life may be a great teacher for awhile, but over the long haul, it can bring problems, too. In nature, the Wild Cat is shy and fearful of strangers, and this is not a quality I would wish on anyone, but the other side of the coin, self sufficiency, is definitely an asset. In case you are not familiar with the animal I am talking about, this is a small cat (Felis silvestris grampia) now only found in the Scottish Highlands. It is about the same size as a domestic cat, but don't confuse it with feral domestic cats who have reverted to living as wild. This is a distinct animal which has been in it's habitat for a very long time. A real native.

When this card comes up in a reading I might be wondering whether the person has short-term lessons to learn from the Wild Cat, or whether they habitually take up a position that is described by it. Whether our Wild Cat tendencies are temporary or deeply ingrained, when this card occurs, I believe that it's worth looking at whether things are out of balance. Is the card calling our attention to an irrational need to be alone and fiercely independent? Is it asking us whether we really need to be like a Wild Cat when we might be happier living in closer community with others? Or is it merely pointing out that we need to be aware of our tendencies in this direction? 

One of the greatest threats to the Wild Cat as a species is its ability to interbreed with domestic cats, and so there may be a lesson here as far as giving up one's identity too readily, whether for the sake of a mate or for some similar reason. In a reading, the card might be pointing out real potential for something like this to happen, or calling your attention to a situation which already exists. It might also be pointing to an unfounded or habitual concern about this sort of thing.

I drew this card in a reading I did for myself awhile back, in which I was asking a question about how to make more money. In my case, I'm not really a loner, but I do feel okay about spending a lot of time alone if that is what life throws at me, and at the moment it has. I'm living in a very rural situation and don't have a lot of direct contact with people. I had just slipped into that lifestyle without giving it much thought. However, I knew the card was reminding me that I needed to get into circulation a bit more, if I wanted to earn more, which proved to be correct. So in my case, this card highlighted how my ability to manage on my own, while it's really a positive thing, wasn't working in my favour with regard to the question I asked in the reading.