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It's Wakes Monday!

8/9/2013

Today is Wakes Monday. Celebrated in parts of England, mostly the north, and much fallen into disuse now. However, it is still the date of a famous annual fixture in the calendar of traditions - the Abbots Bromley Horn Dance. This is a sort of morris dance performed by six men carrying reindeer antlers accompanied by several other mumming characters and musicians. No one is sure how old the dance is, but the reindeer antlers they use have been carbon dated to around 1050AD. It is unclear as to whether the dance is this old, or indeed it could be even older, some believe that these are actually replacement antlers. (Did they wear the first set out??) Another theory is that the hobby horse (one of the mumming characters involved) predates the horn dance element, which might have been added later. Yet another possibility is that the dance is a relic of some kind of shamanic rite which might stretch back into pre-history. I like that theory, but that doesn't make it true...

Meanwhile, I have just started reading a recently released book called Elen of the Ways, by Elen Sentier. So far I'm enjoying it. The quality of writing is high, and if the content is as good as I expect, look for a review of it on this blog in due course. Elen of the Ways is a female deer deity. In a typical display of synchronicity, I heard of her for the first time a couple of weeks ago, when someone referred me to a piece by historian Caroline Wise, also entitled Elen of the Ways, which references the Abbots Bromley Horn Dance. [Update: Caroline Wise published a book Finding Elen in 2015.]

Here's a nice documentary piece on the dance from BBC 4.

I also wanted to share a video of Thaxted Morris performing a possibly more traditional version of the dance. They dance to the old 19th century tune, which I think is very lovely. Although this tune was in use at Abbots Bromley for nearly a century, it is not as old as the dance, which has traditionally been done to "popular dance tunes of the day".

Finally, here is a link to a third video, not as well photographed as the first two, but rather evocative for being danced in a forest! This is Lord Conyers Morris Men. Like the Thaxted dancers, they appear to be carrying fallow deer antlers. Embedding is disabled on this one, so just click the link.

Happy Wakes Monday!
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If you enjoyed this post, you might also like Oss Oss!

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Dancing on Bridges

14/8/2013

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"My mother comes from a place called Masshill [County Sligo, Ireland] in the Ox Mountains, but, unfortunately, her immediate family had all moved away, mostly to England, by the time I was about three or four years old. However, I do remember several of the stories of the house dances that used to be held there and also of the summer's evening dances on the flat bridge over the Black River, just below the house. In later years I got to know some of the musicians who would have been playing at those dances... "
- Kevin Burke, November 2000

It was this chance description, in a booklet which accompanies his CD Sweeney's Dream, which originally informed my thinking about the Bridge card in my oracle deck. Not so long ago, bridges were popular meeting places, particularly on summer evenings - for trysts, for games, and because they were usually nice and flat, for dancing. It's easy to take bridges for granted, but they are important landmarks, making life much easier and linking communities.

Bridge - Merrymaking, flirtation and easy-going connections between individuals or communities.

This song from by Jack Dodd, from Newfoundland, describes similar memories.

On the Big River bridge on an evening in June
To enjoy the village dancing by the light of the moon
For the happy sound of laughter and the old time quadrille
Sure is among my happy memories of old Flatrock Hills

Now time it will change but the old bridge will stand
It's the same as when we stood there hand in hand
It's old stone foundation supporting itself
And the river still flows o'er the old Flatrock Hills

In a reading, this card might be there to remind us of the importance of connections, and not only for the more practical uses of commerce or travel, but also for the fun of coming together. Individuals easily become sour and stale without a bit of socialising, and communities falter without the influx of new blood from their neighbours.

One of my favourite examples of communities using a bridge is the annual meeting on the Wye bridge, which links Chepstow, in Wales, with the communities of Tutshill and Sedbury, in England around New Year. Wassailers from the English side and a Mari Lwyd party from the Welsh side meet mid-bridge for an exchange of cultural celebrations and partying. This link will take you to a video of the event. I've set it to begin at the meeting on the bridge, but the whole video is enjoyable, if you have time.

Wassail and Mari Lwyd on the Wye Bridge, Chepstow.

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Paying My Rent

18/6/2013

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Honouring Manannán at Midsummer

Midsummer is days away, and I'm having trouble mustering enthusiasm. I don't like the heat, and summers are very hot here is SE Colorado. However, I really want to "pay my rent" this year.

As you may know, there is an old tradition in the Isle of Man, of paying rent to Manannán mac Lir on Midsummer Eve. The rent? Just a bundle of rushes. That's the traditional rent he requires. I've spotted plenty of rushes growing along the road on the way into the local village, and I am planning to cut some and do something meaningful with them. I wondered about visiting one of the local lakes, but they are all reservoirs and there is a drought on. It might be a little depressing. We'll see. I might just go to my little "grove" here on the farm.

Barrule hill fort on the Isle of Man. A site associated with the rent paying tradition.

As I was poking around the internet looking for information about Manannán's Midsummer rites on the Isle of Man -- looking for inspiration, really -- I came across this wonderful poem on a blog called Stone of Destiny. It's by a fellow called Shaun Paul, who lives in Texas, and it expresses much in common with how I'm feeling. He has kindly allowed me to share it here.

...and the rent is due

I would bring him bundles of rushes from the waters edge.
Carry them by hand to the high place, stony Barrule, overlooking the sea.
For Midsummer Eve has come and Manannán awaits his payment.

Only, I am far from those shores.
Arid winds bend prairie grass like waves on an earthen sea,
I am stranded here, landlocked — and the rent is due.

Standing on the very brink of thundering wave and stone,
I have opened my arms, buoyed by winds sweeping from far Emain Ablach.
Lifted a moment, from the rocky cliff, like the Heron King taking flight.

I cling to memories of a rugged coast,
As I choke on the fumes of engines going nowhere.
I am stranded here, landlocked — and the rent is due.

As the rising tide sends plumes of white foam into the air,
The sea god’s wife approaches, her soothing kiss, lingering upon my cheek.
They call her Fand, which means “teardrop”, and she tastes like the sea.

We carry the ocean, like a memory, flowing within us.
Weeping, we give it back again, carried home on the Summer breeze.
I am stranded here, landlocked — and the rent is due.

- Shaun Paul

If you enjoyed this post you might also like The Hills of the Sky.

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One for sorrow, two for joy

6/5/2013

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One for sorrow
Two for joy
Three for a girl
Four for a boy
Five for silver
Six for gold
Seven for a secret
Never to be told

This rhyme about the Magpie is familiar to many. Perhaps a remnant of a very ancient lore of using birds to predict the future.

The Magpie may indicate seeing the future or altering it in an entirely "normal" way, as well as to deeper powers. Sometimes what is going to happen is just obvious, and sometimes we can do something about it. Because they are often seen in groups, the number of Magpies you see may be significant. However, if you only see one, there is a remedy. You must say something like "Good morning, Mr Magpie. I hope you are well, and that your wife is also in good health." This is supposed to dispel the bad luck. (However, I can tell you that I've seen every number of magpie, many times, and still haven't had any children!) So, you see that the magpie is associated with prediction, and also with being able to change what is going to happen. Isn't it interesting, too, that the thing which is required or us here is a kind word! "Seeing the future," is the reason many people turn to divination. Obviously, I believe it is a useful tool, but I strongly believe in our ability to alter the course of the future, also! Sometimes, having a better attitude to those we meet is a good place to start.

The Thieving Magpie by Dan Grzeca

The question of mistrust should not be taken as a value judgement. The Magpie is disliked because it eats the eggs and young of other birds. However, it would be a mistake to say that it is doing "wrong". This is the "right" behaviour for a magpie, who is doing exactly what it should be doing - behaving like a magpie! The other birds will not be happy about it, though! Sometimes, just being ourselves upsets people, and they have their right to avoid us, just as we have a right to express our nature. At the same time, being humans with a wide variety of options, we might like to consider whether we can be less hurtful in the process. Those who love songbirds are now concerned about the encroachment of Magpies into their garden. While their concern is legitimate, it has never seemed to me that it is the Magpies themselves who are out of balance. They are still just following their nature. It is the situation in which they find themselves which has altered. Ultimately, the card isn't about what the Magpie does, but how it is perceived by others.

If you enjoyed this note you might also like Rooks (It's a tribal thing)

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Rain Woman

31/3/2013

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The two short items here were a bit of synchronicity from my life yesterday. In the evening, I wrote the poem below. Then a little later, I happened upon this very interesting article about Dodola and Peperuda, a Slavic rain dancing tradition I'd never heard of. If you are fascinated by folk traditions, as I am, you might enjoy it. Here's a quote:

During a period of spring or summer drought, it was the custom in many Balkan villages for a group of local girls to undress and then put on various combinations of leaves, sprigs, blossoms, flowers and herbs to perform the rainmaking ceremony. Early reports, made mostly if not entirely by male observers, describe these girls as ‘naked’ under their clothing of greenery: although what precise degree of undress this ‘nakedness’ really constituted is a moot point, since none of the commentators is likely to have witnessed the actual disrobing, let alone the training, preparation or rehearsal of the girls for the ceremony – roles which seem to have been reserved exclusively for mature and sometimes elderly women. At any rate, led by an older girl or young woman who had also been dressed or decorated in this way, the girls then went in procession through their village, and stopped in front of houses to perform dances and sing songs, which included formulaic refrains, all the while calling upon the heavens to send down rain. The housewives poured water over the leader of the troupe, and sometimes the girls themselves sprinkled water over the courtyards, using bundles of sprigs and leaves. They were then rewarded by the householders with flour or food and sometimes money.

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A tonic for Spring

27/3/2013

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It used to be a common folk belief that in winter, as things slowed down, our blood got thicker. Then in the spring, it was a good idea to take a spring tonic to get the blood flowing freely again. While the belief about the blood is quite a comfortable one, it doesn't seem to have any basis in reality. However, the taking of a spring tonic is still not a bad idea. Early bitter herbs are a good choice, nettles and dandelions taste great, and of course, there's hawthorn. After all, in common with our ancestors, we tend to move less and eat more comfort foods in the winter, so when these things become available it's a good idea to get our digestion going properly, pep up our liver and improve our circulation.

Hawthorn as defined in my oracle

When hawthorn leaves are green and tender in the spring, people will sometimes munch on a few, or gather some to add to a salad. Animals are also attracted to them at this time. Equine herbalist Hilary Page Self recommends hawthorn for horses with both laminitis and navicular syndrome, because of its good effect on the circulation of blood to the feet. When I lived in Scotland it was common to see native ponies stuffing themselves on hawthorn leaves in spring. That was a good choice to follow, as it is in the spring that the lush grass is most likely to cause the metabolic upset that leads to laminitis - which is an extremely painful and potentially lethal condition.

As spring moves into May the hawthorn (also called May, or May tree) blooms. These blossoms were a traditional part of May Day celebrations, being used to deck the May queen and May king, Maypoles, and the entrances to houses. However, there is a well-known taboo against bringing hawthorn into the house, as it is believed that it brings death. In fact in some areas it is known by the name "dead man's froth". I always found this strange. Why would a flower associated with spring, fertility and health also be associated with death? Then I came across an essay by Paul Kendall on the wonderful Trees for Life website. The following passage offers a good explanation:

Mediaeval country folk also asserted that the smell of hawthorn blossom was just like the smell of the Great Plague in London. Botanists later discovered that the chemical trimethylamine present in hawthorn blossom is also one of the first chemicals formed in decaying animal tissue. In the past, when corpses would have been kept in the house for several days prior to burial, people would have been very familiar with the smell of death, so it is hardly surprising that hawthorn blossom was so unwelcome in the house. It has also been suggested that some of the hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna) folklore may have originated for the related woodland hawthorn (Crataegus laevigata) which may well have been commoner during the early Middle Ages, when a lot of plant folklore was evolving. Woodland hawthorn blossom gives off much more of an unpleasant scent of death soon after it is cut, and it also blooms slightly earlier than hawthorn, so that its blossoms would have been more reliably available for May Day celebrations.

Hawthorn has a strong association with fairies, particularly in the sense that the areas around some hawthorns were places prone to offer openings into the fairy otherworld. They are also the most common species among clootie trees, which although they are now mostly Christianised sometimes have fairy lore connected to them.

The Roman goddess Cardea had hawthorn as her sacred plant. How interesting that she was a goddess of doorways! I tend to think of the gods and goddesses of Rome in relation to the elite citizens of urban Rome, but Cardea must have been popular with the country folk, as remnants of belief in her seem to have survived at least into the 19th century in some parts of Italy and perhaps beyond. Usually this was in tales of ill or bewitched children being cured with charms of hawthorn hung outside their windows. It makes me wonder whether Europeans further west and in Britain also once had a goddess of hawthorn and/or thresholds. It was said that Cardea was able to "open that which was closed, and close that which was open."

The Door Into Summer
artist: Tina Marie Ferguson

Hawthorn in the form of agricultural hedges is, of course, used to enclose pastures and fields. A well laid and maintained hawthorn hedge is as stockproof as any barbed wire fence, but has many advantages beyond looking prettier. It provides a windbreak for the animals it contains, a source of medicine, and the haws (berries) are somewhat useful as a food, if not very tasty. The real benefit is to nature, though, in the form of food and shelter for many small animals, plants, birds and insects. It's no wonder that hawthorn is such a strong symbol of spring, fertility and the summer to come.

If you enjoyed this post, you might also like Thoughts on Hawthorn for May Day.

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A collection of eleven poems each touching on the spirit of the land. Enjoyable and challenging by turns. Love letters, eulogies, rants . . .

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What is a Glen

22/3/2013

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Solitude and loneliness

O do you see yon high hills
Covered o'er wi snaw
They hae pairted mony's the true love
And they'll soon pairt us twa
Busk, busk, bonnie lassie
Aye, and come awa wi me
And Ah'll tak ye tae Glenisla
Near bonnie Glen Shee

~ lyrics of a traditional Scots song

"Glen - Sanctuary. A home for the heart. Longing and isolation." That's the definition of the card known as Glen in my Go Deeper oracle deck. How can all these things be the meaning of one card? I expect some of my readers will intuitively understand this, but for others, it's a puzzle. I'm sure that there is a whole generation of people out there who have not heard of Hannah Hauxwell, and I'm not sure whether her fame really reached North America, either. (I've been away in fairyland for 25 years, remember!) So allow me to introduce this lady to you.

Hannah was born on a farm in 1926, in a part of the Teesdale area called Baldersdale, in Yorkshire. Although remote, during her youth Baldersdale was a thriving farming community, but like similar places everywhere, during and after WWII the population dwindled rapidly. The Hauxwells hung on, but the isolated lifestyle left Hannah a spinster, and after the death of her mother when Hannah was thirty-five, she ran her farm single-handed. She had few neighbours, no running water, well or electricity in the early 1970s when she was "discovered" by the late Barry Cockcroft of Yorkshire Television. He featured Hannah in a documentary about the hardships of Dales farmers called "Too Long a Winter". This film highlighted the challenges of hill farming in winter - a theme which runs through Hannah's story. But as well as the challenges of frozen water supplies and sheep buried in snow drifts, life in isolated glens in winter has a further difficulty. The increased isolation from friends and other communities alluded to in the song lyric above.

In the late 1980s, Hannah finally made the decision to sell her farm and move into a nearby village. The grace with which she made the change was a testament to her good sense and fortitude, although there was never any doubt that she would have preferred to stay on at her farm. Being a celebrity perhaps made this easier in some ways, but Hannah never seemed all that interested in that side of her life, and it was the sale of her farm and its furnishings that set her up in her new place. I recall hearing a radio interview with her a few years back, and she said that once the loose ends were tied up, she never went back to Baldersdale. There is sadness in that statement, and longing, and perhaps very great wisdom, too.

Hannah Hauxwell, Caroline McClung, Baldersdale

An excellent likeness of Hannah in her forties, painted by Caroline McClung.

I'm attached to the place because my family have lived here since my great-grandfather's time - no-one else has lived in this house since it was built, but our family. And the lovely countryside through the iron gate down the new road. I've often thought... It's my favourite walk, and I've stopped and looked, and I've thought that it's one thing - if I haven't money in my pocket, it's one thing nobody can rob me of. It's mine. It's mine for the taking.

The beauty - to me there's nowhere like it, never will be. And whatever I am, wherever I am, this is me. This is my life. And if there's a funny old person in years to come - a ghost walking up and down here - it'll be me. A big part of me, wherever I am, will be left here. That's me. There's nowhere else. There's nowhere like it.

- Hannah Hauxwell

Whether such a place contains a lively community or only one or two families, these remote valleys have a special character, and so do their people. There is no doubt that the lifestyle has much to offer. A daily engagement with nature, beautiful scenery and great quiet. Very often the homes are roomy and comfortable (if hard to heat!) and have long histories. Most neighbours are good neighbours but keep themselves to themselves, being busy with their own work.

It's been a long time, however, if it was ever the case at all, since people living in such places weren't self consciously aware that there was a wide and interesting world outside. This becomes particularly acute for teenagers and young adults. Whether they long to find a mate, or look for adventure, a career, or perhaps people with similar interests, the longing to leave arises. Many who do leave find this longing replaced, in a few years, with the longing to return. The snug home, the freedom and beauty seems not such a bad trade-off for the hardship and loneliness, after all.

View of Baldersdale

Hannah's Meadow

Hannah Hauxwell died in January 2018, aged 91. Part of the land she farmed has been designated a nature reserve, called Hannah's Meadow, due to the species rich grassland created by generations of natural, chemical-free farming practices. You can also read her autiobiography called Seasons of my Life.

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The waning moon and the clootie tree

28/2/2013

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While some folk practices in Britain may be on the wane, the tying of clooties is definitely increasing. Here, I explore adding the moon's pull to the process.

Tide rising, tide going out. Times of power and times of rest. More and more I'm thinking about the rhythm of my life - how to tie that in with the phases of the moon and with the wheel of the year. Sometimes our desire to bring new growth, new stuff and new adventures into our lives is very strong. Other times, it feels more important to get rid of some things. Negativity, pain, anger . . . you know. There are all kinds of techniques, spells, charms, or whatever you choose to call them, which can allow us to let go of things which aren't helping us. Have you ever thought about how the waning moon energy might help with that?

Dotted around the British Isles you can find trees, usually next to holy wells, called "clootie trees". In Scots a clootie is literally a cloth, whether a rag or an item of clothing. There is an old saying, "Ne'er cast a cloot 'til May is oot," meaning don't discard any items of winter clothing until the end of May, while a "clootie dumpling" is a pudding steamed in a tea towel or a piece of muslin. On these clootie trees you will see strips of cloth and ribbon, and even entire pieces of clothing at some locations, hung on the trees. These might be offerings of worship to some saint or deity, but at many trees the tradition is one of requesting the removal of illness or some other trouble. The idea is that as the cloth decays, so the problem will fade away.

I live in a very dry place where the chances of finding water at all, let alone a natural spring, are slim. However, I do have some beautiful cottonwood trees on my farm which have gotten their roots into enough water to grow very large. The energy around them is special to me, and without giving it much thought I spontaneously began tying the occasional clootie to them. Some are acts of worship, and others are requests to take things away.

While I know that it is traditional to work with the full moon, it is worth considering that it is actually only truly full for a moment, so I am trying something new, working with the waning gibbous moon. This time in the moon's phase is still bright and power-filled, but because it is also waning, I feel that the power of removal and decay is particularly present. If you have something that you want removed from your life, what better time to ask?

I like to write things on my strips of cloth. That might be the name of a deity - in which case I prefer to use something beautiful or precious like a favourite piece of ribbon, or it may be a word representing something I want to get rid of, in which case a strip torn from any old rag will do. Luckily, I'm in good health and I have not had to use this for illness, so I can't say what this kind of healing feels like for a physical ailment. In the case of other negative things I know that many of them are in my life because I resist letting go of them. This is particularly true with negative emotions and attitudes. What I seem to feel happening here is a kind of insistent reminder to work on the resistance itself, and perhaps a bit more resolve and strength to do that than I had before. If my clooties are aiding that process, then I think they are a great help.

You don't need me to walk you through this process step by step. If you like the idea, take it and make it your own. Do the things that will make it meaningful for you. Do what feels right. And may the waning moon assist you!

If you enjoyed this post, you might also like The New Moon another exploration of the possibilities of working with the moon.

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The Divine Connection of Water

15/2/2013

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Well - A pure source of deepest understanding and healing. A knowing beyond words. Divine connection.

I look at the words above, which form the definition of the card Well in the Go Deeper oracle, and I wonder what more there is to say. Water is such a wonder to me, in any form. To have it welling up out of the ground, unbidden, is surely a kind of miracle. I actually believe that all water is sacred - the dirty river, the stuff in a plastic bottle - even in all the places we fail to see the sacred, water is there. We are mostly water. The earth is mostly water. We may ignore, defile, dirty and desecrate the sacred, we may buy it and sell it and even imprison it, but it remains sacred.

Water is a divine connection. You only have to look at the myth of the well at the centre of the world, where the salmon of knowledge swim, where the hazel trees drop their purple nuts for the salmon to eat, to know that this is both a great metaphor and a truth that we understand instinctively as water beings. Every well is a tributary of the great well, and so it is natural for sacred energy, or sacred beings, to gravitate to these places, just as it's natural for humans and animals to do so. We are thirsty - but not just for H2O. Our souls are thirsty, too, as is our energetic body.

I'm sure you know that wells are associated with knowledge and wisdom, with healing, with divination and with the granting of requests. They are a place of power. Water that has been purified by the earth carries many important minerals. However, it must also have a special energy. Just how powerful the energetic memory of water might be is getting more interest these days among scientists. The following documentary is long, and I would be the first to suspect that it contains a fair dose of pseudo science. However, I believe that nevertheless, these scientists are following what Einstein said is most important - their intuition. There is immense food for thought here, and I really recommend taking the time to watch this, even if you consider one part or another of the whole to be questionable.

Just in case you didn't watch the video right away, it features a number of scientists who are doing research into the memory of water. Into how the molecular structure of water changes when it is influenced by all kinds of different things. Everything from human emotions to music to modern forms of water transportation and treatment are considered, and a few religious scholars and philosophers add in their thoughts along the way. The video constantly reminds us that not only is our existence defined by water, but that we have an influence over it. Perhaps that's why positive thinking works -- or prayer, or holy water and holy wells.

We know enough about how our world works to understand that water circulates. It evaporates and falls as rain, it works its way into the ground and comes up somewhere else as a spring, it flows down the sides of mountains to end up in the sea, where the process is repeated in an ancient cycle. To some extent, the scientists in the film tell us, water cleanses itself of the negative memories it acquires through things like freezing and evaporation. It wipes the slate clean. However, this also made me think that when we visit a holy well, when we bless food or drink (even the food contains water) when we bless the earth and when we bless ourselves and each other - we have the opportunity to connect with the divine in a way that is similar to that physical circulation of water. If the water heals us, perhaps this is also because we help to heal the water. If we lavish love and care on the earth and on her well-shrines, and other waters, we become part of a circulation of healing, of wisdom and knowledge, of love and gratitude.

Of all the Pagan practices that have survived many centuries of Christianity in Europe, the veneration and recourse to sacred wells is high on the list. The Roman church found it easiest to create new, saintly stories around these places, and let the traditions continue in slightly modified forms, but even in Scotland, with its long history of protestant Calvinism and accompanying concerns about "idolitry", sacred wells survived, and are visited to this day. What we perhaps lost, to some extent, was the worship and veneration, the gratitude for sacred energy that completes the circle of divine connection. In the past few centuries, the cultural climate might have been willing to allow a visit to a well to ask a favour or to say a prayer, but to be seen to be actively worshiping there was not always safe. In this way, as we moved into modern times, I think our culture perhaps lost a little of the best these places have to offer. The awe, the reverence, the holiness of these places was slowly replaced by a sense of a transaction. A place to tie a clootie, throw a coin, leave a bent pin. I am not making light of any of these traditions per se, so much as saying that there is potential, without worship, love and gratitude, without a sense of the two way working of the divine connection, to lose our place in all this.

The photograph on my oracle card is of a well I have visited a number of times. It's not in a secret place, and I have not heard that it is even dedicated to a saint or goddess, or that it has reputed healing properties. It is in a small village in a somewhat remote part of a modern, developed European country. The people who live there are well educated and in some ways enjoy the best of both the modern world and an idyllic rural lifestyle - though not without its challenges. Their instinctive care for this small well, and their continued use of it into the 21st century, when every house has modern plumbing and piped water, is a testament to a deep knowing that is still within us. We are not only connected to the divine, we are the divine, but we easily become disassociated from the wholeness of the divine. Visiting the Well is not only about drinking of her waters, but about returning gratitude to her.

Further reading:
Sacred Waters - Holy Wells by Mara Freeman
Holy Wells in Ireland by Mary Ellen Sweeney

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Rambles with the Mari Lwyd

31/12/2012

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Were there horse cults in ancient Britain? Is there a cohesive thread connecting Macha, Epona and Rhiannon to hobby horses, the Mari Lwyd and the Uffington horse?

Sometimes, many signposts seem to be directing us to a single destination. Yet, when we arrive there, we find it difficult to recognise any landmark as the definitive reality of the place we had intended to go. This may be one of those journeys.

I don't remember when I first heard about the Welsh Mari Lwyd tradition, but it has fascinated me ever since. For those who don't know, the Mari Lwyd is made by fixing a mare's skull to a pole. Usually elaborately decorated, the head is carried by a person hidden under a robe made from a white sheet or something similar. The Mari is accompanied by a party (traditionally of men and boys) who carry it from house to house, seeking admission. This is done through an elaborate, partly improvised, battle of wits in rhyme. Generally, the householders ultimately "lose" the contest, and the Mari party gain admission, where merriment, eating, drinking and music follow before the Mari moves on to the next house. The tradition has a lot in common with other wassailing and mumming traditions, many of which occur around midwinter. What strikes a chord with me is the horse connection.

Britain, Ireland and the Celtic world is rife with what appear to be remnants of a widespread horse cult or cults. I am only a very amateur historian, and I won't even attempt to draw concrete, historically "proven" connections between the many signs pointing in this direction. That's not to say that I will ignore what evidence and dating I understand, but rather to say that being who I am, and feeling what I feel, I will not ignore the empirical reality of my intuition, either.

Mari Lwyd, Horse of Frost, Star-horse, and White Horse of the Sea, is carried to us.
The Dead return.
Those Exiles carry her, they who seem holy and have put on corruption, they who seem corrupt and have put on holiness.
They strain against the door.
They strain towards the fire which fosters and warms the Living.

The Uffington white horse, a chalk hill figure of a horse in Oxfordshire, is around 3,000 years old. Around the same time, somewhat similar horse figures were popular on local coinage. A little later, the worship of the horse goddess Epona was popular in Gaul, and became widely adopted by the Roman Cavalry. The sun god Bel, or Belenos, and sea god Manannan mac Lir also had strong connections with horses. In Welsh mythology, Rhiannon is linked strongly with horses, as is her probably Gaulish cognate Rigantona. In Ireland, the goddess Macha is an important figure, and as late as the 12th century we have Geraldus Cambrensis relating the coronation of an Irish king including the requirement that he mate with a mare.

We bring from Cader Idris
And those ancient valleys,
Mari of your sorrows,
Queen of the starry fillies.

Meanwhile, in folklore we find a rich assortment of kelpies, njuggles, water horses, and other supernatural equines which lure people onto their backs and try to drown them. Then there are the hobby horses and other mumming horses found throughout Britain and Ireland. Are all these things related? It's just possible that they are not. It's just possible that only vaguely related peoples, in different times and places, have felt a fascination, a love, an awe and some fear connected with the horse, both as a natural being and a supernatural one. My personal gnossis says otherwise. Call it intuition or call it something else, I personally do not believe that this is all just one big coincidence. I choose to connect these things, and I choose to connect them knowing that I can't possibly fully understand their historical origins. I don't know the ancient rites which probably once accompanied the honouring of horse deities, and I don't know why people were so fascinated with the idea of malevolent horses bent on drowning the unsuspecting. Neither do I know what prompts people to put on highly stylised hobby horse costumes and dance ecstatically through Cornish streets on May Day, or why so many traditional mummers' plays include a person dressed as a horse. I don't know why I feel a strange reverence for these things when I meet them, either - but I definitely do.

Great light you shall gather,
For Mari here is holy;
She saw dark thorns harrow
Your God crowned with the holly

Mari Lwyd. What does it mean? Mari can be translated as both "mare" and "Mary". "Mare", in turn, as well as meaning a female horse, seems to refer also to creatures of the night, to incubi and to "nightmares". Lwyd means grey (or white or fair) and also pure or holy. A white horse is correctly referred to as "grey" because most white horses are born black or dark grey and their coats lighten with the passing years. (In Christian times white horses and other livestock were often kept by monastic orders as a way to distinguish their animals from those of the laity - who were forbidden from keeping them.) So Mari Lwyd can be interpreted as simply "grey mare" or holy mare, or as Holy (or fair) Mary - and part of the tradition surrounding her is the story that she represents a pregnant mare who was turned out of the Bethlehem stable to make way for Mary the mother of Christ to give birth. Whether this is a cipher for the replacement of the horse cult with Christianity is probably an open question.

Under the womb of teeming night
Our Mari tries your faith;
And She has Charity’s crown of light:
Spectre she knows and wraith;

Records of Mari Lwyd only go back to the 1790s, I'm told. However, since Wales was, at least at one level, a devoutly Christian country at this time, it's unlikely that the Welsh suddenly thought "Let's put a mare's head on a pole and pretend it's a magic horse," in the 1700s without a deeply rooted precedent. The Cornish 'obby 'oss tradition was recorded somewhat earlier, but it is still unlikely that it sprang into being fully formed just before someone thought it was worth writing about. The truth is, we don't know where these things came from, and we probably never will. In both traditions, there are aspects of wildness, of fertility rites, and of playfulness and energy raising activity. Things long associated with horses. Is this how early people perceived their horse deities? Did they dress up as horses to create a closer contact with these deities - to offer them a familiar looking form to inhabit or possess during some kind of ritual? Again - we don't know.

Mari Lwyd, Lwyd Mari:
A sacred thing through the night they carry.
Betrayed are the living, betrayed the dead:
All are confused by a horse’s head.

What you might feel when you see a horse, or when you see a Mari Lwyd is a very personal thing. There is your primal response, which should always be given its rightful place. You may find the appearance of a skull and a white sheet scary. The snapping jaws may give you nightmares. Of course, many people find themselves frightened by up close contact with a real horse, too! You may also feel awe or reverence - but I guarantee that you will feel something a little out of the ordinary!

O white is the frost on the breath-bleared panes
And the starlike fire within,
And our Mari is white in her starry reins
Starved through flesh and skin.
It is a skull we carry
In the ribbons of a bride.

And what of her snapping jaws? The snapping jaws of the Mari, of the hobby hoss who chases the maidens of Padstow to shrieks of fear and delight. Does this echo the strange beaked mouth of the Uffington horse - so often remarked at as being un-horse-like? Is it an accident that the Mari in her sheet so resembles Mary in her veil and robes? We are in goddess territory here, maybe in shaman territory, too. We are warm in the house, smugly awaiting the opportunity to be open-handed, and we are bone-cold at the window, desperate to gain admission to life inside. Perhaps we are required to know both realities.

Poetic quotes from Ballad of the Mari Lwyd by Vernon Watkins (1906 - 1967)

If you enjoyed this, you might also like Epona's Call.

I'm offering a six week online course about the horses goddesses starting in January!
This six week online class will explore the goddesses Epona, Macha, and Rhiannon in detail, as well as looking at the changing relationship between humans and horses. Like other classes I have taught, this series will feature a largely objective “academic” component, including some reading, and a talk from me each week, with time for questions.

In a departure from my usual approach, I will lead a short devotional to the horse goddesses and horse spirits at the end of each class session. I will do my best to create these in a way that should be comfortable for most anyone, but if students would like to excuse themselves from this part of the session, that is perfectly fine.

The course outline is available at this link.

Celtic Horse Goddess Course

Six-seek course meeting on

Saturday, January 9th, 16th, 23rd, 30th,

February 6th and 13th, 2021.

at 11am Pacific/2pm Eastern/7pm UK time.

75.00

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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!

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter, and never miss a blog post again. Newsletters are infrequent, and I promise never to share your details!

Honouring Manannán at Midsummer

Subscribe to my newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to limit newsletters to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!

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.

Subscribe to my newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to limit newsletters to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!

Solitude and loneliness

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.

While some folk practices in Britain may be on the wane, the tying of clooties is definitely increasing. Here, I explore adding the moon's pull to the process.

Were there horse cults in ancient Britain? Is there a cohesive thread connecting Macha, Epona and Rhiannon to hobby horses, the Mari Lwyd and the Uffington horse?

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!

Archives

Categories

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.

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.