The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly wears the crown.
“The Holly and The Ivy”, traditional British Carol
From the end of October, until the first of January, you can’t walk into a store or a public place without being inundated with “Christmas Music”. Its quite often modern music (written in the 20th or 21st Century) and almost always badly played. It reverberates in our ears, the tinny dissonance of midi recordings or “Smooth Jazz” renditions and we are so overwhelmed by it that we are forced to tune it out just to survive.
I dearly love Christmas music. It has always been the ultimate expression of the season, songs that are put up as a shield against the darkness of the winter, a cry for the return of Light. I sang them as a child and listened to them on the radio and the record player until my parents thought that they would murder me. By the time I was 12 I had memorized all the verses of all the really popular ones (both modern and traditional) and begun to try and dig up more obscure ones. Then, in my early 20s, I did a spate of working in retail. It almost killed my love of Christmas Carols forever.
The traditional music of the season became background noise to be ignored. It lost its beauty and power. I no longer wanted to sing or even listen to anything connected to the holiday season, in large part because I had to listen to the awful renditions that were piped into the store, hour after hour.
Today, I have reclaimed my love of carols. I find I have little time for more modern songs of the season, but give me “Ther Is No Ros” or “Silent Night” or “The Gower Wassail” and I’m a happy person. And after many years in the Historical Dance community, I’ve found delight in dancing to a few carols as well**. I sang my baby son to sleep with the Coventry Carol and the Christ Child’s Lullaby. I own dozens of Christmas albums and take them out at the holidays to enjoy the music they provide.
How did I recapture that love? To start off, I stopped listening to holiday music at any other time but the holidays. I don’t take out my Christmas albums until the 1st of December and I retire them on the 1st of January. Second, I got picky about the arrangements I choose. I listen to things before I buy and I choose music that I know I’ll like. Since my interests lie in Early Music and Celtic Music, that’s the direction I look in. I tend to stay away from more modern Holiday tunes and performers unless I have a good reason (ie I bought Sting’s holiday album, but I knew about 30% of what was on it and I trusted for the rest, given his current interest in Early Music and my knowledge of the other performers listed). I don’t listen to the radio during the holidays. Its all pop Holiday music and it bores me to tears. I pick music I like to sing and I definitely sing along at every opportunity. That wasn’t something I was allowed to do when working retail. And I incorporate the music into our holiday traditions. We watch the Nutcracker on the evening of the 23rd, we listen to the Messiah on Christmas afternoon. When we trim the tree we listen to Revels CDs, when we drive to Cleveland to see friends over New Years, we most often have the Dr. Demento Holiday CD on, etc.
This year, getting into the holiday season has been particularly difficult. Our family has hit some tough financial times, making celebrating tougher than usual. We will make it through, but it means cutting back on things we love and making do with much, much less. But having holiday music is helping. And I’m hoping by the time the Solstice rolls around, I’ll be out of my blue funk and ready to do ritual, trim the tree and be festive.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’m going to put a plug in at this point. If you are interested in Winter Holiday music and traditions, I cannot recommend the recordings by the various Revels organizations enough. Their website has recordings and song books for sale as well as contacts for the various Revels groups across the country. I haven’t been to a show in a decade but I still remember the ones I attended with great love. These organizations have gone a long way towards bringing back my love of the season and reconnecting current Christmas traditions with their pre-Christian roots.
*A carol is defined as a festive song, generally religious but not necessarily connected with church worship.
**Carols were originally dances with words sung in complement. None of the dance done in the Medieval period survive, but several 18th and 19th century carol and hymn writers used dance tunes (extant dances) for their carols. The best examples of this are “Ding Dong Merrily on High” that uses the tune of “Le Branle de l’Offical” from the 1500s and “Masters in This Hall” that used a tune by French composer Marin Marais (1656-1728) to which the English Country Dance “Female Saylor” is also set.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Oak Moon*
Live thy Life,
Young and old,
Like yon oak,
Bright in spring,
Living gold;
Summer-rich
Then; and then
Autumn-changed
Soberer-hued
Gold again.
All his leaves
Fall'n at length,
Look, he stands,
Trunk and bough
Naked strength.
- The Oak by Alfred Lord Tennyson
We are now in the month of the Oak Moon. The oak tree that stands in our neighbor’s front yard has shed all its leaves (too late for the last of our county leaf pick-ups) and its bare branches reach to the sky. Our front lawn is still littered with acorns and the squirrels are busy stocking their winter stores. Oaks are endangered in our neighborhood, they are all suffering from a vascular disease that slowly strangles the tree, limb by limb. The oak next our garage is almost dead. It was scheduled to be taken down this year but the county ran out of funds before they got to it. We may lose it this winter to heavy snow or next summer to the tree surgeon. Either way, its days are numbered. I’m hoping I can recover a mostly healthy limb when it finally comes down to make a wand.
I have always loved oak trees. They are sacred to My Lady and to at least one of the Gods in my personal pantheon. And, I suppose, there is a mystery about them. I grew up with a yard full of locusts and silver maples, but I longed for just one oak. To have deep brown leaves fall in the autumn to mix with the golden yellow of the other trees. I was so happy when we moved to our current house and there were oaks all around. I’ve always felt the Oak was the King of Trees, to stand beside the Willow as the Queen. My own tree sign** is Coll, the Hazel, but we don’t have any in the area we live in and despite its legendary wisdom, it’s never really called to me.
To me the oak has always stood for power. It’s a warrior tree in my mind and a magic tree too. Its Celtic name, Duir, means door and there are legends that the oak was a doorway to the underworld or other world. Mistletoe, the Druid’s most sacred plant, grew on oaks and made them truly special. What is more appealing than the image a tiny faerie crowned with an acorn cap? There is such hidden power in the Oak, if we only remembered how to tap it.
I’ll be sad to see our oak go, even though I can never really remember it being a healthy tree. When we finally lose it, it will be the end of an era. Maybe our oak’s passing is a symbol of a part of my life passing and when it finally falls, it will be a doorway that opens on the next journey. The county will require us to replace the tree once it’s been removed. Perhaps we should put a hazel in instead...
*This moon name comes from the English Medieval naming tradition and I have chosen it because I connect this month with the rise of the Oak King. Other common names are Christmas Moon, Snow Moon and Long Night Moon.
**The Celts used a memory system related to trees which in modern times has become associated with a zodiac of tree months, thanks in large part to Robert Graves, who connected the “Tree Alphabet” to Ogham script.
Young and old,
Like yon oak,
Bright in spring,
Living gold;
Summer-rich
Then; and then
Autumn-changed
Soberer-hued
Gold again.
All his leaves
Fall'n at length,
Look, he stands,
Trunk and bough
Naked strength.
- The Oak by Alfred Lord Tennyson
We are now in the month of the Oak Moon. The oak tree that stands in our neighbor’s front yard has shed all its leaves (too late for the last of our county leaf pick-ups) and its bare branches reach to the sky. Our front lawn is still littered with acorns and the squirrels are busy stocking their winter stores. Oaks are endangered in our neighborhood, they are all suffering from a vascular disease that slowly strangles the tree, limb by limb. The oak next our garage is almost dead. It was scheduled to be taken down this year but the county ran out of funds before they got to it. We may lose it this winter to heavy snow or next summer to the tree surgeon. Either way, its days are numbered. I’m hoping I can recover a mostly healthy limb when it finally comes down to make a wand.
I have always loved oak trees. They are sacred to My Lady and to at least one of the Gods in my personal pantheon. And, I suppose, there is a mystery about them. I grew up with a yard full of locusts and silver maples, but I longed for just one oak. To have deep brown leaves fall in the autumn to mix with the golden yellow of the other trees. I was so happy when we moved to our current house and there were oaks all around. I’ve always felt the Oak was the King of Trees, to stand beside the Willow as the Queen. My own tree sign** is Coll, the Hazel, but we don’t have any in the area we live in and despite its legendary wisdom, it’s never really called to me.
To me the oak has always stood for power. It’s a warrior tree in my mind and a magic tree too. Its Celtic name, Duir, means door and there are legends that the oak was a doorway to the underworld or other world. Mistletoe, the Druid’s most sacred plant, grew on oaks and made them truly special. What is more appealing than the image a tiny faerie crowned with an acorn cap? There is such hidden power in the Oak, if we only remembered how to tap it.
I’ll be sad to see our oak go, even though I can never really remember it being a healthy tree. When we finally lose it, it will be the end of an era. Maybe our oak’s passing is a symbol of a part of my life passing and when it finally falls, it will be a doorway that opens on the next journey. The county will require us to replace the tree once it’s been removed. Perhaps we should put a hazel in instead...
*This moon name comes from the English Medieval naming tradition and I have chosen it because I connect this month with the rise of the Oak King. Other common names are Christmas Moon, Snow Moon and Long Night Moon.
**The Celts used a memory system related to trees which in modern times has become associated with a zodiac of tree months, thanks in large part to Robert Graves, who connected the “Tree Alphabet” to Ogham script.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Cailleach
I sing you of the Old Maid*
With gold upon her toe
Open up the west door
And let the old year go.
I sing you of the Fair Maid
With gold upon her chin
Open up the east door
And let the new year in.
-a personal adaptation of the second and third verses of the New Years Carol, a British Traditional Folk Carol
The solstice is mere weeks away and for Anglo-Celtic Pagans, we are firmly in the realm of our Germanic ancestors. With their boisterous lifestyles and strong male deities, its little wonder that the Winter Solstice and its successor holiday, Christmas, has become dominating by a strong sense of masculine power. After all, we are celebrating the rebirth of solar light, which in many ancient pantheons, fell under the auspices of a God.**
Christmas has always been my favorite Christian holiday and as I began to transfer so many of the traditions I love about Christmas to their older roots on the Solstice, I became aware of just how male dominated the holiday is***. The Goddess has only a small part, as the Divine Mother of the Sun (or Son). Perhaps her absence comes from the idea that, as a manifestation of the Earth, she sleeps through the winter and doesn’t actively participate in festivals at that time. I’m not sure, but for some time it bothered me. I also find it hard to honor her as a Mother when the Earth’s growth cycle is in its fallow time.
For me, the winter is the time of the Crone. Most specifically, it the time of the Cailleach, the White Hag of the Mountains. She is a Celtic deity, said to haunt the peaks of western Scotland in the winter, herding deer, and bringing strong winter storms. And she is intimately connected to Brighid, my matron deity. Many scholars think that they were considered, at least in Scotland, to be the same Goddess, representing winter and summer aspects. There is at least one legend that claims that the Cailleach locked Brighid away in a mountain cave on Samhain, keeping her hidden away until Beltaine.**** She is the face of the Crone that calls to me more strongly than any other, and in my mind, she is the very heart of winter.
So how do I marry the vague, life giving Goddess who births the Sun and the Storm Hag who carries nature’s fury behind Her like a cloak? It took me a long time, but I eventually had to come back to the cycles of the Earth. Just as the time between Samhain and Yule is a time that the Goddess walks the world alone, so does the God hold solitary sway over the days between Yule and Imbolc. This balances the year nicely and allows for rebirth for both Deities.
The Goddess, the Mother, carries the burden of the earth’s fertility throughout the growing season and the harvest. Weary from Her long burden, She fades to the Crone, worn, as all mothers are, by the task of parenting. Her weary steps over the world bring an end to the harvest time and beginning of the long dark time. Behind her come the cold winds of winter. At Solstice, She births the infant Sun, and as He rises in the sky, She retreats underground, to rest from Her tasks and to grow young again. When Spring comes again, She will come back to us, a Maiden, to join the youthful Sun in bringing new life back to the world.
So as I honor the newborn Sun on Solstice morning, I will also remember to thank the Goddess, for carrying Her burden for so long. I will wish Her a peaceful, healing sleep, just as I ask Her for the same each night. And I will wait with great anticipation for Her return in the Spring.
*I have changed the more traditional Fair Maid to Old Maid, since it fits my view of the Goddess at the time of the Solstice.
**But not, interestingly enough, the Nordic/Germanic pantheon. While their light deity was male, Baldur, their physical sun was female, Sunna.
*** I am not and have never been a Dianic or Goddess-only Pagan. I left Christianity because it lacked a female divine aspect and I have a strong desire for gender balance in my religious tradition. I do know many Dianics who happily celebrate Yule without the God, but that’s not my bag.
**** I’ve chosen to change this myth somewhat in my own practice, saying instead the Brighid is locked away on Lughnassa, when the Harvest season begins, and returns to the world on Imbolc.
With gold upon her toe
Open up the west door
And let the old year go.
I sing you of the Fair Maid
With gold upon her chin
Open up the east door
And let the new year in.
-a personal adaptation of the second and third verses of the New Years Carol, a British Traditional Folk Carol
The solstice is mere weeks away and for Anglo-Celtic Pagans, we are firmly in the realm of our Germanic ancestors. With their boisterous lifestyles and strong male deities, its little wonder that the Winter Solstice and its successor holiday, Christmas, has become dominating by a strong sense of masculine power. After all, we are celebrating the rebirth of solar light, which in many ancient pantheons, fell under the auspices of a God.**
Christmas has always been my favorite Christian holiday and as I began to transfer so many of the traditions I love about Christmas to their older roots on the Solstice, I became aware of just how male dominated the holiday is***. The Goddess has only a small part, as the Divine Mother of the Sun (or Son). Perhaps her absence comes from the idea that, as a manifestation of the Earth, she sleeps through the winter and doesn’t actively participate in festivals at that time. I’m not sure, but for some time it bothered me. I also find it hard to honor her as a Mother when the Earth’s growth cycle is in its fallow time.
For me, the winter is the time of the Crone. Most specifically, it the time of the Cailleach, the White Hag of the Mountains. She is a Celtic deity, said to haunt the peaks of western Scotland in the winter, herding deer, and bringing strong winter storms. And she is intimately connected to Brighid, my matron deity. Many scholars think that they were considered, at least in Scotland, to be the same Goddess, representing winter and summer aspects. There is at least one legend that claims that the Cailleach locked Brighid away in a mountain cave on Samhain, keeping her hidden away until Beltaine.**** She is the face of the Crone that calls to me more strongly than any other, and in my mind, she is the very heart of winter.
So how do I marry the vague, life giving Goddess who births the Sun and the Storm Hag who carries nature’s fury behind Her like a cloak? It took me a long time, but I eventually had to come back to the cycles of the Earth. Just as the time between Samhain and Yule is a time that the Goddess walks the world alone, so does the God hold solitary sway over the days between Yule and Imbolc. This balances the year nicely and allows for rebirth for both Deities.
The Goddess, the Mother, carries the burden of the earth’s fertility throughout the growing season and the harvest. Weary from Her long burden, She fades to the Crone, worn, as all mothers are, by the task of parenting. Her weary steps over the world bring an end to the harvest time and beginning of the long dark time. Behind her come the cold winds of winter. At Solstice, She births the infant Sun, and as He rises in the sky, She retreats underground, to rest from Her tasks and to grow young again. When Spring comes again, She will come back to us, a Maiden, to join the youthful Sun in bringing new life back to the world.
So as I honor the newborn Sun on Solstice morning, I will also remember to thank the Goddess, for carrying Her burden for so long. I will wish Her a peaceful, healing sleep, just as I ask Her for the same each night. And I will wait with great anticipation for Her return in the Spring.
*I have changed the more traditional Fair Maid to Old Maid, since it fits my view of the Goddess at the time of the Solstice.
**But not, interestingly enough, the Nordic/Germanic pantheon. While their light deity was male, Baldur, their physical sun was female, Sunna.
*** I am not and have never been a Dianic or Goddess-only Pagan. I left Christianity because it lacked a female divine aspect and I have a strong desire for gender balance in my religious tradition. I do know many Dianics who happily celebrate Yule without the God, but that’s not my bag.
**** I’ve chosen to change this myth somewhat in my own practice, saying instead the Brighid is locked away on Lughnassa, when the Harvest season begins, and returns to the world on Imbolc.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Advent
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought for you are not ready for thought.
So the darkness shall be light, and the stillness the dancing.
T S Eliot, "East Coker," Four Quartets
Thanksgiving, with all its glorious gluttony, has passed and we have endured Black Friday and “Cyber Monday”, with their extreme deals and orgies of shopping. Most malls had the their decorations up in mid-October. They barely waited until the Halloween-themed goodies were on special before starting up the Christmas music and the red and green staff outfits. I am already caught between the disgust of overwhelming “holiday cheer” and the panic of knowing that I have 7 adults and 3 kids in the family to produce presents for on a limited budget and any number of friends who deserve holiday surprises as well. Most things have to be mailed and I’m already behind. This is not the way I remember the holidays from my childhood. This is not how I want my son to remember them either.
Christmas was always a favorite holiday in our house. And the lead up to the holiday was as important as the holiday itself. The season always started with a party at church on the first Sunday of Advent. We sang the first verse of “O Come Emanuel” and made our yearly Advent wreath (and hoped we would be able to keep the candles upright and not set it on fire). The wreath lived at the center of the dining room table until the Sunday after Christmas, getting drier and more flammable with every passing day. Each Sunday we would light a new candle and sing a new verse of the hymn in church, watching the weeks pass by.
There were visits to Santa, packages arriving by mail, rehearsals for the Christmas pageant , either at school or at church or both. While my grandmother was alive, there was a gingerbread house every year, that arrived a week before Christmas and sat, untouched and admired, until Christmas Day. And there were Advent calendars. Sometimes we had the kinds with pictures, sometimes we had ones with chocolates and one memorable year, we had one that had tiny ornaments inside. They sat on the mantle and we dutifully opened one door each evening before bed, to reveal what was inside. It was magical and important and hopeful.
Today, the holidays inundate us from Halloween until New Year’s. We can’t seem to escape them. There are TV commercials and TV specials and civic decorations. People put inflatable Santas and snowmen on their lawns. I even saw a light-up pig dressed in a Santa outfit at Sears over the weekend. Everything is covered with lights the day after Thanksgiving and stays that way until the day after New Year’s. And I can’t help wondering, with Christmas dominating our every waking moment (even if you don't celebrate it), what happened to Advent?
I’m not Christian anymore, but that doesn’t make Advent any less important. Whether you are Christian or Pagan or Jewish, we are all waiting for the Light to return. We are seeking the miracle of rebirth in the dead of winter, that hope of Peace on Earth. And a season of Advent is the gentle ramping up to joy. It is the slow climb of anticipation and it is missing from our on-demand world. The modern Christmas song that says “We need a little Christmas, right this very minute,” is the anthem of a world that has forgotten to appreciate the power of patience.
My family won’t be decorating any time soon. I was raised with the more British tradition of trimming the tree and decorating the house on Christmas Eve and leaving those decorations in place until Twelfth Night. And for now, that tradition will remain in place. Once we are no longer sharing living space with my mother, we will most likely switch our decoration day to the Solstice, to include both holidays in the celebration. We will wait and let the anticipation build. An advent wreath is out the question with a 3 year old in the house, but this year we will do some kind of advent calendar. Something he can open each night and see the tiny miracle inside. And hopefully it will help him understand that we are all waiting for the greater miracle, right around the corner.
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought for you are not ready for thought.
So the darkness shall be light, and the stillness the dancing.
T S Eliot, "East Coker," Four Quartets
Thanksgiving, with all its glorious gluttony, has passed and we have endured Black Friday and “Cyber Monday”, with their extreme deals and orgies of shopping. Most malls had the their decorations up in mid-October. They barely waited until the Halloween-themed goodies were on special before starting up the Christmas music and the red and green staff outfits. I am already caught between the disgust of overwhelming “holiday cheer” and the panic of knowing that I have 7 adults and 3 kids in the family to produce presents for on a limited budget and any number of friends who deserve holiday surprises as well. Most things have to be mailed and I’m already behind. This is not the way I remember the holidays from my childhood. This is not how I want my son to remember them either.
Christmas was always a favorite holiday in our house. And the lead up to the holiday was as important as the holiday itself. The season always started with a party at church on the first Sunday of Advent. We sang the first verse of “O Come Emanuel” and made our yearly Advent wreath (and hoped we would be able to keep the candles upright and not set it on fire). The wreath lived at the center of the dining room table until the Sunday after Christmas, getting drier and more flammable with every passing day. Each Sunday we would light a new candle and sing a new verse of the hymn in church, watching the weeks pass by.
There were visits to Santa, packages arriving by mail, rehearsals for the Christmas pageant , either at school or at church or both. While my grandmother was alive, there was a gingerbread house every year, that arrived a week before Christmas and sat, untouched and admired, until Christmas Day. And there were Advent calendars. Sometimes we had the kinds with pictures, sometimes we had ones with chocolates and one memorable year, we had one that had tiny ornaments inside. They sat on the mantle and we dutifully opened one door each evening before bed, to reveal what was inside. It was magical and important and hopeful.
Today, the holidays inundate us from Halloween until New Year’s. We can’t seem to escape them. There are TV commercials and TV specials and civic decorations. People put inflatable Santas and snowmen on their lawns. I even saw a light-up pig dressed in a Santa outfit at Sears over the weekend. Everything is covered with lights the day after Thanksgiving and stays that way until the day after New Year’s. And I can’t help wondering, with Christmas dominating our every waking moment (even if you don't celebrate it), what happened to Advent?
I’m not Christian anymore, but that doesn’t make Advent any less important. Whether you are Christian or Pagan or Jewish, we are all waiting for the Light to return. We are seeking the miracle of rebirth in the dead of winter, that hope of Peace on Earth. And a season of Advent is the gentle ramping up to joy. It is the slow climb of anticipation and it is missing from our on-demand world. The modern Christmas song that says “We need a little Christmas, right this very minute,” is the anthem of a world that has forgotten to appreciate the power of patience.
My family won’t be decorating any time soon. I was raised with the more British tradition of trimming the tree and decorating the house on Christmas Eve and leaving those decorations in place until Twelfth Night. And for now, that tradition will remain in place. Once we are no longer sharing living space with my mother, we will most likely switch our decoration day to the Solstice, to include both holidays in the celebration. We will wait and let the anticipation build. An advent wreath is out the question with a 3 year old in the house, but this year we will do some kind of advent calendar. Something he can open each night and see the tiny miracle inside. And hopefully it will help him understand that we are all waiting for the greater miracle, right around the corner.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Sitting Shift
Fall on your knees
Open your eyes
And admit Brighid.
Welcome, Welcome to the Holy Woman!
-Threshold Rite performed in Ireland on the feast of St. Brigit
Tonight I pray to my Lady and ask her special blessing on all those who heal: doctors, nurses, midwives, chiropractors, herbalist, therapists, researchers and clergy, among others. May the universe bless all who look after our minds, bodies and spirits.
Open your eyes
And admit Brighid.
Welcome, Welcome to the Holy Woman!
-Threshold Rite performed in Ireland on the feast of St. Brigit
Tonight I pray to my Lady and ask her special blessing on all those who heal: doctors, nurses, midwives, chiropractors, herbalist, therapists, researchers and clergy, among others. May the universe bless all who look after our minds, bodies and spirits.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Happy Thanksgiving
"The year has turned its circle,
The seasons come and go.
The harvest all is gathered in
And chilly north winds blow.
Orchards have shared their treasures,
The fields, their yellow grain,
So open wide the doorway-
Thanksgiving comes again!"
- from the Garden Digest website
The seasons come and go.
The harvest all is gathered in
And chilly north winds blow.
Orchards have shared their treasures,
The fields, their yellow grain,
So open wide the doorway-
Thanksgiving comes again!"
- from the Garden Digest website
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
I Arise Today: Morning Devotions
I arise today
Through the strength of heaven
Light of sun
Radiance of moon
Splendor of fire
Speed of lightning
Swiftness of wind
Depth of the sea
Stability of earth
Firmness of rock
-verse 1 of “The Deer’s Cry”, lyrics attributed to St. Patrick, arranged by Shaun Davey for his suite “The Pilgrim”*
It’s cold outside, but not freezing. But I’m not a morning person and the idea of dragging myself out of bed and into clothes so I can go outside to pray is just a bit more than I can handle with winter approaching. My husband is up and out the door by 7:15 am for his hour-long commute and I struggle to get myself in gear before my son misses his morning potty call and I end up changing the sheets. Getting him up and dressed is my first job of the day, followed shortly by getting him fed. And given that he is a champion at stalling tactics, these tasks often occupy me until almost 9:30 in the morning. But then he settles down to watch his morning TV on our local PBS station and I have time to myself. So I start my day with prayer.
I didn’t think much about prayer when I first joined the Pagan community 20 years ago. I was very involved in ritual work but couldn’t seem to connect on a more personal level. I had the same problem with Christianity, so it wasn’t surprising. I still have troubles being a solitary; and I’m not sure if it is a difficulty connecting personally or that I simply need group dynamics and group energy to fuel my worship. Anyway, I spent a goodly chunk of time writing group rituals and ignoring that more personal expression. I think I would have stayed in that place, if it hadn’t been for a string of negative events, personal, financial and professional, about 8 years ago. I ended up in a downward spiral and, as part of my struggles to pull myself back up, I began to pray on a regular basis.
I began with evening prayers, since that is a the time when I am most active, both physically and mentally, and eventually added a morning devotion as well. I chose to use the Celtic Devotional: Daily Prayers and Blessings, an ecumenical Celtic-themed devotional by well-known Celtic scholar Caitlin Matthews**. I dearly love this little book and have used it repeatedly over they years. My copy is dog-eared and the binding is broken. It’s set up by Celtic season (Samhain, Imbolc, Beltaine, and Lughnassa) and then by day of the week. Over time, I replaced the more ecumenical meditations with more Pagan and Goddess influenced ones from various other meditation collections*** and for a year that worked well for me.
After our move to California, I stopped my devotions for a number of reasons, mostly a lack of time and private space. For 2 years I struggled to find a balance in our new surroundings and eventually, another string of bad luck, that included a fire in our apartment building, brought me back to my devotions again. By this time, I had begun actively serving the Goddess Brighid and so I added two more pieces to my daily prayers: The Deer’s Cry, that begins this entry, and an adapted version of an old Irish prayer, the Genealogy of Brigit. I used this formula for over a year, until my son was born, when again I fell away from it.
Now, as part of my campaign of positive habits, I’m starting again. But this time I’m taking a different tack. I’ve started simply, with morning devotions; singing The Deer’s Cry and saying the Genealogy, before doing a short reading from A Daily Book of Pagan Prayer by Megan Day. Over the next several months I’m hoping to ramp up my devotional time by adding an evening prayer time and some structure, using The Book of Hours: Prayers to the Goddess by Galen Gillotte****. It is my hope that six months from now, I will have fully integrated a time of prayer into the beginning and ending of my day and that I can share some of that prayer time with my son. I know he won’t understand everything that I do, but I hope that by being exposed to my own signs of devotion, they will become something he seeks when he gets older and is ready to make a choice about his own religious path.
And as I light my candle and sing my praises to the morning sun, I find myself at peace again and ready to face whatever challenges the Universe has to throw at me. I hope that I am achieving balance, not just for myself but for my small corner of the world. By sending out good thoughts and positive energy into the world, I’m making it just a little bit better for all of us. And that makes my early mornings well worth the effort.
*For those interested in hearing this sung, there is a purely audio file here and a video on Youtube here. These are of the unadapted version of the prayer. I have put together a Brighid-centered adaptation which I will be happy to send to anyone who requests it.
**For a Celtic Christian themed devotional, try Celtic Benediction: Morning and Night Prayer by J. Philip Newell.
***I used The Celtic Spirit: Daily Meditations for the Turning Year, also by Caitlin Matthews and Patricia Telesco’s 365 Goddess.
****For those seeking a balanced view, Mr. Gillotte has also published a Book of Hours devoted to the God which can be found here. I hope to integrate a mid-day devotion from this book into my practice as well.
Through the strength of heaven
Light of sun
Radiance of moon
Splendor of fire
Speed of lightning
Swiftness of wind
Depth of the sea
Stability of earth
Firmness of rock
-verse 1 of “The Deer’s Cry”, lyrics attributed to St. Patrick, arranged by Shaun Davey for his suite “The Pilgrim”*
It’s cold outside, but not freezing. But I’m not a morning person and the idea of dragging myself out of bed and into clothes so I can go outside to pray is just a bit more than I can handle with winter approaching. My husband is up and out the door by 7:15 am for his hour-long commute and I struggle to get myself in gear before my son misses his morning potty call and I end up changing the sheets. Getting him up and dressed is my first job of the day, followed shortly by getting him fed. And given that he is a champion at stalling tactics, these tasks often occupy me until almost 9:30 in the morning. But then he settles down to watch his morning TV on our local PBS station and I have time to myself. So I start my day with prayer.
I didn’t think much about prayer when I first joined the Pagan community 20 years ago. I was very involved in ritual work but couldn’t seem to connect on a more personal level. I had the same problem with Christianity, so it wasn’t surprising. I still have troubles being a solitary; and I’m not sure if it is a difficulty connecting personally or that I simply need group dynamics and group energy to fuel my worship. Anyway, I spent a goodly chunk of time writing group rituals and ignoring that more personal expression. I think I would have stayed in that place, if it hadn’t been for a string of negative events, personal, financial and professional, about 8 years ago. I ended up in a downward spiral and, as part of my struggles to pull myself back up, I began to pray on a regular basis.
I began with evening prayers, since that is a the time when I am most active, both physically and mentally, and eventually added a morning devotion as well. I chose to use the Celtic Devotional: Daily Prayers and Blessings, an ecumenical Celtic-themed devotional by well-known Celtic scholar Caitlin Matthews**. I dearly love this little book and have used it repeatedly over they years. My copy is dog-eared and the binding is broken. It’s set up by Celtic season (Samhain, Imbolc, Beltaine, and Lughnassa) and then by day of the week. Over time, I replaced the more ecumenical meditations with more Pagan and Goddess influenced ones from various other meditation collections*** and for a year that worked well for me.
After our move to California, I stopped my devotions for a number of reasons, mostly a lack of time and private space. For 2 years I struggled to find a balance in our new surroundings and eventually, another string of bad luck, that included a fire in our apartment building, brought me back to my devotions again. By this time, I had begun actively serving the Goddess Brighid and so I added two more pieces to my daily prayers: The Deer’s Cry, that begins this entry, and an adapted version of an old Irish prayer, the Genealogy of Brigit. I used this formula for over a year, until my son was born, when again I fell away from it.
Now, as part of my campaign of positive habits, I’m starting again. But this time I’m taking a different tack. I’ve started simply, with morning devotions; singing The Deer’s Cry and saying the Genealogy, before doing a short reading from A Daily Book of Pagan Prayer by Megan Day. Over the next several months I’m hoping to ramp up my devotional time by adding an evening prayer time and some structure, using The Book of Hours: Prayers to the Goddess by Galen Gillotte****. It is my hope that six months from now, I will have fully integrated a time of prayer into the beginning and ending of my day and that I can share some of that prayer time with my son. I know he won’t understand everything that I do, but I hope that by being exposed to my own signs of devotion, they will become something he seeks when he gets older and is ready to make a choice about his own religious path.
And as I light my candle and sing my praises to the morning sun, I find myself at peace again and ready to face whatever challenges the Universe has to throw at me. I hope that I am achieving balance, not just for myself but for my small corner of the world. By sending out good thoughts and positive energy into the world, I’m making it just a little bit better for all of us. And that makes my early mornings well worth the effort.
*For those interested in hearing this sung, there is a purely audio file here and a video on Youtube here. These are of the unadapted version of the prayer. I have put together a Brighid-centered adaptation which I will be happy to send to anyone who requests it.
**For a Celtic Christian themed devotional, try Celtic Benediction: Morning and Night Prayer by J. Philip Newell.
***I used The Celtic Spirit: Daily Meditations for the Turning Year, also by Caitlin Matthews and Patricia Telesco’s 365 Goddess.
****For those seeking a balanced view, Mr. Gillotte has also published a Book of Hours devoted to the God which can be found here. I hope to integrate a mid-day devotion from this book into my practice as well.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Grace
The silver rain, the shining sun,
The field where scarlet poppies run,
And all the ripples of the wheat
Are in the foods that we do eat.
So when we sit for every meal and
Say our grace, we always feel
That we are eating rain and sun
And fields where scarlet poppies run
-Shaker Grace
One of the family habits on my list was encouraging us to say grace whenever we sit down to eat as a family. Breakfast, in our home, isn’t a family time. Most of us aren’t morning people, so even when we do eat together in the mornings, it is done with as little actual contact as possible. Now that my husband is working outside the home, lunches aren’t really all that family-oriented either. My son eats and then naps, my mother eats and isolates herself with the crossword puzzle. I tend to eat standing up, on my way to my next chore. So lunch isn’t really a time for family togetherness.
But dinner is another story. Like every family, we have nights when we don’t have dinner together or Daddy has to work late or runs into traffic on the hour-long commute he takes between home and the office. But we really do try to eat together, as a family, at least 5 times a week and we are trying to open that family meal with a grace. It is turning into a strong moment of family connection.
My family only used graces at formal meals like Thanksgiving or Easter and ignored them the rest of the time. My husband grew up in a devoutly Christian household, where blessings were an important part of family meals. His maternal grandfather’s family had a traditional grace that they used regularly, and that’s the grace we started using with our son. It is definitely Christian, but it has a family connection and we wanted to acknowledge the Christian part of our son’s heritage.
For the things we like to eat
Thy loving gift of food
We thank Thee, Lord, today
For Thou art kind and good.*
The grace my family used, when we used one, is well known. It is most often referred to as the Johnny Appleseed Grace, and I learned it because it was the grace my elementary school used at meals. In later years, I discovered just how fateful our use of it was. The words most people use are actually the first verse of a much longer hymn used in The New Church (or Swedenborgian Church), of which Johnny Appleseed was a member. It turns out that my maternal grandfather’s family were Swedenborgians and my grandfather remained on all his life, although he did not actively practice. We use that grace, especially when my sister is eating with us, because it connects to my family heritage and my sister really loves to sing it.
The Lord is good to me
And so I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need
The sun and the rain and the apple seed.
The Lord is good to me.
- The Johnny Appleseed Grace**
But I have also been looking for a grace that will connect more strongly to my current Pagan path. Right now, we are using a modified version of the Reclaiming Harvest Chant most often. But it doesn’t quite fit our style as well as I’d like. I think we will most likely retire it from general use and use it on special occasions or when we eat in community instead of as a family.
Our hands will work for peace and justice
Our hands will work to heal the land
Gather round the harvest table
Let us feast and bless the land
- “Harvest Chant” by Thorn Coyle, Starhawk***
Graces seem to be a place where the Pagan community struggles. I’d read several books and looked at several websites and hadn’t really been inspired. But when I joined my UU congregation, they gave me a little book for my son that had several prayers and graces included in it. These included the Shaker grace that I used to open the entry and the grace I’m planning to try next as a more Pagan alternative.
Earth, who gives to us this food,
Sun, who makes it ripe and good,
Dear Earth, Dear Sun, by you we live.
To you our loving thanks we give
-from Sunday and Every Day: My Little Book of Unitarian Universalism
I’m hoping that this new grace will help balance out the more Christian offerings from the rest of the family. I want my family to be more connected to the food we eat and more aware of those we have to thank for it, whether we choose to thank a Deity, the grower, or the spirits of the plants and animals themselves. Remembering that our food is a gift that is shared with us daily brings us closer to our world and those with whom we share it. Maybe if we are more aware of where our food comes from, we will then become more aware of what we are doing to our planet and to our fellow creatures, and seek alternatives to our current path. Wouldn’t it be great; if, some time in the not-so-distant future, we all--no matter what our religious path--remembered to thank; not just the Divine, but the people who grow our food and the living things that give their lives to provide it?
*I have not been able to find the author or divisor of this grace. I know it comes from my husband’s maternal grandfather’s family, but nothing more. If anyone has a clue where it might have come from, please let me know so I can attribute it properly.
**For a more earth-centered grace, replace “Lord” with “Earth”.
***When we use this grace outside of the harvest season, we replace “harvest” with “dining” and “feast” with “eat”.
The field where scarlet poppies run,
And all the ripples of the wheat
Are in the foods that we do eat.
So when we sit for every meal and
Say our grace, we always feel
That we are eating rain and sun
And fields where scarlet poppies run
-Shaker Grace
One of the family habits on my list was encouraging us to say grace whenever we sit down to eat as a family. Breakfast, in our home, isn’t a family time. Most of us aren’t morning people, so even when we do eat together in the mornings, it is done with as little actual contact as possible. Now that my husband is working outside the home, lunches aren’t really all that family-oriented either. My son eats and then naps, my mother eats and isolates herself with the crossword puzzle. I tend to eat standing up, on my way to my next chore. So lunch isn’t really a time for family togetherness.
But dinner is another story. Like every family, we have nights when we don’t have dinner together or Daddy has to work late or runs into traffic on the hour-long commute he takes between home and the office. But we really do try to eat together, as a family, at least 5 times a week and we are trying to open that family meal with a grace. It is turning into a strong moment of family connection.
My family only used graces at formal meals like Thanksgiving or Easter and ignored them the rest of the time. My husband grew up in a devoutly Christian household, where blessings were an important part of family meals. His maternal grandfather’s family had a traditional grace that they used regularly, and that’s the grace we started using with our son. It is definitely Christian, but it has a family connection and we wanted to acknowledge the Christian part of our son’s heritage.
For the things we like to eat
Thy loving gift of food
We thank Thee, Lord, today
For Thou art kind and good.*
The grace my family used, when we used one, is well known. It is most often referred to as the Johnny Appleseed Grace, and I learned it because it was the grace my elementary school used at meals. In later years, I discovered just how fateful our use of it was. The words most people use are actually the first verse of a much longer hymn used in The New Church (or Swedenborgian Church), of which Johnny Appleseed was a member. It turns out that my maternal grandfather’s family were Swedenborgians and my grandfather remained on all his life, although he did not actively practice. We use that grace, especially when my sister is eating with us, because it connects to my family heritage and my sister really loves to sing it.
The Lord is good to me
And so I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need
The sun and the rain and the apple seed.
The Lord is good to me.
- The Johnny Appleseed Grace**
But I have also been looking for a grace that will connect more strongly to my current Pagan path. Right now, we are using a modified version of the Reclaiming Harvest Chant most often. But it doesn’t quite fit our style as well as I’d like. I think we will most likely retire it from general use and use it on special occasions or when we eat in community instead of as a family.
Our hands will work for peace and justice
Our hands will work to heal the land
Gather round the harvest table
Let us feast and bless the land
- “Harvest Chant” by Thorn Coyle, Starhawk***
Graces seem to be a place where the Pagan community struggles. I’d read several books and looked at several websites and hadn’t really been inspired. But when I joined my UU congregation, they gave me a little book for my son that had several prayers and graces included in it. These included the Shaker grace that I used to open the entry and the grace I’m planning to try next as a more Pagan alternative.
Earth, who gives to us this food,
Sun, who makes it ripe and good,
Dear Earth, Dear Sun, by you we live.
To you our loving thanks we give
-from Sunday and Every Day: My Little Book of Unitarian Universalism
I’m hoping that this new grace will help balance out the more Christian offerings from the rest of the family. I want my family to be more connected to the food we eat and more aware of those we have to thank for it, whether we choose to thank a Deity, the grower, or the spirits of the plants and animals themselves. Remembering that our food is a gift that is shared with us daily brings us closer to our world and those with whom we share it. Maybe if we are more aware of where our food comes from, we will then become more aware of what we are doing to our planet and to our fellow creatures, and seek alternatives to our current path. Wouldn’t it be great; if, some time in the not-so-distant future, we all--no matter what our religious path--remembered to thank; not just the Divine, but the people who grow our food and the living things that give their lives to provide it?
*I have not been able to find the author or divisor of this grace. I know it comes from my husband’s maternal grandfather’s family, but nothing more. If anyone has a clue where it might have come from, please let me know so I can attribute it properly.
**For a more earth-centered grace, replace “Lord” with “Earth”.
***When we use this grace outside of the harvest season, we replace “harvest” with “dining” and “feast” with “eat”.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Mourning Moon*
"The wild November come at last
Beneath a veil of rain;
The night winds blows its folds aside,
Her face is full of pain.
The latest of her race, she takes
The Autumn's vacant throne:
She has but one short moon to live,
And she must live alone."
- Richard Henry Stoddard, November
Here in 1Y1Dland, the trees are almost done with turning. The oaks, usually the last to go, are half empty and the maples are skeletons with a few golden or scarlet leaves still hanging on. We have already had our first snow, although it didn’t stick. Our heat is on and tea has become my morning staple. More of our days are grey and dusk comes sooner, before 5 o’clock. All the world seems to be in mourning for the end of the growing season and warmth and beauty of summer.
There is a darkness to the daily rituals of life as well. Our food is heavier, with more protein to help keep us warm. Slippers are a must and my wool socks have made a reappearance. I’m knitting woolly sweaters for my son and I’ve started the collection of hats and mittens for the holiday charity tree at church. Our pumpkin has gone to the compost pile and the neighborhood leaf collections start on Monday. We need coats to go for a walk and hats are next on the list.
I don’t do magic at this time of the year. It seems wrong somehow, to petition the Gods at a time when the Earth is settling down to sleep and the Lady is mourning the loss of Her Son. I don’t stop my daily devotions but I do cut back on large-scale ritual activity. I will sing to the Moon tonight, but I won’t seek more reassurance then Her simple light. I am planning a Dream Journey for the New Moon, but for now I will hoard away my energies and let the Full Moon pass in quiet.
There is a holly tree outside our kitchen window and over the years it has grown to obscure most of the view. My mother hates it for that reason but I find myself drawn to it. The window gives me line of sight to the tree’s interior, the bare branches behind the prickly leaves. It’s covered with little red berries right now and I get to see all the visitors to that tree-based grocery. There are squirrels, of course, and sparrows and even the occasional robin. But I wait for the flash of color that signals the arrival of our neighborhood cardinals. The bright red bird loves our out-of-control tree and we will get several visits a day from the local male. Cardinals always give me such hope. As the world becomes darker, the weather becomes more difficult and the days become colder, their red coats remind me that there is beauty in winter and that spring will be here before we know it.
*This name comes from Modern Pagan Tradition. Through the year I will be using moon names from different sources, as no one naming system fits my beliefs perfectly. I chose this name because I felt it fit the feeling of November better than the better known names: Beaver or Snow Moon.
Beneath a veil of rain;
The night winds blows its folds aside,
Her face is full of pain.
The latest of her race, she takes
The Autumn's vacant throne:
She has but one short moon to live,
And she must live alone."
- Richard Henry Stoddard, November
Here in 1Y1Dland, the trees are almost done with turning. The oaks, usually the last to go, are half empty and the maples are skeletons with a few golden or scarlet leaves still hanging on. We have already had our first snow, although it didn’t stick. Our heat is on and tea has become my morning staple. More of our days are grey and dusk comes sooner, before 5 o’clock. All the world seems to be in mourning for the end of the growing season and warmth and beauty of summer.
There is a darkness to the daily rituals of life as well. Our food is heavier, with more protein to help keep us warm. Slippers are a must and my wool socks have made a reappearance. I’m knitting woolly sweaters for my son and I’ve started the collection of hats and mittens for the holiday charity tree at church. Our pumpkin has gone to the compost pile and the neighborhood leaf collections start on Monday. We need coats to go for a walk and hats are next on the list.
I don’t do magic at this time of the year. It seems wrong somehow, to petition the Gods at a time when the Earth is settling down to sleep and the Lady is mourning the loss of Her Son. I don’t stop my daily devotions but I do cut back on large-scale ritual activity. I will sing to the Moon tonight, but I won’t seek more reassurance then Her simple light. I am planning a Dream Journey for the New Moon, but for now I will hoard away my energies and let the Full Moon pass in quiet.
There is a holly tree outside our kitchen window and over the years it has grown to obscure most of the view. My mother hates it for that reason but I find myself drawn to it. The window gives me line of sight to the tree’s interior, the bare branches behind the prickly leaves. It’s covered with little red berries right now and I get to see all the visitors to that tree-based grocery. There are squirrels, of course, and sparrows and even the occasional robin. But I wait for the flash of color that signals the arrival of our neighborhood cardinals. The bright red bird loves our out-of-control tree and we will get several visits a day from the local male. Cardinals always give me such hope. As the world becomes darker, the weather becomes more difficult and the days become colder, their red coats remind me that there is beauty in winter and that spring will be here before we know it.
*This name comes from Modern Pagan Tradition. Through the year I will be using moon names from different sources, as no one naming system fits my beliefs perfectly. I chose this name because I felt it fit the feeling of November better than the better known names: Beaver or Snow Moon.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Dark Time
What dark time is coming,
What dark time is here?
- “Dark Time” by October Project (lyric by Julie Flanders)
Samhain has passed and the days grow darker and darker. Now that daylight savings has started ending later in the fall, the shortening of the days has become even more obvious. For most (but certainly not all) modern Pagans, especially those who follow a Celtic path, Samhain is the turning of the sacred year. For those who acknowledge a God, it is often seen as the time time of his death or passing into the underworld. And I fall into both categories.
Like many modern Pagans, I find myself in something of a dilemma. Samhain, with all its traditional death imagery and its importance to my Celtic ancestors as both the turning of the year and the beginning of winter, feels so appropriate as the time to honor the Dying God, the vegetation aspect of male Divinity, whose death with harvest allows all to survive the coming winter. But the Winter Solstice, with its strong images of rebirth and new light seems to be the perfect time for the birth of the God of Light, whose infant or youth form begins the God’s cycle again. And if I am to follow my inclination, to celebrate both holidays as what they are, Death and Rebirth, what do I do with the time in between?
The trouble really goes back to Pre-Christian Britain. The Insular Celtic peoples, whose descendants are the Welsh, Irish, Cornish, Scots and Manx, lived largely by a lunar calendar. Their holidays, which Modern Pagans refer to as the the Cross Quarter days (and call by their Irish Gaelic names), were tied to the lunar cycles. From what we know the Insular Celts divided their year into three season: winter, summer and harvest. Samhain was the turning of the year and the beginning of winter. Beltane (May 1st) was the beginning of summer and Lughnasadh (August 1st) was the beginning of the harvest time. To round out their year, they celebrated Imbolc, a holiday marking the lactation of the ewes, at the beginning of February. These holidays were great cultural celebrations with bonfires, herd blessings, games and great gatherings.
On the other hand, the Angles, Saxons and Jutes, as Germanic tribes, were strongly solar-oriented. They placed their holidays on the solstices and equinoxes. Today Modern Pagans celebrate those holidays as Yule (Winter Solstice), Eostre (Spring Equinox), Litha (Summer Solstice) and Mabon (Fall Equinox). On the British Isles, the two cultures ran right up against each other. Accommodations were made but there was still a discrepancy. As Christianity swept through, the Roman church chose to adopt the Germanic holidays, putting Christmas close to the winter solstice and Easter close to the spring equinox, while the Celtic church maintained the old Celtic holidays (Imbolc became Candlemas and Lughnasadh became Lammas). Time passed, the two churches merged and the Catholic/Germanic view came out on top, with the Celtic holidays taken as second place or dying out altogether. And it was that strange amalgamation that, thanks to Gerald Gardener, the Modern Pagan Movement inherited.
There are plenty of Pagans who don’t celebrate all of the holidays. And there are plenty of Reconstructionist groups that don’t celebrate any of them. Beltane has very little hold on a Hellenic Reconstructionist, especially when they have wonderful holidays like the Thesmophoria. But for those of us who rose out of a Wiccan or Eclectic background, the strange little gap between the Celtic and Anglic sides of our heritage is still there.
As an Anglo-Celitc Pagan, this gap looms very large for me. I want to follow the feeling of the seasons and the pull of my ancestors. And the empty stretch of time, almost two months’ worth, that lies between the solemnity of Samhain and open joy of Yule needs to be acknowledged and honored. It has weight and purpose. The earth is slowly falling asleep, becoming fallow. The nights are longer and colder and the frosts are heavier. In northern climes, there is already snow on the ground. It’s as if this time is an expectant inhaling of breath, waiting for the joyous exhaling of the Sun’s rebirth on Solstice Morning.
I think we need this time to turn inward. Winter is the season of introspection, but the Holiday Season, with its bright lights and big parties, interrupts that with its deliberate demand of extroversion. I often find it hard to return to the quiet of the Fallow Time after Yule. So I want to turn this time into a moment of interior growth, of dream journeys and path seeking.
My Witch’s Calendar refers to the Full Moon of November as the Mourning Moon. So that is what I will do. I will follow the path of the mourning Goddess, seeking Her Son in the dark places. My rituals will be solitary and my path, the lonely one. I will turn my face from company and seek the Light in quiet contemplation.
The churches are empty
The priest has gone home
And we are left standing
Together, alone.
- “Dark Time” by October Project (lyric by Julie Flanders)
What dark time is here?
- “Dark Time” by October Project (lyric by Julie Flanders)
Samhain has passed and the days grow darker and darker. Now that daylight savings has started ending later in the fall, the shortening of the days has become even more obvious. For most (but certainly not all) modern Pagans, especially those who follow a Celtic path, Samhain is the turning of the sacred year. For those who acknowledge a God, it is often seen as the time time of his death or passing into the underworld. And I fall into both categories.
Like many modern Pagans, I find myself in something of a dilemma. Samhain, with all its traditional death imagery and its importance to my Celtic ancestors as both the turning of the year and the beginning of winter, feels so appropriate as the time to honor the Dying God, the vegetation aspect of male Divinity, whose death with harvest allows all to survive the coming winter. But the Winter Solstice, with its strong images of rebirth and new light seems to be the perfect time for the birth of the God of Light, whose infant or youth form begins the God’s cycle again. And if I am to follow my inclination, to celebrate both holidays as what they are, Death and Rebirth, what do I do with the time in between?
The trouble really goes back to Pre-Christian Britain. The Insular Celtic peoples, whose descendants are the Welsh, Irish, Cornish, Scots and Manx, lived largely by a lunar calendar. Their holidays, which Modern Pagans refer to as the the Cross Quarter days (and call by their Irish Gaelic names), were tied to the lunar cycles. From what we know the Insular Celts divided their year into three season: winter, summer and harvest. Samhain was the turning of the year and the beginning of winter. Beltane (May 1st) was the beginning of summer and Lughnasadh (August 1st) was the beginning of the harvest time. To round out their year, they celebrated Imbolc, a holiday marking the lactation of the ewes, at the beginning of February. These holidays were great cultural celebrations with bonfires, herd blessings, games and great gatherings.
On the other hand, the Angles, Saxons and Jutes, as Germanic tribes, were strongly solar-oriented. They placed their holidays on the solstices and equinoxes. Today Modern Pagans celebrate those holidays as Yule (Winter Solstice), Eostre (Spring Equinox), Litha (Summer Solstice) and Mabon (Fall Equinox). On the British Isles, the two cultures ran right up against each other. Accommodations were made but there was still a discrepancy. As Christianity swept through, the Roman church chose to adopt the Germanic holidays, putting Christmas close to the winter solstice and Easter close to the spring equinox, while the Celtic church maintained the old Celtic holidays (Imbolc became Candlemas and Lughnasadh became Lammas). Time passed, the two churches merged and the Catholic/Germanic view came out on top, with the Celtic holidays taken as second place or dying out altogether. And it was that strange amalgamation that, thanks to Gerald Gardener, the Modern Pagan Movement inherited.
There are plenty of Pagans who don’t celebrate all of the holidays. And there are plenty of Reconstructionist groups that don’t celebrate any of them. Beltane has very little hold on a Hellenic Reconstructionist, especially when they have wonderful holidays like the Thesmophoria. But for those of us who rose out of a Wiccan or Eclectic background, the strange little gap between the Celtic and Anglic sides of our heritage is still there.
As an Anglo-Celitc Pagan, this gap looms very large for me. I want to follow the feeling of the seasons and the pull of my ancestors. And the empty stretch of time, almost two months’ worth, that lies between the solemnity of Samhain and open joy of Yule needs to be acknowledged and honored. It has weight and purpose. The earth is slowly falling asleep, becoming fallow. The nights are longer and colder and the frosts are heavier. In northern climes, there is already snow on the ground. It’s as if this time is an expectant inhaling of breath, waiting for the joyous exhaling of the Sun’s rebirth on Solstice Morning.
I think we need this time to turn inward. Winter is the season of introspection, but the Holiday Season, with its bright lights and big parties, interrupts that with its deliberate demand of extroversion. I often find it hard to return to the quiet of the Fallow Time after Yule. So I want to turn this time into a moment of interior growth, of dream journeys and path seeking.
My Witch’s Calendar refers to the Full Moon of November as the Mourning Moon. So that is what I will do. I will follow the path of the mourning Goddess, seeking Her Son in the dark places. My rituals will be solitary and my path, the lonely one. I will turn my face from company and seek the Light in quiet contemplation.
The churches are empty
The priest has gone home
And we are left standing
Together, alone.
- “Dark Time” by October Project (lyric by Julie Flanders)
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Sitting Shift
Holy Water, Sacred Flame
Brighid, we invoke Your name.
Bless my hands, my head, my heart,
Source of healing, song and art.
-Anne Hill
Tonight I pray to my Lady and ask for protection and blessing for all mothers everywhere, especially those who are mourning the loss of a child. May their sorrows be lightened and their heart's pain be eased.
Blessed Be!
Brighid, we invoke Your name.
Bless my hands, my head, my heart,
Source of healing, song and art.
-Anne Hill
Tonight I pray to my Lady and ask for protection and blessing for all mothers everywhere, especially those who are mourning the loss of a child. May their sorrows be lightened and their heart's pain be eased.
Blessed Be!
Monday, October 31, 2011
Dedication
I am only one
But still I am one.
I cannot do everything,
But still I can do something.
And because I cannot do everything
I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.
- Edward Everett Hale
Good words to live by. And that’s why I am here to do something, even though I can’t do everything. I’m a 40 year old mother and wife, between careers, trying to figure out where I stand, where I’m going and how to make my life and my family’s lives better in the process. Given the current economic and social climate, my current search is hardly unusual. And I’m doubt I’m going outside the box by saying that I want the end result of my search to be a better life for myself and all who I love. But for me, and to some extent for my family, this search is as spiritual as it is practical. And that is why I’m writing.
Now for a little background: I’m an Anglo-Celtic Pagan and I’m currently actively attending a Unitarian Universalist Congregation. I used to work in law libraries but I was laid off in 2009. My college degree is in Classical and Near Eastern Archaeology and I’ve also studied Anthropology, Historical Geology and Folklore. My husband and I have been married for 9 years. He works in the computer gaming industry and has a background in computer science, math and hobby game design. He’s Presbyterian and fairly liberal about his faith. We are trying to give our preschool-aged son experience in both faith traditions. We live with my mother, who is in her 80s, and spend time with my sister, who is developmentally disabled and lives in a group home nearby. Our lives are full of the practicalities of the modern Western, technological world and right now, I’m struggling to make that all-important connection with the Divine.
Until very recently, it was generally believed that it took 28 days to form a habit*. So that is what I’m hoping to do. My goal is 13 positive habits for the 13 months of the lunar year, beginning at the beginning of my sacred year, on Samhain, and ending in a year and a day, the traditional term of study or apprenticeship in the Pagan community. Some of the habits on my list are personal, like a schedule of daily devotions; some are more family oriented, like saying grace at family meals. Some are physical (being more physically active and losing weight), some are spiritual (doing ritual at the Full Moons and getting back into flame keeping), some are educational (try and read one non-fiction book a month) and some are creative (learn to quilt). I don’t think that I’ll get to everything on my list, nor do I think that everything I try will be successful. But I hope that in the end, all the habits I do create will make my life better and, by extension, my family’s lives better too.
So here is my first new habit. By writing here, I hope to chronicle my journey and all the little steps along the way. I have dysgraphia, a learning disability that focuses on writing, so nothing is going up here that hasn’t been proof read by at least two people ahead of time. Trying to put my thoughts in writing is often hard for me and this is a challenge to myself to be a better writer. I intend to post every Wednesday, with special posts on Sabbats and Esbbats as the year moves on. And in the end, I hope this will become a repository of essays, ideas, prayers, family rituals, and reviews, with a smattering of hopes and dreams.
* The current view among psychological professionals is that it actually takes 66 days to form a habit.
But still I am one.
I cannot do everything,
But still I can do something.
And because I cannot do everything
I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.
- Edward Everett Hale
Good words to live by. And that’s why I am here to do something, even though I can’t do everything. I’m a 40 year old mother and wife, between careers, trying to figure out where I stand, where I’m going and how to make my life and my family’s lives better in the process. Given the current economic and social climate, my current search is hardly unusual. And I’m doubt I’m going outside the box by saying that I want the end result of my search to be a better life for myself and all who I love. But for me, and to some extent for my family, this search is as spiritual as it is practical. And that is why I’m writing.
Now for a little background: I’m an Anglo-Celtic Pagan and I’m currently actively attending a Unitarian Universalist Congregation. I used to work in law libraries but I was laid off in 2009. My college degree is in Classical and Near Eastern Archaeology and I’ve also studied Anthropology, Historical Geology and Folklore. My husband and I have been married for 9 years. He works in the computer gaming industry and has a background in computer science, math and hobby game design. He’s Presbyterian and fairly liberal about his faith. We are trying to give our preschool-aged son experience in both faith traditions. We live with my mother, who is in her 80s, and spend time with my sister, who is developmentally disabled and lives in a group home nearby. Our lives are full of the practicalities of the modern Western, technological world and right now, I’m struggling to make that all-important connection with the Divine.
Until very recently, it was generally believed that it took 28 days to form a habit*. So that is what I’m hoping to do. My goal is 13 positive habits for the 13 months of the lunar year, beginning at the beginning of my sacred year, on Samhain, and ending in a year and a day, the traditional term of study or apprenticeship in the Pagan community. Some of the habits on my list are personal, like a schedule of daily devotions; some are more family oriented, like saying grace at family meals. Some are physical (being more physically active and losing weight), some are spiritual (doing ritual at the Full Moons and getting back into flame keeping), some are educational (try and read one non-fiction book a month) and some are creative (learn to quilt). I don’t think that I’ll get to everything on my list, nor do I think that everything I try will be successful. But I hope that in the end, all the habits I do create will make my life better and, by extension, my family’s lives better too.
So here is my first new habit. By writing here, I hope to chronicle my journey and all the little steps along the way. I have dysgraphia, a learning disability that focuses on writing, so nothing is going up here that hasn’t been proof read by at least two people ahead of time. Trying to put my thoughts in writing is often hard for me and this is a challenge to myself to be a better writer. I intend to post every Wednesday, with special posts on Sabbats and Esbbats as the year moves on. And in the end, I hope this will become a repository of essays, ideas, prayers, family rituals, and reviews, with a smattering of hopes and dreams.
* The current view among psychological professionals is that it actually takes 66 days to form a habit.
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