This is a preview of my latest blog post on SageWoman Magazine’s blog channel at Witches and Pagans. To read the full article, please click HERE.
Taking time to become aware of the self is a large part of the modern Pagan movement. In the last twenty years, exploring the psychological aspect in many of the traditions has been as important as the metaphysical and the spiritual work. Many have done this, as part of a training course or in their own deep learning, but perhaps subsequently allowing it to fall by the wayside; once it’s been studied, that’s it, let’s move on. Being aware of your emotions and behaviour is a never-ending quest in self-awareness. In order to live as Pagans it should be a lifelong exercise, in order to ensure that we are living honourably and respectfully within nature and the natural cycle.
Indeed, it is our responsibility to be aware of what we put out into the world, emotionally and physically, as Pagans. We know that we are a part of a greater web, therefore when one strand is tugged, all the others shiver all the way down to the core. We need to be able to see when we have failed to act with honour, in our human relationships, in our relationships with the natural world, in our relationship with the gods and the ancestors. And in doing so, we can work to make amends, to reweave those threads that have been pulled apart…
Here are some lovely photos taken by the very talented Emily Fae of our wedding vow renewal last weekend – to visit Emily’s website, click HERE! P.S. She does Pagan handfastings at vastly reduced prices 🙂
As the 25th anniversary of the Oka Crisis is upon us, there is a new Indeigogo film project underway that seeks to recount what happened during that year-long struggle, and how it has impacted upon the First Nations people ever since. Here is a video about the project, and an essay that I wrote many years ago now on what began that summer of 1990. You can contribute the project by clicking HERE (url doesn’t work in youtube video).
The Curse of Self-Awareness by Joanna van der Hoeven (originally posted on The Druid Network)
As I sit here, looking out the window, watching the clouds float by in a pale blue sky, I am reminded that the fights and troubles of humankind matters not to them. Still they float past, unrattled by humanity, simply being. The forsythia is in bloom, the sun is out and casting shadows upon the ground. The curse of self-awareness is not upon them. They know nothing of land ownership. They all share in this world, living where they can, with no knowledge of property deeds, legalities and borders. On this bright afternoon, I am reminded of Kanasetake, and the Oka Crisis that began on March 11, 1990 in Quebec, Canada. Why? Because I am human. I carry these memories and cannot forget them. The curse of self-awareness.
Land ownership. The concept is entirely human. The wolf knows its territory, but once the wolf has died, the concept of any claim on land is lost. It cannot be handed down to others through a Will, or any legal documents. You cannot take your land with you when you die. The concept of territory to a wolf is to ensure a sufficient food supply for a hunter and predator. It will share this with the pack, should it be part of one. The wolf does not own its land, it merely claims the right to live on it. With writing these words, I am reminded of Chief Seattle’s words in a letter to the US government, “I never said the land was mine to do with as I choose. The one who created it is the one who has a right to dispose of it. I claim a right to live on my land, and accord you the privilege to return to yours.” Are these words creating a boundary, or defining a territory? In this global village, can we truly live in a land without borders? Where walls and fences do not exist? Can we ever return?
The fight for land ownership, or defending a territory? Are they one and the same? I think there may be a difference between the two, which essentially always ends up merged into the former. The Oka Crisis, spring 1990. The snows were receding, the air beginning to soften with the call of the season. I was sixteen, just graduating from high school and moving on to college later that fall. The news on the television came through as we sat down to our evening meal. The Mohawk people of the Kanasetake reservation had put up roadblocks, to stop anyone from entering land they held sacred. A year previously, the mayor of Oka, Jean Ouellette, decreed that the pine forest, which included a native burial ground next to the reservation, was to be cleared to expand a golf course from nine to eighteen holes. Ouellette was also a member of the golf club. The golf club stood to make a profit for this expansion.
The ownership of the land had been in dispute for 260 years. The governor of New France in 1717 granted the lands to a seminary priest to hold on trust for the Mohawks. The Church then expanded on this agreement, to enable them to have ownership of the entire land, and began selling off the resources. The Mohawks rose against the missionaries but were imprisoned by the police. The remaining land was sold by the missionaries, who then left. In 1961, a nine hole golf course was built. The Mohawk nation legally protested but to no avail, the land was already being cleared right next to their burial ground. Through much red tape, the Mohawk demand was finally thrown out, “failing to meet criteria”.
And so, in 1990 the roadblock was erected. For years the natives and their European descended counterparts had shared the land, though not in fair and judicial proportions. This was not the golf club’s fighting for territory from which to live. It was not necessary to its survival. It stood to profit in excess of what it needed. Land ownership and greed, hand in hand. Respect for the territory of another pack, lost. Self-awareness leading to selfishness.
The Sûreté du Québec, the Provincial police force, were called in by order of the mayor on July 11. The warriors at the barricades turned to the matriarchs for advice, asking whether they should keep the amassed weapons. The women replied that they should not be used unless the SQ opened fire first. Tear gas canisters were thrown in by the SQ along with concussion grenades. CBC reporter Laurent Levigne was live on the radio at the time, and said that he heard the first shot of gunfire sound. When asked from which side, he replied he thought it came from the SQ police. The reporter could no longer continue with his report, and had to retreat due to the teargas. Corporal Marcel Lemay of the SQ was shot and killed during the brief gun battle. After the funeral, flags from both opposing forces were raised to half mast.
The idea of land ownership did not stop there. Racial hatred had begun to show it’s ugly head, fanned by radio host Gilles Proulx and echoed by the federal member of parliament for the district of Chateauguay, who spoke of exiling natives to Labrador, “if they wanted their own country so much”. The new wolves were attacking the forced roadblock where before there had been none. Divides were perhaps not created between people, but solidified that summer. The Mohawks fought to defend their land from the awaiting bulldozers and golfers. They recalled their previous entreaties to grant them the land that they lived on, and the many refusals. The land became a tool of war. Blood lay upon it. I pause here, to ask myself – did the land care? Did the pines weep as the guns shot across the barricades? The dawn continued, regardless of the attack. Did the land care? Was the self-awareness of the humans provoking this encounter? Did the mourning cries of the ancestors at that sacred site awaken the hearts of the warriors and the women? Or did the wind blow through the boughs as it always had, heedless of the humanity beneath its green canopy?
On August 29th, two days after my 17th birthday, the negotiations came to an end after the army had been called in. The stand off had lasted for three months. The army came through the barricades and the women ordered their warriors back. The guns were slowly put away. By 25th September the fights were with hoses and water balloons. On 26th September, the warriors threw their guns into a septic tank and surrendered, with the ceremonial burning of tobacco lingering in the air. The First Nations Policing Policy was developed, and Canada listed on Amnesty International’s list of human rights violators. A year later, the mayor was re-elected, and when asked if he could have done things differently, he said that he would not have changed a thing. For nine holes in the ground, a man lost his life.
The fight for land ownership or the fight for territory. The right to live on your land or the right to own the land upon which you live. On 1st April 1999 a new territory, Nunavut was created in Canada. In Inuit, it means ‘Our Land’. 85% of the population are Inuit. To me, this raises another question though. Is this simply another way of claiming land to own? Of setting up borders? Is this an answer to the problems? Our global community, should it even know any boundaries? What would happen if land ownership simply ceased to be?
Memories flood through us every day. The curse of self-awareness. And outside my window, the sun is still shining.
THE PEOPLE Today we have gathered and we see that the cycles of life continue. We have been given the duty to live in balance and harmony with each other and all living things. So now, we bring our minds together as one as we give greetings and thanks to each other as people. Now our minds are one. THE EARTH MOTHER We are all thankful to our Mother, the Earth, for she gives us all that we need for life. She supports our feet as we walk about upon her. It gives us joy that she continues to care for us as she has from the beginning of time. To our mother, we send greetings and thanks. Now our minds are one.
THE WATERS We give thanks to all the waters of the world for quenching our thirst and providing us with strength. Water is life. We know its power in many forms-waterfalls and rain, mists and streams, rivers and oceans. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the spirit of Water. Now our minds are one.
THE FISH We turn our minds to the all the Fish life in the water. They were instructed to cleanse and purify the water. They also give themselves to us as food. We are grateful that we can still find pure water. So, we turn now to the Fish and send our greetings and thanks. Now our minds are one.
THE PLANTS Now we turn toward the vast fields of Plant life. As far as the eye can see, the Plants grow, working many wonders. They sustain many life forms. With our minds gathered together, we give thanks and look forward to seeing Plant life for many generations to come. Now our minds are one.
THE FOOD PLANTS With one mind, we turn to honor and thank all the Food Plants we harvest from the garden. Since the beginning of time, the grains, vegetables, beans and berries have helped the people survive. Many other living things draw strength from them too. We gather all the Plant Foods together as one and send them a greeting of thanks. Now our minds are one.
THE MEDICINE HERBS Now we turn to all the Medicine herbs of the world. From the beginning they were instructed to take away sickness. They are always waiting and ready to heal us. We are happy there are still among us those special few who remember how to use these plants for healing. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the Medicines and to the keepers of the Medicines. Now our minds are one.
THE ANIMALS We gather our minds together to send greetings and thanks to all the Animal life in the world. They have many things to teach us as people. We are honored by them when they give up their lives so we may use their bodies as food for our people. We see them near our homes and in the deep forests. We are glad they are still here and we hope that it will always be so. Now our minds are one.
THE TREES We now turn our thoughts to the Trees. The Earth has many families of Trees who have their own instructions and uses. Some provide us with shelter and shade, others with fruit, beauty and other useful things. Many people of the world use a Tree as a symbol of peace and strength. With one mind, we greet and thank the Tree life. Now our minds are one.
THE BIRDS We put our minds together as one and thank all the Birds who move and fly about over our heads. The Creator gave them beautiful songs. Each day they remind us to enjoy and appreciate life. The Eagle was chosen to be their leader. To all the Birds-from the smallest to the largest-we send our joyful greetings and thanks. Now our minds are one.
THE FOUR WINDS We are all thankful to the powers we know as the Four Winds. We hear their voices in the moving air as they refresh us and purify the air we breathe. They help us to bring the change of seasons. From the four directions they come, bringing us messages and giving us strength. With one mind, we send our greetings and thanks to the Four Winds. Now our minds are one.
THE THUNDERERS Now we turn to the west where our grandfathers, the Thunder Beings, live. With lightning and thundering voices, they bring with them the water that renews life. We are thankful that they keep those evil things made by Okwiseres underground. We bring our minds together as one to send greetings and thanks to our Grandfathers, the Thunderers. Now our minds are one.
THE SUN We now send greetings and thanks to our eldest Brother, the Sun. Each day without fail he travels the sky from east to west, bringing the light of a new day. He is the source of all the fires of life. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to our Brother, the Sun. Now our minds are one.
GRANDMOTHER MOON We put our minds together to give thanks to our oldest Grandmother, the Moon, who lights the night-time sky. She is the leader of woman all over the world, and she governs the movement of the ocean tides. By her changing face we measure time, and it is the Moon who watches over the arrival of children here on Earth. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to our Grandmother, the Moon. Now our minds are one.
THE STARS We give thanks to the Stars who are spread across the sky like jewelry. We see them in the night, helping the Moon to light the darkness and bringing dew to the gardens and growing things. When we travel at night, they guide us home. With our minds gathered together as one, we send greetings and thanks to the Stars. Now our minds are one.
THE ENLIGHTENED TEACHERS We gather our minds to greet and thank the enlightened Teachers who have come to help throughout the ages. When we forget how to live in harmony, they remind us of the way we were instructed to live as people. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to these caring teachers. Now our minds are one.
THE CREATOR Now we turn our thoughts to the creator, or Great Spirit, and send greetings and thanks for all the gifts of Creation. Everything we need to live a good life is here on this Mother Earth. For all the love that is still around us, we gather our minds together as one and send our choicest words of greetings and thanks to the Creator. Now our minds are one.
CLOSING WORDS………. We have now arrived at the place where we end our words. Of all the things we have named, it was not our intention to leave anything out. If something was forgotten, we leave it to each individual to send such greetings and thanks in their own way. Now our minds are one.
An excellent and thoughtful post on the Paleo diet, the matter of choice, environmental concerns and being healthy (in a very personal sense, not as a broad generalisation of what “healthy” means)…
Today is Canada Day, 1st July. Back home in Canada there will be fireworks, music and celebrations from backyard barbeques to city-wide parties and festivals. Days like this I miss my homeland, my mother country. As today has approached, I’ve been giving some thought about what it means to be a Druid in a land that is not “your own”, living in a foreign land.
A Druid’s relationship is with the land, first and foremost. It is the defining part of our spiritual tradition, religion and philosophy. We deepen that relationship through working with the ancestors, deities, the three worlds, etc. However, at the heart of the matter is the land upon which you live. Establishing a deep and sacred relationship with it is the main part of our work as Druids. But what is this relationship?
We have to know the environment we are living in, in order to live well in it. If we live with ignorance, we might cause damage. If we run against the currents of energy that are flowing through our land, say for example spending inordinate amounts of energy during the winter holidays when the darkness is actually calling us to rest a moment, to get in touch with the depths of winter, then we become exhausted, ill, suffering from diseases and dis-ease. We have to dance with the land, and when dancing with another it is of utmost importance to acknowledge the other’s movements, in order not to cause injury or step on anyone’s toes. We have to be aware of what is going on, each and every day in our landscape. It is not enough to celebrate the eight festivals of the modern pagan Wheel of the Year – to be a Druid requires much more than that.
It is a relationship that is not one way. Singer/composer/pianist Tori Amos once described her relationship to the land through her Cherokee grandfather’s guiding words: “We are either caretakers, or takers. It’s your choice”. While as Druids we don’t really have a sense of stewardship of the earth, for that would place us in a hierarchal order of being that doesn’t really make any sense, we do know that taking too much is damaging and so we work to live in harmony, in balance. Inspired by the ecosystems around us, we see how to fit in, to work with each other, whether that be human or beetle, stinging nettle or oak tree.
My relationship with the land began in Canada, where I was born. I drank from the rivers and lakes: that water is in my body. I grew up in the Laurentian mountains: those granite hills are also in my bones, in my foundation. The wild thunderstorms of summer are in my blood, the cold crisp air of winter in my lungs. They are a part of me and I am a part of it. We are inseparable, the land and I. The conditions manifested at the right time to bring me into being in that space and in that time, and I cannot disengage with it any more than I can wilfully cut off an arm or a leg.
But I live in the UK now. I am a resident of this country, and have been for many, many years. I have been here almost as long as I have lived in Canada. I have learned to dance to the rhythms of this land, with its differently beating heart, its slower pulses and island mentality. I have felt Brighid’s serpent rising and falling with each passing year, deep within the earth, dancing in the light of the sun in summer and retreating again, curled up within the depths of winter’s darkness and at the base of my spine. I have seen different gods of thunder and lightning, of seas and oceans, rivers and deep, cold lakes. I have felt and honoured the ancestors of this land, feeling their stories sung in the evening breeze, feeding from their bodies in the food grown on this land, breathing the air they breathed. I have walked many, many miles all across this land, coming to know its vast and intricate landscape, from craggy sea cliffs to heather moorland, from the Scottish Highlands to the White Cliffs of Dover. I have danced in this energy, so different and still similar to that of my mother country.
The questions remains: to whom do I belong?
I have roved many parts of this world, been in many places on this beautiful blue planet. I belong to this planet, I would say, first and foremost. Though I still carry a Canadian passport, I am a citizen of Earth more than a citizen of any country. Those lines on a map really mean nothing to me, spiritually. A land defines its spirituality, for sure, but there is a shared spirituality as well, as we are all part of this huge ecosystem called Earth. The energies run differently here in the UK than they do in Canada, on the surface, at least. But delve deep enough, in to the core of this spherical mass hurtling through space and it’s a shared centre, with sacred fire holding it all together.
I feel equally at home here in the UK as I do in Canada. There are other places on this planet that I feel at home – Sweden is one. I cannot date my ancestry back to either Scandavian or Celtic roots, but I know that I did come from the same basic ancestors as we all did those many, many years ago. It matters not what more modern root I come from in my Druidry. I was baptised and confirmed a Protestant, but I am a Pagan Druid. I honour different gods from all traditions, and still question the existence of all of them. I quest the awen daily, searching for inspiration, looking for answers, searching for the right questions, sitting in silence and dancing in delight. It doesn’t matter where I came from. What matters most is what I do now, in the land that I am in, whether it is the UK, Norway, France or USA. What matters is that deep connection to the spirits of the land, to the essence of nature wherever I am, and in that connection an honourable, sacred and sustainable relationship. I am not a tourist anywhere.
Yet still I call myself Canadian for the most part. My accent, though much bastardised, is still different and people will ask me where I’m from. Legally I am a Canadian who is resident in the UK. Yet I vote on UK policies, not Canadian ones. I follow deities that are from this land. I honour the deities of Canada and North America, those different energies moving along swifter currents and wilder ways. But I work with the land beneath which I walk, barefoot on the grass in my backyard, the ash trees whispering ancient secrets to me beneath a mackerel evening sky. Perhaps I am not a Canadian. I am not British. But I am Druid.
I love the summer. The heat of the sun, the long days, the unending twilight at this time of year – it’s a brilliant time to be alive. I find at this time of year there is nowhere to hide: you must face what the light shines on you or try to hide in air-conditioned rooms with recycled air, breathing in that stale, same old, same old.
It’s a time when the layers come off, physically and metaphorically. As we expose some skin to the wonderful sunlight (with proper protection) so too do we expose our souls to the light, shining it in all the corners of our psyche. Summer is a time for exploration, for rejuvenation, for relaxation. It’s time to let your hair down and get a bit sweaty.
Many within the pagan tradition see Samhain as the time to face demons, your monsters that can take over and lead you into unacceptable behaviour. But for me it is summer, where I can lay them out on the lawn and watch them wriggle in the full light of the sun – that is where I find the denouement, the closure in my life’s little episodes.
Summer is a time when I have to face certain things head on: my body for one…
As Zen Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh’s health slowly begins to improve, he still provides an example of finding the joy, enchantment and wonder of the simplest things in life – eating a bite of food, taking a step upon Mother Earth, smiling at a friend. Reading this latest update on his recovery, it really brought home the message that we can find joy anywhere, if we are able to open our hearts to it. Despite circumstances that prove a tremendous difficulty, this gentle monk who has lived through war and exile continues to lead by example. Thank you, and bless you, Thay for your teaching. May we be worthy students, and may we all find the joy and peace that is to hand in mindfulness.
Official Announcement
Plum Village, France
June 28, 2015
To all Plum Village Practice Centers,
To all Practice Centers and Sanghas World Wide,
To our Dear Beloved Friends,
We are happy to report that Thay’s health has improved greatly since he returned to his Plum Village Hermitage in early April. Every day Thay has been out in nature, enjoying the blossoms, listening to the birds and resting at the foot of a tree. Thay enjoys lying in his hammock next to the running creek, in the fresh cool of the bamboo grove he planted more than thirty years ago.
Doctors and nurses continue to visit Thay, and he receives physiotherapy, massage and acupuncture daily. The team of attendants continue to care for Thay and support his needs around the clock.
Despite his advanced age, Thay has been making remarkable progress.
One day, Thay decided for himself that he was ready to start swallowing solid food, and directed his attendants to prepare an apple, then a lemon and then an avocado. Thay enjoyed each bite with great delight, chewing each mouthful at least forty times before swallowing. Everyone was very surprised. Thay’s mindfulness, concentration and joy to really savor the food was remarkable. Since that day, with great concentration and determination, Thay has been able to enjoy feeding himself. The sisters have been investing their love and creativity in preparing diverse nutritious healthy food for Thay, which he eats with delight. As soon as Thay was able to nourish himself with several wholesome meals a day, he surprised all the doctors by successfully removing his own feeding tube, without any complications. Thay smiled, and we all smiled.
More recently, Thay has begun to develop his vocalisation, joining the attendants when they hum or sing. The first time this happened, one of the sisters was chanting in Vietnamese the name of Avalokita, the Bodhisattva of Great Compassion: Nam Mo Bo Tat Quan The Am. Thay suddenly pronounced the final sound “Âm” (pron. “um”) clearly and on cue. Miraculously, the word “Âm” actually means “sound”. Thay looked at those around him, his eyes gleaming, as if to say “everything is possible”. It was a very moving moment, and the attendants all gathered to continue to chant with Thay. Since that very first “um”, Thay now enjoys singing and humming every day, all the familiar Plum Village tunes in Vietnamese, English and French. At this point, Thay is able to voice the melody and, once in a while, he can form a word. He raises his arm in such a way as to express the meaning of each line, and has great joy and surprise every time he is able to produce a clear and accurate word.
Thay’s therapists have been struck by his extremely strong will to recover, and have pointed out to us that this is the most important factor in his rehabilitation. Thay has been very determined to train himself so he can recover his physical strength and regain his balance and posture. Thay is clear about what he wants to do, and what he does not want to do. He is now able to sit by himself, beautifully upright. In the last three weeks Thay has wanted to start walking, even though his right side remains paralysed. With the support of one attendant behind, and one at his right leg to help move it forward, Thay now practices walking meditation in the garden, several times a day. We can feel Thay’s delight and freedom at each step. Even though it takes great effort, we can see that, for Thay, each step is a step of victory, an affirmation of life and joy to be alive on this beautiful Mother Earth.
From time to time the whole monastic community of 150 monks and nuns has come to practice walking meditation with Thay. Last week we could feel Thay’s joy to see his disciples, and his happiness to lead the sangha in walking meditation. Thay pointed to the blue sky, the swaying bamboo, the smile of a brother, directing us to enjoy the present moment. Thay’s courage, determination and joy, despite his physical limitations, was a clear teaching for all those present as we walked behind Thay with our two healthy feet. With every step, Thay demonstrated that he will continue to practice no matter what the conditions. Thay was affirming that he would never desert the Path. He was encouraging us to stay on the path, and enjoy the wonders of life.
We would like to thank everyone for offering your loving support to Thay and the sangha through the past months. We are deeply grateful for your energy of compassion and prayers, and for your commitment to continue to practice mindfully and deeply for Thay. A special thank you to those who have sent us beautiful children’s drawings for Thay’s room and those who have sent us heartfelt donations to support Thay’s care.
The lotuses are blooming in our ponds, the plums are ripening in our orchards, and we are preparing our hamlets to welcome our guests for the Summer Retreat, around 800 people each week, for a whole month. The Summer Retreat is one of Thay’s favorite times of year. We will welcome families and children, and the Dharma Talks will be given by Thay’s continuation in the form of his Senior Dharma Teachers. Under the shade of the oak trees, bamboo groves and verandas in the late afternoon sun, we will see many circles of friends sharing deeply with one another. Hearts will be open, tears will be shed, as the sound of the bell reverberates.
Nine years ago Thay was asked,
“You will be 80 this year. Do you plan to retire as a spiritual teacher at any point?”
This is the answer he gave:
In Buddhism we see that teaching is done not only by talking, but also by living your own life. Your life is the teaching, is the message. And since I continue to sit, to walk, to eat, to interact with the Sangha and people, I continue to teach, even if I have already encouraged my senior students to begin to replace me in giving Dharma talks. In the last two years, I have asked Dharma teachers, not only in the monastic circle but also in the lay circle, to come up and give Dharma talks. Many of them have given wonderful Dharma talks. Some Dharma talks have been better than mine. I see myself in my continuation, and I will not retire. I’ll continue to teach, if not by Dharma talks then in my way of sitting, eating, smiling, and interacting with the Sangha. I like to be with the Sangha. Even if I don’t give a Dharma talk, I like to join walking meditation, sitting meditation, eating in mindfulness and so on. So don’t worry. When people are exposed to the practice, they are inspired. You don’t need to talk in order to teach. You need to live your life mindfully and deeply. Thank you.
May you cherish the presence of those you love, and enjoy each step together.
With love and trust,
The Monks and Nuns of Plum Village
As Thay’s condition is now stable, and his path of recovery is long, we will post updates only occasionally. We will keep our global community informed of any major developments in Thay’s recovery. All official updates will continue to appear at plumvillage.org, langmai.org, villagedespruniers.org, and www.facebook.com/thichnhathanh.
Today I am getting married. I am marrying the man I married nearly six years ago to the day.
Love changes with the passage of time. This change is like a fine wine, aging quietly, mellowing and creating a deeper, richer flavour to delight the palette. Things have changed between us, as we are not the same people we were six years ago. Things remain the same, as we hold many things close to our hearts as we did six years ago. Life experience has flavoured our journey together, giving it a sweetness and a spice that was only hinted at all those years ago.
We’ve been lovers for fourteen years. We’ve been married for six of those fourteen years, enjoying each other’s company, riding the currents of this river of time together, paddling together through the rapids, floundering when we’re not concentrating on working together. We’re best friends who hold many things in common, loving many of the same things. We are also polar opposites, having many differences in outlook, upbringing, ways of thinking. Having grown together, especially these last two to three years and working through various difficulties has made us see the best and the worst in each other. We don’t take certain things, like health, for granted anymore. We don’t take each other for granted anymore.
As my love for my husband has deepened, so too shall my vows today reflect that change. Nothing stays the same, life is always in constant change and flux. The impermanence of everything helps me to see the joys of life greatly, even in the deepest sorrow and pain.
I am deeply honoured to have married a wonderful man who both adores me and is not afraid to stand up to me. He loves me for who I am, never asking me to change, supporting me in all that I do even when he doesn’t really understand it. He has taught me so much about myself, about the give and take in a relationship, about what it means to nurture something and really being there for each other. Today I pledge my love for him once again, witnessed by friends, the ancestors and the spirits of place.
Last night a couple of friends and I went out onto the heath to celebrate the summer solstice. We have a tight-knit little group of friends, who feel a deep and abiding love of this land and who choose to celebrate it with spontaneous ritual. Tired as we were, we decided to forego the planned ritual in the backyard around the firepit and instead sought the wildnerness of the heath.
The clouds came in and it looked ominous, but we just smiled and headed out into the wilds with our drums. We came across small herds of young deer almost straight away, maybe a year old, hanging out together like many teenagers do. We made our way to a small wood of beech and pine trees, just before the rain began to fall softly.
The smell of green and growing things was all around us, the canopy of beech trees waving in the wind above us. Beneath the tall, grey trunks lay the remains of a fallen tree, a perfect altar around which we stood, pulling our drums out of our bags. Without a word we spread out around the altar, pulling drums out of our bags and beginning to drum softly, the heartbeat of the land at dusk.
Warming to the heartbeat, we let it die away into the quiet of the deepening dark. We then took a few deep breaths, allowing the energy of the land and the time of year to infuse our spirit. The drums then began to beat again, a rising rhythm of joy and celebration, ringing out to all who could hear. And indeed, many did hear – a herd of young deer came running over to us, to see what was going on, their inquisitive eyes watching us, then recognising us and resuming their normal business.
We began to chant, a chant to Elen, which merged into a chant of the summer solstice. We sang of the land around us, honouring all that was happening in that moment. Fully immersed in the serpent energy swirling around us at this sacred time of the year, we allowed the awen to flow through us, as vehicles for the inspiration to come through and be expressed in deep reverence and joy.
As the darkness deepened we moved to a lighter patch beneath the beech trees, and began to dance. We dance the sacred round, hand to hand.
We then moved out onto the open heath, the wind picking up and the setting sun glowing in the north-west. The crescent moon appeared every now and then from behind tattered clouds in the west. We spoke of our thanks for our blessings, of the courage to walk into the dark half of the year, of the brilliance and our thanks for the light and for the teachings of the coming darkness.
As the sun disappeared beneath the horizon we made our way home, across the sandy soil and past the field of green barley, harvested last week. Where our bodies were previously tired, smiles now replaced yawns, and our bodies hummed with the wonderful energy of the summer solstice.
Down the Forest Path 