I’ve finally managed to put together a cohesive account of my experience with this book over on my blog at SageWoman – if you’re interested, please click HERE for the full article.
Harvest blessings,
Jo. x
celtic
Jason Kirkey: Celtic spiritual ecologist
I had my mind blown a while back by Jason Kirkey’s book, The Salmon in the Spring. It is the best book I have ever read about Celtic spirituality, animism and ecology. Now, as I am re-reading it, again I am finding my head nodding in response to everything he says, like some little toy dog in the back of someone’s car. I am eagerly anticipating his new book, which hopefully will be available soon. Though I’ve never met him, or spoken to him, I feel a soul kinship to his words and thoughts that resonate so deeply with my own spirituality. Concepts of ego and environment, of humanity’s place within the whole, has left me once again reeling with a different perception. When I have found some handholds I shall write about it, first needing to find a more coherent sense of self in order to form the words 🙂
To find our more about Jason Kirkey, please visit his website HERE.
Reblog: Q&A: What is the Song of the World?
A brilliant blog post by Alison Leigh Lily, which has sparked something very special in my path through the forest!
The latest issue of the Alternative Religions Educational Network’s newsletter just came out this past weekend, and I was excited to be included as one of those featured in an interview with the editor, Christopher Blackwell. We chatted about my background being raised in a liberal Catholic tradition flavored by my father’s Irish heritage, and how that shaped my spiritual journey towards Druidry as I live and practice it today. It was great fun! One thing we touched on was the Oran Mór, or the Song of the World. Chris asked me to talk a little bit more about how this cosmological concept is reflected in my Druidry. You can read the excerpt here, or check out the whole interview.
Reblog: The Nature of Blessing
What does it mean to bless something? To honour your blessings? How can we feel truly blessed?
Most of us only come across the term “blessing” after someone has sneezed, but for me as a Druid it is an integral part of my religion. Alongside “prayer” however, the word can evoke memories of perhaps anti-pagan establishment. If we can set aside these connotations and simply see the word for what it is, we can fill our lives with a wonder and enchantment, or perhaps re-enchantment that can otherwise escape us in today’s modern, secularised world.
So what is a blessing? A blessing is when we awaken, when we fully come to the here and now and see the wonder of life. It is to be absolutely awake and aware of who we are, where we are, and how we work in the flows, rhythms and cycles of life. It is being aware of the gods and ancestors, of how each part is played. When we have awoken to this reality, life may flow easier, we may move through our days with more grace and compassion.
Being aware of our many blessings goes hand in hand with gratitude. If we give thanks for the blessing of lengthening sunlight, we awaken ourselves to the solar cycle of spring and the light half of the year. The sun gives freely of her gift, and this gift is a true blessing. When we give freely, when we are true to our selves and working for the greater good of the world, we too are blessing the world. The rain that brings the flowers is a blessing. The person who helped us out of a dark place is a blessing. A piece of music that sings to our soul is a blessing.
Being aware of these blessings takes us outside of ourselves, allowing room for a greater perspective that our narrow perception of the world can override. We have to shut off the internal monologue to be able to be aware of a blessing, to give and receive blessings with an open heart…
To read the full article, click HERE.
Loreena McKennitt on NPR
Suffering from a virus last week, and it’s subsequent manifestation as a stonker of a head cold this week, I haven’t been much use in the writing department, with a pounding head of thick fog and a need to just sit quiet, knit and listen to the people who are inspirational to me to lift me out of my self-misery. Today I came across these two similar interviews with my favourite artist, Loreena McKennitt, on National Public Radio, which I thought I would share with you all.
Blessings,
J. x
Beltane and bluebells
We headed off across the field, flowers in our hair, to find the bluebell woods at Beltane. Some of us had seen them before; the others were in for a big surprise.
As we neared the gate, the scent of the blossom floated on the breeze, and a haze of purple/blue could be seen. As we passed through, we simply stood and stared at the thick, lush carpet of flowers that covered the entire floor of the little wood. This place was special.
We walked on, talking of faeries and bending down to touch and smell those flowers next to the path. Bees buzzed past, and the greening canopy of leaves overhead whispered in the breeze of the coming summer. We made our way to a little faery knoll, where there was a space of grass and where we could do the first half of our ritual without fear of crushing any of the tiny, precious flowers.
We sat, and prayed to the spirits of the wood. They welcomed us with open arms, a gentle hug of affirmation. We proceeded with our ritual, honouring the gods, the ancestors the four quarters, the three realms. We spoke of our own fires within, of what sparked our passion in life. Our words were witnessed by the circle of present, and all else around us, both seen and unseen.
We then made our offerings and closed down the ritual, heading back to the house. Once there, we lit the twin fires in the backyard, and drummed the energy into being. With drums pounding, we each took our turn walking between the fires, letting their heat and energy fill our souls with the song of flames and smoke, of fuel and light, of love, sex and passion. We let the flames purify our souls, and released what we had held onto all winter that was unnecessary. Once the flames died down, we then jumped the fires, some with skirts held high, with joy in our hearts and smiles on our faces.
The fires burned lower, and we walked once again between the two fires, to be smudged by twin bearers of mugwort, who lit their bundles in the flames and swept them all over our bodies. There was laughter and thoughtfulness, and we then sat down around the fires for the next part of our ritual.
We had prepared words of love; words of love that we wished someone would write or say to us. We wrote love poems to ourselves, with words honouring the fact that love must first come from within. We shared the poems and words with laughter and with tears, and then burned the papers in offering to the spirits. We then stood, delighting in an energy shower/chant that one of our group taught to us on the spot, and then we did a drum healing for all.
All in all, it was the most blessed Beltane ritual that I have ever had the pleasure of attending. This year feels so…. it just feels so much more. Things are happening. Things are moving, changing. The gods are calling, the woods beckon, the fire of light and life ignites in our souls. Welcome summer.
A Rainy Day and 8 Coloured Pencils…
Brighde has called to me since my visit to the White Spring in Glastonbury (and twice before) and I have answered that call. I am currently exploring her Fire element. Here’s what the inspiration of Brighde provided this afternoon…
Fire of Brighde ©Joanna van der Hoeven 2014
Fire of Brighde, ©Joanna van der Hoeven 2014
Fire of Brighde, ©Joanna van der Hoeven 2014
Go slowly in the Springtime…
This morning I accidentally ran over a small, young rabbit.
Living where I do, accidents such as these are unavoidable at times. Springtime is the worst time, as youngsters are making their way further and further from their homes, unaware of the dangers of the road. Baby birds that are not yet fully proficient in flying, young badgers and even deer that haven’t seen a car in their life. I carry special gloves in my car to take those I find left on the road and bring them to a more respectful distance, to be taken by the ants and foxes, the crows and other creatures. I’ve picked up all manner of roadkill from other people where they have just left it – even putting my back out once dragging a dead deer stag from the middle of the road where it endangered drivers coming around a blind bend. How people could just leave animals that they have hit is beyond me. I’ve had to call the police to inform them of deer that had been hit on the highway and that was still alive, blocking a lane, thereby getting police and environment officials there to kill the deer humanely as quickly as possible, and see that no one else gets hurt. It infuriated me that no one else bothered to take responsibility – no one else had made that call before me.
It doesn’t make it any easier, no matter how much death you see. Picking up the warm, soft furry body, its entrails in my other hand I carried it to the side of the road and placed it gently beneath the hedgerow. I was struck for a moment at how some Druids of old, such as the famed Boudicca would have read the entrails of a sacrificed hare to foretell battle outcomes, if classical sources are correct. I thought about how gentle my Druidry is compared to that, and how I would not change it for the world. As I lay its body on the ground, the green grass and nettles growing up towards the sun, all I could think was “I’m so sorry”. I asked that the gods be kind, and that they may forgive as this little one goes back to the earth from whence it came. A crow directly overhead cawed as I finished my prayer.
I know it may seem odd, asking pagan gods for forgiveness – many would say that attitude is for another religion. However, at that moment it felt utterly right – it was the first step towards making amends for the taking of a life. It acknowledged responsibility as well as regret. Whether the gods accepted it or not I do not know – the crow cawed just at that moment, but he may have just been greeting his mates, or laughing at me, or genuinely speaking for the spirits of that area.
Accepting responsibility for the taking of a life is a concept that was well known to the Celtic ancestors in this country. Whether accidentally or not, reparation must be made and responsibility claimed for one’s own actions. Stopping and taking the little body to a better resting spot was just the first step towards reparation. Asking forgiveness and expressing sorrow and regret was the second. Making a donation to the Hare Trust upon reaching work the third, and tonight in a small ritual an offering will be made to the spirits of place for peace. None of this will bring that little life back. However, it is a constant reminder of my place in the cycle of life, in the grand web of all our lives, how we are all connected, and how each of us is responsible for our actions.
Why all this effort just for a rabbit, some may wonder? To me, all life is sacred – it is why I am a Druid and a vegan. Ideas of reciprocity and responsibility are at the forefront of my worldview. I take what I have learned from our Celtic ancestors and apply the wisdom found in their teachings into modern life. Ancient Celts may not have felt so sorrowful at killing a bunny – but I’m not an ancient Celt. I don’t eat the meat, I cannot make use of the body, and so it seems dishonourable not to do something to make amends for the taking of its life. I live in a different world to the ancient Celts, and thereby must apply their wisdom into my modern worldview in the best way that I can to ensure that my life is lived fully, aware and awake and with honour.
Driving home, I shall drive even slower than I usually do, no matter what the cars behind me think. I am a part of my environment, a part of a very special ecosystem and I will do all that I can to preserve it, to cherish it and to honour it with all that I am. For me, there is no other way.
Reblog: Peace – Knowing When to Speak Out and When to Keep Silent
This is a reblog from my latest post at SageWoman Magazine’s channel, on Witches and Pagans: for the full article click HERE
This past week I have had to hold my tongue. Sometimes it felt like I was holding my tongue so hard all I could taste was blood.
A few people have told me that I should have spoken up, said my piece right there and then, never holding back. However, what I have learned in my own life experience and in my Druid path is that there is time to speak up, and a time to hold your tongue. It all relates to one word – peace.
It has often been said that the Druids were not only the political advisors and religious authority to the Celts, but that they were also the peacemakers within society. They had the power to walk between the battle lines without being harmed, such was their honouring of the notion of peace and their own personal authority and control. As a student of Zen Buddhism as well as Druidry, I have come to know the concept of peace from another worldview that blends in beautifully with what I hold to be true in my path.
Peace is when there is no need. Peace is when we are able to step outside of our ego and relate to the world with loving kindness. Peace is when we are able to find compassion, both for ourselves and for others.
Peace and truth are inexorably entwined within the Druid tradition. Only when we have discovered the nature of truth are we able to find peace. Truth is our natural place in the world, in its cycles and rhythms, the flow of life itself. It is in the riding of the currents of awen that we come to know truth in all its forms. When we know truth, we find peace…
Continued HERE
Spiritually Ill
At Samhain, by sunset I was in bed, the world was spinning. I had just gotten off the phone to cancel the evening’s ritual. I had doggedly worked through the previous two days with a headache that just wouldn’t go away, and an all over body ache that I attributed to overdoing it in yoga. Now nausea took over; I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. This was something different.
My blood boiled and the fever took over, running for the next three days. Then blisters began to appear, and I knew – I had chicken pox. I had managed to elude it for 39 years, and it finally caught up with me. My immune system was already weakened from a previous virus and an unrelaxing but still enjoyable holiday.
Halfway through the night we had to get up to change the sheets. The fire in my body was trying to be quenched with sweat. The pounding in my head was almost unbearable. As I dragged my aching body back into bed and into the blessed darkness, I wondered how I could deal with this illness on a spiritual level.
Using meditation techniques to calm the body and ease the headache, it was pretty easy at first. But then the rash came out, and all thoughts of coping with meditation flew out the window. The fever comes and goes, a rush of fire through the body and that is quite easy to follow along, feeling it along my body and in my bones, through my hair and rising off my body. It’s the stillness that is difficult in these circumstances. I thought my Zen and meditation training would help to ease this. I was wrong.
It was impossible to sit still. It was impossible to sleep. It still is. Lying down, you feel all the nerves reacting to the virus, sending sharp little elf shots throughout the body and into the blisters. You twitch. Even now, the twitching doesn’t stop. The mind is doing all it can to get away from the pain, from the discomfort. Trying to type these words and form a cohesive thought pattern is a real challenge.
So what to do? How to deal with the chicken pox virus spiritually as well as physically? I’ve found that my skin is soothed outside, by sitting in the backyard, letting the sun and the wind ease the pain. It doesn’t last for long – when I go back inside again it returns, but I am reminded of the moments of normalcy, of nature all around me, continuing on even as the fires rage within my body. It is a reminder that the world is bigger than you are – when we are ill, we can so easily become despondent, self-absorbed ( I know – writing a blog about this is a tad on the solipsism side, but bear with me).
I look at my cat, who has been fighting with a stomach infection for months now. She doesn’t seem terribly bothered by it – animals deal with pain and illness, death and dying so much better than most humans. They have an innate grace when it comes to it, all things considered. And so I take inspiration from nature to help me combat the mental and physical challenges that lie ahead this week.
I let the awen flow.
I also hit the bottle of calamine lotion, and take some white willow bark.
I feel that this is also a turning point – the Celtic New Year has begun. My body is undergoing some serious trials right now, and I feel that at the end of this journey I will have learned something valuable. I was not able to perform any Samhain rituals, but did light a candle for the ancestors and leave it in the front and rear windows of the home, like I do every year, to guide the dead on their journey. A couple of days later I was able to sit in my altar room and, after trying and giving up on meditation I turned to my oldest set of cards for inspiration. What did I need to learn from this, I asked? The card I drew was Initiation.
And so, I feel that this is telling me to stop, to slow down even, to see the new phase in my life. To literally do nothing. To deal with pain. To deal with suffering. To get on and be inspired by life. To let go of all concepts related to my looks. To let go of all thoughts of the future. To enjoy the moment. To simply be. There is nothing like pain to get you in the present moment, if you truly open yourself up to it.
It has showed me that even though I talk about slowing down, and not taking on so many commitments, that I need to walk the talk. I have talked about slowing down for months now, and yet keep accepting new work, birthing new ideas and letting the awen flow. What I need to do is to retreat, to stop for a bit, to perhaps stem the flow of awen pouring out, and focus on it pouring back in.
This illness has really highlighted that for me. Exchange, relationship. I talk about this a lot, and yet now see how unbalanced I was in it. And so, learning from this episode in my life, I start the new year unable to do much except sit and read, or watch the birds as the sun sets a little closer each evening. There are books to read, sacred places to visit. A retreat from the world in order to better engage with it – this is what the monastic tradition is all about. It’s calling to me at the moment. Time to ponder on thoughts of the self, to chop wood and carry water. The cool breeze from the open window beside me is so delicious on my hot and blistered skin.
Is this how to deal with illness as a Druid? Maybe – each person’s journey is different, and sacred. May yours be walked in balance and harmony, in darkness and in light with equal joy and yes, pain.
Down the Forest Path 