life

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Little Pagan Monastery

chalicwell1So, after a lot of interest in my previous Pagan Monasticism blog posts, it looks like I will be co-running a retreat weekend this winter at Chalice Well Gardens, called the Little Pagan Monastery.  The dates haven’t been confirmed yet, but we’re looking at something between October and December 2013, and then again in the summer of 2014.

The Little Pagan Monastery will give people a brief glimpse into a pagan monastic life – the weekend will be structured around daily prayers, meditations, lectures, chores around the houses and Chalice Well Gardens, as well as outings to the White Spring and Glastonbury Tor.  It will be a weekend of the contemplative life – a time to devote yourself 100% to your gods and spirituality in the tranquil setting of Chalice Well Gardens. It is open to all pagans.  Expect to rise with the dawn! We will also have out of hours access to the Chalice Well Gardens, and will end the weekend with ritual.

Prices have yet to be determined, as we need a rough estimate of numbers first.  We are aiming to keep the cost of this weekend as low as possible, to enable everyone no matter what their financial circumstances are the opportunity to dip their toes into pagan monastic life.  We’re hoping that everyone will go away nurtured by the weekend, and finding new and imaginative ways of incorporating more spirituality in their daily lives, should they so wish.

If you are interested, please email me at autumnsong@hotmail.co.uk to be put on the sign-up list.  When we have a good idea of numbers, we will then let people know the financial costs and proceed from there. Space will be very limited, so please get in touch as soon as you can to be put on the list.

We hope to see you there!

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Ancestors

I’ve been thinking a lot about the ancestors lately.  When people think of the ancestors, the first thing that comes to mind is blood relatives from the past.  In Druidry, we honour our blood ancestors, but also those ancestors of tradition (those who have shared our worldviews) and of place (those who are a part of our land).  Yet it is not ancestors of the past that currently occupy my thoughts – it is ancestors of the future, those yet to come, that are my main guiding force in life.

I am childless by choice.  I will not have direct descendants, though I share my genetic makeup with the rest of my family, my nephews, cousins and more, which will be passed down through blood.  However, I will become a future ancestors of tradition as well as having future ancestors of tradition, and the same can be said for being and having future ancestors of place.  It is mostly to these ancestors yet to come, my future ancestors of all three groups, that direct the way in which I live my life.

Our ancestors of the past have helped to shape us, to make us what we are, though we are our own person and always have our own choices to make in life.  We can repeat past mistakes or we can change – it is up to us.  Our ancestors of the future do not have the luxury of choice – they are stuck with whatever it is that we provide them.  With the world being in such a mess, alongside the moments of pure beauty, I worry about what I will leave for them.

Emma Restall Orr states on her website that she endeavours to live a life of which her ancestors would be proud.  That is a beautiful and motivating sentiment – and is especially poignant for our future ancestors.  We have the option of learning from our previous ancestors to make this world a better place, in however big or small a way, for our future ancestors.  Apathy has no place in my worldview – everything we do matters.

I have made mistakes in my past. I have had glorious achievements.  I can acknowledge all of these, and today be the best person I can be, for the sake of my future ancestors of blood, tradition and place.  There is no time to wallow in guilt, or to rest on my laurels – every single deed, every single action right now will have an effect on the future.  The past is there to teach us, the future is there to direct us, and the present moment exists to capture all that we can be in this moment in time.

Heathenry, or the Northern Tradition in paganism, has a beautiful saying – “We are our deeds”.  We must live up to it.  The past is gone, the future ungraspable – so make this very moment count.  Live honourably, with awareness.  To my future ancestors, know that you are honoured.

 

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Pagan Monasticim Part 2

eco villageEver since I read Marion Zimmer Bradley’s The Mists of Avalon about 20 years ago, I’ve always been in love with the idea of a group of priestesses or priests, living separate on an island, surrounded by the mists and completely dedicated to the goddesses and gods of their choice. From the moment they wake up, to the moment they sleep, and even in their dreams, they are 100% devoted to their religion.

This lovely tale can inspire us, even if it is unattainable, in modern day society.  As well, with my previous blog post the question of segregation, of separation from the outside world comes up – would this be the right thing to do for a pagan monastery?

I’ve been thinking about this solidly for two days since I posted my short, and quite quickly written little blog on the dream.  This had grown, solidified, and I am now looking into things like the logistics of it, the ethics and spiritual pathways.  So, what would my Pagan Monastery be like?

First of all, I’d have to start playing the lottery in able to have a chance at winning it.  I would then use whatever is left from the winnings, after distributing it between those that are in desperate need of it, to create the Pagan Monastery.  This would entail buying land that either had a suitable building on it that could house several people at once, and also put up people who wanted to come on retreat, or at least have the option to build something that would suit our purposes. The land would be essential, for we would need enough to grow as much of our own food as possible.  Ideally, it would incorporate areas of woodland, or if not, then these would be planted – not in neat little rows but sown in as wild and natural a way as possible, and lovingly maintained.  Even buying land that has come under threat from developers, or perhaps held in trust, like the wonderful, magical Sinfield Trust in Suffolk – imagine a monastery on that site! (www.sinfieldtrust.org).  If we had to build, or expand upon the buildings already there, imagine eco-friendly structures, solar and wind powered.

I pondered in the earlier blog post whether I would have to give up my relationship to my husband to commit myself to my goddesses – and I’ve discovered that the answer is no.  The Pagan Monastery would include families, and provide a supporting atmosphere – a real sense of community.  People can live and love as they choose, as long as the tenets of respect, devotion, honour, integrity, discipline and community are adhered to.

The Pagan Monastery would allow for many gods to be worshipped.  There would be altars and shrines for differing deities, kept by those that love and follow the path of their deity.  Communal prayers as well as solitary prayers would be given.  The seasonal festivals and moon rites would be kept, sometimes honouring a particular deity, sometimes incorporating all, or offering a more generic version.  Private rituals and rites could be undertaken at any point by those who wish to go deeper into the vision of their goddesses and gods, the ancestors and the spirits of place.

There would be a routine adhered to.  Discipline is not a bad word in the Pagan Monastery.  People would rise at dawn where possible (ie. new mothers, fathers and children need their sleep as and when they can get it) and meditate, followed by solitary prayer.  Those that wish to would then gather for the communal meal – others who wish to continue in a solitary fashion can do so.  Chores would then be undertaken – the cooking and cleaning, either communally or solitary.  Work on the crops, on conservation, on letter writing to protest destruction of wild habitats, chopping wood, tending herb garden, tree planting, laundry, child caring, litter picking along the highways; all manner of work could fall under this banner.  Those that wish to work in the community can do so, and leave the monastery to perform their “day job”, so long as it is not against the tenets of the monastery.  Working within the community would, indeed, be an essential part of the monastery. A portion of the salary of those with day jobs would go to the monastery in lieu of physical work undertaken during the day. Those that wish to remain on site can also do so – each would perform in the best capacity that they could.

Noon day prayers would be given communally. Following that, a lunch, and then either more work for those that choose to do so or perhaps attending a lecture, talk, workshop.  In the hours between that and supper, people would be encouraged to exercise, to get out and commune with nature, or partake in journal-writing, craftwork, etc.  This would be free time.  Those that leave the monastery to work in the community then return home, and have some time to “decompress” should they so desire. Then supper, again either communally or solitary, depending upon the person.  Prayers before each meal are essential, to give thanks for the bounty.

Evening prayers would be communal for those that wish to, filled with beautiful song, chants, poems, dance, and other inspiration received during the day.  The evening would be filled with stories, or discussions, or ritual dependent upon the time of year. Then, meditation for those that wish, and also bed – for those night owls, this routine would be different.

Retreats would be offered to those who seek to learn more – weekend retreats would be ideal.  Newcomers would be introduced to the routines, and take their part in the community, to do their share and get to experience what monastic life would be like for the pagan.  These retreats would be paid for by the retreatees, and funds going to the monastery for essentials – any excess then devoted to designated charities.

The Pagan Monastery would be a place of learning.  It would welcome and organise guest speakers to come and teach the community new things.  It would be a designated holy space for all pagans to come and spend some time, in prayer, in learning, in work and in devotion.

These are just some of the things that I envision for the Pagan Monastery.  While it may only be a dream, things are falling into place for a Little Pagan Monastery – ie. weekend retreats in a monastic style, with the routine outlined above, workshops, lectures and ritual.  Held perhaps quarterly, at either the cross-quarter days or the solar festivals, these retreats would bring together those who long for that monastic feel, a retreat to recharge the batteries and inspire the individual monastic style.

Watch this space.

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The White Serpent Rising and the Goddess of Spring

The earth is stirring, can you feel it? Walking out in the sunshine today, I felt that same feeling that I had when I was a child back in Canada, that first day when the roads are clear, though still thick with sand, and you can take your bicycle out after the long winter months.  That smell of warming ground, of sunlight and fresh breezes, that scent of spring lingering, filtering through every fibre of your soul.  The scent of life.

Today has been warm, the sun’s strength heating the shoulders and exposed skin, pale after a long winter.  The birds are singing with renewed vigour – the great tits and blue tits, the pigeons and blackbirds, jackdaws and crows.  The trees, still snoozing lightly, have the first buds appearing, and the daffodils are mingling with the snowdrops and the hellebore that the deer have decided to stop eating.

There is anticipation all around.  What will this year bring? What new growth will there be, both in the physical and in the spiritual realms?  It’s almost like a humming, deep within the earth, that is slowly rising to the surface. Indeed, the white serpent is rising.

At Imbolc, during ritual I had a vision.  Sitting on my picnic blanket in the rural idyll of my backyard, feeling the ground beneath my feet responding to the first warm sunny day; I had a flash of vision tear through my soul – the white serpent.  Deep within the ground of these isles, there lies a white serpent of the land.  The white serpent IS the land.  It connects all of this land, and it is the heart and soul personified.  I was connected to everything and everyone, and it was inspiring.

This land, England, and indeed the whole of the UK and Ireland, has been inhabited by humans for an indeterminably long time.  I can feel it when I place my hands on the soil here – it is different to Canada, where although humans have lived there for just as long, there are vast expanses of land where no human foot has ever trod.  With space limited in these emerald isles, the songs of humanity run deep through it, alongside that of everything else that makes these little islands so wonderful.

With the deeds to my house, I have old, handwritten ones that go back hundreds and hundreds of years, to when the land was first purchased, and became an orchard, and then “hovels” existed upon it in the Victorian era, growing into cottages and finally the houses that are seen today.  There is a lot of human history here, alongside the natural history that is incredibly fascinating.  Sitting outside today, I could feel the old apple trees, long since cut down, stirring in the first soft light of spring.  Voices of those who lived here, mingling on the breeze with the birdsong and the sound of airplanes, high overhead, bound for the west.

And through it all the white serpent was stirring, awakening from the slumber and rising to the surface. Incredibly beautiful, this white dragon-like being enveloped it all, and still does, closer to the surface now – I’m quite certain that at either Beltane or Midsummer it will be revealed in all its glory.

I have done some research on this white serpent – it is not the white wyrm of the Saxon heritage. It is entirely British, entirely native to these isles.  I have come across a few references of a white serpent and the goddess Brigit, whom I’ve always been intrigued by but never had a “calling” to explore.  I’m thinking that is all going to change in the very near future.

Riding the excitement of the rising tides, like riding down the street that first time on my bicycle in the Spring – that is what life is all about.  New discoveries, and every spring we are reminded to look for these things in our lives, and to take inspiration from it all.

Blessed spring, everyone! May the Goddess of Spring bring you joy.

 

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Walk lightly in Spring, for the Earth is pregnant

The light is growing – each and every day, the sun sets a little further along the horizon.  Though it’s still cold, it’s nice to drive home in the light – and light enough to still be able to go for a walk when I get home.  Though walking in the dark is nice, it’s a little difficult where I live unless you carry a torch – there are no lights, no light pollution. It is complete darkness.  Torches kind of spoil it, but they do prevent you from falling in ditches…

I’ve always loved going for walks.  A chance to be alone with nature, to listen and smell and feel the earth beneath my feet.  To walk under the shared space of trees, roots curling around stones hidden beneath the ground.  Feeling the breeze on my face, in my hair.  It’s a form of prayer.

I usually go for a walk a couple of times a week, on my “days off”, ie. days when I’m writing or preparing my dance classes, workshops or performances.  I’ve decided that I’m going to try and take a walk almost every day after work – Mondays and Thursdays are a little tricky sometimes, with work and then classes the same day – but I’m still going to give it a go.  Daily sitting meditation has worked well, and now will try daily moving meditation.

Like my sitting meditation, it is a time to be fully in the moment, to be present in this space and time that I am occupying.  Unlike my sitting meditation, this seems to involve more things, more stimuli, more interaction.  Instead of just sitting on my cushion in front of my altar, listening to the sounds of the house, focusing on my breath, hearing the birds outside, feeling my spine relax, the outdoor walking meditation involves even more interaction, with so many more beings.

Connection is integral to Druidry.  A walking meditation, or an outdoor meditation, for me is the best way to establish this connection, which to me is also a form of prayer.  Prayer is communion, and communion with nature is what it’s all about.  I can walk with compassion through the landscape, honouring the land upon which I live, honouring the people that share that landscape – neighbours walking the bridleway, the dog that always barks as I walk past his domain, the hazel hollow that is dark even on the brightest of days.  Doing this daily is a great opportunity to see the community and landscape as it changes throughout the seasons, and even day by day.

It’s also a great way to de-stress, and centre yourself before you come home.  Doing something physical, even something gentle like walking, will do your body a world of good.  Even only 15 – 20 minutes a day is beneficial.  Yesterday when I entered my home, touching the doorway and saying a prayer as I crossed the threshold, I entered in a completely different frame of mind than if I had just gone from my car to porch.  Tired from work, working through anger in issues of human nature, that walk helped me to resolve everything and made me feel more refreshed and relaxed at the same time.  Simply breathing in fresh air after a day in a stuffy office, the scent of warming earth and woodsmoke on the wind, blew away the cobwebs and gave me inspiration on multiple levels – I now had the way to deal with difficult human problems, as well as more mundane issues.

I am reminded of the Native American proverb – “Walk lightly upon the Earth in the Spring, for she is pregnant…”  We must take care of our planet, our minds and our bodies, and walk with compasion.

I look forward to my walk tonight.

 

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The Kid

I just watched a Bruce Willis movie, called “The Kid”.  I enjoyed it, though it may be a bit saccharine for some – and yes, I did cry at the happy ending.  It’s a story of a bitter and spiritually dead but incredibly wealthy image consultant who meets his eight year old self, and has to relearn things about himself in order to save himself from a lonely end.  It also showed us that we should never forget our child self, and the dreams that child self had.

What did I want to be when I was eight years old? I can’t quite remember, and I’m not even sure that I thought that far ahead when I was eight.  If I did, I’m pretty sure that I would have wanted to be a fairy elven princess living in a castle in England.  Well, eight year old self, I didn’t do too bad. I’m a Druid living in a beautiful house in the English countryside – it’s pretty close.

What would I say to my eight year old self? Yes, there were rough spots and there were glorious spots.  There were heartbreaking tragedies and uplifting victories. There were mistakes and compassion, beauty and ugliness, and everything in between.  But it all turned out good.

In the movie, the 40 year old self and the eight year old self then meet the 70 year old self.  So, I wonder what my 70 year old self would say to me?  I hope that I have made that person proud, as proud as my eight year old self.  I would hope that life would be filled with love and compassion, and that I would never stop dreaming; never lose that eight year old self.

What would your eight year old self say to you?

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Druidry and the Practice of Connection

All too often in today’s society we can feel disconnected from nature, our conceptions of the “real world” and the spiritual world ever growing further apart. Druidry teaches us that the two are really one world, where spirit is real and reality is spirit. Incorporating exercises to help keep that connection strong are very useful in maintaining a holistic worldview. Here I provide some examples of things you can do every day to remind yourself that that the two are one, that connection with time, place, spirit and reality can and is achieved through everyday actions.

• Watch the sunrise/sunset every day. This is an invaluable exercise in connection with the solar tides, which in turn reflect the seasonal and yearly tides of life. Fitting in the time to either watch the sun rise or set will depend on certain factors, the main factors being work and family. If your schedule doesn’t allow you to watch the sunset during the short winter days, then try watching the sunrise instead. If even this isn’t an option, then try at least to get outside at least once, at the same time, perhaps during your lunch break, to notice where the sun is in the sky. Notice what quality of light there is at that time of year, and how it is reflected in the world around you.

• Similarly, try and watch the moonrise/moonset, if possible. Or, go outside every night and try to find the moon, watch its course through the sky in all the seasons. Watch the stars wheeling overhead, keep track of what is where during which time or season.

• Bathing can be seen as connecting with the very important spirit of water. A ritual that can be done every day, really feel water upon your skin, whether it is a bath, shower or simply washing your face. Immerse your hands into the water and feel its energy, the power that it holds. Find out where your water comes from, and visit that place if at all possible. Learn about your water – it doesn’t just magically come out of the tap from nowhere! This will help you to connect with water in a very positive way.

• Cooking is a good example of connecting with your food, and your loved ones. Finding out where your food comes from, who grew it, are all important factors to consider. Get back in touch with your food – literally. Don’t just peel a potato – feel its skin, the mud and dirt clinging to it, smell the woody, earthy smell, look at it with all its lumps and bumps and colours. This can be done with all food – as children, we explore our food, yet as adults we lose that curiosity and become complacent. When preparing your meal, know that what you are preparing will nourish you, and any others that you are feeding. Give back a little of your meal to the earth in thanks for what you have received.

• Grow something from seed. This really connects you to the power that is life – by watching something throughout its cycle, by tending and caring for it, you will find a connection with that spark that inspires all things to live.

• Meditate every day. Whether inside or outside, taking this time out for yourself to connect with nature and your environment is invaluable. You will feel calmer, more at peace, losing that sense of dis-ease that so pervades our society. Listen to the world around you, feel and see what is happening. A small meditation every day is like a mini-ritual – it is simply taking time out to be, to notice and to honour that specific moment.

Having that connection with the natural world naturally leads us to living a more honourable and sustainable relationship. By taking time out to pause, to notice and to honour our world will help strengthen and nourish that relationship. Think about things you might to do further your connection with the natural world – then go out and do it! You will find yourself blessed with knowledge and a richness in spirit.

 

(From an aritcle I wrote for The Druid Network a couple of years ago – http://druidnetwork.org/en/node/1540)

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Imbolc

snowdropslambs Imbolc – when the first signs of Spring begin to appear after a dark winter on these British Isles.  I have always found this seasonal celebration to be one of the “softer” celebrations – the quieter, more solitary of the rites from the pagan Wheel of the Year.  Usually, any snow that we receive in January is long gone, those one or two brief weeks of the year when a beautiful mantle of white covers the ground, allowing a period of rest and quiet.  In Suffolk, the snows melted over the weekend with the sun and the rain, and the birds, especially the great and blue tits have come out in full force, their songs echoing through the little streambed valley behind my house.  The blackbird cocks are fighting over the food supply, expending far too much energy when they could simply share and all eat a fine meal – instincts are hard to overcome.  The little muntjac deer are often in the garden, day and night, eating birdseed and the first green shoots from various places in my garden, leaving their fertilising little pellets everywhere – a fair exchange, in my opinion. The air is warmer now, the sun holds some strength when it is out in full glory, the pond is thawing and the first signs of new growth are slowly appearing.

Many Druids celebrate Imbolc as the festival of snowdrops, when these seemingly fragile little flowers first appear.  Others celebrate when the ewes begin the lambing season, and the lactation cycle begins.  It was an important time for our ancestors, as this time of year was the hungry time – the winter food stores were running low, and the flow of new milk a welcome and necessary part of survival.  Cheese could once more be made, to accompany the last of the supplies until the first wild food and crops came into season.

I normally celebrate Imbolc when the first snowdrops appear, but I fear my little deer friends may have eaten the first shoots, and perhaps my daffodil bulbs as well.  This year, it is the softness in the air that alerts me to the coming of Spring, to Imbolc.  The birdsong has changed, the snows have melted and everything is slowly awakening from a long slumber. Imbolc comes in the warm southerly breezes, a festival of the element of Air.

With gifts of bread, milk, cheese and song, I give back to the earth, nourishing the little creatures that share the place where I live.  It is a time of reflection – a time to recall the dreams that we dreamt over the long winter, the ones that appeared to us at the winter solstice in the darkest time of the year.  These dreams, like everything, require nourishment, especially at this time of year, or they will fail to come into reality.  And so, at this time of year, we focus, we concentrate our energies into making these dreams come true – we plan, we figure out the logistics, and we celebrate.

It is not yet time to plant these dream seeds, however – February and March can be difficult months, both in the natural world and in the human environment.  Outside, the weather can change in an instant, and we may get more snow, or thick frosts – our seeds would quickly sprout and then die.  In the human environment, February and March are, for many, a financially difficult time of the year. Bills from the holiday season come in, fuel bills and other heating sources must be paid for, and work shifts can decrease due to the slow months after the January sales for those not on a permanent salary. We must carefully look at our resources, and our dreams, to ensure that they don’t fail in these hungry months ahead.

So we plan, and we patiently await the time until the tide turns, at the Spring Equinox, where the days finally become longer than the nights, and our dreams finally emerge from hibernation into the light of reality.  So too do our bodies respond, like the snowdrops and daffodils, to this increase of light from the winter solstice – if we can just make it through to Imbolc, we find that the darkness is in fact receding, that our moods, our bodies, our finances are recovering, and we wait in anticipation for Spring. We need to focus, to concentrate, on making them a reality.  The intention is everything.

May you hold your dreams with nurturing love, and may they be blessed by the coming of Spring.

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The Nature of Prayer

A television show that I enjoy, which originally aired in the late 90’s through to 2002, is Dharma and Gregg. It is about a free-spirited woman with two hippy parents who is very spiritual, very loving and very funny. She marries a conservative born and bred lawyer, and the exchange and growth between the two is what makes this such a great show.

At one point Dharma is praying in a hospital chapel, and her spirit guide, a Native American named George whom she connected with personally before he died, comes to her aid and offers advice in her time of need. He hears her praying, having a conversation with whatever deity will listen, and offers these very poignant words which I remember to this very day.

“So, you’re having a conversation with the Great Spirit, the Creator of All Things, and you’re doing the talking?”

This, indeed defines for me the nature of what prayer is seen as today. Even if we are not asking for anything, a lot of prayer consists of a one-way conversation between the individual and the deity/spirit in question. Prayer is a relationship, for me – and as such necessitates a give and take in everything, including both spoken and unspoken words. Too often in prayer, we forget to listen.

Have you ever had to listen to someone go on and on, and know that they are simply enjoying their own drama? If someone comes to you and asks sincerely for advice, then they will tell their tale and then listen – otherwise it is simply a self-indulgence that is ego-based. Communing with deity means a communication from both sides.

Prayer is also not something done only in times of need. How annoying is it when a friend only comes to you when they need something? A good relationship is being there for someone, to listen and aid a friend, and with a Zen attitude, not expect anything in return. This is a huge ask. I’m not terribly great at it – I still have some expectations, though I am working on the philosophy behind the Zen attitude. I’ve had friends that only take from you, physically or spiritually, and give nothing back. It isn’t nurturing, and that is the main difference, I think.

For relationships don’t simply happen – they do require nurturing and attention, kind of like a houseplant, when I come to think of it. There are some friends who I don’t see for years, due to distance, but when I do see them it is like no time has ever passed, no miles could ever come between. It is because these friends nourish me, as I hope I do for them. It is the same with the gods – some I haven’t communed with for years, but they still hold a special place in my heart, which is renewed upon experience. I sincerely hope this doesn’t sound too self-centred.

I’ve since dropped the friends who are no longer nurturing, who only have their best interests to heart. I have been used by several people, and it’s never nice. The same goes with any deity – I will not pray to any god or goddess who is simply in it for themselves. I seek wholesome, nurturing relationships with my gods, my friends and the environment – it is part and parcel of being a Druid.

So what is the nature of Prayer? The nature is to nurture. It is to establish a connection that sustains everyone involved and which makes this world a better place. It is a give and take, listening and responding, with honour and with integrity and to the best of our ability.

Life itself is prayer.