nemetona

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Working with Kindness

Many religions and spiritualities the world over teach that kindness and compassion is the way to live your life in order the create harmony and peace not only for yourself, but for the rest of the world.  This is a form of service, which I think may be lacking in much of modern paganism.  It is in the service to others where we truly shine.  The Sisterhood of Avalon states it beautifully in a triad – service to the self, service to the Sisterhood and service to the Goddess.  Like most things, it starts from within and then spreads to the wider community and the world at large.  Sadly, perhaps due to the growing number of self-help books and various psychologies, this service tends to stop at the self.  Instant gratification in our capitalist society combined with living in relative ease can allow complacency in our lives and in our minds.  We can become grasping even, wanting to be healed, looking for that one thing or one person who will heal us, as we have been taught my marketing campaigns the world over.  Me, me me. I, I, I.

There seems to be a great need for healing in the world today.  Paganism embraces this healing with open arms, honouring it in all its various forms.  We are often told that we must first heal ourselves before we can heal others. In this, I very much agree.  It’s often the hardest thing to heal yourself – focusing on others is much easier than coming face to face with your own pain, grief, demons or shadow self.  However, we can become too engrossed in looking inwards that we forget to look outwards as well.  Too much self-awareness and not enough external awareness.  It can even border on or become egocentric.

The key here I believe lies in kindness.  Through these last few months, when the darkness of winter takes hold and we are gifted with the time and space to reflect, we can look at how we can be kind to ourselves.  This is the best thing we can do for ourselves in terms of our own healing.  It is easier to forgive others for hurting us, or causing us stress, grief or pain than it is to forgive ourselves for doing things that we regret.  Yet we must look at ourselves in the same light as we do others and be able to forgive ourselves in order to move the service from self to others, through the act of love and kindness.  This is our service to our self.

We have to be aware of our edges – we must create boundaries so that when we allow kindness to flow through us we have an awareness that not everyone will be kind in return.  This is not a shutting down or closing off of the soul to others – it is simply being prepared.  Like meeting a strange dog or cat for the first time, we are unsure as to how they will react, and so we proceed with caution.  We still show compassion and love and try to help them should they need it in any way possible. We will also do all that we can to prevent being bitten. This is our service to others.

I have been too open – I have not guarded my boundaries as well as I should have. I have loved freely and been bitten on the ass in return.  I have learned to use boundaries to let me help myself and to help others.  In Brian Froud’s latest faery oracle card deck, there is a card that I drew called The Lady of Faith.  She wears a helmet and shoulder armour, but her breast is bare of armour and she is leaning towards something with a hand to her heart.  This card shows that we must protect ourselves but still allow our hearts to move us in kindness and compassion.

I recently saw a documentary on Phil Robertson, of Duck Dynasty fame about how he transformed his life through his religion and coming to know God and Jesus.  While we may not share the same religious points of view we can agree that it all comes down to kindness.  He described when he was making a living fishing on the river and other “river rats” would come and steal from his nets.  After he had found Jesus, he worked with the idea of kindness and so, when he caught them stealing again, offered them the fish freely.  They took it and responded to his kindness by never stealing from him again.  Phil stated that he will act towards all things with kindness, but still carry a shotgun in case all things weren’t kind to him.

This is very similar to a Zen Buddhist story, where a monk is sitting and praying in his cave high on the mountaintop. A thief comes upon him and threatens him. The monk looks at the thief and states that if he wanted his possessions so badly, feeling he had to threaten and steal them, then he would freely give them if that was his need.  The thief left bewildered and the monk sat outside, looking up at the moon.  “If only I could have given him this beautiful moon”, he said. (Some argue that the monk should have done a Phil Roberston and had a shotgun as well, but that doesn’t fit in with the peaceful and non-violent ideals that the monk held to.)

Living to our ideals, exploring our shadow aspects (those aspects of the soul that we fear, that we loathe, that we deny) and giving back to the world results naturally in leading the way to the further service to the gods.  We dedicate our lives to kindness and compassion with full awareness and in doing so, reflect the true nature of not only our being, but of being.  For me, the gods that I follow all have an aspect of peace and kindness that we can find in their stories to inspire us along our own life’s journey.  Tyr, most often seen as a god of war and justice, to me also represents kindness to animals and loyalty as when he fed the wolf, Fenris, when no one else would.  Nehelennia, the goddess of the North Sea rages and leaves us with a fresh world – sometimes battered but ever inspired by the impermanence of all things.  Morrighan heals after the battles and rejuvenates after the blood is spilled.  Nemetona teaches of boundaries as well as love and peace.  In this I have dedicated myself to learning and being open to the awen of their songs.

Through coming into our own true potential, we are better able to serve ourselves, our community and our gods.  The key to it all is through kindness.  How very simple, how often this message had been repeated over thousands of years. How easy it is to forget in today’s society.  Yet when we open ourselves to the possibilities and let kindness lead us in our actions, peace and harmony are a natural result.

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Why should the Gods care?

Do the Gods care?  I’m not so sure.

In my own experience, I know that the wild gods especially, those of heath and forest, of the seas and wind, of storm and sunshine, do not care about what happens to humanity.  They simply follow their nature, their path.  In my perception, the universe does not care.  I remember in Pirates of the Caribbean, when the goddess of the sea, Calypso, was asked why she had a change of heart about a man that she once loved, simply stated in that slow, West Indes drawl: “It is my nature”.  They may interact with us, but do they have our best interests at heart? Some may, but some may not.  Some may not even acknowledge us – the hurricane passes through despite our pleas, following its own song of wind and water, doing what is in its nature to do.  The sun shines down relentlessly on the crops, burning the fields or ripening the wheat dependent upon other weather conditions during the season.  Our best interests are not on their agenda.

And why should they be?  It is the human fallacy, that mindset of us being the centre of the universe?  Why should we be the recipients of all that we perceive to be good in the world, and why do we rail against the perceived tragedy? Yes, an earthquake is devastating, and can kill thousands of people, causing pain and anguish among humanity, and all other creatures that suffer from its effects.  But the earthquake is not at fault (pardon the pun) – that is the nature of the earthquake.  It will not seek out a place where it can cause the least destruction, nor vice versa – it happens where it needs to happen, where the elements dictate it should be, where the song takes it.  It does not consider the repercussions it will have on anything.

These wild gods are of a totally different consciousness to us, and it can be damned hard to relate to. That is why we often anthropomorphise them, in order to be able to relate.  It is easier to talk to a god of thunder, who struts around wielding a great hammer against giants than it is to talk to a thundercloud, or the lightning.  These gods, who we have given human form – do they care for us?

By giving them some sort of humanity, we automatically assume that they should. After all, they look like us, talk like us, have adventures that we can relate to.  We have created these wonderful stories about them.  We care for them, we devote ourselves to them – should they not do the same?

This can often be the falling down point in relationships with the gods for many people.  I have known people who have abandoned the gods, because they have lost loved ones, or had other trauma in their lives that the gods did not intercede in.  My question would be – why should they intercede?  At the moment, I have a very ill cat, who is not responding to medication.  I have prayed to Bridget for healing strength to help her get over the illness, and to give us all strength and knowledge of the illness so that we may better cope with it.  So far the results of the prayers have not been successful – should I therefore abandon all relationship with Bridget? It I did, then I would be assuming that the gods are “on call” for us, for our whims and demands and pleas for help.

They are not.

I have relationships with several gods, to help me understand them, and the ways of the world a little better, but I know that I am not special; that should I receive healing energy from Bridget it would not be because she is granting me a favour, or a gift.  What I hope to achieve through my relationship with her is a better understanding of the bigger picture in life, beyond my own mortal limitations in order to better my own situation.

I don’t think Bridget really cares whether or not my cat lives or dies.  She may, however, help me to understand the illness better, to help me find the inspiration and strength to continue through my relationship with her. Sometimes just talking to someone about it helps, even if you cannot see them.  Like the Catholic confession, simply talking to someone can sometimes clarify things in your own mind.  The priest taking the confession will give advice, tell you how many Hail Marys or acts of contrition you must do to absolve you of the sin that you committed – but the priest does not care, per se – they are simply acting on behalf of what they believe their god would like their followers to do.

Does this leave me feeling a bit lonely, a bit unwanted and left out because my gods do not care about me?  Not really.  My gods teach me how to cope with the world – Nemetona teaches me about sanctuary and sacred space, where I can in myself learn about finding those places where I can be free. She does not grant them to me, but shows me how to find them through her and through my own practice.  Similarly, Frigge does not care for me in any motherly or matronly sort of way, nor Freya – what they do is provide me with inspiration to keep my household in good order, or to talk through relationship issues.  They are not Dial-A-Gods with whom to pray to for help with this or that; through our ongoing relationship with them we begin to see how we can find the awen in their stories and weave that into our own lives.

Sometimes it may feel like our pleas are heard – that someone receives a miraculous recovery, or the tidal wave does not reach the shore. However, I would posit that this has nothing to do with us personally.  The infection may go away because of the mindset and resulting physiological effects this has on a person who knows that others are praying for them, or who have made them a special amulet.  Does this have anything to do with directed energy from the gods themselves? I’m not so sure – I think it has more to do with the inspiration these gods have given humanity to fix it, or try to fix it, themselves.  I could, of course, be totally wrong.

The fact that the gods don’t care does not affect my relationship with them. The tree at the bottom of my garden does not care whether I live or die, neither do the horses in the field, the frogs in the pond, the throngs of humanity who have no knowledge that I even exist.  Does this mean that I should not love them? I don’t think so.

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Excerpt from upcoming book, Dancing with Nemetona

This excerpt deals with the relationship that I see between the two elusive goddesses of Elen and Nemetona….

I’ve always thought of Nemetona as a relation to the ever elusive goddess, Elen.  The antlered goddess, Elen is currently undergoing a bit of a resurrection today, with more and more people discovering Her, though physical sources explaining Her and Her attributes are few and far between.  Elen is a wild goddess, found deep within the wood.  Hidden in the shadows of the trees, she watches you with eyes millennia old. You may catch a brief glimpse of her, and then she is gone, flitting silent as ghost amidst the snowy boughs, disappearing in a heartbeat. She is the heartbeat of the wood, of the wild places, of heathland and moorland. She dances under the moon in star-filled skies, her dance exhilarating and free. And in the blink of an eye she is gone, lost in the mist that slowly curls over the land in eloquent drifts.

 Elen seems to have escaped the history books and academia of the human race. She knows this, and it pleases her greatly. You cannot know her without seeking her out, in the wild places, in the darkness and in the light, in the heat and in the cold. She is to be experienced, not to be read about. She is Elen of the Ways, of the trackways and paths that cross both nature and the human soul. She is a physical deity – you must put one foot in front of the other if you are ever to know her. If you are lucky, you can find the ancient pathways she had trod, leaving her energy behind, enticing you further, deeper into the heart of the wood, where the mysteries lie. Follow the footprints – in the snow, in the mud, in the sand. The cloven hoof of the deer will lead you to her. They are her children, they are Her. Like the deer, she is grace and strength, she is trusting and wary, she is capable of great stillness and explosive action. She is curious and wise, and she will beckon you further in if your heart is open.

Even as Elen embodies the wild aspects of our souls, Nemetona is that which is held in deep reverence, in sanctuary.  Elen runs wild and free throughout the forest, Nemetona holds that spirit safe within the bounds of her circle, the sacred glade at the heart of the wood.  Both goddesses have very little academic and historical knowledge available about them – however both are very much present here in the British Isles, and indeed throughout the world. 

For me, Nemetona walks gracefully in the heart of the sacred grove, robed in natural linens, white limbs shining in the moonlight, her long dark hair flowing down her back.  Elen runs free, flitting between the great trunks of the trees, ghostly as the deer, her limbs browned by the sun and her wild red hair tumbling free about her shoulders.  Elen’s pathways often lead to Nemetona at the sacred heart of the wood.  They often smile to each other, honouring each other and the sanctity of the sacredness of all things. 

For those lucky enough to physically have a sacred grove, a forest or woodland to go to on a regular basis, making that commitment to spend time in that very special place can be an excellent way to meet with Nemetona, and indeed her wilder sister, Elen.  If you can, find a space where you can go as often as you can, to walk beneath the boughs, to become a part of the forest or wood.  If there is a glade within the wood, so much the better – it doesn’t have to be big.  Sit and meditate there, dance in the moonlight, make offering to Nemetona in order to establish that deep connection to Her in her sacred grove that words just cannot even begin to describe.

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Excerpt from upcoming book, Dancing with Nemetona

From Lady of Boundaries and Edges Chapter…

Opening our nemeton requires a level of ability and trust.  We close ourselves off on so many levels each and every day simply because of the sensory overload that we are exposed to through people, media and more.  We have so many demands on our life that if a stranger came up to us in need after a hectic day, we may shut ourselves off completely from them and not provide the help that they might need, however simple and genuine their request may be.  Our cat may come to us for a cuddle, and we don’t even notice as we are too busy distracting ourselves with television and high fat food.  We switch off constantly, and we must relearn how not to do this, and instead be aware and mindful of our nemeton and how it interacts with others.

I am writing on the computer upstairs, my fingers clacking the keyboard in the late evening sunshine.  I vaguely hear my husband’s car as he drives down the street and into the driveway.  Absorbed in my work, I don’t really hear the front door opening.  He shouts “Hello!” as he enters – I mumble something incoherently as I try to keep my train of thought and the words spreading out onto the white computer screen in front of me.  He comes up the stairs and I don’t even hear that.  He enters the room, kissing my right cheek, then my left.  His nemeton extends to wrap itself around me.  And yet I withdraw, fully engaged in writing, and my nemeton snapping shut.  He kisses the right side of my neck, then the left, and I am barely able to refrain from sighing aloud in frustration as I need to finish this piece.  My nemeton, unbeknownst to me now, sends sparks of shooting energy, pushing him away. He kisses me once more, I cannot even remember where now, and then goes to sit on the bed where the cat has come in to greet him. I continue typing, getting it out, needing a last little bit of concentration. I have no knowledge yet of how I have dishonoured him and myself, and even the cat. 

As he sits on the bed and fusses the cat, I turn around and see his nemeton, a little wounded, withdrawn around his chest.  But as he scratches the cat, and sees the bliss on her face, his soul opens to her little soul and once again his nemeton is where it should be, open and joyous in his own home.  I apologise and stop typing, coming over to sit within his arms while together we stroke the cat and share in the embrace of Nemetona.

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Excerpt from new book: Dancing With Nemetona

inner hutAs well as external, physical manifestations of sanctuary, there are also inner sanctuaries that we can create, filled with the blessing and the power of Nemetona – a space where we can feel safe, a place where transformation, healing, integration and all manner of things can take place.  Some Druid Paths construct what is called the Inner Grove (a place of ritual and transformation in the mind) and that shall be dealt with in a different chapter on sacred groves.  What I would like to suggest here is not so much an inner ritual arena, but a safe place to use as a “base” – I like to think of it as my Inner Hut.

Creating inner worlds is not only great fun, but a great way to express and confront issues that we physically may not be able to, or which may not be appropriate to do.  Several of my teachers have used the idea of an inner safe place which we can use as a starting point, and from there travel out into the wider realms of the mind, exploring what we need to explore.  We may have fantastical adventures in our inner worlds, or enjoy the more mundane things within them that we may not have the time to do in our physical world.  The Inner Hut provides the starting point, the sanctuary.

My Inner Hut is a place that I can go to in meditation, when I am called to journey, perhaps, or when I feel I need to really take a good look at something that is troubling me in my life, or when I simply need to be refreshed by the blessings that particular sanctuary provides.  If an answer isn’t available in the so-called mundane world, one may be found in the inner world.

My Inner Hut is a simple, single-room dwelling deep within the heart of an ancient forest, close to a slow-moving river that winds its way through the trees and out into the wider world beyond.  It is a simple wattle and daub hut, with a thatched roof that occasionally needs repair and a dirt floor.  Inside there is a table in the centre, with two benches on either side, a bed along one wall and a chest at the foot of the bed.  There is a much-used hearth on the back wall, and a good stack of firewood both inside and outside the hut.  There is also a chair pulled up near the hearth, and a large wooden basin on a separate smaller table under the window.  Herbs are hung to dry from the ceiling, and my staff leans in the corner by the door.

This hut is my safe space and my starting point for any adventures that I may wish to undertake in the inner realms.  Sometimes it is simply enough to just spend some time in the hut, or around it, looking at the herbs growing nearby, sitting by the river’s edge and watching the water flow past.  If there is an issue to deal with, I can either deal with it in this safe space, or venture further out into the woods to find just what it is that needs to be taken care of, knowing that I always have this safe haven, this little sanctuary to return to should it be needed.

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Boundaries: Dancing with Nemetona

Akram Khan Dance Company, from the Vertical Road tour

Akram Khan Dance Company, from the Vertical Road tour

Having danced deeply with the goddess Nemetona this winter, which has also inspired me to write my second book for Moon Books, the issue of boundaries returns again and again in relation to human interaction, in every day life with people that I share this journey with.

Our own personal nemeton, that space around us that we do not allow anyone but those with whom we are most intimate with, expands and contracts with each person that we meet.  Some we might shy away from, some we might fling our souls wide open to.  What I have learned is that boundaries must be kept, in order to keep the nemeton intact.

This is difficult for me, as I enjoy ecstatic relationship –I crave it in my Druidry, in my life.  Yet I have learned with whom it is appropriate, and with whom it is not.  To utterly dissolve into the moment of the sunset, or opening my soul to the bluebell wood as I lie beneath the gently swaying branches of oak and sycamore, or deep within the heart of ritual where transformation, celebration, integration take place – these are the times when it is not only appropriate, but relatively safe to do so.  I know that the bluebell wood will not harm me, will not abuse the relationship.  Sadly, this is often not the case with many humans that we meet.

Perhaps that is why it is so much easier for me, as a Druid, to find relationship with the beech tree at the bottom of the garden, or the badger that comes looking for birdseed and peanuts, than the average human being.  I have not been hurt by these creatures – even when my soul is laid bare, I have not come to harm.  The seaside has not taken advantage of that moment when we are soul naked, seeking deep ecstatic relationship.  Perhaps this is because the sea does not want, does not need as we humans need.

Human relationship is so very different, for so much of it is heavily dependent on need, on desires.  We seek a give and take in our relationships, if they are to be healthy.  When there is not balance, it is unhealthy, and often advantage of another is occurring.

Saddened by and a little wiser by past experiences, I have to relearn again and again where my edges are, and where they meet with others.  Telling myself over and over again that I will not be hurt by certain people, or that I will allow love in from others – this is what is so very important.  This is what Nemetona teaches me each and every day.

By becoming aware of our own boundaries, we can then act honourably with other humans we meet, and indeed with all of nature. Sometimes it is wholly inappropriate to fling our souls open to the lake at moonrise – that is why in Druidry we ask permission to share our soul touch with others.  Maybe this is what is lacking in much of human interaction – that permission is not sought. It is either given when not asked for, or taken even when it is not sought.

In the midst of all this, all we do is dance with Her as best we can, sometimes ecstatically, sometimes deep within our boundaries, ever awake and aware of our relationship to Her and to the rest of the world.

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

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New book contract accepted! Dancing With Nemetona

Have just accepted my third book contract with Moon Books, another in their Pagan Portals series, entitled Dancing With Nemetona – A Druid’s exploration of sanctuary and sacred space.  This work will focus on sanctuary and sacred spaces, exploring the Goddess of the Sacred Grove, Nemetona.  Check out the Moon Books website here, and see their latest releases… www.moon-books.net

Here’s a little taster…

It had been a long and challenging day at work. I drive home, the windows open and the radio off, fully immersing myself in the act of driving, leaving behind what happened at work and becoming entirely aware of the present moment.  I feel the sandy roads beneath the wheels, the smell of the newly ploughed fields lifting my heart and filling my nostrils with that sweet earthy scent.  The village finally comes into view, the 30 mile an hour speed restriction delineating the edges of this space that I call home, and I slow down, driving under the speed limit through the little street past the village shop and post office, turning into my road.   

The tires crunch the rocks in my driveway, and I park the car, switching off the engine.  I take a deep breath, and look at my home, smiling.  Mindfully, I open the car door and grab my handbag, closing the door shut behind me and walking towards the front door, focusing on each and every step that brings me closer to Her.  I take my keys out and with intent, turn the key in the lock and enter the porch, softly closing the door behind me.  I take off my shoes and hang up my coat and then open the main door to the house. 

My soul opens of its own accord, my own nemeton relaxing and expanding so that it merges with the physical space of the house itself, with Her.  I place my hand on the door lintel and whisper a prayer, “Thank you My Lady for this sacred place, this haven of four walls and for providing me with a home.  I am truly honoured.”  I feel the acceptance and smile, entering the home fully, saying hello to the cats and dropping my keys in the bowl.   

Our homes are often places of comfort and rest, if we feel inspired by Her to make them so and if we are attuned with Her energy.  We must first have some sort of idea of who we are, in order to express ourselves and Her in our homes in order to create a sense of calm, well-being and a nurturing environment.  We cannot simply emulate what we think looks nice in a book or a magazine, but we must feel it in our body, in our blood and in our mind that this is a reflection of what our vision of hearth and home is for us.

It will be different for each person.  Everyone has different views on aesthetics, décor, and arrangement.  Everyone has different budgets and limitations.  Everyone has different energies and inspirations and abilities to make these things manifest.  What we must try to do is to do is to create that sense of welcoming when we walk in the door, to connect with Nemetona in our homes and to honour her for all that she provides.

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The Maiden

I have always loved The Maiden Goddess, in her many forms.  When I first started learning other mythologies from around the world as a child, it was the image of Artemis that struck me the most – a glorious, strong young woman with her bow, surrounded by animals under a waxing crescent moon.  Someone who knows what they want and yet keeps it to themselves, guarding their bodies and sense of self and opening only to those they choose to love – the Maiden’s love was not unconditional.  She ran through the forest with muddy feet and wild hair, in skins and with fetishes dangling in the breeze.  She still does.

As I near 40, the sensible part of me tells me that I should at least be looking into the Mother Goddesses, before I turn to face the Crone. The Maiden in me tells her to bog off.

It’s in the waxing time that I long to dance and sing, that the energy is rising, when my blood stirs with passion.  I love that crescent that hangs in the sky, a silver arc of glory and strength, bending but not breaking, supple and strong.  The full moon does, of course, sing to me as well, as does the waning and new moon – I honour all the tides and times as they flow through this life and through me, connecting me with everything.  Autumn is my favourite season – not a time of the Maiden, you might say – but the Maiden would say otherwise, for this is hunting season for us humans, where she and the Lord of the Wildwood watch over both predator and prey.

I suppose that being childless by choice has much to do with my perspective on the Maiden.  She is free, unburdened, yet still carrying great responsibility.  She is not naïve, she is not immature – for me she is strong-willed and determined.  She is not innocence and unknowing – she IS a goddess after all, remember.  She likes children but sees no need to have her own, for it does not fit in with her plans.

I don’t seek a Mother Goddess, perhaps because I have never felt the need for one.  My own physical mother provides me with that love that only a mother can.  I personally don’t believe in an all-loving Mother Goddess anyway – the Goddess as nature for me could never be so. Nature doesn’t give two hoots about humanity.

Even my Lady Nemetona, the goddess of sanctuary, is not a Mother-type figure.  She provides us with that space where we can be, where our soul truth can sing, however she is not motherly in the way that she provides it.  She allows for that space to be – like a priest, she facilitates the power within and without to allow that time for growth, or reflection, or whatever it is that you seek. It is up to you to use it correctly.  She watches over sacred sites, stone circles and deep lakes, mountaintops and dark caves where people have come for millennia, or for a season, to make ritual and connect with that which the Druids call awen.  She holds a space, indeed she may hold us for a time, but it is so that we can better understand ourselves and the world, rather than out of any love. She is a Maiden goddess to me, true to herself, aware of her boundaries and setting them clearly.

The Crone awaits me in the dark depths of winter, and perhaps one day I will seek her out. However, I have a feeling that the Maiden will still be at my side, forever and always running with me through forest and field under the bright sunshine, shooting our bows deep into the heart of consciousness and forever singing under the light of the waxing moon.

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Dancing with Nemetona

I have danced with Nemetona ever since I can remember.

I may not have known her name, but she has always been there.  My Lady of Sanctuary, of sacred space, of boundaries and edges – all throughout my life I have danced with her, the song flowing through my soul like deep nourishing water, bringing a stillness, a settling to my heart like no other.

I grew up in the same house until I left for college.  A beautiful little bungalow on the edge of a village, with miles of forest stretched out behind. It was a house that was filled with warmth, with sound, with what can only be described as a good vibration.  Filled with houseplants, as my father is a landscaper and my mother the daughter of a florist, every spare flat space had something growing, being nurtured, being loved. Indeed, that is how I often look back at my childhood – it was a beautiful space indeed, and I am ever thankful for it.

The house has its own spirit – not in a paranormal sense, but just a welcoming that brought a little sigh when you walked in.  There was a soft scent too – difficult to describe, but again something that made you want to come into the warmth.  The life of my family had seeped into the walls and foundations of that house, and yes, while we did argue we also loved each other, and still do, deeply.  Home was a safe place – growing up we never locked the door when someone was home, and often it was unlocked if a parent was out and we were playing down the street.

My lady Nemetona was there, in that house, and in that village.  When old enough, we pushed our boundaries further, to the end of the street, then the two other streets further down, then the village borders and deep into the forest, climbing over The Mountain and beyond.  My parents allowed us that freedom to explore, with plenty of good advice, for which I am ever thankful. Yet there was always a feeling of security, and of sanctity.  We were truly blessed by this goddess.

After leaving home, which was heart-wrenching for me, to go to The City for college, I found it hard to adapt.  Yet I still managed, making wherever it was that I was living as “homey” as possible.  People often commented, and still do, when they enter my home was a nice feel it has.  It comes naturally to me, dedicated as I am to this particular goddess. A haven not only for me, but for all who are invited in, she gives her blessings freely.

I learned through Druidry her name, and also to carry Nemetona with me at all times, not just in a certain place, such as the home.  Finding the edges of my own nemeton, that space around myself which none but those who I am intimately connected to are allowed in, I could work with those edges better, to define that sacredness and sense of sanctuary around me.

Nemetona gives us that space where we are allowed to be ourselves, fully without fear.  She is a temple, a sacred space, both within and without.  She was celebrated in forest groves, the classical sources tell us, but she is to be found everywhere.  Sinking deep into her temple, dancing freely in the twilight, letting go of notions of that self that we have created, we have time to simply BE.  We return to the selfless source, if we so desire.  And yet, we must come back and define our edges once more, but this time they are perhaps softened, allowing more in, allowing sanctuary and compassion to those that need it. Though we may discriminate, Nemetona doesn’t.  That is why she is a goddess.

Explore where your edges meet with another, whether it be human, cat or tree.  Let go into the embrace of this Lady, to find out who you truly are.  In her temple, we are all perfectly who we are at this given moment.  Dance with her, and know what it means to be truly free.

P.S. I am currently writing a book, entitled Dancing with Nemetona, about my journey from childhood to where I am today, and how this goddess has danced with me throughout. x

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Sacred spaces, not magic circles…

Many, many teachers and authors emphasise the need for creating a circle when performing ritual, or doing inner pathworking, or meditation, and so on.  My first steps on the pagan path were Wiccan, and creating the circle is a large part of any ritual action.  I cringed, and still do, at any mention of creating a circle with salt – especially out of doors – it’s something that lacks all common sense in a nature-based spirituality; let’s protect ourselves by throwing salt down on the ground and potentially killing all nearby flora and fauna.  But I digress – the question is, how important is the creation of sacred space?

One of my patron goddesses is Nemetona, the goddess of sanctuary.  She is the representation, the embodiment of sanctuary, a place where we are held; a safe place. She is a goddess of transformation, for in a safe space we are able to explore, to try new things, to grow. Much as under our mother’s watchful eye, we can learn and develop as human beings.  However, we must also push the boundaries in order to develop – we must leave the protected and safe spaces to discover our own, to create our own.

When I perform ritual by myself, I don’t see the need to create a circle.  For me, either in my home or outside, the creation of a circle is setting a time and space outside of time and space, and this is not something I want to do. I want to be wholly in this world, grounded and interacting with it.  When performing rituals for others, I always respect their wish to create a circle if they so choose, for that is their path. For me though, it just isn’t necessary.

Inner pathworking is simply done, without the complex or simple creation of a safe place where I cannot be harmed by outside influences, or where my own energy can harm others,  for I don’t believe energy works this way.  Much like a curse, it only has an effect is the cursed believes in said curse.  I don’t believe that external energies are grasping and clawing around the edges of my circle, trying to get inside my mind as I undertake an inner journey, or that there are things crawling around the boundaries of my circle in ritual; demonic forces waiting to get in and cause havoc.  I also don’t believe that I can unwillingly send energy in ritual, thereby needing a circle to contain the energy until I so choose.  It’s something that some pagans agree with, but many do not.

In public ritual, I have also often found that the creation of the circles is merely words and actions – there isn’t any actual manipulation of energy behind it;  the circle isn’t really created, as far as I’m concerned.  Someone may walk around saying the words, then consecrating however they choose, but there is no energy in it – they are simply going through the motions. That, a circle does not make. Just walking around in a circle doesn’t create magical space unless there is sufficient intention behind it.

My home is a sanctuary.  It is a blessed and sacred space.  If I choose to do an inner pathworking there, “unguarded from external forces”, I don’t believe that they have the capability to do any harm. In fact, I don’t believe in them at all.  My home is sacred because of the way I feel about it, the way I honour the spirits of warmth and energy, of rest and play, of love and laughter that occurs within those walls.  I feel the same way about ritual outside in the wilds – the circle is unnecessary, for nature is simply nature.  Were I to work outdoors in the city, perhaps, where the human threat of physical violence must be considered, then perhaps I would create a “magic” circle. Most likely I would simply find a safer place from physical harm.

I’m currently reading a book on Druidry that does quite a bit of inner pathworking as part of the suggested work.  This book is fraught with warnings, about when something happens in your inner pathworking that you don’t like, that you don’t control – people entering, things not going according to plan.  I think that the mere suggestion of the possibility of this is leading people to self-sabotage their pathworkings – if you believe it, then chances are that the suggestion planted in the subconscious can and will emerge when we feel most vulnerable.  Suggesting that we must protect ourselves, that we are vulnerable when we perform these actions – to me this is nonsense.  If these suggestions had never even been made, then most likely “bad things” would never happen in pathworking. I have done many pathworking, and undergone hypnosis – both in classes teaching it and myself being a subject to know what it is like.  You are fully in control, as if you were not “under” hypnosis.  It is merely a state of relaxation where you can access parts of the brain that the “conscious” mind just shouts over.   I know that many would disagree with me – again I will reiterate that this is simply my personal opinion, and that others will have their own equally valid opinions.  The whole subject is subjective – and what works for you may not work for others.

I suppose sacred spaces for me are those places where there is no need, no desire to protect myself from outside influences, at least those that I believe in.  My rituals are open to the world, so that I can connect fully and wholly with the world around me.  The intention behind my rituals, behind the way that I live my life, is what matters most – and that does not include creating spheres around me for protection.  It’s all a bit Hollywood for me – I just don’t believe in it. I do, however, believe in sacred space, in the sanctuaries that we create, or that we come across – a grove in a forest, a clearing on a mountaintop, a space behind a waterfall, a corner of the bedroom – all these places that sing to our heart, these are our sacred places.  I feel no need to fence them in, in the physical or the spiritual sense.  I am a part of them, wholly influenced and touched by them when I am sharing their space and time.  It is a gift, and one that I accept wholeheartedly.