religion

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Pagan Monasticism Part 1

How I long for a monastic life.  As pagans, we really don’t have that option, however.  Yet I still dream, of a life completely given to the gods; days spent in prayer, in total connection, separated from the outside world in order to go deeper.  I know, many would say that this is possible in every day life, that we are always connected – that the ability to go deeper, to drink awen from the cauldron is always at our fingertips, if we only know how to access it.  But it is in the quiet, in the stillness and relative solitude of like-minded people, who wish to give themselves completely to their religion that I seek.  That is rare, if it happens at all, in today’s society from the pagan perspective.

I dream of joining other priestesses and priests, in daily ritual, devotions, songs and prayers to our chosen deities. Of living as one with the earth – growing all our own food, of being as self-sufficient as possible but still serving the community.  Again, people will say that I can do this now, and yes, I do it as much as I can, but it is part of my life, not my entire life.  I still have to spend parts of my life working other jobs to keep my cash income flowing in the pay bills, to buy the food that I cannot grow.  I could dedicate some of my jobs to this goddess or that, but it just doesn’t feel the same.  I can’t sit at my desk and pray to my gods while I’m answering various client queries and emails.

It’s that urge to dedicate myself 100% to my religion that I crave.  It would mean giving up many things, some which I long to give up, others, like my husband, I would find very, very difficult.  But would I, if I had the choice? I don’t really know – I’ve yet to be offered that choice, and so cannot say for certain.

Does anyone else feel this way, I wonder?

P.S. I have since found this – though they have yet to build a physical building, the points are in place for something quite special.

http://monasticdruidry.weebly.com/

P.P.S.  There is a lot of interest in this, and ideas are brewing… I will keep you all posted!

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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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Troll Country

Yes, this is troll country. I am currently in Norway, having a cross-country ski holiday – a week of skiing the forests and fells around Sjusjoen.  Today, we got halfway up the fells before the blizzard kicked in – there was such a wildness in the air, nothing like the softness of the habitated places of the UK.  Here in Norway, there is such a difference between the “human” places and the “wild” places. You can distinctly feel when you step from one into the other.

We were skiing out from the village, through the woods until suddenly we came across the open, frozen marshland of the lower fells.  The wind howled – nothing to break it.  You couldn’t see the mountains, for the snow was coming down too heavily.  Leaving the wooded area around the town, and out onto the fells – you could feel that shift. This was the place of the wild things.  This was troll country.

There is actually a place for these giants here in Norway, not too far away – Jotunheim (National Park). In the Northern Tradition (Heathenry) Jotunheim is the realm of the giants – and when you see landscape like this, you can believe it.  This is not a place for human habitation – the wind howls too fiercely, there is no cover.  The mountains loom high, and the marshlands can be treacherous.  This is a place for those who are not so soft – this is a place for ettins, jotuns and giants.

One of my favourite goddesses is Skadhi, an ettin who married into the Northern God clan.  She is wild and she is free – there is no bossing her about.  She is the snowshoe goddess, the hunter, the goddess of skiing.  She walks into the hall of the gods and demands reparation for the death of her father.  She means business.  She lives high in the mountains, listening to the howl of wolves and wind.  I say a prayer to her each time before we embark on our ski journey for the day:

Skadhi, Lady of Winter, know that you are honoured.

May my skis never break,

May my poles never bend,

May my eyes always remain on the beauty that is you.

This wild country tests you – with the wind stinging your face, tiny shards of snow and ice in your eyes, your eyelashes frozen and the howling all around you – you soon learn what you are made of.  I kept looking ahead, peering through the blizzard, almost expecting to see an enormous rock coloured ettin strolling through the snowy fells, enjoying the blizzard and not even noticing the tiny, insect-like creatures on the ground with their snowpants and ski jackets.

Sometimes you win – sometimes you make it through the storm and reach your destination. Sometimes, like today, you accept defeat at the hands of the ettins, and turn back before you lose your way.  We couldn’t see the tracks, we could barely make out the trail markers – it was time to turn back.  So, with a smile and a bow of defeat and in reverence, we turned back.

Once back in the treeline, the snow that had stung so much fell softly, almost like a blessing.  The quiet that only a heavily snow-shrouded landscape can bring was all around us – like the sanctity of a cathedral.  We were back in a human place, and behind us the trolls and ettins laughed in the winter’s rages, throwing snowballs and doing whatever is it that the jotuns do.

Coming back to the hotel, with a sauna and a fireplace, was such a relief.  However, we’re still going out again tomorrow, whatever the weather, to see what we can face.  This is what this beautiful country is all about.  This is troll country.

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The Lure of Glastonbury

Glastonbury TorEver since childhood, I’ve always loved the stories of King Arthur, of Merlin and the Lady of the Lake.  I loved the tales of swords proclaiming kings, of beautiful and powerful women living on mysterious islands bestowing great gifts, of sorcerers and magicians that could both give rise to and destroy kingdoms.  This love has never left me, though it has changed and developed the more I learn about these tales, and the land upon which I live.

One of the things that has always captured my imagination, and always will, is Glastonbury Tor.  It is a wonderful place, a place of great beauty and incredible mystery.  For me, it is one of the holiest places in Britain.

The landscape is unlike anything I’ve ever seen – rising out of the flat, drained Somerset levels is the Tor.  From a certain angle it looks like a woman lying down.  The Tor itself is a marvel, for carved into it are plateaus, in what appear to be a labyrinthine pattern rising to the summit.  On autumn and spring mornings, often the mist obscures the ground, and the Tor rises out of mist – we could easily believe we have been transported back to the Avalon of old.

What is inside the Tor is equally fascinating – the White Spring.  It is widely believed that inside the Tor is a large carvern, where the White Spring emerges, eventually making its way down into the town of Glastonbury.  Old records mention of a time when a small hole appeared in the top of the hill, and when things were dropped down, it took a long time before a splash was heard.  The White Spring was redirected and made inaccessible in the Victorian era, a large pumphouse created to supply the town and cutting off access to what was once a beautiful little spot where the spring emerged, calcifying everything around it, giving it a fey quality. Thankfully, in 2005 the White Spring Trust re-opened the disused pumphouse and has turned the small caverns, rooms and interiors into separate sites where one can once again pay tribute and honour the spirit of the White Spring.

Two monasteries or churches were built on the Tor in the Christian era – the first destroyed, I believe, due to the Tor itself shifting, causing the building to collapse.  Was the previous pagan site revolting against this new religion?  Or was it the sand and limestone ever shifting, finding a comfortable place to rest for the next 500 years?

All that is left on the Tor now is the tower, St Michael’s Tower.  The rest of the building was destroyed in the Reformation.  I both like and hate the tower atop the Tor – it looks beautiful, standing there all alone, a kind of spiritual trig mark; I hate the fact that anything mars the natural beauty of the Tor, and do think that the tower one day will also collapse, as nature reclaims her own.

Smaller hills surround the Tor, Chalice Hill and Wearyall Hill.  Chalice Hill is said to the be source of the Red Spring, which flows down again like the White Spring to Glastonbury Town, and has the most beautiful gardens built around it.  For a small fee, one can enter the gardens and see it in all its glory (unlike the White Spring, which is free).  It was said that the Red Spring ran beneath a grove of Yew Trees, the iron rich water reflecting the blood red sap of the yew.

The Springs are perhaps the most significant thing about Glastonbury – White and Red, the colours of the Otherworld.  From two separate yet very close sources, these two very different springs come down to Glastonbury and are separated by the smallest of distances – I’m certain that at one point they ran together, but now I believe a street is blocking the union of the two springs.  Perhaps one day they will run together again.

The Tor, rising out of the watery levels, connected the Three Worlds of Land, Sea and Sky. The Red and White Spring issued forth from the fairy mound, the Gateway to the Otherworld.  The labyrinth way to the summit of the Tor was the spiral of life.  This is only a taste of the wonders that very special place – what a magical place!

Is it any wonder why I chose it at the setting for my latest book, The Isle of Apples?

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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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First full moon of 2013

Watching the first full moon of 2013 rise over the North Sea, some of these photos were taken, capturing the beauty of the moment…

 

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How Druidry Relates to the Environment

(from an article I wrote for The Druid Network)

Druidry, perhaps more than any other strand of Paganism in the wide weave of spiritual traditions, takes the environment into consideration on so many levels. Druidry – most commonly believed to be from the old Irish words dru and wid meaning “oak knower”, or even the Proto-European deru and weid “oak-seeker” acknowledges this communion with nature in the very roots (pardon the pun) of the word. Heathenry – one from the heaths, or Wicca (most commonly believed to be from the Saxon wicce, to bend or shape, as a willow branch can be bent or shaped into something quite beautiful) have similar nature-orientated origins, however, the communication between the natural environment and the Druid is even closer simply in the name…

How do Druids view their environment? Many, if not most Druids are animistic, believing in the essential spirit of everything, whether it be rock or tree, raindrop, beetle, horse or the sea. There is a sense of consciousness in everything. When I use the word consciousness, I don’t mean in the scientific sense of the last two centuries, where it was used to differentiate between humans and other animals and also “non-sentient” beings. Consciousness, to me, is a part of the greater whole web of life, where threads are woven together, separate but still connected. It is what makes something what it is – whether it is the rose, a cloud or the moon. It is its own inherent identity, or, more poetically, its own song that makes it what it is.

With that sense of consciousness in all things, it is much harder for the Druid to disregard any aspect of the environment. No longer are wildflowers plucked for their beauty, to die within days on our dining room table. No longer is it an option to squash the spider in the living room who seeking warmth from the coming winter. Our entire perception is changed once we view the environment both as having its own consciousness and as we do so conscientiously. We gain both a greater and broader view of the web of existence, at the same time as finding our own place within it. How wonderful is that?

That world view brings with it a responsibility. No longer are we allowed to remain ignorant in the ways of our own environment. If we are to view it as a whole, then we must truly see every part that we also play within it. If the whole of nature has a spirit, then issues arise such as the taking of a life for food. Many within Druidry are vegetarian, if not vegan, and yet there are still many others who eat the flesh of an animal. Some do so, claiming that ethically raised and slaughtered animals for food are perfectly acceptable to put on our plates. In my own vision of Druidry, the damage caused to the environment by the raising of animals for food does not allow that luxury of thinking. It takes much more energy and resources to raise animals for food than it does to plant in the same amount of land a sustainable, organic crop for food. In giving up animal meat and animal products for both food and other commodities, we are caring more for our environment and also, at the same time, sacrificing our ignorance of the weighty issues behind such matters to become fully aware. We must accept responsibility for our part.

The word environment has many meanings, however. Our immediate response to the word is the natural environment – nature. There are many other environments, however – little worlds created by human consciousness. We have our work environment, our home environment, our villages, communities and cities. There is the issue of human to human interaction as well as interaction with nature (though as humans are a part of nature, I realise that I am contradicting myself in some ways, but please bear with me). Our own sense of self, or self-awareness, creates a thorny path through which we must navigate carefully, in order not to injure ourselves or others. Unless one lives as a hermit, the Druid will have interaction with other human beings, some Druids, some not. As with the Druid relationship with nature, sensing the inherent consciousness within it, Druidry teaches us that same sense of consciousness in human interactions. I admit – it is a lot easier for some people to respect an old oak tree than most human beings, however to be fully aware of our relationship with others we must act with a certain sense of honour, that same sense of honour, in fact, that we give to nature. We may not like some human beings, much in the same way we may not like broccoli, but we still acknowledge and respect their place in the wider web.

So how do we relate to our environment? Within Druidry, there is a beautiful Welsh word, awen. Various meanings range from flowing water to divine inspiration. I prefer the inspirational route, however, this is not an “out of the blue” inspirational experience, but one that is crafted through time and dedication to one’s environment to develop a rapport with both nature and inspiration itself, until they both work hand in hand. To the Druid, inspiration lies all around us in the environment, whichever environment that may be. The word – inspiration – to inspire, breathe in. Breathing in must, of course, be followed by breathing out – exhalation. Breathing is the most primitive and simplest way we relate to our environment, and the most effective way of remembering that we are a part of it. The air that we breathe is also the air our ancestors breathed 50, 100, 1000 years ago. It is also the air that the willow, alders and yew trees exhaled 50, 100 or 1000 years ago. The wasp breathes in the same air, the grasses and wildflowers exhaling into the deepening twilight. We can relate to our environment by simply remembering how to breathe, what we breathe and how it is all connected. From that, we literally gain inspiration, as well as being inspired by it. The inspired Druid then exhales that inspiration, whether it be a song to the darkening skies before a thunderstorm, giving thanks before partaking in a meal, writing a symphony, throwing paint at a wall or dancing in the light of the moon. This establishes a communication between the Druid and the environment – speaking to each other, even if it is without words.

We relate to our environment though inspiration, and we are all related, as the Native American proverb says. It isn’t simply communication with our environment, but a soul-deep sense of relativity – we are all related. By being related, this instills within us a sense of responsibility, of caring for the environment, whichever one it may be. If we see that we are related to the badgers living in the brown-land area soon to be re-developed, then we also see that we must take action to ensure that they are safe. If we see that we are related to the food that we eat, we will ensure that we eat organically and, if possible, grow our own food as much as we can to develop that relationship even further. If we see that we are related to our neighbour next door, we are more likely to establish an honourable connection to them and the rest of the community. It creates a sense of caring for the environment and all within it, and it is no easy task.

The challenge that faces the Druid is to see clearly these relationships, and to act honourably in all regards. If this challenge is accepted, then the worldview is broadened considerably, as is the environment. The web of life will shimmer with inspiration along every thread. May it do so for you, all my relations.

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Introducing Elen, Wild Goddess

ElenShe is the Lady of the Wildwood.

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.

She is called Elen. Not much is known about her – she 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 an antlered goddess, her antlers showing her free nature spirit. Her hair is long and red, often with twigs and leaves entangled – sometimes plaited back in a long braid down her slim back. Her limbs are white – they glow in the shadows and shine in the moonlight. Her green eyes, full of mischief, hold the secret of the Ways.

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.

Not much is known about Elen, a patron goddess of mine. I seem to be attracted to deities who have little written knowledge about them – Nemetona, goddess of sanctuary, is the other to whom I have given my heart and soul. Nemetona is a holding deity – she creates a space where we can simply be – Elen is a wild deity, running naked over the heather in wild abandon.

I’ve always known Elen, though I did not have a name for her. I’ve always known and felt her spirit with me, deep in the woods, wherever I am in the world, eyes watching me. She is strongest here, but I am sure that she is strong elsewhere in Europe – so many countries to visit and learn about. But here, in the east of England, where her children, the deer, run free is where I have found her. This is where I have come home, literally and figuratively.

More and more people are finding out about Elen – a friend of mine does an Immerse in Elen Retreat once a year, which is gaining ever increasing popularity, as well as a Reunion for previous attendees.
The group on Facebook for Elen of the Ways has 360 people and counting – more and more she is becoming known. But she is a deity that must be experienced – not talked or read about.

And so I would encourage you – if you feel your soul spreading out, your nemeton relaxing when deep in the heart of the wood, or out among the wild places where the deer roam, that is where you can seek and, if you are lucky, find Elen. Look for the flash in the shadows at sunset, the glimpse of an antler. When you have found Elen, you will know it, and be forever changed.

Photo from http://raniamaria.eu/blog/tag/antler/

To find out more about my writing, please visit my author page at Amazon, where you will details on my books such as The Book of Hedge Druidry as well as The Path of the Hedge Witch. 

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Ritual Importance

Is ritual important? Many Druids perform ritual on a fairly regular basis – at least the seasonal rituals that celebrate the turning of the wheel of the year. Many also honour the phases of the moon, in whatever aspect, whether it be quarter, half, full or new. There are also some for whom daily ritual gives special meaning to their lives and their loves – the rising or setting of the sun and moon, for instance, or saying a prayer of thanksgiving or a blessing before partaking of food and drink. But is it all that important?

I suppose that it is all based on the personal relationship to the natural world around us. For some, daily ritual helps to connect with the rhythms of life that might not otherwise be apparent – say, especially if you are living in the city, and it’s hard to hear the blackbirds at dusk above the din of rush-hour traffic, or aren’t able to see the sun or moon rise due to buildings blocking the way. For others a daily ritual isn’t that important, for they already feel much more connected simply in their living circumstances – for instance, a friend of mine, fellow author and blogger Nimue Brown, lives on a boat and is very much connected to and at the mercy of mother nature. It’s akin to a friendship, in a sense – sometimes your friend lives far away, and you have to make a special effort to keep in contact with her. Sometimes your friend lives right next door, and it’s much easier to keep in touch.

In Zen, regular daily practice of sitting meditation carries through into other aspects of our lives, where we bring awareness into everything, and in doing so taking away the illusionary drama and seeing reality for the wondrous gift that it is. It requires discipline, however – to sit through the boredom, to sit when we don’t feel like it, to be aware when we’d rather be daydreaming. Yet this discipline is, as I have found out, necessary for clarity.

I haven’t meditated for a week now, and I am feeling the difference. That daily ritual, of sitting down and spending half an hour each and every day in awareness really did permeate into the rest of my life. I didn’t become lost in attachments to emotions – I still had feelings, but they didn’t linger and cause as much suffering as before. When taking the time out to stop and meditate and be aware for a designated point each day was given up, those attachments came creeping back in. I was spending more and more time in my own head than in the real world.
Druid ritual can do the same for us, in keeping us connected to our spirituality, whatever our circumstances. Too easily we can become lost in our own worlds, realities that we have created out of our emotions and thoughts. Ritual can say “hey, look – enough. Stop. Look at what’s really going on around you. Hear the stag calling. Hear the aeroplane. Watch the sun rise. The world is more than just you”.

With Druid ritual, we gain inspiration from the natural world around us. That is what Awen is – an insight into nature, the nature of the world around us and our own human nature in turn. By doing Druid ritual we take the time to pause, to reflect, to take in that inspiration so that we may exhale it with love and compassion back into the world.

So, is ritual important? I think so – even if we use the friend analogy, ritual keeps us from taking it for granted. It brings awareness and that magic back into our mundane lives no matter what our circumstances are. No matter where we are in life, taking a moment to stop and simply be in the moment can help us gain inspiration and insight, and to also give back with thanks for all our blessings that we receive in this equally mundane and magical world.