ritual

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The naked form

Beltane is fast approaching – the house martins are back, the bluebells are coming out, the earth underfoot is soft and the air is turning warmer. Many thoughts are turning to the coming summer, the long days, the short nights, the summer clothes, or lack thereof. I’ve heard it said that Beltane arrives when it is warm enough to make love outside without freezing your bits off, alongside the usual ‘when the hawthorn blooms’. But I do wonder, with a smile – is it ever the season in Britain to have your clothes off?

Don’t get me wrong – I love being naked. Without the restriction of clothing, the body moving freely, feeling the air upon your skin, swimming naked; all these are pure bliss. What’s not so lovely about being naked outdoors is sunburn, or bug bites, sitting on thistles or treading around nettles, etc. We humans (sadly, in my opinion) have evolved without all that much fur to protect us from the elements.

On the rare days that it is warm enough here in Britain to get outside naked, you’re more than likely to get sunburn, especially if you’re fair like I am. I’m not a big fan of slathering sunscreen all over my body (I don’t like the feeling of the lotion). I’d rather wear some lightweight clothing to protect my bits from the sun, wearing sunscreen on any exposed bits. That way, it also doesn’t interfere with any insect repellent that I might be wearing – I love lavender, as well as citronella, as they are brilliant at keeping away the mozzies and the midges. However, they can react with your sunscreen, making it less effective, so I try not to combine the two on my skin. So, if you’re not being burned or bitten, it’s probably cold and wet and rainy, which is nice, for a while being outside and naked in, but for a sustained length of time leaving you shivering and probably not terribly healthy in the end.

There are also other considerations to bear in mind when being outdoors and naked – will others see you? It’s still illegal in this country, unless you’re in a designated naturist resort or camp. I’ve spent many summer days at nudist beaches and hot springs, revelling in the lovely feeling of freedom of being naked (bugs are less of an issue on the beach and around the hotsprings, though sunscreen is a constant pain). These are places where people know that they will be seeing other naked people – it’s not a surprise or a shock when they come across the naked human form. We have to consider other people’s issues as well as our own when we are exploring nudity – we can’t just think of ourselves in this regard. How would I feel if my nudity made someone feel uncomfortable? While it’s good to challenge people’s perceptions every now and then, pushing them into uncomfortable situations isn’t all that respectful. Think of the young girl who has been sexually abused by her stepfather, and confronted suddenly with a naked male stranger during ritual or at a pagan camp – that’s not a situation that is taking into consideration her story, her feelings on the matter. Working with compassion means we have to try to understand everyone’s story, even as we are telling our own, and realising that others’ stories matter, even if we haven’t heard them. If we are in a designated area where we know there will be nudity, and where everyone is in the same mindset, then we can be more respectful to the thoughts and feelings of others, whatever their situation.

It’s a great and liberating thing to do, to explore nudity outdoors, getting in touch with your body, spending some time around other naked bodies without a sexual agenda. However, I would say that there is a time and place for this, in order to respect other people’s feelings (and the law). My last trip to Avebury in March saw a couple just on the other side of the bank pleasuring each other in a field – a beautiful affirmation of their feelings, yes, but not entirely appropriate perhaps when walking around with a three-year old. And speaking of sexual agendas, making love in the forest, while perhaps being illegal (indecent exposure) can be a beautiful expression of our souls connecting not only with each other, but the earth itself (though do be prepared for possible bug bites in embarrassing places – or massage each other first with a lavender massage oil!). It all comes down to respect – will you be disturbing anyone? If so, I’m sure that there are other equally fine alternatives.

It all comes down to respect – respect for yourself, for others and for the land. May you find blessed freedom and comfort in your own body!

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Brighid and the Oran Mòr

This is a reblog from my latest blog post at Moon Books. I hope you enjoy it, and do let me know if you’ve had similar experiences. 🙂

I had meditated and tranced for nearly an hour before my altar, to the sounds of the birds outside and Heloise Pilkington on my cd player. http://www.heloisepilkington.com/index.htm  My cats joined me, sleeping in their respective spots, their purrs vibrating along my spine.  As the incense burned out, I came back to myself, having danced with my goddess, diving in her mysteries and those of my own soul.

I was ready now. Time to go out, to seek her, to seek the awen.  I packed a small bag with more incense and some water and made my way out of the house and onto the heath. Taking my time, walking slowly, I feel more graceful after my time spent at my altar, both within myself and within my goddess. Life goes easier on me.  I ghost through the trees at the edge of the wood, where heath meets beech and oak, and thirty feet away from me are the deer. A vast herd of them, probably about a hundred, lying down basking in the warm spring sunshine.  I smile and make a small wave of my hand as I pass by. They have come to know me, and do not run away, though they stand up – just in case.  I feel their vibrant energy lifting my heart, and my soul runs free with theirs. I leave them where they were, carrying on along the edge, where two environments, where two entities, two souls meet and intertwine. Here is where the potential lies. Here is where power lies.

But I move on, for this is not my chosen spot. There is a very special place to me, again that lies on edges, in a small copse of birch trees on the edge of another part of the heath, where a stream marks the boundaries between woodland, heath and farmer’s fields.  As I step carefully amongst the heather across this beautiful open-access land, I smile at the familiar faces of friends – the oak trees, the sandy soil, the great pines.  Then I see it, my special spot, the birch trees about to burst open their buds, everything hanging in anticipation.  Narcissus flower everywhere underneath the white boles, running down through the patch of woodland that hides the stream from prying eyes.  Spots of yellow, like little suns, laugh and smile as they stretch towards our nearest star.

I walk beneath the birch trees, looking at the fox den and rabbit holes. I find my place, a clear space of ground and here I put down my bag.  Looking around me, there are branches everywhere as the recent winds of springtime have brought many down. I gather some up, together with pieces of flint and quartz that lie upon the mossy earth. I make my circle of sticks and stones, and smile at the thought.

Lighting the incense, I walk around the circle several times, then place it carefully upon a bare patch of earth. I take my bottle of water and allow a thin stream of water to bless this sacred space.  Standing at the four directions I honour them for all that they are. Within the centre I recognise and remind myself of the three worlds: land, sea and sky. I use the ritual gestures that I have created over the years to emphasize my words, to bring them into action.  I breathe in the air, filled with the scents of spring, face the stream and call to my goddess.

“Lady of the sacred flame. Lady of the sacred water. Where fire and water meet is the greatest power. I honour you with all that I am, for all that you are. Lady of healing, lady of transformation, lady of poetry, lady of creativity. Show me your mysteries. I open my soul to you, to hear your song.”

A wave of energy comes towards me, nearly knocking me off my feet.  I balance, and turn around, knowing that there is incense behind me. I move carefully around the incense, walking as if through treacle or dark, sticky molasses. I need to lie down. The Earth is pulling me down, down into her mysteries. Carefully I lower myself to the ground, a pair of hawks overhead crying as they circle, riding the thermals.

I close my eyes. The earth thrums beneath me, the sky singing above me.  I hear it. I hear The Song.

Oran Mòr.

I’ve heard it all my life. I just didn’t have words for it. I didn’t know its name.  A few weeks ago, I heard those two words, Oran Mòr. It all made sense. The song of harmony, of life, of existence.  The sigh of the wind through the pines, overlaid with the cries of the hawk, the soft bass of the earth and the timpany of heartbeats of every creature around me.  They create a wondrous sound, a flowing song that speaks of life, of constant creation, or whirling through time and space. It sings of this blue planet and the stars’ dancing round.  The sound of distant cars are tuned to the wind. Everything is singing.

The song fades, and my eyes begin to open, but I am not yet ready to let it go. I refocus, and tune into it once again.  There is my own melody within the song, and the deer and the fox, the blackbird and the pheasant.  There are the rocks and the slow pulsing of lava beneath the earth’s surface. There are the soft notes of the light clouds overhead and the bright arias of all the stars in the sky hidden by daylight. I let this sound soak into my skin, into my being. Slowly it fades, and I smile as I now know a new secret. I have heard a new song, the song of my goddess, the song of all existence, and it is exquisite.

Slowly I get up, thanking the gods and the spirits of place for their beauty.  I take down my circle, the memory of the Oran Mòr still bright within my soul. I know that it is not something I can yet carry with me all the time – it is still too powerful, too enchanting. I would be off my head if I did.  That wonderful, ecstatic moment is my inspiration, my awen, and my channel to tap into Source.  I know where to plug in now.

Slowly walking back home, I see the horses in the paddocks, a beautiful white horse frolicking with his smaller, dark friend.  He looks at me, his gorgeous long face reminding me of Shadowfax, Gandalf’s horse from Lord of the Rings, descended from a race of noble equines called Mearas. Here is a modern day Mearas, his intelligent eyes looking into my soul, his playful heart and light foot moving joyously over the ground. He trots up and down his paddock, showing off his beautiful gait, where he barely touches the ground. I smile in pure joy. He canters, slides to a stop, and trots back with his friend at his side. His antics bring over the other horses from the other side of the fence. I open my soul to him in friendship, but he is too caught up in Springtime.  I smile and leave them to their games beneath the warm sun, and head home, the memory of the Song still humming deep within my veins.

This is what it means to be alive.

Joanna van der Hoeven is a Moon Books author with three titles released in the Pagan Portals series, including the No.1 Amazon bestseller The Awen Alone: Walking the Path of the Solitary Druid. She is indebted to author Alison Leigh Lily for bringing those two words, Oran Mòr to her consciousness.

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Druid Camp 2014

Druid Camp was, once again, a wonderful experience. Though we were only there for Friday evening and Saturday, leaving early Sunday morning, it was an enriching time filled with laughter, good friends, a coming together of a tribe and community, and an honouring of the land. The focus of this year’s camp was environmentalism within a spiritual context.

We arrived Friday just after 7pm, after horrendous traffic on every single motorway – it took us over seven hours to get to Camp from the Suffolk Coast – three hours longer than usual. School holidays had just begun. We checked in and then hastily made our way to the ritual circle, where Phil and Ness were being handfasted. They had met at Druid Camp years ago, and were now taking their vows and pledging their love to each other, with the tribe and community acting as witness. It was beautiful.

Later that evening, Arthur ZZ Birmingham and then Ushti Baba, a gypsy/ska/folk band got the crowd on their feet and we danced the night away.

Saturday began with a lovely yoga session led by Theo, which worked out all the kinks from the night before and set us up perfectly for the day, followed by circle dancing. The morning meeting followed, where the next two days were laid out before us with an array of choices to make, which workshops to attend, and what was taking place where. The afternoon ritual was then planned, which I will come back to in a moment.

The marketplace at midday was the biggest I had ever seen it. Beautiful crafts and homemade wares were on display, as well as books, second hand clothing, incense, ritual gear, meads and wines. Arthur ZZ Birmingham led an improvised band (and I joined in on my new doumbek) and played some great blues tunes in the heat of the midday sun.

Mid-afternoon the healing and divination area was in full swing, as were the talks and workshops. I went to Brochfael’s talk on ethics within Paganism – something which I’ve been exploring quite a bit on this blog lately. Ideas were exchanged and points of view shared in a brilliantly painted teepee, with Will delivering his talk before a tableau of a red dragon dancing in the light of the sun.

Saturday afternoon’s ritual focus had an astrological bent – Mars in the various zodiac signs. Though I’m not a great believer in astrology, it did provide an interesting framework for ritual. The idea was that one woman would represent Boudicca, discovering and learning her warrior aspect as she dedicated herself utterly to the land. She was to move through the houses of the zodiac in which Mars resided for all ritual participants. Every single ritual participant was divided up into groups based upon which sign Mars was in for their own person – for me, Mars was in Virgo. The groups would then challenge and provide Boudicca with what she needed for her journey.

When the time came for the ritual, Mark Graham opened the circle and the woman who was chosen to play Boudicca entered, looking every inch the proud warrior queen, even down to the flaming red hair. Each house of the zodiac presented her with challenges and gifts, wisdom and advice as she progressed through the circle. It was so inspiring to see the creativity of everyone, wherein each group was so different and so unique, yet coming together to create a single ritual of great beauty.

After Boudicca (who was played by a woman aptly named Victoria) had processed and been blessed by the tribe in her protection of the land, everyone came together in the circle, chanting words dependent upon their ritual designation within the elements of earth, air, fire and water. The words flowed through each other in exquisite awen, as everyone circled and chanted, sang and set their hearts free in love of the land. I was quite overcome at this point, with the seagulls flying overhead, the wind upon my skin, the earth humming with energy beneath my feet and the waters of the Severn River encircling us upon this sacred hilltop. My love for this land and for the planet, the Earth itself, overwhelmed me and tears began to slide down my mud-stained cheeks as I called to my gods, opening my heart and soul to them in utter dedication and devotion. On the outer edges of the circle, I felt a great need to connect more fully with the earth, and dropped to my knees to lay my hands upon the sacred soil. Thankfully, those in the middle of the circle soon felt a similar need, and I was not trampled under Druidic feet! Everyone in the ritual knelt down to the ground, bringing their foreheads to touch the earth in peace and love, dedication and devotion to that which holds us so utterly and beautifully in the world. A selfless love flowed through me for the entirety of the world in a rush of pure, divine awen, and I tried not to sob out loud at the release.

After the ritual I made my way back to my tent, to process and integrate what I had just experienced. My husband and I then went out for dinner at the local pub, and coming back I meditated alone (in a field of sheep, so not entirely alone) watching the sun set over the hills within a bank of cloud, the crickets singing around me and the finches twittering overhead. Utterly spent, we had an early night that night.

Sunday we went for breakfast at the café, and had a great breakfast discussion with friends old and new about what they were working on in university, on gender roles and personal life experiences. This is what I love about Druid Camp – such engaging and brilliant discussion over beans on toast.

Then it was time for the long journey home towards the North Sea coast. Coming at last to our home, smelling the familiar scents of heath and forest, of sea and sky, I sat in my backyard by my altar and honoured the land upon which I live, connected as it is to all of the British Isles and the rest of the world. I said a prayer for peace, and reaffirmed my dedication once again to my gods, with the spirits of place and the ancestors as witness.

I can’t wait to see what will happen at next year’s camp.

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The view from out tent of the Severn River and the rolling hills…

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Brochfael’s talk on Pagan ethics in the painted teepee, or is it a hobbit about to be eaten by Smaug???

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Solar panels in the distance… how apt…

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The astrological houses for the big ritual on Saturday afternoon…

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My favourite tepee in the whole world…

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Ritual preparation…

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Celebrating 50 years of OBOD

OBOD logoThis weekend the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids celebrated 50 years of their organisation, founded by Ross Nichols (Nuinn). The weekend ran from Friday 6 to Monday 9 June, with fringe events and a spectacular evening of arts and entertainment on the Saturday, all held within Glastonbury town centre.

 
I had been asked by chosen chief, Philip Carr-Gomm if I would be available for an interview on the Friday afternoon of the event, as well as be a part of the author’s table on the Sunday. It was an honour and a pleasure to be able to do so, and to attend the variety of other things happening all over the weekend.

 
After a 7.5 hour drive from where I live on the coast of the North Sea in Suffolk, we arrived with 10 minutes to spare before my interview with Phillip (which will be available on the OBOD podcast, Druidcast at a later date alongside other authors and figures within Druidry and OBOD). I hobbled into the venue (having pinched a nerve in my hip the day before) and was greeting warmly by Jo, who was working in the Avalon Foundation office, Kris Hughes (one of the most lovely, witty and funny Druids you will ever meet – do check out his books and the Anglesey Druid Order) and then by Philip himself, whom I’d only ever known via email correspondence. Philip has a wonderful way of making you feel at ease, ensuring that things will run smoothly without having to say a word. He is one of those people who is utterly devoted to his passions in life, and be completely un-egotistical about it all, considering his position within the Order and in modern Druidry itself. The cult of celebrity exists even in the modern pagan world, but it has not and I highly doubt will ever influence this genuine and endearing soul.

 
As the interview began, Philip set me at ease straight away – it was like talking to an old friend. The people attending the interview as audience members were absolutely lovely as well – it was nice to be able to connect with them and honour their support.

 
After the interview I headed to the Goddess Temple, to decompress and honour this very sacred time and place. We then had supper and went back to our B&B, which was about 4 miles out of town, as when I tried to book three months earlier the town had already been overrun by Druids seeking lodging!

 
The following morning we attended the official opening of the weekend event. Caitlin Matthews made the first speech, talking about what it means to be a Druid today, and how those who follow the path of Druidry can proudly call themselves Druid. Professor Ronald Hutton then gave an endearing roast and toast speech about the OBOD and Philip himself, which had us all in stitches, particularly when he likened Philip’s personal appearance to a dandelion puff and fighting the urge to blow on this head to release the seeds into the world. Phillip then spoke about the Order, and a powerful dramatic interpretation of the trees of the ogham was enacted. The most beautiful aspect of the entire morning’s event, however, was the cascading chant of Awens that Damh organised. Four hundred voices raised in celebration and joy chanted the sacred sound that sent beautiful rays into the heavens even as it shook the grounds of the Abbey wherein we were situated.

 
Later that day was a very special ceremony on the top of Glastonbury Tor that honoured the Druidry of the past, present and future. A moving sight was seeing those that were in the different schools of learning (Bards, Ovates and Druids) coming forward and standing in three lines before the tower of St Michael, looking like three rays of awen in their tabards of blue, green and white.

 
In the evening the Eisteddfod was absolutely superb, with offerings from a Dutch opera singer, as well as brilliant drumming and poetry. Afterwards the chairs were cleared away and the evening’s bands came on – the dance floor was heaving and the energy was amazing. Fifteen minutes before the scheduled end of the evening, Damh jumped offstage and ran out the tent to lead us to a very special surprise in the Abbey grounds – a spectacular fireworks display that lit up the whole town. As the last of the light and noise faded into the night, the awen chant seemed to flow from the very ground itself, as hundreds of Druids honoured the peace, love, passion and more in their souls in the darkness as it sounded from their voices one last time.

 
The following morning I sat at the author’s table with fellow Druid authors such as Cat Treadwell, Robin Herne, Kris Hughes and more. It was a lovely chance to connect with people and offer signed copies of our work, sharing in the very special energy that Druids seem to have when it comes to learning, reading, and always questing the awen.

 
After that I headed to the Red Spring for some quiet, personal time – sadly the White Spring was not open. I honoured this most sacred place in England and then it was time to leave, back to my home on the other side of the country.

 
All in all, this weekend was filled with lovely, beautiful people who had a deep love of Druidry and the land upon which they lived. It made me proud to call myself Druid, to make me really feel part of a tribe of people who have created a lasting tradition built upon the wisdom of the ancestors of the past and holding a deep and abiding bond for our ancestors of the future that will follow in our footsteps. Long may it continue.

 

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Beltane and bluebells

We headed off across the field, flowers in our hair, to find the bluebell woods at Beltane. Some of us had seen them before; the others were in for a big surprise.

As we neared the gate, the scent of the blossom floated on the breeze, and a haze of purple/blue could be seen. As we passed through, we simply stood and stared at the thick, lush carpet of flowers that covered the entire floor of the little wood. This place was special.

We walked on, talking of faeries and bending down to touch and smell those flowers next to the path. Bees buzzed past, and the greening canopy of leaves overhead whispered in the breeze of the coming summer. We made our way to a little faery knoll, where there was a space of grass and where we could do the first half of our ritual without fear of crushing any of the tiny, precious flowers.

We sat, and prayed to the spirits of the wood. They welcomed us with open arms, a gentle hug of affirmation. We proceeded with our ritual, honouring the gods, the ancestors the four quarters, the three realms. We spoke of our own fires within, of what sparked our passion in life. Our words were witnessed by the circle of present, and all else around us, both seen and unseen.

We then made our offerings and closed down the ritual, heading back to the house. Once there, we lit the twin fires in the backyard, and drummed the energy into being. With drums pounding, we each took our turn walking between the fires, letting their heat and energy fill our souls with the song of flames and smoke, of fuel and light, of love, sex and passion. We let the flames purify our souls, and released what we had held onto all winter that was unnecessary. Once the flames died down, we then jumped the fires, some with skirts held high, with joy in our hearts and smiles on our faces.

The fires burned lower, and we walked once again between the two fires, to be smudged by twin bearers of mugwort, who lit their bundles in the flames and swept them all over our bodies. There was laughter and thoughtfulness, and we then sat down around the fires for the next part of our ritual.

We had prepared words of love; words of love that we wished someone would write or say to us. We wrote love poems to ourselves, with words honouring the fact that love must first come from within. We shared the poems and words with laughter and with tears, and then burned the papers in offering to the spirits. We then stood, delighting in an energy shower/chant that one of our group taught to us on the spot, and then we did a drum healing for all.

All in all, it was the most blessed Beltane ritual that I have ever had the pleasure of attending. This year feels so…. it just feels so much more. Things are happening. Things are moving, changing. The gods are calling, the woods beckon, the fire of light and life ignites in our souls. Welcome summer.

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Excerpt from new book, Dancing with Nemetona: A Druid’s Exploration of Sanctuary and Sacred Space

Here’s a little taster from my upcoming book, Dancing With Nemetona, published with Moon Books, available this spring…

Lady of Ritual

magic circleRitual – the word rolls off the tongue. It evokes images of moonlight and standing stones, or incense and flower filled temple rooms, women and men gathered under the stars or the light of day to celebrate an aspect of life, death and rebirth.

Ritual is as simple or complex as we allow it to be.  We can follow a set liturgy, or we can create our own path.  Within paganism, both are equally acceptable.  As paganism is, technically, a newly rebirthed religion the question of authenticity with regards to validity is moot – someone, somewhere along the line, whether it was 60 years ago, 600 years ago or 60,000 years ago made it up at some point.  That has no bearing on its validity.

When we create ritual, we are taking a moment, taking time out, to celebrate or honour a specific moment in time. It may be as simple as saying a prayer of thanks at sunrise or sunset, or it may be a full blown affair held within a stone circle, with 20 or more participants, having rehearsed their roles and re-enacting a mythic drama.  Whatever ritual you choose to perform, establishing a relationship with Nemetona can be a rich and rewarding experience to lend to these sacred acts.

Nemetona is Lady of the Sacred Grove, where it is believed that ritual occurred in past history.  The ritual itself is just as important as the setting.  It must speak to us, must sing to our soul, otherwise, what is the point?

As the Lady of Holding, of guarding and watching over our sacred space, our created sanctuaries, Nemetona is also a lady of ritual, integral to it if we so desire.  She moves in circles and in cycles, and therefore when we hold a ritual circle, we can invoke her easily within that sacred place.  She is all that is within the sacred circle, and also all that is without.  Like a vase, the vase is not only the boundaries of its own edges, but also the emptiness within that allows it to be a vase.

We can call upon Nemetona in ritual, to protect our sacred circle, to bless it, or simply to witness what it is that we are doing within that space (or all three).  She can be called upon before a ritual to help define its intent and purpose.  She is the Lady of Holding, and within her embrace we are free to be and do as we wish.  Within the sacred ritual circle, she enables change and growth, safety and security where we might otherwise not feel it to be.

Within the ritual circle is a space where we can grow, where we can make associations and develop our spirituality to its true potential.  Within the sacred circle, we overlay it with our associations in ritual such as the elements, our spirit guides, ancestors, gods and goddesses and more.  By finding out where these “fit” in the sacred ritual circle, held within the arms of Nemetona we come to truly understand ourselves, and the greater world at large.

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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.