spring

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Living a Charmed Life

While the winds howl outside as winter lets us know that just because we have celebrated Imbolc, it doesn’t yet mean Spring is here, I have taken the last two weeks to rest in solitude. Staying home, organising and having a big clear-out, cleaning and simplifying has been a challenging fortnight. After the big family gatherings and the busy pace of the Yuletide holidays, Imbolc is often a quiet time for reflection. Being thrust into solitude after weeks spent with happy, noisy family members can be quite a shock to the system, but there are lessons to be learned with everything in life.

I give thanks that I have a home, a beautiful home that shelters me from the winter’s rages. As I lie in bed and hear the wind whipping around the house, the rain lashing against the window panes I remember that there are many who do not have this luxury, both human and non-human. As I walk outside in my garden, seeing the snowdrops and the crocus, the daffodils and the hellebore in flower I am reminded of the quiet, elegant beauty that exists even as the torrential storms pass overhead. The white serpent energy is slowly stirring in the ground beneath my feet, connecting all the areas of these sacred isles in a web of existence upon whose threads we can travel, if we dare. The hearth flame is utterly sacred, whether it is candles burning upon the mantlepiece or a cozy fire crackling in the evening. Being utterly awake to all these things reminds me of the constant stream of blessings and the sacredness of everything. There is nothing mundane in this world.

Chanting prayers to Brighid upon rising, giving thanks as the sun shines upon a new day, singing songs to the land as I dig into the earth of my garden, I know that there is no separation between what is sacred and what is not. I have come to realise that reciting little chants and prayers throughout the day helps to remind me of the sacredness of each and every moment, from preparing and eating food to cleaning the floors and windows, to laying myself down each night in the shelter of my home, my husband and cats with me. Inspired by the charms and chants, blessings and prayers found in works such as the Carmina Gadelica has led me to create my own, which is an incredibly fun thing to do in and of itself. But when applied to everyday life, singing my prayers throughout the day I really feel an ever deeper connection to the gods, the ancestors and the spirits of place. I can’t take them for granted anymore.

It brings a whole new meaning to living a charmed life.

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Reblog: Full review of The Salmon in the Spring

Salmon-in-the-SpringI’ve finally managed to put together a cohesive account of my experience with this book over on my blog at SageWoman – if you’re interested, please click HERE for the full article.

Harvest blessings,

Jo. x

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Jason Kirkey: Celtic spiritual ecologist

Salmon-in-the-SpringI had my mind blown a while back by Jason Kirkey’s book, The Salmon in the Spring. It is the best book I have ever read about Celtic spirituality, animism and ecology. Now, as I am re-reading it, again I am finding my head nodding in response to everything he says, like some little toy dog in the back of someone’s car.  I am eagerly anticipating his new book, which hopefully will be available soon.  Though I’ve never met him, or spoken to him, I feel a soul kinship to his words and thoughts that resonate so deeply with my own spirituality. Concepts of ego and environment, of humanity’s place within the whole, has left me once again reeling with a different perception.  When I have found some handholds I shall write about it, first needing to find a more coherent sense of self in order to form the words 🙂

To find our more about Jason Kirkey, please visit his website HERE.

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Glastonbury, June 2015

glasonbury torI spent last weekend in Glastonbury, a beautiful little town where I always go a couple of times each year to refocus and recharge the old batteries on a spiritual pilgrimage. As a Druid, I get inspired by the land around me and my home environment more than anything, but if you want to see outside the box so to speak, there’s nothing better than a pilgrimage to a spot that has great energy and peace.

And so, my friend and I piled into the car and drove down to Somerset, stopping off at Avebury on the way as she had never seen it before. We had lunch at the Lion (a fantastic pumpkin chili burger each) and then walked amongst the stones. After we had completed our first circuit we went and spent some time by the Obelisk, in one of the two inner circles. This is a special spot for me, as it really is a gateway into the past; time moves differently in that circle. Sitting on the ground, placing your hands upon the grass you could feel time shifting and slipping in and out of the present, looking up and seeing what Avebury would have looked like before the houses were built, before the village came. It’s a powerful thing, going in and out of time, but also so wonderful: a reminder that time is not linear, exactly, but an ever ebbing and flowing tide.

After Avebury we headed to Glastonbury, where we had hoped to meet up with some friends and drum up on top of the Tor at sunset. By the time we had settled in and eaten, it had already gone past 9pm and we were just too tired, and had to pass on that little excursion. We went back to the B&B (Pilgrim’s B&B – I highly recommend it) and with a visit from the resident cat we went to sleep, having a big day ahead of us.

The next day we were up early – too early for anything to be open! Shops don’t open until after 10am (some of them opening when they feel like it) and the Goddess Temple was only open from 12 noon. So we wandered around the town, looking in windows and finally visiting them when they opened. There are some really lovely shops there, with good books, items and other pagan goodies (I highly recommend the incense from The Goddess and Green Man – Mists of Avalon and the Golden Sickle are my favourite!). We then went to the Goddess Temple, where we were able to find a little sanctuary from the high street. Clad in the red colours of Beltane still, it was a warm and welcoming atmosphere. Meditation is so easy in that sacred space. I asked one of the temple priests if he could smudge me and he did with some really powerful incense cleansing my spirit with skilful sweeps. Inside the temple there is also a Red Tent, where I always go for a second meditation session and a card reading using the Temple’s own deck of cards they created out of the Nine Morgens of their tradition. I got Freedom, and pondered that for a while in the beauty of the little temple.

We had some lunch and then headed to the White Spring, but it was closed. Sadly, the opening hours state that it is open in the afternoons on the weekends, but it is rather hit or miss as to whether anyone actually comes and opens them. So we then proceeded to Chalice Well, a beautiful space with lush gardens and a light yet at the same time heavy atmosphere of the sacred. So many people from all over the world have been there, and it is amazing to think how many feet have walked these paths, drunk these sacred waters and prayed by the wellhead. I did my usual ritualistic route up to the wellhead at the top of the garden, where a few other people were sitting. As I settled myself, I could see the usual golden glow of healing emanating from the well and flowing out into the gardens. Some young children ran up, and the glow intensified around them. They looked down into the well and then ran off, moving with the swift determination that youngsters do when they must see and be everywhere at once. I smiled, loving their fresh energy and youthful exuberance. Normally I would have been irritated, as I am not particularly maternal, but their energy and that of the well brought a smile of joy to my face. As I sat and basked in that energy I looked around to the others who had gathered around the well head. I realised the deep need for healing that so many had when coming to the Red Spring, whether physical or emotional or both. My heart opened to everyone who had gathered there, wishing them all the healing that they needed, my soul opening in compassion.

After a time I went to sit on the lower slopes of Chalice Hill, where the Chalice Well Gardens overlook the Tor. Meditating there for a bit I was able to send my roots deep into the ground, breathing into them and through them from the deep, dark depths of the soil. My heart was calm, my soul at peace.

We left the gardens and I met an old friend from The Druid Network, who was there with a friend of his. It was so lovely to see him, and even though I had difficulties in the past with his friend, my heart was open to them both – Chalice Well is such a place of healing, I cannot even begin to describe it. We all chatted and laughed, and then we continued onto the Tor while they made their way into the gardens.

As we puffed our way up the steep slope of Glastonbury Tor, the wind whipped our hair and clothes and stung our cheeks. It was windy, even for the Tor, which is always windy. We got to the top, and as always felt the energy whirling around us, pulling us up, down, sideways, inside and out. My friend went and sat on the northern side while I found a little corner out of the wind facing westwards. As I sat I could feel the energy that made this such a special place, a place between the worlds, between the earth and sky with fresh clean water flowing from it into the red and white springs below. It was then that it struck me – freedom. The card that I had drawn from the goddess temple. Freedom was not just physical or creative freedom, but also an emotional freedom. Letting go of hate, letting go of past grudges, we are then free. My spirit soared with the jackdaws that lifted off the grassy slopes of the Tor to ride down into the valley below. The epiphany had struck, not just as an intellectual exercise but as a real life experience, from start to finish in a single day. My heart opened in true compassion on top of the Tor, to everything on this planet, like it never had before and I felt a deep peace settle in my soul that would carry me through my life ahead. I realised that before I had only glimpses of the healing power of compassion, now the light flooded through my being, in perfect freedom.

We went back down to enjoy a nice meal and then relaxed in the B&B. Tomorrow we would finish our shopping and pop into the White Spring on the off chance that it would be open (it wasn’t when we were there). I was saddened that I could not actually visit inside the White Spring, where I had first met my goddess, Brighid, but I could still feel her all around me, as I always do, wherever I am in the world.

Our journey back was quick and painless, and exhausted I climbed into bed next to my husband, my two cats snuggling up as if I had been away for weeks. Going away makes you appreciate all that you have even more, even as it opens up new doors and allows for new experiences. Thank you, Glastonbury, once again, for a beautiful weekend.

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Art as meditation

When I really want to be in the moment, when I really desire to let that sense of self slip away and enter into the present, in perfect freedom – I draw.  It’s a wonderful, meditative, creative process.  You stop thinking about the past. You stop thinking about the future. All that matters, for those precious hours, are the lines, the colours the shapes and the shading.  I am no longer there – I am in the drawing. I am in the sun and the wood of the pencils, I am in the rain and cloud of the paper.  There is a real connection, where the thinking self falls away and there is time to just “be”.  Mostly I use sitting meditation for this, but when I really need to go deeper, I draw. Yet, who is this person drawing, colouring?

No idea.

It just is. 🙂

"Avalon in Spring" © Joanna van der Hoeven 2015

“Avalon in Spring” © Joanna van der Hoeven 2015

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Greensleeves

Thought it was past time I got the coloured pencils out again, and here is the outcome. I think there is still work to do on it, but that can wait until tomorrow.  Here is “Greensleeves”. 🙂

"Greensleeves" © Joanna van der Hoeven 2015

“Greensleeves” © Joanna van der Hoeven 2015

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The blessing of Imbolc

Fantasy artwork by Mictones

Fantasy artwork by Mictones

Imbolc is fast approaching. Here in my garden in the UK, the crocuses are starting to come out, and a lone daffodil stands courageously amidst the dried, chopped stalks of last year’s growth. Traditionally, it was the time when the ewes began to lactate, providing much needed milk for the farmers whose food stores were becoming low. Nowadays, the sheep are birthing at different times of the year – at one farm here where I live in Suffolk, the farmer timed it so that they would birth during the Christmas holidays, as that was when he had the most time to dedicate to them, to see to their health and welfare during this time. Luckily for all, it has been a mild winter, all things considered – I would hope that if weather conditions were harsh, the farmer would be prepared to bring them all indoors. Some pagans celebrate Imbolc when the first snowdrops are out, but again that could be anywhere from beginning of January to March, weather depending. I’ve even seen snowdrops out on a sunny bank in December. Most Pagans today follow the festivals by the calendar year, and the 2nd of February (or the evening before, as the Celts began their day at sunset) is when this special time is celebrated.

It is also a festival connected to Brighid, whether it be the Celtic goddess or the Irish saint. If you do a little research into Her, you will find many connotations, associations and roles that she plays both in mythology and in the cycles of life and death. For me, Brighde as I know her is a little less known; she is the White Serpent of Albion.

You won’t find much lore relating to this aspect of Her. This is based on small snippets of information and a huge amount of experiential ritual, practice and connection. She first came to me several years ago at Imbolc, as I was performing a solitary ritual in my backyard on the mossy ground beneath the beech tree. I placed my hands upon the soft earth, grounding and feeling the earth’s energies stirring as the growing heat of the sun shone on my head and shoulders. An image of a large, coiled white serpent or a dragon beneath the dark earth sprang into my mind. The serpent was slowly stirring, rising up through the ground, slowly uncoiling towards the warmth and light from its dark and comfortable winter slumber. A flash, and suddenly I was connected to sacred sites across this whole island – Avebury and Glastonbury, stone circles in the Scottish Highlands, dolmen in Ireland and Wales, the tumuli several fields over. As quickly as it flashed through my mind it was gone, but I felt the energy, the connection thrumming through my veins for days afterwards. Even simply thinking about that experience brings the connection back, though every now and then I go to my little sacred spot in the garden and perform this ritual again, to re-establish or reaffirm that connection when the need arises.

This is Brighde as I know Her. The serpent energy that connects and flows through these lands. Her gift is awen, inspiration, the fire in the head and the fire in the belly. There is fire within her serpentine body, fire in the sky that she rises towards in her journey throughout the year. After the summer solstice she begins her descent again into the earth, into the darkness. Nwyfre, the life force, flows through her; she is the life force itself. Where she touches flows awen, inspiration and connection to that force. It is beautiful and powerful, a kind of power that sparks the soul and body into action, into seeing beyond the self and into a whole other world that might otherwise go unnoticed. Through that connection, everything is sacred.

I’ve worked with Brighde’s serpent energy for a couple of years now, and it sings to me in times of joy and in times of despair. When I need that connection I can simply remember that moment, if I am not able to go outside and touch the earth. Touching the earth is such a great experience – every Pagan should try it. It takes the gods, the ancestors, the elements out of an abstract and into being. It is life and death, the cycle, the spiral, the great dance.

And so I look forward to this special time of year, and re-establishing that connection, feeling my energies rising even as the serpent below me uncoils towards the surface. I can feel it in my spine, chakras opening as the serpent rises through my body. I can feel it humming in the spirals of my DNA. I can feel it resonating throughout the spiral galaxy and beyond.

I wish you all a blessed Imbolc and Brighde’s blessing to you all.

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Never stop learning…

Never stop learning.  That should not only be a Druid mantra, but one for the entire human species!

I’ve taken this year off to really dive deep into new studies, experiences and finding a very deep Druidry within my soul.  So far it’s been exceptional – I have learned so many things about myself, about how my brain and body works, how I interact with others and how I take inspiration from the natural world around me.

I’ve always been an avid student of life.  I’ve always loved being a student – whether it was elementary or high school, college or university.  I’ve always had a hunger to learn more about the way life works, about philosophy, history, biology and ecology.  That enthusiasm has never faded, and I should hope with all my heart it never does.

Too often we can become complacent in our lives, thinking that we know all that we need to know for however long a time until the awen hits us in the face and we wake up, wanting to quest deeper, to learn more, to snack on those little hazelnuts of wisdom like the salmon in the sacred well.  For a while I was content that I had learned enough about Druidry, about Paganism – I now see how foolishly wrong I was.  There is always something more to learn, something new to experience. When we stop learning, we stop growing, both mentally and spiritually.  We have such capacity within our brains to ever expand our horizons, but the safe and comfortable instinct can easily override that desire to broaden the boundaries.

At this point in my life, when I will be turning 40 this August, I realise just how little I know about anything.  I also know that I will never know everything about anything at all.  What I do know is that I will never stop learning, never stop freeing my mind so that my ass will follow.  It always leads to wondrous new places filled with the wisdom that can only be gained by combining experience with learning.

I am devouring books and exploring the Celtic heritage of the land where I live, in East Anglia, UK.  Often overshadowed in my particular region by the Saxon ship burial and village kingdom near Sutton Hoo, historically there isn’t all that much available about the Celtic Trinovantes that lived in my area (the much more popular Iceni tend to overshadow them). I’m learning more about their stories, from academic research to spending hours listening to the land and the stories gleaned from the wind.

I’ve also spent the winter really looking at my self, the reasons why I have done things in the past, my motives and intentions for the future. It has been a real eye-opening experience, visiting all those dark and light places in the soul, seeing what works in harmony and what doesn’t. Exploring the nature of Truth, looking at how I can live the truest expression of my soul, fitting in not only with my true nature but the entirety of the natural world around me.  Re-reading Graeme K Talboys’ Way of the Druid lead to weeks and weeks of reflection on what the nature of Truth is to the Druid – I heartily recommend that book to anyone interested in the Druid path.  I’m sure there is a future blog post on it when I have managed to put down all that I have gleaned into words…

Taking time out for your self, for your studies and for your spiritual path can be the best thing you have ever done.  It shakes off the comfortable shackles of complacency and breathes pure awen deep into your soul.  It awakens you to life, and that is a gift in itself.

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Spring Cleaning for the Soul

Spring – it certainly has sprung here in the UK!  The tulips and daffodils are out, the sun is shining (at least where I live on the east coast) and the earth is warm to the touch.  The birds have changed their song to ones of sunlight and warmth, of nesting and mating, of the months ahead and the lengthening days.  The foxes are creating an almighty ruckus at night, and the lizards are coming out to bask in the sun.

It’s time for spring-cleaning in my home – really cleaning the house from top to bottom, doing the floors and dusting the blinds, washing the windows and cleaning every nook, cranny and crevice. It’s amazing how great the house feels after a good cleaning. Every autumn and every spring I do a Big Clean, getting ready for the months ahead.  I feel I am overdue for my spring cleaning.

The chores of housework can seem daunting to some, boring or tedious to others.  To me they are a delight.  Really, I hear you say? Really?

Yeup.

I used to hate housework as a child – we had our daily chores of trying (and in my case failing) to keep our rooms and closets in order. We also had our chores every Saturday when my Mom got the house clean – I cleaned the bathroom, my sister dusted the living room and my parent’s room, my brother tidied the boot rack (to this day, I believe he got off too easily…) while my Mom did laundry and cleaned the kitchen. Dad was usually outside doing gardening in the summer or gone to work in the winter. Every Saturday morning, I dreaded the drudgery of chores when I’d rather be watching cartoons, reading or playing outside.

As such, my room and closet were always a mess, and I may not have done as good a job as I could have in the bathroom.  It’s funny how much a person can change though. I hate living in a messy place these days. I find that it depresses me, makes me sluggish and feeling just plain lazy.  When the house is clean, the dishes are done and the floors swept there is a different energy in the house. It smells clean. It feels clean. The energy seems to move easier, flowing with ease where it might otherwise become stuck on a stack on dirty plates, or picking up bits of cat fur from the “dustbunnies” on the floor (oh Spring, for anyone with a pet – you know what I mean in the shedding season!).

Doing the work is just as rewarding as having the clean house at the end. It can be enjoyable.  I can stop thinking about all my other jobs that are waiting – the essay due, the proofs of the next book, getting my dance class organised, arranging diary dates, thinking about upcoming workshops, retreats and speaking engagements.  I can simply focus on the task and let my mind rest while my body works. It’s marvellous.

Really taking time and care can also help you to get back in touch with your home.  Really picking up each item you dust, looking at it, feeling the surface that it sits on.  Feeling the dishes and warm water on your hands in the sink- washing dishes is lovely in the winter, when my hands are so often cold. It’s so nice to sink them into warm water and let them do their work.

I love housework. I love laundry. I love dishes. I love cleaning the toilet. I love dusting. I never, ever thought I would say that.

Now, I must turn that way of thinking towards all the chores – I mean delights, waiting in my garden!

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Reblog: Welcoming the Light at the Spring Equinox

This is a reblog from my Druid Heart, at SageWoman’s channel on http://www.witchesandpagans.com:

The sun rises ever earlier, the days becoming longer. Soon the balance will tip, when the night gives way to the lengthening days. The spring equinox falls on March 20th this year, and after a very wet winter I am very much looking forward to it.

Watching the sun rise and set every day, honouring it with a short prayer and ritual gesture, I can attune myself to the cycles of the sun, of growing life and nourishing decay.  I honour the cycles of the moon, with ritual and spontaneous prayer upon seeing Her face.  Feeling these rhythms deep in my blood and bones, I also feel the shift as the equinox approaches. Similar to the autumn equinox,  I feel like we are on the edge of a knife, ready to be tipped over into a new cycle.

Unlike the autumn equinox, where all seems hushed, teetering on the precipice with dignity and solemnity, the spring equinox is filled with the songs of birds urging us to simply open our wings and fly into the great unknown.  Yet we must take that reaching towards the light as seriously as we take the descent into darkness, otherwise we could get burned. We must protect what we sow in the spring for it to reach fruition in the autumn…

To continue reading, please click HERE to see the full post. x