b is for birch
B is for Birch. Trees have functions in story and those functions may change which is why we can never pin a tree down to a specific quality or limit anything in nature to a specific purpose. Birch is considered to be a tree of beginnings but as our ancestors knew there was no such thing as a beginning or end and saw everything moving in cycles or spirals then at what point in our story does birch bring a beginning. She begins both before and after our tales and therefore in this instant she acts as a bridge with the most important function of uniting the traditions of different eras. Mythology is a remembrance of the land and all its inhabitants reaching up to the heavens and spiralling down to the underworld. Its articulation is not limited by concepts of time or by whether it is fact or fiction or whether it is a history, religion or science.
‘Time never was, Time is not. Thus, I heard the grasses whisper, the green lips of the wind the blind oblivious rune of Time, far in that island-sanctuary that I shall not see again. Time never was. Time is not. O Time that was! O Time that is!’
The Two Eternities by Fiona MacLeod
Every time mythology is shared, it happens in that moment, on an unfolding spiral which is remarkably different in every telling. This is reflected in the trials and tribulations of each new generation which repeat similar patterns but in a different era. This is why ancient mythology is always relevant for today.
Exploring Tradition
In all our courses we encourage the participant to connect with the tradition that unfolds within them, the thing that most resonates with them and informs them of their own inner worlds for tradition is always welcoming and inclusive but at the same time personal and intimate. I believe the tradition chooses you, it is the essence of who you are and is in the blood, bone and spirit of your being. As explored above it is unaffected by human conditioning and can span many different religious or secular beliefs. It may be that you are attracted to several traditions and each of them speaks to you in different ways. As each tradition informs us of the world that we belong to, it must also follow that there is a common thread that unites them all, I feel it is imperative that we find this common thread. I have chosen to explore this course through the Irish tradition as when we can dig one deep hole we may reach the treasure rather than lots of shallow ones. This does not mean that this is the only or the best way to do it, it just means this is the chosen way for this course and more importantly it is the tradition that speaks to me in my heart.
The Irish tradition clearly demonstrates how people may change in how they see things, but the essence of the tradition stays the same as it spans the Neolithic era through to the Iron age on to Christian medieval times then into the later Celtic revival period and now into a new generation that are interpreting its wisdom.
So we shall begin with Birch at the point where the tradition was written down for this is the point from which it has been remembered through to modern times.
The first ever Ogham inscription was said to be Birch and the oldest of books were written on birch paper so let us enter the world of the scriptorium and the Pagan Monk as we explore the unchanging quality of tradition in a constantly changing world.
The Pagan monk - the unification of traditions.
'...our Irish wanderer remembered the poetry of his native land, perhaps his own poetry, and set down casually beside his Latin common places and Greek declensions those verses which were to make him immortal'
Robin Flower - The Irish Tradition.
The monk stands with a cloak upon his shoulders, tonsured and holding his pilgrim’s staff. In one hand he holds a bell to announce his eulogy and in the other his psalter, the sacred form of his knowledge. They say he remembers the old ways; it is evident his attire hasn’t changed much. He still roams the land with praise and satire upon his tongue and communes with the spirits of the dead. He sees the seven lofty great sons of Ethliu taking to the air as angels of the earth.
Ah, the earth he walks upon her as Danu, Banba and Brighid. He bathes in her waters as Boann and climbs her mountains as the Cailleach. He doesn’t remember the old ways; he perceives them with all his senses. He doesn’t remember the stories he watches them unfold in the ageless landscape. Every rock, lough, river and mountain speaks to him. The air caresses him and whispers of Nuadu and Elcmar. The earth supports him as he seeks the windswept terrain and the caves of solitude. The fire sustains him as the Morrígu challenges him to reach for the highest peace. And the sea beckons to him as Manannán, the ferry man seeks to take him to otherworldly islands.
The monk still speaks of the sacred three, the liberation of the young son, the love of the all-father and the power of the virgin mother. He still utters prayers and blessings and offerings are still given. To be known amongst the great kingdoms of antiquity he puts his knowledge to vellum but in truth it is not but memory, it is the living experience of all he is.
The monk painstakingly considers every word as he writes in his cold chamber of the scriptorium in the wild landscape of his homeland. For tradition is 'in the doing’ not ‘in the knowing'.
Such a monk we can connect with by reading the translations of our early Christian monks who immortalised the ancient Irish stories in the scriptorium :
‘Of the men of Ulster am I. Tuan, son of CairelI, son of Muredach Red-neck, am I. I have taken this hermitage in which thou art, upon the hereditary land of my Father. Tuan, son of Starn, son of Sera, son of Partholon’s brother, that was my name of yore at first.
Then Finnen asked him about the events of Ireland, to wit what had happened in it from the time of Partholon, son of Sera.
And Finnen said they would not eat with him until he told them the stories of Ireland.
Tuan mac Cairill translated by Kuno meyers
‘Time never was, Time is not. Thus, I heard the grasses whisper, the green lips of the wind the blind oblivious rune of Time, far in that island-sanctuary that I shall not see again. Time never was. Time is not. O Time that was! O Time that is!’
The Two Eternities by Fiona MacLeod
Every time mythology is shared, it happens in that moment, on an unfolding spiral which is remarkably different in every telling. This is reflected in the trials and tribulations of each new generation which repeat similar patterns but in a different era. This is why ancient mythology is always relevant for today.
Exploring Tradition
In all our courses we encourage the participant to connect with the tradition that unfolds within them, the thing that most resonates with them and informs them of their own inner worlds for tradition is always welcoming and inclusive but at the same time personal and intimate. I believe the tradition chooses you, it is the essence of who you are and is in the blood, bone and spirit of your being. As explored above it is unaffected by human conditioning and can span many different religious or secular beliefs. It may be that you are attracted to several traditions and each of them speaks to you in different ways. As each tradition informs us of the world that we belong to, it must also follow that there is a common thread that unites them all, I feel it is imperative that we find this common thread. I have chosen to explore this course through the Irish tradition as when we can dig one deep hole we may reach the treasure rather than lots of shallow ones. This does not mean that this is the only or the best way to do it, it just means this is the chosen way for this course and more importantly it is the tradition that speaks to me in my heart.
The Irish tradition clearly demonstrates how people may change in how they see things, but the essence of the tradition stays the same as it spans the Neolithic era through to the Iron age on to Christian medieval times then into the later Celtic revival period and now into a new generation that are interpreting its wisdom.
So we shall begin with Birch at the point where the tradition was written down for this is the point from which it has been remembered through to modern times.
The first ever Ogham inscription was said to be Birch and the oldest of books were written on birch paper so let us enter the world of the scriptorium and the Pagan Monk as we explore the unchanging quality of tradition in a constantly changing world.
The Pagan monk - the unification of traditions.
'...our Irish wanderer remembered the poetry of his native land, perhaps his own poetry, and set down casually beside his Latin common places and Greek declensions those verses which were to make him immortal'
Robin Flower - The Irish Tradition.
The monk stands with a cloak upon his shoulders, tonsured and holding his pilgrim’s staff. In one hand he holds a bell to announce his eulogy and in the other his psalter, the sacred form of his knowledge. They say he remembers the old ways; it is evident his attire hasn’t changed much. He still roams the land with praise and satire upon his tongue and communes with the spirits of the dead. He sees the seven lofty great sons of Ethliu taking to the air as angels of the earth.
Ah, the earth he walks upon her as Danu, Banba and Brighid. He bathes in her waters as Boann and climbs her mountains as the Cailleach. He doesn’t remember the old ways; he perceives them with all his senses. He doesn’t remember the stories he watches them unfold in the ageless landscape. Every rock, lough, river and mountain speaks to him. The air caresses him and whispers of Nuadu and Elcmar. The earth supports him as he seeks the windswept terrain and the caves of solitude. The fire sustains him as the Morrígu challenges him to reach for the highest peace. And the sea beckons to him as Manannán, the ferry man seeks to take him to otherworldly islands.
The monk still speaks of the sacred three, the liberation of the young son, the love of the all-father and the power of the virgin mother. He still utters prayers and blessings and offerings are still given. To be known amongst the great kingdoms of antiquity he puts his knowledge to vellum but in truth it is not but memory, it is the living experience of all he is.
The monk painstakingly considers every word as he writes in his cold chamber of the scriptorium in the wild landscape of his homeland. For tradition is 'in the doing’ not ‘in the knowing'.
Such a monk we can connect with by reading the translations of our early Christian monks who immortalised the ancient Irish stories in the scriptorium :
‘Of the men of Ulster am I. Tuan, son of CairelI, son of Muredach Red-neck, am I. I have taken this hermitage in which thou art, upon the hereditary land of my Father. Tuan, son of Starn, son of Sera, son of Partholon’s brother, that was my name of yore at first.
Then Finnen asked him about the events of Ireland, to wit what had happened in it from the time of Partholon, son of Sera.
And Finnen said they would not eat with him until he told them the stories of Ireland.
Tuan mac Cairill translated by Kuno meyers
