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11/27/2020

Sacred Wells Ritual

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Left to Right - River Boyne- River Shannon - St Ann's Well

The Sacred Well  

'By gazing into the well and entering a place where everything co-exists, where land and water (Boan and Dagdha) mingle, where the sun and the moon are one; we hear the still primal voice of our ancestry echoing in the chambers of the womb which is in the deep of the earth.'

Lucinda Boswell


In this meditation we seek to awaken the essence of the sacred wells and connect to the waters of the world. Before the meditation we lit a candle , honoured the sacred land and made offerings to the ancestors of the land known in Irish lore as the Sidhe. 

We then arrived at the sacred well:


'Where the water whispers mid  
the shadowy rowan trees  
I have heard the Hidden People like  
the hum of swarming bees:  
And when the moon has risen and the brown  
burn glisters grey  
I have seen the Green Host marching  
in laughing disarray.  

Among the nuts in the hazel tree, I sing to the salmon in the faerie pool, 
What is the dream the salmon dreams in the well of Connla beneath the hazel? 
Green fire of joy, Green fire of life, be with you through stress and strive,
be with you through shadow and shine, rejoice in the Green fire of life.'


Fiona MacLeod

'Graceful be the apple tree I behold her adornments of fruit raiment of gold,
as she shines forth, luminous in moonlight,
I catch a glimpse of rebirth of magic, a place in my heart that can never be banished,
A cauldron stirred, a flagon of mead,
I celebrate her warm embrace.'

Jonathon Huet


The three sacred trees of rowan, hazel and apple surround the the well and we then call to the four directions, four deities (please see the Meditation of Elder article) and the four hallows, the sword, spear, cauldron and stone. 

This is followed by calling to the spirit of the well in its centre, the female power that resides in its depths to connect to the waters of the world. Her name may be Boan or Sinend the source of the rivers and senses of the world.

 We chant: Boann awake x2 Connect the waters of the world and recite the following words which have been adapted from the works of Fiona MacLeod and Eleanor Merry:-


'There is no law set upon beauty, it has no geography, it is the domain of the spirit. All are welcome for what they bring, nor do we demand that they be dark or fair, Latin or Teuton or Celt or say of them that their tidings are lovelier or less lovely because they were born in the shadow of Gaelic hills or nurtured by Celtic shores. 

Each should learn the Mother song of their land at the cradle place of their birth. But it is not well that because of the whistling in the wind of the heather that nowhere else does the wind suddenly stir the reeds and grasses in its incalculable hour. 


​Every nation of the world has its soul and every nation can find it, if it will, and the soul of every people who lineaments may be found not in the mythical Gods themselves but in what they represent, destined each to find it’s alter of its brother and sister soul in the temple of the grail- which is the world. '

We imagine the power of the well as a feminine force connecting all the waters of the world through the rivers, lakes and streams bringing healing to the world soul and love to all lands and nations.


We discussed the importance of connecting with your own local well or waterway which brings healing to your own sense of place while the well of Connla and the well of Segais can be the archetypal or otherworldly sources to your own special place, this in turn honours the spirit of the well more profoundly, as we are not travelling to one sacred spot but honouring all water courses, therefore lessening our impact on the dear earth.

In our next Woodland Bard evening 
we will explore the deep meanings of Yule through Celtic mythology tracing the creation of the world through the river Goddess and her union with the land itself which instigates a divine child. 
​
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11/14/2020

Mysteries of Elder Meditation

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Picture
The pool of Connla lies in the heart of the Celtic soul surrounded by nine hazel trees laden with bushels of nuts. A rowan tree stretches up before it, with a canopy full of white flowers and bright red berries bound together by the darkness of the moon-lit sky. Oak roots stretch around the well securing and binding its foundations with the power of the Green world and apples shimmer in the distance beckoning us to brighter realms and far-off Isles that reach beyond to shoreless seas and vast expanses. 
 
Mysteries of Elder 
 
In our last Woodland Bard session we entered the Green wood with a poem that was said to be uttered by Sweeney Gelt who ran off into the depths of the woods after a terrible battle, a common theme throughout history where trauma directs us to seek healing in Nature. You may not be able to go out at the moment but you can close your eyes, smell the scents, touch the barks and experience the wooded landscape within you as your own memories enliven. 
 

 
Thou oak, bushy, leafy, 
thou art high beyond trees; 
O hazlet, little branching one, 
O fragrance of hazel-nuts. 
 
O alder, thou art not hostile, 
delightful is thy hue, 
thou art not rending and prickling 
in the gap wherein thou art. 
 
O little blackthorn, little thorny one; 
O little black sloe-tree; 
O watercress, little green-topped one, 
from the brink of the spring. 
 
O apple-tree, little apple-tree, 
much art thou shaken; 
O quicken, little berried one, 
delightful is thy bloom. 
 
O briar, little arched one, 
thou grantest no fair terms, 
thou ceasest not to tear me, 
till thou hast thy fill of blood. 
 
O yew-tree, little yew-tree, 
in churchyards thou art conspicuous; 
O ivy, little ivy, 
thou art familiar in the dusky wood. 
 
O holly, little sheltering one, 
thou door against the wind; 
O ash-tree, thou baleful one, 
hand-weapon of a warrior. 
 
O birch, smooth and blessed, 
thou melodious, proud one, 
delightful each entwining branch 
in the top of thy crown. 
 
The aspen a-trembling; 
by turns I hear 
its leaves a-racing-- 
meseems 'tis the foray! 
My aversion in woods-- 
I conceal it not from anyone-- 
is the leafy stirk of an oak 
swaying evermore. 
 

In the heart of the Celtic tradition when we remove a more classical interpretation there is no hierarchy, gender or concepts of positive and negative, we are not looking to praise a God or a Goddess but to share our lives with the spirit of all creation.  
 

The Celtic stories start with the land, this is viewed as a constant that has and always will exist. It is the relationship that we and all the ancient races of time have with the land which is of paramount importance.  
 
The land is often depicted in a female form but may sometimes also be depicted in a male form coming up from the depths as an underworld strength that pulses through the mountains, rocks and trees and as the two concepts of male and female blend together as one as they reside in us all.   
 
This time we shall call to the directions through four main Celtic male deities experienced in the elements and directions. 
 
As we listen to the wind caressing the trees and waters, the voice of Oengus Og  can be heard in the East speaking 
of birth and of song and in the South the sun rises from the heat of Lugh Lamhfada speaking of passion and of war and in the West we experience the vision of Manannán mac Lir in the waves of the sea, speaking of sorrow and of dream and in the North the form of the Dagdha speaking of life and of death in the eternal landscape.  
 
Connecting with these deities and seeing them in the elements we can then enter a state of meditation on the Elder. 
 
Mysteries of Elder Meditation. 
 
Before you is a pool of water known as the well of Connla (described above). The river Boyne flows in and out of the well and nine hazel trees and a rowan tree grow beside it. In its centre are the salmon of wisdom and memory. As you gaze into the waters and watch the rippling surface, a doorway opens into your soul landscape. 
 
You enter the door and follow a path with the intention of meeting the Elder Mother. As you approach the tree you show respect and honour her. 
 
The elder tree can look untidy, it may be crawling with insects and buzzing with flies, can you still approach the tree in kindness?  Her blossoms and fruit are beautiful and her corky bark and soft pith show her vulnerability.  
When one approaches the elder we do so by putting all judgements aside and connecting with all aspects of nature. We accept whatever form she appears to us as, whether it be dark or terrible or kind and forgiving.   
Meditate with elder accepting all the forms and temperaments of Mother Nature.  

 
Sitting under her boughs you may wish to reflect on: 
 
Have I any unfinished business I need to attend to?  

Do I need to contact a friend or family member to make amends? 
 

Can I reflect on those actions where I have been unfair or even cruel to others? 
 

​Am I honestly doing all I can to reduce my impact on the natural world? 
 

 
Once you have finished reflecting make an offering to her that you truly cherish, it may be a quality rather than a thing or a commitment to help the Earth. Pause for a while and then accept her advice or gift to you which may be in the form of a feeling, thought, picture or words. 
 
Come out of meditation and contemplate your experience. 
 
In the next session we will continue exploring the mysteries of elder through the healing of the world soul enabling us to connect with the waters of life through the goddess Boan and sending healing to all the world. 
 
Hope to see you next time. 
 
Many blessings. 
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10/11/2020

Gifts of apple meditation

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Gifts of Apple Meditation

This month in the Woodland Bard live online we are exploring the lore of the apple tree.
In the last session we started with the words of Mary Cicely Barker which help capture the essence of the tree:


Crab-apples, Crab-apples, out in the wood,
Little and bitter, yet little and good!

The apples in orchards, so rosy and fine,
Are children of wild little apples like mine.

The branches are laden, and droop to the ground;

The fairy-fruit falls in a circle around;
Now all you good children, come gather them up:
They’ll make you sweet jelly to spread when you sup.


One little apple I’ll catch for myself;
I’ll stew it, and strain it, to store on a shelf
In four or five acorn-cups, locked with a key
In a cupboard of mine at the root of the tree.


In previous sessions we have been exploring the rowan tree and the hazel tree around the pool of Connla ( please see articles Wisdom of Hazel and The Weaving Goddess on this blog), in the last session we ventured forth to explore the apple tree. Each tree in the tradition has a specific role, the rowan tree takes us into meditation, the hazel tree bestows wisdom and the apple tree especially at this time ( as we approach the season of Samhain), lifts the veil of illusion to open our inner sight.

We spoke of the importance of connecting to a world soul, a spiritual aspect of ourselves connected to all of life.  Each person is part of a collective soul and now more than ever we can see how we all play a part in that, as we witness the Global challenges that affect us all. This will be explored further in later sessions.

Gifts of Apple Meditation

Look into a pool of water, it may be a spring, well, lake or pond. All around it are hazel trees laden with bushels of nuts and standing over it like a sentinel, an aged rowan tree. Watch the patterns forming on the rippling water and then see a doorway which will lead you into the inner realms.

Enter the door and descend down into an inner landscape, follow the images, thoughts or feelings that come to you. If you find yourself on a path follow it to a mature apple tree.

Sit with the tree, absorb the feel of the tree for awhile.  This is an opportunity to connect with the relationship between yourself and a tree that is of direct mutual benefit. You may feel the support of the tree and how it offers fruit to benefit others. The fruit when it falls adds many nutrients to the soil as well as feeding many mini-beasts. 

If you are aware of a guide such as an animal or ancestor tune into them and ask them if you can pluck an apple. If they agree proceed by then asking the tree. It's important you are confident with such an act as the taking of the apple in the otherlands is a commitment to expanding your knowledge and the understanding of yourself. If all agree and you feel ready, pluck the apple and allow it to be absorbed into your heart. In your heart is the song of the apple, the song of the earth, feel that connection: 

- Meditate -

If you would like to experience deep states of meditation with the sound of the drum and traditional lore and poetry join us for our next online session on  Sunday 25th October @ 6pm.

​Wishing you all many Autumn Blessings.
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9/27/2020

The Weaving Goddess MEDITATION

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The Weaving Goddess Meditation

In the Celtic tradition creation has no beginning or end it is constantly weaving its web for eternity. 

 The Weaving Goddess appears in sorrowful and terrible forms as we see her in nature, however this shadow side is always in balance and as the invocation below states she weaves life upward through the green grass as well as death downward through the mold. 
 
When we meditate with the land and especially with its energies, we may find a deep pain and sorrow which William Butler Yeats says is the mood of all ancient peoples for we are incomplete and out of harmony in our human lives. In the Celtic tradition we seek that completion through connecting with all of life and its web. The sense of non-duality and acceptance of life creates a sublime feeling in the depths of our soul. However, it also carries a responsibility for this type of meditation isn’t about creating a personal nirvana but more about a profound awakening to being in harmony with all of life. To understand these deep concepts, we meditate on the Weaving Goddess. 
 
The invocation below calls to the Weaving Goddess and accepts her role in the tradition: 
 
Chorus: I dreamed of Ochil the dim goddess, who through all, through all,  
Orchil weaves the weft, Orchil weaves the weft of eternal beauty. 
 
I dreamed of Orchil the dim Goddess who is under the brown earth in a vast cavern where she weaves at two looms, with one hand she weaves life upward through the green grass and with the other she weaves death downward through the mold. 

She has her feet far down among the roots and trees, and stars thickening in her hair as they gather in the vastness and blackness of the sky on a night of frost. Her form fills all the world where wisdom dwells. But she is sorrowful and terrible for the hearts of men know her no more in her ancient loveliness. 

She is the washer at the ford, a tall gaunt woman, chanting the death dirge as she washes the shroud of he that sees her. She may grow great and terrible and inhabit darkness. 

She loveth loneliness, solitude is her breath. She is Queen of all things on the earth and in the sea and in the white palaces of the stars built on the dark walls of time above the abyss. 

Once you have read the invocation imagine yourself at Connla's Well as described in the previous meditation on the hazel- CLICK HERE FOR DETAILS

Meditate on the rippling shapes of the water and the moon rising and shining upon its moving surface, which will take you deep within or just know it is happening. Then move away from the Well or pool of water and enter a stone circle. Before you is a stone bed and upon it a sleeping women of power.

Meditate on the feel of the circle and the women as she rises and fills the space with her presence, connect with her and the energies  of the earth with the help of the following chant:


Chorus: Twilight envelop me, Twilight embolden me, Twilight awaken the Sidhe. 
 
Forth from his breast the old man drew 
A lute that once on a rowan-tree grew: 
And, speaking no words, began to play 
Over the hills and far away. 
 

An' the moon came up, and the stars grew white, 
An' the hills grew black in the bloom o' the night, 
An' I watched till the death-star sank in the moon 
And the moonmaid fled with her flittermice shoon, 
 

Then the Shadow that lay on the moorside there 
Rose up and shook its wildmoss hair, 
Over the hills and far away -- 
That is the tune I heard one day. 
O that I too might hear the cruel 
Honey-sweet folk of the Hills of Ruel. 

 
Fiona MacLeod 

When you feel ready, ask to hear her voice which may come in vision, thought or feeling and ask her how you can connect with the song of the Earth.


-Meditate - 

This written meditation cannot replace the experience of the live meditation and community support of our Woodland Bard Evenings. If you wish join us on Sunday 11th October at 6pm please click on the link below.   
May you feel the support of nature in your life as you take part in its Wellbeing.


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9/24/2020

Wisdom of Hazel Meditation

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Left to Right- Hazel the tree of Wisdom - Moonlit sky - Rowan tree of Meditation

Woodland Bard Meditation. 
 

Our meditation starts with honouring the land. The land is the mother, the provider of everything we need and it is she who is honoured first in Celtic lore. The land is often personified as a Goddess and was seen in the landscape as the undulating hills or the life-giving waters. The three names below represent the three Queens of Ireland, the sovereignty of its land. However, these ancient Gaelic names can connect us to which ever land we live upon at this time, for they call to the deities of all Celtic lands which once stretched all across Europe and beyond. The main verses are adapted from the beautiful words of Eleanor Merry, an English poet with a deep connection with the Celtic twilight. 
 

Chorus:     
Eriu, Banba, Fodhla, I seek the land of Erin,  
Fruitful be her seas, perpetually green her forest,  
I feel her in my bones, I feel her in my blood.  
 
Danu, soul of the ancient mysteries,  
Wanders forever under the canopy of heaven,  
Wrapped in her mantle of bluest aether,  
And the vision of her calls every human heart.  
 
Her shadow is the forgotten mysteries  
And lives in the sadness of Celtic Twilight tales,  
When hearts wake again to the longing for forbidden lands,   
Or for the shining hosts of the Sidhe,  
Or for the caves of the hoary sleepers.  
 
The Celtic folk soul is the soul of a spiritual awakening,  
The touch of a Woman of Beauty who will  
Come into the hearts of men and women  
Like a flame upon dry grass,  
Like a flame of wind in a great wood.  
 
 After this blessing we make an offering of hazelnuts to the Sidhe, the ancestors of this land saying the words: 

​How beautiful they are, the lordly ones who dwell in the hills, in the hollow hills. 
They have faces like flowers and their breath is a wind that blows amid grasses filled with white clover. 
Their limbs are more white than shafts of moonshine, They are more fleet than the March wind, they laugh and are glad and are terrible when their lances shake and glitter every green reed quivers.  
How beautiful they are, how beautiful, the lordly ones in the hollow hills. 
 
Fiona Macleod 

 
Wisdom of Hazel Meditation 
 
Now it is time to enter the Celtic Twilight in meditation with all of Nature. The following prose is designed to take you into meditation. 

Where the water whispers mid  
the shadowy rowan trees  
I have heard the Hidden People like  
the hum of swarming bees:  
And when the moon has risen and the brown  
burn glisters grey  
I have seen the Green Host marching  
in laughing disarray.  
 
Connla’s well lies at the foot of a mountain ash, those who gaze within may if they can find a guide be lead to the fountain of perpetual youth. The ash berries fall into the waters and turn then to fire. Connla the druid is the guardian of the well. 
Among the nuts in the hazel tree, I sing to the salmon in the faerie pool, 
What is the dream the salmon dreams in the well of Connla beneath the hazel? 

Fiona MacLeod 
 
Visualise a pool of water and notice the patterns of light upon its rippling surface, allowing the vision to take you within or if you cannot visualise just know it is happening. 

Enter the stone circle, experience the moon rising and slowly a soul awakening that is connected to all of the web of life. 
Before you is a doorway or just know it is there. Enter the doorway and descend into your soul landscape. 
As you descend get a sense of the hazel tree (pictured above) and what it has to tell you. Take whatever images, thoughts and feelings that come to you. Slowly in stillness approach the hazel tree whether you can see it or have a feeling of its presence, sit with it in stillness and peace. 

-Meditate - 

In your own time be aware once more of the hazel and the exchange you have had with it. Notice an offering it may be a nut, leaf, stone or twig. Treasure it and allow it to be absorbed into your heart and as it melts into your being ask-  

What can I do to help the web of life? - PAUSE 

Accept whatever answer comes to you whether it be a thought, feeling or vision and slowly in stillness make your way back to the doorway and arrive back in your outer surroundings with a feeling of incredible support and purpose. 

​This written meditation cannot replace the experience of the live meditation and community support of our Woodland Bard Evenings. If you wish join us on Wednesday 30th September at 8.15pm please click on the link below.   
May you feel the support of nature in your life as you take part in its Wellbeing. 
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8/28/2020

Heart of Wessex- Duncliffe Woods

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Where tree met ditch, where ditch met field, where field met an old boundary, the oldest living being in Dorset appeared before me.  
​

heart of Wessex- Duncliffe Woods


Entering an ancient woodland is always an exhilarating experience as a quality of extraordinary age presents itself to the senses. An ancient memory triggered and a place of interest around each bend in the path. I cannot help but wonder at why we create so much human entertainment or build such extravagant monuments when here in Nature all need is met. 
 
'The grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere, the dew is never all dried at once, a shower is forever falling; vapour ever rising, Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on seas and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.' 
 

John Muir.        

My journey to Wessex this year took me to the ancient woodlands of  Duncliffe which is near to the picturesque town of Shaftesbury. The landscape of this area is of gently rolling hills and for me epitomises the character of the English countryside.  
 
As I enter Duncliffe woods I noticed a ground layer dominated by yellow pimpernell and stately fronds of ferns, a welcome change from the invasive bramble and nettle of a typical fertile soil in a secondary woodland. The high trees are of oak, ash and grey willows with sections of coppiced hazel. Down in the valley a roe deer watched me and in damp places hornets, wasps and flies buzzed effortlessly.  
 
As I climbed the top ridge something in the landscape changed. Charms of song birds darted before me and I froze as a cacophony of sweet melodies announced a special place. A riot of plant species, a body of water and a high vantage point combined into a biodiverse frenzy of pure joy. St John’s wort, bird’s foot trefoil, kidney vetch, strawberries and gorse created a mecca for wildlife as tits, robins, blackbirds and nuthatches kept busy at this exquisite feeding station. 
 
I continued into the denser wood with expectation at what I would see next and then where tree met ditch, where ditch met field, where field met an old boundary the oldest living being in Dorset appeared before me.  
Much to my delight the boundary of the wood was marked by a grove of small-leaved limes, a sight only ever seen in old woods and not one I see often. Bluish green heart-shaped leaves upon branches attached to towering trunks of slightly ridged bark. A mere memory of the limes that once dominated lowland England yet still enough to make my heart flutter and fill me with excitement. I could almost smell the scents and hear the sounds of woodsman coppicing and working amongst these age-less trees. 

After sitting awhile, I continued into the dense copse and as I did so the black shape of a mature raven flew above me uttering a deep croak. 
 This ancient sound of the skies, towering limes, moss glad oaks and stately ash transported me to a timeless landscape:- 
 In the heart of Wessex. ​


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8/13/2020

Woodland Bard-Celtic Twilight

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Twilight is betwixt night and day and in Celtic times was the new day beginning to unfold as the days started at night. In our Woodland Bard sessions we enter the Celtic twilight through invocations, drumming and a deep connection to nature.

We started with an invocation to the land by chanting to the Primal Goddess (please see Lughnasadh article), Eriu, Banba, 
Fodhla and then went on to invoke the Dagdha and the Sidhe using the words below:

Chorus:
Take me to the Old Ones, Take me to the Hidden Ones,
Take me to the Sidhe, Guardians of the Land.


Good God Dagdha, Father of Many, Parentage of the Sidhe, All-knowing Noble, 
Spirit of the Green Wood shelter us; Power of the soft brown earth comfort us. 
May the strength rising from the roots of the trees transport us to the bright realms acting as pillars of hope. 
May the roots of trees ground us in one reality, 
taking us into the depths of our being, the womb of the earth. 
Inspiring us to be caretakers of all Nature. 

Chorus:
Take me to the Old Ones, Take me to the Hidden Ones,
Take me to the Sidhe, Guardians of the Land. 


Good God Daghdha, May we be as steady as a tree, 
serving all beings and taken only that which we need to sustain our lives. 
 
Good God Daghdha, Envelop us in the knowledge of the Green Wood. 
Teach us to have a compassionate heart and truly love all souls equally as one. 
 
Great God Daghdha teach us to be light of spirit, tender of heart, steadfast in being. 
 
May the wild wood of all souls continue to blossom for all eternity. 

Jonathon Huet 2017

 
We then entered the Celtic Twilight in meditation connecting with the Rowan tree and the beauty of the Dandelion plant. Both in meditation and on the physical we made an offering of hazelnuts and milk to the Sidhe, the guardians of the land and its deep ancestors. 

After the meditation we said a prayer to the land using these words:

Give thou thine heart to the wild magic,
To the Lord and the Lady of Nature,
Beyond any consideration of this world.
Do not covet large or small,
Do not despise weakling or poor,
Semblance of evil allow not near thee,
Never give nor earn thou shame.
The Ancient Harmonies are given thee,
Understand them early and prove,
Be one with the power of the elements,
Put behind thee dishonour and lies.
Be loyal to the Lord of the Wild Wood,
Be true to the Lady of the Stars,
Be true to thine own self besides,
True to the magic of Nature above all else.


words from the Carmina Gadelica, Alexander Carmicheal.

Notes on the Celtic Twilight

In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries a 'Celtic Twilight' emerged; learned people felt inspired to research and revive our Celtic traditions. By this time the traditions of this land had suffered immensely, but thankfully in the Celtic lands of Scotland, Wales and Ireland these traditions had not been completely obliterated and old texts have survived that have insights into our traditional oral past. 
 
Great writers and poets such as William Butler Yeats and Lady Gregory helped bring about a revival of Irish literature and poetry and the Scots Alexander Carmicheal and Professor Magnus Maclean helped renew interest in Gaelic literature and Celtic studies. Lady Charlotte Guest put the ancient stories of Wales ( the Mabinogion) into a modern print format for the first time in 1841 and Kuno Meyers a German Scholar brought much ancient Irish poetry back into the light. The words below also used in the Woodland Bard Evening were written by Fiona Macleod who was also of this time, her writings are a huge source of inspiration: 

How beautiful they are, the lordly ones who dwell in the hills, in the hollow hills.
They have faces like flowers and their breath is a wind that blows amid grasses filled with white clover.
Their limbs are more white than shafts of moonshine, They are more fleet than the March wind, they laugh and are glad and are terrible
When their lances shake and glitter every green reed quivers. How beautiful they are, How beautiful, The lordly ones in the hollow hills.


Fiona Macleod

For me the Celtic twilight is as real as ever and is not a neo-pagan tradition but a living tradition brought alive by practitioners working directly with these traditions that are still alive in all of nature. More modern writers continue this work such as Caitlin and John Matthews who offer that same living tradition through their incredible works.

I hope you can join us for our next evening on the 16th September wherever you live and continue to explore the Celtic Twilight and connect deeply with the land.

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7/31/2020

Celebrating Lughnasadha

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The Rowan tree produces bright red berries at Lughnasdha and the first crops are harvested.

This year at this time many of us are tentatively re-emerging from a lock-down with still a lot of uncertainty before us.
This article explores the  festival of Lughnasadha and the importance of our connection to the land. By connecting deeply with the land where you live you will find an incredible support system. We find that all life supports our existence just as our own life supports the system too. This concept is captured in the words of John Muir:


'No Sierra landscape that I have seen holds anything truly dead or dull, or any trace of what is called in manufactories is called rubbish or waste; everything is perfectly clean and pure and full of divine lessons. When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe. '

John Muir


Lughnasadha is often thought of as a festival dedicated to Lugh Lamfada (a key Celtic deity) but its true function is to celebrate his foster Mother Tailtiu who died after spending a year clearing a great plain to feed the people. It is therefore a celebration of agriculture and at this time the first harvest. A time to honour the sacrifice of the goddess of the land to feed her people. The foster-mother in Celtic society was held in great esteem and importance.  
 Bridgit was known as the foster-mother of Jesus in her form as a Christian Saint. 
 
As we enter the season of Lughnasadha it is an opportunity to explore a key aspect of essential human need- the food we eat. At one time the food we eat would have come from the countryside around us, grown by the community ripened by the sun, picked by the hands that would eat it and grown in well-nurtured organic soil.  
 
Nature dictated what crops were suitable for the conditions of a given area, alleviating the need for this constant questioning of what is good for us. We now pay for scientists to explore the chemical components of food to help us with our quest for good health and the obvious conclusion that a mixture of food in moderation covers most of our needs; that every food has benefits and disadvantages. However ancient lore points to the best food types are those grown in season. 
 
What we eat, how it is grown and our expectation of foods being available all year round was explored in one of the oldest Irish stories! In the Second Battle of Moytura, the terms spoken between Lugh and Bres were very much about the best way to work the land. It clearly states that each season works for the production of food and to expect it out of season is to go against nature.   
 
To set up schemes which look to improve the overall quality of food production seem to me far more effective than creating niche organic markets. Raising the standards of all foods and ensuring all crops are grown considering the welfare of wildlife and the welfare of all domestic animals is surely true progress, and much more needed than ploughing money into food research and intensive farming so that food can be grown all year round! 
 
Lughnasadha Ritual
 
Here is an invocation to the land you may wish to use and although it is especially relevant to Ireland, these ancient Gaelic names can connect us to which ever land we live upon at this time, for they call to the deities of all Celtic lands which once stretched all across Europe and beyond. The main verses are adapted from the beautiful words of Eleanor Merry, an English poet with a deep connection with the Celtic twilight.

Chorus:    
Eriu, Banba, Fodhla, I seek the land of Erin, 
Fruitful be her seas, perpetually green her forest, 
I feel her in my bones, I feel her in my blood. 
 
Danu, soul of the ancient mysteries, 
Wanders forever under the canopy of heaven, 
Wrapped in her mantle of bluest aether, 
And the vision of her calls every human heart. 
Chorus 
 
Her shadow is the forgotten mysteries 
And lives in the sadness of Celtic Twilight tales, 
When hearts wake again to the longing for forbidden lands,  
Or for the shining hosts of the Sidhe, 
 Or for the caves of the hoary sleepers. 
Chorus 
 
The Celtic folk soul is the soul of a spiritual awakening, 
The touch of a Woman of Beauty who will 
Come into the hearts of men and women 
Like a flame upon dry grass, 
Like a flame of wind in a great wood. 
 
Light a candle to honour the Mother earth who gives to us all without any reward; reflect on your actions this year. 
 
Have you helped be a caretaker of the sacred land or have you taken without care?  
 
What can you give back to earth, how can you lessen your impact?  
 
Meditate on the beauty of nature and the role you play in her cycle. Breathe, be still and feel connected to the wonder of Nature. As you receive and give to the land feel the immense support of  all the beings you share the earth with and when you are strong enough always remember to give back what you have received from the land and all its beings.
 
Wishing you all a fruitful Lughnasdha. 

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7/21/2020

Tales of the Shire

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INDIGENOUS ROOTS AND WILDLIFE CORRIDORS. ​​

Left to Right - Hampshire - Yorkshire - Northamptonshire
As I walk through a wheat field on Walderton Common which runs along the boundaries of Hampshire and West Sussex, I stop to gaze at a tractor ploughing the soil mobbed by the birds following it and I reflect on the timelessness of farming practice. Indeed, the tractor was once a horse which dragged the plough along, but the sight and scents continue in a similar manner and the rural countryside of England is where my indigenous rural roots are to be found. I need not travel to jungles or plains in distant places but to rolling downs, ancient woods and babbling brooks to discover the magic of my ancestral roots. 

Is my ancestors plight any different from the indigenous tribes from all around the world? Were they not wrenched from their homes and families to work in terrible conditions in polluted industrial areas to become the slaves of so-called progress? 

​The earliest evidence of land clearance is in areas known as the planned countryside. For instance, the Yorkshire Wolds, an area of chalk downland was cleared as early as 7000BC by Mesolithic man. They created heaths and pasture for wild beasts that they consumed for food. These areas were maintained by the continued burning of the heaths to stop the trees returning. 

Later in the Neolithic period (5000BC) woodland was cleared permanently for agricultural use in areas such as East Anglia, Somerset and the Lake district. These areas had shallow more easily cultivated soils and were originally open-prairie farming field systems changed into small hedged fields by the enclosure acts of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. 
The areas that were farmed early on in history stretch from York through the centre of England to the Dorset coast. They contain straight roads, regular fields and only a few isolated ancient features missed by the enclosure commissioners. 
John Claire, a famous poet from Northamptonshire in the East Midlands was deeply affected by the enclosure acts which he felt destroyed much of his beloved countryside where he lived. He wrote wonderful poetry which expressed a deep love of the English countryside. 

Old stone pits with veined ivy overhung
Wild crooked brooks o’er which was rudely flung
A rail and plank that bends beneath the tread
Old narrow lanes where trees meet overhead
Path stiles on which a steeple we espy
Peeping and stretching in the distant sky
And heaths o’erspread with furze blooms’ sunny shine
Where wonder pauses to exclaim ‘divine’
Old ponds dim-shadowed with a broken tree –
These are the picturesque of taste to me
While paintings winds to make compleat the scene
In rich confusion mingles every green
Waving the sketching pencil in their hands
Shading the living scenes to fairey lands


​John Clare
Left to Right - Musk Mallow - Vervain - ST John's Wort - Red Bartsia

Continuing my journey on Walderton down I arrive at a threshold where the wheat field ends and the woodland starts. Here the magic happens as a sudden riot of colour disturbs the green grass and plumes of butterflies rise from the grass. The wheat is too barren, the wood too dark but the wildlife corridor between the two is a perfect mecca of biodiversity and a beautiful sight to behold. 

Fritillaries, holly blues, bright yellow brimstones, red admirals and peacock butterflies feed amongst wild marjoram and hawkbits. A closer look reveals the yellow stars of St John’s wort and delicate pink colouring of musk mallow blooms cluster together on a singular stalk. 

The tiny pink flowers of vervain are held on stiff stalks and I wonder how such a subtle plant captured the attention of the Celtic and Roman people for them to discover its use to assuage pain, treat nerves and calm stress.  
Speedwell and milkwort caress the grass with sky blue flowers just millimeters across as hemp agrimony and willowherbs stretch above them. Yellow and white bedstraws clamber for space whilst red bartsia and self heal decorate the edges. A single rest harrow flower hides behind the fleabane. 

​As I enter the woods sweet woodruff foliage appears as enchanters nightshade and herb bennet grow around it. Lord and ladies' berries stand as a warning whilst herb Robert and hedge wound wort make use of a gap in the canopy. 
So much to discover, so much to see, my indigenous roots are nestled in the wildlife corridors of a rural England, for this is the place where chance decided I must be: 

‘All the wild world is beautiful, and it matters but little where we go, to highlands or lowlands, woods or plains, on the sea or land or down among the crystals of waves or high in a balloon in the sky; through all the climates, hot or cold, storms and calms, everywhere and always we are in God's eternal beauty and love. So universally true is this, the spot where we chance to be always seems the best.’ 
 

John Muir 

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7/5/2020

Stanmer Nature Reserve

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Left to right - Field Scabious- Lady's bedstraw- Pyramidal orchid 

The joy of plants as I walked off the path into the chalk meadow at Stanmer Nature Reserve. When I arrived I was greeted by a storm of dust as builders dug and drilled at the entrance and beyond. In haste I nearly ran into the woods but instead stopped and walked into what appeared a field of grass. Then the magic happened as between the grass I saw fully developed scabious plants like the gentry of the plant kingdom with large blueish-lilac flowers known as blue bonnets or bachelor's buttons. I literally jumped for joy at the sight of vibrant pyramidal orchids amongst a matt of yellow bedstraw. Marbled white butterflies flitted from flower to flower to complete the delightful scene.


I couldn't help ponder once more on John Muir's words as I walked just a little way from dusty, noisy human endeavour to the bliss of landscape :

All the wild world is beautiful, and it matters but little where we go, to highlands or lowlands, woods or plains, on the sea or land or down among the crystals of waves or high in a balloon in the sky; through all the climates, hot or cold, storms and calms, everywhere and always we are in God's eternal beauty and love. So universally true is this, the spot where we chance to be always seems the best. 


Left to Right - Wild Carrot - Ribbed melilot- Restharrow- Agrimony

Stately wild carrot stood proud with slender agrimony and the bold displays of knapweed. 
The native peas included ribbed melilot, restharrow and some tufted vetch and the compact carpet of fragrant wild thyme weaved beneath them.

My guide switched from marble white to a red admiral butterfly as I entered the woods and although not ancient still exuded that sweet stillness erupting from the throbbing, pulsing activity of sap rising in trees characteristic of summer months. The corky bark of  elm and the smooth bark of hornbeam reminded me I was in  Sussex rather than Hampshire woods. On the wooded edge meadow cranesbill adequately ​competed with the grass sward and wood avens and herb robert grew in the shadier areas.

Out of the woods the flora changed to grey willows and vipers bugloss with a drift of ox-eye daisy followed by musk mallow, fleabane and bristly ox-tongue in more fertile grass-lands.  As I run out of words to describe this nature reserve on the edge of a city I will leave you with one of my favourite plant poems which I have quoted in part before but here it is in its entirety: 

O the prickly sow thistle that grew in the hollow of the Near Field
I used it as a high jump coming home in the evening -
A hurdle race over the puce blossoms of the sow thistles.
Am I late? Am I tired?
Is my heart sealed from the ravening passion that will eat it out
Till there is not one pure moment left?

O the greater fleabane that grew at the back of the potato pit:
I often trampled through it looking for rabbit burrows!
The burnet saxifrage was there in profusion
And the autumn gentian -
I knew them all by name before I knew their names.
We were in love before we were introduced.

Let me not moralise or have remorse, for these names
Purify a corner of my mind;
I jump over them and rub them with my hands,
And a free moment appears brand new and spacious 
Where I may live beyond the reach of desire.


Patrick Kavanagh


May Nature continue to inspire you wherever you happen to be!

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