However, as it seems there are some nudging going on as the need for Clergy is growing every day within the ADF, I’d better buckle down a little harder. Since I’ve written enough rituals for my own self as well as public rites at CLG, I guess my next step is to start on Liturgy 1. That way if I choose to revert to the New and Improved Yet Still Unapproved CTP, I’ll be able to slide right in and not focus on courses that no longer apply. I do approve of the changes made for the most part, but it’s still a little unclear how transition will occur for students currently in the program. Either way, I have to do Liturgy 1, so I might as well get on it.

In an effort to be more disciplined, I’ve begun another wordpress journal exclusively for spiritual insights. That is, my journeys, meditations, rituals, divinations, and general thoughts about the ADF and other such things will be found there. I’ll be honest, I’m not a fan of having that information publicly accessible, so just know that it’s there.

In order to prepare myself for the CTP mindset, I began by holding my own Initiation ceremony upon this path. I made offerings to Morrighan and to the Fire/Well/Tree and the Kindred. I offered up Jameson and a long braid of my hair to Her asking for her advice on the path ahead. I have to write about that experience in my Secret Squirrel Journal, but suffice it to say that it was significant and powerful, and has set me back upon this path with renewed spirit.

In other words, even though I had spent time thinking about what I wanted to say for my actual Oath, I was now presented with a new problem: putting together an entire high rite with only the materials I had on hand. I scrambled to prepare all of the necessary parts while my friends (Grove mates) literally walked miles in the snow to my apartment to hold our Yule High Rite and keep our promise to the Gods. While they were walking over, I was going through all the ritual materials I had available to me, and also digging out a ritual space on my balcony (which was more like a snow pit).

What did wind up happening was utterly magical. The howling winds and blowing snow (and my thawing friends) really set the stage for honoring the Norse kindred, which was who we had slated to honor at the Grove if the snow hadn’t dumped it’s wrath all over us. It put me in the correct mindset with regards to what it means to be dedicated to a cause.

We spent a great deal of time setting up, as we wanted to make sure we did everything carefully.

Here are some photos of the set up:

I re-dedicated my ring with the blood red stone to my Patroness as proof of my dedication and also to express my love for Her. I also dedicated my Raven Torc to her as a symbol of my strength in her, and my dedication to remain fearless in my spirituality. I also dedicated an ancient shark’s tooth necklace to Manannan MacLir in return for His bearing witness to my Oath, and also to symbolize my thanks and gratitude to him for guarding the spirits of my ancestors.

In reading my Oath, I was shaking from the cold and from all of the energy around me. I made only one mistake in misreading a line, but all things considered it meant the same even with the mess up so I’m not too concerned. I really felt the presence of the Kindred that evening. During our offerings segment, it struck all three of us attendees that we should offer up songs. Somehow, despite the bitter cold and shaking a bit in the wind, I found my voice again and let my ancestors hear it once more after a long period of silence. It had been so long since I had the nerve to sing on my own, and so long since I managed to remember every lyric to a song. I felt them smile, somehow, and I knew that my Oath would be heard. I felt a sense of accomplishment and even a little pride in the strength of our little group.

Because the Rite we did was intended to be a full ADF High Rite, we drew an Omen for the Rite and those of us that gave our Oaths pulled their own personal Omen for their Dedication. I drew a single card just after I ducked in the door to put away the first round of supplies. I drew the 3 of Pentacles from the Mystic Dreamer Tarot deck (which contains photographs of some of my friends who attended this Yule Rite, actually) It assured me that everything I have been trying hard to do is going according to plan. I’m making progress, and getting back into the creative flow that I had lost for a little while. The photography business I am starting up is doing rather well so far, so on all counts this was a reassuring and positive card to draw for my Dedicant Omen.

Not two seconds after I drew the card, my husband had come out from his bedroom to join me in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me from behind as I read the card. It was cavity inducing and adorable. While I was shifting though to move on with the question of whether or not my Oath had been accepted floating around in my head, some of the hot wax fell from the candle I was carrying and sealed my Oath ring to my finger. (see the last picture) This action, and the Omen of the Card I drew suggested to me that my Dedication had been accepted.

Truly, it was a magic night.

(word count: 774)

This book was an interesting, fact heavy read which intended to inform the reader about some common misconceptions regarding the role or existence of a prehistoric matriarchal society. The author was faced with several instances of renowned speakers who, for whatever reason, touted the theory of matriarchal prehistory as fact. I certainly don’t blame her for wanting to set the record straight, but I feel that her book could have done with a little less venom.

Eller makes some rather convincing arguments to back her case, but she begins her book fairly by asserting that because none of us actually lived during the prehistoric period, all we have to go by are our theories of what was. She is highly critical of specifically FEMINIST matriarchalists, which she openly criticizes throughout the book. Despite her emphasis on fact and the work she put into developing the feminist matriarchal belief structure, Eller is sometimes prone to making sweeping generalizations. For example, she often cited examples of Goddess worship and equated that with Feminist Matriarchalists interchangeably. Certainly not all religious paths that find themselves worshipping a Goddess, or feature a Goddess centered spirituality buy into the feminist theories.

Still, Eller does provide us with many of the leading theorists and what they have said to bolster their theories. She often finds herself touching on the work of Marija Gimbutas as the primary mother scholar of Feminist Matriarchal theory. Gimbutas has provided us with theories about, if a matriarchal society existed and a patriarchal revolution occurred, how and who the patriarchal revolution started with based upon her own archaeological/anthropological evidence. In a sense, she provided the evidence most matriarchal theorists were looking for to prove their insubstantial theories that females have long been oppressed by patriarchy, which they insist is against the natural human order. Feminist matriarchalists believe that in the beginning, women were the priestesses and rulers of society, revered as the mysterious and peaceful life bringers because men did not understand their role in reproduction. Then one day the patriarchal and nomadic “Kurgan” invaders came in from somewhere in modern-day Russia and introduced war and oppression to the female gender. It’s quite fanciful, and conveniently paints all men as the bad guys.

Despite all of the sarcasm Eller includes in her writing, I am inclined to agree with her. Feminist Matriarchalists are impractical and often seek to cherry pick evidence to back their theories rather than accepting the whole of the evidence presented. For a theory to be substantially considered, ALL of the evidence must support the theory, not just some of it. To quote the author, “Looking for religion is a near guarantee that one will find it, even if it is not there.” It would seem also that Feminist Matriarchalists have added religion to the mix by suggesting that they have faith in the theories as part of their spiritual belief. As a spiritual belief alone, this may work, but the theory does not stand up to archaeological evidence.

Would I recommend that anyone should read this book? Surely, provided they have a love for history and are capable of abstract thought. It’s a lot of information to take in at one sitting, so I’d recommend allowing a month for yourself to read and reflect.

(word count: 545)

How shall I review the story of this excerpt from the Tain Bo Culaigne?
It is soon told.
This book is a small segment of a larger story: the Irish epic, Tain Bo Culaigne. Accompanied by the rudimentary illustrations by artist Louis deBrocquy, Thomas Kinsella echoes the words and wisdoms of the ancient Irish people in his translation of the classic tale.
Having read many retellings of the entire epic, it was refreshing to read Kinsella’s translation in a more true-to-life fashion. All too often, poor retellings of this tale have obliterated the magic and supernatural elements of the tale in a poor attempt at Christianizing it. All of the magical elements remain: shape changing, the sidhe, the interaction between Goddess and pupil, and even the more brutal details of the battles and duels that occurred.
The Tain follows the story of Queen Medb and her King Ailill as they set out to prove which of the two had more property and was thus the greater in the relationship. After having all of their possessions accounted for, Medb discovered (much to her frustration) that Ailill possessed one more bull than she, the likes of which could be found nowhere else save for Ulster. Unfortunately, the bull Medb required to be entirely equal with Ailill belonged to a farmer by the name of Daire mac Fiachna and so she sent her messenger MacRoth to go there and request to borrow the bull, Donn Culaigne for the duration of a year. He would be compensated enormously. When MacRoth went to mac Fiachna, the farmer eagerly agreed to the trade. However, two men of Ulster began a light hearted conversation with MacRoth just following the farmer’s agreement which ended in the insistence that Medb would have taken the bull by force if he had not agreed. This angered the farmer, and he retracted his agreement. This pitted the men of Ulster and the men of Connacht against one another, and the Tain began.
The Tain also follows the story of Cuchulainn, Irelands best known hero. Having been reared as sister-son to King Conchobor MacNessa of Ulster, Cuchulainn’s exploits as a child were well known to his childhood friend Fergus who happily relayed the beardless boy’s daring feats to Medb and Ailill of Connacht. The two monarchs greatly underestimated the young Red Branch warrior, trained by Scathatch herself, and found themselves outwitted and outmanned by him at every turn. Perhaps some of the book’s more enjoyable conversations in the book occur between Cuchulainn and his Charioteer, Laeg, as they travelled around the countryside committing outrageous feats. The conversations are honest and believable, and truly seem as a photograph of Ireland in another age. In this story, a man’s word and his integrity (and a woman’s word, besides) are more important than losing oneself to battle rage. Even Cuchulainn, while in his Warp Spasm, does not attack friends. The Tain is not about mindless killing, but about honor and integrity in the face of deception.
I was very amused by this translation of the story. Reading about what made Cuchulainn great instead of simply being told “he is great” is really what endears me to the character. This is true for all of the characters within the story. It is laced with humor, such as Fergus having to bear a wooden sword around for a while and Cuchulainn having to smear berry juice on his face just so the older warriors would fight him, and a complete cock walk of noble warriors and their entourages. I laughed out loud several times throughout the course of the book, and other times went a little cross-eyed reading about everyone that showed up at the big battle of the Tain. It reminded me of reading the Silmarillion.
It truly is an excellent translation, if not THE best available. For me, the illustrations really added to the spirit of the story, as the figures were suggested rather than obvious. They had an abstract stylization that forced the viewer to imagine what the figure was doing and fill in the blanks. Combined as one, with the text and the illustrations, it truly felt as though I had been spoken to in the words of an old Irish bard.

(word count: 708)

This is my oath and promise:

—————————————————-

I hold in my heart the truth of my spirit
A well of memory, thought, and passion
Within it lies all that I am
And all that I may become
I open it now, and welcome in those who guard me
Guide me
Protect me
And Teach me.

———————————————–

To the Nature Spirits I have known,
The sea, the sky, the mountain
Forests, animals, birds
My pets, my kin, I have learned much through you.
May I tread as softly in your home, and keep the balance.

——————————————————

To my Ancestors—blood and friend.
I will do you proud.
I will not bear the face of defeat as long as you are with me.
With love and reverence, I welcome you into my heart

—————————————————

To Morrigan I offer that which is yours
My fighting spirit, my passion and my soul
I offer you this ring on which I make my oath
To walk in your footsteps with reverence.
I wear it in binding agreement and with joy.
May it’s blood red stone be as a window
Between my heart and your spirit.
May this torc represent my strength,
For to the brave belong all things.
And on the day you call me home,
I will walk at last along side you without fear
And with perfect love, Siuil linn a Morrigan.
I am honored to call you patron.

————————————————–

To Manannan, I have heard your call
As the whisper of waves upon the salt air
Blowing through me wherever I am
The cruel and wondrous depths of the Sea
Hold as much mystery as you yourself.
As keeper of those I love that have passed,
Your gentleness and wisdom have guided my forbears.
If I have inherited your spirit, let it be so.
Please accept my gratitude.
I am honored to call you friend.

————————————————————-

To those spirits that move with me, breathe with me, and watch over me
Though you are yet unnamed, the veil between us may one day be lifted,
To all that bear witness, I promise to keep the Old Ways.
I will follow the only path I know until the end of my days.
I will never forget.

—————————————————————-

Should I break this my Oath to all that I hold sacred, may I be thrice damned.
Be iest lin.
—————————————————————-

And then the land I had grown up on, it’s fields, beaches, and forests, became ravaged by builders. They mowed down my trees, the friends I associate with my very name, and chipped them into mulch. The tore up my fields, the energy and the memories of which I had come to know, and planted cookie cutter houses. They named their new streets after the trees they had cut down. I felt like someone had punched me directly in the soul using a train. The spirits of the land became enraged. Some sent spirits to me to draw my attention to their pain. Some took down the houses these men had so carelessly built by storm and by wind. I beheld the terrible beauty of nature, in her gentleness and her fury. I am a part of nature, and nature is a part of me. We are inextricably entwined.

A couple years ago, I decided it was time for me to take a more active stance away from the charade of Catholicism and finally be open about who I really was. It was hard to stand up and proclaim how different you are. I explored a couple of local Pagan groups, but nothing quite matched my spirituality. A friend of mine reintroduced me to Wicca, or at least a very watered down version of it. It was enough for the time being to concentrate my energy on, until something in me snapped again. Some spirit moved in me and showed me that this was not quite what my path was meant to be, but that I was on the right track. When the group I was practicing with elected (fully within their right) to remove the tree in our ritual space, my body instinctively revisited the same feelings I had when I witnessed my heart’s home being ripped down. It was a very difficult lesson to learn, but it showed me my path directly. I was a Druid, plain and simple. Not simply because I’m a “tree person”, but because of how deeply the movements of nature resonate with me.

My Irish heritage colored my fledgling Pagan spiritual practice, but now the path I was forging had become a road. I needed to find others of my kind to resonate with, because I felt (and still do) that together we could create something truly special. A force to be reckoned with. Fortunately for me, I found CedarLight Grove. Through my spiritual practice of repeated meditation, honoring the spirits with offerings, and staying true to who and what I am, I became empowered and entirely unafraid. I began to wonder at which spirit had been accompanying me all those years through all my trials, because I know the entity was female. I started doing some research into my Irish hearth culture and discovered something amazing: my patroness was The Morrighan. She did not push me to find her, but she made herself known to me when I was ready to accept the aid of a Goddess. It was like meeting an old friend after centuries of being apart. I’ve never felt such joy and confidence as when my spiritual Mother and I united again. (I find it interesting that I feel this is “again”.) Through careful research, and guided by my passion, everything clicked. The phantoms I had seen as a child, the feeling of distant memory, the feeling of being destined for something, my multiple face-offs with death, the difficult lessons I’d endured, prophetic visions and dreams, they were all characteristic of her teachings and personality. She and I have much in common, even in that she had two sisters. (There’s a difference between A morrigan and The Morrighan, I’d like to point out.)
Druidry and regular practice/worship have taught me who I was meant to be. I understand now, more clearly than ever, that I have a darkness in me and also a light. I know what I’m here for, and pray that I will be blessed with the time to fulfill it. The Morrighan gave me faith. ADF Druidry gave me the structure I needed. In other words, I was given a set of crow’s wings with which to fly. Druidry has granted me freedom from the fear of death. I know she will come when the time is right. It has also given me the tools with which to communicate with spirits, such as my ancestors and nature spirits, in ways I could not reach entirely on my own. I now have teachers in the mundane world, people I look up to at the Grove, and powerful teachers from the other side of the Veil. For someone who’s life hangs in the balance on a daily basis due to chronic illness (that will indeed become terminal in a decade or so), there can be no greater comfort.

Through Morrighan I have come to know other Irish Ascended Masters/Shining Ones/Gods and have begun building a relationship with them as well. Manannan MacLir and I have a relationship similar to that of a grandfather to his granddaughter. I was born in Lewes, DE within sight of the Atlantic Ocean, the physical representation of his realm. He is as the sea is; eternal and knowing and filled with memory. As a child of the sea myself, it’s call is always just at the edge of my consciousness. Manannan teaches me the importance of love and family. Both he and Morrighan are magical entities; they are both sorcerers and seers. They are both guardians of the dead. Both have a prominent place in my heart.

I have also come to know a few other Gods of note, such as Lugh, Dagda, and Aine. Each of them have taught me valuable lessons about life. I feel utterly blessed to be in such good company.

I intend to spend my life working with and getting to know my guides, and dedicate my life in servitude to Morrighan. There may come a time in which I consider Manannan a patron as well, but that time has yet to pass. Morrighan is possessive and active, where Manannan is patient to a fault and passive. I have built my spiritual practice upon intuition and scholarship, and a deep love for nature. I look forward to taking action and being the change I wish to see in the world. I was born to do so.

(word count 1392)

Having grown up in rural Delaware, moving to Baltimore, MD was an eye-opening experience. I left behind what I understood as the raping of my land (also termed “development” or “progress” by our local town council) in hopes of finding better things. I was used to the Atlantic Ocean, and mucky waterways but never anything as disgusting as what I beheld when visiting the Inner Harbor. This place is a wreck.

I’ve always been involved in nature awareness and volunteered what time I could just to clean up garbage from creeks or haul recycling to the recycling center when we had no trash pickup. The amount of pollution and naivety in this area is overwhelming. For whatever reason, children are not being properly taught to respect nature in schools. I have an enormous care for all animals, even the ones with bad reputations. I will remove a spider from my house and let it go rather than crushing it. You can imagine my horror when I looked out my window to witness a young boy stoning a baby crow until it went into shock. I quickly scolded the child, gathered up the poor animal, and brought him to the care of a local wild bird rescue center. Fortunately, the baby recovered. I can only assume that there’s something in the water around here that causes people to feel stupid and disrespectful. I do not know what makes them think that harming certain types of life is okay, and others not.  As the saying goes, we are part of the earth and it is part of us. It doesn’t belong to us.  Whether or not Chief Seattle actually said those things is irrelevant because of the truth of that statement. The earth is not a playground to be trashed as an accessory to the ‘great’ human race. We are not exempt from the laws of earth, no matter how hard we try to be so.

Since becoming an active member of Cedarlight Grove, I’ve begun to take notice of little things we can do to help the environment. For example, I take shorter showers and use organic or biodegradable products for cleaning. I don’t leave the shower running while shaving. I have beheld the power of white vinegar and baking soda, and firmly believe there is nothing that dynamic duo can’t clean. In fact, I don’t use chemical cleaners any longer.  (which is good, because those scrubbing bubbles things creep me out)

I have also become more acutely aware of my diet and the impact it has on the environment. Whenever possible I buy local vegetables in season, buy organic foods, support our local farm, and rarely consume meat. I refuse to purchase food for my cats that contains any kind of artificial dye crystals or artificial ingredients that might hurt them. I re-use cups, if not for drinking then usually for water cups for painting. I find no shame in purchasing second-hand clothing and items, so that they may be reused. I donate to animal shelters and food banks as often as possible, but this laundry list of deeds does not begin to explain my love for the Earth mother.  Recycling, composting, planting, drying clothes on the line, using reusable cloth diapers to…all of these things are what I grew up doing. My mother and grandmother had always taught me the value of planting things that were green and good. Living in the city makes some of them more difficult, but not impossible. In all things, passion will make it so.

Recently, Cedarlight’s eyes were opened further to some of our own hypocrisy.  Because of the way we were performing alcoholic libations and other offerings, we were accidentally poisoning plants in our sacred grove. With the assistance of some Divine Intervention on behalf of the Morrigan, I think that our efforts to change the way we use our ritual space immediately are far more in agreement with our promise to honor the earth we love.

My plans for the future involve attempting to install a recycling program in our apartment complex to make recycling easier. I also intend to volunteer hours to the Chesapeake Bay Foundation to help clean up some of the mess we’ve made. I feel as though both Morrighan and Manannan MacLir are calling me to do so, as I have no doubt that they understand the love I hold in my heart for the deep wilderness, lush forests, and wild seas. My journey workings have led me to be more active and aware, so I will be seeking other opportunities to do so.
(word count: 768)

Mabon 2008:

This was my first official High Day celebrated with CedarLight Grove. I was hoping that there would be something that occurred during the evening that would signify whether or not this was the place for me. The honored Deities of the evening were Athena, Hephaestus, and Dionysus. I remember thinking that I didn’t know all that much about the Greeks. Looking back now, I think it’s amusing how subtly Athena has been alerting me to quiet details about my life. The ritual was longer than what I was used to, having largely been attending Wiccan style rites. For the first time though, I felt connected. The way the fire seemed to play and accent certain highlights of the ritual was amazing. The fire burnt red and brightest (I believe road flares were used) just before the gates were closed. It was unbearably bright and red, and as soon as the gates closed the fire returned to normal. I remember thinking “Well, Ash. There’s your sign”.  (word count: 165)

Samhain 2008:

Samhain was the second ADF Rite I had attended at CLG. We intended to honor the Einherjar; the fallen warriors. We read the names of those US soldiers who died in action in Iraq over the past year. I remember thinking “wow…is it just me, or is it unbelievably cold outside?” When the gates were closed, the warmth returned. I’ve since come to know that if you call the Dead at CLG, the Dead are going to show up. There was some contention over the interpretation of the Omen, as the Runes were read in a non-traditional manner. This was the first time I’d thought about the value of having a Seer that knows to report what they feel they were called to communicate. Sometimes this means you have to color outside of the lines. Trust in the Seer; even if you were to read it a different way, the Seer was giving a message for a reason.  (word count: 158)

Yule 2008:

Unfortunately, this was the one holiday I was unable to attend at Cedarlight. I was down with the flu, and could not be standing outside in the cold without having to wind up in the hospital. Instead, my closest friends and I (all of them Grove members that I’ve known for years and done ritual work together) held a small Yule ritual (still ADF style actually) in my friend’s living room. The deities called were Brigid, Daghda, and Lugh. We emphasized creativity and our offerings involved improving a story. The three of us drew from our group tarot deck for the omen, in which we asked about our futures with Paganism and what to be prepared for. The three of us had left a group before coming to Cedarlight that still held some negativity for us. Our reading came with a warning of the future, but a positive reinforcement that we were on the right track with CLG.  It was also one of the best smelling rituals ever because of the Cerridwen’s Cauldron Bath Bomb we got from Lush cosmetics.  (word count 180)

Imbolc 2009

Imbolc found me back at Cedarlight where I belonged. The outside world was covered in snow and ice, so rather than trample the sanctuary we decided that the ritual would be held inside. I’m not normally a fan of indoor rituals, but I have to admit that the sound was far better. We were close enough to each other that we could hear the tunes of the song better, and connect more intimately. The ritual itself had a very intimate feeling. The deity we honored was the three aspects of Brigid, with Dagda as gatekeeper. The most memorable parts for me involved the ritual plays that we’ve been incorporating  into the Rites, and the use of a singing bowl that helped tune the group together. It really helped to solidify our group mind and prepare us for the ritual working. The prayer asked us for help with Opening the Ways to Renewable Energy. The omen spoke of us learning to adapt, and was received through scrying and oracle decks.  (word count: 169)

Spring Equinox/Ostara 2009

This equinox was unusual, in that we were looking into the future and sending energy nine generations away to determine what it is we need to do now to help them prepare. The magical working was unreal; the energy was so thick and so directed from each person that I felt you could slice it with a knife. The drumming and attunement that we all shared could be really effective if we all switched on. To be honest, that’s what it felt like.  There was something about the prayer that seemed a bit science fiction to me. It felt as though talking to the people of the ninth generation in the future about what we should be doing now would be paradoxical. Despite my doubts, the Grove tackled the problem of trying to take an omen from the future as a group, and it was quite effective.  (word count 144)

Beltaine 2009

Beltaine focused on community and what each of us brought to the Grove as members. It was essentially our way of greeting the Gods and saying “hello, this is who we are. This is what I bring to the Grove. This is what our community means to me.” It was held less in the traditional fashion of reproductive fertility and more on fertility of the mind. We employed a somewhat unconventional  method of  calling the Ritual Deities; Dagda was called as diplomat/peacekeeper of the evening as all of us in the Ritual called our personal patrons by name. The hope was that Dagda would keep the ire of the other deities at bay if necessary. I suspect that we weren’t giving the Gods enough credit, though, because the Ritual was effective and we didn’t experience any issues. It was a really good time of celebrating our community.  (word count: 147)

Midsummer 2009

Midsummer at the Grove was in honor of the Greek Gods, Apollo and Hermes. This rite was especially memorable to me because it was the first time we’d ever had to do a second round of offerings to please the Gods. For whatever reason, the energy just wasn’t with us that day. This was also the day that we learned that one of our Elders (and our founder) had suffered a stroke. Despite this news, the Grove still pulled together a ritual that was entertaining and cohesive. There was a lot of strife and negativity pinning the undercurrents of the ritual, a fact which I was amused to note that the Gods also did not ignore. We were forced to make answer for ourselves and give more. We are always capable of giving more. I had noticed a steady decline in the type of honest offerings and oaths that I had seen given in the past, and the Gods evidently did, too. We can always give more praise. We can always go through the motions, but if we do not feel it in our hearts then we might as well say nothing at all. The Gods know our minds and our spirits. They recognize who we are and understand our problems, and then they show us the sometimes difficult path out of the rut we’ve found ourselves in. As a Grove we fought the adversity and rose up as a group, ready to continue in the direction we found was right for us.  (word count: 253)

Lughnasadh 2009

Lughnasadh at Cedarlight was the first official ADF high rite that my friend Taryn and I put together. We planned out warrior games that started earlier in the day, and I personally enjoyed myself immensely. Ryn and I (with some help from Kelly) took quite some time organizing this one, as we are rather strict about order. We wanted to place importance on the Omen and make sure it was recorded properly, as this is the magical outcome of the ritual. We carefully crafted our prayer with the seers guild at the Grove, and asked of Lugh and Tailtiue what it was that we (the Grove) needed to do weather the coming storm. We asked that Caryn read the Omen using Ogham, because we felt that it was appropriate for a Celtic rite. Ryn and I wrote and performed a ritual drama with other Grovies to help educate those that were not familiar with our Grove’s patron, Tailtiue. Not only was the ritual drama fun, but we got to teach as well! The winners of the Warrior Games we held earlier were presented as the first offerings to the Tailtiue and Lugh, in their honor. I felt that the offerings that night were meaningful and heartfelt. I have to say that I also feel that the Grove is taking massive strides in the right direction, and we can only gain momentum from here.  (word count: 233)

Mabon 2009

Mabon at the Grove was a ritual designed solely around reconnecting with our teachers and reopening our minds to what they had to say. If we had gotten caught up in other things, now was the time to return to them and remember them. Our teachers could be any of the Kindred. This was also the first ritual where we implemented the addition of a personal omen to be received during the personal magic portion of the ritual. This way, we not only got to hear the voice of our teachers and how we as a Grove should move forward from that point, but we were also able to look and see a personal message from them about our own situation. It was rather clarifying and very personal. What I especially loved about Mabon was how much preparation work that went into it; we divined the prayer as a group, and we journeyed as a group to meet our teachers. I even got homework. We enjoyed it so much that we’re beginning to make the journey working a regular part of ritual preparation. The ritual itself was so intimate, and even though the turnout wasn’t huge, the quality was sublime. I was very impressed with all that made offerings and enjoyed our magical working. I felt as though we were finally coming together as a group and clicking to become a formidable force, despite our differences.  (word count: 233)

Every time I look at myself in the mirror, I see a reflection. At first, I see only myself, and my kneejerk reaction is to look away. If I look closer though, I notice things. I have my grandfather’s eyes. He gave them to my mother and she gave them to me. I have my father’s nose. He got it from his father and passed it on to me. I have my grandmother’s hair; thick and wavy and soft. I wear the bone structure of my ancestors. When I bleed, it is almost as if I were looking straight into the past. I am composed of an unbroken line of individuals who survived harsh winters, famines, and cruelty. I am the product of their strength, joy and ingenuity. I am also a product of their failings and hard times.

I am not limited by my physical attributes to connect me to them. My spirit knew them as well, as they are known to me now. This incarnation of my spirit has experienced the woes of my ancestors in other incarnations. My spirit appeals to those who are not of my blood or lineage.  It recognizes a kinship that is not restricted to those ancestors of blood, but also to ancestors of belief. We share ideas, love, inspiration, fears and philosophies. I feel their losses and their hardships and remain inspired by them to continue on my path.

When we call the ancestors, I see them standing in front of me with knowing in their eternal eyes. I am they, and they are me. I see and feel the presence of my beloved relatives who have passed during my lifetime. My grandmother on my father’s side was my personal mentor and life coach. She was a mother to me in ways my own mother was incapable of doing at one time or another. We established such a closeness that life without her has been painful and uncertain. I feel as though with her passing my training wheels had been removed. I am now an adult, and I have her to thank for preparing me for this life. I was blessed to know her, and remain blessed that she walks with me still and teaches me new things even now.  She and my other ancestors paved the path behind me, so that I may forge the road ahead.

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Part two: Nature Spirits

My pets were the first friends I made in this life that were not my parents. We had a couple of dogs: Angie, Dublin, and Boo. We had a cat who was a stray my mother took pity on, named Calico. We had a whole bunch of bunnies. I learned a lot from these creatures whom I saw as brothers and sisters who were different. Even when my siblings were born, I spent much of my time with the animals that I loved. Angie and I would sit in our family’s garden in rural Delaware, and I would inspect the plants and steal vegetables.  I understood about the seasons and nature’s cycles very early on. The beauty of the earth struck me early in my lifetime. I would watch the travels of the geese as they would flock south in the winter and cover the sky with white wings. I learned about the daffodils of spring and the pumpkins of fall, and snow banks in winter which were as tall as I was. I helped my parents build the world’s most ineffective scarecrows in the fall, and stole vegetables in the garden so often that I often spoiled my appetite for dinner.

Because of my kinship with nature, it also taught me about death. It did not register with me being so young, but when my father had shot a snow goose and had it mounted in his workshop I would sit and talk to it for hours. My father insisted that it was dead, but I didn’t know what that meant. It talked back to me. When my mother accidentally killed a kitten that had crawled into her car’s engine, my parents shielded me from the gore knowing how deeply I loved cats. It was horrible still, feeling the pain of my little friend’s last moments. I sobbed inconsolably for a while, and eventually came to understand life’s greatest lesson at an early age. Death was an end, so a beginning may follow, even though it hurts. Our life cycles and the cycles of the earth were the same. When my other pets passed, they spoke to me in dreams. Sometimes I would feel the warm of their bodies pressing on my feet while I slept even though they had long since passed on.  They taught me dedication, unconditional love, and a sense of play.

I have always been this child of nature; hating pavement and longing to be among trees. There were more valuable lessons to learn in the wilds than there were in the world of human devices. There was so much in the human world that didn’t make sense to me. It seemed so different from nature. As I got older, I began to understand why. Humans are not separate from nature; we are one and the same. However, we’ve spent centuries of prideful dogmas trying to assert our dominance over our own nature.

When my father’s health began to spiral downward, he began to see black panthers skulking around the lawn of our Delaware home. I had chalked that up to the imaginative mind of a man who was mentally unwell, and found through meditation that the black panther is one of my most protective spirit guides.  I currently have two little black cats which comfort me still in times of mental duress. They were with me in the darkest nights of my adult life. What lessons I have learned from these kindred animals have been invaluable, and I am enormously thankful for them all. They serve as messengers from the Gods and guides to the worlds beyond the one we can see.

(word count: 608)

Part three: Shining Ones

The shining ones are our Gods and Goddesses and ascended masters. They are those beings so great as to ascended through time and remain with us still. They are our sacred ones; our shapers and creators of pathways. They are great spirits and teachers, whose teachings and paths we emulate.

I suppose that the concept of “God” is an easy one to wrap my head around because of my Catholic upbringing. However, I also see them as infinite, human, flawed, and entirely worthy of praise and respect. I think of the Gods past whose names we still know, and I often wonder about those whose names we have forgotten. And I often find myself puzzling over whether or not it is possible to create a legitimate God in this day and age. Maybe we’re giving names to a spirit that has always existed, or renaming a deity whose name has been lost to time. Cernunnos or the “Green Man” are examples of this phenomenon.  I have difficulty finding it within myself to worship what is a very modern God based upon uncertain, ancient fragments. However, I feel that if this spirit is so strong and has awoken in so many people, perhaps it was a God we were meant to discover in our time of utmost need. Perhaps an old God/Goddess reincarnated to a form we need to comprehend them as this time around. These possibilities are quite endless.

This said, the ‘Pantheon’ I relate to most would be that of the Tuatha de Danann and the native Gods of Ireland. In particular, I am under the guardianship of the Morrigan; the Great Queen eternal.  When I think of the Shining Ones in my daily practice, I first think of Her. I do not feel as though the Gods are unattainable. In fact, they are our teachers and guides who lead us by example and I interact with on a regular basis. The Gods I know are complex; they bear aspects and faces that they show to individuals but are always more than they let on.  They know my heart, and I honor them wholly. I do not ask anything of the Shining Ones. I accept what they see fit to bestow upon me, as they know best. My relationship with them is one of dedication and service.

I guess there’s a lot of talk about man-made Gods, but I don’t think you can make a spirit. It’s said that some of the earliest Gods were invented as aspects of the human psyche, or to explain away natural occurrences they didn’t understand, however this does very little to explain away a tangible spirit.  One of the things I noticed within Druidry is the high reverence held for the Gods; they respect them. I have met many neo-pagans who are terrified of the Gods.  I suspect it is because of their own shortcomings or dishonesty which makes them afraid to bear it to a Being that can see right through it. In that sense, I believe the Shining Ones teach us honesty.

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I am a visual and hands on-learner. Reading is lovely, and I love to read but if the information is to stick in my memory solidly I must do the task with my own two hands.  I mentioned in my Two Powers essay the training I was receiving at school to learn discipline during meditation, and I’d like to expand on that a little more.

As a youth, I used to sit in my room, burn incense and meditate to the sounds of nature, or Janis, or the Beatles, and oftentimes Enya. I would let my mind go and let my grasp on all the things that were plaguing me and escape for a while into the calm of meditation. This grew to be especially valuable to me during high school, as my family was becoming more broken and painful. Even though I was upset, I learned to be able to calm myself when I desperately needed to relax. I just let the music take me where it wanted to, and stayed there until I was ready to come back again. What this developed in me was a willingness to surrender my body to my imagination and cultivate creativity.  I have always had vivid dreams, some of which have come true in life down to the last detail. I began to accept that there are some things, horrible as they may be, that I cannot change even if I know about them. I began to wonder at my ability to accurately predict these milestone moments in my life, and thought for a while that it had something to do with the ghosts in my house.

What was different about how I used to go about meditation then was that there was only one purpose: to calm me.  I never sought the guidance of spirits or Jesus or anyone like that, and though my path workings as a young person took me marvelous places, I did not yet understand their significance. This was during the time I still believed I was Catholic, and couldn’t yet understand why Jesus never had anything to say to me.

For about four years, I attended a Haidong Gumdo class at Salisbury University, which taught me focus, concentration and discipline. The value of martial arts on meditation is invaluable; it teaches stillness of mind while controlling the body. I learned to think of my body as a physical expression of my spirit rather than just a shell my spirit resided in.  Unfortunately, I had to transfer to another school and the classes had to stop.

My next serious attempts to improve the control over my meditations occurred when I started attending Towson University’s Theater Program. My life had been filled with turmoil, and crisis’ of faith and the timing could not have been more perfect. It gave me the tools to guide myself into Paganism where my true calling lay. We began each class with standing in a circle and connecting with the earth. We would close our eyes and carefully visualize each detail: our roots going deep into the earth, where we stood in the universe, and being able to feel the people next to and around us.  We did this three times a week for an entire semester, and carefully added toning into the mix. By the end of the semester, we were all so intune with each other’s movements that we began to communicate wordlessly about when a tone or meditation should end. Our teacher spoke of the innate ability birds in a flock have to change direction without signal, and that we humans have stifled that ability in ourselves. So, the aim of the class was not only to be able to control our voice, but to maintain intimate knowledge of our own bodies, minds, and the awareness of the spirit of others. Method acting is tough stuff, and there were a couple breakdowns that occurred in people during this process. However, I left that semester with the tools I was lacking from my earlier attempts at path workings and eventually found my home in Cedar Light Grove.  It amused me how similar the Two Powers meditation was to what we did in my Theater class.

Since attending Cedarlight, I’ve began to call the Gods and Guides by name because I now know and understand who they are. From the moment they had been revealed, we have been locked tightly ever since. I walk closely with my guides Morrighan, Panther, Bunny, and Raven in all of my path workings and meditations. They guide me and protect me fiercely from things that may harm me needlessly. I have grown familiar with meeting a white hart and several nameless sidhe that accompany me along the way. I have also been able to feel and understand the presence of my Ancestors more.

Over the last six months, I have thrown my entire lot in with Cedarlight Grove, and made many friends among local practitioners of other Pagan faiths who have been enormously helpful to me. I have attended several guided meditations, each one more intriguing than the last. I have also taken up a nightly ritual (sometimes every other night) of meditating at my bedside altar just before sleep. I also greet my altar in the morning, as I know that my loved spirits have residence there. Often meditation before sleep produces fruitful and fascinating dreams. I’d always had amazing dreams, but since meditating more frequently and gaining control over my mental facilities I’ve even begun writing some of them into books. I found this to be especially fascinating, my growth into becoming a writer, because it’s something I never saw coming. I attended one journey working held by a friend at our local ‘new age’ store, and I’m very glad I did.  In it, I received a gift from my higher spiritual self in the form of a golden quill. I found that puzzling at the time, and now it means so much more. I’m writing more, (books even! Although they are yet unpublished)such as this Dedicant Program. I also contribute to our resurrected Grove Newsletter with three other gifted individuals.  It is possible that my life was aiming me at this role that I have been nominated for on the Grove Witan as scribe (of all things). I’m curious to know where it will take me from here, but I am very glad for the accuracy and insight I gain through practiced meditation.  It has been an eye opening experience regarding the power I have in myself to harness the gifts I possessed and I had not recognized before.

I am often really bad at keeping journals, and that’s an understatement. I have begun writing down the events and images from journey workings though in a book I keep on my night stand altar. I’ve learned that doing so can help me access those same places if I choose to visit them in the future.  I also include omens, such as the one from the most recent Samhain. I feel something changing quite rapidly in the future and am trying to document it as it happens. Sometimes when meditations or dreams are significant enough, I share them with my Grovies. That is something I’d always had difficulty doing with other people, for fear of being written off. My fear has since been erased.

I really think that I’ve come a very long way from being a frightened child seeking to escape the pains of her life, to realizing that powerful spirits walk with me (they always have) and I can interact with them just as I can anyone else. I hope to continue growing in these abilities to hone them more sharply, and I also intend to start writing about them more regularly.

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