TC and LotS Synchronicities - Bear and Star

During this past week, I've done my best to avoid a lot of the identity-angst in the online Pagan community, mostly by writing here instead of replying to blog posts and social media comment threads where I might become food for trolls. But there has also been a strong current of energy going on that has led me to write a number of in-depth blog posts for Meadowsweet & Myrrh, which will be going up over the next few weeks.

I'm not even sure what prompted it, but today I wandered over to TC to check in and see how things were going (in part because it's my flamekeeping shift)... and I found that this had been going on. Another amazing riot of UGP and SPG centering on the Lady of the Stars/Brighid. It is so awesome to see such a vibrant and open conversation going on about the nature of the gods.

Part of me wants to chime in, but part of me feels like I've been away too long and I don't know if I could really get a foothold anyway. I've never really felt like I "fit in" with the TC folks, and I kinda feel like the reason the LotS group fell apart before was partly my fault (though maybe that's just ego-centric guilt talking). I know that Finn and Aster (and I think Tana) have continued to work together on exploring Brighid/LotS, and when we first got out here to Seattle, I did briefly mention it to Finn, but her response was one that seemed to suggest that it was something they were working on — like, it was "their thing" — and I would be welcome to learn about it when they were ready to share, but they weren't interested in me being involved in that work. I didn't want to intrude, so I just let it go. But part of me did feel a little sad, because I did so very much want to be able to practice with others. Sometimes I worry that I come across as too... keen, and it makes other people feel like I'm shutting them down or they just don't want to share because I'm in the middle of my swirling knife dance and they don't want to stick a limb out and get nicked. ("Keen" like the new young cop on the beat whose overly eager and going to get himself into trouble, so nobody wants to hang around him and the old-timers just shake their heads and brace against the eager energy and wait for the new guy to get some smarts knocked into him. But in the meantime, there's a lot of patient eye-rolling that goes on behind his back.)

Anyway, as a result, I think I struggled a lot with my relationship with Brighid over the past couple years because I didn't really have a community who was willing to support me and work with me in my relationship with her, and so like a lot of other things that I try to do on my own, I start to get really hard on myself and things kind of fall apart and collapse into a pile of frustration and guilt over it. Bless his heart, Jeff is pretty awful when it comes to shared practice and worship, because his gods are very much his personal posse and he always seems to talk about them like they're primarily concerned with him and his life, and there's not really much room in his approach to them that calls for group or community worship. I've really enjoyed our solstice rituals in part because it's my only real chance to have some kind of group practice, and I don't think it's a coincidence that for the past two years, these solstice rituals have mostly focused on stars and such. For last year's ritual, we specifically invoked Brighid in her aspect as Lady of the Stars, the guiding star on the darkest night though also closely related to the rebirth of the new sun. This year, we focused on the bear and her associations with the winter and the darkness of the cave as a place of rest and rebirth.

It's going on half a year since I suddenly stumbled upon a relationship with Artemis, and though she is very much the maiden hunter and moon goddess to me, she is also connected with the fresh wellsprings of cleansing waters, the wild forested mountains, and the bear. In fact, during this time of the year, her bear aspect seems especially pronounced and she even seems to have a bit of a "motherly" aspect to her -- though maybe it's more the midwife vibe, since she is definitely not the "mama bear" personality that is so readily evoked by people like, say, Sarah Palin (ugh). Anyway, the point is, I have this sense of her as a bear goddess, deeply connected both with the fresh waters of springs and rivers (and with the salmon of wisdom, to do a little cross-cultural myth mixing), and also with the stars, since the bear as a sacred animal has always for me been connected with the Great Bear constellation and the starry night sky (in fact, I've often called on the bear in ritual as the "starry bear of midnight").

So this thread over on TC about the Lady of the Stars seems interesting to me, especially since it began with some opening comments about Sulis and other "water related" goddesses. Artemis is, for me, very strongly connected with water, more than Brighid ever was for me, really. And she is very strongly connected with the stars as well.

Yet Brighid, who is still lingering and hasn't gone away, also has a strong connection to the stars. In both cases, there is a wildness there, a primordial feeling... but whereas with Artemis the wildness is quiet, rippling and dark (sometimes sleek like a deer or wolf, sometimes much more bear-like and somewhat lumbering, but swiftly), with Brighid the wildness is roaring like a furnace, dark but fiery like the heart of an intense flame, hot and active. I think of Artemis like the sweat of ecstatic dance or the wild chase of the hunt; whereas Brighid is the sweat of labor, the sweat of the forge and creation. Artemis sings like a bowstring, Brighid sings like a hammer on an anvil.

After writing the post on the bear that will be going up on Meadowsweet this coming Friday, I asked Jeff to read it. I wonder if maybe part of the reason I'm feeling more connected to Artemis, especially in her bear aspect, is because in some ways the bear is a totem for our family. Jeff has always felt very strongly connected to the bear, and his UPG connected it with Apollo but also somewhat with Odin. I have never really had any spark of connection with either Apollo or Odin, and there wasn't much of one with the bear, either, at least not for a long time. But now, it seems like the bear is becoming a powerful presence in our household.

Of course, when I asked Jeff to read my post, his response was that he liked it but that wasn't really what he associated with the bear.

So... still by myself in my worship, I guess. I read about other people getting together to talk about the gods and maybe practice together, even if only informally, and I wonder why I'm always on the wrong side of the UPG/SPG. Like in that meditative journeywork I did a while back, always having to linger just outside the bonfire's circle of light, listening to other people sharing stories but always having to dance to my gods on my own.

Shared Insights into Brighid's Stellar Aspects

Something I shared just now over on TC's LotS group:

In November 2010, a bunch of us over on the old Cauldron forum had a moment of what might be called "unverified shared gnosis" about the stellar aspects of Brighid - when our individual UPGs seemed to converge on a shared understanding that, though common among us, was not necessarily reflected in the traditional lore and mythology about Brighid.

I've been thinking more about this phenomenon recently, and how it might be part the evolution of the gods in mutual relationship with our own growing scientific and technological understanding of the natural world. I'm no expert on comparative mythology, but I don't really know of any ancient deities that were both solar and stellar in nature, or any ancient cultures that believed that the stars were actually suns like ours that were small because they were so far away (if there were any, I think they were probably pretty rare at least). Now with our scientific understanding of the relationship between our sun and the stars in the night sky, it makes sense to me that a solar/fire goddess like Brighid would have a latent stellar aspect that might be coming to the surface in light (pun intended!) of our expanding knowledge.

So I like to keep my eyes open for other examples of this emerging understanding of Brighid as a stellar goddess. And I thought here might be a good place to for all of us to share any examples that we come across.

One that I found just today, in fact, was in the book The Salmon in the Spring: The Ecology of Celtic Spirituality by Jason Kirkey. In one section, he's telling a story about a time in his life when he was "apprenticed to winter" and struggling with a certain spiritual aimlessness, when he decided to go out walking among the hills of Ireland. Lost in a thick mist, he felt the spiritual winter melting away and Brighid's warm presence prompting him to joyous laughter. As he began to make for home, he realized he'd been completely turned around and didn't know which direction to head in to get back to the harbor village where he was staying - when suddenly, despite it being three in the afternoon, a single star appeared in the mist as a guiding light. He set off in that direction, making his way down the hill - and the star grew brighter and brighter as he neared. He writes (emphasis mine):

The impossibility of the moment was weighing on me. How could there be a single star shining so bright through the mist in the afternoon? At any moment, I expected to reach the star, now a vaginal opening of light through the mist, and be born back into the world. A wind blew suddenly. The mist thinned. Briefly I glimpsed a world which was foreign to me, inhabited by streets, cars, and fishing boats. In Ireland people tell stories of glimpsing the faery people and their paradisiacal world. I felt like running back to the stones to tell them my tale of glimpsing a human world full of both beauty and confusion. My star was the sun reflecting off the harbor. So disoriented, my perception within the mist had dissolved all heights and depths within each other; externally and internally. Here there was unity between Heaven and Earth.

He describes this event as occurring in early February right around Imbolc, but of having a feel about it that reminded him strongly of a solstice, so much so that he intuitively thought of the star leading the wise men in the Christian story of Jesus' birth.

This passage struck me so strongly for a couple of reasons:

- First, only a few days ago, I led a Druidic solstice ritual for my family (husband, stepkids, parents and brother, nine of us in total) in which we honored both Jesus as a deity of the newborn sun and Brighid as a stellar goddess. In Irish folklore, St. Brigid is known as the "midwife of Christ" and during our meditation and candle-lighting ceremony I used the story of the star guiding the wise men to tie into the idea of Brighid as a stellar goddess and creatrix helping to "give birth" to our most intimate star, the sun. That only a few days later I should read a passage in a book linking Brighid the goddess not just to Imbolc but to the winter solstice through exactly the same story was pretty powerful.

- Second, the very fact that after describing his sense of Brighid's presence, Kirkey goes on to describe a profound experience of being guided by a star.... a star that, in fact, turns out to be the sun! And not just the sun, but the sun reflected in water! Ummm..... Fire In Water anyone? This experience of disorientation where distance blends "up" and "down" until they are indistinguishable and a reflection below can seem like a star from above is something I myself experienced earlier this fall while on my honeymoon - traveling through the flat desert of Utah at sunset, gazing westward it seemed to me that I was not looking up into a rose-gold sky, but looking down from a great height out onto a strange sea whose waters were illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun, with the dark shapes of clouds scattered like islands in that water. So again, there's this blending of fire and water in connection with the sun. In my case, this was just before our first night of camping out beneath the stars in a national park that's considered one of the best star-gazing sites in the country.

What's interesting is that, even though he mentions Brighid only a paragraph earlier and in the context of this same story, Kirkey doesn't himself make any explicit connection between her presence and the sudden appearance of the sun-[i]qua[/i]-star. It's not as though he's intentionally trying to make that connection with his story - but the relationship seems almost inescapably obvious considering some of the Unverified Shared Gnosis of this group.

I'd love to hear people's thoughts on this, or if anyone else has come across examples of this kind of unexpected shared gnosis in other places!

Diary - Brighid, Lady of the Stars

Sun: leo (fixed fire), 6:35 AM - 8:11 PM
Moon: waning gibbous, taurus (fixed earth)
Earth: cool and bright this morning, though the air is thick with mist lying low in the grassy valleys of the park

A reader of my website asked me to elaborate on my relationship with Brighid as a stellar goddess. This is what I wrote in response:

S--,

That is a great question - in both senses of the word! It's a really good one, and it's also a really BIG one! :) I'll do my best to answer it briefly here, and I also have an "about the gods" post coming up in my 30 Days of Druidry meme where I'll probably touch on it a bit more.

My relationship with Brighid is very mutable and seems to always be in flux, but one thing that has remained consistent is my connection with her "darker" aspect. Lady Gregory described the goddess as having a face that was one half fair and beautiful, and one half dark and ugly. Up until then, I'd only ever read about her "light" aspect, her connection with fertility and inspiration and the sacred fire in all its various manifestations. When I read that line by Lady Gregory, though, suddenly something "clicked" for me, and Brighid as a goddess became suddenly much more complex and compelling to me. This relationship between light and dark mingling and rubbing up against one another creates that liminal space that is so much associated with Brighid - especially the saint, who was born at dawn on the threshold of the doorway, a daughter of a Druid chief and a Christian slave who grew up to become the most powerful saint in Ireland, even more than St. Patrick, as well as the first and only female bishop (so the legends go).

The goddess, too, has these liminal light-and-dark aspects in her lore. As one of the Tuatha dé Danann, she was a goddess of light, order and civilization. Yet in the wake of the war between the Tuatha dé and the Fomorians, she marries Bres, King of the Fomorians (and half-Tuatha dé himself) in an attempt to make peace and forge an alliance between the warring sides. Together, they have a son, who is later killed in battle as a result of a betrayal, and Brighid wails for him in grief - the first keening that was ever heard in Ireland. So here you have these deep connections between light and dark, joy and sorrow, peace and war, in the mythology surrounding her, and over and over she occupies a liminal position or place between the two. I think this is what Lady Gregory meant by saying her face was half light and half dark. As for the saint, it was said that St. Brighid was amazingly beautiful, but she was committed to becoming a nun with the church and did not want to marry, so to avoid a suitor she gouged out one of her eyes in order to make herself ugly, so that her face became literally half beautiful and half grotesque (afterwards, she restored her own eye in an act of miraculous healing). I think this story from the saint, as well as some of the lore surrounding Brighid as a goddess, shows her willingness to "go dark" when a higher purpose calls for it. It reminds me of a poem by Wendell Berry:

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

So all of that is the basis of my view of Brighid in the lore, which you probably already mostly knew already! My personal relationship with her, beginning with that realization of her darker aspect, has consistently included an understanding of her as sometimes swinging between these light and dark sides. My first most powerful direct experience of her presence was during a time when I was traveling, feeling ungrounded and lonely and cut off - I was sitting in a hotel room alone at night watching the rain fall steadily in an unfamiliar city, and I saw the lights of the city reflected in the water and had an overwhelming sense of her presence as this vast, deep awareness that was so.... big that she passed over me like I was a speck of dust caught up on the hem of her mantle. She wasn't just "represented" by the light in the water, she was the light in the water, and so in that way she was absolutely everywhere, she was a natural force that was utterly enduring and changeable, no matter what came and went she would be there in some form or another.

For a while, then, my relationship with her involved the more common light-focused aspects of sacred fire and solar energies. I began keeping her flame with a Brighidine Cill and working with her creative energies as poet. But I was rarely able to connect with her other two traditional roles - the healer, and the smith. Then late last fall, I was in conversation with some others in the Cill about her various aspects, and someone brought up the work of smithcraft and the forge as a place of creation and transformation. I forget exactly how it happened, but through the conversation and the "lobbing of lightbulbs" back and forth, we began to collectively come to an understanding of Brighid as a kind of primordial creatrix figure.

I guess one way to think about it is that her aspect as a solar deity kind of "withdrew" into a far distance and her darker aspect once again asserted itself. "To know the dark, go dark" - associations with the dark heat of the forge, with its noise and steam and sweat and dull ember glow, out of which springs suddenly the spark of light as the hammer strikes the metal on the anvil.... all these were images we came to understand were an aspect of her connection with the stars, those far distant suns that were only pinpricks of light, but that stemmed from a "big bang" in the primordial past, the same that gave birth to our own sun. The metaphor of "fire in the water" has some deep connections in the Celtic worldview with the basic stuff of creation and creativity - and this was not only reflected in the creative process of poetry (the spark of inspiration in the "watery" realm of emotions), but also the hot springs of healing and the blacksmith's process of tempering metal using both fire and water to achieve the sharpest edge. The stars themselves are like sparks of light in the vast ocean of night. They are inconceivably far away, and yet their light reaches us steadily, so reliably that they have shaped our understanding of the very structure of the universe (through both astrology and modern astronomy) and have been used for centuries as guides for sailors navigating on the sea with no stable landmark to follow. In this way, stars are themselves in a kind of liminal space and they draw us into that space as well when we gaze on them. Unlike the moon (which can sometimes seem so big that it's almost right on top of you!), the stars on a moonless night seem to exert their own kind of gravity. I've spent nights star-gazing on top of Mount Cadillac, the tallest mountain on the eastern seaboard, and more than once have felt that giddy vertigo of suddenly feeling the earth as a tiny speck of dust in the vastness of space, a speck too small to hold me down. Because the stars are so far away, and yet so present to us through their endless, self-giving light, they seem to pull us into this place suspended between intimacy and mystery.

So when I talk about Brighid's "stellar" aspect, this is a little bit of what I mean. I see Brighid primarily as a celestial deity - a Shining One, a being of the heavens, of sky and space. As a celestial deity, her "light" aspect is expressed through her role as a solar goddess, a goddess of the sun and the fires here on earth that we have the most connection and relationship with. But she is also a stellar goddess in her "dark" aspect, in which the light itself retreats into the surrounding darkness and becomes hardly more than the pinpricks of the stars, yet still with all the same power and mystery about it. In both senses, she has this liminal quality to her, and there is often overlap. (As a goddess of the dawn, she strides between night and day, with not only the rising sun but also the "morning star" of Venus as companions!)

So I hope that answers your question at least a little bit. :) This is still a relationship that I'm exploring, and like I said, it swings between light and dark for me quite a bit. Over the winter, her stellar aspect was especially strong for me, whereas in spring and early summer her solar/fire aspect was much more powerful and present to me. Now I seem to be in a place of balance in my relationship with her (and this is partly due, I think, to my evolving relationship with Manannan, Son of the Sea).... So, we'll see. :)

--Ali

What's Next for LotS?

My responses to questions about "What's next?" for the Lady of the Stars group.

I've been... avoiding answering these questions, and I'm not sure why. Partly wanting to see what everyone else is saying and going off to mull over those responses, but also for some other reasons I'm not exactly sure of. Anyway, ::deep breath:: here goes....

What do you want out of this group?

I... don't know. So - in the interest of complete honesty - sometimes I feel like my connection with the Lady/Brighid is very tenuous, on the edge of being "just in my head" and I feel like even though I'm all right with the theoretical/theologizing side, I struggle a lot with the actual belief side of things. But when this group first came together and we were planning ritual and sharing experiences and just having lots of conversation, I felt like that whole community process helped me a great deal to really cultivate a real relationship with Her. Some of you have such profound insights to share, and being able to work with others who are also building relationship with Her is immensely inspiring and helpful to me. So I want that from the group. I'm not sure if it's the ritual, or the conversation, or the meditative work - I feel like I got a lot out of each of those and I definitely want more of them - whatever it was in particular, this group helped me to really feel that She was in my life in a powerful way. Wherever we end up going, it's that sense of Her presence in our work that I really want.

What are different avenues you want to explore (ritual work, meditation, etc)?

I would like to explore more ritual work. In part because I really love writing liturgy, either on my own or collaboratively, and in part because I think sometimes without the structure or the commitment there, I tend not to do very much ritual (I'm a bit of a lazy ritualist) even though I think it is good for me and for my spiritual life. So having you folks around to kick me in the butt when I need it, definitely!

Also, I think someone (M.?) mentioned about writing or journaling prompts? I'd like more creative project prompts in general - these work really well for me, maybe even better than meditation prompts. With meditation, again, I think I'm just lazy, but I love writing and working on crafting a story or poem or prayer, so it's easier to keep my focus and feel like I'm working at something - whereas sometimes I just do meditation and, um, nothing happens. ;)

What do you feel you can bring to the group?

Um - an unrealistic enthusiasm bordering on obsession? In mundane terms, I'm in a position where I have the flexibility with my time and energy where I usually can devote a lot to simple group maintenance and stuff when necessary (and after I'm done with this f**k**fr***ing wedding planning, I'll have even more). I also think I tend to be very analytical and fascinated with the theology side of things, worrying away at paradoxes or inconsistencies in my own ideas or in others', like a dog worrying a bone... which sometimes can be useful, though sometimes not. I offer that to the group for what it's worth. (For some reason just now, I got an image of those carved offerings they've found in the shafts of old wells in Ireland and Britain, that could be interpreted either as a pair of eyes, or a pair of breasts. So I guess I'm sometimes insightful, sometimes a complete boob?)

What are some reservations or fears you might have?

I guess my two biggest fears are that, on the one hand, I'm too needy and on the other, I'm too analytical, and that this is a bad combination and prevents me from really connecting well with you guys or being able to spur the kind of group cohesion and inspiration I feel like I want to or wish I could. I'm not sure why this is such a big fear for me... I think I echo Finn's thoughts, too, about worrying about the group losing focus or clarity - and then getting it in my head that somehow I need to be responsible for making sure that doesn't happen (while worrying about simultaneously coming across as both too pushy and too needy). This is the whole trust/faith/belief thing for me again, though, I guess - trying to think that spark of community and creativity into being instead of just allowing it to happen or trusting in the Lady to do what She needs/wants to do with it.

Diary - Dream & Manannan

Sun: taurus (fixed earth), 6:03am - 8:30pm
Moon: *full moon, scorpio (fixed water)
Earth: gray, drizzly, rainy and cool all day

I woke up this morning (around 5 AM) from a very intense dream once again involving a sea god or man deeply connected with the sea, who I'm almost sure is Manannan.

This dream started out as similar to a dream I had a few weeks ago focused on anxiety about the upcoming wedding. In this dream, like the first wedding dream, I was stressed out about the wedding happening "too soon" and thus our wedding guests not taking it seriously — but "too soon" in the dream meant not our set wedding date in September, but right now, this instant. In the dream, I was not engaged to Jeff but to some other man. I don't think I ever saw him in the dream, but I had an impression of him being shorter and stockier than Jeff, darker in hair and complexion and rather rough and harsh. I was set to marry him "in May" (in other words, within the next few weeks), and I was somewhere resembling something like a beach house with my parents and a number of other people, some of whom were my family members and some not.

While there, I met a man and fell passionately in love with him, in the kind of deep-longing-to-be-together-but-never-really-consummating kind of way. The magnetism or connection between us was palpable, as it was in my previous dream about being mistaken for a priestess of the sea god. I felt like my heart was breaking open, but not exactly in sadness. We spent time together on the beach, and during the course of our conversations it became clear that if I tried to enter into some kind of friendship or relationship with him — even if it could not be a romantic one — this would fundamentally change my relationship with my fiancé. I wanted desperately to delay the wedding until the appropriate time (in September) so that I could spend the next months exploring my connection with this man of the sea, and I knew that if I did that, then the man I eventually married would be changed — I would not marry the dark, short, stocky man that I might marry "in May," but would instead end up marrying Jeff as I actually know him — but this was not because the person I was marrying would literally change and I would marry someone else… it was as though the darker man would somehow transform into Jeff through my relationship with the sea god.

This was all very confusing, but I knew that I wanted to explore the relationship with the mysterious man that I felt such a connection to. Still, I couldn't bring myself to let my family know or tell anyone, so I just tried to think of reasons to delay the wedding. I would meet him covertly, among other friends, as though he just happened to be a mutual acquaintance. Once, when out swimming in the ocean, he caught up to me in the deep waters where we could be alone. He said he had a gift for me, then dove down into the depths, not resurfacing for a long time. When he did finally resurface, he was pulling up from beneath the waters a huge ship, its wood creaking and spilling water from it. Friends from shore saw the boat and came out to see, so that soon everyone was clambering on board to explore (while I still stayed treading water next to him in the ocean). On one part of the deck of the ship was a hole in the boards which was covered over and seemed almost to be surrounded by dirt mounded up with bits of grass growing around it. It looked very much like a well of some kind, like you might find on land. Someone asked about it, and the sea-god-man warned them not to open it — they thought it was just a hatch down below deck, but he said (or made me to understand, at least) that it wasn't. Actually, it was a well, a kind of portal that dropped straight down into the depths of the ocean/underworld. He made me to understand that I could stay and live with him on the ship out on the ocean, but even there, I couldn't always be with him. Everyone once in a while, he would have to open the cover of the well and drop down into the very depths, where I could not follow him, and we would be parted. The notion of being parted from him was painful, but in a way that seemed like a noble sacrifice that was well worth it.

Soon after understanding the purpose of the well on the ship, I woke up.

So a great deal to mull over and contemplate in this latest dream (including the question of why I seem to be able to connect with Manannan so much better in dreams than during my ritual times with hi — or, I guess, why he chooses to show up at one time instead of another).

Part of what fed into this dream, I think, was my emotional state last night, spurred on by (yes, I'm a nerd) finally watching the Doctor Who specials from the year between the end of the fourth season and the beginning of the fifth with the 11th Doctor (that obnoxious actor guy who isn't David Tennant). David Tennant as the Doctor saw me through some pretty brutal, lonely times during those years of solitude and poverty — as well as the first few months of my budding romance with Jeff when we finally met in person for the first time (we spent several nights curled up on the futon watching Doctor Who, and then lapsing into make-out sessions while the TARDIS churned on the DVD menu screen ;). For the two or so years since then, I couldn't bring myself to watch the final episodes of Season Four (when the Doctor definitively loses both Rose and Donna, his best friend) for a second time… until just a few weeks ago when Jeff and I decided to go ahead and do it because we were going to start watching them over again with a friend of ours during a weekly "Night of Doctor Who" get together. Just last night, we watched the Special when the 10th Doctor dies. I cried like a baby. Like, we're talking sobs.

Several hours later, when we were settling into bed, I started crying again in a kind of odd mixture of sobs and laughter…. I can't describe exactly why I was crying, but it wasn't just about some silly TV show. I was remembering who I was during those years of deep, wrenching loneliness, and in some ways, I felt like I was mourning that Alison who had to live through those years. I rarely think about that time of my life these days, and my life now seems full of lots of little stresses and anxieties… and yet, now I am so amazingly happy and grateful that it's almost like I can't really allow myself to fully feel that joy, or I'd just be wandering around like a grinning idiot all the time. So there was this weird, sublime tension between my deep grief for that Alison of memory who is, in some ways, always going to be there, in that past, alone and weeping… and at the same time realizing how utterly ridiculous I was for not opening more fully to the joy of my present life. The only way I coped with those years of heartache was to embrace that loneliness and learn to grieve openly and cleanly, so that grieving became a process of healing and an affirmation of life. Now, I have so much to be grateful and joyful about… and yet I'm busy pushing myself, always striving, and beating myself up for not accomplishing more, not moving my career forward as quickly as I want to, not being as good a stepmom as I want to be, etc. All these stresses that, really, aren't that big a deal. Last night, it was as if I was again that sorrowing Alison of memory, only now I was looking forward at my life today… and laughing at how silly I can be, never cutting myself any slack or letting myself enjoy a rest. The whole metaphor of "regeneration" in the Doctor Who series, and this idea that the new Doctor is not really the same even if he has all the same memories… that's kind of what I felt like. Except, I don't want to forget the sadness and grief and loneliness of who I was before. I want to honor the lessons that sorrow and solitude taught me, and be more present to the very real joy in my life right now.

So before going to bed, I had resolved to develop some meditative/ritual practice to help me cultivate my joy and offer it as a gift, as I once did with my loneliness, to my gods and to Spirit and the Song of the World. I didn't know exactly what kind of practice this would be, but I wanted to pursue it. So it's not that much of a surprise to me that this kind of intense emotional turmoil and catharsis last night brought on dreams once again of Manannan. He always seems connected, for me, to that liminal state between sorrow and joy, grief and gratitude. The longing to be with him — and the wrenching awareness that I can't ever be, not really, not permanently — is a theme in so many relationships in my life (and one reason I think I found the Doctor so resonant and moving as a character). That I'm in a good, happy, stable relationship now doesn't really change that. In some ways, Manannan is reminding me, I think, that even with those we love, there are dark places we cannot touch and depths to which we cannot follow, and that as close as I feel to Jeff, I cannot take our relationship for granted. If I do, then the person I am marrying won't really be Jeff, but some shallower version of him more prone to my projections, more of a stranger than the man I love. But if I work to cultivate my joy and my gratitude and my love, especially in the depths where all becomes liminal and the autumn mists rise, then in the coming months my relationship with Jeff will deepen and blossom even more, and our marriage will truly be one of souls in love. I remember in the dream, understanding that it was important to wait until September, and spend time with this Man of the Sea, so that when the time came for me to marry, my marriage would blessed by the cool mists of autumn.

~

Ellen on the LotS SIG asked what I do during a "Seakeeping" shift with Manannan, so I thought I would share my response to her here.

Honestly, at this point, my practice with Manannan is still in its infancy, taking many stumbling baby-steps. My basic pattern for ritual work is the same I use for Brigid during my Cauldron Cill Flamekeeping shift. I begin my shift at sundown of the appropriate day, opening with a small, simple ritual of welcome.

For Brigid, I have prayers that I use to more fully invite her presence into my life and to charge/consecrate anew the flame pendant that I wear during my Flamekeeping shift. I light a physical candle during this ritual, even if I'll only be able to keep an LED one "burning" during the shift itself, and I pass the pendant above the flames while chanting, "Fire and Water in the Earth of my body, I keep your Sacred Flame." I don't really have a similar thing to do for Manannan, though I've been thinking for a while of finding either a shell pendant to wear, or a ring made of shell (like those hokey ones you can get at beach tourist gift shops). Instead of lighting a candle, I have a blue pitcher that I fill with water which I'll hold between my hands to charge, then pouring libation into my offering bowl (and taking a sip to honor the Spirit/god within). I do have a large whelk shell that was a gift from the sea when I was down at the beach last fall that I also bless. Afterwards, for both Flamekeeping and Seakeeping, I spend some time in meditation and prayer, maybe doing some trance work if I have the stamina for it, and usually concluding the ritual with a divination. During the next 24ish hours, I keep/carry/wear the symbol of my shift with me (and for Brigid, keep either a real or LED flame burning) as a reminder and object of focus for my shift. The next night at sundown, I do a closing ritual where I thank the god/dess for the gifts they've brought into my life, and basically do a kind of "unwinding" (for Brigid, this kind of takes the form of a metaphorical "smooring the fire" for safekeeping until my next shift).

This works very well for Brigid… but I'm finding that for Manannan, it's not jiving as well. For one thing, the metaphor of the flame or fire as something that requires tending (and then can be "smoored") means that the activity of the Flamekeeping shift is actually, well, active, even if only in a metaphorical sense. I feel like I'm actually doing something during my Flamekeeping shift, and usually my creativity feels a bit heightened. During my Seakeeping shifts, though, I've more often felt at a loss for what I was supposed to be doing… There was kind of a sense of the ocean not really being something that needs tending or "keeping," and lighting a candle just feels more active then filling a bowl with water (which will slowly evaporate over the next month, whether I pay attention to it or not). I think this may be one area where I need to rethink the Seakeeping shift and how I approach it. I'm exploring the idea of incorporating some ritual practice that's more about opening myself up to receptivity and relaxing into the presence of Manannan, and not so much about the active engagement and honoring that I do with Brigid during my Flamekeeping… if that makes sense. Some kind of ritual bath would probably be good in this case, but not always possible depending on where I am and what my schedule is.

Like I mentioned already, what I'd really like is to be able to develop some unique rituals for each of the Flamekeeping and Seakeeping shifts, particular to the energies of those deities, but then have one or two practices that I do during both that kind of connect or help to integrate them in some way. (I'm thinking, for instance, of the "Running the Iron/Pearl Pentagrams" in Feri, though I know very little about that other than their names, or the Turning the Three Cauldrons meditation that I've heard about here and there.) So that's where I'm at right now. Trying to find some kind of ritual that is simple enough and practical enough that I can actually commit to doing it regularly… but is also effective and ritually/symbolically meaningful and fitting…. So, lots to think about and experiment with.

Lady of Star Fire, Son of the Sea

A post to the Lady of the Stars SIG on TC, that I thought would be relevant to my "seakeeping" shift today.

So this is something I've been mulling over for quite a while, since a ways back when I had that intense dream about a "sea god" and began to explore and expand my relationship with Manannan. My work with Brigid seemed to be put "on hold" for a period, and she's only recently started to reassert herself. Now I'm working to try to integrate and understand how these two deities might somehow work together or relate to one another in a shared practice.

I think there are several of you in the LotS SIG who also work with Manannan as well as Brigid. A lot of our responses in the "Who is the Lady?" thread evoke some pretty significant connections between fire and water, and I'm feeling a similar push/pull from Manannan, though from a bit of a different perspective.

The Lady of Star Fire seems to me very much like a spark in the darkness. Sometimes, her "spark" is what feels emphasized, her fire and light, her warmth and activity and creativity and passion (and these feel very much like Brigid's more traditional "solar" aspect to me). Other times, it is her "dark" aspect that seems to come to the fore, the primal, primordial nature, the black seas of the universe stretching between the stars.

Manannan feels equally paradoxical in nature. If the Lady is the fire-in-the-water, Manannan sometimes feels to me like the water-in-the-fire… The overwhelming energy of intense emotion, the inspiration of the past, the palpable tingling of mist against skin, the lightning in the storm...

[snipped for relevance]

She That Is: A Meditation on Brigid Star Fire

I gather together the candles, the prayer beads, the scattered objects and tools I've consecrated to Her over the past few years, and I set them before me on the altar. Three candles burning. One flame flickering deep, half-hidden in a thick, white pillar mostly melted down, its edges sculpted in soft dips and peaks like slowly collapsing snow or the heights of a mountain. One pillar still like new, solid sculpted wax, churning the cool rusted copper of LED electricity, nestled in its hurricane vase of cracked orange and red glass. One small candle floating, a dull gold ring around a bright, steady flame, hovering suspended by clear water studded with glints and glitter in a dark, blue bowl rimmed with black.

What is She? Who is She? Celestial, ephemeral, pristine and pure, delicate, new, grace itself, fresh and bright. Earthy, dark and grounded, sweat and dirt and hot breath, the hard flex and tension of muscle, the rough power of fire and stone, the burning fluidity of molten ore. Primal, deep and ageless, utter stillness and distance, utter light in the darkness, spun out, flung out, fragmented, holographic, the whispering wholeness buried within each disparate glint of limit and form.

And the hammer, the anvil, the spark — the sweat and hot breath of the universe, the work and labor of the cosmos brought to bear on itself, the earthy Ground of Being lifted, deepened, expanded to fill a sky overwhelmed with the clamor of stars, each forged, each made new, pristine, a shining fragment of light. And the stars, the infinite suns, perfect spheres in a great dance of beauty, humming with song, swung in great arcs as though in one another's arms, spinning into newly created moments, new beginnings, like a child spinning around her center in a fresh spring meadow, arms flung out, effortless in grace and welcome.

And the hiss of the steam, the pulsing of groundwater, the twining thrust of energy rising in the mound, a serpent of stars in the dark earth. The tongue of flame licking dark and bright above the wellspring, the purity and intensity of all-consuming heat, soften, tempered by the fresh, cold waters.

She is too much. I cannot hold onto Her, I cannot see Her — I can only follow the winding, spiraling connections, dynamic and always changing, fluid, fleet. Sometimes She is overwhelming, even austere, so hot and great that Her fire burns cold. Sometimes She is all innocence and promise, coaxing and gentle and warm, caressing and playful. Sometimes She is so intimate I cannot tell Her from my own passion, the drive that spurs me, the energy that courses through my blood and lashes out in righteous anger or sharp, clever words like a long blade. Sometimes, She is absence, void, the emptiness of death or grief, the keening of wind whistling through the hollow, the barely glimpsed sliver of light reflecting off the rainfall in the dusk, wane, distant, not enough.

Who is She? I don't know. I cannot describe Her outside of poetry, and poetry cannot do Her justice. She is creativity at the heart of existence, tempered and expressed in culture and art, the resistance and pressure of material forms that force us into relationship and engagement, and the release from those heavy forms afforded by inspiration and the spark of light and insight that lifts us up beyond ourselves, seems to defy even gravity itself. She is my Goddess, my Sun, my Center, my Light, my Starscape, my Tongue, my Draught, my Forge...

Brigid Star Fire, An Imbolc Meditation

I began in a field, a green expanse full of flowers and bright sunlight unrolling on all sides. A figure danced in green and gold rippling, barely distinguishable at first from the wind shifting and dancing through the long grasses — yet as she moved closer, I was able to make her out. Eyes that flashed black and full of stars, a glimpse here and there in her turning and spiraling of a darkness, glinting cold and dark, then slipping, spinning back into green and gold. The mantle she wore spun out around her as she turned and danced, the colors of its threads flung out like sparks from a fire, leaping, or like flower petals of purple crocuses and myriad colored wildflowers — some falling to the ground to spring up as blossoms from scattered seeds, while others fluttered, took flight as a thousand butterflies flirting with the warm breeze.

So unlikely a scene, in the midst of this cold and bitterly long winter, that it took me a moment to adjust, to sink more deeply into the sense of place and allow myself to enter, to engage, the awakened land. The candle on my altar — the golden fire-in-the-water afloat among golden flecks of glitter in the blue bowl, the flame of transformation and forge fire that marked the opened center way — hissed and sparked as it consumed the offering of butter. On either side, the red candle of fire, poetry and inspiration and the blue candle of water, healing and integration burned steadily in their holders. But my eyes were closed, as I sunk deeper into trance. The green, gold meadow grew more intense in my mind's eye as I slipped down into my true center.

What is this dancing? I asked her, running to keep up as she laughed and twirled. What do you have to teach me, Brigid? Is spring here already? It seems so cold still. She seemed to ignore my half-frantic questions, challenging me with her movements to stay on my toes. Suddenly, she flopped down in the grass like a small girl, giggling, laying on her stomach propped up on her elbows, running her fingers through the grasses and flower blossoms. Her gold-flamed auburn hair fell around her face in braids, and the soles of her bare feet were slightly darkened with the dirt of the earth. I looked more closely at where her fingers were playing and dancing through the rich flora of the meadow. She plucked a white-fuzzed sphere of a dandelion and sat up, cross-legged, and held it up between us for me to examine. "Funny," she mused, "How the same flower that can be so golden and bright as the sun — turns to white, soft fluff carried on the wind when it goes to seed...." She took a deep breath and blew, closing her eyes for a moment as if making a wish. The we both watched as the seeds one by one let loose and drifted like snow across the wide field — some snagging in the nearby grasses and trembling there, others carried far and high until they were lost to our sight against the bright sky. "How much they look like tiny stars!" Brigid exclaimed, and she was on her feet again, running and dancing among the flowers. The field seemed suddenly full of dandelions, most of them golden yellow and bristling with sunshine. When Brigid found one ready to seed, a crystal fuzz-ball of intricate webbing in white, she'd flick it with her toe as she danced past, sending the seeds scattering to the wind.

But, I called out, what about my work? What work should I be doing? I have been so tired, it's so hard for me to work up the energy to stick to a discipline. You are the Goddess of the Forge, of the steady and unglamorous work of transformation! Don't you have any advice for me? She laughed with that laugh that always seems to mean, "You just don't get it, darling!" She continued dancing through the green, sun-bathed fields, calling out behind her, "The dandelion is not always sunny. Sometimes it must go to seed to survive, sometimes it must put down deep roots! Not every season is the season of discipline and work! Things change! I am not just a goddess of transformation — I am also the goddess of inspiration!" As if in response to these words, on my altar the red candle sparked and hissed, and its flame danced in its holder. "Now it's time for you to indulge in some joy, my darling!" Brigid announced, catching me up with her hands and swinging me around trying to urge me to dance. "Now is a time for the joy of inspiration — do what brings you joy, find again the playfulness in yourself. Now is not a time for work — I am sick of work — now is the time to play! As the spring comes and the days warm, play and be joyful! These are your duties now, to dance the spring in, to welcome it as it deserves!"

Her words kept coming, urging me to seek again the source of my joy, to sing my soul-song in playful notes, and set aside my worries about obligation and progress. Moved by her words, I joined her dancing, and together we spiraled and swirled and skipped through the grasses, singing and laughing beneath a high, bright sky. After a time, I asked her, Should I — I mean, you are my goddess. Should I take an oath to you, a formal vow? She scoffed kindly at my question. But others in our group have done so — and I have no doubt in my heart that I am devoted to you... Her dance slowed beside me so that she could gaze more deeply into my eyes. "For others," she said, "An oath is like the spiderweb that connects and weaves them together in my service — and it is on those strands that the jewels of transformation, devotion and inspiration collect like dew. But you — you are already too full of duties and responsibilities, shouldering too much of the world as an obligation. No, you do not need to make any more promises to me that you have not already made. What you need to learn.... is a little bit of joy and freedom!" And with that, we were spinning again, dancing. The red candle on the altar sparked and danced along.

And as the trance deepened, as I slipped in and out of the rhythm of the spiraling dance across the meadow, it seemed that suddenly she caught me up in an embrace full of passion and joy, kissing me deep on the mouth — her breath becoming my breath, sweet and warm with the scent of flowers and greenery in springtime. I opened my arms to embrace her, and found I was embracing nothing but breeze and sunlight, as my body shivered, transfused with a sudden warmth tingling in every cell. She had entered into my body, or merged, or blended — I found myself to now be wearing the lush green robe and mantle hemmed with golden knotwork ribbon weaving its patterns along each edge, and as I spun, it rippled out around me in long undulating waves that seemed the very expression of joy and creativity rooted deep within the earth. The dandelion seeds drifted white around me, and soon the field was full of them, wafting as thick as snow but warm and soft. I found the meadow had grown dark and the seeds drifted upwards to mingle with the stars against the darkness of the night sky. I seemed to hear her voice from within — yet from a great distance — "What you need to learn, child, is how to plant the seeds of joy in your heart and nurture them as they crave. What grows of these — leave that to me...."

Then slipping quickly back, the trance came to an end and I was sitting before my altar again, watching the three flames burning steady and silent in the still air. Dipping my finger in the butter again, I consecrated a fourth candle, a large white pillar in a red-and-orange stained glass hurricane jar. This was to be my flamekeeping candle for the coming year, lit and tended every twenty days during my shift. What promises you have from me are already enough, Brigid? I pray this is so, and that I may keep them dear....

The Astrology of Me, New Year Edition

More insight from the stars about the coming year. Jeff says during 2011, Jupiter and Uranus move into my 6th House (Jupiter and Uranus do funky things for everyone this coming year, bringing intense energies with their conjunction, but which house they appear in will depend on each person's individual natal chart). What does this mean? Jeff explains:

Jupiter is kingship, power, will; Uranus is trickster, surprise, sudden collapse, anti-heirarchy.  The two together are like a trickster-king.  So imagine this trickster-king moving into your life in the realm of health, work, daily routine, etc. It could manifest in many different ways.

For Jeff, Jupiter and Uranus will be doing their star-studded dance in his 3rd house, "which is communications and mental activity. It might be a super-big project at work, some new relationship I [Jeff] have to navigate, or something."



He also sent me a link to a fascinating article, in which the author, Dana Gerhardt, discusses the effects of the 6th house in more detail. She writes:

The 6th refers to daily time and how we spend it. Here most of us defer to the cultural norm—which is to do time mechanically. We fill it with productive activity: We work. Most of us have no choice. This could indeed be the “bad fortune” the ancients were talking about! However, most of us would admit that working is not entirely bad. There is something in us that likes a regular structure in our days. Studies have shown that the most depressed individuals are not the ones who have nine-to-five jobs, but the ones who don't—the unemployed, the infirm, the retired—those who have nowhere to go and nothing to do. The ancients said that action-oriented Mars “joys” in this house. Our 6th house likes to be in motion.

Gerhardt goes on to explore how we can cope with and compensate for the heightened energies of the 6th house:

Merriman was suggesting that to balance the 6th, we should look to its opposing house, the 12th. This is the house belonging to the invisible world. It is Neptune’s territory. To keep Mercury’s efficiency in proper measure, we can evoke more Neptune—imagination, spirituality, the unconsciousness of dream. Just as our dreams carry images from our days, we might allow our days to remember images from our dreams.

Jung teaches there are two roots to psychological disease: the gods we forget to honor and the gods we overdo. Too much of Mercury’s “doing” without Neptune’s “floating in the empty spaces” makes "stress" a common 6th house syndrome. When Neptune is forgotten, this uninvited and quietly vengeful guest lies in wait, to throw us under his spell. Driving the freeway home, we suffer brief comas, waking up just minutes before the off-ramp arrives. We forget why we opened the refrigerator or entered the bedroom. Our bodies working like efficient machines, we go numb to the day. When we lose touch with our present, we fall prey to addictions. It's dishonored Neptune who puts the drink, the cigarette, the remote control in our hands.

She continues:

What I discovered was that most people move through the day in the style of their Ascendant. I’ve got Virgo rising, which means I adore planning, making schedules and lists. "An hour for Tibetan prayers, another for reading, then onto my work," I’ll tell myself. But then there are phone calls, emails to answer, the electrician who doesn’t come when he said he would. Aquarius is on my 6th house cusp. Aquarius more accurately describes the unpredictable rhythms that I meet. Despite my best intentions, my Virgo plans usually break down. If the chart describes one’s daily rhythm, its formula goes more like this: The Ascendant shows how you want the day to happen. The 6th describes how it actually does.

My Ascendant is in Libra, and my 6th house edge is in Aries. When I asked Jeff what this might mean for me, he explained that, "This means you want a measured day, balanced energies and all; but what you get is a day full of passion and energy that may sometimes careen out of control." That does sound like me. When I asked him about balancing my 6th house with my 12th, he continued:

You have a Libra 12th, with the Moon in it.  This means that your emotions often come from somewhere you can't identify - they arise and disappear rather mysteriously - but they're not random; they're direct connections with Spirit, which knows more about what's going on than you do.

He says that I tend to follow Gerhardt's advice quite well already. I may begin the day with a plan, but I hold it loosely and if emotionally I feel "called" to some other work, I usually follow that leading and go. Still, this has become an increasing struggle for me lately, and in some ways it's refreshing to have this interpretation of astrological events serving as both an affirmation of the patterns I've been perceiving, and a reminder about how best to handle these greater currents sweeping through my life.



How long can I expect this to go on? Jeff tells me:

Right now they're slowly approaching Aries. They're still in Pisces, but they're close to your 6th house and almost conjunct, so - yes, you should already be feeling the effects.

It's something rather long-term. Jupiter will be in your 6th house for about a year, and Uranus for several years. There will probably be a lot of the energy this year, especially in the spring, and then as Jupiter moves on past Uranus things will settle down.

More specifically:

Jupiter enters your 6th house on Feb 2nd.  Uranus will enter your 6th house right around the middle of April.  ...  Actually, now that I look at the actual dates, it looks like the influence is probably strongest very soon:  Tuesday of next week!  After that, Jupiter moves very fast and leaves Uranus behind, and by May Jupiter is already on to your 7th house.  So...  as far as Jupiter is concerned, not such a long-term thing.

Uranus will stick around for a few years, but its main effect will just be to make your daily schedule unpredictable.  Uranus in the 6th house can indicate major health issues, but usually only in people who have other major problems (like high stress or whatever).

Brigid, Lady of the Stars: The Astrology of Me

Sun Sign (influences one's self-perception and sense of selfhood)

• Gemini (air/mutable) — The sign of the twins, Gemini sun signs tend to be quick, changeable, mercurial in nature. Their curiosity is powerful, and they often seek out those who will stimulate them intellectually while also being able to keep up with their quick wit and sense of the absurd. Because of their ability to detach from themselves and see both sides of the situation, they can often be quite objective in their analysis of a situation. Gemini sun signs tend to be communicative and bright, enjoying the companionship that arises from good conversation and lively debate.
• Sun in the Ninth House — The basic drive when the sun is in the ninth house is for understanding and self-expansion, which can express itself in a concern for global or world affairs, a love of travel, an interest in higher education, and a desire to study religion, philosophy and mysticism.

Moon Sign (influences one's subconscious and emotional center)

• Libra (air/cardinal) — The light, airy quality of a Libran Moon can be refreshing and enjoyable. Libran Moons place a strong value on relationship and partnership, and also carry with them a deep sense of fairness, balance and justice. They also possess an artistic side and high aesthetic standards.
• Moon in the Twelfth House — Moon in the twelfth house indicates a private person with a love of introspection and a compassionate, charitable side, yet someone who sometimes requires withdrawal or retreat from the busyness of the world in order to refresh.

Ascendant (influences first impressions and indicates a starting point)

• Libra (air/cardinal) — Libra Rising gives a first impression of being a natural "people person," someone who is nice, pleasant, fair-minded, charming and well-liked. Aesthetics plays an important role, as does a heightened sensitivity to the arts and music, and this may express itself also in seeking a sense of harmony rather than discord, and civility and respect rather than vulgarity or rudeness.
• Saturn Conjunct Ascendant — Conservative and self-disciplined, someone with Saturn conjunct their ascendant is likely to be reserved and cautious, perhaps due to anxieties about their self-worth (especially earlier in life). The seriousness and maturity of Saturn shines through even at an early age, despite lingering self-doubts, and with deepening maturity may bring a sense of agelessness that has the authority of truth and wisdom behind it.
• Pluto Conjunct Ascendant — Pluto conjunct the Ascendant tends to express itself through a powerful, insightful and intense personality, deeply private and reserved in some ways while also able to grasp some of the deeper secrets of others. The intensity of this conjunction indicates a person willing to go all-out (or all-in) in their commitments and endeavors.

Meditations on Brigid: Goddess of Smithcraft

Like last night's meditation on Brigid as Fire-within-Water, tonight's meditation on Brigid of Smithcraft is, for all intents and purposes, a no-go after an exhausting day. It is becoming increasingly obvious just how much Jeff's kids wear me out, and I may have to consider going back to "escaping" on Saturday mornings just to keep my sanity. In any case, as luck would have it, one of my favorite bloggers happened to post on just this theme today. It seems so perfectly appropriate that I have to wonder if one of the writers of this group blog isn't, in fact, a member of the Lady of the Stars group working through the same rotation of meditation themes as I am. But I'm more than willing to accept this happy coincidence, and share a beautiful quote from White Cat Grove's post, "Lady of the Forge" in lieu of my own meditation for the night:

The Smith is the lady of sheer, hard work. There’s nothing glamorous about it and everything of value in it. The hammer-blows tap out the rhythm of inescapable time. Life is work, time, effort.

We prefer to honor her as the lilt of words, the lure of music, the balm of the healing well, the hearth-fire and its comforts. Mercy, generosity with the ever-giving milk cow, the pale hand that feeds the poor — Brighid as Lady Liberty, welcoming the huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the Lady of the welcoming flame.

Let us remember her too at the moon’s darkness: the coal and its steady, unglamorous burn, the sweat on the brow, the midwife of metal, the shaper of life through effort and boredom and pain.

Meditations on Brigid: Goddess of Healing

Brigid, Goddess of Healing, I trust you completely in hoping you will forgive me for my fatigue tonight and my wish to retire to bed early. For now — what aspect of yourself do you wish to reveal to me for further contemplation and exploration during my dreams and in my waking hours this weekend?

Justice (XI): A symbol of balance, equilibrium and harmony, the scales balanced, the connections interweaving the inner and outer worlds, the conscious with the unconscious, are laid open to be weighed and reckoned. The sword of discernment and honest, objective analysis allows us to see ourselves in the light of truth, revealing our failures and flaws and enabling us to compensate for them, balance them (or perhaps seek forgiveness for them). The patterns of interconnection and choice lead us to this point, this moment of truth, when we see in the full light of day how our past actions have led to our current situation, and how these actions ripple outward to affect others.

Justice rests not in guilt and punishment, but in the true of relationship and balance. In this way, it becomes an expression of healing and harmony, the redress of wrongs to restore right relationship. Truth reveals the patterns of things, and critical analysis and a willingness to see ourselves from others' perspectives open to us the potential to heal old wounds and soften the scars of misunderstanding or poor judgement. Physical health, too, demands a kind of dispassionate justice towards our bodies, treating them with respect and care, seeking a harmonious and balanced relationship with the physical world not solely ruled by our cravings and desires.

Praise to you, Brigid, Goddess of Healing and Harmony, wise sword-bearer, blade sharpened with the breath of your truth and insight, cutting away the bonds of disease and imbalance that restrict and unbalance us. My gratitude for your beautiful, loving presence in my life.

Awen.

Meditations on Brigid: Goddess of Transformation

Brigid, Goddess of Transformation,
please reveal an aspect of yourself to me
that I might come to know you better.

Creation: The Hermit (IX): "His star-lantern marks the path..." The Hermit journeys in solitude and seeking, drawn by the guiding star of intimate connection with Spirit, urged on to deepen his personal relationship with the inner worlds of night and Mystery. The journey is one of loneliness and quiet, ever-new, the path that must be walked alone for each individual as they seek the lost melodies of their soul-song. Within solitude is found the spark of inspiration, the flickering flame of the lantern that leads onwards into the dark depths.

Destruction: Five of Wands: Things fall apart, the center cannot hold, and what began in playfulness soon becomes strife, the myriad obstacles and obstructions piling up until they seem overwhelming. We may feel that nothing is stable, nothing stays, all is chaos in a noisy current threatening to carry us away as we struggle against its pull. Our energy and passion run up against the difficulties of medium and matter, the limits of navigating conflicting currents, the challenge of mastering form through skill and intention. Yet still there is playfulness in this conflict, and an awareness that difficulty can transform us as well, that we are shaped by the challenges we face and the obstacles we overcome.

Transformation: Three of Pentacles: An expression of unity and resolution away from the tension and conflict of before, by engaging the physical world of material forms we learn to work with these forms in ways that deepen our involvement in the process of creativity and transformation. The work is only just beginning and already it has changed us. No longer alone, we work in concert with the pool of materials to shape and craft new forms, including new expressions and articulations of ourselves. Through such work, spirit is expressed in and through matter, and we are uplifted by our immersion in and engagement with the physical, natural world that at first seemed to us so full of chaos and conflict.

Goddess of Transformation, you are a Queen of Culture, that ever-changing flux of collective manifestation in the history of humankind. What begins in the solitude of soul-seeking finds its way back into the relationships of the ordinary world through our commitment to that creative spark of inspiration, your star-lantern guiding us on the path, and our willingness to be destroyed and remade through our embrace of the turning currents and churning chaos of your forge.

My praise and gratitude to you, Exalted Brigid, guardian of the solitary, challenger and uniter.

Awen.

Meditations on Brigid: Creatrix, Goddess of Creativity

Brigid, Bright Creatrix,
Goddess of Creativity,
Source of All,
what message do you have for me?

Death: Not creation from nothing, but the creativity of rebirth and renewal is her nature, the cycles of destruction and creation in the wild, passionate dance of grief and joy, sorrow and love, bound together and unfolding in ever-new forms and ways. The creation of transformation, the embrace of fire that both consumes and transforms, the new is a seed within the old, hatched amidst difficulty and, yes, even fear.

The grief of the ancestors in my blood and bones, the land I walk upon, you are the Ancestor of my ancestors, the source in the stars themselves, the ringing clash of metal, hiss of steam in the darkness and star-pierced night of space. Before there was a land, there was fire and water, there was you, the forger of star-stuff, complexity building upon complexity in the furnace at the heart of the countless suns, and the scattering of star-ash across the galaxies. We arise from your burning self-sacrifice and the joy of your passion and song, your voice like harp strings humming and thrumming in tension between life and death, strung between earth and sky, taut in our hearts, our throats, our hand-weavings as we do our work. All creativity is transformation, the willingness to dance as a partner of death, to carve away and reform, re-imagine. The ember of creation is the last remnant of a slow-dying fire, smoldering warmth and with its last light giving the spark to set going a new blaze.

Praise to you, Source and Nothing, Creator and Death alike, embracing the world with a love that sustains and transforms. My gratitude for your presence in my life, Exalted Brigid.

Awen.

Brigid, Lady of the Star Fire

The Brighid Nebula by Randall Klopping

Meditations on Brigid: Goddess of Poetry

Brigid, Goddess of Poetry,
May you reveal an aspect of yourself to me.

Four of Cups: "There is yet a gift that you are refusing though it is offered to you."

Brigid, Goddess of Poetry, I do not understand. What gifts am I still refusing? What gifts do you offer to me?

Justice (XI): A card of balance, perspective and discernment, the ability to see yourself clearly and understand how your current circumstances arise from your past choices. The humility and lightness of being which, weighed against the feather in the goddess's gentle hands, will not be found wanting. The gift of clarity and perceptive insight, dispassionate knowledge of the interweaving world.

The Wheel of Fortune (X): A card of patterns repeating, the same stories arising, being told again and again, always new, with new lessons to share. The world interweaves as it turns, the same gold thread connecting us all as the fates spin. Here is the gift of perspective, stepping back to see the larger context, and accepting the turning tides of chance and fate with humor and hope, rather than becoming entrenched in guilt or blame.

Two of Cups: A card of unity, the blending and intertwining of opposites, the relationship that brings together in bonds of love and acceptance while also celebrating the joyful tension of difference and duality. This gift of connection and contact is fluid and ever-changing, ever-evolving. Some relationships will blossom and grow, while others will fade away. This card seek the resolution of the gift of the Ace of Cups through the mirror reflection of emotion, intuition, imagination and relationship.

Praise to you, Brigid, Goddess of Poetry. I am not sure I understand what messages you would communicate to me, yet the theme of connection and acceptance in the midst of tension and turning seems clear. I will do my best to accept your gifts, to seek your wisdom.

Brigid, Goddess of Poetry and paradox, of tension resolved into beauty — please help me to be humble, hopeful and receptive.

Awen.

Meditations on Brigid: Lady of the Stars

Exalted Brigid, Lady of the Stars,
I seek to know you better.
Exalted Brigid, Lady of the Stars,
reveal to me an aspect of yourself.

Four of Cups: "I offer you a gift, yet you still refuse, sunk in your own revery, gazing at your own reflection."

What gifts do you offer that I am blindly refusing, Brigid, Lady of the Stars?

Knight of Pentacles: The gift of patience and steady commitment to hard work and unwavering devotion. The Knight rides the great steed of the earth itself, curling and arcing along its course with the ancient power of the deep dragon waking. He is not distracted by the temptations or distractions that abound, but sets his eyes on his goal and settles into the long, loving work of reaching it. He does not move, so much as grow, like a vine, ivy, symbol of perseverance. Though he may seem passive and still, he is unmoving only as the great stars are unmoving, turning above the earth so silently and gracefully that the eye cannot detect their movement. And yet still, they move.

The Moon (XVIII): The gift of hidden depths and unknown mysteries — the wellspring of the unconscious, the pale mirror-light of reflection, dreams and enchantment. The moon rises between the tangled limbs of forest trees, casting misleading shadows, and the symbols, images and dream-leadings of the unconscious arise to unsettle the conscious mind and disrupt carefully planned patterns. A mask itself, the moon reveals all masks and casts them off. This is the gift of the unexpected depths, the mysteries of darkness and night, the space between the stars that reveal themselves in strange fantasies and confusing patterns. Is it productive to wander by moonlight? Will the waking world accept the gifts of dreams, ideals and strange omens calling deeper? These are the wrong questions; the moon beckons us to dance, to indulge in an exploration of our own depths. With this exploration comes the gift of intuition, imagination, receptivity and grace.

The Star (XVII): The gift of hope, renewal and the gentle dance of inner and outer worlds together in harmony and balance. The star guides, and it is with joy, calm and trust that one follows that guiding, glittering light with movements that flow as naturally as the grace-blessed waters of the river and the milky way alike. Just as water flows, hope and inspiration work their own way out, and freedom that springs from within ripples outward to echo in the world all around us and in the lives of others. The star gazes on in tranquility, providing guidance and blessings simply through its nature. This is the gift of following one's own inner star as the path reveals itself before the earnest, trusting seeker's wandering feet. To follow with joy and trust is to open to generosity and gratitude.

My gratitude and praise to you, Brigid, Lady of the Stars, guiding light of my hope and exalted guardian of my trusting soul. May I serve you well, from the unknown depths to the gentle river of the stars unrolling, to the long, slow fecundity of earth that seems to sleep yet ever returns, renewed.

Awen.

Lady of the Stars: A Full Moon Ritual of Invocation and Exploration

Preparation:

As I set up the altar area, my excitement mounted, to the point where I felt almost like a kid again getting ready for bed on Christmas Eve night and wanting desperately to fall asleep quickly so that morning would come sooner. I set up the altar, took some initial photographs and then lit some incense to burn while I did my cleansing and preparatory meditation in another room. I changed into the simple blue dress that I often wear for ritual, replaced my mundane jewelry with the pieces I reserve for ritual and other special occasions; I washed my face and hands with cold water, helping to cool my skin which by that point was warm and flushed with excitement and energy. Then I spent about twenty minutes in meditation, first rehearsing the steps of the ritual in my mind, and then sitting quietly and focusing on my breath, chanting my awen while I centered and grounded, attempting to circulate and integrate the excited energy I was feeling. Eventually, I felt ready to begin the ritual. (By this time, it was about 9 PM.)



Altar and Ritual Area:

I used a small room in our apartment (that we call "the study"), spreading a deep blue blanket out on the floor and using a low, long coffee table draped in a gorgeous blue scarf as an altar. In the center of the altar I placed a small blue bowl sparkling with a layer of gold glitter (which, in retrospect, I probably used far too liberally). To the immediate right of the bowl was the small, gold floating candle I would place in the bowl and light; to the immediate left was the circular blue goldstone pendant I would be consecrating. Behind the bowl I placed the green-and-purple fluorite sphere in its stand, along with the pieces of tumbled goldstone and blue goldstone, and around these the strand of prayer beads I'd recently created to use during my flamekeeping shifts, with the amber-centered sun as its main charm. To the right side of the altar burned a small red candle in a gold-flecked candle holder, in front of which I laid my old athame. To the left side of the altar I placed my small blue pitcher of water, and in front of this my tarot deck in its blue bag. Scattered all over the altar were silver and opalescent flat-sided marbles that, against the blue of the scarf, looked like distant stars glimmering in the flickering candle light.

On the lower shelf beneath the altar, I kept the matches, the ritual bell, the candle snuffer and my iPod hooked up to two small external speakers for easy use during the ritual. I also had my tarot books and a copy of the ritual script in case I needed it. I left the incense burning up on top of the cabinet so that the incense smoke drifted down around me as I sat on the floor in front of the altar.



The Ritual:

The ritual itself went very well. I had no trouble with the memorization and hardly even stumbled, though once or twice I had to pause or speak slowly rather than rush ahead - but that was fine. I had a little trouble at the beginning settling down and working with my energy level; I found myself almost distracted by my anticipation so that it was hard to just sit and do the work of the ritual itself.

During the Statement of Intent, I played Iona's song, "A Million Stars," to help me anchor more firmly in the "mood" as I charged and lit the candle and poured the water in to the bowl. The effect was dazzling, to see the candle light flickering off of all the gold glitter covering the bottom of the bowl, and then slowly lifting and rising as the water swirled - some of the glitter remaining on the bottom, while some floated on the surface, causing this wonderful effect of depth reflecting back the candle light. What I didn't anticipate was the candle drifting towards the place where I poured the water from the pitcher into the bowl, so that once or twice I had to gently bump it with my finger in the opposite direction so that I wouldn't accidentally douse it. The result was getting my fingers covered in glitter, which ended up mostly on my hands and in the lap of my blue dress - not a bad effect. Creating and opening the center way went very well, and after some deep breaths, I moved on to the invocation of the Lady of the Stars and transitioned fairly quickly, after the chant, into meditation.

Once in my meditative trance, however, I had a hard time getting situated - I found myself kind of wandering my inner landscape, beginning first on the shore of the pebbly beach where my last meditation left off. But soon growing restless and unable to focus well, I sought out the forest grove up above far back in the woods away from the cliff that looked out over the ocean. On my way there, I noticed that my body was nude and covered with the glistening bits of gold glitter, not only on my hands but all up and down my limbs, and they shone and sparkled against my pale skin as I walked through the dark woods towards my inner grove. Upon reaching my inner grove, I found a fire already lit at the altar, a fire that resembled the dark amber fiery clouds of [a new star being born]. Above, through the clearing in the trees, I could just glimpse a deep night sky full of stars. At first, I spent some time dancing and turning around the space, rejoicing in how my glitter-studded skin reflected and glimmered in the starlight and firelight... Then, slowly, I noticed that a figure was over by the fire, dark and slightly hunched, attending to the flames. When I drew closer, the figure turned towards me - and showed a frightening clown-mask of white skin with bright red thick-lipped make-up and bared teeth flashing in the firelight, eyes looking slightly maniacal.

I was completely not expecting this, and began to get a little panicked, since I have never encountered such a terrifying figure within my meditation before and it seemed deeply wrong and foreboding to encounter one now, during such an important ritual. Yet every time I tried to come closer to the figure, that was the face that glanced at me over its hunched shoulder. Finally, I declared loudly, "I am not afraid of you!" At which point, the fire on the altar seemed to pulse, sending out a ripple of energy that disintegrated the terrifying clown figure. I was alone in the grove for a little while, until it seemed to me that a figure was descending from the sky - a woman figure, whose hair rippled upward in dark auburn-amber waves like a flame. She was robed in deep blue, so deep it was almost the same color as the night sky itself, and when I could get a glimpse of her face (which for some reason felt difficult to look in to), it seemed pale and utterly peaceful, even as though her eyes were closed. I felt sure that this was the same figure who had appeared to me in my meditation a few days earlier.

The conversation we had was somewhat jumbled and difficult to discern at times. The gist of it, however, was a reminder that fear, too, is sacred and is in many ways very similar to love, an expression of love itself. If we do not love, then we cannot be afraid, and so it is important to listen to our fears as a sign pointing the way to our love. She reminded me of what has always been the guiding inspiration for my poetry (which I have set aside for a long time) - that is, I have always written poetry as a way of facing my fears, hunting my fears through the darkness and seeking them out, trying to render them beautiful. She reminded me that this is what I need to keep doing in my own life. When I objected that surely I must have some better gift to give to the world than to be - as she called it, referring to a name some Native American Indian tribes give to the rabbit - the "fear-caller," she chided me, saying that the world is so utterly full of fear these days, there could be no more sacred a gift than to help transform this fear into something holy and meaningful, to render it beautiful and remind people that fear is an aspect of love.

After a time, our conversation seemed to wander and lose its thread, and I thanked her for her guidance and her advice, though I wasn't sure how to interpret it or act upon it. I asked her what advice or wisdom she had concerning this group, and her response was, "Do not worry so much about it for now. Just follow the leadings you sense, listen to the callings as they come, and don't worry too much about trying to pin things down or define things or control things. Let things happen as they will." Then, as she seemed to fade away and leave me alone in the grove again, the sky above me seemed to clear of some until-then-imperceptible mist or cloud cover, and reveal a sky that seemed so infinite and deep with stars that the stars themselves felt as though they were millions and millions of miles away. The distance felt so overwhelming, and the space between those points of brilliance so vast, that I felt giddy and fearful with a sudden sense of vertigo, as though I might lose my grip on the earth and go drifting off into space. And then I remembered again how fear could be an aspect or sign of love, and thought how close fear was to awe, and awe to love and gratitude, and how this sense of vastness and overwhelming majesty was, too, something that could inspire fear in us.

After the meditation, I took a little bit of time to re-center and then moved on to divination. Below I wrote out the cards I drew, and my interpretations of their meaning...

Finally, I finished the ritual by consecrating the amulet of blue goldstone to this work, blessing it thrice with water from the bowl and then passing it thrice through the flame of the central candle. Afterwards, I spent some time again re-centering, and then conclude the ritual with the final blessing and the unweaving of sacred space.

My feet had fallen asleep, so it took while to stand up after that! I took a few more pictures of the altar with the candles lit, once I had officially ended the ritual.



Divination Results (Tarot Reading):

"Who are you?"

Eight of Pentacles - I am the weaver of webs upon which the dew collects like stars, shining in intimate constellations, fire within water. I am the tension of duality - light and dark, fire and water, being and becoming - tripled in power, the eight spokes of the turning wheel, the four directions echoing above and below. I am the creatrix and the creative force, the worker and the work, the inspiration and spark of transformation that gives rise to new forms and seeks expression through new skills. I am the energy and effort of the creative process; I am the worker enthralled with her craft, seeking ever-new paths to manifestation in the world of physical forms. It is a delicate dance I weave through the world, and each star shivers as fragile and shining as a drop of dew suspended in the darkness and emptiness of space.


"Why have you brought this group together?"

Eight of Cups - To dive deep into the realms of intuition, emotion and mystery, following the glimmer of inspiration that leads to new realms, new insights, new depths of understanding. The old patterns of emotion and relationship once carefully laid out and protected - it is time to abandon these for new adventure, the risk of the night and its darkness, the thrill of the unknown. A star shines in the depths of the sea, fire within water, beckoning as a guiding light, leading more deeply into soul.


"How can we best serve you as a group?"

Queen of Pentacles - Share the riches of your creative selves, cultivating a warm and supportive environment in which others can do the same. Seek relationships of harmony and humility with all the good things of the earth - be humble as humus, "from the earth," rooted in compassion and cheerfulness and the joy of the senses. Dare to be yourselves without harming others; draw strength from the oak, who is nourished both by deep roots anchored in the moist soil and by lofty branches striving towards the warmth and golden light of the sun. The pentacle is, itself, a star crafted of the stuff of the earth. Become craftsfolk of the pentacle, the earthly star, forging creative, compassionate relationships in the world around you.


"How can I best serve you within the group?"

The Sun (XIX) - Seek the joyful acceptance of the child playing in the morning sunlight as it warms the land. Unabashed and completely at ease with who you are, it becomes easier to share your gifts with the world, radiating energy and enthusiasm as naturally as the sun shines, giving warmth and light to others - yet, like the sun, also knowing when to retire to the shadows and allow others to shine. Clarity of vision and purpose, the energy of passion and the eager embrace of inspiration and enlightenment are your gifts to share with others in child-like innocence and wonder at the marvels of the world.

DOTR Lesson 2: Sea

It began with a few tenuous notes turning and echoing out across the waters, the keening of the violin striving against its own tension and yearning. I was there, on the same familiar rocky cliff that curved in around a small bay, the dark waters of the ocean stretching out far beneath me. The murmuring wash of waves among the pebbles of the beach below, rocking in rhythm until the music faded again into silence.

Above me, the stars began to slip out into the night, one by one, as though disrobing from the dark veils of the night sky. One by one, they turned and shot a gasp of brilliance blazing out in a spiny halo of light around them, then pulled back again, glistening and humming with a silent energy. I lifted my head to ask them for their wisdom. It seemed as though one beckoned to me, glimmering more brightly than the rest. The vertigo of a wild night sky thrown open from horizon to horizon swept over me as my gravity seemed to shift — and then before me, solid as stone it seemed, a staircase spiraled upwards into the starscape. Step by step I climbed, my feet steady, my eyes on the scattered specks of light. Each step fell thick and heavy as though on stone draped over with the deep, plush fabric of night and darkness and stillness. As I reached the final stair, the star before me stepped close as a woman, dark and brilliant with features that seemed to shift as she turned, as though I gazed into her eyes from across countless light years. She smiled, and lifted her hand to caress my cheek and temple.

Then all at once, her other hand was at my throat, grasping my jaw firmly. With one quick motion she wrenched my face away, palm hard against my forehead, and I felt my spine snap as my body crumpled beneath her hard, cold fingers.

My body tumbled as it fell from the sky, loose and undone. I felt almost relaxed, my body buffeted and slowed by the wind, as though some tension in me had snapped and let me drop. I fell like a limp dead thing, which is what I was, and when I hit the ocean's surface, it gave way with almost as little resistance as the air, opening its dark mouth in a crater-like wave that closed over me again as I sank down beneath the waters.

Down and down I sank, making no attempt to swim or even draw a breath. My body became as heavy and dark as the oceans themselves, and creatures glided past me in the dark glistening a wet gold, slipping in and out of sight almost like stars. It seemed to me that all this time, I could see the stars shining above me, above the surface of the water, though only dimly — so dim that perhaps it was no more than a memory. My body lay on the rough bottom of the sea for a long while, its limbs swayed only by the slow, sluggish motions of the currents. I do not remember making the decision to move again — and maybe it was only the ocean itself that gradually pushed and pulled and turned me towards the shore — but eventually I found myself on hands and knees, stumbling and crawling up the pebbled beach, waves dragging at me as I gasped and sought for a hold.

Exhausted, I could not go far, but sat just above the highest reach of the waves where they ran themselves out between the wet, rounded stones. I sat for a while, catching my breath as it returned and letting the ocean water drip from me until I found I was quite dry, though chilled beneath the night sky once more. Then down the beach came the white hound, old companion of this place, bounding with joyful greeting towards me. I flung my arms around her in an embrace and buried my face and hands in her warm, dog-scented fur. Life, with that warmth and panting breath and bounding joy, began to return to me and I felt happy and grateful to have found her again after so long an absence.

Yet, in the midst of our joyous reunion, she stopped — and a low growl began to build in her throat. At first, I thought she was growling at me, and a moment of panic at another betrayal swept through me. But then I realized she was looking past me, towards a figure that loomed up out of the dark some ways down the beach. I turned and ventured closer — the dark figure outlined against the sky seemed huge and thin, featureless as worn stone, and I soon realized it was not a person, but a statue: a thin, lank, faceless man standing on a dais, like an oscar carved from rock and weathered by the sea and wind. I turned to reassure the white hound by my side, who glanced up at me with a look of that showed a clear dislike for the figure — then the dog squatted and pissed on the dais and trotted off up the beach again as though her sentiments had been made clear. I followed her back to where we had been, and sat down once more on the pebbly shore, the dog curled up on my left while my hand ran over her long, white fur in gentle strokes.

Then there was the dark star goddess beside me again, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, feet bare against the wet rocks, the hem of her deep blue robes clinging with damp to the stone. I was not afraid, but comforted as she drew my head down to rest on her shoulder and she stroked my cheek again just as I stroked the dog's warm fur. Though she did not say a word to me, I came to understand the killing blow she'd dealt me was not a violence or punishment, but her gift to me: a change in perspective that sent me plummeting into the depths. Too many are striving towards the stars, climbing those steep ladders and struggling with all their might towards the heights to catch a glimpse of something marvelous.

She turned a little so that we could look one another in the eye. Sitting there on the beach, she was barely taller than I was, her face shifting in and out of shadow, her eyes shining, her hair seeming sometimes wet and dark as to be almost black in long, flowing locks, and sometimes like a liquid fire, deep amber and auburn, strands curling and licking along the pale, perfect skin of her face and shoulders like tongues of flame. Leaning forward, she pressed her little lips against my forehead in a lingering kiss. I felt the warmth of that kiss seep into the depths of me, blossoming and opening outwards from within. The sky above me seemed expansive and infinite in the darkness. The ocean spread like a black, rippling plain of reflected starlight so vast and great and deep that it stole all breath from my body. The stone and earth below me shuddered with solidity and power, hard and warm and heavy like a great weight on which I walked like some delicate, fragile thing. The three realms loomed in majesty, surrounding me in glory where I sat stunned in awe on the threshold, that liminal space where land and sea meet sky. I was so utterly small — and yet, a witness to this greatness, I held all this in the intimacy of my own body, concentrated and unfurling through the three realms, the elements of my being a microcosm of this larger world.

The goddess of starlight and transformation leaned away from me, a small, slight figure full of power and primordial energy churning in the dark. This is it, she seemed to say, this is what you are here for. To be the witness to the wild, overwhelming wonder of the world — to be small and simple beneath the sky, to drift light and buoyant upon the sea, to dance fragile and always half-rootless across the land. No other view is better than this one right here, no other view is meant for you. You cannot become big by strife and struggle. You can only participate in the vastness of creation, you can only join in relationship with the greatness of the world, by staying here to attend to your place in it with openness and gratitude. You are not in service to your self alone; you are in the service of greater things than you.

The kiss lingered still, flooding my senses with the slow opening of light and energy and song. I felt as though I were slipping into deeper trance... yet soon I found myself opening my eyes, the meditation over, the mundane room around me and the candle flickering in its holder, amber-rose in the bright sunlight thrown in slanted rays across the coffee table. Still, the energy flowed through me, and the vision remained.

A Reading of Day and Night

"Bright Brigid of the Day, of the Sun and Flame and turning golden cross,
Dark Brigid of the Night, of the Stars, Deep Waters and Forge Fire,
Blessed Brigid of the Threshold, of the space-between, relationship and connection,
what wisdom do you have to share with me for the benefit of this group?"

Day: The Hanged Man (XII) — A card of new perspective, surrender and self-sacrifice. A subtle shift in the light reveals new visions of the world both within and without. A card of introspection, confronting the sun-and-shadow alike in our lives, giving ourselves willingly to our griefs and sorrows, finding in the shadow the dark heart of the flame - and through this sacrifice of our old worldview, a new life begins, a new dawn, a new day.

Night: The Moon (XVIII) — A card of dream and mystery in the moonlight, the deep waters of the unconscious welling up from within, drawn by the tides of the moon and the night sky. Strong emotions erupt unexpectedly in response to that inner gravity, and we find ourselves face to face with both senseless fears and tantalizing desires, confused by projections and enticed by half-glimpsed shadows that may lead us more deeply into an engagement with the dark mysteries of the unknown.

Threshold: Four of Cups — A card of warning against settling too deeply into self-absorption and introspection, becoming entrenched in emotional patterns of imaginary worries or boredom. A great opportunity for growth and engagement presents itself, possibilities for connection and exploration are offered as gifts for the taking, if we are open enough to receive them. We pause on the threshold, for the price of connection is receptivity and a willingness to reevaluate our lives. Are we ready to accept the gifts being offered to us?