Jeff is on his way home from the airport (he should be home any minute!), and I find myself too excited to settle down to read or do anything even remotely productive. Plus, it's gorgeous and sunny outside, and FF&C's last episode of the season is up. So in general, I am a very happy Ali.
Yesterday, I attended a two-hour workshop put on by the OBOD seed-group in the area, the Circle of Coll. It was a very small group, just the workshop leader, M., one other member, R., and me (several other who'd been planning on attending had to cancel at the last minute). The workshop was a variation of the one M. presented at Pantheacon this past year, along the theme of "unity in diversity." It focused on crafting sacred poetry to be used in ritual context, and explored how poetry might be used in a non-tradition-specific way.
The discussion during the first part of the workshop was fascinating, as I got to learn a little bit more about how this particular group approaches ritual and the discussions that go on within the group. It was great to be able to have a conversation with other Druids in person in this way, though I think my enthusiasm made me a bit inarticulate and bubbly when I tried to share some of my own thoughts. One thing that was interesting was how clearly M.'s approach to ritual as a general structure is shaped by Isaac Bonewits' approach — I felt a bit awkward in following along to some of the conclusions he reached about just how "universal" this basic structure was, based on my own research working on my thesis. But it's been years since I was immersed in that research in any case, and that's a more complicated discussion for another time.
What struck me most about the workshop was just how differently M.'s approach was to what he called sacred poetry (i.e. poetry to be used in a ritual context) compared to, for lack of a better word, "secular" poetry. I'm not sure I agree with this distinction, but let's go with it for now and consider what he said. His most striking claim about sacred poetry was that it was deliberately designed to transcend itself. This flies in the face of how I usually think of poetry and other forms of art more generally, which to me are most successful when they are most whole, when they do not seek to point outside of themselves to something external but instead embody fully what they are.This is according to some philosophies of aesthetics, I think, the difference between a sign (which points at something external to itself) and a symbol (which embodies something which it both is and is not). To me, the symbol is the more powerful and potent of the two. So I'm not sure how I feel about treating sacred poetry as sign rather than symbol, and to make the goal of writing such poems to be explicitly transcendent. (And I don't think I agree with M. when he says that a "secular" poem that manages to express something sacred is an accidental miracle. To me, that is simply the mark of a truly great poem, or any other work of art.)
The approach to writing sacred poetry for a ritual context does not seem to me to be all that different from writing poetry in general. I liked his emphasis on two key aspects: synchronicity, and constraint. The poetic form, even in free verse, is a masterpiece of constraint, even just in the concrete, concise language and the use of metaphor and juxtaposition. And synchronicity plays a big part in the process of crafting a poem and the choice of juxtaposition and metaphor, even for folks who don't sit with a Tarot deck or ogham on hand. I've always found that observations of the natural world will play off of my own mental or emotional state in a way that allows for surprising synchronicities.
On the other hand, I don't exactly agree with the impression M. left that in order for sacred poetry to be truly transcendent, you should avoid revision. The idea of "getting yourself out of the way" and using techniques to help loosen up your creativity and your willingness to make leaps and take risks in your work — that's all very helpful, but I don't think poetry (unless you're very lucky and "in the groove") can stop at that stage in the process, even sacred poetry. Sacred poetry, as part of embodied ritual, is bound to be just as much a kind of self-expression, since the purpose of ritual is to bring us into the greater patterns and allow us to embody those sacred patterns within our lives. You could argue that ritual is quintessentially about self-expression, and if rituals can be practiced and polished and their forms refined over time, then I don't see why sacred poetry to be used in ritual shouldn't also be revised and refined.
That said, learning to more freely enter a state of mind (and spirit) that allows for inspired automatic writing (even if it is not always polished) is definitely a good skill to cultivate, and one that I probably can benefit from working on, especially since I tend to be a perfectionist and move at a painstaking pace when I write. (I do find it easier to get into the swing of things when I'm typing and when I'm writing in poetic prose, though.) M. is obviously very skilled at this, since his piece that he shared at the end of the workshop (after we'd each had half an hour to craft a poem to be used in a culminating ritual at the end) was very good and very effective. I took quite a while, and I don't know if mine was all that good, at least at what it was meant for (raising power at the peak of the ritual).
I've included the poem I wrote below. We were each assigned one of the three sections of the ritual, which we'd decided would be about welcoming prosperity and success into our lives. The task was to draw a tarot card and use it as inspiration for the poem, and to use some kind of structure or form as a constraint to help us "get out of our own way" and step aside from our own voice. The card I drew (from a random deck I selected) had an image thick with ferns, which immediately put me in mind of a fern growing from tiny, invisible spore into tender fiddlehead and then unfolding completely as full-grown plant. The number of the card was 2, so I decided to go for rhyming couplets in the structure where the last word of the previous line repeats at the beginning of the following line. Here's what I wrote:
Rooted in the lush earth, we feel ourselves secure
Secure in our potential, small hopeful seed
Seed of our skill, knowledge and power, responding to the sun's touch
Touch of rain, warmth of earth, nurturing our need
Our need opens us to new possibilities,
Possibilities call us beyond ourselves, open to the new
New in strength, we feel the power of sky and earth,
Earth and sky lend power to the work we do.
Dew of morning on green leaves unfurling
Unfurling into mid-day's energy
Engery we need for our success surrounds us
Surrounds us as the earth's fecundity
Fecundity of field and forest through season's turning
Turning seed to sprout to blossom, then to fruit
Fruit ripens now, we celebrate our harvest
Harvest and prosperity take root
Rooted in the lush earth, we build the power to its peak
Peak of power, by land, sky and sea
We welcome in prosperity, so may it be.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Brighid and Poetry
A post I made on TC in the Cauldron Cill SIG, where folks were discussing Brighid's connections to poetry in response to this quote:
I couldn't figure out what to quote from your post, Aster, because all of it seems to relate really well to what I was going to write!
I've been thinking a lot about Brighid's triple character. (Cosmological tangent: So, for me, Brighid has different... levels (eh, I don't like that word but it's the best I can do right now). At one level, she embodies a kind of polarity or duality, fire and water, light and dark intermingling. At another level, she has this triple aspect or character, that for me is related somewhat to the three Druidic elements (nwyfre, gwyar and calas, which I think of as force, flow and form) and the three realms (land, sea, sky). These aspects find expression in the "ten thousand things" of the natural world, human culture and experience, etc., but they also lead back to or are a part of an original Mystery of creativity or unity as well, giving her a kind of primordial/cosmic nature. Sorry if this doesn't make any sense... I'm only just beginning to articulate it.) So - where was I? Oh yeah! In thinking about Brighid's triple character, I see poetry, healing and smithcraft as kind of metaphors or symbols of three broader aspects: inspiration, integration and transformation.
For me, poetry is a symbol of inspiration. Inspiration is like the sudden spark of insight or vision, the in-breath of spirit or deity into our lives. It can be completely disruptive and transgressive, coming in and tearing down our assumptions about how the world works and how things fit together. I think the best poems are the ones that juxtapose radically different ideas or images, that play with the sound and meanings of words in ways that allow us to see and hear them in completely new ways. In modern poetry (in a literate society like ours), another defining feature of a poem is often its structure or format on the page - it's set off in verses and stanzas, so that the white, empty space of the page makes a kind of frame around it and sets it off as something special, not just ordinary prose. Oral performances of poetry are a kind of performance art themselves, in which the voice of the poet weaves a vision out of surrounding silence for those who are listening. This is like inspiration - it can come unexpectedly out of an empty sky!
So when I think about Brighid's aspect as patron of poetry, I think of it in this broader sense - whatever is inspiring and allows us to see things in radically new ways. Music, art, storytelling, education and learning all fall under that aspect to a certain extent.
But I also see inspiration - because it is something radically different, something that can seem to come from "outside" ourselves - as being part of a process, and integration and transformation are the two other aspects of that process. With the in-breath of divine inspiration, we're left with a rift in our old worldview that requires us to seek healing (even if only metaphorically), so that we can establish a new sense of wholeness or completeness that now includes the insight or vision we've gained from inspiration. When we find that new wholeness or integration for ourselves, we can then bring that vision out into the world around us - we become active participants in transformation, changing and shaping others. When we do this, though, we are actually creating new opportunities for inspiration - we bring something new and unique to others that might become a spark for them, and we also will face new challenges that will be new sources of inspiration for ourselves, so there's a cycle or process there that feeds itself.
Inspiration that isn't followed by healing and integration, on the other hand, can lead to madness. I think that's why there's such a strong link between poetry and madness in Celtic mythology, with divinely inspired poets and seers being driven mad and fleeing society to live in the wilderness among the wild beasts. It's almost as though the vision and insight of divine inspiration breaks open the ordinary human mind.... and maybe spending time in solitude out in the wilds is actually one way of coping with the necessary process of healing and becoming whole again (especially if you're seeking a wholeness which remains open and doesn't require you to shut back down, which I think sometimes living in "civilized society" with its laws and restrictions and social boundaries can cause people to do).
Anyway, so that's my rambling. :) I don't know if it was helpful or not... I tend to think that anything that helps us break open our expectations of the world and inspire new insights into how things are and how we fit into it all is an expression of Brighid's "poetic" side. :)
I'm with Juni in interpreting the concept of poetry to include all learning, education, wisdom, and arts. From what we know about the ancient Celts, poetry was mostly the domain of the druids, and so much of their learning and teaching was wrapped up in poetry.
So, for me, when I think about poetry in the context of Brighid, I think of learning, education, and wisdom, as well as written poems and other kinds of creative writing. And even performing arts. (Dance = "poetry in motion")
I tend to take a broad view like this of all of Brighid's traditional associations. Healing is so much more than curing an individual's physical illness or injury. Smithcraft can encompass many kinds of shaping, creating, joining together, etc. That's how I arrived at the idea of Brighid as a "patron" of social justice and advocacy. Advocates look at the parts of society that are broken and work to fix them through joining with other groups, forming coalitions, and developing better policies and laws. That process includes -- in a metaphorical sense -- healing (fixing society problems), smithcraft (building coalitions and creating policy), and poetry (learning about problems, educating the public and policy-makers about issues and solutions, crafting legislation and supporting material).
I couldn't figure out what to quote from your post, Aster, because all of it seems to relate really well to what I was going to write!
I've been thinking a lot about Brighid's triple character. (Cosmological tangent: So, for me, Brighid has different... levels (eh, I don't like that word but it's the best I can do right now). At one level, she embodies a kind of polarity or duality, fire and water, light and dark intermingling. At another level, she has this triple aspect or character, that for me is related somewhat to the three Druidic elements (nwyfre, gwyar and calas, which I think of as force, flow and form) and the three realms (land, sea, sky). These aspects find expression in the "ten thousand things" of the natural world, human culture and experience, etc., but they also lead back to or are a part of an original Mystery of creativity or unity as well, giving her a kind of primordial/cosmic nature. Sorry if this doesn't make any sense... I'm only just beginning to articulate it.) So - where was I? Oh yeah! In thinking about Brighid's triple character, I see poetry, healing and smithcraft as kind of metaphors or symbols of three broader aspects: inspiration, integration and transformation.
For me, poetry is a symbol of inspiration. Inspiration is like the sudden spark of insight or vision, the in-breath of spirit or deity into our lives. It can be completely disruptive and transgressive, coming in and tearing down our assumptions about how the world works and how things fit together. I think the best poems are the ones that juxtapose radically different ideas or images, that play with the sound and meanings of words in ways that allow us to see and hear them in completely new ways. In modern poetry (in a literate society like ours), another defining feature of a poem is often its structure or format on the page - it's set off in verses and stanzas, so that the white, empty space of the page makes a kind of frame around it and sets it off as something special, not just ordinary prose. Oral performances of poetry are a kind of performance art themselves, in which the voice of the poet weaves a vision out of surrounding silence for those who are listening. This is like inspiration - it can come unexpectedly out of an empty sky!
So when I think about Brighid's aspect as patron of poetry, I think of it in this broader sense - whatever is inspiring and allows us to see things in radically new ways. Music, art, storytelling, education and learning all fall under that aspect to a certain extent.
But I also see inspiration - because it is something radically different, something that can seem to come from "outside" ourselves - as being part of a process, and integration and transformation are the two other aspects of that process. With the in-breath of divine inspiration, we're left with a rift in our old worldview that requires us to seek healing (even if only metaphorically), so that we can establish a new sense of wholeness or completeness that now includes the insight or vision we've gained from inspiration. When we find that new wholeness or integration for ourselves, we can then bring that vision out into the world around us - we become active participants in transformation, changing and shaping others. When we do this, though, we are actually creating new opportunities for inspiration - we bring something new and unique to others that might become a spark for them, and we also will face new challenges that will be new sources of inspiration for ourselves, so there's a cycle or process there that feeds itself.
Inspiration that isn't followed by healing and integration, on the other hand, can lead to madness. I think that's why there's such a strong link between poetry and madness in Celtic mythology, with divinely inspired poets and seers being driven mad and fleeing society to live in the wilderness among the wild beasts. It's almost as though the vision and insight of divine inspiration breaks open the ordinary human mind.... and maybe spending time in solitude out in the wilds is actually one way of coping with the necessary process of healing and becoming whole again (especially if you're seeking a wholeness which remains open and doesn't require you to shut back down, which I think sometimes living in "civilized society" with its laws and restrictions and social boundaries can cause people to do).
Anyway, so that's my rambling. :) I don't know if it was helpful or not... I tend to think that anything that helps us break open our expectations of the world and inspire new insights into how things are and how we fit into it all is an expression of Brighid's "poetic" side. :)
Monday, July 11, 2011
A Druid in Modern Society
Something I wrote for The Cauldron's Neo-Druidry SIG that I thought I would post here — my response to the following questions:
Great questions! Hmm, trying to decide which one to start with....
Okay, what do I mean when I use the term Druid for myself? I mean that I am a practitioner of Druidry, a spiritual tradition that is represented by several modern groups and organizations (but definitely not reducible to any one of them), such as OBOD, AODA, ADF, TDN, DOTR, etc. I feel pretty comfortable using the term "Druid" for myself for two reasons. (1) Because I mean it in the same way I would call myself a "Christian" if I were practicing Christianity - I see Druidry as a religion, and it's just easiest to identify myself as a member of that religious tradition by using the term. Since it's pretty well acknowledged that we can't recreate ancient Celtic society, I don't worry about anyone mistaking me for a "real Druid" in that sense.
(2) The idea that ancient Druids were similar to a "priest/philosopher caste" in Celtic society and underwent 20+ years of training.... qualifies me as a Druid, damn it. ;) I've spent most of my life studying philosophy and religion through formal education, I have a degree in comparative religious studies ("priest") and have earned distinguished honors for my work in creative writing ("bard") and political philosophy ("adviser to kings"), along with experience as a political activist and vocal pacifist ("peacemaker"). I guess this is partly answering that first question, too - what does it mean to be a Druid in modern society. True, I didn't spend all those years self-identifying as a Druid... But what it means for me personally to think of myself as a Druid is striving to embody that role of the politically- and socially-engaged peacemaker whose community work is informed by an insight into aesthetics and poetry as well as the intellectual discipline and knowledge of the scholar or philosopher, and who brings to all of that work a deep sense of spiritual grounding and reverence for the gods and the sacredness of the earth.
Why I identify myself as a Druid and not a CR/Recon person (besides what others have mentioned about the lack of scholarly info and the practicality issue) is because the archetype of the Druid seems to place more emphasis on the synthesis and integration of all these different aspects into a deep and challenging path, whereas CR strikes me a bit more like a "folk religion," so to speak, where these roles are all still seen as separate specialties (if you know what I mean... not sure I'm really getting across my idea very well there). I actually started out exploring Paganism through the Wicca/Witchcraft lens (and every once in a while get an urge to explore Feri Witchcraft a bit more)... but it never really fit me, I didn't feel that sense of "homecoming" that I've heard a lot of others describe. Though I do believe in magic, I tend to understand it much more from an aesthetic/philosophical point of view. What really struck me was when I read an essay in an anthology about Druidry where the writer talked about the Witch archetype as that person living as a kind of outcast (a hag or whore) on the edge of town, whereas the Druid was deeply engaged in the heart of community working along with others and counseling them as an accepted and wise person. I resonated much more with the Druid archetype and the role of community and engagement than with the Witch archetype. :)
So.... is that too much?
What does it mean to be a Druid in modern society? What do you mean when you use the term Druid for yourself? Why are you a Druid instead of, say, a witch or a Celtic Recon? Conversely, do you find your Druidry informing any other spiritual path you walk?
Basically, this is the place to talk in lengthy detail about your Druidry!
Great questions! Hmm, trying to decide which one to start with....
Okay, what do I mean when I use the term Druid for myself? I mean that I am a practitioner of Druidry, a spiritual tradition that is represented by several modern groups and organizations (but definitely not reducible to any one of them), such as OBOD, AODA, ADF, TDN, DOTR, etc. I feel pretty comfortable using the term "Druid" for myself for two reasons. (1) Because I mean it in the same way I would call myself a "Christian" if I were practicing Christianity - I see Druidry as a religion, and it's just easiest to identify myself as a member of that religious tradition by using the term. Since it's pretty well acknowledged that we can't recreate ancient Celtic society, I don't worry about anyone mistaking me for a "real Druid" in that sense.
(2) The idea that ancient Druids were similar to a "priest/philosopher caste" in Celtic society and underwent 20+ years of training.... qualifies me as a Druid, damn it. ;) I've spent most of my life studying philosophy and religion through formal education, I have a degree in comparative religious studies ("priest") and have earned distinguished honors for my work in creative writing ("bard") and political philosophy ("adviser to kings"), along with experience as a political activist and vocal pacifist ("peacemaker"). I guess this is partly answering that first question, too - what does it mean to be a Druid in modern society. True, I didn't spend all those years self-identifying as a Druid... But what it means for me personally to think of myself as a Druid is striving to embody that role of the politically- and socially-engaged peacemaker whose community work is informed by an insight into aesthetics and poetry as well as the intellectual discipline and knowledge of the scholar or philosopher, and who brings to all of that work a deep sense of spiritual grounding and reverence for the gods and the sacredness of the earth.
Why I identify myself as a Druid and not a CR/Recon person (besides what others have mentioned about the lack of scholarly info and the practicality issue) is because the archetype of the Druid seems to place more emphasis on the synthesis and integration of all these different aspects into a deep and challenging path, whereas CR strikes me a bit more like a "folk religion," so to speak, where these roles are all still seen as separate specialties (if you know what I mean... not sure I'm really getting across my idea very well there). I actually started out exploring Paganism through the Wicca/Witchcraft lens (and every once in a while get an urge to explore Feri Witchcraft a bit more)... but it never really fit me, I didn't feel that sense of "homecoming" that I've heard a lot of others describe. Though I do believe in magic, I tend to understand it much more from an aesthetic/philosophical point of view. What really struck me was when I read an essay in an anthology about Druidry where the writer talked about the Witch archetype as that person living as a kind of outcast (a hag or whore) on the edge of town, whereas the Druid was deeply engaged in the heart of community working along with others and counseling them as an accepted and wise person. I resonated much more with the Druid archetype and the role of community and engagement than with the Witch archetype. :)
So.... is that too much?
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Savanah's Year: Nwyfre of Earth, Calas and Gwyar of Water
I thought my neglect of keeping notes on our lessons with Savanah was bad back in January, and it's been months since I last updated about our progress! Granted, partly that's because we haven't been able to have regular lessons with her for some of these weeks because of scheduling, work conferences, kids' recitals and so on. But for the past two weeks (last Sunday and today) we've been able to get back into it.
Our final week of Gwyar of Earth work, we focused on the seasonal cycle of the year and the relationship between the sun and the earth in creating the seasons. We spent quite a bit of time talking about the difference between the Fire Festivals and the Solar Festivals and how they embody different ways of relating to the sun, as well as comparing these holy days to the Wiccan sabbats and exploring the differences and similarities. We talked about the cycle of the seasons as a metaphor for birth, growth, maturity, death and rebirth both in the human life cycle and also in how we approach our goals and dreams, taking time to plan and prepare for each stage and doing work that reflects the needs and energies of that stage. For her journal, we asked her to label a diagram of the wheel of the year with the different holidays and write a little blurb about each of them. We also had her pick out two more objects for her altar: one representing the sun itself, and one representing the current season. (To be honest, it was so long ago that I can't remember which objects she chose. I do remember being very impressed by the intuitive nature of the object she chose for the sun, but can't for the life of me remember what it was.) For that week's activity, we asked her to do a creative project to symbolize the wheel of the year and the cycle of the seasons. She used a new Christmas gift to make a woven bracelet with different colored beads representing the four seasons.
During February, we moved on to Nwyfre of Earth and introduced Savanah to the basic practices of breath meditation, centering and grounding. We began by learning about the physical breath and how it connects us to the world around us in the most intimate and immediate way. We began to connect the idea of the physical breath with the sense of life-force and spirit expressed through the elemental principle of nwyfre, and discussed how the way we breathe (fast or slow, heavy or shallow, etc.) can give us insight into how we are feeling, and help us to calm down and feel better when we're feeling upset. We asked her to journal answers to some simple questions about the relationship between breath and self-awareness (the directed questions that provide a review of our conversations during the lesson are turning out to work really well), and for her activity we taught her the simple breath meditation of bringing focus to the physical sensations of your own breathing (as a first step towards more complex practices). The following week, we moved on to the practice of centering. We discussed the idea of our "spiritual center" as similar to your "center of balance" and talked about different techniques to use to help find your center, that "still place of peace" between breaths. Her activity for the week was to practice the centering meditation and answer some questions in her journal about what the practice was like, how it helped her or what made it seem difficult, etc. The following week, we moved on to grounding, with a brief meditation I wrote using a stone from her altar (as well as some Awen chanting — I feel a bit bad because we didn't take much time to actually talk about Awen itself, since she was already familiar with it from participating in Druid rituals in the past). We discussed how grounding provides us with a connection to both the realm of the gods and the "underworld" realm below us, like a try reaching our limbs into the sky seeking sunlight as well as reaching our roots down into the earth to find stability and nourishment. We talked about the idea of energy exchange, and how grounding can help us release anxiety or anger that is hindering or hurting us, as well as draw energy and support from the earth when we are feeling weak or tired. The grounding exercise was her activity for the week, with some more questions for journaling about the experience and how she felt about it.
Throughout March and April, for the most part we took a break from lessons. The stellium in Aries meant both Jeff and I were kind of going nuts with energy, and work and other commitments dominated our time so that weekends left us pretty wiped. We did have a chance towards the beginning to get into the next month of work, Calas of Water, which was dedicated to learning about communication, connection and emotion in different practices and beliefs of Druidry, specifically through the forms and structures of storytelling, mythology, poetry and music. The first week, we talked about ancient myths and fairytales and how they were used to pass on important ideas and information about the people and the land. We talked a little bit about how stories don't just give us information, but actually give us insight into a whole perspective or worldview. To demonstrate this, we asked Savanah for her weekly activity to choose a myth or fairytale she knew and rewrite it from the point of view of one of the minor characters. The next week, we didn't have time for a full lesson, but we did go over her work — her story was excellent, a retelling of the story about the boy who has to face a giant (I forget the name of it) told from the point of view of the bird he caught. Very creatively done!
Last week, we finally got back on track and combined the last two weeks of Calas of Water work to talk about poetry and music together. This worked out well and tied back into the work on mythology that we'd done previously (so it provided a good refresher) — we told the story of Amergin and the Milesians coming to Ireland and winning the land from the Tuatha de, and read her a (translated) version of the Song of Amergin where he sings to the land to praise and honor her. This provided an excellent example of the blurred lines between myth, poetry and music, and we talked about using "concrete sensory details" in power to give our language power and to evoke feelings and ideas without explaining them in the abstract. We then played her the song, "I Am," by the group Beltaine's Fire, which is a song both praising poetry and rhyme as tools for learning and memory, and also drawing on and re-imagines the Song of Amergin, providing another connection. I spent a lot of time talking about how the vibration of music in our bodies — especially when we sing together or dance to and play music — connects us in a very physical, literal way, making our bodies vibrate in harmony. (This idea seemed to impress Savanah quite a bit, because she asked me if I had memorized my "speech" or just knew it off the top of my head!)
This week we moved ahead into Gwyar of Water and our exploration of dreams, divination and visualization meditations as ways that we can communicate and connect with our subconscious mind, the gods, ancestors and spirits of the land. We'd asked Savanah to keep a dream journal for the past week, so we spent some time going over the dreams she remembered and what they might mean, how they made her feel, etc. We talked about dream interpretation more generally and how the subconscious mind often uses symbols, images and emotions to communicate indirectly, instead of spelling everything out for us logically and rationally. We talked a bit about how dreaming helps us to integrate our waking experiences more deeply into who we are (like water churned up by activity slowly settling and becoming clear again during a period of rest), and that's why we might have dreams about activities that are either new to us or dominated the time we were awake on a particular day.
We also discussed divination techniques and how they worked, using very similar images and symbolic associations as dreams do. (This was originally going to be week two for this month's lessons, but we won't be seeing them next weekend and we're still trying to play catch up, so in order to give her enough work to do during that extra week we decided to introduce the idea of divination now and continue to expand on it when we see her again). Savanah is still struggling to believe that she is capable of doing the work we ask her to do, and will panic (or exaggerate her anxiety) whenever we suggest something that might be a challenge — to overcome this during this lesson, I asked her to try to think of five different divination techniques that she knew of just from reading books and seeing movies and talking to people. Sure enough, she was quickly and easily able to list off five: tarot, runes, palm reading, tea leaves and crystal balls. We talked about how each of these techniques worked, what you did, and why that approach was able to put you in touch with your nonrational/subconscious mind (or the gods — I think when we return to this subject, we'll focus more on how the gods come into it). We also talked about the larger categories that these specific divination techniques fell into and what other types would be included (for instance, looking for shapes in clouds, entrails or even ugly wallpaper is similar to tea leaf reading; gazing into water or a black mirror or even a thumb nail is similar to using a crystal ball, ogham is similar to using runes, etc.).
For her activities for the next two weeks, we've made recordings of the centering/grounding exercise from the Nwyfre of Earth lessons for her to listen to, so that she can practice these meditation techniques each morning. Jeff also gave her a longer relaxation/visualization guided meditation to do next week before she goes to bed in the evening, to get her used to the technique of visualizing before we move on to the third week of this month's lesson. In addition, we've asked her to do three tarot readings using her tarot deck (asking whatever questions she wants and coming up with her interpretations of the cards before looking in the book for their "official" meanings). And lastly, we've asked her to keep on recording her dreams in her journal as well, and to answer a few journaling questions next week on any kinds of patterns that she notices about her dreams.
So the work is going well, really. Every time I go back over the general outline, I'm excited by how much cool stuff we're going to cover over the coming months. I also worry a little bit that it won't all sink in (for instance, discussions we have months ago about using grounding to help siphon off nervous energy are obviously not helping Savanah very much in controlling her panic at times!)… and I wonder if we're trying to do too much too fast. But I think in general it's important to give an overview so that she has some sense of how it all fits together and can go back and explore more in-depth on her own if she chooses to. Since it really is all connected and intertwined, any little bit that "sticks" can eventually lead her back to the rest… and since Jeff and I are pretty well-versed and deep in our practice, there are some lessons that we manage to impart over and over, themes that keep reappearing no matter what specific topic we're talking about. I think those themes are also influenced by Savanah's particular needs — for instance, listening continues to be a lesson we come back to again and again, noting how important it is to listen in order to connect, learn, show respect, calm ourselves and find our centers, and listen to the messages of our own bodies, emotions and minds. I don't think that Jerilynn, for instance, will need as much reminding about the importance of listening as her sister, who is incredibly talkative and active while Jerilynn tends to be quiet and inquisitive. But we may face other challenges with Jerilynn that we didn't with Savanah… it's hard to guess almost two years in advance. I really am looking forward to continuing this work with all the kids, and eventually working this material into a book (or two or three?) at some later point. And it's very good to spend this time one-on-one with Savanah — it's made a big difference in how both Jeff and I relate to her, and her readiness to confide in and connect with us. For that alone, I think it's definitely worth it.
A note on the structure of the course itself… I think overall, it's working well. Now that I'm investigating astrology more and exploring the overlap between the three Druidic elements and the cardinal, fixed and mutable aspects of the four elements in the zodiac… I'm wondering if it might be interesting to experiment with a year-long study similar to the kind TDN has set up with their Perennial Course in Living Druidry. Setting things up so that, for instance, the lessons of Nwyfre of Earth correspond with the cardinal earth zodiac sign of Capricorn (Dec. 21 - Jan. 21) and Gwyar of Water correspond with the mutable water sign of Pisces (Feb. 21 - March 21). It might be interesting to play with the order in this way… though the order and structure I have it set up in right now feels very natural, building on what came before. Mixing things up might make it more difficult… but, on the other hand, it would also "personalize" the year-long study course according to each person's birthday, which might be particularly good for young people. It might force me to simplify the lessons as well, in the same way TDN's course lessons are fairly simple but still profound. I'll explore this possibility as I learn more about astrology and keep it in mind, at least.
Our final week of Gwyar of Earth work, we focused on the seasonal cycle of the year and the relationship between the sun and the earth in creating the seasons. We spent quite a bit of time talking about the difference between the Fire Festivals and the Solar Festivals and how they embody different ways of relating to the sun, as well as comparing these holy days to the Wiccan sabbats and exploring the differences and similarities. We talked about the cycle of the seasons as a metaphor for birth, growth, maturity, death and rebirth both in the human life cycle and also in how we approach our goals and dreams, taking time to plan and prepare for each stage and doing work that reflects the needs and energies of that stage. For her journal, we asked her to label a diagram of the wheel of the year with the different holidays and write a little blurb about each of them. We also had her pick out two more objects for her altar: one representing the sun itself, and one representing the current season. (To be honest, it was so long ago that I can't remember which objects she chose. I do remember being very impressed by the intuitive nature of the object she chose for the sun, but can't for the life of me remember what it was.) For that week's activity, we asked her to do a creative project to symbolize the wheel of the year and the cycle of the seasons. She used a new Christmas gift to make a woven bracelet with different colored beads representing the four seasons.
During February, we moved on to Nwyfre of Earth and introduced Savanah to the basic practices of breath meditation, centering and grounding. We began by learning about the physical breath and how it connects us to the world around us in the most intimate and immediate way. We began to connect the idea of the physical breath with the sense of life-force and spirit expressed through the elemental principle of nwyfre, and discussed how the way we breathe (fast or slow, heavy or shallow, etc.) can give us insight into how we are feeling, and help us to calm down and feel better when we're feeling upset. We asked her to journal answers to some simple questions about the relationship between breath and self-awareness (the directed questions that provide a review of our conversations during the lesson are turning out to work really well), and for her activity we taught her the simple breath meditation of bringing focus to the physical sensations of your own breathing (as a first step towards more complex practices). The following week, we moved on to the practice of centering. We discussed the idea of our "spiritual center" as similar to your "center of balance" and talked about different techniques to use to help find your center, that "still place of peace" between breaths. Her activity for the week was to practice the centering meditation and answer some questions in her journal about what the practice was like, how it helped her or what made it seem difficult, etc. The following week, we moved on to grounding, with a brief meditation I wrote using a stone from her altar (as well as some Awen chanting — I feel a bit bad because we didn't take much time to actually talk about Awen itself, since she was already familiar with it from participating in Druid rituals in the past). We discussed how grounding provides us with a connection to both the realm of the gods and the "underworld" realm below us, like a try reaching our limbs into the sky seeking sunlight as well as reaching our roots down into the earth to find stability and nourishment. We talked about the idea of energy exchange, and how grounding can help us release anxiety or anger that is hindering or hurting us, as well as draw energy and support from the earth when we are feeling weak or tired. The grounding exercise was her activity for the week, with some more questions for journaling about the experience and how she felt about it.
Throughout March and April, for the most part we took a break from lessons. The stellium in Aries meant both Jeff and I were kind of going nuts with energy, and work and other commitments dominated our time so that weekends left us pretty wiped. We did have a chance towards the beginning to get into the next month of work, Calas of Water, which was dedicated to learning about communication, connection and emotion in different practices and beliefs of Druidry, specifically through the forms and structures of storytelling, mythology, poetry and music. The first week, we talked about ancient myths and fairytales and how they were used to pass on important ideas and information about the people and the land. We talked a little bit about how stories don't just give us information, but actually give us insight into a whole perspective or worldview. To demonstrate this, we asked Savanah for her weekly activity to choose a myth or fairytale she knew and rewrite it from the point of view of one of the minor characters. The next week, we didn't have time for a full lesson, but we did go over her work — her story was excellent, a retelling of the story about the boy who has to face a giant (I forget the name of it) told from the point of view of the bird he caught. Very creatively done!
Last week, we finally got back on track and combined the last two weeks of Calas of Water work to talk about poetry and music together. This worked out well and tied back into the work on mythology that we'd done previously (so it provided a good refresher) — we told the story of Amergin and the Milesians coming to Ireland and winning the land from the Tuatha de, and read her a (translated) version of the Song of Amergin where he sings to the land to praise and honor her. This provided an excellent example of the blurred lines between myth, poetry and music, and we talked about using "concrete sensory details" in power to give our language power and to evoke feelings and ideas without explaining them in the abstract. We then played her the song, "I Am," by the group Beltaine's Fire, which is a song both praising poetry and rhyme as tools for learning and memory, and also drawing on and re-imagines the Song of Amergin, providing another connection. I spent a lot of time talking about how the vibration of music in our bodies — especially when we sing together or dance to and play music — connects us in a very physical, literal way, making our bodies vibrate in harmony. (This idea seemed to impress Savanah quite a bit, because she asked me if I had memorized my "speech" or just knew it off the top of my head!)
This week we moved ahead into Gwyar of Water and our exploration of dreams, divination and visualization meditations as ways that we can communicate and connect with our subconscious mind, the gods, ancestors and spirits of the land. We'd asked Savanah to keep a dream journal for the past week, so we spent some time going over the dreams she remembered and what they might mean, how they made her feel, etc. We talked about dream interpretation more generally and how the subconscious mind often uses symbols, images and emotions to communicate indirectly, instead of spelling everything out for us logically and rationally. We talked a bit about how dreaming helps us to integrate our waking experiences more deeply into who we are (like water churned up by activity slowly settling and becoming clear again during a period of rest), and that's why we might have dreams about activities that are either new to us or dominated the time we were awake on a particular day.
We also discussed divination techniques and how they worked, using very similar images and symbolic associations as dreams do. (This was originally going to be week two for this month's lessons, but we won't be seeing them next weekend and we're still trying to play catch up, so in order to give her enough work to do during that extra week we decided to introduce the idea of divination now and continue to expand on it when we see her again). Savanah is still struggling to believe that she is capable of doing the work we ask her to do, and will panic (or exaggerate her anxiety) whenever we suggest something that might be a challenge — to overcome this during this lesson, I asked her to try to think of five different divination techniques that she knew of just from reading books and seeing movies and talking to people. Sure enough, she was quickly and easily able to list off five: tarot, runes, palm reading, tea leaves and crystal balls. We talked about how each of these techniques worked, what you did, and why that approach was able to put you in touch with your nonrational/subconscious mind (or the gods — I think when we return to this subject, we'll focus more on how the gods come into it). We also talked about the larger categories that these specific divination techniques fell into and what other types would be included (for instance, looking for shapes in clouds, entrails or even ugly wallpaper is similar to tea leaf reading; gazing into water or a black mirror or even a thumb nail is similar to using a crystal ball, ogham is similar to using runes, etc.).
For her activities for the next two weeks, we've made recordings of the centering/grounding exercise from the Nwyfre of Earth lessons for her to listen to, so that she can practice these meditation techniques each morning. Jeff also gave her a longer relaxation/visualization guided meditation to do next week before she goes to bed in the evening, to get her used to the technique of visualizing before we move on to the third week of this month's lesson. In addition, we've asked her to do three tarot readings using her tarot deck (asking whatever questions she wants and coming up with her interpretations of the cards before looking in the book for their "official" meanings). And lastly, we've asked her to keep on recording her dreams in her journal as well, and to answer a few journaling questions next week on any kinds of patterns that she notices about her dreams.
So the work is going well, really. Every time I go back over the general outline, I'm excited by how much cool stuff we're going to cover over the coming months. I also worry a little bit that it won't all sink in (for instance, discussions we have months ago about using grounding to help siphon off nervous energy are obviously not helping Savanah very much in controlling her panic at times!)… and I wonder if we're trying to do too much too fast. But I think in general it's important to give an overview so that she has some sense of how it all fits together and can go back and explore more in-depth on her own if she chooses to. Since it really is all connected and intertwined, any little bit that "sticks" can eventually lead her back to the rest… and since Jeff and I are pretty well-versed and deep in our practice, there are some lessons that we manage to impart over and over, themes that keep reappearing no matter what specific topic we're talking about. I think those themes are also influenced by Savanah's particular needs — for instance, listening continues to be a lesson we come back to again and again, noting how important it is to listen in order to connect, learn, show respect, calm ourselves and find our centers, and listen to the messages of our own bodies, emotions and minds. I don't think that Jerilynn, for instance, will need as much reminding about the importance of listening as her sister, who is incredibly talkative and active while Jerilynn tends to be quiet and inquisitive. But we may face other challenges with Jerilynn that we didn't with Savanah… it's hard to guess almost two years in advance. I really am looking forward to continuing this work with all the kids, and eventually working this material into a book (or two or three?) at some later point. And it's very good to spend this time one-on-one with Savanah — it's made a big difference in how both Jeff and I relate to her, and her readiness to confide in and connect with us. For that alone, I think it's definitely worth it.
A note on the structure of the course itself… I think overall, it's working well. Now that I'm investigating astrology more and exploring the overlap between the three Druidic elements and the cardinal, fixed and mutable aspects of the four elements in the zodiac… I'm wondering if it might be interesting to experiment with a year-long study similar to the kind TDN has set up with their Perennial Course in Living Druidry. Setting things up so that, for instance, the lessons of Nwyfre of Earth correspond with the cardinal earth zodiac sign of Capricorn (Dec. 21 - Jan. 21) and Gwyar of Water correspond with the mutable water sign of Pisces (Feb. 21 - March 21). It might be interesting to play with the order in this way… though the order and structure I have it set up in right now feels very natural, building on what came before. Mixing things up might make it more difficult… but, on the other hand, it would also "personalize" the year-long study course according to each person's birthday, which might be particularly good for young people. It might force me to simplify the lessons as well, in the same way TDN's course lessons are fairly simple but still profound. I'll explore this possibility as I learn more about astrology and keep it in mind, at least.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
DOTR Lesson 3: Awen and Creative Work
The Killing Blow
Call me the name of peace
as though it were a curse,
and I will bless you, saying,
Yes, and I will lift up
the white flower of cowardice
and trembling, I will lift up that blossom
the color of snow and ocean foam
and moonlight, cloud and empty wind
and bone. I will lift it up with these hands
worn and worried with bickering,
limp with the luxury of blood,
the hands I inherited from my ancestors
whose bones, too, are white beneath the mud.
The goddess of war climbs the mountain's peak,
the hard, pale sunlight like the whites of her eyes.
Wonder, too, is a kind of power.
What curse she lays on the wearied earth, saying,
Yes, and Peace, and other fearful things.
The hills grow soft, will not be rushed
as last year's dead lift up
the small, white blossoms of the spring.
Call me the name of peace
as though it were a curse,
and I will bless you, saying,
Yes, and I will lift up
the white flower of cowardice
and trembling, I will lift up that blossom
the color of snow and ocean foam
and moonlight, cloud and empty wind
and bone. I will lift it up with these hands
worn and worried with bickering,
limp with the luxury of blood,
the hands I inherited from my ancestors
whose bones, too, are white beneath the mud.
The goddess of war climbs the mountain's peak,
the hard, pale sunlight like the whites of her eyes.
Wonder, too, is a kind of power.
What curse she lays on the wearied earth, saying,
Yes, and Peace, and other fearful things.
The hills grow soft, will not be rushed
as last year's dead lift up
the small, white blossoms of the spring.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Diary
Days of Note: First Quarter White Waking Moon
Sun: aquarius (air/fixed), 7:19am - 5:50pm
Moon: *first quarter, gemini (air/mutable)
Earth: just below freezing, with gentle winds and gentle sun, but still very much winter despite the first hinting stirrings of spring
Today, my second "day off" of the week, I woke up at 6:30 AM wide awake. Of course, it being still dark and Jeff being pretty much sound asleep, I didn't bother to actually get up. Still, I was full of energy and excitement about the day. Most likely because it was my "day off" and I was eager to get back to what I'd been working on my last "day off," Wedding Wednesday — which I spent, not on wedding stuff as I should have, but on taking the first steps towards designing and setting up my new website. I can become obsessive about these things. It's always been the case that a huge motivating factor for me is the appearance and packaging of a thing. That may sound shallow or superficial, but for me, part of the thrill of a beautiful piece of writing is the aesthetic pleasure of the physical book itself: the heft and weight of it, the scent of book binding glue, the neat, elegant formatting of the fonts, the cover art. And when it comes to online writing, this spills over into websites. A website can be — contrary to so much embarrassing evidence out there — elegant and beautiful and inviting, a worthy showcase of excellent work. I want my website to be like that. And so I thrill at the hours upon hours that I get to spend tweaking code and experimenting with color combinations and layout features.
When all's said and done, though, I want to be able to fill a website with awesome material. So as much as I was excited about having a day off today, I knew that I really couldn't go much further on the website design without facing the music and buckling down to some actual writing. And weirdly enough, I was dreading that. I had a restless frustration, like cabin-and/or-spring fever, that made me worry I wouldn't be able to settle down to do the creative work I wanted to do. I feel like it's been so long since I've done creative writing that really sang my soul-song. And of course, I've been feeling pressure (or, more kindly, leadings) from Brigid that I should be turning back to this work and cultivating it. Even my aspirant work with DOTR this lesson is focused on creative work and our relationship with awen, the Druid concept of inspiration, the fire-in-the-head breath of the gods. So every day I failed to write creatively, it became that much harder to have any confidence that I still had it in me.
This morning, I got in a few hours of work before lunch, and generally wasted time poking around online reading articles and blog feeds and Facebook updates that left me feeling befuddled and muddy headed. I knew I needed to give myself time and space in which to be creative, but that restlessness was keeping me from calming down. That, plus the monthly cravings for pastries and chocolate were at constant war with my commitment to the mostly-raw vegan diet Jeff and I are trying out, and the result was the weird sensation that I was... bored. Which is hard to explain. But boredom as an emotional state, and the tension of cravings for un-filling, bad-for-me food, were hardly distinguishable. So finally, in early afternoon, I decided to compromise: I had one piece of chocolate from the stash my mother sent me in a care package for Valentine's Day, and then I went downstairs and got one of my numerous How To Write Poetry workbooks (I know where they all are now, because Jeff and I have organized our bookshelves, hurrah!). I read through the introduction and the beginning of the first chapter before getting to the first exercise. Then I sat down, and I did it. I've already shared the results.
Or, at least, the product of the process. But there were other results, too. It took me hours to write that poem, hours of weighing and pushing and feeling my way through each line. Even now, I'm not sure if it's any good or not. But the process was so satisfying and restful, and something I had missed so much without even realizing it. It was work, in the best sense of the word. Not busywork to keep me churning and spinning my wheels, not time clocked or overly specific exercises leading step-by-step. It was just the work of digging and sensing and sitting quietly listening to the rhythm of each line, each word, and working my way slowly, gently, towards the poem's end. It was so satisfying, yet calming, that after dinner I felt as though I had plenty of energy and motivation, and I was eager to plunge back in. Jeff had a few hours of work left to do, since he took time out of the middle of the day to run errands before the kids come this weekend. So I buckled down to tackle some revision work I'd been meaning to do for a while.
The plan with the new website is to make it mostly a static site to showcase my writing and publications (and possibly photographs), with a blog feature incorporated to share news and smaller essays. I won't be exporting the old Meadowsweet blog into this new site, but instead I'm going ahead with my original plan to compile the best pieces from the old blog into a book to make available on Lulu (or, possibly, through a publisher, if Graeme's small publishing company will still have me). Once I began the process of selecting and compiling these pieces (which was months ago now), I realized that many of them I wanted to expand and revise, incorporating ideas that developed in the comment threads and just in general touching them up and making them more suitable for the print medium. Because I'm a perfectionist. But the task seemed so daunting, I never really got started on it.
Tonight, I sat down after dinner and began working on an expansion/revision of the first essay. It wasn't just enjoyable, it was downright fun! I felt like I was back to my old self again, revisiting the old me who was a diehard Poet-capital-P. For so long now it seems — though it can't be more than half a year at most — I've felt not so much like a writer as like.... a blogger. And I do mean that in the derogatory sense, no matter how unfair that might be. But "blogging" (as The Doctor uses it) is like chattering gossip and bickering banter about trivia and current events. I think it could be more than that, and I used to be pretty good at staying grounded in that vision of it being more than that, but my involvement with P+P has dragged me down in some ways, I think, and left me disoriented and feeling utterly drained of creative inspiration. It is so hard to take the risk of true creativity when you feel constantly under attack my insulting snipers and overly-critical know-it-alls. It's hard not to get sucked into that world, to become small. But reading back over old posts, and working on them again with this new burst of creative juices, I felt as though I were coming home to myself. I no longer had to berate myself for not doing the work I was supposed to be doing. Even if it takes a while, even if I'm not rushing off to score the instant gratification of immediate publication in a blog medium, I am doing the work, and allowing it to take however long it takes. I may end up with some material worthy of publication in magazines (though my luck there has been less than wonderful lately). Either way, I am doing the creative work I want to be doing and allowing myself to look beyond the borders of our sometimes self-involved little community of Pagans. This, I like.
So it's been a good day, and this diary entry probably reflects that. There is much to catch up on that has been going on in my life, but I'm not going to beat myself up over not doing a better job of chronicling it. That is busywork. This is creative work. I'm also not going to do the first part of the DOTR Aspirant Lesson 3 as it is written. I will not be doing daily note-taking on my plans and goals, nor doing the weird exercise of writing with one hand, then the other for a week. I suspect this last exercise is supposed to put you in touch with your more "artistic" brain, but I have far better ways of doing that on my own. Perhaps I will turn the journaling prompts into poetry-writing exercises instead and experiment with them in that way, but in general I'll be adapting the lesson to suit my needs. I'm hoping this is alright with Bob. Since he and I have known each other in one form or another for several years now, he did invite me to just join outright as a full Druid member, but I agreed to go through the lessons. In part because it's a good refresher, and in part because I wanted to understand the community sense that was developed through the lessons themselves, and in part because I hoped to be able to give Bob some feedback on the lessons themselves and ways they might be improved. We'll see how receptive he is to me blowing off the lesson plans for this month and exploring awen in my own way.
Daily Tarot Card: The King of Wands stands noble and proud, energetic and ready for action and activity. His blood flows bright and quick with passion, enthusiasm for his work, yet as the mature "yang" of the suit, he also understands the necessity of structure and order to reign his power in, harness it and shape it to his purposes. He is a figure defined by his energy and enthusiastic engagement with the world around him and the work he pursues in it. He may sometimes try to do everything at once, and for that reason to shy away from a sense of control or imposed order that might restrict him or rob him of the space his creativity needs to flourish. Yet this tension between passion and calm, creativity and order, are held delicately and deftly under his rule.
Sun: aquarius (air/fixed), 7:19am - 5:50pm
Moon: *first quarter, gemini (air/mutable)
Earth: just below freezing, with gentle winds and gentle sun, but still very much winter despite the first hinting stirrings of spring
Today, my second "day off" of the week, I woke up at 6:30 AM wide awake. Of course, it being still dark and Jeff being pretty much sound asleep, I didn't bother to actually get up. Still, I was full of energy and excitement about the day. Most likely because it was my "day off" and I was eager to get back to what I'd been working on my last "day off," Wedding Wednesday — which I spent, not on wedding stuff as I should have, but on taking the first steps towards designing and setting up my new website. I can become obsessive about these things. It's always been the case that a huge motivating factor for me is the appearance and packaging of a thing. That may sound shallow or superficial, but for me, part of the thrill of a beautiful piece of writing is the aesthetic pleasure of the physical book itself: the heft and weight of it, the scent of book binding glue, the neat, elegant formatting of the fonts, the cover art. And when it comes to online writing, this spills over into websites. A website can be — contrary to so much embarrassing evidence out there — elegant and beautiful and inviting, a worthy showcase of excellent work. I want my website to be like that. And so I thrill at the hours upon hours that I get to spend tweaking code and experimenting with color combinations and layout features.
When all's said and done, though, I want to be able to fill a website with awesome material. So as much as I was excited about having a day off today, I knew that I really couldn't go much further on the website design without facing the music and buckling down to some actual writing. And weirdly enough, I was dreading that. I had a restless frustration, like cabin-and/or-spring fever, that made me worry I wouldn't be able to settle down to do the creative work I wanted to do. I feel like it's been so long since I've done creative writing that really sang my soul-song. And of course, I've been feeling pressure (or, more kindly, leadings) from Brigid that I should be turning back to this work and cultivating it. Even my aspirant work with DOTR this lesson is focused on creative work and our relationship with awen, the Druid concept of inspiration, the fire-in-the-head breath of the gods. So every day I failed to write creatively, it became that much harder to have any confidence that I still had it in me.
This morning, I got in a few hours of work before lunch, and generally wasted time poking around online reading articles and blog feeds and Facebook updates that left me feeling befuddled and muddy headed. I knew I needed to give myself time and space in which to be creative, but that restlessness was keeping me from calming down. That, plus the monthly cravings for pastries and chocolate were at constant war with my commitment to the mostly-raw vegan diet Jeff and I are trying out, and the result was the weird sensation that I was... bored. Which is hard to explain. But boredom as an emotional state, and the tension of cravings for un-filling, bad-for-me food, were hardly distinguishable. So finally, in early afternoon, I decided to compromise: I had one piece of chocolate from the stash my mother sent me in a care package for Valentine's Day, and then I went downstairs and got one of my numerous How To Write Poetry workbooks (I know where they all are now, because Jeff and I have organized our bookshelves, hurrah!). I read through the introduction and the beginning of the first chapter before getting to the first exercise. Then I sat down, and I did it. I've already shared the results.
Or, at least, the product of the process. But there were other results, too. It took me hours to write that poem, hours of weighing and pushing and feeling my way through each line. Even now, I'm not sure if it's any good or not. But the process was so satisfying and restful, and something I had missed so much without even realizing it. It was work, in the best sense of the word. Not busywork to keep me churning and spinning my wheels, not time clocked or overly specific exercises leading step-by-step. It was just the work of digging and sensing and sitting quietly listening to the rhythm of each line, each word, and working my way slowly, gently, towards the poem's end. It was so satisfying, yet calming, that after dinner I felt as though I had plenty of energy and motivation, and I was eager to plunge back in. Jeff had a few hours of work left to do, since he took time out of the middle of the day to run errands before the kids come this weekend. So I buckled down to tackle some revision work I'd been meaning to do for a while.
The plan with the new website is to make it mostly a static site to showcase my writing and publications (and possibly photographs), with a blog feature incorporated to share news and smaller essays. I won't be exporting the old Meadowsweet blog into this new site, but instead I'm going ahead with my original plan to compile the best pieces from the old blog into a book to make available on Lulu (or, possibly, through a publisher, if Graeme's small publishing company will still have me). Once I began the process of selecting and compiling these pieces (which was months ago now), I realized that many of them I wanted to expand and revise, incorporating ideas that developed in the comment threads and just in general touching them up and making them more suitable for the print medium. Because I'm a perfectionist. But the task seemed so daunting, I never really got started on it.
Tonight, I sat down after dinner and began working on an expansion/revision of the first essay. It wasn't just enjoyable, it was downright fun! I felt like I was back to my old self again, revisiting the old me who was a diehard Poet-capital-P. For so long now it seems — though it can't be more than half a year at most — I've felt not so much like a writer as like.... a blogger. And I do mean that in the derogatory sense, no matter how unfair that might be. But "blogging" (as The Doctor uses it) is like chattering gossip and bickering banter about trivia and current events. I think it could be more than that, and I used to be pretty good at staying grounded in that vision of it being more than that, but my involvement with P+P has dragged me down in some ways, I think, and left me disoriented and feeling utterly drained of creative inspiration. It is so hard to take the risk of true creativity when you feel constantly under attack my insulting snipers and overly-critical know-it-alls. It's hard not to get sucked into that world, to become small. But reading back over old posts, and working on them again with this new burst of creative juices, I felt as though I were coming home to myself. I no longer had to berate myself for not doing the work I was supposed to be doing. Even if it takes a while, even if I'm not rushing off to score the instant gratification of immediate publication in a blog medium, I am doing the work, and allowing it to take however long it takes. I may end up with some material worthy of publication in magazines (though my luck there has been less than wonderful lately). Either way, I am doing the creative work I want to be doing and allowing myself to look beyond the borders of our sometimes self-involved little community of Pagans. This, I like.
So it's been a good day, and this diary entry probably reflects that. There is much to catch up on that has been going on in my life, but I'm not going to beat myself up over not doing a better job of chronicling it. That is busywork. This is creative work. I'm also not going to do the first part of the DOTR Aspirant Lesson 3 as it is written. I will not be doing daily note-taking on my plans and goals, nor doing the weird exercise of writing with one hand, then the other for a week. I suspect this last exercise is supposed to put you in touch with your more "artistic" brain, but I have far better ways of doing that on my own. Perhaps I will turn the journaling prompts into poetry-writing exercises instead and experiment with them in that way, but in general I'll be adapting the lesson to suit my needs. I'm hoping this is alright with Bob. Since he and I have known each other in one form or another for several years now, he did invite me to just join outright as a full Druid member, but I agreed to go through the lessons. In part because it's a good refresher, and in part because I wanted to understand the community sense that was developed through the lessons themselves, and in part because I hoped to be able to give Bob some feedback on the lessons themselves and ways they might be improved. We'll see how receptive he is to me blowing off the lesson plans for this month and exploring awen in my own way.
Daily Tarot Card: The King of Wands stands noble and proud, energetic and ready for action and activity. His blood flows bright and quick with passion, enthusiasm for his work, yet as the mature "yang" of the suit, he also understands the necessity of structure and order to reign his power in, harness it and shape it to his purposes. He is a figure defined by his energy and enthusiastic engagement with the world around him and the work he pursues in it. He may sometimes try to do everything at once, and for that reason to shy away from a sense of control or imposed order that might restrict him or rob him of the space his creativity needs to flourish. Yet this tension between passion and calm, creativity and order, are held delicately and deftly under his rule.
DOTR Lesson 3: Awen and Creative Work
Feeding Seagulls
I don't know how they came all that way, following the Susquehanna
into the foothills of the Appalachian mountains of central Pennsylvania,
to the empty field at the end of my street where I took my father
out beneath the high, gray winds of autumn
to show him how I called the birds to me.
It wasn't hard, I told him when he asked
about the teacher's phone call, the wasted lunches, and why
I spent each recess in the field feeding gulls instead of playing with the other
kids. But I knew he couldn't understand unless I showed him.
Again, I plucked a grape and held its slick, dark shape
between two pudgy fingers — arced my arm in one smooth and mighty toss,
shoulder loose and elbow locked, the last flick of wrist sending the fruit soaring
until it disappeared against the blurry sky.
Again and again, I swung with all the longing I could send
out of my awkward, grade school body — the silent call to come, to feast,
to circle in. For a week this had gone on, me alone in the field
throwing grapes and torn bits of white bread smeared with jelly
into the air, as one, then several, then whole flocks of seagulls
gathered wheeling and quarreling around me, each silhouette two sharp
parentheses hinged around a tight, tiny body that moved like a boat
cutting through invisible waters, lazy with its breathless speed.
My father waited. Wedged between empty field and empty sky,
the mute sting of loss was creeping in. It was too late,
or too cold, or too dim in the autumn evening. I begged for him to wait
a little longer, as I tossed higher and higher, wished to god I had brought bread
instead, and dreamed with every second how the wings had sounded
against the air, the tense emptiness of those wild pilgrims
dancing and screaming around the promised offerings as they came.
I don't know how they made it all that way, so far from the shores
where my people, too, had spilled in ragged, starving flocks
against the land and staggered towards the mountains in the west.
My father turned to walk back home. Behind us, one or two gulls,
secreted away behind the clouds, dropped down on the abandoned food.
The ocean was only a story they blamed on one another,
crying over and over how they had lost it.
I don't know how they came all that way, following the Susquehanna
into the foothills of the Appalachian mountains of central Pennsylvania,
to the empty field at the end of my street where I took my father
out beneath the high, gray winds of autumn
to show him how I called the birds to me.
It wasn't hard, I told him when he asked
about the teacher's phone call, the wasted lunches, and why
I spent each recess in the field feeding gulls instead of playing with the other
kids. But I knew he couldn't understand unless I showed him.
Again, I plucked a grape and held its slick, dark shape
between two pudgy fingers — arced my arm in one smooth and mighty toss,
shoulder loose and elbow locked, the last flick of wrist sending the fruit soaring
until it disappeared against the blurry sky.
Again and again, I swung with all the longing I could send
out of my awkward, grade school body — the silent call to come, to feast,
to circle in. For a week this had gone on, me alone in the field
throwing grapes and torn bits of white bread smeared with jelly
into the air, as one, then several, then whole flocks of seagulls
gathered wheeling and quarreling around me, each silhouette two sharp
parentheses hinged around a tight, tiny body that moved like a boat
cutting through invisible waters, lazy with its breathless speed.
My father waited. Wedged between empty field and empty sky,
the mute sting of loss was creeping in. It was too late,
or too cold, or too dim in the autumn evening. I begged for him to wait
a little longer, as I tossed higher and higher, wished to god I had brought bread
instead, and dreamed with every second how the wings had sounded
against the air, the tense emptiness of those wild pilgrims
dancing and screaming around the promised offerings as they came.
I don't know how they made it all that way, so far from the shores
where my people, too, had spilled in ragged, starving flocks
against the land and staggered towards the mountains in the west.
My father turned to walk back home. Behind us, one or two gulls,
secreted away behind the clouds, dropped down on the abandoned food.
The ocean was only a story they blamed on one another,
crying over and over how they had lost it.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Meditations on Brigid: Goddess of Poetry
Brigid, Goddess of Poetry,
May you reveal an aspect of yourself to me.
Brigid, Goddess of Poetry, I do not understand. What gifts am I still refusing? What gifts do you offer to me?
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
DOTR Lesson 2: Earth
Do not be selfish with your life.
Do not waste your days
inventing ways to change the world
to suit your small ideas.
Do this:
Go out under the open, cloudless sky
and listen to the silence of autumn.
Sit on the rock where once someone carved
a serpent and a star, worn now
by the rain and half-covered
with fallen leaves.
In the sun, your skin is hot
with the pulse of your blood.
In the shade, your skin is cool
with the tides of your breath.
And you are made of this,
flux and form, shifting
in the sunlight of the silent afternoon.
Do this:
Sit on the rock and watch
as the low sun moves
without moving
between the dark
columns of the trees.
Let the fly alight
on your upturned hand
and nuzzle your thumb
where it shimmers, the ridges
of your fingerprints rippling
under its furry, iridescent paws.
An eye studded with diamonds.
Wings translucent, opalescent,
like the cells of your body
woven through with black veins.
There is nothing that moves
in this world but this fly,
who comes and goes despite
the nearness of winter
and thinks nothing
but that the flesh of your body
is soft and sweet-smelling
and sturdy enough, and good.
Do this one thing:
do not be selfish with your life.
Do not imagine that this moment
is somehow less than the dreams
you carry with you, or the silence
into which the fly eventually
wanders, unafraid.
The sun slips behind another tree.
Look up and see, illuminated in
webs of twigs and tree limbs
against the shadowed hills beyond,
the same iridescent pattern
of the fly's wing
in the forest.
Bright twining world,
you do not owe us anything
but this.
Do not waste your days
inventing ways to change the world
to suit your small ideas.
Do this:
Go out under the open, cloudless sky
and listen to the silence of autumn.
Sit on the rock where once someone carved
a serpent and a star, worn now
by the rain and half-covered
with fallen leaves.
In the sun, your skin is hot
with the pulse of your blood.
In the shade, your skin is cool
with the tides of your breath.
And you are made of this,
flux and form, shifting
in the sunlight of the silent afternoon.
Do this:
Sit on the rock and watch
as the low sun moves
without moving
between the dark
columns of the trees.
Let the fly alight
on your upturned hand
and nuzzle your thumb
where it shimmers, the ridges
of your fingerprints rippling
under its furry, iridescent paws.
An eye studded with diamonds.
Wings translucent, opalescent,
like the cells of your body
woven through with black veins.
There is nothing that moves
in this world but this fly,
who comes and goes despite
the nearness of winter
and thinks nothing
but that the flesh of your body
is soft and sweet-smelling
and sturdy enough, and good.
Do this one thing:
do not be selfish with your life.
Do not imagine that this moment
is somehow less than the dreams
you carry with you, or the silence
into which the fly eventually
wanders, unafraid.
The sun slips behind another tree.
Look up and see, illuminated in
webs of twigs and tree limbs
against the shadowed hills beyond,
the same iridescent pattern
of the fly's wing
in the forest.
Bright twining world,
you do not owe us anything
but this.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
"Lady of the Star Fire" Chant
I just loved Ellen's chant, so much that I wanted it to be longer! Here's an expanded version I've been playing with. I tried to incorporate some more of the themes we've been experiencing and exploring in the "Lady of the Stars" TNC group, tying them back to the poet/healer/smith triplicity more traditional to Brigid. For me, this triplicity expresses itself more abstractly as "inspiration, integration, transformation" as a kind of process of both creativity and love (i.e. the "forging" of relationships). So in the first three stanzas, I tried to capture those themes... With the "exploratory" ritual in mind, I wanted to incorporate a kind of "appeal" to her for guidance in the final stanza. Here's what I ended up with (to Ellen's tune):
Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
Spark of inspiration, Goddess of light!
Shaper of the Darkness, shine on me, shine on me!
Ember of creation, burning in the night!
Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
Healer at the hot springs rising from the heart!
Fire in the Water, flow in me, flow in me!
Sweet the restoration deep within your art!
Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
Queen of transformation, Forger of Worlds!
Hammer on the Anvil, sing to me, sing to me!
Ancient spiral turning, galaxies unfurled!
Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
I am your apprentice, Worker of the Fire!
I have heard your starlight calling me, calling me!
Show me how to answer, guide my hope's desire!
Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
Spark of inspiration, Goddess of light!
Shaper of the Darkness, shine on me, shine on me!
Ember of creation, burning in the night!
Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
Healer at the hot springs rising from the heart!
Fire in the Water, flow in me, flow in me!
Sweet the restoration deep within your art!
Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
Queen of transformation, Forger of Worlds!
Hammer on the Anvil, sing to me, sing to me!
Ancient spiral turning, galaxies unfurled!
Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
I am your apprentice, Worker of the Fire!
I have heard your starlight calling me, calling me!
Show me how to answer, guide my hope's desire!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Brigid of Amber, Brigid of the Stars
I frequent a forum called The Cauldron, where I belong to a flamekeeping Cill dedicated to the goddess Brigid. I began flamekeeping with them just before Imbolc of last year. (Mine is the third day in the rotation of twenty, and my shift has fallen more than once on days of special personal significance to me — which others have told me often happens during the first year of flamekeeping for a new Cill member.)
Recently, some wonderful and fascinating discussions have been going on in the Celtic Polytheism SIG, "Hazel and Oak," focusing on Brigid of the Forge as a creatrix/star goddess. The conversation has sparked (no pun intended) the suggestion of designing a group ritual. I want to plunge in and get involved in this work, journaling some of my thoughts and potential liturgical ideas on this blog, so I thought I would just mention this as an introduction for future reference.
I'll add to this later, but for now, here is a response I posted to the forum tonight, regarding the possibility brought up by others (and echoed in my own personal ritual experiences over the summer) of amber being a "stone" sacred to Brigid.
And in keeping with the themes of fire-on-water and creation, I suddenly see amazing connections to the very first of the Rosary Poems I wrote back in college (of which, at the time, my advisor said, "Some poems just show up whole and perfect the way they are, like a gift"):
More thoughts on all of this when I'm a bit more "together" and coherent.
Recently, some wonderful and fascinating discussions have been going on in the Celtic Polytheism SIG, "Hazel and Oak," focusing on Brigid of the Forge as a creatrix/star goddess. The conversation has sparked (no pun intended) the suggestion of designing a group ritual. I want to plunge in and get involved in this work, journaling some of my thoughts and potential liturgical ideas on this blog, so I thought I would just mention this as an introduction for future reference.
I'll add to this later, but for now, here is a response I posted to the forum tonight, regarding the possibility brought up by others (and echoed in my own personal ritual experiences over the summer) of amber being a "stone" sacred to Brigid.
Part of the reason I did the three gifts meditation was to prepare for my trip to Northern Ireland (for a spiritual retreat focused on peace activism and social justice), and I was hoping for some images/icons to "carry with me" to meditate on during my time there. When the shadowy, robed figure outlined against the flames of the sacred fire reached into the heart of the fire and handed to me a droplet of amber, I think I actually laughed out loud in the middle of the ritual.
It suddenly seemed so obvious to me: first and foremost, amber as a "stone" of living fire or fire-in-water, the life-blood of the tree borne of the intermingling of the underground waters drawn up from the roots and the sunlight cascading down from the sky, cupped and drunk by the leaves. The prayer I use during my flamekeeping shifts begins: "Fire and water in the earth of my body, I keep your sacred flame." Amber as the sap or resin of ancient trees seemed like the perfect symbol of this idea.
And then, of course, is the fact that amber is especially well-known for containing the preserved remains of ancient insects, some of which contain the blood/DNA of ancient animals. So in another way, amber represented the "preservation and protection of life" and the continuation of ancient traditions and primordial energies or spirits. The fact that I was going to a retreat in the land of my ancestors that was focused on peace activism seemed to align perfectly with this idea.
I have wondered if anyone else made this connection to amber. While I was on the retreat, just after I'd found the amber sun amulet at the farmer's market, I had a discussion with someone at the retreat who was a former Pagan — he pointed out that amber and jet was a common combination for jewelry (especially among Wiccans, I think, if I'm remembering correctly what he said). But he said that amber was mostly associated with the God rather than the Goddess, being more "active/yang" and masculine. This deflated me a bit and so I kept my musings about any possible Brigid-amber connection to myself. So it's been wonderful for me to see others validating that connection and sharing some of their own thoughts!
And in keeping with the themes of fire-on-water and creation, I suddenly see amazing connections to the very first of the Rosary Poems I wrote back in college (of which, at the time, my advisor said, "Some poems just show up whole and perfect the way they are, like a gift"):
Annunciation
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness has not overcome it. JOHN 1:5
Her yes becomes flesh
in flesh, white-winged fire swept
along sweat as if over the agitation
of waves, sharp spine of sunlight
in a slow serpentine across
the waters of her body —
there is no rushing it, no cascade
into the long cry of rising — only
a breath, a word, and the pouring
in of everything, even God.
More thoughts on all of this when I'm a bit more "together" and coherent.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
DOTR Lesson 2: Sky
Sunrise in Autumn
I saw
for one brief moment
the light
creeping over the hill
between horizon and fog,
everywhere suffused
with the rose and gold
of morning —
as though we turned
and moved
in joy,
as though we, like all beings,
could reach out
our hands
to cup the day and drink.
The sun rose into cloud,
obscured.
What had lingered
rustling in the shining
crowns of the trees
retreated
into mist.
Now the rooftops
and the bark of the trees
glisten
darkly
with the rainy
dawn and gloom
and everything is still
and wet
and shadowless.
Peace, friends, I say
to the trees.
This too is a kind of light.
And like them,
like all beings, slowly
I open my hands.
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