Salmon Stewardship and Thoughts on Spiritual Practice

Today was our final day of Salmon Stewarding, and our last official program for the Seattle Volunteer Naturalists for this year.

Carkeek was gray, misty and quiet today. Here and there, some carcasses are still rotting along the streambanks. Very few people were out in the park, except for some neighborhood dog-walkers and a few families with very small children earlier in the morning before lunch. Jeff and I spent a good hour or so in the wetlands in the rain, where even the crows were hushed. A male mallard perched on a branch that was half-sunk in water, his head hunched down as he tried to nap in the midst of the rain. In the creek, just above the weir right before the train tracks, a crow was pulling apart the flesh of a salmon carcass, gulping down the strips. All was very peaceful and relaxed, and even the smell of the fish was subdued, lost in the wafting scents of western red-cedar along the stream.

I am so glad we decided to volunteer. It's been a challenge to keep up with all of our required programs this year on top of the training, especially with the uncertainty of our schedules this first year in Seattle, but it was well worth it to have a commitment that forced us to show up and put the time in. I'm looking forward to the spring, when hopefully we'll have a chance to do some volunteer work with the salmon fry in the imprint pond before they're released, and signing up for stations as SVNs as well.

I have been working on incorporating more local naturalist knowledge into my spiritual practice, and I'd like to expand on that area. My column for Aontacht Magazine this coming issue is on building a relationship with keystone species in your local bioregion, and though I definitely have a working relationship with the salmon now and, arguably, the western red-cedar, I'd like to explore these (and a few others) beyond the ecological/natural history aspect and delve more into the "spiritual" side through meditation and ritual work.

I'm realizing that a great deal of my spiritual practice tends to center on direct, embodied encounters with nature -- and so the work with the salmon, for instance, has been really fulfilling for me. Sitting in my room with my eyes closed trying to imagine these sacred encounters is not something I've ever been very good at, even before I became a Pagan. Which is maybe why there's something to be said for rituals that bring you out into the natural world and expose you to the elements (quite literally). All of my most moving memories of Pagan spiritual practice have involved direct encounters of this kind -- especially those performed in bad weather, when I showed up despite rain or snow to kneel in the dirt and place my hands against the earth and light a candle in the darkness. I think maybe that's why my relationship with Artemis has been so strong these last few months. I can feel her presence when I'm out in the woods, with very little effort on my part to visualize and imagine and pray to evoke her presence on my own. I saw that Carl had shared a quote on Twitter today, something along the lines of, "Contemplative prayer is not something you achieve, it is a gift that you receive, given to you in silence, and you need only learn how to accept it." I think for me, this was why I struggled in my relationship with Brigid for a while, because my work with her was always so effortful, something I was working and striving at. It's just not my habit to pray to gods in order to remind myself they're around -- I'm much better at remembering to simply accept the gift of their presence when they make themselves known in my life.

Still, there's something to be said for effortful work, and that's the thing about ritual in bad weather and the commitment to show up to the work. Personally, I tend to think this has very little to do with competence, as Phaedra and others seem to emphasize. I'm not sure I could be much more competent at lighting candles or repeating simple prayers, and the more complicated the ritual (the more demanding of skill and practice an act is because of its many difficult parts), the more I find it to be a distraction rather than an aid in helping me make that connection. Instead, for me, showing up and doing the work has much more to do with commitment -- devotion or loyalty in a sense -- and creating through that commitment the opportunity for grace. That sounds very Christian, maybe, but by grace I just mean blessed synchronicity, the way sacred presence slips into a moment and draws your attention to a larger circle of life that you're a part of. I find it hard to imagine that this has much to do at all with how well I light candles or repeat memorized prayers, and almost everything to do with whether or not I just show up. For me, at least, it seems like putting too great an emphasis on competence becomes an excuse -- once I am meditating competently, it's easy to excuse a missed day or justify why there are so many other things in my life that require attention and practice, so many other skills I need to work at cultivating. Not to downplay the challenge of leading and performing moving and meaningful group rituals, but when it comes to my personal practice, I'd have to be pretty drunk or otherwise incapacitated not to be able to do it competently. It's just not that kind of practice.

But days like today remind me that it's not about how well I do something, but how open I am to what I can experience and learn. It was deeply satisfying and soul-nourishing to be in the woods and the wetlands today, spending time in the silence listening to the sound of rain falling through the mist. I've spent almost a year now studying the ecology of the Pacific Northwest and learning how to effectively engage others and teach them about natural history. But I've also learned that there's a reason we teach out in nature, out among the trees -- because no amount of knowledge or skill on my part will ever be able to recreate the experience of being present to the natural world. No books or lectures of slideshows can evoke that power. So as a naturalist guide and interpreter, my job is to be an excuse for people to slow down and listen and open themselves up to the presence that is already there anyway. Today, Jeff and I stopped and watched the ducks... perfectly ordinary, common ducks that you might see anywhere in the country. What made the experience meaningful and special for us was now our knowledge or skill as naturalists, but our willingness to slow down and listen. We are naturalists because we value this presence of the sacred in nature... not the other way around.

Dark Moon Vigil: Nights 2 and 3

I realize I never wrote up about the last two nights of my three night vigil.

Night Two (Friday night, August 17) was a quick and somewhat impromptu meditation quite late (it may have even been technically Saturday morning by the time I got to it, after hanging out with Leah reading Pratchett and watching a couple episodes of the IT Crowd). I didn't do a full formal ritual circle as I'd done the night before, but simply lit Sorta*'s candle and spent some time in silent meditation before drawing a card from the Oracle deck and then spending a bit longer meditating on its meaning.

The card I drew was the Hunter of Gifts — and my half-sober meditations seemed to revolve mostly around the subtle paradox of being a "hunter" of gifts, how this phrase seems to capture the paradox of our relationship with the gods, the delicate blending and balance of work and grace (to put it in more Catholic theological terms), or action and receptivity, effort and acceptance. I have never gone hunting in a literal sense, but I've heard stories about the long hours spent waiting quietly in the woods, moving gently through the trees trying to be unobtrusive as possible, how our ancestors sometimes had to stalk prey for days.... And the sudden appearance of the animal, when it finally arrived, could seem like a gift. A gift is a gift precisely because it is not earned or deserved or exchanged tit-for-tat... it is simply given, freely.

I found this particularly poignant because on this night, I had another object on the altar besides the Oracle deck, the candle and the water (which I drank, as before, to honor and bring into myself the energies of the divination and meditation).... a pendant that is an abstract depiction of a bow and arrow. It seemed a powerful omen that I would draw a card depicting a hunter on this night. (The night before, when I'd drawn the Shaman of Courage card, I'd had a piece of ritual wear that I plan to consecrate to Sorta* for shamanic/journey work on the altar, one that has ties to the deer/stag, which I always invite into the circle with an invocation of its strength and courage.)

Night Three (Saturday, August 18), once again I did a full clearing and blessing of the space while burning incense, lighting the candle with a prayer to Sorta* after some time in meditation. This time, along with the deck, candle, water and incense on the altar, I had another pendant, this one of a bear's paw print, along with Jeff's bear fetish that he allowed me to use. The card I drew during divination was the Shaman of Stars. Using the recorded drumming, I did some journeywork on the meaning of this energy (again, a good synchronicity that on the night I work with the bear's energy, which I've often invoked as "great starry bear" associated with the constellations of Ursa Major and Minor in the northern sky, I would draw a shaman card of the stars)...

Again, I entered into the hollowed cedar and found myself following a spiraling stairwell deep down into the earth. The stairwell itself had close, cool walls of bluish stone studded with "stars" that shone white and gold in the dark and which, on closer look, were various gems and diamonds. At the bottom of the spiral stairwell was a rounded, wooden door on which the image of the Shaman of Stars appeared. I reached out to touch the image, and at my touch the door swung open, giving way to a night scene of green, rolling hills under a star-studded and moonlit sky. I recognized this place as the same hillside I'd seen in meditation more than a year ago when seeking insight from Brigid about her role in my life and my role in hers. The image I'd received then was of me dancing beneath the moon and starlight off alone in ecstasy, while others gathered around a bonfire off in the distance sharing stories and laughing together. I remember feeling a protest in me about how this personal worship, away from the eyes of others, did not seem to me to be what being a "priestess" to the gods was about (I thought instead it was about serving the community and being in the public eye) and how I was chided for that attitude, reminded that tapping into my own deep relationship with the gods was the source of any "priestessing" I would be doing and that I needed to let go of my worry about others' expectations and opinions when it came to that work. This time, there was no one else on the hilltop beneath the starlight.... at least at first. Then I saw a movement, almost like a disturbance in the air, and there was the Shaman of Stars on the hillside, reaching up to pick stars out of the sky like fruit and bringing them down to the earth. He was tall, huge really, and his head seemed to be of an animal nature, with a snout, and he seemed to have antlers, though they were invisible, in which the net of stars would sometimes snag and shiver with the movement of his head so that the stars themselves glimmered. I approached him hesitantly, watching him awhile as he plucked the stars. Then he handed me one — it was cool and light, not heavy, though it was about the size of my fist, with many gleaming facets. I wasn't sure what to do with it, but had the impulse to eat it, so I put it to my mouth. Some rational part of my mind must have objected to eating something hard as a diamond, for I found that I had to crunch it with my teeth, and it shattered into a million tiny shards, like glitter, that I swallowed down with some degree of trepidation and even horror. But as I swallowed, I could feel the shards embedding themselves within me all along my throat and in my chest, sinking into my flesh, passing into my bloodstream and being passed throughout my body until I was shining and glistening on the inside. The heat of my body seemed to melt them somewhat, so that they were wet and almost like liquid. At the drumming call back, I thanked the Shaman of Stars and turned to return through the door and back up the spiral stairwell.

Of all the nights' meditations, this is the one I'm least sure of — the journey work on courage seemed to have some clear and obvious symbolism, the red-mud paint and the dancing naked by the bonfire.... This seemed to be the counterbalance to that night's work, all darkness and starlight and a kind of being anointed on the inside, by eating the star, rather than on the outside with bodypaint like blood. There are also obvious ties back to my work with Brigid, so that I feel that this is also about bringing the gifts of my past relationship with her into this new work that I'm doing. (The Libra-ascendant in me is all ready to be giddy: oooh! a sun goddess and a moon goddess! how balanced! ::headdesk::)

I had intended to complete these vigils with a ritual of integration on the new moon night (Sunday), but decided it wasn't quite the right time. Jeff and I did go out again to Tiger Mountain, where I spent some time in meditation in a small cave among the Talus Rocks, surrounded by rock and root, soil and sky. Obviously, since then, I've had a couple of rough days with inexplicable crankiness — today, though, I'm feeling more enthusiastic and energetic. I'm thinking perhaps that I'll do some work tomorrow night, on the sixth night of the moon, which is also a day of importance to this goddess.

Random discovery yesterday while surfing online: the western (or Pacific) red cedar is not a true cedar, but is actually a member of the cypress family. This is also pretty intriguing, since I've had an intuitive sense of connection with the western red cedar ever since arriving here in Seattle, and it turns out that the cypress is a tree considered sacred to the goddess I am calling Sorta*. Interesting....

Revised Uncensored To-Do List

Things I've Accomplished Since Samhain

- finish Sullivan's text on Saturn, read Greene's text on Saturn
- continue Flamekeeping shifts
- regular meditation (with candle ritual?) in the morning
- hillwalking at least three times a week
- yoga on non-hillwalking days
- Peace of the Three Realms prayer meditation at least a few times a week
- read book on ecology in Celtic spirituality/mythology
- started book on storytelling and human evolution
- write twice monthly for NUP
- continue to work with guest post submissions for NUP
- follow-up on Wild Earth editorial position w/DD
- research good DSLR camera and purchase
- clean house once a week (Tuesdays?)
- go through wardrobe and drastically reduce
- go through basement and drastically reduce
- go through craft cabinet and drastically reduce
- go through each room week by week to clear out things we're not taking with us
- donate clothes, toys, books, furniture
- organize electronics in preparation for move
- organize altar objects and décor in prep for move
- write wedding gift thank you notes
- print up photo cards for thank you notes
- send thank you notes by thanksgiving
- go out on a date with Jeff once a week
- cut down on plastic use drastically
- investigate eco-friendly alternatives for home use
- become a Seattle Volunteer Naturalist
- attend spring and fall training (Thursdays and Saturdays)
- teach at least two programs per month
- design one or two new programs to teach
- keep a naturalist journal
- participate in Pagan Blog Project 2012
- moved across the country
- found a new apartment

Revised and Updated To-Do List for Spring and Summer

(italics for new items)

Podcasting

- design website for Faith, Fern and Compass
- do weekly research for podcast topics
- set up payment for pro subscriptions
- record two episodes weekly with Jeff
- post-production editing

Astrology & Archetypes

- weekly meditations and journaling on Saturdays for Saturn Return
- read Arroyo's text on astrology and the four elements
- complete natal charts for as many friends and family as possible
- every 6 weeks (on solar & fire festivals), look at up-coming and just-passed transits
- read the other astrology books I picked up while on honeymoon
- work with tarot deck more frequently
- finally read Campbell's Hero with a Thousand Faces
- read book on story and human evolution (forget author)

Spiritual Practice

- continue Flamekeeping shifts
- finish four remaining DOTR lessons for each of the elements
- regular meditation (with candle ritual?) in the morning
- regular libations/offerings in the morning
- regular water/integration ritual in the evenings
- hillwalking at least three times a week
- yoga on non-hillwalking days
- Peace of the Three Realms prayer meditation at least a few times a week
- weekly tarot card reading (on Mondays?)
- practice guitar regularly
- new and full moon rituals each month

Deep Ecology

- become a Seattle Volunteer Naturalist
- attend spring and fall training (Thursdays and Saturdays)
- teach at least two programs per month
- design one or two new programs to teach
- keep a naturalist journal
- hillwalking at least three times a week (see under Spiritual Practice)
- read Integral Ecology
- read Lovelock's text on the Gaia hypothesis
- read book on environmentalism and aesthetics
- read book on "sound ecology" (revisit text on noise and social justice)
- read Oxford Handbook of Religion and Ecology
- look into the Alliance of Religions and Conservation
- become member of the International Society for the Study of Religion, Nature, and Culture

Writing

- participate in Pagan Blog Project 2012
- finish 30 Days of Druidry meme for blog
- write more poetry (poetry exercises from Palm of Your Hand?)
- write twice monthly for NUP
- continue to work with guest post submissions for NUP
- write quarterly Wild Earth feature for Aontacht
- brainstorm article ideas for submission elsewhere
- complete book manuscript for Graeme by early spring
- revise book manuscript by May 1st at latest
- work through Creating a Life Worth Living exercises
- work on Teen Druidry book manuscript

Photography

- purchase good photo editing software
- brainstorm a list of "projects" to pursue
- spend at least one afternoon each week working on photography (taking pics, editing)

Household & Health

- stick to meal plan for healthier, more balanced diet
- exercise with Jeff three times a week
- jog two to three times a week
- get bike fixed
- bike once or twice a week
- yoga and/or back-strengthening exercises three times a week
- try to get closer to 10,000 steps/day goal
- put up curtains for the new apartment
- unpack small decor items for apartment
- put up pictures and other wall hangings

Uncensored To-Do List, Revisited

Key

- Completed (or done on a regular basis)
- Not something I want to do anymore

Astrology

- weekly meditations and journaling on Saturdays for Saturn Return
- finish Sullivan's text on Saturn, read Greene's text on Saturn
- read Arroyo's text on astrology and the four elements
- complete natal charts for as many friends and family as possible
- every 6 weeks (on solar & fire festivals), look at up-coming and just-passed transits
- read the other astrology books I picked up while on honeymoon

Archetypes

- read King Warrior Magician Lover
- read Jung's relevant writings on archetypes
- work with tarot deck more frequently
- review Plotkin's work on soul development
- finally read Campbell's Hero with a Thousand Faces
- read book on story and human evolution (forget author)
- read Markale's text on Arthurian myths
- look at a theory of soul development that spans Plotkin, Campbell, astrology, tarot?

Spiritual Practice

- continue Flamekeeping shifts
- finish four remaining DOTR lessons for each of the elements
- regular meditation (with candle ritual?) in the morning
- regular libations/offerings in the morning
- regular water/integration ritual in the evenings
- hillwalking at least three times a week
- yoga on non-hillwalking days
- Peace of the Three Realms prayer meditation at least a few times a week
- journeying with Badger once a week (on Wednesdays?)
- weekly tarot card reading (on Mondays?)
- ogham work (maybe? divided up by elements?)
- practice guitar regularly
- practice drumming regularly
- new and full moon rituals each month

Deep Ecology

- hillwalking at least three times a week (see under Spiritual Practice)
- journeying with Badger (see under Spiritual Practice)
- read book on ecology in Celtic spirituality/mythology
- read Integral Ecology
- read Lovelock's text on the Gaia hypothesis
- read book on environmentalism and aesthetics
- read book on "sound ecology" (revisit text on noise and social justice)
- read Oxford Handbook of Religion and Ecology
- look into the Alliance of Religions and Conservation
- become member of the International Society for the Study of Religion, Nature, and Culture
- after the move, look into resources on local ecosystems/bioregion
- after move, spend hillwalking time each week connecting with new landscape

Writing

- finish 30 Days of Druidry meme for blog
- write more poetry (poetry exercises from Palm of Your Hand?)
- write twice monthly for NUP
- continue to work with guest post submissions for NUP
- follow-up on Wild Earth editorial position w/DD
- brainstorm article ideas for submission elsewhere
- work on finishing three short stories
- complete book manuscript for Graeme by early spring
- revise book manuscript by May 1st at latest
- work through Creating a Life Worth Living exercises
- work on Teen Druidry book manuscript

Photography

- research good DSLR camera and purchase
- purchase good photo editing software
- brainstorm a list of "projects" to pursue
- spend at least one afternoon each week working on photography (taking pics, editing)

Household & Family

- clean house once a week (Tuesdays?)
- go through wardrobe and drastically reduce
- go through basement and drastically reduce
- go through craft cabinet and drastically reduce
- go through each room week by week to clear out things we're not taking with us
- donate clothes, toys, books, furniture
- organize electronics in preparation for move
- organize altar objects and décor in prep for move
- write wedding gift thank you notes
- print up photo cards for thank you notes
- send thank you notes by thanksgiving
- get and read one or two stepmom-related books (maybe?)
- go out on a date with Jeff once a week
- choose pictures from the wedding to get as prints/album
- cut down on plastic use drastically
- investigate eco-friendly alternatives for home use

An Uncensored List of Things I Want to Do

Astrology

- weekly meditations and journaling on Saturdays for Saturn Return
- finish Sullivan's text on Saturn, read Greene's text on Saturn
- read Arroyo's text on astrology and the four elements
- complete natal charts for as many friends and family as possible
- every 6 weeks (on solar & fire festivals), look at up-coming and just-passed transits
- read the other astrology books I picked up while on honeymoon

Archetypes

- read King Warrior Magician Lover
- read Jung's relevant writings on archetypes
- work with tarot deck more frequently
- review Plotkin's work on soul development
- finally read Campbell's Hero with a Thousand Faces
- read book on story and human evolution (forget author)
- read Markale's text on Arthurian myths
- look at a theory of soul development that spans Plotkin, Campbell, astrology, tarot?

Spiritual Practice

- continue Flamekeeping shifts
- finish four remaining DOTR lessons for each of the elements
- regular meditation (with candle ritual?) in the morning
- regular libations/offerings in the morning
- regular water/integration ritual in the evenings
- hillwalking at least three times a week
- yoga on non-hillwalking days
- Peace of the Three Realms prayer meditation at least a few times a week
- journeying with Badger once a week (on Wednesdays?)
- weekly tarot card reading (on Mondays?)
- ogham work (maybe? divided up by elements?)
- practice guitar regularly
- practice drumming regularly
- new and full moon rituals each month

Deep Ecology

- hillwalking at least three times a week (see under Spiritual Practice)
- journeying with Badger (see under Spiritual Practice)
- read book on ecology in Celtic spirituality/mythology
- read Integral Ecology
- read Lovelock's text on the Gaia hypothesis
- read book on environmentalism and aesthetics
- read book on "sound ecology" (revisit text on noise and social justice)
- read Oxford Handbook of Religion and Ecology
- look into the Alliance of Religions and Conservation
- become member of the International Society for the Study of Religion, Nature, and Culture
- after the move, look into resources on local ecosystems/bioregion
- after move, spend hillwalking time each week connecting with new landscape

Writing

- finish 30 Days of Druidry meme for blog
- write more poetry (poetry exercises from Palm of Your Hand?)
- write twice monthly for NUP
- continue to work with guest post submissions for NUP
- follow-up on Wild Earth editorial position w/DD
- brainstorm article ideas for submission elsewhere
- work on finishing three short stories
- complete book manuscript for Graeme by early spring
- revise book manuscript by May 1st at latest
- work through Creating a Life Worth Living exercises
- work on Teen Druidry book manuscript

Photography

- research good DSLR camera and purchase
- purchase good photo editing software
- brainstorm a list of "projects" to pursue
- spend at least one afternoon each week working on photography (taking pics, editing)

Household & Family

- clean house once a week (Tuesdays?)
- go through wardrobe and drastically reduce
- go through basement and drastically reduce
- go through craft cabinet and drastically reduce
- go through each room week by week to clear out things we're not taking with us
- donate clothes, toys, books, furniture
- organize electronics in preparation for move
- organize altar objects and décor in prep for move
- write wedding gift thank you notes
- print up photo cards for thank you notes
- send thank you notes by thanksgiving
- get and read one or two stepmom-related books (maybe?)
- go out on a date with Jeff once a week
- choose pictures from the wedding to get as prints/album
- cut down on plastic use drastically
- investigate eco-friendly alternatives for home use

Reflections on Ritual and Offerings

A response to Bob's post on the DOTR Network about the role of offerings and other aspects of ritual.

I have to admit that I'd already seen that article, and it annoyed me. My honors thesis work was in ritual theory, so I have an academic background in the subject that focused not only on the religious/spiritual significance of ritual in various world traditions, but also on the socio-political and aesthetic aspects of ritual practice. Coming from that perspective, that article sounded to me an awful lot like someone who attended a ritual, felt uncomfortable with the social atmosphere or the particular aesthetics used, and so projected her discomfort onto the gods by claiming or warning that they would be displeased.

This is not the first time that a Heathen blogger on Patheos has made complaints about others "doing it wrong" when it comes to ritual. I'm not sure if this is a common theme among Heathens more than other Pagan traditions, or just a coincidence, but I know I have also talked with Heathens who see the purpose of offerings to the gods as a kind of appeasement to get the gods to leave them alone. One Heathen actually compared worshipping the gods to living in your parents' house - it's nice that they pay the bills and take care of most of the responsibilities, but that doesn't mean you want them hanging around getting into your business and it's better when they're content to leave you alone. This sounds like a pretty adolescent approach to me, honestly.

I think this is one of the big issues with ritual in Paganism, especially because the Pagan umbrella is so diverse and it sometimes doesn't share a theological perspective even among members of the same group. Without a foundation in theology of some kind, ritual can quickly devolve into superstition. There are many reasons why rituals can feel powerful or feel like failures, and they don't all have to do with whether or not you've authentically connected with Spirit or the gods. The emotional, psychological, aesthetic, social and even physiological aspects all play a role in addition to the spiritual. And discerning when authentic spiritual work has been done is something I think best left up to the group who has done the work to develop and engage with the ritual practice, rather than an outsider sitting in and making judgements.

That said, I think Blaidd brings up some really good questions in his post - the practical question of what is done with the offerings perhaps being one of the more important ones. It seems to me that if ritual and offerings is to avoid becoming mere superstition, then it must be all about relationship at its core. But that means it also can't be something as simple as "our ancestors were scared of the Sidhe, so they must be appeased so they don't cause trouble" - this seems about as disrespectful to me as it would be disrespectful and prejudiced to say, "Don't walk through that neighborhood; a lot of black people live there and my parents have always said black people are dangerous." I think in general, gods and other beings, and animals for that matter, are similar to human beings: when you approach with respect and kindness in the interest of being as open and attentive as you can to the needs and desires of the Other, whoever that other is, then you are far more likely to elicit respect and kindness in turn, and this eventually builds into a mutually loving relationship. It is in presuming a relationship or taking it for granted that the disrespect (and thus the danger) lies... but again, we can't always be the judge of how others' relationship with the gods expresses itself, either in ritual or in daily life.

Jeff and I already do offerings to our gods on a regular basis - pouring libations and burning incense are parts of my regular prayer/meditation routine, and we both wear certain symbolic pieces of jewelry and clothing that represent promises we have made to our deities or simply as a reminder to think of them and offer a prayer now and then. As part of my Flamekeeping shift with the Brigidine Cill I belong to, I tend a flame once every twenty days as part of my service to Brighid. And on major holy days, especially when we have the kids with us, we make ritual offerings of bird seed and such to the local woods (and wildlife) - and we also toss "silver in the water," coins into a small blue bowl of water on the altar, which Jeff and I then save up until we have enough to change in for money that we donate to a charity. Since we do much of this on our own, it's not a big deal to us if DOTR doesn't incorporate offerings into its group/public rituals. We have an established relationship with our gods, and if other gods are involved in a given ritual, we see it somewhat like going to a party at a friend's house and meeting their relatives - we're polite and respectful, but don't presume either any special relationship or any special attention as a result. (Of course, this can be a problem if the ritual involves gods that no one performing/attending the ritual actually does have a relationship with - because that's more like crashing someone else's party and expecting special treatment from the hosts.)

So those are my thoughts on the situation. Different situations will call for different types of ritual and offerings, and I see no reason why we can't continue to have public rituals open to anyone, as long as we don't treat the gods as "plug and play" components. Public rituals that involve offerings and prayers focused on the earth or the land can still be very effective without requiring a common agreed upon theology for the most part. But perhaps it would also benefit DOTR as a whole for regular members to help each other cultivate authentic relationships with the gods or beings that each members works with in their own practice as well as in group work?

Diary - Druidry and Environmentalism

Days of Note: New Field Poppy Moon

Sun: cancer (cardinal water), 5:53 AM - 8:54 PM
Moon: new moon, cancer (cardinal water), VoC
Earth: gorgeous, sunny, not to hot, clear and bright day, gentle breeze, couldn't be more perfect, really

Below is a response I posted to a thread about Druidry and Environmentalism on the TC Neo-Druidry SIG.

Druidry seems to have the reputation of being a "green" religion, taking a special interest in the natural world and our place in it. From ancient harvests of mistletoe from oak trees to modern celebrations of the solstice at Stonehenge, nature often plays a special role in how Druids see the world today.

Does environmentalism play a role in your Druidic path? How do you relate to nature, to both the environment around you and greater planetary concerns? Would you agree or disagree with the perception that Druidry is a "green" religion? Has increased nature awareness/environmentalism inspired you to make certain changes in your life (in your diet, recycling, spontaneous tree hugging, etc)?

Love this and the community service thread! Thanks for starting them. :)

I think you're right on the mark about Druidry's relationship to environmentalism. The Druid Revival began, along with the Romantic Period of the late 18th and early 19th centuries, at least in part in response to the Industrial Revolution and its dehumanizing, world-devouring influences. The Romantics (artists, poets, intellectuals, philosophers, etc.) were responding to the kind of Cartesian dualism that split the mind/spirit from the physical body and the material world. Valuing the aesthetic and spiritual qualities of the natural world was a big part of how they countered this dualism and sought to overcome it. I think these days folks have a tendency to dismiss Revival Druidry as "romanticism" (lower-case) as though to suggest that it's naively idealistic or inaccurate. There are some inaccuracies in it, of course, but Romanticism (upper-case) was a hugely important philosophical movement in the evolution of Western civilization, and modern day environmentalism and conservation (not to mention ecosophy and deep ecology, and even the scientific study of ecosystems to some extent) owe their existence to ideas first explored by the Romantics. If you really wanted to get technical, you could probably argue that any person today who uses the name "Druid" owes at least some thanks to the Romantics for their part in the revival of that spiritual archetype.

But it's not just Druidry's connection with the Romantics that suggests it has some "green" tendencies. From my understanding of ancient Celtic culture, the Celts tended to be much more concerned with the earth and (what we would call) "nature spirits" than some of the other ancient religious traditions of the time. In fact, that was one of the arguments the Romans used in support of their belief that the Celts were mere uncivilized barbarians - that they held their rituals outside among the trees in sacred groves and seemed to worship nature, instead of worshipping "proper" gods in elaborate temples full of refined sculptures. A deep connection with and respect for the natural world runs deeply through Celtic spirituality in general - and actually, it seems to me that the Wiccan focus on the natural world might actually stem from its early relationship (via Gerald Gardner and Ross Nichols) to Revival Druidry and Celtic spirituality. I think it's kind of a shame that some Reconstructionists I've met and talked to these days try to distance themselves from Wicca by dropping this nature-focus and focusing instead on polytheism as of primary importance. (That was actually a discussion we had on another thread, so I don't want to rehash it here! ;))

Personally, the focus on the natural world and environmentalism is so central to my understanding of Druidry, it's fair to say that it's the primary (if not entire) reason I became a Pagan to begin with. I had struggled all my life with the ambivalent role that nature and the earth played in Christianity, looking to saints like Francis of Assisi to try to ease my discomfort with how often world-denying the Christian tradition could be. In the end, though, it just wasn't enough - and when I discovered Druidry, it came as such a relief that here was a religious path where my love of the earth could take a central role. My relationship with the natural world and its wildernesses had always been my main way of connecting with the sacred, and here was a community where that was not only tolerated, but supported and encouraged! Fantastic! :)

My environmentalism has remained a central aspect of my Druidry ever since. My partner and I live very frugally and simply, to lessen our impact on the earth in every way we can. We do all the small stuff - washing our clothes in cold water, refusing to use the car unless absolutely necessary, walking or biking most places, eating a vegetarian diet of mostly local, organic foods, reducing our plastic use to almost nothing, composting in the backyard, etc. We also participate in local environmental activism when we can, and we try to get away into the woods of the local state park to camp at least every few months during reasonable weather. We also both write regularly to advocate for environmental awareness (I'm the blog project coordinator for No Unsacred Place). And since we're getting married in two and a half months, we've spent the past year planning a "green" wedding and we're going for Platinum Certification for our wedding through the Live Green Live Smart Institute.

But maybe one of the most important ways that we blend our environmentalism with our spirituality is by actually trying to cultivate and nurture our relationship with the local landscape. I've been studying deep ecology and eco-philosophy for the past year or so, and slowly been learning more and more about our bioregion and its needs and moods. My spiritual practice challenges me to move away from an anthropocentric worldview and learn to see the world and all its beings as part of a "ecology of Spirit," all interconnected and valuable in their own right.

Wow! I didn't mean for this to get so long! But it's such a great topic, and a really important one, too. :) Thanks again for starting the thread!

Follow-Up Letter to Mentor

B--,

Thanks so much for your response - and so quickly! I know you've been busy with your own work. :)

It's very reassuring to know that my variation/approach to the Three Realms Working practice is not only acceptable but welcome, and your description of how it fits in with the overall DOTR philosophy is refreshing. As you probably know, I've been stung before by banging heads a bit about "how things are done" within a certain Ancient Order That Will Not Be Named… One of the things I appreciate most about DOTR is the openness and flexibility - but not just in a wishy-washy kind of way that says, "We're accepting of everyone as long as you stay at 'newbie' level." That's something I have run into in other Druid groups, and it's made me a bit gun-shy about sharing some of my more in-depth thoughts. I know I can get very intense about my work, and sometimes that intensity can come off as over-bearing! So it really is a relief to be reassured on that matter and not feel pressure from DOTR to keep my enthusiasm in check lest I wander off the Approved Path. ;)

The points you brought up in your letter have given me a lot to think about. Your first point, about each of the Three Realms being connectors or bridges, is definitely something that resonates with my experience/understanding of them. To me, the Three are incredibly dynamic, though each in its own way, and they also all lead outward to each other even as you follow them more deeply inward… if that makes sense. So I think you're right that this is a key to my understanding, and keeping that in mind when trying to work with them in a "linear" meditative practice will definitely be helpful.

I think it's interesting that you said my description of Sea is almost completely metaphor compared to the other two Realms. I went back and reread what I wrote to see what you meant, and it seemed to me like they were all pretty evenly balanced (though maybe all of them tending a bit more towards the metaphorical). I remember when I was trying to articulate what I meant in the original letter that it actually helped a lot to go back and forth between my descriptions of each of the Realms looking for patterns of meaning as I wrote them out. I think your point about keeping the material realities of the Realms in mind is really important (and even though I'm, sadly, landlocked where I'm living right now, my dreams very often involve landscapes dominated by the ocean and the shoreline!)… But I wonder if the drought you're experiencing in GA means you're even more sensitive to the material reality of Sea in particular! :)

Your question about the gestures for the Three Realms practice is actually something I've been playing around with for a while, and still trying to work out. The way I do it right now (and it's been a while since I read the DOTR version, so I forget if this is basically the same or modified a little bit) is this:

- Begin with my hands resting lightly, palms down, on my knees (I almost always do this practice sitting cross-legged so that I can physically touch the ground/floor wherever I am).
- After centering through breath meditation, I lower my left hand to touch the ground to my left (palm down and flat), drawing up "blue" energy of the Sea to circulate through my body.
- When ready, with my left hand still touching the ground, I raise my right hand up above my head to my right (palm up and open, fingers extended upwards), drawing down "yellow" energy of the Sky to circulate through my body.
- When ready, I bring both hands together into namaste/prayer position just in front of my solar plexus (blending blue and yellow energy into the "green" energy of the Land).

After the Three Realms working, I sometimes move into another prayer honoring what ADF calls (I think) the "three hallows" of Tree, Fire and Well, using a prayer I adapted (though I forget from what source) and gestures I made to go with it. Either way, I end up in the namaste/prayer position at the end, and afterwards, I lower my hands again to rest, this time palms facing upwards, on my knees for any trance or energy work I'm doing for the session. If I don't do the Three Hallows prayer with gestures, then the energy from the Three Realms working I can either kind of "expand" into a surrounding, misty sphere (and then release/dissipate after my meditation) or I can direct it to a particular purpose/object for blessing/consecration or such.

I hope that gives you some idea of how it goes. :) If I remember right, the version in the Aspirant Lessons calls for turning in a circle at one point, but I've found that in our tiny apartment doing ritual work standing up and turning different ways just isn't practical (though if I'm directing the energy into an object, I will sometimes use the circular motion around it). I've also noticed that using the gestures with the left and right hands during the Three Realms working, the result of holding the position for any length of time is that my left arm (drawing up Sea energy) starts to feel loose and cool from resting relaxed, while my right arm (drawing down Sky energy) begins to feel tense and warm from the effort of holding my hand aloft. When I bring them together, my left hand feels warm to my right hand, and my right hand feels cool to my left hand (because blood has been leaving the right, raised up, and pooling in the left), so it's like a visceral, palpable experience of the energies mixing and exchanging.

And once again, it seems I've written a lengthy letter without meaning to! I hope this has been helpful for you - I know it has for me. :)

A few last things: Jeff's and my wedding will be in North Carolina, on the Outer Banks, on September 16, which is a Friday. It would be lovely if folks in the Order wanted to do a working to bless our marriage, and we would be very grateful! :)

Also, congratulations on the position at Cherry Hill Seminary! I definitely know about CHS (my friend, Cat, was heavily involved in its founding and early years). Every once in a while, I dream about applying to attend - especially once they get accreditation - but I always seem to have too much to do and not enough money. ;) If they're bringing you on and trying to incorporate Druidry a bit more into the curriculum, that sounds like something I'll definitely have to keep my eye on. I saw that you posted on the DOTR network about the course you're developing, so I'll go check that out - sometimes I think "intro" courses are the hardest ones to do, so I'm really interested in seeing what you do with it. :)

All right, that's all I have for now. Hope this letter wasn't too long!

Blessings,
Ali

Diary - Pilgrimage

Days of Note: Flamekeeping, Pilgrimage to the Angel Oak

Sun: gemini (mutable air), 6:15am - 8:19pm (Summerville, SC)
Moon: waning crescent, pisces (mutable water), VOC (through tomorrow evening)
Earth: another hot, sunny day down in South Carolina, with the air thick and muggy and a possible thunderstorm this afternoon (we can only hope); even when the sun is high, the sunlight is not the clear, bright sunlight of farther north, but a damper, heavier, somehow darker kind of light through which everything seems hazy - or perhaps it's only that even in the shade the heat dominates, so that nowhere is safe from the sunlight


Brigid always has a trick up her sleeve for me, it seems. I now have a Brigid's Cross burned between my breasts… or to be more precise, a pale uneven-cross of skin surrounded by the red-pink of sunburn. Last night at sundown when I began my Flamekeeping shift, I asked her to accept the gold Brigid's Cross pendant I always wear as a symbol of her flame because I could not keep a physical flame for her during this shift (even lighting a candle at all in our B&B room was technically not allowed, though I risked it for half an hour for my opening rite). The handmade flame pendant I usually wear is back home, embedded in wax where my usual Flamekeeping candle spilled over into the offering dish without my noticing. I'm not sure if I'll be able to get it out again without ruining it, since it didn't have any kind of protective finish on it, but in any case it was too late to try to salvage it just then when I was packing. I'm not sure if the sunburn is a sign of acceptance or a light slap on the wrist for not being better prepared to travel-while-Keeping. In any case, it wasn't entirely unexpected, considering we were out on the beach without sunscreen during the most intense part of the day….

I'm feeling slightly scatter-brained at the moment, which I expect is mostly from the heat and general late-afternoon fatigue. Both mornings we've been here now, we've been up at dawn to do some yoga and then gone running in the surrounding neighborhood, coming back to the B&B to shower and have a delicious breakfast downstairs. We're the only people in the house right now, though there's a man in the cottage apartment out in the backyard (we haven't seen him yet, but we've seen his car in the drive). We basically have this entire gorgeous French-style southern mansion to ourselves, and it's absolutely lovely. Getting out early in the morning to go running while it's still relatively cool (in the 70s) has me feeling so completely energized and fantastic, I'm hoping I can hold on to that habit when we get back home. Yesterday morning after a shower and breakfast, I spent some time in the lush, steamy garden in the back of the house while Jeff got some work done on the computer inside. I spent time in meditation sitting on a stone bench by one of the small fountains (guarded by a small moss-covered frog and a statue of the Amitabha Buddha).

This morning, though I was technically on Flamekeeping shift, I held off on my morning meditation because right after breakfast we made the hour-long drive to John's Island to see the Angel Oak tree. Last year we visited the tree on Earth Day in April, in the early evening just as the sun was in its golden hour (and the trip also happened to be during a Flamekeeping shift!). This year, we made it to the oak by mid-morning and again the sunlight was all golden and soft through the branches. There was hardly anyone around, and so Jeff and I split up and found spots to sit near the tree to do some meditation. The same feeling I had last year — of immensity and power and life-force emanating from the tree enough to make my heart quicken — was there again this morning. I noticed that the other tourists who wandered up to see the tree during our time there all had a tendency to lower their voices to a whisper, as if out of respect, and there was a natural hush about the place. Even though it's a tourist attraction now, it's hard for me to believe that it's not also a sacred place of power in spite of that. Even the way people arrived, a couple at a time but in a steady stream so that there was almost always at least one person around, a new person arriving just as the other was leaving, though you couldn't ever say the place was busy, and always it had that same hush and quiet and presence to it…. it almost seemed as though the tree were drawing people to it, few by few, like pilgrims attending to it, murmuring appreciative prayers of awe and praise. To sit under the tree for any length of time and watch this process was amazing, and just as it did last year, it left me with this strange sense that the tree was a sacred center or power or axis mundi around which the rest of the world turned, with us little humans coming to stand tiny at its feet and arrange our lives like love-worn dolls….

When we first arrived, a couple with a young toddler were just leaving and for a time we had the place all to ourselves. I sat at the base of the tree while Jeff wandered off somewhere else, and I sat in meditation for twenty minutes or so. First just breathing my awens and allowing myself to relax into the energy and presence of the place, then reaching out to perform (my version of) the DOTR Three Realms workings. The Tree as center and bridge between the watery depths of soul and the celestial heights of spirit was especially effective when I could feel the vast trunk of the Angel Oak behind me, lending support to my spine. During this meditation, my sense of grounding was so powerful, I felt as though I could sit there forever, still and unmoving, so solidly was I rooted in the earth. It's one of the most effective grounding experiences I've had in recent memory. I also experimented with Erynn Rowan Laurie's take on the Three Cauldrons meditation - though I used different hand gestures adapted from the "peace sign" meditation I'd been working on (with both hands placed on the ground to either side, then raised to the center in a namaste/prayer position, then raised up again — in this way, the gestures not only mimic a transformation of the peace sign from despair to rejoicing, but they also echo the Awen symbol in both invoking and evoking form).

A side note: part of me feels bad that I feel such an urge to adapt and change the practices I learn from others. Often the people teaching these techniques will say that they can be adapted or changed to suit personal approaches… but I often feel like this is more an attempt to be tolerant of diversity, and not really a whole-hearted encouragement to actually go about changing things. I do want to trust that certain ritual techniques have stood the test of time and have something to teach me… but it was easier to trust this way in Catholic rituals which really were hundreds, even thousands of years old. Druidry (and Paganism generally) is still so new, and there's a lot of variation in technique. I see similarities between different types of meditations and energy work that I can't overlook, and so these end up blending together in my practice to create rites and gestures that make sense to me. The way I perform a Three Realm Working is derived in part from Orion Foxwood's exercising in connecting to the local land (I forget its name at the moment), in which the "streams" from below and above are joined in the heart. It seems the Three Realms working is also similar to the ADF Two Powers meditation…. except in the Three Realms (both in the DOTR version and my adaptation) there is a blending of the two energies to create or express a third. I never quite understood why a tradition like ADF, with such emphasis on the three realms, the three hallows and other triads, would have a fundamentally dualistic meditative practice as a core technique…. connecting Earth and Sky, but where is Sea in this? This is the same trouble I had with the three Druidic elements in their relation to the four classical elements. If you can arbitrarily drop or add an aspect to a system, then it wasn't a stable or complete system to begin with. In the Three Realms, Land, Sea and Sky seem all to be of equal importance and significance…. and simply dropping Sea and connecting only to the other two doesn't make much sense to me. Similarly, dropping (or combining) Fire and Air from the four classical elements to get the three Druidic elements — as though they were nearly interchangeable otherwise — is deeply dissatisfying to me. So I have to figure out a way to make that change.

On the other hand, Erynn Rowan Laurie's Three Cauldron's meditation makes a lot of sense to me, with the Cauldron of Warming (being associated with the realm of land/earth and the Druidic element/principle of calas) the lowest of the three, the Cauldron of Motion (sea/gwyar) near the heart, and the Cauldron of Wisdom (sky/nwyfre) near the head/crown/third eye. This makes intuitive sense to me, and aligns pretty well with both T. Thorn Coyle's "three souls" meditation and with my Peace of the Three Realms meditation that I developed a few years ago (in which each of the… let's call them "cauldrons," though I originally called them simply "centers," are infused specifically with energies from the Three Realms in a kind of rippling out/up of energy). I don't have any struggle in figuring out why, during the Three Realms working, gwyar/sea is "below" and calas/land/tree in the center, while in the Three Cauldrons working this is reversed. It just… makes sense to me that way. Perhaps because the Three Realms working is a kind of orientation, connecting us with the Tree as axis mundi and bridge of soul and spirit… while the Three Cauldrons/Peace of the Realms practices are more about activating our own ("internal") energy centers. With this inner work, we naturally start from a "base line" of calas, the realm of land that we're so used to and probably most immediately connected to through our physical senses. From there, we kind of "drop" into the gwyar/emotional center of movement and exchange — that is, our experience of form and limit naturally gives rise to an urge to connect, and this is a kind of deepening at the same time that it's a rising up…. almost as though our heart calls our attention to it precisely at that moment when it is spilling over — we are called inward at the same time that we feel the ache of going outward. The final center of nwyfre/wisdom is an ascent to pure force and initiative, as well as breath. Both boundaries and the interweaving or connection of those boundaries are overcome or swept up in the unity of "oneness," to some extent.

I'm not at all convinced this makes much sense… I'll have to keep playing with these ideas. In any case, I'd like to find a way to integrate the Peace Prayer practice with the Three Realms working (and the Three Cauldrons practice as well, perhaps) in a way that leads naturally from one into the other without having to drastically altar the energies I'm working with for each one. ADF describes the Two Powers practice as like to "grounding and centering." I'm not sure which one people traditionally do first among other Wiccan/Pagan groups… but I always understood that centering was the first step (a kind of inward turning and cultivation of stillness and attention that was the prerequisite for any meditative work) and grounding was the second step, a moving outward again from that established center to "ground" that center in the living earth, as though planting a seed, or the moment when that seed germinates and sends out roots. In any case, it always seemed to me an inward/outward movement of focus, rather than an up/down focus the way the Earth/Sky approach suggests. In my own practice, I've gotten so used to centering and grounding that I hardly notice it as an initial step before my other meditation work. I center through some meditative breathing, cultivating a stillness between breaths (which the awen breath can be particularly helpful for), and then reach out to ground myself in the earth and further open myself to the living presences around me. In this sense, then, centering/grounding is a first step, and the natural next step after grounding (reaching out to the earth surrounding me — for we do not only live "on" the earth, but more precisely we live in it, surrounded by its landscapes and climates) is to begin (my version of) the DOTR Three Realms working. When we ground, like a tree putting down roots and sending up shoots, we are not seeking merely earth beneath us… we are seeking the water and the exchange of nutrients below, and the sunlight and air that fuels us from above. These we transform into the living matter of our bodies. So the Three Realms working is a natural follow-up to the centering/grounding opening work.

In that case, then, the Peace of the Realms and the Three Cauldrons meditations are not so much about who we are or where we locate/orient ourselves in the currents of the world… but more about what we do in the world, how we approach our activity. Once we center and ground ourselves in our enspirited-bodies, then what is it we do with those bodies? Finding our foundation, cultivating our work and releasing our love-guided efforts into the world (or warming, motion and wisdom) are the three processes or activities we undertake. They may have affinities with the Three Realms… but they are not merely equivalent. Which is why the Peace of the Three Realms actually "activates" each of the three realms or their currents/elements/principles in each of the three activity centers. So if this is the case.. then a natural order to the practices would be: starting with centering and grounding, then the Three Realms working to orient and establish our selves within the three realms of the world, then the Three Cauldrons meditation to "activate" or energize the three "centers" or cauldrons within the self, then the Peace of the Three Realms prayer to articulate and express the purpose towards which those three center of activity might be directed.

I'll have to experiment with this order to see how it works in practice as well as in theory… but I'm actually quite pleased with this approach. It makes some gut-level sense to me, and incorporates at least some sources of legitimate ancient Celtic culture. I would want to read more about the Cauldron of Poesy text that Erynn Rowan Laurie mentions, if only to seek out some confirmation of this approach.

It seems to be almost 8 PM now and I've been writing for at least two hours…. I had more to talk about, but my shift is coming to an end, so I should probably wrap things up. I'm feeling especially tired and I should probably be sure to drink some more water and apply some more aloe gel to my burn so I'm not regretting my silliness in the morning.

It occurs to me that I forget to explain how I got the sunburn! After staying by the Angel Oak for an hour or two, we thought we would try to find the nearest public beach access, which ended up being Folly Beach. We spent about an hour strolling along the shore, feet in the warmest ocean water lapping up around our calves. Before finally returning to the car, I waded out deeper until I was standing in waters mid-thigh and waves were getting the hem of my sundress damp. By that point, though, I'd already been out long enough to get a burn on my shoulders and chest. We're thinking of going back to the beach tomorrow, after spending a morning in Charleston looking at all the ancient homes built right up on the shoreline by slave labor (Jeff's love of this beautiful human tragedy reminds me of that Doctor Who episode, Blink: "Sad is like happy for deep people.")

We'll see. Tomorrow we're taking a day off from running, though we're hoping to still do some sun salutations to great the new day. It's Jeff's birthday, so we'll have an official day off to do whatever we want before heading back to Pittsburgh on Friday. I may or may not have a chance to write again before we get back home. We'll see.

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]

DOTR Lesson 4: Air

Sun: taurus (earth/fixed), 6:07am - 8:26pm
Moon: waxing gibbous, virgo (earth/mutable)
Earth: gorgeous and sunny, bright morning, with an afternoon getting up near 80º with thundershowers

I've done a pretty poor job of keeping up with this diary over the past month or so, but that doesn't mean I haven't continued my spiritual work, as well as work more specifically pertaining to DOTR. Sometimes it's difficult to remember to journal here, just because so much of my work seems to tie back in to my spiritual life and path in one way or another, though perhaps not always in clearly definable ways. In any case, I just finished some meditation on Air (for Lesson 3), and I wanted to spend some time noting a few important bits. But (as to be expected, I suppose), I'm feeling a bit "air headed" and scatter brained at the moment, so don't expect too much coherence.

First, a reflection on Air as an element. On Monday morning, I sat outside and did a simple ritual of meditation and connection with the element of Air (though, thanks to the brilliant weather we've been having, I also made passing acquaintance with Fire in the form of sunlight and, subsequently, sunburn). I haven't been keeping up with my meditation as much as I would like, and there have been plenty of things to distract me (more on that later), so I wasn't able to sink deeply into trance or anything like that. But rather than force it, I simply allowed myself to spend time with the element as it expressed itself in my immediate landscape. I felt the breeze on my skin, listened to it play through the wind chimes in the backyard, and watched as it moved the spiraling incense smoke this way and that, turning first away from me, then surrounding me, then lifting up to disappear into the air above me.

Sitting inside this morning to do meditation, I again watched the incense and not for the first time marveled at how solid the forms of smoke seemed, how they kept their shape (though that shape was definitely mutable and spiraling and every-changing) and I could watch one bend or curl of smoke as it wafted on its own unique journey through the barely moving currents of air in the room until it slowly faded — not so much dissipating as simply disappearing, fading away.

This brings my mind back to the relationship between the four classical elements (earth, air, fire and water) and the three Druidic elements of nwyfre, gwyar and calas. In JMG's Druidry Handbook, I always found the explanation rather dissatisfying. It seems to me that these three v. four are distinct systems of understanding the world, with their own implications, and if that's true then one should be able to bring them to bear on one another. Instead, in the Handbook, the four seem simply an extension of the three — so that the implication is the three are somehow incomplete — and nwyfre seems to morph and change not in any essential way, but more as a matter of convenience, taking on whatever extra role seems necessary. Really, the three Druidic elements as JMG presents them seem like a hobbled version of the four classical elements, less like a three-legged stool than a four-legged chair you've taken a saw to. In our teaching work with Savanah, Jeff and I have tried to develop both an understanding of the three elements as complete in themselves, and an understanding of how the four elements can be understood in relation to the three. Anyone who talks to a twelve year old probably knows that you need to know your shit and have your explanations clear if you want to escape endless scrutiny. It took a while to explain why gwyar was different from water, for instance, and calas not quite the same as earth, and so on. But it's been helpful work, and has forced me to articulate some things in my own approach.

The approach I use now is that the three Druidic elements can be understood as guiding principles or aspects of the world. I understand them, most simply, as form, flow and force (for calas, gwyar and nwyfre). Thus, calas is the principle of form, manifestation, boundaries, limits, distinction and individuality. Gwyar is the principle of flow, exchange, movement, communication, connection and freedom. And nwyfre is the principle of force, energy, initiative, desire (and repulsion), drive and life-force in the kind of spiritual sense. Each of these describes aspects that can be found in absolutely everything in the physical (and nonphysical) world.

How do these relate to the four classical elements of earth, air, fire and water? Here I borrow an understanding from astrology (and as I study more, the more I see how much insight this approach has to offer!). The three Druidic elements can be likened to the three qualities in astrology known as cardinal (corresponding in my understanding with nwyfre), mutable (with gwyar) and fixed (with calas) — for each of the twelve zodiac, a sign is a combination of one of these three aspects with one of the four classical elements. Thus, you have Taurus as fixed earth while Virgo is mutable earth, Leo is fixed fire while Aries is cardinal fire, and so on. The three combined in this way with the four create twelve, each with its own particular expression. Taking a cue from astrology then, I see the three Druidic elements as principles or aspects, and I see the four classical elements as qualities or "building blocks," so to speak. Each of the four classical elements has a quality to it that can be expressed by any of the three principles. Thus earth is dark, cool, dry and heavy; air is bright, light, hot and moist; fire is bright, light, hot and dry, water is dark, cool, moist and heavy. These combination of qualities mean each element has particular associations as well — times, places, objects, tools and other symbols that best exemplify or embody the quality particular to that element. (So, for instance, the seasons: spring as warm and moist, summer as hot and dry, fall as cool and moist, winter as cold and dry.)

But the key here is that each of the elements can be expressed through any of the principles represented by the three Druidic elements. Thus, we can have fire as a quality expressed in calas - that principle of a physical fire which gives it shape and definition in our experiential engagement, which imbues it with a kind of perceivable form, that gives it an edge and a boundary. Fire expressed in gwyar is the process of combustion and consumption, the transformation of fuel into flame through a reaction and exchange. Or, another example, earth in calas is, most simply, the material world itself, all around us, which we experience as a realm of form and manifestation, full of distinct entities with limits, boundaries that bump up against one another. Earth expressed by the principle of nwyfre, on the other hand, is the urge in Spirit itself to manifest through form and limit. It is the spark, the initiative, the force of life that gives rise to form, that seeks to consolidate itself into particular organized entities. It is the energy of nwyfre expressed through the quality of darkness and opacity and heaviness.

These are just preliminary thoughts, and I have work to do to tease out the details and how each combination really works. Some qualities (four elements) seem to have particular affinity with certain principles (three elements). (For instance, the element of water is deeply related to the element or principle of gwyar.) So one thing I want to do during this time of revisiting the four elements through the DOTR work is to explore how each of the four elements is expressed or exemplified or affected by the three Druidic elements as principles of being. I'm hoping my divination work will help with this as well. Not only do I plan to keep studying astrology during this time, but I'm also looking into Erynn Rowan Laurie's book on the ogham, in which she talks about using three full sets (of 20) for three "currents" — chthonic, oceanic and celestial — corresponding to the three realms. My understanding of the three Druidic elements of calas, gwyar and nwyfre is that they also correspond to the three realms… though exactly how they correspond is something I'm still working out, and some of it will depend on my deeper research into this approach to ogham.

In particular, on that note, I find myself wavering between associating calas or gwyar with the chthonic/earthy realm. My two patron deities, Brigid Star Fire and Manannan, seem to dwell in tension with each other, with Brigid very much a deity of sky and the celestial, while Manannan is not only a deity of the ocean, but of the depths and the darkness, so that he also seems connected to the "underground" (as well as the mists that rise from the earth to obscure our way, and the rain that pours from the sky and soaks into the earth, seeking its depths). This is another issue that I have with the DOTR Three Realms practice itself. Maybe because of my aesthetic sense of my need for balance (or because I am overly analytical about these things) — I find myself wanting to reach down to connect with "water" (or more specifically, with gwyar) below instead of with "earthy" aspects associated with calas and the land. For me, the blue, deep, dark, heavy, moist, watery qualities below can then be brought into relationship with the yellow, high, bright, light, dry, fiery celestial energies of nwyfre above…. mixing and mingling and expressing themselves in the green aspects of calas and the land, the realm of form and manifestation.

The tree then, a mighty presence of the land, is a symbol of that bridge and that relationship — reaching its branches and leaves up into the sky for sunlight and air, and reaching its roots deep into the earth in search of water and nutrients…. at both these extremes, you have fluidity, exchange, change and a kind of blurring of boundaries, a liminality where Tree merges with that which is seeks. And then, having received the gifts of the heights and the depths, the fire and the water, these extremes, opposites, are integrated and brought into relationship in such a way that you have the "middle earth," the land we walk upon as a meeting place of these other realms, the realm of unique manifestation and expression, individuality and boundaries. The individual can be lost in the mysteries of the depths just as in the celestial mysteries — there is a dark mysticism as well as a bright mysticism. But the "real world" of sensual, sensory experience, where we know ourselves as distinct entities for the most part (only sometimes sinking into depths or rising to heights where we forget our "selves" completely in union with something greater)… that's the realm of calas, of the land, and the Tree. It seems to me that a daily spiritual practice works best (in my experience, anyway) when it teaches us how to bring the more liminal, fluid mysteries of the depths and the heights and integrate them and express them in the everyday world around us. In Kabbalism, as I understand it, there's the idea of climbing up the tree to reach those heights, and then bringing that energy back down "the lightning strike zigzagging through the ten sefirot. But in this idea, the tree not only reaches up towards the celestial, but down as well, into the depth and darkness of the "underworld," and that energy and experience is brought into relationship from both directions into a center. (Plus, blue + yellow = green, duh!)

Is this "underworld" of watery depths and darkness most appropriately called "chthonic"? I'm not sure — I haven't ever used that term much. Perhaps "oceanic" makes more sense, especially since we tend to think (even if just metaphorically) of the lands kind of "floating" on the oceans (and understanding the underground lakes and rivers, the moistness of caves, and even the liquid molten rock below the earth's crust, it makes a kind of literal sense as well). If that's the case, then, does chthonic fit well with the idea of the Tree as bridge between celestial and oceanic, and the land as a kind of "middle ground" where these two Mysteries are brought into manifestation? I can't answer that, because I don't know enough about what the word "chthonic" is supposed to imply (though my first instinct is to answer no, it doesn't quite fit). Still, the relationship between "fire" and "water" (not as elements, now, but as symbols or representatives of the realms, I guess) is something that seems to rest at the core of my Celtic spirituality…. So it's worth exploring. Perhaps I'll tidy this up a bit and post it to the DOTR group blog for some feedback.

This became a long, rambling exploration in a rather more abstract way than I'd originally intended. This was all sparked by my observation during meditation of the way the incense smoke hung together, spiraling around itself — or, the other day, cast shadows on my arms and chest as I sat in the sunlight — bringing to mind again that this smoke, and the air currents themselves, are still very much expressing themselves in calas. The air currents, though they seem invisible to the human eye, are just as distinct, real things as fire or earth (or water and its slightly less invisible currents). To the birds who fly through the air, or the dogs and other animals navigating by scent, the currents of air are palpable presences, distinct bodies with their own boundaries. A story David Abram tells in his book, Becoming Animal, illustrates this point nicely — he describes one time watching ducks flying into a hard wind, dipping here and there, testing to find the edges of the strongest current of air and where there were slips and gaps in the wall of wind coming at them that they could push their way through. For the ducks, the air was as solid and bounded a thing as the landscapes of hills and valleys, forests and fields that we walk through, looking for our own slips and gaps to help us make our way. So air has expression in calas, in the realm of form and manifestation. The invisible, the unseen still has an active presence in and engagement with the manifest world. And as I watched the incense smoke, I understand that the element of Air, too, has its limits and boundaries.

I did want to talk a little bit about some other work I've been doing, but it seems that most of the morning has passed while I've been writing this (and I haven't even done a tarot card reading!). So I'll wrap things up here and maybe come back to it later. I am going to try to be more diligent in writing down these various reflections and experiences. I swear!

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.

Diary

Days of Note: Brigantia Ritual with Sassafras Grove

Sun: aquarius (air/fixed), 7:26am - 5:43pm
Moon: waxing crescent, pisces (water/mutable)
Earth: chilly and rainy, gray, much of the snow melting away leaving behind slick ice and patches of old, dead grass

I have decided to cease updating this diary on a daily basis. Although it was a practice recommended by DOTR as part of their aspirant work, I have found pretty consistently that it was leading me to a place of frustration and blockage. I'm sure the daily diary wasn't the only source of these feelings, but beyond a doubt it contributed. The process of sitting down to list out the thoughts and activities of each day, for weeks on end, often left me feeling as though I were being scrutinized under a microscope, each day analyzed for its valuable or important content (and, more often than not, coming up lacking). The practice was, at least for me, one that was overly analytical — in the original sense of the word, as the opposite of synthesis, meaning to "break apart" or to separate out and make judgements. The etymological roots of "analysis" also have to do with "setting free, loosening," and for some people I'm sure that this kind of practice, with its simple daily structure, could do just that. (It seems like the kind of thing that Jeff would appreciate and enjoy doing.) But for me, I long for the composition of "synthesis," and the silence of the space-between the moments of that process. Trying to keep a brief diary structure every day kept me stuck in a hamster wheel of analysis while still failing to give me the space to compose my thoughts and feelings and express them as fully as I wanted. I don't think I would have been comfortable rambling on in this way about a subject seemingly tangential to the purpose of this diary, for instance, in the old format.

So the daily diary format recommend by DOTR just does not work for me. I have been keeping a journal of one kind of another for most of my life now, starting back in middle school at the recommendation of one of my mother's friends (who was a school counselor). The practice comes and goes, and when I look back I have only a patchwork record of my life, most of it boring or silly, or both. I admit, the idea of creating a daily record of events and thoughts appealed to my intellectual side — being able to look back over the course of a year and look for coincidences and patterns seemed fascinating. But in the end, the effort of creating such a record would defeat its purpose. Since taking up the practice, most of my entries have focused on feelings of frustration and restriction. The days when I've been most alive and eager have been those days when I most wanted not to bother with the diary. (This is how it often goes, I've heard.) But that's how it should be. We shouldn't necessarily want a nice and accurate daily record of life — we don't experience it that way, and we don't remember it that way. Trying to keep such a record is almost entirely future-focused: it's an activity you do now so that you can benefit from it in the future. There's not anything wrong with that per se, but I was finding that it interfered with my ability to ground myself in the present. Since making the decision about a week ago to officially "give it up," I find myself feeling much freer and more relaxed about the structure of my days. There is not so much a push to Accomplish Great Things, and so my days are quieter and gentler and a little bit more playful. Sometimes, that's exactly what I need. I am not a machine. Not every day will be interesting or full of relevance. I'm okay with that.

But I do want to continue to use this diary as a place to chronicle my progress through the DOTR Aspirant lessons which, feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, I stopped pursuing for the last several weeks. Now, feeling grounded in the present and freed from constant self-consciousness about my days, I feel up to the task of returning to that work.

I also want to include in this the developing aspects of my relationship with Brigid Star Fire, and the online "Lady of the Stars" group that has grown up in response to her inspiration. That was an unpredicted event, but one that I am so grateful for — being involved in this group has continued to strengthen my relationship with her and give me many opportunities to explore her Mysteries. I will probably be writing a longer entry on this some time in the near future, I hope.

I also want to note in this diary whatever other Druidry-related activities or events are going on in my life. For instance, tonight I am planning to attend the Brigantia Ritual being hosted by the Sassafras Grove, the local ADF grove in Pittsburgh. This will, for all intents and purposes, be my first non-festival, non-family group ritual as a Pagan. Most of my work until now has been solitary, or working with Jeff and the kids in small family rites on the solar and fire festivals throughout the year. When Jeff and I attended the Festival of Lights (I think that was its name?) with Cat and Peter up in Massachusetts last year, we participated in the large group ceremony that opened the festival weekend — but in my mind, that hardly counts as an actual ritual, since it was mostly all of us standing in a crowded conference room while a few people spoke prayers or songs of welcome. To me, it's not a real ritual without a few candles and some incense, at least. (Years ago, I also attended a summer solstice ritual with a group of eclectic Pagans in the woods — but I attended as an academic researcher and "token Christian" then, so... not quite the same.)

Which means tonight, I'll be attending my "first" group ritual with fellow Druids. I am actually quite nervous about it (had a dream last night about almost everything going wrong: getting lost, forgetting my offerings, not being able to dress appropriately, etc.), mostly because I'm shy in person and tend to clam up around strangers. I'm not sure what to expect. I've been wanting to start making contacts in the local community for a long time now, and looking at Sassafras Grove in particular as one of the most active Druid groups around, and well connected within ADF. But their public rituals throughout the year have largely focused on Norse or Saxon pantheons, and their workshops and discussion groups have been scheduled during times when I couldn't go (or didn't know about them until too late). Even this ritual is dedicated to Brigantia — Brigid in her Romano-Celtic context — which is not often how I work with her. But then, I work with her in a way that is probably fairly unique and not necessarily supported by current academic research. (She's not exactly known as a Star Goddess.) But I decided that I could spend a lot of time coming up with reasons why the Sassafras Grove wasn't a good fit, lots of reasons why they don't do things quite the way I would.... in the end, these were just excuses to stay in my solitary practice instead of reaching out to make contact and forge connections. In honor of Brigid, and her holy day of Imbolc, a day of new beginnings and coming spring, I thought it would be a good time to suck it up and face my nerves.

So I will also be updating this diary about my ritual and meditative experiences, as a way to process my experiences and sift through the thoughts, feelings and spiritual shifts that arise because of them. I hope that I'll be attending more group events in the future. If and when I do, I'll be writing about them here.