Flamekeeping Shift: Intense Dreams

My flamekeeping shift started at sunset last night.

I've been having intense dreams for the past several nights, though most of them have been of a mundane nature. Last night I had two intense dreams.

The first, there was fire and a presence in the heavens, a great god whose laughter mingled with the long rumbling of thunder. Everyone was terrified. The sky was bright, too bright — the white, rolling clouds parted here and there to reveal impossible liquid-fire light beyond them, golden tongues licking the mist-curled sides of each billow of cloud. Lightning dropped like rain, jagged liquid fire, thick and slow, not the usual quick and thin streak of electricity but something else. Some people said it was Jesus. The mighty presence laughed. I recognized some Pagans among the panicked crowds, making offerings and kneeling in supplication to Zeus or Thor. The god laughed again, turning his attention to fall on them like liquid lightning. Squealing, they dodged out of the way as the fire fell, impacting the earth with a huge roar and a blaze springing up where they had stood. Terror ran through me, a fear welling almost to an ecstasy. The god drew spiraling lines in the earth, trailing fingers of lightning along the ground until the rocks trembled and buckled, scorched scars raised in long lines almost as though some burrowing animal were tunneling just beneath the topsoil, pushing up its trail. The liquid-fire lightning dragged along, raising spiraling welts on the earth as people dodged out of the path. The lightning turned and danced, and I found myself caught between converging lines with nowhere to go. I stood rooted in place, willing every part of me — from bone, blood and breath to soul itself — into complete stillness, waiting for the moment of convergence. Then there in front of me was a man, wild grin shining and a noise like thunder. It was — gods forgive me — the Tenth Doctor. (Not actually him, in the dream, but his look — my mind probably seeking for some visual representation of the mingled terror and adoration I was feeling.) I trembled, saying, "But... I know you." And the implication of recognizing this god with a kind of terrifying intimacy bordering on triumph. Somehow, I communicated to him, "You're scaring people, you have to go." He offered me the body of a serpent, bloody and skinned, its scaled hide sparkling with a myriad diamond jewels in the impossible light and the length of its body cut into chunks of wet, red flesh with the white, round center of its spine peeking through the mess. I breathed, and said, "No, I don't eat meat," to the horror of those around me, who were bowed down to the ground and weeping in fear, unable to imagine refusing the god anything. The god laughed again, uproariously, and then he was gone just as suddenly, the whole scene settling like dust into a quiet stillness. And I looked down to see that I was holding a plastic bag full of wet, juicy honeydew melon chunks (one carved in the shape of the serpent's head).

I woke up at this point in a lot of pain, with my legs twitching terribly, and it took a long while to fall back asleep again. Once I did, I had a second dream.

Not as detailed as the first. I was in a cart, somewhat like a cross between a roller coaster car and an open-topped railway train car, with rows of bench seats across it with seat belts. There were carts in front and behind mine, too, in a long chain and the train seemed to be underground in a long, dark tunnel with rough, earthy or rocky sides. The dream is only vague impressions for a while — there were many people in all these carts, loading and unloading as the train went back and forth along the line making stops, and many of the people seemed somewhat young, though not exactly children. I remained on the train the whole time, never getting off, and almost always sitting alone on the bench seat as people shuffled around me. Then, at one point, a man sat down next to me — I could best describe him as a stereotypical redneck hick — his hair was blond and short, cropped in a kind of bowl cut with bangs hanging down across his forehead, and he had large teeth and an overbite, barely a chin to speak of, and when he spoke he had an obnoxious stereotypically southern accent that seemed at once idiotic and overly cheerful. But his eyes seemed sharp and intelligent. He sat down next to me, and again there was a sense among everyone around me that this was somehow an honor bestowed on me. Everyone around treated him with a great deal of respect, almost reverence, and deferred to him as a kind of leader. I found, mingling with my distaste for him, a vague sense of familiarity, as though this were some kind of disguise that he was wearing. Again, the dream was only vague for a time, with the sense that we were about the embark on a much longer journey, not the same shuffling back and forth between the same few stops, and that this man next to me was somehow in charge of the journey or leading it. I noticed he wore a blue coat with a few metal pins and sewn-on patches and stripes here and then, almost like a military uniform though I didn't recognize it at all. It seemed too big for him, sticking out at the shoulders, so that he seemed like a child wearing his father's clothes, but there was still that intelligent look in his eye and a sense of authority that he carried about him. We were moving along on the journey now, people settled into their seats, and the tunnel beneath the earth seemed to stretch on in front of us forever with no light in sight except for the torch lights mounted every once in a while that passed us as we moved. The man acted towards me as though we knew each other and were good friends, and I had that vague sense of familiarity (though I was out of the dream enough that I couldn't place why I felt I recognized him). As we moved, the train sped up, faster and faster, and suddenly there was a great lurch as though we'd been struck from behind. The man next to me stood up in his seat, gazing back into the darkness past all the other carts, and his face changed briefly, the expression of soft, cheerful idiocy replaced by a hard, intelligent, penetrating look as though the disguise for an instant had fallen away and the full power of his presence came through. I felt, then, that we were good friends, that I did know him (though I still couldn't say how or from where) and that I trusted him completely. He dropped back down into his seat next to me and whispered that a great serpent was following us, quickly catching up to the train. If people realized what was happening, they would start to panic. He was able to call up or get in touch with the person at the very front of the train and instruct them to veer off the track as we passed an opening in the tunnel — because of his inexplicable authority, nobody argued with him. We veered and suddenly the train was plunged into an icy underground river, the carts now floating like boats or rafts all chained together in a long line. The wheels churning the water beneath the carts sped us onwards, faster and faster, taking twisting turns and bends in the rocky tunnel, now without any light but a kind of eerie very dim blue light that seemed to infuse the air and come from everywhere and nowhere. Behind us, the huge serpent was gaining on us and people were beginning to panic. Its eyes glinted like sharp blades in the darkness, its forked tongue flicking, its massive body writhing in the waters behind us.

I feel as though something happened then in the dream, just before I woke up, but it's gone now, I can't remember it. I don't remember waking up frightened at all, though there was a lot of energy coursing through me. I wish I knew who the man was, or what happened at the end of that second dream. It's no coincidence, I think, that both dreams involved a serpent, as well as other people who were in danger and frightened. But I'm not sure I know what either of the dreams mean.

Diary - Brighid, Lady of the Stars

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

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

S--,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--Ali

Savanah's Year: Nwyfre of Earth, Calas and Gwyar of Water

I thought my neglect of keeping notes on our lessons with Savanah was bad back in January, and it's been months since I last updated about our progress! Granted, partly that's because we haven't been able to have regular lessons with her for some of these weeks because of scheduling, work conferences, kids' recitals and so on. But for the past two weeks (last Sunday and today) we've been able to get back into it.

Our final week of Gwyar of Earth work, we focused on the seasonal cycle of the year and the relationship between the sun and the earth in creating the seasons. We spent quite a bit of time talking about the difference between the Fire Festivals and the Solar Festivals and how they embody different ways of relating to the sun, as well as comparing these holy days to the Wiccan sabbats and exploring the differences and similarities. We talked about the cycle of the seasons as a metaphor for birth, growth, maturity, death and rebirth both in the human life cycle and also in how we approach our goals and dreams, taking time to plan and prepare for each stage and doing work that reflects the needs and energies of that stage. For her journal, we asked her to label a diagram of the wheel of the year with the different holidays and write a little blurb about each of them. We also had her pick out two more objects for her altar: one representing the sun itself, and one representing the current season. (To be honest, it was so long ago that I can't remember which objects she chose. I do remember being very impressed by the intuitive nature of the object she chose for the sun, but can't for the life of me remember what it was.) For that week's activity, we asked her to do a creative project to symbolize the wheel of the year and the cycle of the seasons. She used a new Christmas gift to make a woven bracelet with different colored beads representing the four seasons.

During February, we moved on to Nwyfre of Earth and introduced Savanah to the basic practices of breath meditation, centering and grounding. We began by learning about the physical breath and how it connects us to the world around us in the most intimate and immediate way. We began to connect the idea of the physical breath with the sense of life-force and spirit expressed through the elemental principle of nwyfre, and discussed how the way we breathe (fast or slow, heavy or shallow, etc.) can give us insight into how we are feeling, and help us to calm down and feel better when we're feeling upset. We asked her to journal answers to some simple questions about the relationship between breath and self-awareness (the directed questions that provide a review of our conversations during the lesson are turning out to work really well), and for her activity we taught her the simple breath meditation of bringing focus to the physical sensations of your own breathing (as a first step towards more complex practices). The following week, we moved on to the practice of centering. We discussed the idea of our "spiritual center" as similar to your "center of balance" and talked about different techniques to use to help find your center, that "still place of peace" between breaths. Her activity for the week was to practice the centering meditation and answer some questions in her journal about what the practice was like, how it helped her or what made it seem difficult, etc. The following week, we moved on to grounding, with a brief meditation I wrote using a stone from her altar (as well as some Awen chanting — I feel a bit bad because we didn't take much time to actually talk about Awen itself, since she was already familiar with it from participating in Druid rituals in the past). We discussed how grounding provides us with a connection to both the realm of the gods and the "underworld" realm below us, like a try reaching our limbs into the sky seeking sunlight as well as reaching our roots down into the earth to find stability and nourishment. We talked about the idea of energy exchange, and how grounding can help us release anxiety or anger that is hindering or hurting us, as well as draw energy and support from the earth when we are feeling weak or tired. The grounding exercise was her activity for the week, with some more questions for journaling about the experience and how she felt about it.

Throughout March and April, for the most part we took a break from lessons. The stellium in Aries meant both Jeff and I were kind of going nuts with energy, and work and other commitments dominated our time so that weekends left us pretty wiped. We did have a chance towards the beginning to get into the next month of work, Calas of Water, which was dedicated to learning about communication, connection and emotion in different practices and beliefs of Druidry, specifically through the forms and structures of storytelling, mythology, poetry and music. The first week, we talked about ancient myths and fairytales and how they were used to pass on important ideas and information about the people and the land. We talked a little bit about how stories don't just give us information, but actually give us insight into a whole perspective or worldview. To demonstrate this, we asked Savanah for her weekly activity to choose a myth or fairytale she knew and rewrite it from the point of view of one of the minor characters. The next week, we didn't have time for a full lesson, but we did go over her work — her story was excellent, a retelling of the story about the boy who has to face a giant (I forget the name of it) told from the point of view of the bird he caught. Very creatively done!

Last week, we finally got back on track and combined the last two weeks of Calas of Water work to talk about poetry and music together. This worked out well and tied back into the work on mythology that we'd done previously (so it provided a good refresher) — we told the story of Amergin and the Milesians coming to Ireland and winning the land from the Tuatha de, and read her a (translated) version of the Song of Amergin where he sings to the land to praise and honor her. This provided an excellent example of the blurred lines between myth, poetry and music, and we talked about using "concrete sensory details" in power to give our language power and to evoke feelings and ideas without explaining them in the abstract. We then played her the song, "I Am," by the group Beltaine's Fire, which is a song both praising poetry and rhyme as tools for learning and memory, and also drawing on and re-imagines the Song of Amergin, providing another connection. I spent a lot of time talking about how the vibration of music in our bodies — especially when we sing together or dance to and play music — connects us in a very physical, literal way, making our bodies vibrate in harmony. (This idea seemed to impress Savanah quite a bit, because she asked me if I had memorized my "speech" or just knew it off the top of my head!)

This week we moved ahead into Gwyar of Water and our exploration of dreams, divination and visualization meditations as ways that we can communicate and connect with our subconscious mind, the gods, ancestors and spirits of the land. We'd asked Savanah to keep a dream journal for the past week, so we spent some time going over the dreams she remembered and what they might mean, how they made her feel, etc. We talked about dream interpretation more generally and how the subconscious mind often uses symbols, images and emotions to communicate indirectly, instead of spelling everything out for us logically and rationally. We talked a bit about how dreaming helps us to integrate our waking experiences more deeply into who we are (like water churned up by activity slowly settling and becoming clear again during a period of rest), and that's why we might have dreams about activities that are either new to us or dominated the time we were awake on a particular day.

We also discussed divination techniques and how they worked, using very similar images and symbolic associations as dreams do. (This was originally going to be week two for this month's lessons, but we won't be seeing them next weekend and we're still trying to play catch up, so in order to give her enough work to do during that extra week we decided to introduce the idea of divination now and continue to expand on it when we see her again). Savanah is still struggling to believe that she is capable of doing the work we ask her to do, and will panic (or exaggerate her anxiety) whenever we suggest something that might be a challenge — to overcome this during this lesson, I asked her to try to think of five different divination techniques that she knew of just from reading books and seeing movies and talking to people. Sure enough, she was quickly and easily able to list off five: tarot, runes, palm reading, tea leaves and crystal balls. We talked about how each of these techniques worked, what you did, and why that approach was able to put you in touch with your nonrational/subconscious mind (or the gods — I think when we return to this subject, we'll focus more on how the gods come into it). We also talked about the larger categories that these specific divination techniques fell into and what other types would be included (for instance, looking for shapes in clouds, entrails or even ugly wallpaper is similar to tea leaf reading; gazing into water or a black mirror or even a thumb nail is similar to using a crystal ball, ogham is similar to using runes, etc.).

For her activities for the next two weeks, we've made recordings of the centering/grounding exercise from the Nwyfre of Earth lessons for her to listen to, so that she can practice these meditation techniques each morning. Jeff also gave her a longer relaxation/visualization guided meditation to do next week before she goes to bed in the evening, to get her used to the technique of visualizing before we move on to the third week of this month's lesson. In addition, we've asked her to do three tarot readings using her tarot deck (asking whatever questions she wants and coming up with her interpretations of the cards before looking in the book for their "official" meanings). And lastly, we've asked her to keep on recording her dreams in her journal as well, and to answer a few journaling questions next week on any kinds of patterns that she notices about her dreams.

So the work is going well, really. Every time I go back over the general outline, I'm excited by how much cool stuff we're going to cover over the coming months. I also worry a little bit that it won't all sink in (for instance, discussions we have months ago about using grounding to help siphon off nervous energy are obviously not helping Savanah very much in controlling her panic at times!)… and I wonder if we're trying to do too much too fast. But I think in general it's important to give an overview so that she has some sense of how it all fits together and can go back and explore more in-depth on her own if she chooses to. Since it really is all connected and intertwined, any little bit that "sticks" can eventually lead her back to the rest… and since Jeff and I are pretty well-versed and deep in our practice, there are some lessons that we manage to impart over and over, themes that keep reappearing no matter what specific topic we're talking about. I think those themes are also influenced by Savanah's particular needs — for instance, listening continues to be a lesson we come back to again and again, noting how important it is to listen in order to connect, learn, show respect, calm ourselves and find our centers, and listen to the messages of our own bodies, emotions and minds. I don't think that Jerilynn, for instance, will need as much reminding about the importance of listening as her sister, who is incredibly talkative and active while Jerilynn tends to be quiet and inquisitive. But we may face other challenges with Jerilynn that we didn't with Savanah… it's hard to guess almost two years in advance. I really am looking forward to continuing this work with all the kids, and eventually working this material into a book (or two or three?) at some later point. And it's very good to spend this time one-on-one with Savanah — it's made a big difference in how both Jeff and I relate to her, and her readiness to confide in and connect with us. For that alone, I think it's definitely worth it.

A note on the structure of the course itself… I think overall, it's working well. Now that I'm investigating astrology more and exploring the overlap between the three Druidic elements and the cardinal, fixed and mutable aspects of the four elements in the zodiac… I'm wondering if it might be interesting to experiment with a year-long study similar to the kind TDN has set up with their Perennial Course in Living Druidry. Setting things up so that, for instance, the lessons of Nwyfre of Earth correspond with the cardinal earth zodiac sign of Capricorn (Dec. 21 - Jan. 21) and Gwyar of Water correspond with the mutable water sign of Pisces (Feb. 21 - March 21). It might be interesting to play with the order in this way… though the order and structure I have it set up in right now feels very natural, building on what came before. Mixing things up might make it more difficult… but, on the other hand, it would also "personalize" the year-long study course according to each person's birthday, which might be particularly good for young people. It might force me to simplify the lessons as well, in the same way TDN's course lessons are fairly simple but still profound. I'll explore this possibility as I learn more about astrology and keep it in mind, at least.

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]

Meditations on Brigid: Lady of the Stars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Awen.

"Lady of the Star Fire" Chant

I just loved Ellen's chant, so much that I wanted it to be longer! Here's an expanded version I've been playing with. I tried to incorporate some more of the themes we've been experiencing and exploring in the "Lady of the Stars" TNC group, tying them back to the poet/healer/smith triplicity more traditional to Brigid. For me, this triplicity expresses itself more abstractly as "inspiration, integration, transformation" as a kind of process of both creativity and love (i.e. the "forging" of relationships). So in the first three stanzas, I tried to capture those themes... With the "exploratory" ritual in mind, I wanted to incorporate a kind of "appeal" to her for guidance in the final stanza. Here's what I ended up with (to Ellen's tune):



Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
Spark of inspiration, Goddess of light!
Shaper of the Darkness, shine on me, shine on me!
Ember of creation, burning in the night!

Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
Healer at the hot springs rising from the heart!
Fire in the Water, flow in me, flow in me!
Sweet the restoration deep within your art!

Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
Queen of transformation, Forger of Worlds!
Hammer on the Anvil, sing to me, sing to me!
Ancient spiral turning, galaxies unfurled!

Lady of the Star Fire, speak to me, speak to me!
I am your apprentice, Worker of the Fire!
I have heard your starlight calling me, calling me!
Show me how to answer, guide my hope's desire!

Brigid of Amber, Brigid of the Stars

I frequent a forum called The Cauldron, where I belong to a flamekeeping Cill dedicated to the goddess Brigid. I began flamekeeping with them just before Imbolc of last year. (Mine is the third day in the rotation of twenty, and my shift has fallen more than once on days of special personal significance to me — which others have told me often happens during the first year of flamekeeping for a new Cill member.)

Recently, some wonderful and fascinating discussions have been going on in the Celtic Polytheism SIG, "Hazel and Oak," focusing on Brigid of the Forge as a creatrix/star goddess. The conversation has sparked (no pun intended) the suggestion of designing a group ritual. I want to plunge in and get involved in this work, journaling some of my thoughts and potential liturgical ideas on this blog, so I thought I would just mention this as an introduction for future reference.

I'll add to this later, but for now, here is a response I posted to the forum tonight, regarding the possibility brought up by others (and echoed in my own personal ritual experiences over the summer) of amber being a "stone" sacred to Brigid.

Part of the reason I did the three gifts meditation was to prepare for my trip to Northern Ireland (for a spiritual retreat focused on peace activism and social justice), and I was hoping for some images/icons to "carry with me" to meditate on during my time there. When the shadowy, robed figure outlined against the flames of the sacred fire reached into the heart of the fire and handed to me a droplet of amber, I think I actually laughed out loud in the middle of the ritual.

It suddenly seemed so obvious to me: first and foremost, amber as a "stone" of living fire or fire-in-water, the life-blood of the tree borne of the intermingling of the underground waters drawn up from the roots and the sunlight cascading down from the sky, cupped and drunk by the leaves. The prayer I use during my flamekeeping shifts begins: "Fire and water in the earth of my body, I keep your sacred flame." Amber as the sap or resin of ancient trees seemed like the perfect symbol of this idea.

And then, of course, is the fact that amber is especially well-known for containing the preserved remains of ancient insects, some of which contain the blood/DNA of ancient animals. So in another way, amber represented the "preservation and protection of life" and the continuation of ancient traditions and primordial energies or spirits. The fact that I was going to a retreat in the land of my ancestors that was focused on peace activism seemed to align perfectly with this idea.

I have wondered if anyone else made this connection to amber. While I was on the retreat, just after I'd found the amber sun amulet at the farmer's market, I had a discussion with someone at the retreat who was a former Pagan — he pointed out that amber and jet was a common combination for jewelry (especially among Wiccans, I think, if I'm remembering correctly what he said). But he said that amber was mostly associated with the God rather than the Goddess, being more "active/yang" and masculine. This deflated me a bit and so I kept my musings about any possible Brigid-amber connection to myself. So it's been wonderful for me to see others validating that connection and sharing some of their own thoughts!

And in keeping with the themes of fire-on-water and creation, I suddenly see amazing connections to the very first of the Rosary Poems I wrote back in college (of which, at the time, my advisor said, "Some poems just show up whole and perfect the way they are, like a gift"):

Annunciation

The light shines in the darkness,
and the
darkness has not overcome it. JOHN 1:5

Her yes becomes flesh
in flesh, white-winged fire swept
along sweat as if over the agitation
of waves, sharp spine of sunlight
in a slow serpentine across
the waters of her body —
there is no rushing it, no cascade
into the long cry of rising — only
a breath, a word, and the pouring
in of everything, even God.

More thoughts on all of this when I'm a bit more "together" and coherent.