“Hurray, Hurray for the first of May. Outdoor [loving and living] starts today!” No one is quite sure where this charming piece of doggerel came from. It’s apparently been around for centuries. But it’s still appropriate today. I’ve modified it to fit these pandemic times and a broad internet audience. Wishing everyone a glorious summer filled with sun, fun, and friends.
Happy Day-After-Imbolc! The light is returning. Everything is early this year. My snowdrops are pretty much finished. They were out and beautiful by the first week in January. So I’m sending you a cyclamen and a spring iris. The plants with buds are baby daffodils that will be out in a few weeks.
Yes, ’tis the season of “ghosties and ghoulies and long leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night!”* My favorite time of year. The veil between the worlds is thin and spirits walk close in the night. And this year the veil has been thinner than usual and for a much longer time. True, some of thoseYes, ’tis the season of “ghosties and ghoulies and long leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night! spirits are our ancestors and well worth honoring, but most of them aren’t. So, as you are welcoming in your ancestors, it’s wise to make sure no unwanted spirits tag along. Which brings me to Samhain’s other claim to fame. It’s the Celtic New Year. A time of fresh starts and new beginnings. And before we start fresh, it’s always a good idea to clean up our act on all the levels—physical, mental, and spiritual. That’s why New Year’s Days of every culture, no matter when they occur in… Read More »
My snowdrops are in bloom and the hellebores are coming up. Spring is coming. Really it is!
As the seekers approach, the hanged man’s eyes snap open. Hanged man: I have come to understand that the Multiverse is more complex and vast than I am able to comprehend; and that the knowledge I seek is not to be found in the physical, mental, or emotional realms. I must set myself apart from everyday life, still my body, mind, and emotions, and seek the realm of spirit. I have faith that the Multiverse has a plan for me and that, in time, it will help me to understand it. And so I wait, with a quiet mind and open heart, for the touch of the divine. Hanged man’s eyes close.
Telly Savalas pretty much nailed it. This is, indeed, the big question. The one we wake up in the wee hours worrying and wondering about. Because, deep in our souls, we know that Dean Martin was right. You’re nobody till somebody loves you. Oh dear, I’m showing my age here aren’t I? Having a sweetie, a lover, close friends and family is wonderful. It’s what Valentine’s Day is all about. It makes our hearts sing and the world look rosy. It means we don’t wake up quite as often with the big question heavy on our hearts. But even if you have the happiest marriage and children and friends that adore you, sometimes you still wake up wondering. This is one of the reasons we have religions. If you pay attention, almost all of them are about answering this question. And their answer is pretty much unanimous: “The whole freakin’ Multiverse, Baby! We are all somebody.” But unfortunately, most of us don’t feel this Love.… Read More »
Snowdrops. Ya gotta love ‘em. Dainty, pure white flowers that thrive in the coldest, darkest part of the year. In the Pacific Northwest they always arrive just before Imbolc, the festival of first light. They reassure us that winter won’t last forever. But for me, the arrival of these cheerful flowers triggers bittersweet memories. The snowdrops in the picture are growing in my front yard. They used to grow next door in Patty’s front yard. We were friends and neighbors for over twenty years, and we did a lot of talking during that time. The things we talked about most were gardens and growing things. Two years ago Patty lay dying of cancer in a hospital bed in her living-room, surrounded by grieving friends and family. But snowdrops were blooming in her front yard.
The tiny island of Gavrinis guards the turbulent entrance to Brittany’s Gulf of Morbihan. To get there, we took a beautiful 10 minute boat ride from the tiny village of Lamor-Baden. Perched on the island’s highest point is a spectacular tumulus. Actually it’s a tumulus covering a cairn, covering a dolmen.* And it’s old. Built in 3500 BCE during the Neolithic Era, it is older than the Great Pyramid of Giza and even a few centuries older than Newgrange, its more famous Irish cousin. And it’s really big. At 100 meters in diameter, it’s bigger than Newgrange. And the 46 foot long passageway leading to the central chamber is made up of huge stones carved in fantastic patterns that seem to shimmer and pulse. Several sources state flatly that they are some of the most magnificent art humanity has produced, a masterpiece of universal art. And it’s prominently placed. When it was built, sea level was much lower and it was part of the… Read More »
As I was looking through the cornucopia full of Lughnasadh articles offered on the web I found these two gems. “Celebrating Lammas,” by Waverly Fitzgerald is a fascinating excursion into British History and the death of King William the Red that seques gracefully into an explanation of what the festival means and ways to celebrate it. “Why I’m Boycotting Lughnasadh,” by John Halstead is a lovely rant about how pagans need to get in touch with what is really happening in their part of the world and celebrate the holiday appropriately. Our friends in the southern hemisphere should be celebrating Imbolg, not Lugnasadh, for example, and those in tropical climates should rethink the whole wheel of the year. After reading Halstead’s article I realized that I too had a rant. It’s about a small, simple problem; one that, after all is said and done, really makes no difference at all except to me and my obsessive/compulsive need to get things straight. As I was… Read More »
Back in the 70’s, when I was a baby witch and just figuring out the difference between a pentagram and a pentacle, pagans generally ignored the God. After all, we had become pagans to get out from under the stern, patriarchal thumb of the Judeo-Christian God and weren’t about to make the same mistake again. We were drunk on the amazing “new” concept that, as Merlin Stone* assured us, God was a woman. The God, when we deigned to mention him, was described as Her consort. Even as late as 2000, when I was going over my Wicca 101 syllabus with my students, one very young woman commented, “I see we have a class on The Goddess; why don’t we have one on The God?” I was speechless. This was a glaring omission. I was ignoring half the pagan pantheon and hadn’t even realized it. Bad Witch. Needless to say, from that time on, my course included a class on The God. The God… Read More »