Aelwyd Fochon

Hibernation

2011-09-18T22:26:00.002+01:00

I shall keep this short; I am putting this blog to sleep for a while. Maybe weeks, more likely months and I doubt it will be years.

Things are changing, my ideas are changing and I think I owe it to myself to have a go at a different approach. Something Francis said on a previous post:

I think that we should be aiming for a lifestyle that aims at making explicit the connection between our lives and the land around us. (I agree growing and/or harvesting your own food from within the landscape you live in is the most obvious way in to this approach).Sustainability is a happy inevitable consequence of re-engaging with the land immediately around us - but focusing on sustainability as a goal can sometimes create a sort of relationship by proxy with the land around us.

So here is the thing; I think I am doing this by proxy. I am thinking the relationship with the gods comes through a relationship with the land not the other way around or separately. Matters such as sovereignty and relationships with the gods as a means of communing with the landscape – in a much more pantheistic sense – are still foremost. This isn't a switch to atheism, more an experiment in trying to dance along a different way as the sun turns.

I will finish off a couple of articles I had in mind for here and get that 'personal theology' page fitted out. I will drop in and maybe post something – we shall see – but for now I am going to concentrate on the other things I do and of course will blog a bit about it elsewhere. By elsewhere I do mean here.

So anyway, this is a goodbye of sorts, I wish you all well in your pursuits whatever they may be and no doubt I will be noseying about at what you get up to and sticking in my oar.

Lee

The Horse, the Land and Sovereignty III

2011-08-24T22:59:00.000+01:00

SomethingI have discussed with others is the notion of sovereignty; thecontract between people and the land by which they live together andcoexist. Effectively I guess you could see it as a divine tenancyagreement. We don’t however live in a world any longer here we havea single sovereign who represents the people’s place in thatagreement anymore (ok, Queen Lizzie is sovereign over here but itisn’t the same thing in this context – though gods it would begood if somehow the whole land-horse-king thing slipped in somewherein the next coronation).

Withthat in mind, and bearing in mind that my current ‘religiouscommunity/tribe’ is spread all over Britain, the chance toincorporate Rigantona as the one who grants sovereignty (Rosmertafits in there somewhere, I have my suspicions) and work some kind ofgroup ritual during which sovereignty is conferred upon us a groupseems slim, and will probably not be something that can be carriedout too regularly. The option now is to work on this individually;addressing my own personal sovereignty over the landscape I inhabitand work on/in. I could for instance each year, hold a ritualwhereby sacrifice is made, libations offered and Rigantona addressedto confer sovereignty to me for the coming year. In place of a kingwho takes the responsibility (as embodied by Lugus) it would be metaking personal responsibility. Then arises the question ofworthiness.

Howis worthiness to receive sovereignty judged? How is it measured?

Tobe honest, I don’t think it can be measured in such a way. Perhapsin the past disease, crop failure and general shitness of life in acommunity would be indicators that something was amiss, that the landwasn’t too happy and the land wasn’t holding up it’s end of theagreement anymore because the people had already broken their end ofthe bargain. Perhaps this could be looked at from a differentperspective, especially for those of us who are increasingly gettingtheir food from wild sources or growing it in a garden or allotment.How about looking at this from the other end; at the end of the yearwhen the harvest has been successful, the eggs plentiful and the henshealthy, the brambles and damsons in abundance and perhaps thecrayfish traps bursting with invasive species ready for eating, thenwe see that the land has been fruitful and our actions in accordancewith the place gifted to us. How about we hold a ritual ofsovereignty retrospectively and pre-emptively at the same time? Sortof along the lines of saying “yeah, things have been good...thanks, and we would like this to continue and as such we ask for andaccept for you to grant sovereignty once again upon us”.

Forour part in the complex we would need to consider how we recognisethat what we have has been given to us by the land and therepresentation of the land we refer to as Rigantona. The obvious isto look towards living in a manner that takes into account that ourlives detract from the landscape around us. We take those things weneed in order to live our lives. This isn't 'bad' per se and is vitalof course; we need to eat, we need to work, we need shelter. What weshould really be doing is looking at the impact we have, moving froma life where we actively exploit the land with little or no thoughtto the consequences and move towards something approaching asustainable lifestyle. That to me would be the easiest and mostobvious way in which we can begin to fulfil our responsibilities.That would certainly be a step on the more practical side, in termsof the religious I think a proper inclusion of the gods in our lives.Perhaps moving beyond devotional work and into something else.

Ithink that might be enough for now, I do think I should reallyconsider a bit more means by which I can work towards, well, livingthe lives of the gods. I also need to go on a bit about the manner inwhich the sovereignty ritual is carried out; when, how and do I needto look into purchasing myself a nice little pony?

The Horse, the Land and Sovereignty II

2011-08-22T23:44:00.002+01:00

Before the gods that made the gods
Had seen their sunrise pass,
The White Horse of the White Horse Vale
Was cut out of the grass

G.K. Chesterton; The Ballad of the White Horse

* * *

I have opted to skip one of these blogasms; I was going to prepare apiece on the religo-magical appearance of the horse in Indo-Europeancultures. Instead I am going to jump right in to the part that reallyinterests me more than anything at the moment.

Iam also going to make a confession, for this first bit I am going torely on the scholarship of Miranda Green and Alexei Kondratiev.Essentially I am taking from both of them the notion that to the'Celts' horses were associated with sovereignty and the goddess ofsovereignty. Proper, primary sources for this are out there I am surebut right now I don’t have the time to trawl that much. Refs. forthem will be at the end, do you can look it up and blame them if itis wrong :)

So,this is perhaps the most contentious part of this mini series ofblogasms on horses; the Horse Sacrifice.

The Horse Sacrifice

Theidea of this fascinates me; on the surface it seems bizarre; toactually sacrifice and kill the very animal which representssovereignty and the goddess who confers it. And yet it appears in atleast 3 Indo-European cultures to differing extents and finds itselfechoed in a couple of others.

TheAshvamedha

thisVedic ritual involves the sacrifice of a stallion by the king (andonly the king) in order to bestow glory, sovereignty and prosperityto the kingdom. The stallion in question is chosen and set free toroam for a year during which time it is followed by soldiers whoensure it is unimpeded and comes to no harm. After a year it isbrought back, various rituals and hymns are sung and the stallionsacrificed;

Steed, from thybody, of thyself, sacrifice and accept thyself.

Thy greatness can begained by none but thee.

Queen rituallysimulates sex with the corpse and spends the night with it.Interestingly this last part is also carried out during thesacrifice of a human.

The Irish Coronation

This story is ratherfamiliar to most people and comes from Gerald Cambrensis. The wouldbe king mates with a white mare which is then killed and cooked. TheKing then bathes in the broth and eats it, along with all thosegathered. In this way sovereignty is conferred.

The Roman EquusOctober Ceremony

The horse on the righthand side of the chariot which wins a series of races is sacrificedand dismembered; the head and tail are sent to different locationswithin the city. During the sacrifice it is dedicated to Mars

Scandinavian

The last(ish) paganking of Sweden during his inauguration had a mare killed, dismemberedand eaten. Its blood was sprinkled upon the sacred tree at Uppsala.

* * *

All of these ritualsand commonalities are supposedly derived from a Proto-Indo-Europeanmyth involving a King-Horse Goddess-Sovereignty complex and the birthof a divine pair of twins (one of the possibly being a horse), thatwe find such a strong echo of this PIE myth in the Mabinogi isheartening.

At some point over the next week I will do a final piece on pulling all of this together and working it into personal practice.

Miranda Green 1992 - Dictionary of Celtic Myth and Legend

Alexei Kondratiev 1997 - Basic Celtic Deity Types

Georges Dumezil 1988 - Mitra - Varuna

Ceisiwr Serith 2007 - Deep Ancestors

Bock.. bock..

2011-08-21T23:36:00.004+01:00

Entirely irrelevantI guess but what the hell.

I havechickens! Three youngish ladies now living in my back garden. I could have gonedown the route of naming after the gods in some sort ofweird honorary thing, but went instead for something far moresensible; names I liked. Sometimes when naming after the gods theytake on certain... characteristics; a friend’s iguana was called Innana andturned out to be rather violent. Loki and Thor the bearded dragons tuned out afterseveral years to be Loki and Thora. You get my drift.

So I wentwith Geri (the one with a ginger head), Mama Cass and for black humour sake;Myra Hendley who is a bleached blonde colour. Yeah I know, very inappropriate. Asit happens Geri is very eprky, friendly and totally at ease, Mama Cass is veryvocal; always burbling and clucking away and Myra is well, bonkers; very flighty,prone to spazzing out.

the ever lovely Geri

three girls after the SuperCorn

Mama Cass(erole)

the evil eye from Myra Hendley

Anyway, ifyou are going down the deity route, what on earth do you name chickens?

The Horse, the Land and Soverignty I

2011-08-13T19:21:00.003+01:00

I think perhaps it is time to focus on something and work through it thoroughly; explore options, explore ideas and avenues and create a working modern synthesis. Lately things have been a bit up and down; busy with work and life in general and also with gathering wild food and planning for the immanent arrival of the girls (I am at long last getting some hens, be prepared for lots of blogasms on the subject of chickens!).

I keep on saying it is time to work on theurgical matters and this Horse-Land-Sovereignty things is a conscious effort to do that in a sensible and focused way, especially when sovereignty is so important. I have idea as to the role of sovereignty and it's place, but really the questions in my head are; how do I incorporate the notions and rituals of sovereignty into my practice and most of all, if sovereignty is something granted by the Goddess of the Land, who gets it and how do we measure worthiness to hold it?

Anyway, here is the beginning of a longer term project which I am going to enthral/bore you with;

The Domestication of the Horse

The first humaninteractions with horses that we can find and talk of with somecertainty stem from palaeolithic cave art, some 30,000 years ago.These cave drawings such as can be seen at sites such as in the southof France most likely represent animals from the environment whichwere hunted for meat. It isn't until much later than this, around4000BCE that we can be sure that horses were domesticated and used ina manner that suggests more than simple food rearing. In about4000BCE in the Khazakstan region horse teeth can be found whichdisplay dental pathologies suggestive of bitting; pretty muchessential if you are to ride a horse. Around the same time there arechanges in finds, butchery style etc. which corroborate the changingattitude to horses. We also start finding horse shaped artefacts thatcold be considered objects of status or power such as horse headmaces, and the first finds of horse remains within human burials.Around 2500BCE in the Hungary region in what is known as the BellBeaker culture there are noticeable changes in horse morphologydemonstrating some degree of selective breeding and shifting ofphysiology towards human purpose.

At around 4200 to 4000BCE, massive swathes of settlements in the Balkans and Danube valleystop being occupied, mines are abandoned and what was known as 'OldEurope' comes to an end. It has been suggested this was due to aninflux of horse riding Indo-European people bringing in new weapons,new styles of travel and new culture in which the horse featurestrongly.

David W. Anthony. 2007. The Horse, the Wheel, and Language: How Bronze-Age Riders from the Eurasian Steppes Shaped the Modern World.

To the Lugoves...

2011-07-31T00:26:00.001+01:00

I'm currently at thearse end of my annual-ish chest infection, just left with a cold. Ithink it has only been about 9 months since the last one but thiswill probably be gone in less than a week as opposed to the last onewhich hung about in my respiratory system for 3 weeks.

Oh well :)

Thanks to A.N. For a nifty new term: locavore. Certainly succinct. The blackberries keepon coming – wine, jelly and lots of crumble on the horizon – thedamsons are about ready and I did at least get some plums (someonebeat me to them), enough to make a huge apple, plum and blackberrycrumble for 6 of us. More to come with that obviously so I will justblogasm something when it happens.

The other nice steptowards self sufficiency arrives over the next 3 weeks; Chickens!! atlong last I will be getting me three pretty girls to turn veg scrapsinto eggs (with proper layers ration of course alongside the fresherfood). I have a decent sized coop and run coming an they will get therun of the garden whilst we are home. The only risk is that foxesfrom the graveyard behind us – seen them, heard them – find a wayin though I do doubt it as the fences around the garden are damnhigh. We shall see, maybe something to warn them off; bones mostlikely and something wtiha rather large 'fuck off Mr Fox' imprintedin it.

Anyway, onto somethinga bit more substantial – not sure I will get all this done as I amleaking snot like you wouldn't believe right now.

There are two thingsabout Lugus that stand out:

Ravens; I think theimagery associated with him from contemporary statuary suggest he isassociated with them which is kinda cool as it ties him in nicelywith Woden/Odin. They are both local variations on the sameIndo-European god-form, something that offers some interestinginsight in itself. Corvids in general has significance for me,nothing I can put my finger on, they just do. When I hear them makinga racket in the trees above me or when I see them on the foot a fewfeet away from my window feeding one of their rather tubbyfledglings; these things are beyond the normal. Raven though standout among them, they aren’t common in London – Tower of Londonaside – and it is usually the throaty croaking that gives themaway. The last time I saw one was in the Gwaun Valley back home whenmyself and my sister were pootling about in graveyards trying totrack down ancestors, I say saw, in fact I head the croak driftingacross the damp leafy valley and saw nothing at all. That was enough.

Then there is thetricephaly; this bit screams out at me as being important, especiallywhen taken with the occurrence of inscriptions to him being addressednot as to Lugus, but the 'Lugoves' the 'Luguses'. This to meindicates a couple of possibilities;

'Lugus' wasn't a singlegod but three, three brothers or gods who brought all the skills andarts to man, who taught man all it is that we call culture. Aniggling little voice says they are Ambaxtonos, Gobannos and athird... maybe the magician Wetionos. (Compare with the threemabinogion brothers Amaethon, Gofannon and Gwydion). Which of coursealso raises the possibility of introducing Dumeziliantrifunctionalism; a God, or triumvirate of them fulfilling all threefunctions in one.

If not this then it ispossible he was simply a very powerful god, with a huge range ofinfluence.

The statue of Luguswith his three faces stands out, I have seen this image before,something hat came into my head when thinking about Lugus and in histhree functions; all sharing a single pair of eyes. This to me saysit was very much an emphasis on them being three in one. If I get myass in gear and make a start on some statuary Lugus is the first Iwill attempt, something incorporating this three faces but 2 eyes andthe three functions of farmer/craftsman, blacksmith/warrior andmagician.

Grave Goods

2011-07-16T21:09:00.001+01:00

I had been meaning togo for a walk in the graveyard behind the house for a while; theweather has either been piss poor, I have either been busy or it hasbeen closed by the time I get home from work. So, today was ideal; ithas been raining all day so as soon as it broke it went out hoping tobe one of the only people about as I was bound to attract attention –prying people would receive a very plausible story.

The main intention wasto look for blackberries and other possible fruits and harvestablesand to get a better idea of the lie of the land and what grows there.I have found my 'gateway'; two beech saplings that form a naturalpair of pillars soon after walking through the gates down one of thewooded paths. They stand out from the rest of the wooded areas to thepoint that it seems they were planted intentionally. From now on theywill form the starting point and the place offings and libations areplaced – they also happen to be in a place which is likely to befrequented by other people. Oh well.

I managed about 800g ofblackberries this time even though it is a little early. The net fewweeks should see a huge glut of them – what I collected was dwarfedby what was still green. The whole place is a blackberry paradisewhich is going to necessitate a visit each week. I also found whatare either 2 large damson or small plum trees near to some of thebest elder trees. Either way, that’s a lot more fruit I will begathering. There is also plenty of Dog Rose for hips in a month oftwo.

The other lessgastronomic purpose was two fetch 2 bramble canes; about a foot longand fairly thin and flexible. Whether a gut feeling of some sort ofcommunication between me and Rubus, I have a purpose in mindand I am not sure I like it. Rubus is going to be helping meto cross. It will be doing this when I am wearing two ankle bandsmade from the canes. They will need some trimming down and fitting ofsorts but the thorns will stay on – that is the price. I aminterested to give this a go – it seems far too barking an idea tocome up with on my own and what I have going on with brambles lately– they want to be involved and this is step 1.

so tonight, the firsthandful of berries will be offered to Rigantona along with appleresin incense and a similar offering to the canes of last years ElderRob.

I must be out of mybloody mind.

* * * * *

update...

Well, the 'apple' tree resin doesn't work. It smells of burning caramel and puffs up like popcorn - almost to the point of popping and showering hot resin everywhere. Nice experiment - interesting perfume but I dont think it is something I will make much more use of.

Another idea - the dog-rose bridle on Mary has gotten a big thumbs up. I sat at one point, visualising the skull as it will be when finished, nestled between my hands and felt as if i were being dragged across right there and then - the most incredible surge went up my arms, it was almost overwhelming, definitely the ecstasy I want. It was a proper nipple-tightening experience.

This is something I need to move on with as soon as possible.

Solanaceae

2011-07-10T23:08:00.002+01:00

It is about time I gotaround to writing this one.

I am not a botanist bytraining, interest yes in the sense I am a nerd for natural historyas a whole, though palaeontology has been what has turned me on most.So ending up working on taxonomy projects in the herbarium at Kew hascertainly been... different. The first family I have been working onis the Rosaceae (a bloody huge family) and fortuitously the first twobig genera (some small ones in between) have been Prunus(plums, cherries, peaches and all their wild relatives) and Rubus(brambles, raspberries and the other cane fruits). I have spentprobably 6-8 weeks on each of these genera and spent my time lookingat specimens from all over the world and dozens of species of each –in both cases developing a much greater understanding of each and akind of 'closeness' I didn’t expect. I simply can't walk past wildbrambles and blackberries these days without acknowledging what theyare. Normally I am interested in them in the sense of knowing theywill be providing me food at some point in the future, now though itis as if I have come to know them in some way more than I have beforeand am on the edge of something else in a relationship with them. Ithink I know what comes next so will have to keep you updated.

The next family I willbe working on will be the Passifloraceae; passion flowers and thelike. Something I know has ethnogenic use. I know where there is agood source of Passiflora and so will be making some forays into themagical and ethnobotanical use of this plant.

Which leads me to themain bulk of this blogasm; the Solanaceae. This is another family Ihave an acquaintance with and have been quick to put my name down forwhen this family comes up to work on. It is such an odd family; onone have we have some of our most well know agricultural crops;potatoes, tomatoes, peppers etc and on the other we have Henbane, theNightshades and Mandrake; all with very different potential to theirfamily.

I have had some luckgrowing Mandrake in the past and have seeds to have another go thisautumn, likewise Henbane. I also have datura seeds and a nice supplyof woody nightshade which will be gracing the back garden nextspring. Now that I have a garden again and am unlikely to be movinghouse in the near future I want to have something of a collection ofinteresting plants; interesting not only because they can besmoked/rubbed on, but also because of their associations and looks.Woody nightshade (Solanumdulcamara) has some seriously pretty flowers and the greatest 'eat me' berriesout there (don’t, obviously). Birds eat and spread the seed withimpunity but to humans the effects of eating the berries can bedisastrous though not as bad as eating the leaves which contain farmore of the active toxin Solanine.

Beyondthe botanical interest and the aesthetic interest in this family I amalso interested in the magical aspect of working with them. Henbaneespecially as it seems that the associations with Belenus are not asiffy as I originally thought. Considering that Lugus-Belenus is adeity with whom I am actively working on developing a devotionalrelationship with this plant is going to be interesting. Obviouslynow that I want to find the reference I cant... if I recall correctlyHenbane was known in Gaulish as the 'herb of Belenus' (BelinimicaI thinkit was), in much the same way as it was known as Apollo's oracularherb. The logic in my mind is to experiment with burning Henbane oncharcoal and see what it effects may be.

Doesthis seems a bit mental? A bit too drug happy?

Maybeit does. I have a rather relaxed attitude to most drugs; I have triedeverything I was offered (bar the filthy stuff like heroin or methobviously) and can see the value in them for various purposes. Ihaven’t taken anything other than alcohol in a number of years andhave safety in mind for when these experiments get going; start smalland make sure someone is about who knows what I am doing should itall go tits up.

Soanyway, I have dug out some of my old books from the boxes and beenporing over them again familiarising myself with that information Iwill need and how best to approach these plants.

Iam beginning to ramble a bit now.. it is getting late. Suffice to saythat a working relationship with various plants is on the cardseither as a result of direct intention or a side effect of mywork.

Thosebrambles keep calling... asking to be brought home... telling me'they will get what they want and fuck anyone who gets in their way'.

Thedog rose in the garden wants to be a bridle; wrapped about the skullof Mary, it wants to work there, to be there to help to draw blooddepending on who has a mind to seize hold of the reigns of Rigantona.

Resins

2011-07-06T20:37:00.001+01:00

I took the tube hometoday, for a change. The outer stations of the London Underground areabove ground and tend to be quite nice places. The one at Kew Gardensis pretty good as tube stations go. I was stood on the platform byone of the trees they have and noticed the resin on it. So, a furtivepick at it and I have 4 small chunks of amber and clear resin in mybag. I'm not sure what species it was – it has been pruned and wascut right back – though it was probably an apple of some sort orsimilar. It is definitely one of the Rosaceae and not one of thestone fruits (Prunus spp.), that much I have picked up working onthose very genera at work. So, all of a sudden I find I want to golooking for more resins to burn and experiment with. I will be backat the Kew tube trees again, possibly even the fruit trees in thegardens themselves.

To the Matres of this home..

2011-07-06T00:46:00.001+01:00

I have been horriblyremiss of late with my monthly devotions, so much so I am a good 3days late with my household cult observances. I have excuses but nonereally hold up when it comes down to it. I hope that one of today'sofferings was sufficient contrition.

I have blogasmed a bit before about the initial ideas for household cult observances andstick to this format pretty much. This time though words were said inthanks to Taranis and a few words offered to Lugus.

This devotional isstrange, I can only describe it as making me feel incredibly'comfortable' with what I do and say. No streaming lights from theheavens, no chills up my spine... just incredibly at ease and 'home'with what I do. I guess that is a good thing all things considered.

The key part of this was burning some resin i acquired from a Wollemia pine. They are pretty cool trees; thought extinct since the Jurassic until rediscovered. Seriously in trouble in the wild but pretty successfully cultivated in 'captivity'. N has one on her land and it has been getting on fine - hence the seeping a little resin which I will see about taking a small amount of when I can. It smells much like frankincense though a little less citrus. You can smell the 'specialness' to it :)

The first harvest of pretty red spring onions, home-made cherry jam and some milk; for Briganti and the Matres of the home.

I promise, tomorrow perhaps I will get on to the blood and Solanaceae blogasms.

Progress Report

2011-07-03T14:39:00.004+01:00

I don’t really havemuch in terms of long coherent blogasming to do at the moment, so Ithink I will regale you with some snippets.

Last week we had someof the hottest days in years in the UK, it was hot as hell, humid andsticky. Bloody fucking horrible to put it bluntly. On severaloccasion I think crossed my mind to offer something to Taranis to sethis sons out rampaging and bring us one almighty storm to clear theair, and on the walk home through the gardens at work I spotted asuperb Bean Goose feather (we have them living and breeding inthe gardens on the various ponds and lakes. A lovely goose feather toasperge to Taranis. It now sits on my altar and will be incorporatedinto my cosmos.

Things on the allotmenthave been going well, even more broccoli and the onions are doingwell, I even have real and actual beans! They just need a little bitmore time to fatten up. Radish and salad leaves in the garden arecoming on well and soon I should start having all I need of those forthe coming months with proper successional planting in action.

Mary the horse has comeback home at last from her year outdoors seasoning and cleaning. SoonI will give her a good clean, whiten and redden the lower jaw beforemaking a veil for her.

I think it deserves alonger post really, but I have been in a situation to make use ofblood again in my work. In this case, it stems from wearing sandalsagain on those aforementioned bloody hot days. I ended with a soddinghuge patch of my upper foot worn raw. The next day with socks on (andboots, I would never wear socks with sandals I promise) it seems thescab has welded itself into the cotton. Roll on bedtime when I whipoff my sock to have it wrench off the scab, some skin and hair.Serious bloody pain. Serious bloody foot. In fact there was aremarkable amount of deep red blood slowly running out over my foot.Slightly unusually my first instinct was to reach for a holed chunkof flint and chalk I have on my altar and blood it well. I have donethis before on one occasion and probably a couple other times overthe years. It feels like the right thing to do on occasion, the stonehas meaning and purpose. Perhaps it is something best dealt with onit's own and properly. Maybe later when the seeds have been plantedand the cherry and balsamic jam is bottled.

Oh, one last thing...it looks like I will be working on the Solanaceae at work in a fewmonths time. I am quite looking forward to this for a couple ofreasons, intellectual, agricultural and … well, unorthodox. Maybeit is something else I should hold off and do a proper post on.

Harvest

2011-07-01T12:21:00.003+01:00

This is a new one for me; I am looking forward to Lugus’ feast for the firsttime in as long as I can remember. Perhaps this is because I will bemaking an actual harvest, a harvest in terms of taking those which I have grownand fretted over – never before has my first thought upon seeing rain fallbeen; ‘cool, the veggies will be getting a drink’. I have alreadyharvested my carrots and the rest of the broccoli will be coming out in thenext few days and the onion harvest will be a week or two away. I have beenincredibly lucky with my allotment in general (although the beans went a bitsquiffy), with virtually no pest damage (the Cabbage White Butterfliesliterally only turned up the day I was harvesting the bulk of the broccoli) andsuperb weather for it (lots of sun, occasional rain) so am incredibly gratefulfor that.

Back in the day when I was digging over the allotment prior to planting Imade libations to Ambactonos and offered him hymns at the four corners of theallotment. Some of my first harvests were offered to him. As the onions startcoming up and he beans hopefully start producing I will be making anotheroffering of thanks and libations as the ground is dug over and made ready fornext year.

A few weeks after that I will be looking to take advantage of the wildharvest; elderberries, blackberries, a wild pear tree some friends have in theirgarden which they don’t want to eat from plus whatever I can find that isedible or inedible but of use in the coming year.

With all this harvest I will be freezing, drying, pickling and jamming –those skills about the homes that fall under the crafts of Lugus and Briganti. Andthat I think is where he comes into it; the many skilled, the deft handed, theone who guides the hand when turned to something.

I am beginning to see him as a god of culture, of civilisation, of thosethings which have allowed us to gather, prepare and preserve and set aside inorder to survive the coming winter. All thosethings which will come to the fore over the coming weeks and months and forthat, for tapping into that stream and paddling into it for a while I will beoffering my thanks and making my libations.

Yes, for the first time in a long time this coming feast holds meaning andpromise and a little hint of excitement.

This midsummer...

2011-06-23T00:07:00.002+01:00

Midsummer is always a strange time of year and a strangefestival for me. There is the obvious – not really at the moment, the weatheris positively bipolar at least 3 times a day at the moment – connection withthe sun; the longest day and all that, but it isn’t obviously the ‘strongest’day for the sun. The weather has more warming o do and to me the sun will bestronger in a month ro two when (and if) summer really kicks in, the temperaturerises and the landscape around me really gets its sex on. The trees and hedgesare leafy and green but it is over the coming months that it really hits fulllushness and fruitfulness; it is probably six weeks time till the sun isreflected back on itself in the wheat and barley fields.

The summer solstice feels more like a beginning; the sun andthe earth really were making leaps forward back at Calan Mai and are now reallygetting into their stride, it is from now that summer is really here –generally speaking and weather notwithstanding.

My other problem is Maponos. The solstice is the time when Brythonhonours him. I just don’t see the connection between him and the sun. To behonest I struggle when it comes to the sun full stop. The sun is millions of milesaway and is a huge ball of burning gas. It isn’t alive, my own theology is thatthe gods and ungods come from life and the living, so to connect a ‘dead’ ballof gas with a living force just doesn’t really fit into my cosmology ortheology at all.

Maponos though... now he is an enigma. The recentinterpretation of an inscription has get me thinking. I am seeing Maponos in awhole new light. Last night I lit the Briganti flame, offered incense andrecited the ‘inscription’ to Maponos and he felt like the one opening the gates,he was the one who lay down his two spears and made the bridge between thisworld and the Other. Maponos is turning into the White One at the edge of theworlds, our own Eleggua. This role works; it sings in my gut and asks to beacknowledged. And it isn’t just me thinking this.

Divine Maponos; who stands at the edge of this world and the Other.

I seek your hand, I seek your aid.

Guide my crossing,

Show me over the threshold,

to the Otherworld and the spirits within.

Maponos

2011-06-19T02:24:00.003+01:00

This is unabashedly lifted from Heron's blog as it is something I have never come across before. It sets offall kinds of lines of thought in my mind as to the connection ofMaponos to other gods and his roles within a Brythonic pantheon. Heis not a god I have much pull towards so this snippet sets of linksthat I can relate to and work with.

Andedionuediiu –mi diiiuion risu naritu Maponon

Aruernatin:lotites sni eθθic sos briχtia Anderon

(Gaulishtablet found in a sacred spring at Chamalières)

Which, freely interpreted, is rendered as;

“Maponosof the deep, great god

Icome to thee with this plea:

Bringthe spirits of the Otherworld.”

It is silly o'clock here so I will come back to this tomorrow and the run up to midsummer to post some thoughts - once I run it by some people in order to make sure I don't run amok with this and spout a load of shit.

My Gods

2011-06-17T17:05:00.006+01:00

It is funny how some things crop up at the same time; I amin the process of writing a piece for the Brython website on my personal pantheonof sorts and I find the same theme cropping up in blogs and websites too. Ifigured I would post here what I will post on the website and also the kind ofthing I would answer on some of the blogs.

I am a polytheist; I believe the gods are many and amcomfortable with the idea that they all exist in some form or other. Some havea place in my life, others do not as yet. I am quite happy knowing most of thegods known to man will never be known to me or be part of my practice. My viewof gods is that, primarily, they arise out of the landscape and environment andare shaped by it and by our interactions with them. As such, the gods with whomI am fostering a relationship are rooted largely in the lands that form theBritish Isles. Names and titles may be from other lands but are addressed tothat deity here and now in the absence of a surviving name with which toaddress them.

There are a handful of gods I have hymns for, make offeringsto and make libations to:

Rigantona: she is the land, an embodiment of the landscapewe live on and our relationship with it. Our place in the land is assured byher and our sovereignty comes from her. Sheis the great Queen, the Grey Mare on the hill.

Mokkonos: not a deity attested to in myth or inscription. Heis the Wild Boar, the spirit of winter that crushes all before him, whosebreath is the winter fog and whose sweat lies on the land as frost. He is thekilling blow of the cold and the shadow that consumes in the depths of winter. Forall of this, he turns over the land, clears back the dead and dying and pavesthe way for the spring and all the promise it brings.

Ambactonos: the divine ploughman, not just a god ofagriculture, but one who knows the movements of the heavens. It is to him I offerhymns and libations when I am working the land. I am still in the early stagesor my relationship with him.

Briganti: the Flame in my hearth, the one who tends thefires of the gods and whose flames give our words and offerings to the gods.She is the first to be addressed, the first to receive offerings and it throughher contact is made with the other gods. She is the warmth in my home and thelight on my altar. There are many associations with her and healing and crafts,these are sides of her I am only just beginning to explore.

Rosmerta: another god who I am beginning to get on with. Shehas associations with sovereignty and its relationship with people. Here areconnections there between Her and Rigantona and the conferring of sovereignty. Sheis often portrayed with a cornucopia andi am beginning to think this hassomething to do with the fruits of the land that come in a proper relationshipwith the land itself; a triad of people – Rigantona – Rosmerta. Part of mewants to think in - crude - terms ofher as interecessionary with Rigantona.

The Horned God – this is a weird one, he doesn’t have anyname or title beyond this. Perhaps he is something akin to Silvanus in that tome he represents the wild energy and space of those parts of the land outsideof man and his influences. If you tookthe spirit of the wild landscape, it’s beasts and plants; the nursing deer, thesnagging thorns, the bloodlust of predators and the brutally protective mothercaring for her young and rolled it into a single ungod – this would be him. Thatmythical Wildwood we know of from our first forays with paganisms, he is thatWildwood. He is that energy that claws back the landscape if left alone anduntended. He is all this and far, farmore.

Names

2011-06-17T14:15:00.001+01:00

I am funny about names. I need to know them. When I was akid I used to be really unhappy watching cartoons like Thundercats orTransformers if I didn’t know the names of those characters I was seeing andhow they are connected t one another. I get like this now – as people who watchTV with me when I am new to a programme will attest. Maybe it is one of thoseinnate quirks that led to me be becoming a scientist; I spent and still spendmy time looking at names, remembering names and being curious about how thosenames came to be and how those names are related to one another.

This also applies to gods and ungods, I almost always needto have something to cal them, whether it be a name or title. I did go througha period where I got weird about knowing the names of the gods, the name beyondthe title most of them have. I am over that now.

This all ties back to something am working on; fetishes. It occurred to me that naming them wasimportant, especially the ones that will either be with me or the person I ammaking them for, for a long period of time. The notion that these will becomefamiliars of sorts I important; they will b fed, looked after and serve a rolein some way or another. They will become household spirits of sorts. What alsooccurred to me is that naming them based on their proper taxonomic name wasimportant; Pica pica (magpie) or Prunus (blackthorn) for example. To me,the scientific name is them; it is their very essence in terms of the human relationshipwith the organism. They may be known by many names across many parts of theland, but at their heart and core they have only one name and that name neverchanges (ok, maybe sometimes with taxonomic wrangling).

I've been shopping

2011-06-08T19:57:00.016+01:00

First off there is this lovely little chap - Toad - who will be turned into a charm for myself. Dyed with red ochre, berry juice and some of my own blood. I think some sort of reliquary to keep him in as he is very delicate indeed. He will be asked to help and guide in travelling. Frog/Toad has been a guide of this nature for many years and it is about time I reacquainted myself with him.

Then there is this handsome devil, Corvus corone, the skull will be painted with dyes and along with one leg will be incorporated into a fetish. The other leg I will use for another charm for myself; those talons are huge and wicked.

Cosmos

2011-06-06T22:17:00.000+01:00

Ever since I wrote the new myth about the Making of the World, it had occurred to me that this 'model' of thee cosmos could be quite useful in terms of trance and shamanic style techniques; we have an upper level, the heavens in a literal sense as portrayed and also the place where the gods dwell. Not in an 'up' place like heaven, more a place behind the landscape we know; an Otherworld which is where the gods dwell. A rise in consciousness perhaps.

Then there is this world, a middle level, the physical plane where we live and a plane where all three meet and merge into one whole.

Lastly there is the Underworld, the Realm of the Dead however you may view that.

Each of these three represented by the three gods who formed the cosmos from the body and soul of the first father .Dyeus; Taranis in the heavens, Rigantona as the land and Tigernonos as the ruler of the watery world which led to the place of the dead.

Whilst daydreaming and thinking about this and these representations the notion of some sort of sigil or pictographic image of this cosmic model popped into my head (see above), it should be fairly self explanatory.

The next step in my thought process cropped up when the Witch's Ladder was on my mind – no idea either, it was just in there for some reason – and so I got to thinking about making a physical representation of the cosmos. This had cropped up before in truth, way back when it ha occurred to me that an antlered staff/stang would act as a cosmic model and altar in one, as it does in Cochranesque traditional witchcraft. I dont really want to make a full size stang for this, so I thought something of a mix between that and a Witch's ladder might work quite well being as it would be smaller and more portable.

The picture I have cobbled together – the wonders of MS Paint – roughly shows the kind of thing I mean: a pair of antlers (probably 3 or 4 point roe deer ones, not too big) with two branches hung below of appropriate wood for the middle and under realms. On each section, strung into the cord are items like feathers, shells, bones and stones as appropriate for that realm

Life, death and life again

2011-06-06T22:13:00.000+01:00

This weekend has been incredibly restful; I went to the open day at the cemetery yesterday and aside from have a wander around I joined the Friend of Nunhead Cemetery, so will be there once a month to help out with various projects.

In the reasonably short time I was there I had a stroll around the outer paths – joined by a surprising crown of other people – and began noticing it is far more 'wild' than I had thought. The entire eastern half is woodland, proper woodland. The trees are a full canopy's worth and with surprising variety of species which I guess stems from a number of introductions and gravseide memorials. There are more ornamental varieties such as non-native hawthorn which has different leaves to the normal Crataegus monogyna (common hawthorn). There was ash, horse chestnut, dog roses in abundance, elder and oak and others I should see about identifying properly. I aim to visit as often as I can, because like no other place I have been to in London, a walk through the eastern paths are like leaving the city and being out in the somewhat wilds for a moment; there are some wide walkways and the occasional narrow path winding off into the undergrowth; a glance down a few gave me the definite impression there is something far wilder down there.

And all of this green, this growth and this buzzing, throbbing life growing and thriving upon the resting place of the dead. This one site, this one space neatly encapsulates something about our world that can easily be forgotten; this burgeoning season of life and living is rooted and feeds on the flesh of the dead. Soon enough it will be our turn to feed the roots of little saplings and things which crawl and burrow. For now though I think it is worth enjoying the sunlight.

This afternoon I went over to the 'allotment', took some photos and went for a stroll down the nearby lane to pick some elderflowers; this year my relationship with Sambuccus will start with elderflower cordial and end with Elder Rob.

More magic

2011-06-06T20:30:00.002+01:00

There are a few types of magic, I figured I could go through them and explain how they fit into my world-view and scheme of things.

Let's start with Divination; to forsee or be inspired by a God. This one doesnt really play much of a part for me. I have tried tarot – own two sets, feature in one and helped with the research for it. I am the page of discs, well I was back then. Tried runes, (the dodgy) ogham and a couple of other systems and to be honest they just don’t fit for me. So t be honest this is one thing I am happy not to concern myself with, I just don’t really see any need for it in my praxis.

Invocation, well this is one that people use interchangeably with evocation, however it is different. Invocation features in a number of religious practices and is the practice of summoning or inviting a spirit or god into a person. Ritual possession. There is a place for this I feel, though not something to be done on ones own as someone should be there not only to do the invocation but also to guide things along, speak to the god and bid them goodbye. This is something that isn't really to be jumped into, it needs preparation and experienced people around you. Perhaps something for the future.

Evocation is when you command or invite spirits et al to be present at a ritual for instance. The command/invite can involve different tools – athame or wand respectively – though to my mind invite is always the better option. If you are looking to foster a stronger and closer relationship with the Landscape around you (capitalised deliberately there) then it is surely better to do so in co-operation with those ungods and gods living within it rather than bumbling in and starting to bark orders.

Enchantment is pretty obvious, this is your spellcraft, the fetish, the oils, the incenses etc., the obvious side of magic. This is something I have mentioned just the other day so don’t really think I need to go not it more.

Spellcraft

2011-06-04T00:42:00.000+01:00

I have been meaning to write something on the subject of magic and spellcraft for a while, and recently it keep cropping up on blogs and in discussions I am having. Sometimes the prodding becomes insistent enough to force action.

I come from a background in what you would call witchcraft; that is, I came into paganism and soon after found spellcraft et al early on. It seemed entirely natural and worked well when employed. With a bit of newbie zeal I never really questioned it's use or even mechanics – I simply did it when needed and found that certain things worked well and with good results e.g. weather magic to stop rain for a shirt time was always a winner. Roll along a decade and whilst I was still involved in the craft I found I wasn’t really doing much spellcraft, I did the odd ting now and then for those who needed it but not a lot really. I certainly never really did much for myself.

These past two years I think it is I have been focussing on the devotional side of my practice – I think I have said this before, at least twice – so have been giving thought to revisiting the notions of and practice of spellcraft again.

I guess my main problem has been the notion that a bit of plant has some innate power to cause something to happen on a magical level (pharmacological effects aside here), likewise a rock or bit of animal. I haven’t had problems with the notion of seeking intercession of the gods.

The conclusion of this little ramble is that I am coming around to the idea that the spellcraft works by employing the service of the spirit (animistic sense) or ungod of the animal, plant or whatever into working on your behalf, a kind of low level intercession. As such the idea of utilising talismans or fetishes as spirit houses to convey and act as a resource for various ungods seems to be valid to me.

This has all come to a head with a recent request to do 'something' for a friend who wants help with a certain situation – naming no names and no details here – where I found that this is a fairly simple process; identify the appropriate kind of ungod for the job, craft a suitable fetish to convey it and ensure appropriate care, attention and feeding of it. This also appeals to the side of me which really bloody enjoys getting down and dirty and crafting something with one hell of a kick.

This all ties in nicely with my exploration into the witchcraft and mystic side of my devotional practice, again kick-started by others; I recently rediscovered a blog I used to read and have been re-inspired by the work and style of others which kind of fits my own personal style too in many ways. So, thanks to the Witch of Forest Grove and the one walking the Ivy Path.

Over the coming weeks I will be crafting a few fetishes; one for the person mentioned above and the others for me, as practice and also as aides to this next step on my path, Heron and Toad will hopefully be at my side. I am sure there will be pictures forthcoming :)

Advertising

2011-06-02T12:57:00.001+01:00

I have been a little busy these past few nights making the new Brython website.

Go take a peek and let me know what you think, suggestions, ideas etc

2011-05-17T23:27:00.001+01:00

Rigantona; we strew petals about your altar

For your coming from the Otherworld

A Verdant Pantheon

2011-05-16T22:31:00.001+01:00

Not too long ago I came across something which has been sitting in my head: there are inscriptions to two 'gods' known from France, namely : Fagus and Robur.

Now these two gods are the trees themselves, beech and oak respectively.

This 'deification' of trees seems like useful idea in terms of addressing ungods or spirits of place. So Oak trees in general would fall under Robur and specific trees could perhaps be the Hosts of Robur.

Considering that the elder in the graveyard is about to hit full blossom and the fruit will also be featuring heavily in some foraging trips I plan for later in the year, it seems like an idea to begin addressing thanks and leaving appropriate libations to the ungod Sambucus and her children.

Honey Honey..

2011-05-16T20:52:00.000+01:00

New banner for a new blogasm. I found this one on the site of a surrealist artist. Not much else I can add to that I guess.

* * *

things on the allotment front are looking good, all giong well though my beans need some extra minerals as they are looking a bit yellow. The lack of ran is worrying, I mean, I know I only have a small patch to water but I don't think we have had rain to speak off in weeks and with a hot summer ahead I things will be hitting the fan for gardeners and farmers alike.

* * *

Tomorrow is the full moon, not only will I be doing my regular full moon observances but will be tying into it the brython Calan Mai observance and something tied in with being in the new home. The weeks immediately following moving were hectic and I have only just finished getting everything packed and put away which for me is shocking, normally it is something I have done within 48 hours. So expect *something* from me in the coming days; a blogasm and some pics perhaps.

Oh! new ritual tool! I now have a kindle and have discovered that I can load PDFs onto it; including hymns etc so wont have to have a book open on different pages t recall exactly what I should be saying. I see this as a huge step forward in religious paraphernalia :) it is also handy for reading whilst commuting.

* * *

I have been doing a little extra shopping this month online, picking up things like some small cork stoppered bottles, coloured thread, silver wire and 'animal bits' shall we say. I think I have said before how my personal praxis has been quite focussed on the formal ritual aspect and I want to get back to the more shamanish, witchcrafty kind of theurgical work. Well, this shopping has been in aid of crafting some fetish to get that under way. In the past it is the kind of thing I have responded well to and will have a stab at again.

* * *

My house is precariously perched on the end of that orange arrow.

It turns out the cemetary behind my new place is also a nature reserve, the pics make it look like woodland and to be honest that what it is these days. I have been for a walk along the paths that weave through the alarmingly high canopy and for intents and purpose it is a woodland, albeit with gravestones in it. There are plenty of birds (woodpeckers and long tailed tits were most memorable), plants and trees and probably far more than I saw on my Saturday morning amble. They are having an open day next weekend so I think I will go along and join up with the FONC in order to get involved in maintenance work etc. also to find out who it is that has some beehives in there (something I really want to have a go at and hopefully have a hive of my own, well, set up a home for some nice bees to hang out in though not really be mine), so look out for 'Graveyard Honey' some time in the future.

Calan Mai Myth

2011-04-25T15:56:00.002+01:00

As I have said before, I really like the Kilhwch-Olwen-Hawthorn Gaint legend that can be so easily and conveniently set at this time of year. So when the notion of writing new myths to 'explain' and go with seasonal celebrations came up it was an obvious thing to retain. In addition, the possible seed in the legend of Kilhwch being a remnant of a Pig God as suggested by Patrick Ford.

So this is Nellie's fault to an extent, my sitting down and sowing some seeds of ides and seeing what kinds of weeds may grow. I am happy with the concept of this myth; I like the little nods to other ideas and the medieval legends but essentially I like the overall message; summer is coming, the weather is getting a lot better and soon the land will be lush and bountiful and full of LIFE.

I am sure it will undergo a revision or two, and I can hazard a guess a to how will be in an ideal position to make and corrections or additions/subtractions. Fire away chaps!

* * *

The songs of the Gods and the Ungods had reached the ears of Rigantona in the Halls of the dead. The songs of all peoples of the land the and animals who lived in, on and above they had called her back to the Land she had once formed from the flesh of Dyeus.

In her absence the Wives of Winter had given birth to many sons and the first among them was the Thorn tree. In the absence of Rigantona he had stretched his arms across the land and choked the life from it; all things which grew were shrouded under his twisted and thorny grip and all things which ran and breathed were scratched and torn at by his thorns. And so it was that even with the passage of Rigantona back into this world, the growing and breeding all of all living things was not able to come back with her.

Rigantona passed over the land as best she could, everywhere she went her passage was hindered by black branches and tearing thorns and so she set out to clear the Chief Thorn tree from her way.

She went to the only one of the First Animals she knew who could pass unhindered across the land; Mokkonos and went to him as a white sow. The son she bore from him was taken up by the gods. Gobannos forged for him a great iron spear, which Ambactonos sung into a charm of cutting that only he knew for the strongest of ploughs for tending the wildest of lands.

This narrow boar of a son of Rigantona was borne by her to the heart of the Thorn and there sought to do battle with him. He took his song charmed spear and drove it deep into the heart of the Thorn and stole almost all of it's life from it.

As the life fled from his body, Rigantona sang into his veins and his blood began to course anew in his body. As it did so every part of him and his offspring put out fresh new leaves to cover their hard black branches and soften their wicked black thorns.

As the last breath left the Chief Thorn Rigantona seized it up and cupped it in her hands, there she mixed it with the blood sap which spilled into the soil and breathed life into her.

Rigantona set her narrow boar son and his new wife to travel the land pushing back the sons of the Thorn, and as they passed the White Track daughter of the Thorn set the branches with blossom.

This is why, once the son of Rigantona and his White Track Wife pass across the landscape and set the dead thorns with leaf and with blossom, the fullness of Rigantona will pass by soon after.

May pt.1

2011-04-18T23:44:00.001+01:00

Well, I did say I would do a lot of blogasming in May so consider this an early start.

I am in a new house – different area, a lot cheaper and in many ways a lot better than the studio flat. That said, I don’t have as much of my own space and privacy, but as always; swings and roundabouts.

The house's small garden (soon to be done up with edibles and not so edibles) backs on to Nunhead Graveyard (think early 19^th C graveyard that nature is slowly reclaiming) which I cant wait to explore and get to know. There are apparently tons of Elder and bramble bushes so a host of free food to be available.

This time tomorrow I will have moved the last of my stuff to the new house and with luck will have done most of the unpacking. I am lucky in that my room has a big old fireplace all intact, a real proper bloody hearth! I think it will receive a good clean out and become part of the permanent ritual setting in the future. Once I have done something with it I will post some pics, at the moment it is swamped with books, clothes and orchids awaiting unpacking.

The allotment is going very well; the tomatoes and celeriac failed completely but the borlotti beans and onions are looking incredible – maybe the hymn to Ambactonos and the offering at the four corners of the plot had some effect, if only to point out that he doesn’t want me growing toms and celeriac and that onions will be looked on favourably. Who am I to argue.

Any day now!

2011-04-14T10:55:00.000+01:00

Ysbaddaden will be slain and his Olwen will be free to traverse the land.

Yeah I know... I am being shit at the moment

2011-04-14T10:53:00.000+01:00

OK, fair do's. I have been crap at updating this blog recently. I promise I will do a lot in May.

This is going on so I will do something for it, in addition APABE have a consultation happening so I think I might blogasm about that and in addition I might do a good old fashioned rant or two.

Old Ground

2011-03-28T13:07:00.007+01:00

A slightly different approach for this one; spurred on by recent email discussion and general ponderings I have been thinking about some of the very ‘basics’ that I learned back in the day when I was first getting involved with various paganisms.

I grew up in a small town in west Wales, with only the one bookshop to speak of and that tended not to have anything in stock that was of much interest to those of a less than Christian persuasion. The nearest town was about 15 miles away and that was no better. This was also way before the time the internet had become so ubiquitous. So, i used to go into Seaways bookshop and would ask what kind of thing they could order – this often meant poking about the stacks and waiting till nobody else was around as I was still very hush hush about my interests. The couple who owned the place would be sat behind the desk and would almost quite literally go through the supplier catalogue and read out what was available to order and I would stop them when something sounded interesting, get them to read the blurb and then ask them to order it if it sounded interesting. This went on for maybe 3 years and at least a dozen books I think. It was terribly secretive and horribly primitive in terms of book acquisition. I do miss the whole set up.

Marian Green was probably top of my list of authors to buy. There was something very simple and straightforward about her books; they gave the kind of grounding you needed (even if you didn’t want it) in beginning on a magico-religous tradition. There would be exercised on visualization, pathworking, spellcraft, ritual and general ‘nice’ things to get you started. To be honest, I have probably forgotten 50% of what I learned back then and the other 50% has been invaluable but has morphed into what I do today. The idea of visualisation, pathworking and what you might call ‘journeying’ has been on my mind with a view to theurgical work. I am giving thought to the exact manner in which contact should be sought and approached. I have a mind also to go back and buy some of those books I have long since given up and refresh myself and revisit those things I have maybe thought unimportant or unnecessary.

Spring

2011-03-23T13:36:00.001Z

Well, spring is here with gusto at last. The daffodils are going berserk and are being joined by Magnolias, Cherry blossom and Blackthorn blossom. On top of that it lovely and warm without being too hot. Perfect spring weather.

What makes it all the sweeter is that I am now working at Kew Gardens (Biodiversity and Informatics dept.) and so get to spend my lunches out in the gardens; the pic attached pretty much sums up what I spent my lunch looking at today, a very nice, deep pink Magnolia campbelli in bloom.

It has been another hiatus of epic proportions for me in terms of blogasming on here. Not an awful lot has been going on really; maybe I will knock something together later this evening and write more then. For now I thought I should post *something*.

Brigantīcā

2011-02-05T08:01:00.002Z

Miraculously, I was up well before dawn. I did all of the washing up and about an hour before dawn sat about cleaning the cooker; and by the gods did it need it. Once done, I lit my oil lamp from one of the burners and switched off all other lights in the flat. About half an hour later at around sunrise, I lit some candles from the central lamp flame and then carried it back into the kitchen and used it to light one of the burners on the hob. Said a few words to Briganti, blew out the flame and then relit it from the new hob flames.

I followed this with offerings to the household gods, making use of two new hymns to Rosmerta as part of the libations.

This evening, after a day on the allotment I will set about my 'proper' ritual and triple toast in honour of Briganti at a time being shared with others of similar persuasion.

I
A Hymn to Rosmerta at the filling of the cup

It is you who pours out this drink,
not my hands that cause it's flowing.
It is you that can make this happen
as it is you who has that power to give
it is you who bestow this drink upon us
it is you who hands it to the sovereign
not my hands that pour and present it Rosmerta;
it is only you who can offer this cup
it is you who makes it more than it is
through your grace it becomes the
drink of sovereignty, bestowed
upon those of the Teguloktos Rigantona.

II
A Hymn to Rosmerta at the making of a libation

The bull sons pour down
onto the belly of the mare
and under the gaze of the golden
chariot; are fruits borne.
It is your place to pour them
and proper for you to provide
them. Into my hands
place them and guide
me in my pouring.
May the libation be good.

Your hand at mine so the oblation may be proper
and the guest honoured.
Rosmerta; guide my pouring.

Brigantica approaches

2011-01-30T06:51:00.002Z

I really should get myself a proper diary; there are a few things coming up, projects about to begin and I find I will never keep it all in my head and something will invariably be forgotten. This year though I don't want to forget.

First things first; my allotment. Today I am off to do the last of the digging over and manuring. I will also be planning exactly what I am going to grow this year and 'plan' out my allotment year as it were.

Secondly, something is about to begin that I am going to be involved in that is very exciting indeed. It is something totally new, and very much a surprise offer. I cant really say much at this stage as it is very early indeed, I guess the only hint I can drop is 'Clan of Tubal Cain'.

The Horse Sacrifice. This is something that cropped up last year when I was thinking about and discussing the concept of sovereignty (along with a few blogasms on the subject). At the time, the notion of the horse sacrifice and the place of this ritual was on my mind; in some ways it find it a fascinating possibility and something I think I would like to re-create in some sense – obviously in a somewhat symbolic manner or making use of a 'dummy' horse rather than a full on mare. Perhaps the biggest hurdle right now is Rigantona. She and the Mare are one, and to kill an embodiment of a mare seems almost sacrilegious, even though I KNOW there is more to it than that and am not normally squeamish about things. Hell, I have a horse skull which I will be moving into my flat soon enough (it has been outdoors all winter 'seasoning'). This then forms another matter which I want to look into, mainly by looking into original sources and reports and academic analyses of these materials. Originally I came up with something involving a baked bread horse effigy which is 'killed' torn up and shared by the group as part of a yearly 're-establishing sovereignty' ritual. If that makes sense? It isn't something that can be rushed into, there are all manner of implications and more precisely, research to be done. I dont think this year will see the inauguration of our yearly Horse Sacrifice, but perhaps the groundwork will be set down in time for next year's gathering.

Lastly there is Rosmerta. As I have mentioned before, she is a deity well worth getting to know and in order to do this, I will be incorporating hymns to her in my personal practice as part of offering libations. This was started 2 weeks ago at full moon and will be carried on with the coming new moon and next Saturday’s Brigantica festivities. Hymns are pretty much written – as they tend to write themselves when needed.

One last thing, I have been compiling what can only be terms a Brythonic prayer book; all the hymns I and other members of Brython have written along with some ritual and myth. All together in a nice little document ready to be printed out once finished. I suppose if it appears good and fills up nicely – and the others at Brython approve – we can always upload it as a PDF to the internet and it can be freely available for people to download and make use of.

2011-01-13T00:40:00.002Z

This is somewhat pre-emptive but it does at least make a difference to doing things after the event. February Eve is two weeks away and I already have thoughts of how to mark it in mind;

Back at Halloween I bought three blood red roses and over three nights tore off the petals and scattered them on my altar, offered to Rigantona, where they were left to dry. They are still there now, and with the changing season – slowly and almost imperceptibly it is happening here – I will remove them along with the winter décor on the altar and throw them into the stream that feeds the lake in Crystal Palace park. I will gather some greens, new shoots and hopefully a few daffodils from the front garden (which decided to start sprouting back in November) and redecorate the altar. I will get a three white roses and again offer the petals over a few days. This certainly feels like the right thing to do in order to mark the changing year and tie it in with Her.

I just went back and looked up what I did at this time last year and it seems like I have subconsciously planned the same thing; I have even gone so far as to buy the steamed buns ahead of time. I don't think I will alter the ritual, it works fine, maybe some of the actions that go with it etc.

The main change I want to start introducing is the inclusion of a short hymn to Rosmerta. Over on CaerFeddwyd she has been brought up as a perfect example of a deity we should be aiming to foster a relationship with; she has what so many other gods lack and that is a useful iconogrphic and epigraphic history. We can be fairly sure she was consort to Lugus, we know her name means something like 'great provider' and that there are likely associations with pouring out drink and of sovereignty. I have a view in mind to include her when it comes to the libation, though I am not sure in what context yet.

Oh and I will be heading to St Bride's church in Fleet Street again this year and have been mindful to check when it will be open so as to avoid a repeat of the last time I visited. Perhaps also a stroll to the British Museum to have a look at Romano-British statuary.

A Desert..

2011-01-12T01:39:00.000Z

..of lapwings is apparently the correct collective noun. Odd that one, sounds rather miserable and rather barren. Which is a shame really considering the associations I have placed with them. I saw LOADS of them again, all in flight as I was leaving Fishguard and heading back to London. Kind of meaningful; I had spent a lot of time researching my agricultural ancestors, the kind who would most definitely had Ambactonos as patron were it not for a few accidents of history.

I have not really been happy with the ancestor side of my household cult observances, I am simply not feeling the connection. This was brought into the stark daylight over Christmas whilst I was back home in Wales when I was able to do a bit ore digging into my family tree and history – getting to mooch about the chapel graveyard in what I guess could be considered my ancestral home of Hayscastle and poring over censuses from 1841 and finding the family farm back then gave me more of a connection to these dead souls than my sitting over a cup of tea. It is now blindingly obvious that what I want is to for some sort of connection to these people; these people who made me who I am. The plan is to do some genealogical research at around the time of the new moon specifically (I will of course do some at other times) and dedicate that time to them as it were. When I am at a brick wall and in need of visiting the records office 300 miles away then perhaps it would be better to simply go over what I have or type up some of the stories I have heard about them (for instance; my great grandfather was the person the banks sent people to to borrow money when they weren't able, and as a result the poet Idwal Lloyd was able to put himself through uni on the back of a loan from Great Grandfather Thomas Davies). This to me I think kind of encapsulates what honouring my ancestors is about; remembering them and preserving their lives and legacies.

Vanellus

2010-12-26T20:46:00.000Z

Well, I did it last year and find myself once again on a bed at mum's house at Christmas writing something to go on this blog. I have been incredibly lax of late I know but don't really have much to blogasm about.

It is almost 2am, colder than a witches tit out and the sky is clear. There are more stars in the sky than I have seen in a long time – probably the last time I was outside of London and looking upwards. The moon has been beyond beautiful the past few days though hid behind clouds for the eclipse – a horrid task it was getting up at 7am after about 4 hours sleep and a bottle of Morgan's Spiced.

I have just returned in from the backyard where I did far more than the triple toast – I think I must've toasted about 8 times in all and don't think it too many as all were appropriate and timely. I am sure I have said before that this week of ritual and observance has felt like a worthwhile and rewarding set of practices, and as I am in the second year of this set of observances I have not changed my view, it has if anything reinforced it.

The only other significant thing worth mentioning is the lapwings. The part of west Wales I am from and currently am pottering about has not as far as I can recall in the 20 odd years I have been living and meandering about had many lapwings. I don't in fact recall ever seeing any. So it it is immediately significant to me that they are everywhere at the moment, all over the town and surrounding area. Now this is most likely to be something relating to migration patterns changing or being waylaid due to to the extreme weather we are having. It may not. What I do have niggling away in the back of my mind is that I should be taking something away from this; the daily sighting of many, many lapwings. With this perky little chaps I know I am straying into Iolo M. and Robert G. territory as the only relevance to me is Amaethon/Ambactonos. An association which isn't lost on my of late with the year swinging around to finishing off preparing my plot for sowing and a year of vegetable based sufficiency. The agricultural associations at the moment don't stop there; I have been chatting with my cousin who has been doing a lot of genealogy research of late and has re-sparked off my drive to do more work on it – and as I am at home with the genealogical resource otherwise known as 'old family members' at my fingertips it would be foolish not to make the most of it. I have set myself a target for the coming years to get back at least 5 generations on at least the Welsh side of the family and make an effort with the Irish side (they are going to be a bit harder to work on). The agricultural association there is that they are all farmers once you go back a single generation.

With new year coming up people will be making resolutions. I will not. I am shit at keeping that kind of thing so wont even make the poorest of attempts. Instead I have some thoughts about the kinds of things I will be working on;

five generations of genealogical research
refine existing personal practice
refine and clarify 'festival' based personal practice.
Ambactonos based practice

I think that will do for now, one or two other mad ideas popping up in my head right now are best kept for stewing over before committing to.

November

2010-11-08T22:31:00.000Z

November is here.

In some quarters it has just been the Celtic New Year. My view? bollocks. We have a perfectly good new year already within society, we don't need to go and invent another one. I mean, who really, genuinely feels the same about Nov 1st as they do Jan 1st? I certainly don't and I doubt many others so too, but then it is apparently 'anciente' and 'myfteriouf'. If I sound grouchy it is because I am, I have had a bad chest for almost 2 weeks now, plus the arse end of a cold too. On top of that I have lots to do at the museum and at home and all less than a week to do it in before I clear off to the wilds of Paraguay for 5 weeks.

The festival formerly known as Samhain - personally I slip back into Halloween and with enough ease as to remind myself that it is as perfectly good a name for it as any - has just emerged from the mists and is slowly sinking back into them. It is supposed to be the marker for the beginning of winter, the things is; it simply isnt winter here in south London. It is most definately autumn; golden leaves (and I really do mean golden at the moment) and a damp chilliness in the air. All those things that to me scream autumn. No frosts and no flesh shredding cold that slips not your bones and wont be shifted with anything less than a hot shower, nothing to me that says winter yet.

The remedy to this November festival of the dead and the beginning of winter is to slip a knife between them, pry them apart and take them as they should be; separate. Halloween is given back to the dead and only the dead - something like the Mexican Dias de los Muertos, whilst the 'Hello Mr Winter, how nice to see you again' festival - let's call it Winternights - to be observed when winter comes a knocking.

* * *

I knocked the above together a few days ago and didnt really feel in the mood to carry on writing.

This will probably by the last you hear from me until I get back from S America in mid to late December. We shall see if I have anything interesting to write about then.

Toodle-oo

The Shining Charioteer

2010-10-07T17:05:00.000+01:00

Righty then, as a commentator on the last blogasm asked; “who is the sun/cowherd in your cosmology?”

I mentioned that the Bull Sons of Taranis and their wives are the clouds. The Sun as I mentioned was formed from the eye of the first one – Dyeus - by Taranis at the making of the world and so isn't a god or goddess as such. To my mind the sun is borne aloft on/in a chariot driven by someone else. I should also point out that I don't actually believe these to be the case – we know what the sun is, where clouds come from and that the world was formed from by the accretion of dust and debris left over after the sun formed from hydrogen gas etc. This is all a mythic overlay of the world, a way of placing the gods within a framework, a tool with which to order and consider things.

So, the Shining Cowherd. Several gods are associated with Apollo from inscription and iconography. Grannus is a good candidate but not a deity with whom I have a connection. On the other hand, Belenus is also associated with Apollo and the name does mean 'shining one' (and also possibly 'henbane god' – for whatever that means and alludes too) and to me has a personal connection with healing springs, spas etc which are also known of as being connected with Grannus e.g Aquae granni in Germany.

Add into this the mention I have made before- prompted by Bo – that Belenus and Lugus were one and the same and that Lugus has some connection to harvests etc then it isn't too much of a stretch to consider that Lugus-Belenus is the solar charioteer to whom thanks are given at the harvest for a fine summer.

Something I came cross is mention of a 10 day festival to Grannus from an inscription:

POSTVMVS DV[M]

NORIGIS F(ilius) VERG(obretus) AQV

AM MARTIAM DECAM

NOCTIACIS GRANNI D(e) S(ua) P(ecunia) D(edit)

Translation: "The Vergobretus Postumus son of Dumnorix gave from his own money the Waters of Mars for the ten-night festival of Grannus"

Now presumably the Waters of Mars might be a drink of some sort – finding anything online is a pig as it brings up nothing but references to a Doctor Who special on last year. As to when this festival occurs – not a clue. But certainly something worth investigating at some point.

New Moon

2010-10-07T01:45:00.000+01:00

The new moon is days away so at some point later this week I will be lighting a candle for Briganti, leaving some food and milk for the household ungods and making a pot of tea for the ancestors.

Yesterday I rooted through some of the the boxes packed away after moving in to find some of my photo collections, mainly in a search for some photos I have of great grandparents and the like to tie in with the ancestor observances.

It occurred to me that to be perfectly frank, most of my immediate ancestors for probably a generation or so back really wouldn't approve of what I am doing as they were either staunch Catholic of Welsh Baptist. So I find myself wondering whether I should either (i) be arrogant enough to assume they now see things differently and persevere or (ii) carry on regardless of their disapproval. the fact of the matter is that those ancestors who would be more approving (probably) are the ones I don't know and never really will.

It is something of a dilemma.

Three in One

2010-10-03T21:12:00.002+01:00

The Bull Sons of Taranis

2010-10-02T23:21:00.000+01:00

I think I have mentioned these figures before in an idea for a myth and also in the blogasmed 'Hymn to Ambactonos'. A comment over on the Dun Brython site asked who these Sons of Taranis were.

To be honest they were something that emerged from my mind as I was writing, in the same way as the first of all animals appeared in the 'Making of the World'; funny ideas thrown up by my imagination during a bout of creativity.

This question though actually got me thinking about it a bit more and it was a pretty quick jump for me to decide on who these sons actually were and where they fit into the cosmology of mine.

They are the clouds.

More accurately, they are the rain clouds that scud overhead, whose milk is the rain that waters the land and whose hooves thunder and make the sky tremble when they are in full flight. They have wives of course! These wives are the herds of clouds who fill our skies; the white clouds upon the blue plains of the heavens.

The idea of clouds as cows isn't nothing new, in fact they are regarded as such in the Rig Veda and tie in with Indra quite a lot (Indra being cognate with Taranis).

So a new layer to my own cosmology; the herds of the sky led out each dawn and shepherded across the sky by the chariot of the sun. often the while, gentle wives and sometimes the Bull Sons come with their three voices of rain, thunder and lightning. What is particularly useful is that these rainclouds are personified in the Rig Veda as Parjanya and there are three hymns to him. these might serve as a useful basis for 'adaptation' and use within practical devotional work along with hymns to Ambactonos etc. Also of note is that these hymns could also be viewed as incantations of sorts asking Parjanya to come and water the land.

Summon the powerful god with these songs;

praise Parjanya; win him over with homage.

The bellowing bull.

freely flowing with luscious drops

places his seed in the plants as an embryo

Trans. W. Doniger 1981

A Hymn to Ambactonos

2010-09-27T22:23:00.001+01:00





















: the stars and heavens and the passing of the seasons.; The one who knows the movements of the chariot of the sun; and the bull sons of Taranis, as well as he knows the furrow; in the soil and the green things which grow.; Ambactonos; he who knows how to till and to sow; to caress the earth and tease life from it. He who knows; when the dew will lie and the rains fall, to quicken the growth; of the seed he has planted within Rigantona's embrace.
Ambactonos; he who knows the face of the sun: and how his gaze will fall. He who knows the edge of the blade; that cuts at the harvest and when the two should meet.; All of this knowledge and all of this skill, Ambactonos; I ask for a draught.; I tend to be reticent about posting liturgy up on here. That said this is one of those times when I sat down with an idea half formed of what I wanted to appear on the screen and a few minutes later I had three stanzas. It seemed an appropriate and proper thing to do in advance of my beginning work on the allotment this coming weekend - weather permitting - and to go with the first speaking of this hymn I am offering Ambactonos a portion of my first harvest. In this case that happens to be my first batch of home sprouted mung beans currently nearing readiness for eating on the windowsill.

Theurgy

2010-09-24T00:43:00.000+01:00

I learned a new word recently: theurgy. Which is rather handy as it is something that encapsulates nicely the one element missing from my personal practice at the moment. I would like to think I have got my lunar devotional work to a good place; it has been something like 8 months now and I am keeping up with it all – pretty much, aside from the odd day slippage when life throws something up - which is good for me.

So I think this is certainly an area to focus on for the time being, especially in terms of the 'how to'. There are a number of trance practices which I can draw upon here and some of which I have experience with, that said working on something new isn't a bad thing at all. We shall see and I shall of course post a report! Wild hallucinations and all! (in fact I am looking forward to those somewhat)

In addition, I have been considering the possibility of incorporating Taranis into my personal practice. Originally I was thinking of slotting him into the lunar devotional cycle but this just doesn't feel right. So, the possibility of a lesser yearly festival to him cropped up and this seems to fit better for now. The next thing to consider is when to do this – someone has suggested elsewhere that when the first thunderstorms begin – and this seems like a good point to bear in mind.

Then, last week I was woken 2 days on the trot by the honking of geese flying overhead, an occurrence whose meaning wasn't lost on me. Coupled with the only thunder I have heard in London this year the week before it seemed like and certainly occurred to me that this was a big hint. So, I have my time, I have my place I just need now to establish what I will do.

Last of all, another one of those things that has been playing on my mind of late is setting up of a magical working group, perhaps a teaching coven. That said it wont be a Wiccan one (at least not initially as I am not in a position to do so and don't really have the desire to do so either at the moment) and will be a straightforward religious witchcraft coven based around a set of deities whom I already have in mind. Without going into more detail at this early stage it will mesh together general witchcraft within a framework of gods and ritual akin to what I have been developing myself, so whilst it pains me use this term at the moment it is somehow more descriptive and fitting; Brythonic witchcraft. I need to give this a lot more thought and embark on discussion with various parties. Then again, I might not and do so further in the future in a similar guise. So, once again I will have something different to blogasm about.

Green Fingers

2010-08-23T12:06:00.002+01:00

I will probably change the remit of this blog a little I think. Not much ‘new’ is happening and so I don’t want to leave it to either become a barren wasteland and I don’t want it to become somewhere I occasionally pop in and ramble about nothing. I am sure that if any new projects come along I will talk about them, I can also foresee the occasional blogasm on how my lunar devotionals are coming along too.

So, for now… the newest project to enter my life;

I have an allotment!

My friend in Downe who I mentioned briefly has a large several acre field out the back of her house which she owns. She currently has a small patch of veggie growing which feeds the two of them comfortably and provides a glut of some produce too. As of this weekend I am going to take on a plot 5x5m to grow some food on. I am horrifically excited and have already been planning what I want to grow, the plan being is that me and N wont overlap on produce too much so we can share what we get out of it and both of us will benefit. In addition, we discovered a huge stand of Damsons, a huge stand of Rosehips plus some other semi-wild fruit trees and will be in a jamming and preserving frenzy over the coming weeks. I have gone on before about wild food harvesting and this year the whole affair has gone off with a bang; we spent Saturday night making damson Cheese and have the

princely amount of 4 kilos. The other 3 kilos of damsons we picked (nowhere near using up the potential crop from the hedgerow) will be used in other ways; I will be making them into damson gin and vodka.

Next weekend I am going to be pillaging the elderberries from nearby, collecting crabapples for jellying and drying and having a look at a promising cherry tree I saw.

I would like to say this is all about weaving myself into the landscape more; relying upon it more for my living and by extension giving back more too. I think that is probably about 40% of it, the other 60% is a mix of desire to give this a whirl and sheer need to cut my cost of living. With an uncertain future – the NHM is government funded and looks to be arsefucked in the upcoming government spending review – I need to look at ways of cutting the cost of living in the way I am accustomed. Part of this is to get what food I can as cheaply as I can and where possible; for free.

I think this will be an interesting development, I am sure there will be ramifications for my spiritual and religious practices and so will make use of this fetile new ground as a means of producing content for this blog.

Rabid Beast

2010-08-12T22:45:00.001+01:00

Once again it has been a long time since I have posted. I cant really offer an explanation – perhaps one or two contributory factors I guess – other than to say, I have been doing other things and sometimes when I sit down to write a post I simply cannot be arsed to get past a single line or two.

Two weeks ago I moved home; I now have my own studio in Crystal Palace which is frankly rather nice for a studio and is beginning to feel like my own home after a week or so of it … not.

Once I was in and had a free night to myself I set about an evening of ritual activity; I carried out my household cult ritual with some ad-hoc words thrown in for the occasion. Went about “smudging” the place with frankincense and generally welcomed the spirits to the new home. The gods were offered food and drink and went about making an offering to the large oak and yew trees in the shared gardens. I see it as an opportunity to increases the household cult by incorporating – if it works out that way – the spirits outside as well as inside the home.

I have had a whole suite of vaccinations over the past week in anticipation of a month long trip to the wilds of west Paraguay – and frankly felt like shit-on-a-stick for a few days after them. Today's rabies jab and the way I felt afterwards seem to indicate that the swine flu and rabies jabs are what did me in for almost a full 4 days.

Lammas has been and gone, the beginning of the harvest season has come and tomorrow I will be partaking in it; I am off to a friend's who lives outside Bromley in a small rural Village (Downe) where we will be off out picking blackberries, elderberries, damsons and maybe some pears and apples growing somewhat ferrally(especially in the grounds of the Buxton browne site in the link above, there is a pear tree there that gave me a black eye last year. bastard). I will probably spend Friday evening and Saturday processing them into jams, jellies and cordials (a fair chunk of the elderberries being made into Elder Rob again).

I am getting to the satge of not being in the mood to write more so will sign off here and come back to this when I have something more interesting to do.

As an aside, as I have limited internet in the new place at the moment I have been occupying my time with some “creative writing” and by that I mean speculative palaeontology, effectively inventing a new world of fossils and palaeontology to play with. I have far more ideas than I can commit to binary for now so I think this little exercise will keep me busy for a while.

Summertide

2010-07-14T13:04:00.002+01:00

A two month hiatus is pretty over the top for me, it is I think the longest I have gone without posting at least something.

In the two months since I last posted I have been continuing with my lunar observances, observed the solstice and general been thinking about things and getting on with them.

I thoroughly enjoy the lunar observances; as someone who is awful at regular devotional work and who only managed to do a month of daily observances with some effort and even them missed a day or two here and there, it comes as relief that I am able to manage fortnightly observances with relative ease (albeit adjusting the night sometimes to allow for people being at my place – I prefer the peace of an empty flat for this). They have also been opening up thought patterns is how I relate to these gods and spirits, to the point now that I am planning what I will do in terms of the household cult when I move house in 2 weeks. I suppose in a way this has caused a shift in my way of thinking so that these activities are sliding into place within my mundane life rather than there being a clear sacred-profane delineation. All very good, to my mind.

The solstice came and went; I observed it at the same time as the other members of Brython, using some of the same actions and words as they were. Again this has reinforced this as being a particularly useful and meaningful thing to do.

Other than that, life is rather busy; my contract at work is up in a month so I need to sort something. I have to move house by the end of the month so am busy dealing with that and at work things have been particularly busy these past 2 weeks. I look forward to some peace and tranquillity as late summer comes. At about which time it will be the time of Harvests. This year I wont be celebrating in the ‘normal’ way, as it is of course geared toward grain harvests which I of course don’t have. I am thinking of ways in which to mark the harvest season – and season it is, not an event – and am thinking of something involving the first wild fruit harvests I bring in. maybe when I have considered it more I will be in a mood and mind-frame to post something on here.

Rituals of Sovereignty

2010-05-13T23:08:00.002+01:00

So, onto this sovereignty matter and the use of ritual.

I was on the bus home today and the Catholic mass come to mind – as it can do at times – and especially the part with the Eucharist and holy communion. It appears that this really is the crux of the mass – and something similar features within Wiccan ritual. It is if you like, the part of the mass that the mass has been created for. It has purpose and of course meaning, it could be said it is the legacy of JC himself and what he was building up to (certainly in the case of Catholicism). And so it is that every Sunday (or Saturday evening if you were more into that kind of timing for your masses) that this element of the mass recreates something that was first established by the son of god himself, he explicitly requested they do this symbolic ritual in order to maintain the connection between God and the faithful.

This re-creative thing could be something upon which to build in terms of a ritual of renewal of sovereignty. Something done in a group setting, where the group collectively renews the sovereignty bestowed onto them by the goddess in question. This renewal is for both group and individual renewal. I cant see how the place of a sovereign can be established and his function fulfilled, I suppose this is one of those changes made to older ideas to be more in line with the 21st century we all live in, not to diminish the process, but more of adapting to work in a modern world.

The question really is; how do you know if Rigantona has granted you sovereignty? Do you assume she is hunky-dory or go in for divination of some sort? I can envisage some sort of divinatory event or events in which the 'message' is transmitted, and if favourable a feast prepared when the tribe gather. Foods cooked by those attending brought together and cooked - perhaps a loaf of home made bread in the form of a horse is included – and the finest part set aside for Her. Offerings of food and drink are made; what we have received from the and, we now offer back to complete the circle. The horse is killed, it's head dipped into red wine and offered. The rest torn up and shared between those attending. In doing so we have offered back what we have taken in hope of the obligation of return in the coming year. We have taken the form of the land and torn her body up to be shared between us, we take her away as part of us only to bring her back again a year hence and once again remake the circle.

Simple, symbolic and potential a powerful and moving ritual if performed with fitting liturgy.

Interestingly while I was looking for some images to add to this I stumbled across this link describing a Siberian horse sacrifice ritual.

Sovereignty

2010-05-11T21:52:00.002+01:00

This is of course a matter of sovereignty and its place within contemporary paganism, primarily so those strands which have a strong focus upon the relationship between the landscape, the people and the gods and how all three come together as one in a form of meta-ecosystem. This isn't about political sovereignty, the role of the state or head thereof – the Queen in the case of the United Kingdom – as we live in a larger society and these concepts have their place in a society-wide framework. This is really more about a kind of religo-magical sovereignty; the relationship between the person and the landscape.

There are a couple of things I just want to throw in at this point without going into in detail right now (I can refer back to the courses when needed and if needed);

1. the place of horses as representations of landscape and their part in views of sovereignty
2. the marriage of king and mare followed by mating and eating of the mare
3. the horse associated goddess Riannon in the mabinogi, her role within sovereignty and the effect of her mistreatment and disappearance
Mitra-Varuna/Odhinn-Tyr/Lugus-Nodens as embodiments of how the human component functions within the sovereign relationship

The religo-magical component has been all but removed from sovereignty in the modern world, if it does exist it is in a merely vestigial form. Politics, law and the place of The State have come to primacy. The landscape is a belonging, an asset almost, of the state and the people which they have a legal right to make use of and exploit. It has pretty much become a commodity. This mindset is now inescapable in the modern world and trying to get away from it is an exercise in futility.

So, to quote someone who has already expressed it in a clear and expressive manner (Deiniol):

"sovereignty" is not an inherent power or attribute of a tribe: it has to be granted by its proper owner. Without the sovereignty, the tribe has no right to live on the land: it is not theirs to possess or use or rule over. Therefore, to me, "sovereignty" could be defined as "the gift of place". I am not a Brython because I was born in these islands, nor because my ancestors have lived here for generations. That's not important. I belong to Britain, and Britain belongs to me, because the sovereignty goddess allows it: it is solely by her grace (to use the Christian term) that I can interact with the land."

The goddess of sovereignty, in my world-view; Rigantona, forms that connection of proper person and proper power via the king or ruler in a tribal society. As a group of people spread out in the landscape such an arrangement falters, so a slightly different method of obtaining the right to live on the land must be sought and obtained but on an individual basis. I do also wonder if perhaps it is something that could be sought as a group; a group where a common understanding of what is required and expected is met and as such taken on by individuals and a group at the same time. Effectively, sovereignty is granted to the group as a whole and to the people as individuals. A burden then lies on those individuals to uphold their responsibility for their own sake and the sake of the group.

From what I have been reading of late, the role of a Mitra-Varuna pairing also come into play with regards to the functioning of this relationship. I think it might be something to come back to later. In addition 'how' this sovereignty is obtained and divulged to the group/individuals needs some thought.

Calan Mai

2010-05-10T17:47:00.000+01:00

The word around me is fresh green and cream. The trees have been pushing out new growth with a vengeance and the blossom on the Prunus is everywhere. London is looking pretty. It means that the windows in my flat are open 24 hours a day leaving the place feeling and smelling fresh, something which is surprising for London, but then I suppose it should be ‘London fresh’ which is probably a shade or two further down the fresh spectrum that other parts of the country. This is my kind of spring and the kind of summer I would want; warm, sunny yet not too hot and humid. Fingers crossed.

The wheel is turning and we are well into the season of sunshine and growth; soon will be an appropriate time to mark this change and celebrate the calends of May.

I spent the first weekend of May in Snowdonia with other people from Brython. I have met some of them before; though meeting the others was perhaps the most important part of the weekend for me. To go from online interaction to a face to face ‘format’ is hugely valuable, itself as an experience and also for future contact; having a voice, a face and a way of talking to apply to otherwise anonymous communication is fantastic.

We spent the first night camping out in a field on the banks of the Conwy, a bit chilly – colder than a witch’s tit to be accurate – but a nice way of easing out of urban life. An early start the next day and we were climbing into the mountains. Everything about the landscape there reminds me of home: the hills, the peaks, and the rolling heath-land. I could just as well have been in north Pembs for all I knew. I think was the biggest kick for me; the feeling of being back in a familiar place, the ‘hiraeth’. Lately I have been almost pining to move back into a more rural setting or at least on the very hinterland between rural and urban.

We walked for a few hours up into the mountains along what I presume is a fairly old track; winding up into the hills and with wayside sheep folds that would have been the peeling off point for farmers making this trip to maintain their very livelihood. The showers that fell from the sky occasionally were welcome in some respect to cool me off – a rucksack with an additional 5kg of fuel on your back for an uphill climb can get the internal furnace firing up.

There was a weird juxtaposition between frogspawn in the puddles, fledging skylarks and the snow that still clung on it the highest peaks. It was as if there was a very literal intermingling of spring and winter, the weather only went to enhance that.

Twenty four hours later we walked down from that wild, windy and lonely place. As Potia has described; it was very much a case of going up there in winter and coming down in spring.

I had expectations of that weekend, they weren’t realised but I think what I got out of ti was far more important; spending time with a community; building those community bonds which we hope only to strengthen. And of course being there alongside someone making a very real journey; far more than a simple trek into the mountains. It seems almost surreal in some respects, as if she underwent the journey and we were pulled along with her into it as guides/support/companions. I think I know what my place was in those events and I am pleased and honoured to be part of it. More so because of the lessons I have learned as a result.

There has been a bit of a hiatus on here of late, I have things I want to expunge but am totally lethargic about. I think sovereignty will feature in the next couple of posts as it is something that needs addressing.

Wiltshire Weekend

2010-04-13T00:05:00.000+01:00

I spent the weekend down in Wiltshire at a friends – we shall call her N – where I occasionally disappear to, to relax and spent time with people I am close to.

On arriving, N's sister C – another close friend – was there with her kids too, and was pleased to hear that the previous Halloween they had gone to swallowhead spring to hold a smell ritual. The best part was that they read out loud Bo's myth of how the willow came to be at Swallowhead Spring [ pics below ]. We paid a visit to the spring and spent a good hour or so just pottering about there and gazing at the rivulets of water pouring out of the rock. It was also nice to see that although the willow trees were festooned with cloth ribbons, the décor was what you might call 'tasteful' with minimal tat or plastic rubbish wrapped around the twigs.

We paid a visit to the long barrow, sat around inside and took away spent tea-lights. Wandering along the banks of the Kennet and made our way around Avebury.

Nice sights were the Red Kite, several Skylarks in competition – one song to declare; fuck me, fight me or fuck off' as N put it – a close encounter with a roe deer about 20 feet away who was incredibly relaxed and not all that bothered by our presence.

We also popped into the Alex Keiller museum to see the human remains on display, notably Charlie, who has been at the centre of a ridiculous charade of utter fuckwankery. Thankfully common sense has prevailed, below is a pic of Charlie in her case within the hugely educational setting have proved to be a fitting memorial and form of immortality.

These are the results, now, piss off.

2010-04-06T17:43:00.001+01:00

I have noticed that the ‘results’ over the Avebury Child consultation and review are in. This is something I blogasmed about a while back and was rather disparaging of the view of CoBDO and the like.

The wonderful news is that the remains will stay at the museum and fuckwits like CoBDO will not be able to perform their am-dram bullshit over the remains.

The result and associated surveys etc are to be found here, I would recommend the survey that was carried out and the results of it; 91% of people surveyed – with a higher proportion of pagans than in the general population – said that remains should be displayed and be available for research. If this isn’t a mandate for the future to tell CoBDO and it’s ilk to piss off then I don’t know what is.

I will be at the museum this weekend coincidentally and shall make a point of visiting the remains of ‘Charlie’ and be sure to mention t one of the staff that I am glad the result that was reached, was, well, reached.

2010-04-01T16:30:00.002+01:00

I’m in a funny mood at the moment; becoming more insular. I have over the past few days deleted my membership to a number of old yahoo groups which I have been a member of for years – in some cases sine I first got online about 9 years ago -, deleted my membership to the BBC Pagan boards; mainly because it has become intensely boring with very little of value discussed these days, instead a cliqueiness has sprung up in which threads quickly descend into talk of ‘Mighty Olive Crayon’, Straight Jackets covered in all manner of personal decoration and a ‘Glitter Room’. It’s the kind of non-ironic chatter I would expect from some teenagers trying to look amusing on the internet but coming from adults who are in some cases middle aged it is painful to watch. There is also now an intense air of paranoia towards new people or those who stand out. It is probably all about the rose tinted glasses but back 9 years ago it was a far more interesting place to be and talk, the kind of places where you make friends and stay friends with them in real life for years afterwards (which in my case I have several as a result).

I am just finding that ‘pagan’ sites just don’t do it for me any more, nothing seems to happen on them; only rarely does it get interesting and even then it is a flame war which is drawing the interest. Either I am becoming desensitized to the internet or I have outgrown these places. I am currently only a member of 3 website; Caer Feddwyd and the private Brython Forum plus Esoteric Source where a lot of friends hang out these days. Maybe it is because I have gone from talking about doing to actually… well, doing.

Spring

2010-03-26T13:56:00.000Z

Well, it seems that Blogger has added some bells and whistles to these blogs so I guess it would be rude not to make use of them.

I don’t have an awful lot to report; my lunar based observances are progressing, I am getting a lot from the Household Cult based one and have the second Rigantona based one upcoming. As time goes on I am realising this is the perfect format for me to work within.

Spring is here! About a week ago there was a very clear, very distinct shift in the climate here; it went from cold, bitterly so, to being rather mild and much sunnier. This pattern has continued and the sunny and mild weather is still with us. The elder tree in next door’s garden which I can see from my bathroom window (something to gaze at whilst brushing my teeth) is beginning to put out shoots, there is a blackthorn in blossom with some leaf buds popping out on the way down to Brixton. This relatively sudden outburst of photosynthetic activity is heartening , I really enjoy this kind of climate; sunny yet not too hot, with a fresher feel to the air (as fresh as London can get though I guess).

A sessile nature is hard to shake

2010-03-10T23:38:00.006Z

I am being particularly lethargic at the moment in all sorts of facets of life – obviously this being one.

Right now I am in the 2 week lull of the lunar ritual calendar I have set myself and it is a kind of odd feeling; on one hand I want to find something that can fill this 'gap' and on the other I dont.

* * *

I have done some book shopping: Comparative Mythology, Indo-European stuff and this essay on a pair of Vedic deities who have a connection with a pair of Brythonic ones.

The connection between Mitra and Varuna and Lugus and Nodens has been a bit hazy and not something I could grasp and getmy head around really; certainly in a way that seems fitting and relevant to me and my practices. That said, there has been a lightbulb moment recently in which things are slotting into place. How they fit into the grander cosmology of things is another matter and something which will reveal itself in time I suppose.

* * *

Other than that, things have been quiet; some interesting developments at work which may see me spending a month in Paraguay on fieldwork, or doing a Phd which would be rather interesting in and of itself but more so as it would involve lots of fieldwork in southeast Asia. I am also currently working on a digital reconstruction of a dinosaur brain case and the neural canals within the skull from CT scans, for publication.

On that rather off topic note I think I will leave it there for now.

Full Moon - Rigantona

2010-02-25T14:36:00.007Z

Today is the full moon. Within my lunar observances this means it is a time to honour Rigantona.

The household cult ritual I performed two weeks ago was wonderful; as someone who hasnt made use of a teapot (with associated milk jug and sugar bowl) at home in far too many years, the chance to sit down at a table and make a cup of tea in this way was not only strangely nostalgic but also had that strong sense of 'other' - something I dont normally do and something special I am doing for this specific time and purpose only. I guess it comes down to separating the mundane from the sacred (in as much as a cuppa can be sacred).

There is something also reassuring about this regular, fixed and planned manner of reverence. Something not too easy to put into words but something that appeals, something that I am drawn to (my inner Roman Catholic altar boy clammering to get back out) and something I cant help but feel should remain part of my personal practice.

Anyway, tomorrow is set aside for Rigantona. At present this is what I might call a 'developing' relationship, so i dont have a prepared hymn to offer to Her. I could on one hand borrow from Deiniol and his hymn, but this time I think it best not to and to allow a hymn to develop itself over time based upon my personal experiences.

That said, for the past three days I have had the words to a song in my head' rolling over and over and the closer it gets to tomorrow the more I feel they are somehow... relevant, if not in the form that has possessing my mind then the sentiment behind them.

* * *

Briganti, mother of the flame, may I pray with a good fire
Briganti, mother of the flame, may I sacrifice well

Into the eye of the first one did Taranis blow life,
the frost in the bones of the land melts away,
the flesh of the land flushes with life
as the blood of the oceans runs hot on the shore

some incense is lit;

Briganti of the flame,
weave our words into your veil, bear it aloft;
to Taranis the sky father
to the Grey Mare on the hill
and to the Lord in the Wave

Incense is burnt

Great Queen,
Mare on the Hill,
The heart in this landscape
I offer you this, as it is proper for me to do so.

The Household Cult

2010-02-12T14:45:00.004Z

The new moon is a day or two away and I have some plans; on Sunday the 14th (new moon proper) I am off out for a Chinese New Year dinner with some friends so will be carrying out the cult rituals earlier in the day.

I had a brand new – and well overdue –cooker fitted during the week and last night was the first time I got to use it. It seemed appropriate to say a few words to Briganti over it and light the oil lamp prior to lighting the stove – or flicking the switch to let the electric flow as it were.

In terms of ancestors, I have become ever so slightly hooked on Ancestry.co.uk and have been tracing back my family tree. I am in the somewhat fortunate position I guess to know most of my immediate and very large family already and have ideas about great-grandparents whom I recall from being a teeny-weeny little Lee. I think this process of finding out about them – their birth, marriage, children and death – goes somewhat towards fulfilling parts of my ancestral practices. I have pretty much reached the limit of my current onboard knowledge at about four generations so am now in the position of having to go and speak with relatives to find out what my great-grandfather’s first name was, who he married, her maiden name etc. it is all proving thoroughly enjoyable and I am looking forward to being able to use late 19thC censuses to get information on whole families. What I do know is that there is at least 250 years of farming history on one piece of land, I just need to trace back the people involved now.

So, come Sunday this is my plan;

The Briganti Flame is lit:

Briganti, mother of the flame, may I pray with a good fire Briganti, mother of the flame, may I sacrifice well

Briganti; your flame in this house
Fill my home with your warmth
Briganti: your flame at my hearth
May it be bright for all who dwell here
Briganti: your flame in my hands
May I work well, may I sacrifice well, and may I honour the gods well.

Food and drink offered

* * *

To the Ladies of this house,
The Matres of this home;
I offer you this food ,as is right to do so
I offer you this drink, as is proper to do so

Food and drink offered

* * *

To those who have gone before me,
those loved, and those never known,
come to me,
share a drink with me

A pot of tea made, a cup of hot, sweet tea offered and come quiet time.

Maija Gimbutas

2010-02-04T12:47:00.002Z

I went and ordered Marija Gimbutas' "The Living Goddesses" this morning on a whim (ordering on Amazon is far too easy) largely because I came across her ideas while back in university and found a book of hers in the uni library. It was interesting at the time though I didnt make a proper job of going through it, I was probably being distracted by papers on brachiopod functional morphology and pyritization of soft tissues.

Her name haas been cropping up lately in some of the books I have been reading on the Indo-Europeans so I though it time to see what the fuss is about.

From what I recall she had a tendancy to regard everything as 'goddess' this and 'goddess' that; any imagery of an animal was a bear goddess or vulture goddess. Now, I might be simplifiying somewhat from what I recall but this bothered me and sounds like exactly what you find on a wesbite by someone who has read the mabinogion and takes it to be a well preserved mythic corpus (I might have been guilty of doing this myself in the past to be honest).

Trifurcations

2010-02-01T17:46:00.002Z

Right now I have two options before me; compile a database listing 4600 drawers of specimens, their geological age, geographical location and the species contained therein. Or do an accompanying statement for a job application.

The obvious thing is to invent a third task and do that. So here we go…

I have recently been delving into things proto-Indo European and Indo-European. On one hand more academically minded books such as West’s Indo-European Poetry and Myth and the on-order Mallory’s In search of the Indo-Europeans: language, archaeology and myth. On the other hand I bought Ceiswr Serith’s Deep Ancestors.

The value in the first two is that they provide a very well put out ‘what came before’ for someone like me interested in the Britons of roughly 2000 years ago. They set out what we can know from comparative study of the I.E people, what their religious ideas developed in to in various corners of their distribution and as such begin something of a reconstruction of the missing pieces. Couple this with post-Celtic academic work, archaeology and Romano-British evidence and we can make a two pronged ‘attack’ of the time-slice and its inhabitants we are interested in.

So, comparative work can offer insights into what a creation myth might have looked like, who the first gods were and something of the people’s relationship with them. The value of Vedic sources comes into its own here too. It can give glimpses of the gods who are known only from a name.

Serith’s contribution goes back one temporal step to the P.I.E people and using similar lines of academic evaluation reconstructs what the religion would have been like, he then also sets out a kind of ritual framework that is at the very least nothing short of as truthful as possible to the reconstruction. Whilst that side of his book was of less value to me, the main body where he lays out his reasoning and re-assembles the pantheon is wonderful. It provides something of a framework with which to keep an eye on when doing similar for the Brythonic version.

So, all in all, the take home message from this diversion from paid work is to make use of Indo-European sources, they are probably far more instructive than anything you might buy which uses the mabinogion as a basis.

Imbolc

2010-01-31T22:36:00.005Z

This evening I did my Imbolc/Gwyl Ffraid ritual. Idealy I would have done it either Friday or Saturday night but as it was I spent Friday at a friends funeral and then all day Saturday with a her daughter who is close friends from work. It felt... wrong to be having my ritual before today.

* * *

This is the first ritual I have performed in this manner and I really like it, it is certainly a model I will be adopting for my monthly observances and probably also seasonal celebrations.

I have a Roman style oil lamp (reproduction) that I use, this was lit:

Brigantia, mother of the flame, may I pray with a good fire
Brigantia, mother of the flame, may I sacrifice well

a single white candle I have had for a few years and light only at this time was then lit from the central Briganti flame;

Into the eye of the first one did Taranis blow life,
the frost in the bones of the land melts away,
the flesh of the land flushes with life
as the blood of the oceans runs hot on the shore

from the central flame some incense was lit;

Brigantia of the flame,
weave our words into your veil, bear it aloft;
to Taranis the sky father
to the Grey Mare on the hill
and to the Lord in the Wave

Bride of our hearth
Bless this place
With warmth
With shelter
With fire that burns for us.

Bride of our streams
Of wells and water courses
Asperge our land
With rain
With dew.

Bride of the candles
Lit for your remembrance
Bright be your blessings
As the Sun climbs higher
In his Winter rising.

Bride of our company
Of links and friendship
Across Brigantia, the isles
Of your people:
Veil us within the bounds of belonging.

Some honeyed and warmed milk was then poured into a bowl which had some dark rum in it;

Briganti; I offer this milk, as it is right for me to do so

a steamed bun was then placed in a bowl at the altar;

Briganti; I offer this food, as it is right for me to do so

a little of the steamed bun was burned in the flame.

Then I did the triple toast, something shared with the other members of Brython in the same manner and at the same time.

Incensed!

2010-01-18T22:48:00.004Z

If there is such thing as a fourth wall in blogging then I am about to breach it. This is a direct appeal to my readers – first of all, thanks for reading and commenting and following me.

Now, I need your assistance with something:

I am going to make some of my own loose incense to be burned – as a mentioned a post or two ago – but have only a very rudimentary idea of what the hell to do. I have it in my head that to make a good incense you need a base 'woody' substance which isn't too fragrance to form the bulk of the incense to which herbs or resins can be added to achieve the desired aroma.

So, what forms a nice low fragrance base?

I have some myrrh and am going to get some frankincense soon as these are resins which I know I like. I am very fortunate that I have the Baldwins shop a five minute walk up the road.

The frankincense has a light, citrus scent to it and I have some benzoin too which although it reminds me of fly-spray in smell will be ideal to add an almost metallic twang to the overall aroma. Perhaps something else too, though as this is intended to be an incense for Taranis I shall have to work on it.

I have seen that honey can be used – the idea of a honey laced incense for Rigantona appeals – and also wine so I think when I am feeling more daring I will have a stab at using these. Oh and I have a sufficiently stocked spice cupboard so will be experimenting with ginger, mixed spice etc.

at this point it is over to you and your wise words and help.

oh, I also have some Palo Santo here too - bloody amazing on its own. i have some powdered too so no doubt some will find it's way in.

Altar Space

2010-01-17T21:10:00.006Z

I currently share a flat with my best mate from uni, we also work together at the NHM. There is very little space in our flat to have a shelf set aside in the 'shared' areas and an equally small amount of space in my own room. That said, I have a small space on my west facing window where I have room for “stuff”. I was looking on-line for something that could be appropriated as a shrine space and came across Etsy where people hawk their wares, one of the people on there makes small wooden (4”x3” ish size) shrines presumably more for the hobbycraft market. A few dollars each and they are rather nice.

So, some imagery pulled together to form some sort of collage icon and bits and pieces added and they form a nice small shrine. At some point when space become more abundant these can be transferred to form the focal point of a larger altar space.

Mokkonos: boar tusk, pig teeth and a small carved human skull.

Rigantona: flint and chalk/bone and flesh of the land, white orchid blossom

Ritual and Liturgy

2010-01-17T21:08:00.005Z

I have given thought to the format for ritual observances and read the practices of others to see how such a format strikes me. I do have an idea in mind; something I came across a while ago and think could be adapted very easily and function very well. It certainly appeals to my sense of ritual. For now, some of the liturgy is of my own, some is poached from Deiniol until I can prepare some of my own (or realise that his works wonderfully well and doesn't need replacing. Either way, many thanks are owed to him).

At the shrine or altar a candle is lit:

Brigantia, mother of the flame, may I pray with a good fire

from this flame a charcoal block ignited and placed in a burner:

Into the eye of the first one did Taranis blow life,

the frost in the bones of the land melts away,
the flesh of the land flushes with life
as the blood of the oceans runs hot on the shore

Brigantia of the flame;
weave our words into your veil, bear it aloft;
to Taranis the sky father
to the Grey Mare on the hill
and to the Lord in the Wave

Some incense is placed onto the charcoal and an appropriate hymn recited for the deity being addressed. Further incense can be added for further prayer or simply during silent meditation.

Any other offering of food or drink is then made with some appropriate and as yet unwritten words.

A New Year

2010-01-16T22:33:00.005Z

It has been almost 2 months now since I did a post on here so forgive me if this turns into something of an epic. Whether it will be followed by regular sequels remains to be seen but I think it about time I got my arse back in gear as such.

The Midwinter Season

An odd shift seems to have taken place; I have always really looked at the winter solstice and holiday 'season' as a series of largely solar events. Sunset on the 21st and sunrise on the 25th etc being points of importance in the seasons from a purely solar point of view. This year though there is a strong emphasis on how I feel about things, it is all turning around to point at Rigantona. It feels like I am no longer focussing on the cause of what's going on, but realising it is all about the effects; right here on solid ground. It is more about what the change in the sun's pathway means to the landscape and of course me. As someone who loves the cold weather and revels in the snowy landscape we have been living in for a couple of weeks, I cant help but feel a tingle of what is about to happen to the world around me. That to me is part of what the celebration is about. Anyhow, that said I flunked up on maintaining anything like the plans I had for marking Eponalia, the solstice and the 25th; fasting during daylight for 4 days after arriving back home and visiting family simply don't mix. Food is simply brought before you and considering that my gran and cousins are rather splendid cooks it just simply didn't cross my mind not to dig in. I did pop outside and make the triple toast and libations; under the stars, overlooking the sea in my mum's back garden. In some ways I am a little disappointed, in others not; I was on the train home on the 28th – Eponalia – and spent it passing snow smothered England, the highlight watching snow settling on the White Horse at Uffington (passing it and seeing it has become something of a highlight, something that deserves a mental salutation). I think this recent season I have gained a new appreciation, and find that I am more settled and comfortable in my place within the scheme of things.

Starry, Starry night

the night time stroll to see my father when back home – divorced parents – reinforced that the heavens should play a part in my ritual calendar. The sense of awe and wonder never diminishes; the bolt down my spine and flutter in my heart are as strong as ever when I look up to see Orion or a merest peek of a new moon. Recent discussions on Caer Feddwyd and other blogs of importance have inspired me on how this will happen.

I am going to begin pulling together a set of observances based upon a lunar calendar;

1: the new moon, that point where the light of the moon is absent will be a time to remember the ancestors in a very simple form. Potia has talked about her own practices and reminded me of something I did a fair while back. It will be a simple affair; light a candle and make a cup of tea. A chat, a remembrance and nothing more. I am going to begin gathering photos of my recent deceased ancestors of whom I have no pictures, and to learn their stories.

2: three nights after the new moon will be dedicated to Taranis. The night when the 'horns' are in the sky will be linked to the sky god. The spinner of the wheel of the sky.

3: the full moon will be dedicated to Rigantona.

As yet, Tigernonos doesn't really feature, I'm not too sure of His place within the scheme of things as I see it is unclear. I have inklings, ideas and thoughts but they need time.

The final matter I have in mind, but again I don't know HOW to implement, isthe rising of Orion with Mokkonos.

In terms of liturgy and practice I will leave that for now I think, I will call it an incentive to post again soon and not leave such a long gap.

An Unconformity

2009-12-04T14:14:00.004Z

I have been particularly quiet of late.

Busy in work, occupied outside of work and a healthy dose of lethargy are to blame. I shall be back with something reasonably soon.

Some late night rambling

2009-11-09T12:43:00.000Z

Last night - Sunday – I went out into the garden at my mother's house. It was about 9pm, there was a little light from the street lamps but as she lives on the edge of town overlooking the harbour and open Irish Sea it was pretty dark. The sky was filled with stars; the plough, the north star, cassiopea and the pleiadies all stood out among the millions of pin pricks of shining light. I stood there with a large rum and coke and made three toasts each followed by pouring a libation into the ground, nicely, it ran off and into a crack in the patio and soaked into the soil beneath.

Seeing the stars again like this after such a long time of virtually nothing in the night sky but the moon, the odd star and innumerable aeroplanes on their approach to Heathrow airport only reaffirms my thoughts of something missing as a result of living in London. It is another piece of the whole I feel I am not connecting with whilst living in the city.

I cant help but wonder what people living here a thousand or two thousand years ago thought when the looked up into the sky, what they saw the countless stars as as they watched over them and slowly paraded across the heavens. Were they kings or gods? ancestors or inanimate? It is impossible to know and can be nothing more than wild stabbing in the dark to guess.

Aside from the truth of them being mind bogglingly large balls of burning gas countless billions of miles away, what do they mean to me? What do I think and feel about them?

I have watched the progress of Orion across the winter sky; each night is circuit and that circuit shift as the weeks went by. As the earth spins and circles the sun, as the world blossoms, fruits and dies with the seasons so do the stars. Like some great cosmic mirror reflecting down onto us the happenings of the little blue planet as they appear to the infinite cosmos. Microcosm made macrocosm and reflected back on itself.

Its funny how there is the potential for so much microcosm and macrocosm interaction and reflection there is, like some great cosmic lensing system reflecting, mixing and superimposing. I see it in Wicca and I see it in my more personal work. I wonder what we would find if we looked into that point where all these microcosms and macrocosms intersected? Does God dwell in that place where the universe has folded itself over and in and out on itself so many times it becomes indistinguishable from itself?

All Hallows

2009-11-07T12:32:00.001Z

Winter's coming has been sharp and decisive; the lingering mildness of autumn and its flushes of warmth have been sent hurtling over the horizon by the teeth of winter which seems to have come in with a vengeance – a vengeance born on cold winds and freezing rain. Autumnal trees and their golden dressing have been ravaged lately and been left bare and black. This kind of sharp change is welcome, the clarity of transition has been a welcome change from the strange smear that has occurred in the past.

I had plans to do something at Nos Calan Gaeaf at a similar time with other members of Brython, as it happened I had some problems which scuppered that plan and has thrown a minor spanner in the works and has really left me thinking. Part of the process was 'toasting' the local ancestors and spirits – the thing is, I am struggling to get anything in this area. I live in London; about 300 miles from any kind of ancestral connections. So to make a connection in London with 'ancestors' is a bit like grabbing a floating beach ball at arms length. That said I am back in Wales now and that feeling is there; having spent time with family, shared in bad news and hysterical laughing with them I 'feel' that ancestral connection as part of the place I am in. So, I will be doing my 'Halloween thing' over the time I am here.

The littlest things reaffirm everything I have been writing – I have put this blogasm together over a couple of days – such as driving don the unlit country roads and realising it has been such a long time since I have seen what the world looks like in headlights. I am reliving perspectives I have known before and it is all coming flooding back in a wave of familiarity and connection. This just isnt something I get in London, certainly not to the same extent. Perhaps I get something like this when near the Thames – it is probably one of the only parts of London I 'get something' off of. Anyway, this just reaffirms I need to work on plenty when I get back to London and the Thames is the ideal place to begin. Perhaps also I will go back to that little church – St Brides - I visited last Imbolc.

Witchcraft and spellcraft. Two words that conjure very mixed thoughts and feelings in me at the best of times, but something I slip back into with an ease which has surprised me this week. I found out when I got back that my cousin has stomach cancer. The thing is to say 'my cousin' doesnt begin to get close to the kind of relationship that part of my father's family has with each other. They are like brothers and sisters rather than cousins, all due to the situations surrounding my Nana and her husband back when my dad was a baby ( I think this is something I will come back to soon as it concerns issues such as ancestors and their acknowledgement or non-acknowledgement even). Anyhow, the thing is, he cant die. It just isnt an option, I wont let that happen to my father and my sick cousins wife (who I am very find of). So on hearing he is ill within seconds I had already in my head a form of witchcraft with which to set at this tumour. Suffice to say it involves a lemon and some big wicked thorns – maybe nails is thorns aren't too easy come to get hold of this wet weekend. It was the way I slipped into this mode and had things worked out in my head before I knew I had done it which has got me thinking, it has become almost instinctive and only it seems when it needs to be. Nice.

I have had one of my hiatuses again it seems – sounds almost medical really – so it is time to settle down for a winter of cold and wind and woolly jumpers, a chance to do some reflecting, thinking and planning and of course I should set it all down in little ones and zeros and slap it up on the net.

It's funny how it happens, but..

2009-10-14T16:51:00.004+01:00

.. I am finding that the creation myth I invented with some inspriation and assistance from others is weedling it's way into my way of doing things.

I find myself wanting to get hold of a pair of antlers and use them to build some sort of altar representative of the cosmology hinted at in the invented myth. Some inspriation from Traditional Witchraft got me thinking of an outdoors altar with antlers on a stang with a cauldron at the base; the three realms in microcosm. In terms of a personal altar I was thinking the two antlers side by side pointing upwards like two supports, a nice broad wooden bowl for 'stuff' and them various amulets, symbols etc hung from the antlers like stars set in place for/by the gods.

I am tempted to think that on a personal level this myth of pure invention is taking on a life of it's own.

Funny that.

Camulaunos pt.3

2009-10-02T18:34:00.001+01:00

Camulaunos fled for his life, his very being and the lives of his family-tribe. With the white sow trailing him he fled across the plains of the land of the gods and began his descent down the mountain upon which the plains rested. All the while he could hear the rolling of thunder behind him, the clatter of wheels upon rocks and the rumble of huge hooves racing to catch him. Angry voices filled with rage and fire carried on the wind to him, threats unspeakable assaulted his mind and fear gripped his body.

Onwards he went, through the lands of the north, through valleys and woodlands – all the while the rage of the gods pursued him.

Soon, in the distance, the settlement of his family-tribe appeared. At the sight of this strange and unknown place Senua Vinda took fright and in her panic gave birth to three bees. These first of bees in the lands of men made their hives and were fruitful in their offspring; their honey was sweet and golden.

Onwards they went until the burning of wood smoke from the settlement could be scented on the air, the sound of activity carried to them. Once more Senua Vinda took fright and this time gave birth to three ears of grain; one each of rye, wheat and barley. These first of grains took root and produced fine stands of grain, each with fat ears that would hang heavily in the late summer sunshine.

Still onwards fled Camulaunos and with him Senua Vinda until they reached the threshold of the settlement where the family-tribe of Camulaunos saw him bearing this shining white sow. Behind them the sky had darkened and the clouds rolled over the chilled landscape like floodwaters across a field. Thunder and lightning assaulted the sky and the cries of the gods shook the very ground. At the sight of these unfamiliar things Senua Vinda gave birth a final time and this time it was of nine piglets.

The settlement shook and the winds howled, the ground shook as the host of gods encircled the settlement and made of cries of destruction to Camulaunos and his people.

The God Ambactonos descended on the settlement; aboard in a cart pulled by two huge horned cattle. A mighty, swarthy man of huge stature he was. He seized up the white sow from Camulaunos hold and she was swept away by him. Voices from around that place, unseen voices, made calls for the death of these people, punishment for their deeds; for stealing from the very gods and trespassing on their lands. Though not all of the voices called for such things; some called for mercy for Camulaunos’ people.

A shining shaft of light pierced the clouds, a golden ray that burned the eyes of those who tried to look at its source. It transfixed Camulaunos in that place. And so it was that in that blindingly bright golden shaft, nobody saw a brighter shaft transfix Camulaunos, nobody saw the spear of Lugus pierce his heart and steal his life away.

Camulaunos fell to the ground, his life ebbing and his soul departing. He did not despair, he was not afraid; he had won the sow of the gods and his people would no longer fear the pains of hunger in the coldest of winters. His warriors would be strong and his children would grow tall and lean. His people would live and they would thrive and they would have full belies for a thousand generations.

Before his last breath left his body, before the last of his blood drained into the soil of his ancestors, a man walked up to that settlement; an old man, bent over with age and leaning heavily on a tall oak staff. He was not of Camulaunos’ blood and not of this land. He knelt slowly beside Camulaunos and from the folds in the greying skins he wore about him he pulled out a shining bronze knife.

‘Camulaunos, you have greatly angered some of the gods. You have taken form them the seeds of a new life. You have made a cart for your people and you have begun to lead them on to a new life. For this they killed you. For all you have given your people and their children, there is one more thing you will do for them’

And with this he set about cutting Camulaunos into pieces; he separated his arms and legs, pulled out each of his bones and both of his eyes. The old man from the skies then cast each piece up and hung them from the tines of the tines of the heavens. As he did so he told Camulaunos it was now his destiny to watch over his people and to warn them of the coming of winter. For he had not yet told them of his bargain with Mokkonos; that with the coming of winter the great black boar would come to these lands and feed on all there was in the fields, crush all that lived and leave the land churned and frozen.

And so this is how it was; how a man won grain and honey and swine from the gods.

New Blog

2009-10-01T12:43:00.001+01:00

I realise that posting vast tracts of invented myths will make this blog a little unwieldy and cumbersome... so have set up a new blog to house them all in!

Camulaunos pt. 2

2009-09-30T16:05:00.005+01:00

Clearly I am having an unproductive day at work so have been completeing this myth. Opulent descriptiveness is the hardest part of this. I have in mind a couple of other iddeas for myths, one being a creation. With that in mind I have changed the 'creator' names slightly.

***

And so Camulaunos set off to the lands north of the Valley of Thorns and spent many days crossing wild lands of forest and heath. The path became rocky as the mountains of the world rose up from their roots place in the Land Behind the Land and reached for the skies where the Thunderer roamed. The snow lay thick on the cold, hard vegetation and little lived in that place. Camulaunos walked onwards and upwards till he came to the river that flowed like blood, its thick, dark waters swirled around black rocks that rose from its depths. Strange shapes swirled in its surface and something moved in its depths.

Using the black stones as footing he crossed that river and did not look down nor backwards, for he feared what he might see its depths. The land rose up further and the skies darkened. The air thinned and the biting winds knawed down to the bone, but onwards went Camulaunos clutching the three bristles of Mokkonos in his hand.

He reached the top of the mountain and instead of a high and windblown peak he saw a golden and sun drenched plain before him; golden sunlight pierced the whitest of clouds, silver light danced off the lushest of green grasses and trees smothered with fruit swayed gently in the breeze that caressed this place of the gods. He felt the cold and pain leave his body and was filled with warmth and comfort like he had never known before, not even of the warmest of late autumn evenings, not in the finest of cured hides nor in the arms of the loveliest of women.

Black ravens like the depths of night but with amber eyes wheeled overhead clucking and crocking at his movement. Deer of a kind Camulaunos has only ever dreamed of strode gracefully over the landscape, unafraid of his approach. The streams he stepped over writhed with the fattest of eels and the sparkle of salmon as big a child.

This was the land of the gods, a blessed place of the finest of things – and Camulaunos knew he was an intruder. He made his way across this wondrous place and dreamt of bringing his own family-tribe here to live like gods in peace, happiness and health. He dreamed of how grand they would be as they lived with the gods themselves and how they would shape their own destiny. All of this he dreamt and much more as he walked onwards so that he never did see the hall he approached until it was no more than a spears throw away.

Such a place had never before been seen by mortal eyes and such a place has not been seen since;

It had high circular walls four spear lengths high made of a pale dressed stone, upon that sat a tall roof made of the finest straw that shone like gold. Before him lay the doors; they reached to the eaves of the roof, a fine pair of them made from two planks of oak wood, a tree of such a size Camulaunos thought it must have been the first seed planted by Rigantona at the making of the world. Its edges were trimmed with bronze, each bolt in it made of iron and capped with bronze, two huge rings of bronze served as handles; each half a spear length across and decorated with inland patterns of swirling monsters and beasts chased by the gods themselves. Each figure picked out in gold and each eye picked out in amber. The frame and lintel surrounding the doors were each made of a single oak beam and each was intricately carved with the exploits of the gods; the Making of the World, the War of the Gods, Lugus and the Hawk, the Cursing of the Swallow and a great many things of which Camulaunos had never heard told by the fire.

Camulaunos moved towards the doors and slipped between them and into the Hall of the Gods.

He stood alone in that place, and was struck still by it. It was a huge circular room as big as the biggest settlement of Camulaunos’ people. Arranged around it were dozens of high thrones; each a great slab of black slate and each throne growing from the slab as if some strange cursed tree. Each seat high a high back and richly curving sides of which to recline. They were all swathed in fine furs and leathers, some from beasts Camulaunos himself had hunted others from things he couldn’t even begin to imagine. Each had soft pillows of pale furs on it, and some laying upon the rock beneath them. Furs and skins lay around each throne to be used when desired. Some it appeared were used as a place to lie by mighty animals at the feet of the gods. Camulaunos suspected these must have been the hunting hounds of the gods but feared all manner of unknown creatures reclined in this place too.

The centre of the room was dominated by a mighty tree that grew out from the ground and rose high to the roof and Camulaunos fancied it grew onwards still and into the sky. Its branches swept low into that hall and formed a canopy of shimmering green leaves above the heads of those who stood in that place. At it roots rested a cauldron, its surface bubbling over with crystal clear water that looked like the clearest of mountain streams, it flowed over the rim of the grand bronze cauldron and soaked into the roots of the great tree. A bronze and gold chain encircled the base of the tree and linked the pot and that tree together. Besides the tree was a long and broad table and upon it plates and bowls of meat and fruits, bottles of wines and beers, eating things of bronze and gold and a variety of platters and drinking vessels: horns, bronze goblets and the skull of some giant man-creature trimmed with gold.

Camulaunos was struck with awe and fear at that place and left it as it was, he moved off into the eastern part of the great golden plain, through filed of wheat and rye and barley, crops the like of which he had never seen and each rose up to his waist. The fat ears of golden grain knocked against him as the wind ran through them. On he went through herds of great cattle and fat strong swine. Onwards until he reached the stream Mokkonos had told him of. It looked no more than a spears length in breadth but taking the warning of the Boar in the Thorns he plucked a stone from the bank of that stream and threw it with all his strength across the narrow brook. The stone flew high into the air and landed in the middle of the stream. Hardly believing his eyes of the strength of his arm, he tried again only to see the pebble fall into the water and disappear from view in water that seemed no more than knee deep.

He took one of the bristle he carried with him and dipped it into the water, he then set it into the stream bank before his heart could beat three times that bristle had grown into a sweeping alder tree; its roots dug deep into the soil and the tips of its dropping branches brushed the grasses on the other side of the stream. He climbed up into its branches and across the sturdier of limbs to jump down onto the plain on the other side of the stream.

A short walk across the plain he came to the smaller hall of dressed limestone and golden straw that he now knew belonged to Ambactonos. Beside it he saw the oak pen and inside it he saw the well sized and fine looking sow Senua Vinda. He walked up to the pen and remembering the words of Mokkonos took a stone from the floor and made to throw it over the top of the pen, no mater how hard he threw that stone and no matter how high he tossed it, it would always fall and clatter against the side of the pen no more than half way up its side.

Again he took one of those bristles and this time wedged it into a crack on one of those poles. Within the space of three heartbeats it had grown into a fine and thick vine reaching up and over the top of the pen. Camulaunos took to its stem and climbed the oak pen. Once inside he took the last of the bristles and made to warp it around the neck of that swine to form a lead, as he did it grew in length and turned into a fine thing of leather and bronze; a soft and lengthy strap with which to lead the shining sow back to his people. Before him he found a small gate that opened with ease and so stepped back out onto the golden plains of Ambactonos with the sow at his side.

The moment she stepped out of that pen and onto the plains there was an almighty cracking sound as if the gods had seen to unmake the world and had begun tearing it to pieces; a hot wind blew through his flesh and the skies darkened over. The birds stopped their singing and it seemed as if the shine had fled from each thing in that place.

With this, Camulaunos fled.

Camulaunos pt. 1

2009-09-29T11:18:00.011+01:00

I have been thinking about and blogasming about the idea of a new Promethean myth for the Brythonic tradition. So, inspired by some of the Joseph Cambell and Megli I have been reading I took some time to sit and write something. I am not a natural story writer - speaker, yes - so this might look and read a little clumsy.

Anyway, here is part 1:

Some time after the making of the world by the Great Father Tigernonos, the Great Mother Rigantona and their Bull-hoofed brother Taranis, the many gods of the land and the sky and the sea were born.

And so it was that after a time men came to live on the land that had been born from the sea and those men lived in the forest and on the plains. They hunted game amongst the trees and they fished great salmon from the rivers. In time they flourished and their numbers grew with each summer and waned with each winter as the cold took away the spirits of the weak and the old to the place under the land where the roots of the mountains are washed over by the birth of all rivers and streams.

Amongst these people was a family-tribe and their chief was a man named Camulaunos. He was the most favoured by the gods; he had thick dark hair the colour of an aurochs back, golden eyes like the swiftest of foxes and pale skin like the breast of the she-swallow. He was the strongest, the fastest and wisest of all the men of the tribe. Each of his hands could hold two spears, with each arm could throw three spears and he was able to wrestle down the biggest of game with ease. Not only this, but he knew every place where game went, every place where the purest of streams bubbled from the Land behind the Land and every bush that brought forth the sweetest fruits. For all the blessings the gods had seen to bestow upon Wetionos, his heart grew heavy with the passing of the seasons as he saw the people of his family-tribe grow weak and pass into the Land behind the Land when winter took hold. Some sickened and faded away, others starved and some still were taken by the wild things that lived in the forest beyond the Black Trees.

It happened that one winter when the snow was deep on the ground and the ice hung from the bones of every man, woman and child that Camulaunos made out into the forest to find game to feed his people. He strode onwards and northwards to the places his people never went to, in order to find some game that had not already been hunted or killed by the cold.

He espied in the undergrowth a boar with shining white bristles; as big as any he had ever seen and with a skin like a frost covered meadow. Its eyes burned fierce red and its tusks glinted with rime.

Camulaunos took up his greatest bronze spear and held it aloft, at this the boar saw his intentions and made to run away deeper into the forest. It plunged onwards deeper and deeper into the places where men never set foot; into those places given over to the wild things and those creatures the gods themselves have turned their gaze from. Onwards they ran; hunter and hunted until Camulaunos threw his mighty spear and pierced the flank of the shining boar. At this the boar cried out;

'Hold your blade and spare my life, and in return I will grant what you need'

‘In taking your life will gain what I seek most' replied Camulaunos

'Hold your blade and spare my life' bellowed the boar 'and I will give you the sweetest meat for roasting, the flesh that will never blacken and will satisfy all who taste it'

'Your own flesh will be the sweetest, and your own flanks will feed my family' said Camulaunos as he drew out his knife ready to slit the throat of the boar before him.

'Hold your blade and spare my life and I shall take you to Mokkonos himself'

And with this Camulaunos placed his knife back in his belt and pulled his spear from the flank of the boar. He was lead into deep valleys and across desolate hillsides for days on end by the bright boar with the bloodied flank, until they reached a wooded valley of blackthorn. From here Camulaunos pushed through the thorny growth deeper into the valley, the frosty barbs pierced his skin and tore at his clothes whilst the icy mud soaked his feet and pulled on his boots. As the braches got to their densest and the blood flowed freely from a many wounds on his skin, he emerged into a clearing. Standing in the middle of the clearing was Mokkonos.

He was twice as tall as a man and the breadth of his shoulders greater than that of any beast Camulaunos has ever seen. His legs like tree trunks dug at the heavy soil beneath his razor sharp and wickedly black hooves. Frost clung to his thick shaggy legs and sweat ran down his huge haunches, the mist from his great mouth swirled around tusks like scythes; each as thick as a man’s arm and both yellowed with great age. His eyes burned like the coals from the deepest part of the forge, his red lips dripped saliva and his tongue hung out as red as fresh blood. His entire body was swathed in thick black fur and it bristled with dozens of broken spearheads and shaft from a thousand failed hunts. Camulaunos knew that the bearers of those spears had not lived to tell the story of the monstrous boar they had seen and failed to kill, he knew that the bones that littered the muddy ground before him, and that were ground into splinters, had been those men.

Camulaunos drew himself to his full height and held his spear by his side, he addressed the monstrous beast before him’

‘Your kin promised me a great feast of boar flesh, if I were to spare his life’

The Black Boar of the Thorns pawed at the ground and spoke to the small man before him;

‘If such a deal is made then it must be honoured Camulaunos, and you of all men who live in the lands to the south of here will be the one to take such a flesh’

‘Take our your blade and cut all you can carry from my flank’

And so Camulaunos took out his bronze bladed knife and went over to Mokkonos and cut from his thick black flank a chunk of his flesh nearly too big to be carried. With this he made his way back through the thorns to his family-tribe’s settlement.

Two days passed and Camulaunos’ people were hungry again, so he went back to the valley with the thorns and the monstrous Mokkonos and took all he could carry, and Mokkonos did not appear any the slighter for it. A third time did he go back to that place and retrieve his people’s fill of boar meat and a third time did they say they were hungry soon after.

So Camulaunos went back to Mokkonos a fourth time. And this time Mokkonos refused him.

‘I spared the life of your kin and a bargain was made, Boar of the Thorns’ Camulaunos said.

‘My part of this bargain I fulfilled, your people were fed and they were no longer hungry’

‘They are hungry again and will always be hungry with each coming winter. For every winter the game leaves the land, the fish leave the rivers and the trees and bushes retreat to the Land Behind the Land to hide from the frosts that you bring’ Camulaunos told him ‘and every winter my people sicken and die and our greatest warriors thin and grow weak’

Mokkonos looked down on him with burning eyes and breathed out a great swirl of frozen mists. The icicles that hung from his shaggy black hide cracked and shattered as he shook himself down.

‘I have lived in this valley for longer than any other beast that lives on the land, I have been pursued by the greatest hunters of every people and made each of them the hunted. I have seen countless Suns born loft in the Chariot of the Thunderer and seen them sink and fade out. I have watched as the sons of Neptonos have raced up the
rivers of the world to chase the women who hide in the springs, and seen them return to the watery depths empty handed. I watched as the Great hawk flew aloft and was brought down by the spear of Lugus. I have seen all of this and many more things in my time in this valley, and there is one thing I have seen that you will desire’

'far to the north of here is a river, a wide and fast flowing thing the colour of blood. Beyond that river is a plain of golden grasses and shining flowers like no man has ever seen. Upon that golden plain is a great hall bigger and finer than any hall made by the hands of a man. Within that hall live many of the gods.

‘To the east of that hall is another river, a stream that appears to be no more than the span of a single stride, but there is no man who can step over it, even with a hundred great strides. You must cross that stream and there you will find the small stone hall and well tilled land of Ambaxtonos. Around it are fields of grain like no man has ever seen; golden stems with fat shining heads of grain of every type and form, plains filled with the finest shining swine; broad and well formed flanks and strong and muscled heads pursued by throngs of perfect young, cattle so monstrous and grand as to strike fear into a man’s heart; they produce the finest of milks with which to make the sweest of drinks, or the softest and most nourishing of cheeses. These are the lands which Ambaxtonos tends and the produce of them is what feeds the gods at their nightly feasts.’

‘Beside the stone hall of Ambaxtonos is a pen of oaks posts, each seemingly no taller than a youth, yet there is no man alive who could climb over them even if given a hundred years in which to do so. You Camulaunos must climb over them.’

‘Inside that pen is the sow Senua Vinda, and it her who you seek Camulaunos, it is the farrow of that sow which will feed you and your people for evermore. Your lives and your hunters will no longer be subject to the whims of the gods, no longer will your warriors thin and weaken, and no longer will your children turn to bones before you.
If you want to give this to your people Camulaunos, then you must bring Senua Vinda back to your family-tribe and they must care for her offspring.’

‘This much I will give you freely Camulaunos, the rest will be costly; draw three bristles from my back and take them with you. They will aid you in getting to the stall of Senua Vinda. They will aid you in getting into that oaken-posted pen and they will aid you in getting back to your home from the land behind the land. For this much the sons of the gods will turn their spears on me and it will be Lugus who hunts me in the depths of winter and not your men, and it is for this which I will enact a price of you and your children;

‘No longer will I reside in this thorn-brush but will be abroad with the darkening of the skies as the Sun cools at winter. I will be at your fields Camulaunos; I will feed at your crops as and tear at your livestock. I will grind the ground beneath my hooves and freeze the very soil you wish to plough. This will be my price Camulaunos, for making myself unwelcome in the halls of the gods I will now seek sustenance from your halls instead.’

Genivs Loci Civitatis

2009-09-23T08:58:00.002+01:00

A discussion has been going on on Caer Feddwyd about the nature of magic (spell-craft, that kind of thing) and a point that has been raised is that the spirits of place that can be found in a town or a city are qualitatively different though not without their own potential, and perhaps not as conducive to the practice of magic. Before I moved to London and about six or more years ago I recall having a discussion with someone on the BBC pagan message boards about this and arguing, from my point of view, that spirits were scarce in cities due to their large scale separation from the 'natural world'.

I don't hold with this opinion any longer.

There are certainly genius loci in cities, though of a wholly different quality than open countryside. There are many places in central London which are positively buzzing with the accumulated echoes of history and human endeavour – small alleyways running off between tall buildings on Fleet Street, small overgrown parks within posh housing squares or the mighty Thames itself.

I wonder if the mechanism which is behind the accumulation of, and eventual 'creation' of a genius loci operates equally wherever you are but the net result is entirely different? Out in the wilds of north Wales you will get wild and free genius with no loyalty to humans and sometimes an air of mistrust or trepidation when humans interact and yet in a city where humans dominate you find genius which are far more 'human friendly' in nature? Very much a case of town mouse and country mouse.

p.s and thanks to Bo for latin lessons

Personal Pantheon

2009-09-07T15:17:00.008+01:00

I have an inordinate fondness for organising things; knowing where things are, what they are, how they relate to one another and then for recording this information mentally and physically for future use and reference. This innate anal retentiveness and obsessive compulsion is very useful in my work seeing as it effectively constitutes what I get paid to do with fossil collections.

In some ways it is a hindrance and in others a blessing when it comes to matters of religion and spirituality. It means it can often be a problem in that I obsess over things and how they relate to one another but I other ways it means I often stop and take stock of where I am at.

It has been a while since I have done this – in some respects I think regular blogasms have replaced this urge/need – so I think it is time to begin doing so again, what with the autumn gallavanting upon us and winter not too far ahead. I have been waffling on a bit on here about things quite abstract I guess so maybe it is time to collate some thoughts and set them straight.

I shall begin with my personal pantheon; the gods with whom I have a two-way relationship and those gods who kind of drift in and out of the picture and in which sense the relationship is one way; me taking an interest and a general desire to know more about them without anything further. This will be a bit of a mix of historical factoids and personal myth and experience. As I am writing these I can feel an almost modern Wicca derived mythos slipping in no matter how hard I try to not let it, but I think it should be there. I am Wiccan and it flavours my interaction with the gods to some extent.

Rigatona
To me she embodies the landscape itself; the rolling streams, the hills, the mountains, the woodland and the heath. All the gods of those places dwell within her and we do too. She is the Grey Mare, the horse that embodies the spirit of the land and our place within it. She is sovereignty and the one who grants it; not only in the older sense of being a rightful ruler but also in a personal sense of ‘belonging’ and the proper interaction of a person with the landscape. If such a title were needed she would be the Great Mother Goddess of the British Isles.

Lugus-Belenus
My relationship with Lugus-Belenus is still rather ‘young’. Ideas of being the Sky Father figure, the one who is skilled in every craft and as such is a teacher and guide. Yet who has a mighty spear and delights in bloodletting. The Sun, the corn as it ripens, the one who spills his own blood to achieve this.

Mokkonos
A bit of a newish one; the swine god. The black boar of winter who churns the land under his hooves, whose chilling sweat is the dawn frost and whose hot breath is the winter mists. The god who is hunted and whose flesh is eaten to sustain. The one who sees us through the cold months, even as he grinds the life out of the weak and the sick.

Taranis
The sky thunderer. I saw an arrow of geese honking across the London sky this morning and it reminded me that he should be included.

Nodens
The Lord of the Waters. The spirit of the great rivers; the Severn and the Thames. A healer. There is something about him that makes me want to equate him with Teyrnon/Tigernonos of the roaring wave; the Severn and the Severn Bore. The wife of the Grey Mare; the lady of the land and the god of the water as husband and wife or merely as lovers.

Some More Dirty Words

2009-09-06T16:15:00.003+01:00

A while ago now I had a little moan about the current dirty words in paganism, one of which was 'dogma' and the other 'worship'. There is currently a little uproar going on at – brace yourself, those of a nervous disposition might not want to click on this link and I apologise for any ill feelings that come upon you whilst there - OBOD (I say uproar, but in fact I don't think I have ever seen one there, much mutual masturbation of egos and 'personal truth/awen/inspiration/bollocks' but that is about it. It is a wonderful example of how people in groups can react so badly to something they perceive as threatening that they eventually get to the point where they have become that very same thing without realising it. In this case the need to keep away from dogma itself has become a dogma for them. Some of the people on that discussion have some good insights but unfortunately the old hands of the boards have squashed it with a lack of understanding of what is being said. Good on them!

As someone I hold in high regard once said; “dogma should be the foundation we build on, not the roof over our heads”. And he is right, dogma should be the things commonalities that bind us together not the chains that hold us captive.

There is another dirty word in paganism these days; label. Modern pagans don't like to be questioned about the labels they take for themselves or other apply to them. “I am a druid goddamitt and you cant tell me otherwise, even if I do have an athame, pentacle and use the Witches Bible”. You know the kind of thing. People will always harp on about how labels are damaging, limiting and something they really don't like. Here is something for all those people, try this word out' noun. That's it, noun. One of the essential components of almost any language you care to think or. Noun; the word that describes something so that it can be talked about and be understood. Language works because we all understand it, to go screwing about with it causes problems, exactly the kind of problems when people gather together to talk paganism. There you will find nouns turned inside out, twisted beyond recognition and used in whole new and inventive ways.

A Big Question

2009-09-06T11:55:00.001+01:00

I find myself in familiar territory again recently, partly in writing this as it is a blogasm I have planned on and off for over a year. The reason it hasn't materialised is due to the nature of the issue itself.

I semi-regularly find myself asking “why do I do all of this ?”, “why bother?”, “what is the point?".

On each of these occasions I find myself finding some sort of suitable answer and then continue, such has been the case for years. Now I think it is time to actually take time to stop and REALLY examine my reasons and motivation and do so in a way which not only answers these questions but is something I really and truly do actually think/believe. If this post makes it into a real on-line blogasm then that will be a small miracle.

Perhaps the easiest answer for me to make is that I feel a genuine, gut urge to 'know' about these gods. There is an innate pull towards finding out about them on one level – possibly the scientist bit of me needing to know and understand – and on another for me to develop something of a relationship with some of them beyond a simple knowledge of them. This last bit can and does vary hence my relation with gods has waxed and waned in the past and I do at least think I have got something out of that experience.

That said, I think there is something stronger than that which compels me to want to get closer to the gods. I think perhaps on one level a relationship with them will act as a key to me finding my place and being content with that place in the wider scheme of things. I made mention of the idea of the 'Promethean fall' a while back and it has been a niggling little thing in the back of my mind since. I thin that at times it feels like there is a pane of glass between me/humans and the world, all of a sudden we find ourselves in the sweetshop of conciousness, self-awareness and abstract thought and realise that to step inside we had to leave something behind. That something was a place in the world we left behind; a world where we fit in, where we were a part of a huge web of interaction. I think perhaps that one of the reasons pagans today look to ancient cultures is that we somehow see that they at least were closer to this lost world of ours, they had a much closer relationship with the landscape and the gods and that since then we have continually marching onwards in our development as a species and in turn been marching away from the very thing many of us want to get back to in some way. I don't think this is necessarily a romantic view of wanting to live in huts and be farmers again but wanting to capture the relationship, the closeness and awareness that people had when they worked much closer with the land and the landscape, yet in a contemporary context. Escapism springs to mind and in some respect is appropriate, and I think that by and large, it isn't about filling a hole in our lives but us retaking our place in the hole in the landscape we left behind.

I think our drive to have a relationship with the gods is simply, initially at least, about wanting to be a part of the living landscape as a whole and develop a relationship with different aspects of it. The gods/spirits of that place are just one part of the whole.

So, could I achieve some of this without gods or spirits? I probably could. That said, I have a driving gut instinct which goads me on to have something with the gods. For now at least I will listen to what my instincts say.