The Druid's Garden

Spiritual Journeys in Tending the Land, Permaculture, Wildcrafting, and Regenerative Living

A Druid’s Guide to Connecting with Nature, Part V: Nature Reciprocity August 12, 2018

The principle of “seven generations” comes to us from the Iroquois nation, where is considered to be the “Great Law of the Iroquois.”  This principle said that each decision that was made needed to consider not just the immediate future but the 7th generation, those yet unborn. This principle has become closely tied with modern sustainability movements, where there is a growing understanding that for any society and ecosystem to endure, they must be treated in a way that nurtures and sustains, rather than pillages and depletes. This is a fairly radical idea to a Western culture, where concepts like manifest destiny and the relentless pursuit of growth that have driven westerners literally spent centuries pillaging the land, colonizing new places, driving out native peoples, stripping forests bare, and so forth. This idea of recirpocation is essentially foreign to most growing up in the shadows of that exploitative past.

 

Land and ocean worth protecting!

Land and ocean worth protecting!

Of course, those living nature-based spiritual paths, like druidry, are struggling with the dissonance between this cultural path and finding a new relationship with nature.  And so, going to connect with nature deeply, however, and we come from a cultural heritage where the kinds of behaviors I listed above are normalized, and where we benefit from them, whether or not we want to, then reciprocation becomes even more critical to understand and embrace.  In the last few weeks, we’ve been delving deeply in to the different ways that druids and other earth-honoring individuals can connect with nature. We’ve looked at nature wisdom, how to learn about nature in various ways and nature engagement, where we can learn to use nature to build value and connection. We’ve also considered nature reverence last week.  This week, we think about reciprocity, where we learn to give more than we take, and create a sustaining and regenerative relationship with the living earth.

 

Reciprocation

Inherent in the use of nature (which we discussed two weeks ago) and our dependency on nature is reciprocation. The term “sustainability” is the idea that what we take from the land still allows that land to be abundant and healthful, that the resources used will be able to replenish themselves in time (with or without human help). But, like many permaculture designers, I find that the term “sustainability” lacks the power of good and it doesn’t necessarily take the view that humans have taken too much.  Here in the USA; white settlers to this land found it full of incredible richness and abundance–all the while omitting the people and practices that made that abundance happen–these lands were carefully tended Native American tribes for millenia. In a few short centuries, the old forests are gone, the extraordinarily productive food forests are no more, and many species are dwindling.  It is for this reason that it isn’t enough to “sustain” what exists, but instead, give more than we take, help regenerate and heal, and do good on the land–all the work of reciprocation.  I believe that this kind of work helps us achieve long-term health and balance of the land while also attending to our own needs–and ultimately, our own survival.  This reciprocity has at least three areas.

The principle of reciprocity with nature:
Conserving life and natural spaces;
Regenerating and healing ;
Making offerings within and without

 

Conserving Nature

I honor the conservationists of the 19th and 20th century in the US as ancestors: each time I am able to visit wild lands, public lands, and national parks, I see the tireless work of their hands and hearts present in each stone placed upon the path, each tree that was protected and not felled, each natural wonder that is still present and public for me to witness. And so, one way to connect through nature and do the work of nature reciprocation is through conservation activities.

 

Butterfly and Bee Attractor Garden

Butterfly and Bee Attractor Garden

Multiple schools of thought exist within the larger conservation movement; the US National Park service offers these two different definitions: conservation focuses on protecting natural resources and regulate the sustainable use of nature; preservation focuses on protecting landscapes and protecting nature from any use and eliminate human impact entirely. As druids and nature-spirituality oriented people, part of our own ethic and interaction with nature must come to terms with these two perspectives, and perhaps, seek a third perspective that is more fitting with our own ethics and path. For me, neither of these perspectives deal with the inherent sacredness of nature or reciprocation, and so in the end, I find both to be lacking for various reasons. I don’t have a better word than “conserve” nature, and people know what I mean by that, so I’ll set this debate aside (but its good to realize that this debate exists when using the term!)

 

Conservation can take on many different forms from independent individual action to getting involved in groups to donating to causes.  Here are a few of my favorites:

  • Sanctuaries for Life. If you own land, you can work to create and maintain various sanctuaries.  Organizations like the World Wildlife Federation and Monarch Watch, as well as possibly your State Extension program (if you live in the US) offer tools and information to help you establish wildlife sanctuaries, butterfly habitats, and so forth.  I have found that doing this kind of work has several benefits: one, it is educational for you as you learn more about these practices; two, once you gain the signage, it is good information for neighbors and others who may be wondering why you are doing something obviously different with your land; three, it is excellent “awareness raising” for those same neighbors, who ask questions and want more information. Finally, it supports good organizations doing additional conservation work.
  • Join a local organization and participate. Nearly everywhere, local organizations are dedicated to helping conserve and preserve the natural ecosystem.  Where I live, there is a lot of work being done on rivers, and one of the organizations I frequently donate to and assist is an organization called the Evergreen Conservancy, who has funded several large projects to clean up acid mine drainage from local rivers (including one that I now enjoy kayaking on). I love the work this organization is doing, it is local to my county, and I can easily get to know folks and participate.  You can physically see the results in the clean flowing water.
  • Learn about a species or two and focus your energy. Another way of thinking about conservation is to focus in on a few species, or one species, and learn about how to protect that species. I’m really interested in some of the species that United Plant Savers works with, particularly, Appalachian herbs that are so quickly disappearing from the ecosystem like American Ginseng, Black Cohosh, Blue Cohosh, Trilium, and more and I’ve been focusing my energy on those herbs.
  • Attend Clean ups and other events: Often, communities, parks, and local organizations will arrange for various clean up activities–river cleanups, trail cleanups, tree plantings, removing invasive species, etc.  They often need a lot of volunteers, so this is another way to engage in conservation.

These activities are only some options–there are so many more out there! are about establishing and engaging in relationship; by working with healing any part of the land, you are working to reciprocate.

 

Regenerating and Healing Nature

The above conservation activities are based on existing ecosystems–protecting them, making sure they remain in good condition, offering care. But many of our landscapes are not pristine or in need of conservation–they are in need of regeneration and healing. And so, taking a more permaculture design perspective, we might think about reciprocation as land healing work–both physical healing as well as spiritual/energetic healing, as both are necessary. Usually, these places are right outside of our doors: the lawn, the little strip of abandoned land between the road and the back of your workplace, the recently logged forest behind your house.  I’ve spent a good deal of time on my blog detailing this practice already, so here are a few of my favorite

  • Making and Scattering Seed balls: Scattering seeds of rare species (such as those on the United Plant Savers’ list) using seed balls, or planting species out in places where they are needed. This work requires quite a bit of knowledge (as you want to make sure you are planting native plants, not spreading ones that may cause harm). As part of this, I have developed a “refugia” garden that are designed to produce seeds and cuttings that I can then propagate elsewhere.
  • Lawn Regeneration and Yardens: A second regeneration activity is working to create ecosystems in place of lawns.  Lawns are often places of consumption; they offer little to wildlife or insect life.  By converting some sections of lawns to various gardens (pollinator-friendly gardens, even with good eats) you can help develop more robust ecosystems for birds, wildlife and insects to thrive.  Here is an example of a larger site using permaculture principles (my former homestead in Michigan).
  • Carbon Sequestration: Home-scale and community-based carbon sequestration This is something that is only beginning to be talked about.  We already know that forests are one of the best carbon sinks–so planting trees and allowing trees to grow is one way to contribute. In Paradise Lot: Two Plant Geeks, 1/10th of an Acre, and the Making of an Edible Oasis in the City, Eric Toensmeier and Jonathan Bates describe their work with carbon sequestration – through composting initiatives and biochar, they calculated that in a few years, they had sunk about 400 lbs of carbon into their soil.  Increasing soil fertility often increases the carbon in soil.
  • Composting:  A lot of active healing of the land focuses not only on planting things but on keeping the land we have healthy. Landfills are a serious problem, both in terms of land space and land use, but also in terms of what goes into them.  By starting a composting pile or joining a composting initiative, you can divert some of your food waste and turn it into productive soil–that can then be used to convert lawns to gardens, grow tomatoes, and more!
  • Larger Initiatives that regenerate and heal: There are a lot of larger initiatives that are worth considering–many of these would fall under “regenerative activities”.  One that I’ve been interested in lately is stormwater runoff.  Stormwater is a huge problem for most of the temperate places in the world that have roofs, parking lots, roads, etc.  Most communities, counties, or states have laws that govern how stormwater must be handled before it goes into rivers and streams–but many of these laws are not upheld. By working in groups and as communities, we can install rain gardens, more friendly surfaces, living roofs, and other ways of protecting and keeping waterways clean from further damage.

 

Using permaculture principles and practices, and using sound judgement, we can land to help heal damaged ecosystems and bring ecosystems back into health.  I have primarily focused on the things you can do in the mundane/outer world in terms of healing and regeneration; next week, we’ll talk more about inner things you can do that also focus on reciprocation and blessing. I also want to note that if the above kinds of things appeal to you, consider studying permaculture design further–I found this to be one of the most empowering things I’ve ever done, and it really helped me shift my own mindset and know that I could be a force of good and make a difference in terms of healing the land. There are permaculture design certificate courses that you can take all over the world, including some totally free ones that can be done virtually.

 

Offerings to Nature

Throughout time, humans have recognized that rituals and ceremonies designed to offer something back, physically or metaphysically, was also part of reciprocity.  Offerings in this case are symbolic representations of our understanding of the give and take relationship we have with the earth that provides abundance. In some cultures, failure to make such offerings had dire consequences for those who depended on nature for survival–famine, pestilence, and so on might occur.  For other cultures, offerings were more symbolic in order to help facilitate a good harvest. And so, while first two areas with regards to nature reciprocation are things you can physically do, the final area is much more energetic and magical in nature–it is primarily a gesture of goodwill and honoring nature.

 

There are lots of ways that we can build offerings into our practice as druids and nature-centered spiritual practitioners.  Since the tradition doesn’t have a specific way of making an offering (as other traditions may), the choice of offering is very much up to you.  I wrote more specifically about sustainable and meaningful offerings here, so I’ll only briefly summarize in this section and offer some suggestions.

  • Offerings of physical things: The general principle here that I like to follow is this: my offering should be an offering of something that I value and that is important to me, not simply an empty gesture of something that I purchased.  Many things that can be purchased are problematic because they put additional strain on the land (the resources that produced it, the shipping and fossil fuels, the packaging, etc).  I believe it is better to either gather your offerings, make them, or grow them.  They could be as simple as acorn caps that you have gathered in the fall and painted a symbol on (I used something like this for many years).  I currently use a sacred offering blend that I grow myself; I posted a recipe on my blog for my sacred herbal offering blend this not too long ago.
  • Offerings as Rituals: Offerings don’t just have to be physical things. Many offerings can also be ceremonial in nature; like a land blessing or healing ceremony.  A wassail ceremony, for example, is an excellent example of a ceremony that enacts the principle of reciprocation, as are simple blessings and offerings of food, drink, etc.
  • Offerings as Time/Life Energy: The above areas (conservation and regeneration) are also offerings–they are offerings of your time and life energy.  If done with sacred intent and intentionality, I believe these are some of the best offerings you can make to the land and her spirits.
  • Offerings of Creative Gifts: You can make an offering by playing music (which plants respond to), drumming, or dancing as well.  These can be gifts offered to the land itself, or gifts shown to humans in honor of and inspired by nature.

When it comes to offerings, I think that your intentions are what matters most–that you are genuine, that you have given the offering considerable thought, and that you offer something that is meaningful.

 

Conclusion

As the Great Law of the Iroquois, the law of seven generations, suggests, reciprocation can be not only an activity for individuals, but also a cultural value, something that a group of people accept to be right and true.  If the earth is sacred, we can treat her in a sacred manner that does not deplete her, and practice reciprocation in our interactions with her. To me, reciprocation is at the core of what nature spirituality can offer, what it can aspire to be, and what its potential is–creating life-sustaining and life-affirming values, people who live those values, and someday, perhaps, life-affirming and nurturing societies.

 

A Druid’s Guide to Connecting With Nature, Part IV: Nature Reverence August 5, 2018

Respect.  Honor.  Reverence.  Admiration–these words are often used to describe people, in our lives, afar, or in history that we hold in high regard.  But these same words can also be used to describe many druids’ feelings towards the living earth–plants, animals, oceans, rivers, forests, trees, natural wonders, insects, mycelium–the soil web of all life.  The world is a wonderous, incredible place, and those of us who follow a path of nature-based and nature-rooted spirituality recognize this. Reverence is having deep resepect for something, treating it with value and worth. Those of us who are drawn to druidry and nature-based spirituality inherently have reverence to the living earth–it is part of what sets us on this path and encourages us in this direction. But as we deepen our spiritual connection with nature, I believe that our reverence also deepens over time.

 

A beaver dam in the early fall at Parker Dam State Park, Pennsylvania

A beaver dam in the early fall at Parker Dam State Park, Pennsylvania

In the last month, we’ve explored different ways you can deeply connect with nature–beginning with the overall framework, discussing nature wisdom, nature enagement, and nature reciprocity–we wrap up this series this week by considering the final piece of the framework: nature reverence.    Nature reverence is certainly one of the underlying values that people who practice this path share–and a value that is shared more broadly with those engaged in other kinds of nature-oriented practice.  This could include anything from herbalism, permaculture, organic farming, wilderness enthusiasts, backpackers, wild food foragers, bushcraft specialists, hikers, etc.

 

In many ways, everything that I’ve been writing about in this series is a form of honoring nature. When you develop nature wisdom and learn more about your own connection to the living earth, you honor nature. When you learn how nature can offer you so much–and what you can offer in return–you are honoring nature. When you are healing or conserving the land or making offerings, again, you are honoring nature. Today, we’ll explore several additional ways to enage in nature reverence:

Reverence of the natural world can happen through:
Respecting the sanctity of life and the living earth;
Honoring nature through ritual and intentional action;
Communing with the living earth.

Respecting Nature

If there is one thing that is true of the history of Western Civilization, it has been the disregard through which it has shown just about everything: peoples, cultures, and the living earth. It is this disregard and the cultural values of profit and progress that have led to such disregard for the earth and her diverse peoples. Another problematic western cultural value is individualism–in westernized society, particularly in American society, we are primed to think of ourselves first, and ourselves as individuals with autnomy, disconnected from a larger system.  Geert Hosfede demonstrated this through his “cultural values” where he explored the different ways that cultural values impacted organizations, particularly those doing business internationally.  This individualism manifests as a kind of socialization that encourages us to think of ourselves first: what can I do that best benefits me?

 

Any kind of connection to nature is rooted, first and foremost, in respect.  Without respect, we cannot have reverence. I believe that part of nature respect is working to re-socialize ourselves and re-orient ourselves to also ask the basic question, “what can I do that best benefits nature/the land?” as a primary category in our minds as opposed to “what benefts me?”  I believe that shifting the mind and heart can shift action in the world; and so, if we can bring ourselves into a place of reverence internally, that will help us make decisions on a daily basis that brings that reverence into practice.

 

Nature Wisdom, Engagement, and Reciprocity: How can we accomplish achieving this deep respect of nature? Time, effort and engagement, are three ways that come to mind. Part of respect comes with interaction and time; the more time we invest in connecting with nature, the more our respect will grow for it. Further, by engaging in connection with nature, we learn to value it; the more we value it and the more we engage, the more we are able to shift our internal socialization and build more rich connections with the earth.  In other words, all of these pieces of the framework that I’ve shared work together, ultimately, to build reverence for the living earth.  Practicing any part of the framework can help lead to reverence.

 

Reframing Nature: Another activity that can be helpful here is reconsidering aspects of nature that you don’t like. For example, I have always had bad outbreaks of poison ivy, and never wanted much to do with the plant. In the process of studying herbalism with Jim McDonald, however, he helped open up my eyes to what poison ivy does on a landscape–how it protects wild places, how it teaches us awareness.  I did even more research on poison ivy after that and discovered its role in responding to climate change and higher levels of carbon in the atmosphere. By learning about poison ivy, and sitting near her (and yes, contining to be covered with her all summer long) I learned to respect her.  And in this respect, cultivate an entirely new relationship with her, one that is rooted in respect and reverence rather than disregard. This is to say, take something you may not be as comfortable with and learn about it, let it teach you and guide you, and over time, develop a respectful relationship.  I think in a second example, when my beehives were destroyed by a bear and my chickens were eaten by hawks, it taught me about honoring the predators.

Hawthorn berries, full of medicine and life

Hawthorn berries, full of medicine and life

 

Learning Anew: Finally, a third activity is to learn about something you have no idea about: the life cycle of an insect, observing the slow opening of a flower, and so on.  New experiences and new exposure can lead you to a place of respect and awe.  For example, a few years ago I took up the study of sacred geometry, and began learning about the way in which geometry unfolded in the world (and in my own body) such as through the golden spiral, the pentagram, and more.  One day I was walking and saw some brambles that had been cut (blackberry), and there, both in each flower and in each stalk, was the pentacle reflected.  Since then, I see the pentacle everywhere, and it reminds me of the sacredness of life.

 

Honoring Nature

While respecting nature is primarly mindset you adopt through experience, honoring nature is an activity.  I wrote a bit last week about offerings, and rituals as a kind of offering, and I’d like to continue that discussion here today. If we think about the way we honor humans–say, soldiers, guests, or digintaries, we may offer gifts (offerings), set aside special spaces for them (statuary, memorials, etc), hold special dinners or other kinds of celebrations in their honor.  I believe that honoring nature in this way is no different–its not even *how* you do that is important, its simply the practice of doing it. The “how” part of the equation can be tied to a particular tradition (and I’ll share ideas rooted in the druid revival tradition), but as long as it is giving back, and not taking (see recprocity post), it will likely be appriciated by the land and her spirits.  (And yes, I take a very animistic approach to druidry, so these suggestions are also rooted in that perspective).

 

Honoring Through Ritual: One way to honor the land is through regular rituals.  From a certain perspective, every seasonal celebration that uses the wheel of the year, the wheel of the sun (solstices, equinoxes, cross quarter days) and lunar events (like full moon meditations) is honoring the passing of the time, which is inherently honoring nature.  We can do more specific things to honor nature as well, including developing local seasonal celebrations and observances (the first snowfall, etc) or land healing rituals (such as this one we did at MAGUS last year).

 

Poison Ivy shrine

Poison Ivy shrine

Shrines and Sacred Spaces. A second way that we can honor nature is through building and tending of shrines and sacred spaces, both indoors and outdoors, to honor specific aspects of nature.  Recently, for example, I was doing in-depth work with the spirit of the black elder tree, and as part of that, I created a shrine inside my art studio and also honored the elder by making offerings. Your shrines or sacred spaces might be bee and butterfly gardens, meditation gardens, stone circles, stone cairns, or other shrines.  Again, the intent here is what matters–intent and making sure that the shrine is healing and not damaging to the earth or the ecosystem.  This is part of why I like using gardens for this kind of work as much as possible.

Honoring through Sacred Action: Another way in which we can honor the land directly is by mitigating our impact on the earth. I’ve written a lot about the different ways this can happen here on the Druid’s garden blog: through shifting our lifestyle choices, our eating, planting trees, recycling, composting, walking rather than driving, reducing our energy consumption, and much more.

Communing with Nature

A final way of engaging in nature reverence is through communing with nature.  Nature can often facilitate deeply spiritual and sacred experiences for us that help us understand not only the land but our place in it.  I consider communing to be on a much different and deeper level than simply observing–communing is an intentional act that sets us apart from our regular lives and tied, instead, to the living earth.

Druid Retreat: Doing a druid retreat is a great way to commune with nature and to heal and grow as a human being and spiritual person.  Druid retreats can last a day to several weeks or more, depending on your own needs and opportunity.  They are quiet times for you to deeply commune with the living earth, focus on your own spirituality, and attend to your relationship with the living earth.  More on druid retreats in my two-part series: part 1 and part 2.

 

Vision Questing / Ritual in Nature. Different traditions do longer rituals in nature differently, and so you might look to your tradition or intuition for ideas. I did a 48 hour vision quest with a group practicing the Sweet Medicine Sundance tradition and it was an incredible experience that was well facilitated and offered me much insight–even six years later, the experience continues to resonate within me.  Other opportunites I’ve seen have been initiation or coming of age ceremonies where individuals are sent off into the woods for an evening; or women’s circles that drum into the night deep in the woods.  If you don’t have an opportunity to do this with an existing group, consider your own “ritual in nature” over a period of hours or days (and see some of my suggestions for the druid’s retreat, above).

 

Quiet Moments in Nature: Taking quiet moments in nature is another simple way to commune.  Spend a moment watching the passing of a herd of deer, watch the flow of a quiet stream, observe a busy flowering bush full of insects, or to watch the rustle of the leaves in the trees.  These quiet moments need to be only a few minutes, but they will allow you to slow down, breathe, and deeply connect with the living earth.

Signs and symbols in wildlife during the druid retreat

Signs and symbols in wildlife during the druid retreat

 

The Druid’s Anchor Spot: Another technique I detailed earlier on this blog is what I call the “druid’s anchor spot”; this is a place where you go, daily if possible, but certainly regularly, to commune with nature.  You can simply observe the passing of the seasons, the ways in which the space changes over time and in different weather.  You might create a shrine there or do other kinds of ritual activities.  It is simply a space for you to be.

 

Nature reverence is as much a mindset as it is an activity; the deeper we are able to go into our spiritual practice, I believe, the deeper our connection with the living earth is.  This certainly isn’t an exhaustive list of the ways that you might practice nature reverence–if any of my readers have additional suggestions or ideas, I would absolutely love to hear them.  Thank you for joining me on this month-long journey into connecting deeply with the living earth!

 

A Druid’s Guide to Connecting with Nature, Part I: A Framework July 8, 2018

A lot of people find druidry because they want to “connect” with nature.  They want to attune to nature, feel part of it, gain knowledge and wisdom about it. But what does “connecting” to nature look like in practice?  Going out in the woods and feeling good?  Knowing the name of trees?  Walking with sacred intent in a natural place?  Spending time in nature?  All above the above? And so, over the next few posts, I want to spend more time with the concept of “connecting to nature” and share some strategies for what people can do to connect with nature in a multitude of ways.

As I’ve written about earlier, part of what I see as the core of druidry as a spiritual tradition is the work of “connection.” In that post, I talked about connecting to nature, connecting to the spirit, and connecting to the creative practices as three ways in which connection is manifest in this tradition. And, I believe, it is this search for connection that underlies so much of the interest in nature-based spiritual paths like druidry and the growing amount of druids worldwide.

Connecting to nature at the rocky shore

Connecting to nature at the rocky shore

 

A Framework for “Nature Connection”

I find that older books on nature can really offer perspectives that we’ve sometimes forgotten about. For example, The Field Book of Nature Activities and Conservation (1961) by Wiliam Hillcourt, five nature-oriented actions are outlined in the opening chapter. He suggests that we can know nature, probe nature, use nature, do nature, and conserve nature. I think this offers a beginning of a useful framework for thinking about this topic.

 

Drawing upon his five categories, and adding in my own definitions and additional areas that are pertinent to druids gives us a nature connection framework with four major areas with three specific activities for each area.

Nature Wisdom

The basis of much of nature connection is rooted in building an understanding and knowledge of the living earth. This first category, which I call “nature wisdom” helps us do just that.

  • Knowing nature – Knowing nature includes two aspects: knowledge, that is, learning about nature and being able to identify aspects of nature, ecosystems, ecology, botany, and much more.  This knowledge is typically gained from books, classes, and teachers.  It is knowledge that is passed on to us as part of human wisdom.  While knowing about nature used to be something that every human had, and was part of the formal or informal knowledge that was passed to each generation, for many of us living in western contexts, this often needs to be learned anew.  From my perspective, if I am going to honor nature, I better know something about her as well, and that “knowing nature” helps me begin to do that.
  • Understanding nature – As the druid’s prayer suggests, there is a distinction between knowledge and understanding. Knowing is having a piece of information in your head (e.g. wild yam is a forest-dwelling vine that has heart-shaped leaves). Understanding is the kind of knowing that can only be gained through direct experience in nature.  (Wild yam grows up this tree in this particular pattern and has these variations in the leaves. And it has a good energy about it.) Direct experience leads to understanding. I truly believe that both knowledge and understanding are necessary for building “nature wisdom.”
  • Probing nature – Probing nature is not something that everyone does, but it is something that everyone could do.  This can mean anything from scientific observations and interactions where we build knowledge about nature to well as building your own understanding of nature through systematic nature journaling, observation, and so forth. This is what the great naturalists did as they built systematic knowledge of nature; this what every citizen scientist does as she logs the first blooms through Project Budburst. This is also what any organic gardener does as he carefully tracks yields of vegetables based on different soil amendments. Asking questions and seeking answers about nature is what “probing nature” is all about.

Abundance of harvest

Abundance of harvest

Nature Engagement

Nature Activity is the second broad category that helps us establish a connection with nature by engaging with and through nature. This category includes how we use nature, interact with nature, and do things in nature.

 

  • Using Nature – That humans can–and need to–use nature is a key part of not only our connection with nature, but also for our survival. Using nature is twofold: on one hand, it is about learning how to use the natural world for meeting our needs; on the other, it is about the reciprocation activities that must be present in that use so that it is sustainable over a period of time. So using nature includes learning the uses of many plants, animals, and other aspects of nature and would include foraging, natural building, hunting, and bushcraft skills.  This is about how to work with nature to bring productive abundance to our gardens and lands, how to make dyes or spin cloth from plants we grow, and so many more ways that we can turn a part of nature into something that we can eat, wear, or make.  And, it is also understanding local plant or animal populations, understanding the carrying capacity of the land, and learning how to give back.  That is,  engaging in sustainable (minimally) or regenerative use where we give as much as we get (through tending the wilds, scattering seeds, and doing other regenerative activities, see next section).
  • Nature Activity – These are the various activities that you can engage in  while in nature, such as kayaking, camping, backpacking, skiing, and so on. These activities help us get into new parts of nature and let us have fun and relaxation while doing so. Nature, then, becomes a canvas for some of the ways we engage in healthful activities and learn more about the living world.
  • Creating with/through nature – A third way that nature activity happens is through the flow of awen, through creative inspiration.  This might include finding aspects of nature as a muse for creative acts (poetry, song, dance, music, artwork, etc) or else directly working with nature in terms of creating artistic media (wooden drums, berry inks, vine-based charcoals, hand papermaking, etc.). This category is essentially the synthesis of the bardic arts and the living earth–and there is much to explore here!

 

Nature Reciprocity

Inherent in the use of nature and our dependency on nature is reciprocation. Inherent in the term “sustainability” is the idea that what we take from the land still allows that land to be abundant and healthful, that the resources used will be able to replenish themselves (with or without human help).  But, like many permaculture designers, I find that the term “sustainability” lacks the power of good–the recognition that humans have took too much (at least here in the US) for over three centuries.  It isn’t enough to sustain, but we must learn to nurture and regenerate. This helps us achieve long-term health and balance of the land while also attending to our own needs.  This reciprocity has at least three areas.

  • Conserving nature – Working to protect nature and conserve existing ecosystems; such as those that are pristine or those that are actively healthy or healing. This includes a range of “conservation” activities that may include protecting new areas, protecting endangered species, encouraging native plant and pollinator populations, river cleanups, building new trail systems, political action, and so on. Conserving nature can also include exploring our own ways of reducing our impact on the planet as a whole, engaging in actions that help us preserve and protect existing resources from further degradation and exploitation.
  • Regenerating and Healing Nature – Working with the land to help heal damaged ecosystems and bring ecosystems back into health, we might use both ritual means (land healing ceremonies) and physical means (such as permaculture design techniques). In this case, we recognize that a great deal of land has been degraded and we can work actively to help be a force of good and bring these lands to a healthier state ecologically.  For example: turning a lawn into a butterfly sanctuary or a food forest is a good example of this practice.
  • Offerings to Nature: Throughout time, humans have recognized that rituals and ceremonies designed to offer something back, physically or metaphysically, was also part of reciprocity.  Offerings in this case are symbolic representations of our understanding of the give and take relationship we have with the earth that provides abundance. A wassail ceremony, for example, is an excellent example of the kind of ceremony I am talking about, as are simple blessings and offerings of food, drink, etc.

 

Nature Reverence

A nature based shrine

A nature based shrine

Everything that I’ve been writing about is a form of honoring nature.  When you develop nature wisdom, you honor nature.  When you learn how nature can offer you so much–and what you can offer in return–you are honoring nature.  But there are also specific activities that are more distinct, more intentional, that put honoring nature as central.

  • Respecting Nature – I believe that honoring nature begins, first and foremost, with a mindset. Most people in Western society are socialized to think of themselves first–what can I do that best benefits me, etc.  Through respect of nature, we can add “what can I do that best benefits the land” as an additional (or primary) category in our minds.  Recognizing and engaging in thought, word, and deed that recognizes the sanctity of life and the living earth  is the first step in honoring nature.  This internal mindset, then, will manifest as outward action in a variety of ways.
  • Honoring nature – Honoring nature also involves offering respect and reverence for the natural world and recognizing the sanctity of all life through ritual and intentional action.  This can be through engaging in various kinds of ritual for benefit of life on the planet and the living earth–such as through seasonal celebration or land healing rituals. Another way we might honor nature is through creating physical spaces in our homes and out on the broader landscape. This may include creating physical shrines upon the landscape, home altars, and more.
  • Communing with nature – Nature can often facilitate deeply spiritual experiences for us, experiences that help us understand the land and our place in it in greater depth.  Many traditions facilitate these experiences surrounding rites of passage or coming of age rituals, but these experiences are open to anyone. Having deeply intense and spiritual experiences with nature; experiences that may fundamentally alter your understanding of yourself, your spiritual practice, and the living earth.  May include things like a druid retreat, vision questing, journeys, long-term work on a single site (like a druid’s anchor spot), and more.

 

Looking at this list above, there are clearly a lot of ways that “connection’ with nature can happen. There are likely ways I’m missing,  but I do think that this list is a good start for someone who wants to connect but isn’t sure how to do so beyond the “go into the woods and feel good” kind of thing!  Since each of these four topics can be a post in itself, that’s exactly what I’ll do next–delve into activities for each of these and how we might engage deeply with them.  Blessings as you connect with the living earth!

 

Authenticity, Ancestors and the Druid Revival Tradition: Reclaiming our Ancestors and Living Druidry Today April 22, 2018

A mobile army of metaphors, metonyms, anthropomorphisms, in short, a sum of human relations which were poetically and rhetorically heightened, transferred, and adorned, and after long use seem solid, canonical, and binding to a nation. Truths….are coins which have lost their image and now can be used only as metal, and no longer coins.”

“On Truth and Lying in a Moral Sense” Nietzsche, P. 250

 

Standing stones in Bangor, PA (recently set)

Standing stones in Bangor, PA (recently set)

There seems to be a preoccupation with “authenticity” and “truth” within the druid community (and outside of it). Time and time again, people have asked me a lot about the history of the tradition, the “truth” of the druid revival material, the lack of knowledge about the Ancient druids, and how we can be a “legitimate” religious or spiritual tradition. This has come not only from the outside, but also from members of the two druid orders to which I belong, including new folks that start digging into some of the history of the druid revival. Because, as soon as one starts reading on either the ancient druids or revival druids, truth and authenticity seem to be a never-ending focus. For example, from the back cover of The Druids (Ellis, 2005), “Finally, a book that separates fact from mythology, telling us what we can and cannot know about the ancient Druids.” In the same book’s opening pages, Ells says, “The simple truth is that one person’s Druid is another person’s fantasy. The Druids have been conjured in a wide variety of perceptions, as to who they were, what they believed and what they taught, since the sixteenth century” (11).  In 1927, Kendrick writes of the “prodigious amount of rubbish” written on Druids in The Druids: A Study in Celtic Prehistory.  These scholarly sources, of course, have their own bias situated within the realm of what is acceptable scholarly work. However, even within our own druid orders, similar conversations are also being had.

 

The underlying questions seem to be: is this an authentic tradition? Is it true? From where does our truth derive? Is it real, even if some of what we based our practices on is historically suspect or created by our spiritual ancestors? These are very good questions for those who have been practicing druidry to ask, especially concerning the rather “colorful” past that the Druid Revival tradition has had. This questioning typically comes from two sources: first, we have A) so little left of what the Ancient Druids actually did/believed/practiced (less than 12 pages in total, written mostly by the enemies of the druids, the Romans) and B) the Druid Revival itself is, in part, assumed to be based on elaborate “forgeries” and “creative repurposing” from leaders of the early Druid revival (like Iolo Morganwg’s Barddas). Further, the question of authenticity is the basis of one of the larger rifts within the modern druid community in terms of where we base our practices (Celtic Reconstructivism vs. Revival Druidry).  So let’s dig into this a bit today and see how deep this rabbit hole of authenticity really goes.

 

“Authenticity” Challenge 1: On the Changing Nature of Text and Text Ownership

There is little doubt that the history of the Druid Revival is clouded with many inaccuracies, misunderstandings, and downright fraudulent texts. Iolo Morganwg as his contemporaries claimed to be working from ancient lost texts, and in some cases, they certainly were. But as much “ancient knowledge” might be true within their texts, there is also a lot of their own original material (creatively repurposed and or heavily adapted) to fill in the gaps. For a while, it was accepted that much of what Revival Druids believed was a carefully constructed fable perpetrated by Edward Williams (Iolo Morganwg); now, some recent scholarship (such as John Michael Greer’s work on the Coelbren), shows that it might be based on more original material than originally believed.

 

One of the most important issues to understand within Revival Druid tradition is the radically changing definitions of history, accuracy, and plagiarism. In the 20th and 21st centuries, we are very concerned—one might say obsessed—with copyrights and originality.  I’m a writing professor by trade, and I can speak from direct experience at the near obsession our current academic culture has with plagiarism: a plagiarizing student is subject to severe academic sanctions that can, in certain cases, lead to them being permanently expelled or losing tuition money. If I were caught plagiarizing a professional academic publication, I would lose my job and be permanently ostracized from my field. When examining figures like Iolo Morganwg who developed original works based on earlier manuscripts, we often apply the same academic standards, viewing them as frauds or fakes; someone who committed serious crimes against history and accuracy.

 

Druid Wisdom

Druid Wisdom

But a deeper examination of the changing historical ethics at the time they were writing paints a different picture. Copying and creative expansion were used as teaching tools and often considered the highest form of flattery for most of human written history. Consider a work like Virgil’s Aneaead, which is a near-copy of Homer’s Odyssey (and Homer himself was likely several storytellers who based their work on still older works that were passed down from one poet to the next). Despite the “plagiarism”, Virgil’s work is still lauded as a masterpiece in its own right. Even William Shakespeare, considered one of the greatest playwrights, borrowed extensively from previous predecessors and contemporaries for his manuscripts, including his famous Romeo and Juliet. Ronald Hutton in The Druids, writes, “Ancient historians simply did not work according to the same priorities and conventions as their successors in the twentieth century. They were less concerned to establish the exact truth of the past than to propose lessons from it, of utility to present to future readers” (p. 5). In “What is an Author” Foucault (1977) describes the rise of the concept of ownership of a text—this ownership itself as a product of the commodification of goods and the rise of the consumerist society.  In other words, “ownership” of texts in this way has everything to do with the rise of our particularly form of capitalism.  Foucalt demonstrates that before the 18th and 19th centuries when writing was commodified, writing was an act, not a product or thing. Through this Foucault demonstrates that the very idea of “Authorship” and “ownership”—ideas which we so highly prize in our materialistic and post-industrialized world—were nearly non-existent through most of human history.

 

And so, we have a long-held historical and literary tradition of adapting material to suit a common purpose—often with cultural significance.  Hutton demonstrates that much of the renewed interest in the Ancient Druids during the early Druid Revival attached the term druid to all kinds of things.   For example, John Seldon, a politician living in the 14th and 15th centuries said that druids were the foundation for free assembly and the British Parliament while Thomas Caius in the same time period claimed the Druids were the intellectual heirs to Cambridge University (Haycock, 2001).  Obviously none of these things were necessarily true, but they were done as part of a cultural reclaiming act and in a way that was within acceptable bounds at the time.

 

To be clear: I think part of the reason that the Druid Revival materials are “suspect” and treated with disrespect compared to say, Shakespere or Virgil, has everything to do with time. Apparently 156 years is simply not long enough.  Shakespere or Virgil are older, established in the canon, and therefore, not suspect to the same criticism that Iolo Morganwg and his contemporaries are. If Morganwg’s writings were from 1000 years earlier, there would be no suspicion. And because of the long historical and literary tradition present in many ancient texts, it is likely that many sacred texts, from all around the world, were probably created in the same way.  Its just that those mysteries are lost to time in ways that Barddas is not.

 

This is one important lesson for us to take away from the “authenticity” debate–we cannot apply the same standards of scholarship present in the 21st century to the 19th. There is a lot more to Barddas than what has been espoused by academics, that’s for certain.

 

“Authenticity” Challenge 2: On the Industrial Revolution and Changing Ecological Realities

Ducks on the Water at Yellow Creek State Park (PA)

Ducks on the Water at Yellow Creek State Park (PA)

The other piece of this, of course, is the relationship between our spiritual ancestors and the crashing force of the industrial revolution.  Two hundred and fifty years ago, our spiritual ancestors faced a radically changing world: a stable agrarian society, where the common people shared common lands and people made their own homecrafted goods was quickly disappearing. Their society was being quickly replaced by an exploitative society that forced farmers into factories, that filled the skies with pollution and the rivers with poison, that undermined traditional ways of life, and that pillaged the natural world for raw materials. Of course, our spiritual ancestors looked to their own past histories, drawing deeply from what materials remained, to offer some alternative perspectives to what was unfolding before them.

 

I come at this particular issue from a place of deep compassion and understanding, as I, too, live in a region, a culture, and a civilization that continued to perpetuate the myth of progress, and whose ultimate aims are profit and exploitation. I wonder what any one of us would have done during that era—and I am grateful for the work that these spiritual pioneers did so that today, I have the tools and knowledge to thrive in these difficult times, to connect with the living earth, and to heal and regenerate the land becuase they paved the way for it..

 

Reclaiming our History and Honoring Our Ancestors of the Druid Revival Tradition

 

At this point, I’ve offered two key arguments that help us shift our understanding of the origins of the druid revival. First, that Morganwg and his contemporaries that helped found the Druid Revival tradition were working under very different cultural and scholarly values and that it isn’t appropriate to hold them to our standards of today. Second, Morganwig and his contemporaries were responding to the beginning of an ecological and social crisis (of which we are now experiencing the final act). If we accept these two arguments, the question now is, what do we do with this information? I see at least three pathways forward: reclaiming our history and honoring the ancestors, recognizing druidry as a “living tradition”, and reframing authenticity as direct experience.  We’ll now explore each of these in the second half of this post.

 

From a matter of historical accuracy, we have challenges to the legitimacy and authority of our tradition from outside of our community. For example, Ellis (2005) writes of the present Druid revival with disdain, “With the onset of the 1960’s ‘Hippies’ and ‘Alternative Religions’ the Druids were fair game again” (277). Ellis is quick to dismiss current Druidic spirituality as a “quick fix on spirituality; because people, in the quest for truth and meaning in life, which seems the perennial human drive, prefer simple answers. It is easier to accept the cozy pictures of non-existent romantic Celts and Druids rather than ponder the uncomfortable realities.” (280).  Clearly, Ellis has not dug very deeply in our own rich traditions as a teaching order to understand the kinds of work that a modern Druid does. Druidry is not a passive spiritual path but rather one in which druids must engage both the difficult questions surrounding our colorful past and the ecological and spiritual realities of the present. I think that these kinds of perspectives and challenges will likely always be with us—but these are no different than the same kinds of challenges faced by other religious traditions.

 

Honoring our Ancestors

Calling in our Ancestors

Calling in our Ancestors

However, to address external challenges to our own legitimacy, I believe we first must begin in hearts and minds of those of us who are the spiritual descendants of the Druid Revival. I think, at the outset, we need to seek peace with our history and our ancestors. We might begin to honor those founders of the Druid Revival tradition as ancestors—for that very much is what they are. It is highly likely that, without Morganwg’s work, we might not have a modern Druid spiritual tradition in any sense of the world. Morganwg, Stuckley, and their contemporaries were pioneering spirits whose work and inspiration continues within our tradition. Each time we invoke “Awen” or say the druid’s prayer, or draw upon the three currents or declare peace in the quarters—these basic practices are rooted in their works. We can’t use these, in good faith, while attacking and holding in disregard those who helped bring us these practices.  So within our communities and druid orders, I believe it is important to begin to honor them with the due respect given to any other ancestor.

 

Recognizing Druidry as a Living Tradition

A number of years ago, I was able to attend a workshop with Penny Billington, who published Paths of Druidry and runs OBOD’s magazine, Touchstone. When asked about the colorful history of the druid revival, she gave one of the best answers I had ever heard. She said that we were lucky, as druids, to not have any ancient sacred texts holding us back. She said that druidry is a living tradition that we are co-constructing, and as such, it could adapt to the rapidly changing world. Nature is our text and our greatest teacher. And so, we co-create this tradition as we grow, both as individuals, but also as druid orders and as participants in the broader movement of reconnecting with the earth.

 

I have found a lot of peace in Penny Billington’s statement. When people ask me things like “Well, how old is druidry anyways?” I know it’s often an underlying challenge to the authenticity of this path. But, as I’ve meditated on her statement over a period of years, I think it holds tremendous value and also tremendous wisdom.

 

While other traditions struggle to address and interpret ancient texts in a very different day and age, our tradition is on the forefront of adapting. In AODA, for example, we recognize that nature-based spiritual practice is not only rooted in the rituals and energetic work, but also, in our own connection and path to walk more lightly and kindly upon the living earth.  This is not something a text of 1000 years ago gave us.  It’s something that we know to be inherently true when we look outside of our window or read the news—we know if we are to align with the living earth spiritually, especially in these times, we must also change our physical actions. This is something that even 75 or 100 years ago was not as painfully obvious as it is today, with the rise of climate science and the harsh ecological realities that we experience.

 

Druidry is helping us lay the groundwork for what is to come if the human race is to survive, both personally but also culturally.  We are rediscovering ancient ways of knowing, living, and doing in the world.  Nature teaches us this through her own rhythms, cycles, and truths.  Our ancient ancestors around the globe learned all they needed to know from observing and interacting with the living earth on a constant basis: and as we return to these same practices, we uncover wisdom lost with the eradication of indigenous wisdom around the globe.  It might turn up in a different form, but it will turn up again—because we are getting it the same way our ancestors got it—from the sacred book of nature.

 

Our tradition has room to grow, to adapt, to change—just like nature herself.  By learning from nature, by heeding her voice, we are putting ourselves, and by example, others, on a more earth-centered path.

 

The Path of Druidry

The Path of Druidry

Of course, there may be a lingering discomfort may be present with the idea that we can create a personally valid and meaningful practice that works for us and that isn’t based on millennia of religious understanding or a holy book. That one can, essentially, call upon nature’s divine inspiration and craft something that works. The question, to me, isn’t whether or not 2000+ years of previous human history validates my practice—the question for me is, “Does it work? Is it meaningful?” To me, it doesn’t matter that some of it is rooted in Iolo’s writings, in the insights and practices of others, and in our own adaptations and understandings.  If you are one of those folks who feel this way, consider this: we are working from ancient understandings, even if those understandings are fragmented. We are also working from a 300 year old tradition that has grown, evolved, and is stronger today perhaps than ever before.

 

Reframing Authenticity through Experience

Directly stemming from the acknowledgement of druidry as a living tradition that adapts much like nature herself, one more critical piece seems to be at play in the discussion of authenticity, and that is the role of direct experience, personal knowing, intuition, and heart-centered experiences.

 

The idea of “certainty” (and to some degree, “authenticity”), stems in part from the rise of what is known as “modernism”: a philosophy rooted in rationalism and the development of the scientific method. It was through the rise of modernism and the industrial revolution that we moved from a “heart centered” to a “head centered” culture.  Modernism displaced the idea that core of the human was in feeling, experience, emotion–centered in the heart (this has been discussed through various; one of my favorite treatments of the topic is in the opening Stephen Harrod Buhner’s Plant spirit medicine). In a head centered/rational culture, we live with the not-always conscious assumptions that what is certain or authentic is what can be empirically validated, measured, or assessed.

 

Some of druidry’s core practices and practitioner experiences don’t fit within these head-centered boundaries. They are in the realm of personal experience, emotional knowing, intuition, and inner experience; they are in the realm of the heart. I can’t empirically validate many of my experiences as a druid, but that doesn’t make them any less meaningful. It seems, perhaps, that a different worldview and basic set of assumptions would better serve us—and simply acknowledging that one can exist and helping us get into the framework for it, would be beneficial. A worldview where scientific knowledge of the natural world (which is useful and wonderful) lives side-by-side with experiential ways of knowing, and that each of these have relevancy and power in our tradition.

 

I also want to note here: I teach masters and doctoral courses in social science and educational research methods as part of my profession. I am also well published learning researcher. It is because of this expertise that I know how very inappropriate the scientific method is for the work of inner spiritual life. There are questions that empirical researchers can answer, through observation and interaction with the physical reality.  And, there are questions that are unanswerable with these methods because they occur on a meta-physical (beyond physical) reality where the scientific method cannot reach. Most deep spiritual truths fall into the realm of unanswerable questions—and that is why it is in the realm of spiritual understanding, rather than historical or scientific, that I seek my own inner truth. We seem to forget, as a society, that there is more than one way of creating knowledge. Recognizing these multiple ways of making meaning, and balancing these ways, are critical for the development of a fulfilled spiritual life. And so, while as a professional, I embrace the scientific method as the meaning-making and knowledge-building tools that they are, I firmly reject them as the basis for my inner spiritual life and my tradition.

 

Conclusion

In the end, the questions I ask about the druid tradition aren’t about if it is authentic or real.  I don’t really care. In all honesty, that’s not the metric through which I’m measuring the effectiveness of this tradition. What I want to know is if the tradition “works” for me and others along this path.  And the answer has been resoundingly clear to me: druidry is a living spiritual tradition that “works.” If it didn’t work and it wasn’t meaningful, we wouldn’t have so many people seeking it out, going against the grain of the broader religious and cultural traditions, and continuing to persevere with it.  To me, that is the measure of authenticity.

 

Revival Druidry, as a phenomenon and as the forebears to the AODA, OBOD, and other Druid organizations, has much to teach us and how issues surrounding “truth” can, in themselves, be a source of inspiration and education. As druids might consider treating our knowledge of the Druid Revival (and Ancient Druids) in the same manner that we treat the many fables, tales, and stories.  It is not the “truth” that we cannot possibly know for certain that is important. Rather, the Druid Revival provides us with something more valuable than a simple historical fact or empirical reality—they provide us with a rich history and framework, and that history can today be used for teaching and reflection.  And like all great works, the story changes as the tale is told.  It morphs into what is necessary for that era and time. Our druid revival predecessors offered us much in the way of their own wisdom, their own truths—and we can honor them as the rightful ancestors that they are. They also left much up to us, to find our own way in our living tradition, seeking direct wisdom and experience form the living earth.

 

References

Ells, P. B. (2005). A Brief History of the Druids. New York: Caroll & Graf Publishers.

Foucault (1977).  “What is an Author?”  Found: http://www.scribd.com/doc/10268982/Foucault-What-is-an-Author

Haycock, D. B. William Stukeley: Science, Religion and Archaeology in Eighteenth-Century England

Hutton, R. (2007). The Druids. London: Hambledon Coniunuum.

Kendrick (1927). The Druids: A Study in Celtic Prehistory

Nichols, R. (1992).   The Book of Druidry.  2nd edition.  New York: Thorsons.

Nietzsche (1873). “On Truth and Lying in an Extra-Moral Sense” (1873)

 

Sacred Landscapes, Part IV: Sacred Time, Sacred Space April 8, 2018

A woodburned sign bidding druids to enter a sacred space

A woodburned sign bidding druids to enter a sacred space

“This is sacred time, this is sacred space.” At the end of the opening of every OBOD ritual, this powerful statement is made.  But what does “sacred time, sacred space” really mean? What is “the sacred” and how do we know it?  What is sacred in the context of American Druidry, where we do not have an abundance of ancient stone circles or accessible sacred sites? In this post, I want to spend some time today thinking about the ways we might enact the sacred in our own lives and lands as part of building sacred landscapes and re-enchanting our land.

 

In my first post in this series, I talked about the “disenchantment” of the world through industrialization and the rise of a religious tradition that did not acknowledge the land as sacred. And truly, a disenchanted worldview–where only the physical matters, and where the physical landscape is viewed only as a resource from which to extract wealth–literally strips the sacredness from everything: very little is “sacred” in our current culture. In this culture, money, and the pursuit of it, is the most sacred thing. Some of our national landmarks are tourist attractions, and may hold sacredness for someone (like the Veterans memorial for someone who lost a solider at war) but even these spaces are fairly rare. Churches, mosques, synagogues and other such places may also hold some sacredness still, but even that seems fairly minimal. Most major natural wonders are now tourist attractions, and tourists are anything but respectful or reverent. Even sacred places around the world, like Stonehenge, are routinely desecrated through garbage, graffiti, and more.

 

I think that what I’m describing is the reality of living in a disenchanted world, where nothing is truly sacred any longer. If we don’t know how to treat anything as sacred, how can we re-enchant our lands? In this post, I start to explore some of the building blocks and considerations for doing this.

 

The Building Blocks: Intentionality, Time, Meaning, Symbolism, and Energy

In order to create sacred spaces, we need to consider a number of different building blocks that help us pick up the pieces and begin again.

 

Intentionality. The first building block of bringing the sacred into everyday life is about intentionality and acknowledgement.  Sacredness happens in many cases because we choose to make it happen. We choose to offer an event, a place, an object, a mantra or prayer, or even a person some special meaning, some important significance, something that takes it from an everyday “mundane” thing and into something that has meaning beyond the every day. That that object , place, event, mantra, and so forth is something different, something out of the ordinary, something that requires reverence and special treatment in some way.  Individuals can create the sacred, but so can groups, on a different level.

 

Cherish Earth Sign - made from old barn wood

Cherish Earth Sign – made from old barn wood

For example, declaring intentions at the start of a ceremony where you are establishing sacred space and time (such as the OBOD opening) is a sacred act.  Speaking the words is a powerful act that sets your intentions. When I was homesteading in Michigan on my land, I created a lot of signage that also set intentions. My garden had a sign that said “Cherish Earth” (which will go on my new garden this year).  That sign set the intentions for me working in the garden each day–as a place of sacredness, as soil to cherish and nurture.

 

Time. Time helps us build a relationship with space. The more that we acknowledge and engage with a sacred place, thing, object, prayer, and so on over a period of time, the more sacredness it begins to take on. This is both because of human psychology (repeated patterns become individual rituals) but also because of magical reality (the more energy you put into something, the stronger that thing becomes). A simple analogy here might help illustrate this point. Let’s say you start with an empty field, and each time you visit a sacred place, you bring a stone. After 10 visits, you have 10 stones, and have built a stone cairn. After 100 visits, you have four stone cairns at each of the quarters as well as a whole stone circle and spiral labyrinth. Thus, repetition and time can certainly build sacredness in a space. This is an important concept in an American Druid setting and offers us one of the keys to sacred space and time here in the US.  Time, by the way, is one of the pieces often “missing” for American druids. We don’t have that sense of history and presence of old stone circles in the way that our UK counterparts do. Given that, we have different kinds of work and possibilities here on our soil.

 

Meaning. Ultimately, something is sacred because we choose to give it meaning. The nature of that meaning, and the spiritual experiences we may gain through that meaning, is paramount to establishing anything sacred. Part of the reason we have less sacred spaces, times, and places is that the only thing that has real meaning and singificance is money in our culture. Recognizing the meaning and importance of other things is part of establishing the sacred.

 

Symbolism. Symbolism here, also plays a role. We can draw upon existing symbolism (Awen, ogham, the pentacle/pentagram, runes, colors, animals, directions, etc) to bring more meaning to new places/objects/prayers, etc. that we want to bring more sacredness to. Symbolism is connected to meaning–some symbols have long-standing relationships with particular themes (like the pentacle and pentagram, which have been protective symbols for over 5,000 years and are woven into the fabric of our landscape). Symbols, then, help us shape meaning and establish the sacred.

 

Magic and Energy. Sacred space and sacred time is also, ultimately, about magic and about energy. The kind of energy that you can raise in a group setting through ritual (see next section, the kind of inherent energy that collects at the bottom of the waterfall, the telluric energy gushing forth out of a spring. In the hermetic tradition, the simple adage rings true: as above, so below; as within, so without. When we create sacred spaces in the physical world or interact with them, that raises energy on the inner planes. When we raise energy by calling the quarters, chanting, dancing, singing, and more, we bring forth energy, direct it, and shape it in some way. And for many sacred places and sacred landscapes, that energy stays in some way. In the case of the ley lines, as I described last week, the lines themselves faciliate the raising and transmission of energy all across the land.

 

 

Creating Sacred Time and Sacred Moments

Now that some of the building blocks have been covered, we can turn to ways to bring in the sacred on different scales and in different ways.  Sacred moments and time are not permanent sacred places, but ways of powerfully bringing in the sacred to everyday life.

 

Sacred Moments in Everyday Life. Let’s start by thinking about the different ways in which humans experience the sacred in everyday life.  Again, thinking about the building blocks above, we can bring in sacred meaning to everyday life in any number of ways—the key is to take a moment in time, give it meaning, and set intentionality.  When people say a prayer at a meal, for example, they are taking a sacred moment in everyday life.  You can also do this with natural events, as my example will now illustrate.

 

Snowy Oak Tree

Snowy Oak Tree

Here’s a simple example: in late November or early December of 2017, the first snowfall happened. I happened to be at work that day, on the 5th floor of our building (the top floor). I went into this lobby area in my department and began watching it in awe and reverence—the snowflakes were big and lazy and beautiful.  As I stood, another colleague of mine also came to the window. We acknowledged each other and our mutual love of snow, and then we stood, watching it, for probably about 10 minutes. We recognized, in each other, that the first snowfall was a significant and sacred event, and we took a quiet moment in an otherwise very busy and hectic day to revere it. This is a simple example of observing a natural event, in every day life, and taking a moment to respect and honor that event in life.

 

Sacred Times through Ritual. Another way in which we intentionally create sacred space and sacred time is through ritual. A lot of effort in the druid tradition goes into opening and closing a sacred space—usually about half of our ritual time is devoted to this activity. Why is it so critical?  For one, it takes time to do it right and well, to acknowledge the powers and call them forth, to protect the space, to cleanse and bless it.  But really, I think a lot of the time spent is in the mind—helping us come out of the mundane and cross the threshold into sacred awareness. We also declare it in some way, by declaring the space open, declaring sacred space/sacred time, and so forth—the declaration of it, the acknowledgement, that all of us are in agreement (in a group) or that you are doing this sacred thing is critical to the task at hand. We use intentionality, symbolism, and time to do this work.

 

Sacred Actions.  Another kind of sacredness we can bring to everyday life is the idea of living life in a sacred and intentional manner.  This is the kind of ‘everyday’ living that brings sacred awareness to your life.  For me, this involves ecological living and permaculture: I use permaculture principles as a guiding light to help me make decisions and recognize that with each moment, I am interacting on sacred land—my actions can help or harm that land.

 

Sacred Places: Natural and Created

Moving beyond moments, we can think about the kinds of natural and created larger sacred spaces that we might engage with, particularly here in the US, in places were we don’t have bountiful stone circles or ancient sites.

 

Sacred Places: Natural.  There are those places that have such inherent beauty and magic that they are already sacred.  These are places that we may come upon that simply have an existing “energy” about them that is so powerful and potent that you move forward with reverence and awe.

 

I’ve spoken about one of these places at length, here, on this blog: Laurel Hill State Park’s old growth Hemlock grove.  I remember the first time I walked into that grove, it had such a sacred presence about it. It took my breath away.  I had never seen anything like it—the ancient hemlocks, powerful and wise—just stood, waiting for me to do something. It is extremely dark, the understory is minimal, and the trees just go up and up.  Their trunks are so wide and old. It looks nothing like the other forests of Pennsylvania, who have all been logged multiple times and are in the place of regrowth.  Since that moment, I’ve spent a lot of time seeing other people, random people, not just druids I bring there, interact with the space.  They enter the grove, their eyes light up, their mouths open, and they grow quiet. It is spectacular, it is sacred, and it is meaningful to the everyday person.

 

Sacred Places: Intentional. Then there are those spaces that we create, that we build, over a period of time.  This might be individual or small sacred spaces like I’ve written about before: stone circles, sacred gardens, bee and butterfly sanctuaries, etc.  These are wonderful ways of bringing the sacred into our landscapes and everyday lives.

 

Stones at Four Quarters

Stones at Four Quarters

Or, this might be spaces that we create together, with our hearts and hands, like the stone circle at Four Quarters Interfaith Sanctuary. Four Quarters has been engaged in an ongoing ritual to create a stone circle for almost a quarter of a century—and it shows. When you walk into the space there, the stones sing to you. They greet you. They each have personality, presence, magic. It is unlike any other place I have been on this land in North America.  There can be a social aspect to creating sacred spaces. The idea of people coming together, for a common goal and vision, and lending their energy to meet that goal is a powerful experience.

 

 

Sacred as Relationship and Co-Creation

Creating sacred space and sacred time is ultimately about relationship.  It is about you being in relationship to something else: a waterfall, a moment in time, a stone circle, your relationship with what it is that you feel is sacred.  It is about you taking time out of regular, busy life to engage with the sacred and to co-create the sacred.  We co-create the sacred with each other, and we co-create the sacred with the power of the living earth. For me, this is why regular visits and regular rituals/moments are a critical part of thinking about sacred spaces and places. Like an old friend, I am building a relationship with a sacred space or place and that simply takes time.

 

 

Sacred Landscapes, Part III: Ley Lines and the Energy of the Earth April 1, 2018

Over the last two weeks, we’ve been exploring the idea of re-enchanting the world. Two weeks ago, I introduced the idea of re-enchantment through a discussion Max Weber’s claims that the world has been “disenchanted” by industrialization. Re-enchanting, then, is potential work that we as druids and earth-centered spiritual people might do. If we want to do this re-enchantment, however, we need to draw upon and better understand the ways in which ancient humans created sacred landscapes. In last week’s post, we explored the historical understanding of “ley lines” and alignments on the earth to understand some of the physical tools that ancient humans worldwide used to enchant the world. Today’s post continues this discussion in a more metaphysical sense–understanding the more modern “ley line theory” as it applies to earth energy and considering the energetic work we might do.

 

Ley Lines as Energy

Line of stumps in January - strong telluric energy.

Line of stumps in January – strong telluric energy.

As I mentioned in last week’s post, many people today in the metaphysical and druid communities think that ley lines are only energetic in nature, as in they are lines of energy flowing across the earth’s surface.  But ley lines have much more ancient roots that were also physically embodied upon the landscape through old straight tracks, mounds, marker stones, trees, stone circles, sacred sites, and much more.  The picture is a bit complex: it is clear that ancient humans had energetic/metaphysical/spiritual purposes for their ancient physical alignments (which I will explore more in this post) but, as “leys” were rediscovered, the physical and metaphysical features were also considered in isolation.

 

The modern conception of the ley line as an energetic line is traced by Pennick and Deverux in Lines on the Landscape. They argue that this conception began with a footnote that Dion Fortune read in W. Y. Evans Wentz’s The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries published in 1911. Wentz discusses in his footnote how fairy paths that “circulate the earth’s magnetism.” Fortune expands upon such an idea in her Goat Foot God (1936), where her characters are having a discussion of how to purchase a house for a ritual to invoke the Old Gods. This discussion includes a discussion of the lines of power that go between sacred sites, and how the house should be located along one of these lines of power (but not that close to the sacred sites themselves, due to tourist energy). By the 1960’s, with the publishing of John Mitchell’s The View Over Atlantis, Mitchell also picks up on Wentz’ footnote and expands this ley theory with the influence of Feng Shui and the dragon paths (lung mei), which he notes must be part of the earth’s natural flow of force or magnetism. Another term he uses for these energetic leys is the concept of “dragon currents” which I have heard also used in the modern occult scene. The View Over Atlantis led to many other discussions of energetic ley lines; this idea spread far and wide.  For example, dowsers picking up on the idea of earth energy and dowsing for ley lines. Another place that this energy of the earth as metaphysical reaches back into the old druid revival texts, although I haven’t seen it referred to as “leys” (the druid revival pre-dates this) but as “currents” of energy–the three currents: telluric (earth), solar, and lunar.

 

Of course, scholars working in a disenchanted worldview would dismiss the above discussions as hogwash and focus primarily on, physical features, but we have already established that western civilization is the only civilization in the world who has abandoned the metaphysical entirely–and look what a mess we are in!  Dion Fortune, W. Y. Evans Wentz, John Mitchell and other occultists were certainly onto something important–and something that ancient humans clearly knew and understood. The idea that ancient peoples knew and understood–and worked with–energy is certainly there in the historical records. Let’s now look at three ancient peoples and how they conceived of these “energy lines” to better understand the energetic side to ley line theory.

 

Ancient Chinese: Qi and Spirit Roads

In China, the concept of “Qi” or energy is still known and worked with.  Qi to the Chinese is understood as “universal energy” and they believe it flows in patterns similar to water.  We druids would call Qi by another name–Nywfre–the spark of life. In Ancient China, the long-standing practice of Feng Shui included working the landscape for harmonious living and being. Feng Shui literally means “wind-water” and focuses on the harmonization of features (physical and metaphysical) for the working of Qi. The Chinese believe that Qi is concentrated in the landscape in varying amounts, depending on the shape and features of the landscape and how humans have built into that landscape. The Chinese, then, can subtly shape landscapes over time with human-created features to bring the flow of Qi into harmony.

 

If there are “unfortunate” features in the landscape that would make Qi sluggish (which would cause a loss of vitality and fertility to the land) or flow too fast (which would cause burnout to the land), the practice of Feng Shui has means of altering the landscape through various techniques to remediate these unfortunate features. Straight mountain ridges or artificial straight lines (such as streets, railways, and so on) speed up the flow of Qi, and the termination points of these places (such as the end of a straight street) are considered to be problematic as the Qi flows too quickly and breaks up harmonious accumulations there.  These lines are also known as the “secret arrow.” The secret arrow is mitigated by dispersing the straight line with a wall, water fountain, building, windmill, and so on–these features will channel the Qi to the surrounding landscape in a more harmonious way.  Only the Chinese Emperor himself was able to harness the full power of Qi in the form of straight lines and straight tracks due to his rulership–which is critical also to understand the “energetic” aspects of leys.

 

Rulers, Royals, and *Regs

Sun rising over a straight ridge

Sun rising over a straight ridge

Many of the ancient ley lines were also connected to kings and rulership–as we see in a number of myths, a king or leader figure can literally represent the embodiment of the land and help hold the land’s fertility (this, for example, is the root of the ‘Great Rite’ ritual).  In fact, Pennick and Devereux argue that Kingship itself derives from a “straight movement” through the etymology of the indo-european root word *reg (to set straight).  Reg becomes regal, regency, regime, regin, realm, royal, rule, regulation, or regiment (p. 247).  A “ruler” can be both a straight edge and a king; these etymological connections take place in many languages other than English including German, Dutch, Old Saxon, Latin, French, and Hindi. The etymology is fascinating, and some researchers have surmised that the Indo European *reg traces the whole way back to the European Neolithic period where nomadic peoples began to transition to agricultural ones and the regs were those who led their people straight (the most ancient form of *reg may be some kind of ley surveyor) (p. 249).

 

Sacred alignments, likewise, were used in China, Egypt, and by the Aztecs all to “radiate” the king’s energy outward for rulership and to bring fertility of the land (p. 255).  For example, as Pennick and Devereux describe, the Emperor of China, sitting in the middle of his throne in the Imperial Palace in the Forbidden city, has a series of four cardinal gates, opening outward in the four directions–the energy of the Emperor himself radiating outward to his kingdom (p. 250).  Pennick and Devereux also note that the Imperial tombs have “spirit ways” that have long straight roads; it is said that spirits travel along straight roads.  These roads are not meant to be used by the living.

 

The Inca, likewise, used a Ceque system (a system of lines, radiating outward, appearing like a sunburst) from the Inca Temple of the Sun, where the Coricancha (the ruler of the Inca) sat, just like the Chinese Emperor. The Ceques were physical roads that radiated outward like rays on a sun; it is likely that the Cueques were laid out based on the Milky Way galaxy (p. 253).  The Ceques were leys–that is, they were marked straight paths- that led to huacas (shrines).  These Ceques led to 333 shrines, with 170 of those being springs or stones (p. 253). As Pennick and Devereux write, “The fact that ceques, like all ley-style alignments around the world, had multiple functions, with various degrees of utilitarian application.  The only common factor is that they all seem to have had some holy or magical quality…the straight line in the landscape was seen as a sacred line, whatever other function it had or came to have.” (p. 254).

 

Leys as a Vehicle for Spirits

As the Chinese example above describes, the Chinese knew that Ch’i (or spirit), flowed through straight lines. Pennick and Devereux also describe other cultures where the leys are seen as a vehicle for spirit: on Bali, for example, small “spirit walls” were built behind temple entrances to prevent certain kinds of local spirits (travelling in straight lines) from entering (p. 255). Fairy paths, likewise, were straight line roads between sites that were used exclusively by the “good people” in Celtic world, predominately, in Ireland.  To build a house or to sleep on one of these paths would surely draw misfortune. For example, in The Secret Country, Janet and Colin Bord describe a number of problems that people have had in Ireland with fairy paths: owners of a house built over a fairy path  would need to have doors on opposite sides, which could be opened to let the fairy through. In other cases, a corner of a house that was on a fairy path was knocked off to appease the good folk. W. Y. Wentz, in the Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries, notes that the Welsh Fairy, the Twylwth Teg, put to death humans who walk on certain paths.  These pathways are only for the spirits to use.

 

In a similar way, Pennick and Devereux describe the spirit path that is established between a Native American sweat lodge in the Sioux tradition. According to Lame Deer, a Sioux Medicine Man, the sweat lodge itself is believed to house the spirits of all living things.  The hole in the center of the lodge, the hole that will hold hot stones and have water poured to create steam, is considered to be the center of the world.  The soil from this hole is made into a mound outside, an unci mound (grandmother earth) about 10 paces from the lodge in a straight line.  Another 10 or so paces, also in a straight line, the fire burns.  This is known as a spirit path. When the ceremony begins, the power of the Great Spirit, as well as a powerful, beloved, ancestor (relative) will also be present in the pit. None can cross the line between the fire, the unci mound and the lodge itself.

 

Some paths can be walked, and others cannot

Some paths can be walked, and others cannot

Aboriginal Songlines & Singing Paths Act of Creation

Bruce Chatwin wrote The Songlines, which explores the Aboriginal Australian’s mythology surrounding the sacredness of the world, the creation of the world, and energetic “songlines” that cross the landscape.  These songlines, according to Chatwin, were “the labyrinth of invisible pathways which meander all over Australia and are known to Europeans as “dreaming-tracks” or “songlines”; and to Aboriginals as “Footprints of the Ancestors” or “The way of the law” (p. 2). The Aboriginals’ world creation myth included the ancestors as singing the land into being. Because of this, the Aboriginal Australians believed that the entire landscape of Australia was a sacred site. One of Chatwin’s informants, for example, also told him that the Aboriginal words for “country” and “line” were the same word–the Aboriginals saw the lines on the landscape as a sacred typography that was sung. His informant explained how “each totemic ancestor, while traveling through the country, was thought to have scattered a trail of words and musical notes along the line of his footprints, and how these Dreaming-tracks lay over the land as ‘ways’ of communication between the most far-flung tribes…a song was both map and direction finder. Providing you knew the song, you could always find your way across country” (p. 13).  The Aboriginal Ancestors’ songs were the acts of creation; those modern Aboriginals who went on ‘walkabout’ were making a sacred journey, a singing of re-creation, singing the original song and walking the original path of their ancestors who created the world.

 

Arkady, Chatwin’s primary informant, also describes the Aboriginal philosophy about the land as follows, “To wound the earth is to wound yourself, and if others wound the earth, they are wounding you. The land should be left untouched: as it was in the Dreamtime when the Ancestors sang the world into existence” (p. 11).

 

Remembering and Re-Creating the Sacred on the Landscape

What these examples above have explored is the idea that physical leys, in a number of places, are connected to energetic understandings of the world and the sacredness of the world.  In the case of the songlines, the leys do not even need to have physical markers–the songs themselves help determine the pathways.

Pennick and Devereux conclude by making the argument that, as the songlines themselves suggest, that the straight line ley is a universal concept, an archetypal one, that all major peoples understood and enacted in some way. They conclude their book with the following, “The straight line in the landscape, the result of another kind of human awareness interacting with a differently-percieved environment, reminds us that we have forgotten certain things.  We have forgotten about our inner life; we have forgotten that the land is sacred, and we have forgotten the interaction between them both” (p. 262). Ley lines, and their associated metaphysical connections, is ancestral knowledge.  Not knowledge of a particular people or tribe, but knowledge that all humans once had.  This is the deepest kind of ancestral knowledge, the kind that cannot be fully eradicated by a disenchanted world.

 

We all know of the sacredness of the land, in some way, even if our conscious mind in its disenchanted cultural conditioning disallows such knowledge. We know, subconsciously, of the magic woven into the fabric of the land by countless generations of human ancestors that came before us. Even today, people would rather look out their window at a forest than a busy street. People “vacate” to natural places, to hear the rhythmic crash of the waves or the splendor of the mighty waterfall, to feel themselves being restored and renewed. It’s why natural wonders of the world have millions of tourists each year coming to witness their splendor.  It is why, when I spend time in the old growth hemlock grove that is such a rare and wonderful place, hikers go silent upon entering.  This knowledge may have been largely forgotten of in the conscious mind, but it is still present with us in our blood, in our bones, in our spirits.  The ancestors whisper–it is time for re-enchanting our land.  It is time for us to understand, sense, and create the subtle flows of energy upon the landscape.

 

Our ancestors have left us a roadmap–a roadmap that I’ve been working to share over the last few posts. This roadmap is clear: there is magic and sacredness in the landscape, and we can connect sacred points within it, over short or long distances, with both physical and energetic means.

 

And so,  ancient people wove physical and metaphysical aspects of the sacred into their landscapes through stones, through songs, and through sacred sites.  The question is, what will we create? What will we do? What does our re-enchanted world look like? How do we, as individuals, as groups, as humans, take up this work again?

 

On Being an American Druid November 26, 2017

The quintessential image of a druid is a group of people, all in white robes, performing ritual inside an ancient circle of stones.  This image is probably the most known and pervasive of all visuzaliations of druidry, and for many, it shapes the our perceptions of what druidry should be. But taken in a North American context, this image presents two problems.  First, we have no such ancient stone circles and two, another group has already claimed the quitessential white robe, and its not a group with which we want to associate our tradition.  This kind of tension, along with many other unique features of our landscape, make being an American druid inherently different than a druid located somewhere else in the world.  In the case of any spiritual practice, context matters, and context shapes so much of the daily pracice and work.    And so today, I’m going to answer the questions: What does it mean to be an American druid? What strengths do we have? What challenges do we face?

 

Stone Circle

Stone Circle

For this discussion, I am drawing upon many sources: my work as the Archdruid of Water in the Ancient Order of Druids in America (AODA), an American-Based Druid order, where I mentor druids and develop our curriculum; my experiences as a long-term member of the East Coast community of OBOD Druids (which now has two gatherings near where I live, ECG and MAGUS); and finally, many of the conversations and comments on this blog.

 

Key Differences

I want to set up, first, some key differences between the North American and UK contexts to help frame my overall discussion. In the UK, druids practice a religion that is inspired by their their ancestors who lived on that same soil. In the US and Canada, nearly everyone who lives here is the result of colonialization, where the Native Peoples were killed, forcefully removed, and their lands stripped from them. Given this tragic history, druids in North American have a very different cultural relationship to the land. Further, the United States was founded mostly by radical Christians who were generally quite intolerant of other faiths; this has long-lasting implications for the acceptance of non-abrahamic religious practices. North America also has considerable ecological diversity as it spans a much wider space (not to mention, druids are much more spread out!) Given radical differences in the contexts in which we practice druidry, it makes sense that American Druidry looks inherently different than British Druidry. Our changing context changes everything: our symbolism, our interaction with the land and her spirits, the way we think about sacred sites;  our relationship to our own history; our place in our own culture; and more.  Let’s look at some of those differences and think now about how druids can, and do, respond.

 

 

Dana's Wheel of the Seasons

Dana’s Wheel of the Seasons

Ecology and Symbolism

North America is a massive continent with an incredibly wide range of diverse ecosystems and a single “one size fits all” approach simply isn’t going to work here.  The diversity is, of coures, a blessing: we can experience many different ecosystems and climates by simply taking a quick trip somewhere new.  But the diversity is also a challenge for us, particularly in connecting to traditional symbolism. The druid tradition draws upon things like the Ogham (a set of sacred trees located on the British Isles) and traditional sacred animals (such as the Salmon, Stag, Bear, and Hawk).  Talking about four sacred animals (that don’t live in all parts of the US) or even thinking about holidays based on a certain timing wheel of the year based on certain seasonal changes, is simply not relevant to druids living in diverse ecosystems. Rather, druids here developing adaptations: their own unique druidries.  This prompted me to write about ecoregional adaptations of druidry through a re-envisioning of the wheel of the year through a local ecological approach, considering the role of localized symbolism, and considering the role of rituals, observances, and activities in this localizing practices. Other “traditional” druid herbs, trees, and so on simply don’t fit for a lot of the ecology in the US. Where I live in Western Pennsylvania, mistletoe doesn’t grow on oak, blackthorn doesn’t exist, and I’ve never seen wild heather. But I do have maple, sassafrass, spicebush, witch hazel, and so many amazing plant allies that I’m getting to know–and I’m thankful for the opportunity!

 

Spirits of the Land and Ancestors

Another key difference with the land has to do with the ancestors. On one hand, the native peoples who had such a deep spiritual connection to the land are largely no longer present and those that are present are struggling to keep what remains of their own ecological knowledge, rituals, and practices.  This information is largely not available to others outside of their communities, and out of respect, it shouldn’t be. This presents problems not only with ovate and ecological studies of plants and herbs, but also, challenges in connecting to the land spiritually. I’ve had many druids tell me that they had difficulty connecting to certain pieces of land, that the land and her spirits were “closed off” to them, and so on. We can only rectify this situation over a long period of time and through working on this land, healing it, connecting with it, and learning about it.  In other words, we have a lot of work to do, and taking up this work is a great honor and a great challenge.  But we are in a unique position to do so–to work to heal those wounds, as best we can, with time, courage, compassion and will.

 

Another ancestral challenge is the legacy of many non-native ancestors. For some of us, like myself, my ancestors were directly involved in the pillaging of the abundant resources of Pennsylvania in the name of “progress” to build up American industry. The forests were cut down, the streams were poisoned from mine runoff, the cities grew clouds of smoke and smog, you name it. I talked about in my “Coming Home” post from a while ago. This is, of course, still very much occurring, and again, offers us challenges with connecting to the land–not only do we not have an ancestral tradition of nature-based spirutality on this soil, but we have an ancestral tradtion of taking from the land and stripping it bare.  Again, I see this as a tremendous opportunity for healing work to be done.  We can choose to continue in this ancestral legacy, or we can step aside from it and take a new path.  The practice of permauclture design offers us tremendous tools for regenerating land, healing ecosystems, and honoring soil–we can show the spirits here that we are inherently different than that previous legacy that was left.  And this is very exciting work.

Sacred Spaces

Earlier this year, I had written quite a bit on establishing sacred spaces as an “American” challenge because of the history of colonization and genocide (and I think that other non-UK druids living in former British Colonies face similar challenges).  You can’t just walk or drive to your nearest ancient stone circle, raise some energy, and feel all druid-like here in the states.  In reading OBOD’s coursework, particularly the Ovate grade, so much of OBOD druidry focuses on connecting to stones, connecting to those ancient sites, and it leaves a lot of North American druids scratching their heads and saying…hmm.  What do I do?

 

Again, the problem is the solution. One of the things that a lot of us are are doing is working to establish our own sacred spaces. I’ve written about this numerous times over many years on this blog in different ways. On a personal level, we might consider how we create stone cairns, creating stone circles and other permanent outdoor sacred spaces, creating various shrines to butterfly/bee sanctuaries to full blown establishing sacred land. And of course, there are also the larger group projects, like raising stones with 200 people at Stones Rising! This is all to say–yes, we need our own sacred spaces here in North America, and yes, we  rising to the challenge and building them. I think this puts us in an inherently different kind of space with our druidry here: we are literally building it with our hands, hearts, and spirits. We are working to connect to this land, as her current people/inhabitants, and honor both the land and those that came before by seeing our land as inherently sacred.  And someday, we will be those ancestors who built the stone circles that others will come and celebrate in.

Healing the land...

Healing the land…

History and Culture

Another key difference between American druidry and the druidry of other places is cultural.  I see this in at least two ways.  First, there is the issue of broader cultural acceptance. I remember conversation between John Michael Greer and Philip Carr Gomm at OBOD East Coast Gathering  in 2012 about the how druidry in the UK vs. the US we percieved (this was archived on Druidcast in Episodes 68 and 69). Those of us listening were absolutely floored to hear Philip describe a story of a town was going to put a highway in, and they brought in a “local druid” to consult about its energetic impact on the land. This would never happen in a million years anywhere in the United States. And in fact, a lot of druids have to remain completely secretive about their spiritual practices, their holidays, not only at work but also with their own families. This issue, and seeing so many struggle with this here in the US, prompted my two-part series on being your authentic self, particularly, for those who aren’t able to be in the open (path of the moon) and those that are working towards more openness (path of the sun).

 

The second cultural issue goes back to that quintessential image of the white-robed druids inside the standing stones.  In the US, images of white-robed people in the forest at night lead to only one conclusion: the Ku Klux Klan. Many American druids express discomfort, heavily modify their white robes, or, simply refuse to wear white robes at all.  At least one American-based druid order, the AODA, is moving away from white robes entirely given the cultural climate present in the US.  And I see this is a good thing–I see it as a direct confrontation to the pervasive racicsim and intolerance in our culture.

A Way Forward

What I hope this post has described is that Druidry in the Americas is inherently different than in other places in the world.  These differences aren’t detrimental or problems, they are simply differences. I think that American druids have an incredible opportunity: we are building a tradition for ourselves, here, rooted in this place and in this time. We are building our tribe, our relationships with the living earth, our sense of identity, our own sacred spaces.  We are reconnecting with the knowledge of all of our ancestors–of our land, of our tradition, and of our blood.  We embrace challenges for what they are–opportunities–and make the most of those opportunities through our own creativity and enthusiasm!

 

Towards that end, we might think about some of the key work before us as American druids:

  1. Developing eco-regional druidries that fit our ecology, seasons, and local cultural traditions
  2. Developing a deep understanding of the local plants, animals, and trees that inhabit our  landscapes: their roles in the ecosystem, their medicine, their uses, their magic
  3. Honoring the previous ancestors of the land and working to keep the legacy of tending the land alive
  4. Thinking about druidry as inter-generational and helping to build the “next generation” of druidry
  5. Offering energetic healing to the land and acknowledgment of what has come before
  6. Learning how to directly heal and tend the land and bring it back into healthy production
  7. Building our own sacred sites and energetic networks
  8. Enjoying and embracing the ecological diversity that makes this land outstanding

I think there is more than this, but this is certainly a start!