The Druid's Garden

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

A Druid’s Anchor Spot November 12, 2017

Current statistics from the United States EPA suggest that Americans spend almost not amount of time outside: the average American now spends 93% of their total time enclosed (including 87% of their lives indoors and 6% enclosed in automobiles). A UK-based survey indicated that children now spend less than 30 minutes or less outside and 20% of children don’t spend any time outdoors on an average day (which is less time than prisoners spend outside per day). I think that the reason that a lot of people find druidry is because of statistics like these: increasing work and life demands make it harder to get outside, increased urban sprawl makes it harder to find “wild spaces”, and our relationship with nature is at a deficit that has implications for our health, happiness, and well being.

 

If (re)connection with nature is a clear goal for those on the druid path and those on related nature-based paths, then it seems that one of the most important things we can do is get outside and spend quality time with nature. But we druids know that not all time spent outdoors is the same. The above surveys aren’t even looking at specific activities tied to nature or quality time in nature, simply the minutes spent outdoors. Riding your lawnmower (which I suspect accounts for a good portion of outdoor time for many people) is not the same as quietly observing and interacting in a natural setting, nor will it give the same spiritual, health, or emotional benefits. There are, of course, lots of ways we might seek connection with nature. Today, I’m going to suggest one strategy that I’m calling the “Druid’s Anchor Spot.”

 

What is the Druid’s Anchor Spot?

My new Druid Anchor Spot!

My new Druid Anchor Spot!

The Druid’s Anchor Spot is is an outdoor place that is easily accessible to you in all weather where you can deeply connect with the living earth through observation, focus, and interaction. The Anchor Spot is as the name intends: it is a regular focus or “anchor” to nature and can be used as one of the key components of your growing spiritual connection with nature. Seems simple enough, right? Yes, it is. The rest of this post will share how to find your Anchor Spot and make the most of it.

 

In order to find your perfect anchor spot, there are at least four considerations:

 

Accessibility. Your Druid’s Anchor Spot should be very easily accessible by you as part of your normal patterns in the day. Perhaps this is a stone by a stream behind your house, an edge area “overgrown” on your walk to work, a butterfly garden in your own backyard, the tree line outside of your workplace that you can visit on your breaks, a stone circle you build in the woods. Wherever it is, you should be able to easily access it several times a week.

 

Quietude. The second consideration is that you should be able to go to your anchor spot and be relatively undisturbed as much as possible (for those with families and in urban environments, this may be more tricky). For children, helping establish a “family anchor spot” is a great activity that can encourage connection with nature with the whole family, but you will still want to have time alone in nature at your anchor spot when possible.

 

An Ecosystem. Third, if at all possible, you want your spot to have some wildness to it or to have an ecosystem beyond a lawn, somewhere that nature has been allowed to grow and thrive. In other words, you are looking for a place that is not a monoculture but a polyculture. The more “natural” and diverse the spot is, the more you’ll have a chance to interact with many different species and grow in your own connection with the land. Lawns do have a bit of life in them, but not much comparably speaking. If you had a choice between a wild hedge on the edge of a field and a lawn, the wild hedge is a much better choice.

So much life to see and find in nature!

So much life to see and find in nature!

A Spirit Welcome. Finally, I think its important to be in a place where the spirits of the land are happy and want you there. Some places don’t have the right feel, you might not feel welcome or the spirits want left alone.  This is not ideal for your sit spot.  This is something you feel out intuitively. You might use some of the strategies outlined in my last post or in my two druid tree working posts on tree communication for help as to how to ascertain if you are welcome and if this will be a place of mutual healing and growth.

 

Visiting Your Anchor Spot

After you select your anchor spot, try to visit it often, preferably every day. Part of the Anchor Spot’s magic is that you get to see the same spot in all kinds of weather, seasons, and conditions.  Because of this, to do this activity, consider committing to regularly coming to your anchor spot for a full cycle of the sun-that is, a full year year. A lot of people don’t like to go out in anything but sunny weather, but with the anchor spot, I’d encourage you to go see it in different kinds of weather. Look at it during a storm, look at it in the morning, observe it in the night, sit with it in the snow (if you get snow). Nature is such a dynamic experience that every moment—every day—will offer you something new. The idea here is to see this spot, in all of her seasons, in all of her faces.

 

What to do at your Anchor Spot

Now that we’ve established what the Anchor Spot is, how to choose a spot, and how often to visit, we’ll explore what you can do at your anchor spot.

 

Honoring the Land and the Spirits

Your druid’s anchor spot is going to teach you so much over a period of time, and it is always a good idea to give back. I would suggest making a simple offering for the land and the spirits before you begin any of your anchor spot work, and at regular intervals. Leaving a simple offering, for example, to show appreciation to the living earth is certainly one possibility (I advocate for liquid gold offerings as they offer nitrogen directly to the plants, but I’m a bit weird). Building a small shrine (even something as simple as three stacked stones) or tying a ribbon around a tree is another great way to make a simple offering, to designate this spot as something very sacred. You can also do various kinds of energetic work (light body from OBOD, Sphere of Protection from AODA).

 

Observation

You can observe in a variety of different ways in your Anchor Spot. All of these observations are are meditative in nature—in this case, quieting your mind and simply letting nature fill it with her own richness.

 

Sensory Observation.  Observation and interaction in nature are some of the foundational building blocks to a spiritual connection with the living earth. Observation can offer us a sense of curiosity and wonder about the living earth, and, in so doing, cultivate a deeper connection with the land. Even within a tiny patch of land like your Druid’s Anchor Spot, there is a tremendous amount to know and discover. And because nature is dynamic, each day brings changes, each season offers new experiences, and much can be gained from this process. Breathe deeply, feel the land beneath you and under your fingertips, observe all that you can. Use not only your eyes for this work but your other senses are appropriate: touch, smell, taste, and hearing.

 

Focus. A second way of observing the land around you is by focusing in on the minute details of something. For this, you might choose a single leaf, a single flower, a single small drip or eddy of a stream—whatever catches your eye. And for the next 10-15 minutes, you simply observe it, carefully. Pay attention to the growth habits of the leaf, the complexity of the flower, the interplay of light and color. Also as part of your focus work, engage in your other senses—pay attention to smell, touch, and if appropriate, taste. Each of our 5 senses has something to offer us in terms of learning about nature. The first time I did this focus activity, I spent about 20 minutes with an all heal flower (Prunella Vulgaris) also known as wound wort or heart of the earth. I smelled it, paid attention to which of the blooms was emerging, nibbled on it (as I know it is edible and medicinal) and looked at its growth pattern. By the end of those 20 minutes, I really knew that plant in ways I hadn’t before—just because of the sensory experience.  And so you can do this: zero in on a particular part of the ecosystem in your sit spot—a single flower, a leaf, or a plant ,and observe the details of that plant for a period of time. This work can be greatly aided by bringing a Loupe (a Jeweler’s Loupe, which is a small magnifiying glass).  If you do this with various plant, insect, and fungal life in your sit spot, soon, everything there will be like an old friend to you.

 

Stillness, Melding, and Meditation

Stillness and Melding. When you visit, spend a good portion of your time in stillness—simply sit and be present with the land around you. Be quiet, don’t move, just simply be. Take it all in. The Anchor Spot technique asks us to slow down and be present with the land, to reduce our pace to the pace of nature. You can further this by working to blend in, to become one with the land, a full part and participant. I call this “melding.” You become part of the landscape rather than separate from it.

 

Melding is critically important to see animal life. Humans are often very noisy, and when you spend all of your time walking or hiking through the wilds, certain animals or birds signal a warning and everyone else that is there goes into hiding. When you sit still for 20 or so min, you blend in and you will have a chance to see a lot more animal activity. The more that you are able to meld with this spot, the more that the land—and her many creatures—will open up to you. Both because they will become used to your presence, but also, because in sitting still and quiet, you become part of the land rather than simply traveling through it.

 

For example, I remember the time a vision quest where I was sitting against a tree in stillness and worked to meld, and had been doing so for about an hour, and it was getting dark (dusk and dawn are great times to see animal movements). And I heard this rustling on the forest floor: it was a huge flock of wild turkeys. They never saw me, and I had this amazing opportunity to observe them for almost a half an hour—I saw their tom turkey, the pecking order, the foraging behavior, their communication with each other, and so on. If I had been walking through the woods, I never would have had that experience because they would have ran away.  But sitting next to the tree, the turkeys walked right by me and never even noticed I was there. Practice blending into the anchor spot, being part of it in the quiet way that animals and plants do. Recognize that you, too, are an animal here in this ecosystem.

 

Close observation of an aster

Close observation of an aster

Nature Meditation. While you are in your druid anchor spot, this is also a very appropriate place to do some simple meditation and breathwork. Lots of possibilities exist for this: I like to engage in simple discursive meditation or color breathing (techniques both described in detail by John Michael Greer in The Druidry Handbook).

 

 

Reflection and Study Surrounding Your Anchor Spot

Beyond the above techniques, you may want to engage in any of the following activities that help you deepen and reflect on your interaction with this spot:

 

Anchor Spot Notebook or Photo Journal. You may want to start an Anchor Spot notebook (or keep your observations recorded in your druid’s notebook or spiritual journal). Documenting nature through sketching and writing observations is a time-honored human tradition to learn more about the living earth. For example The Forest Unseen: A Year’s Watch in Nature by David George Haskell describes a biologist’s observations of a square meter in old growth forest for a year. Your notebook will help you keep track of what you are seeing over a period of time and gain deep insights about the land and her inhabitants. These simple observations often lead to profound truths and understandings. You could write about it, sketch, take photographs, and so on to help develop your understanding of this space.

 

Learning about Nature. Another activity that is a great one for your anchor spot is to work on identifying some of the life you observe there. Field guides for trees, plants, insects, birds and mushrooms are all readily available for most bioregions. Animal droppings or animal track guides are also useful for this purpose. Bring your guide with you and spend some time seeing what you can learn about the names and ecology of the life in your sit spot. If you want to take it a step further, learn what human uses these plants once had (medicinal, edible, crafting, and so on). Identify any trees that are there and learn about their woods and what they are used for. Identify the composition of the soil, of the rocks, of the geology present. Listen for bird calls and learn how to identify them. Identify any animal tracks or droppings that you see present. Learning about all of nature can be very challenging, but taking a small slice and zeroing in on it in your sit spot is very useful.

 

Nature's cycles - mushrooms even grow in the winter months and are fun to see in your anchor spot

Nature’s cycles – mushrooms even grow in the winter months and are fun to see in your anchor spot

Conclusion

While the Anchor Spot seems like a very simple practice, it can profoundly and powerfully shape your connection to the living earth. You will learn a tremendous amount about the world around you and be much more intimately connected to the fabric of the landscape. Further, rooted in the idea of the Anchor Spot as I have presented it is the assertion that the more you know about nature and the more you are able to connect with her, the deeper your connection to nature will be. This opens up possibilities not only for your deepening connection with the living earth, but the kind of magic, healing, and regeneration you can work with her.   If you decide to use this technique–or already do–please share in the comments! 

 

* Note: This idea comes from two places, and I want to acknowledge them here.  First, it is inspired by the Wilderness Awareness School’s “sit spot”. Second, it has arisen from the many conversations I’ve had with druids—this seems to be a natural practice that evolves over time for many.

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An Introduction to Druidry October 8, 2017

Two weeks ago, I was asked to speak at our local UU Church (First Unitarian Universalist Church of Indiana, PA) on the druid tradition.  Of course, given the diversity of the druid tradition and the perpetual challenge in answering the question “What do druids believe?” it took some time to sort out what I wanted to say.  I thought I might share these thoughts here as a good introduction to the druid path for those wanting to know more and/or as a resource to share with non-druids.

 

Hemlock Healing

Hemlock Healing

I grew up in the beautiful Laurel Highlands region of Western PA. As a child, I spent every free hour in the forest behind my house, building cabins, exploring, and talking with trees. When I was fourteen, the forest was logged, and my heart broke. For weeks, the grind of the chainsaw was in the air, and I suffered as the forest suffered, my own pain and past trauma welling up within me. I went down into the forest after it was over, to see which of my tree friends had remained–and it seemed like almost nobody had survived. It was so heartbreaking, I ended up not returning to the forest for many years.  Almost a decade later, a friend who was dying of cancer insisted I return with him to that forest—and so we did.  A miracle had occurred. No doubt, the forest was still full of downed trees and brush, but the way was passable, and the land had done tremendous healing. That step, back into the forest, and seeing the healing present, was the first formal step I took on the druid path, a path I’ve now been walking for over decade.

 

Druidry today has both ancient and modern roots.  The tradition is inspired by the ancient Druids, wise sages who kept history, traditions, and guided the spiritual life of their people. The ancient Druids had three branches of study: the bard (a keeper of history, stories, and songs), the ovate (a sage of nature or shaman), and the druid (the keeper of the traditions, leader of spiritual practices, and keeper of the law). Much of what we know about the Ancient Druids today comes through their surviving legends, stories, mythology, and the writings of Roman authors: the druids themselves had a prohibition against writing anything down that was sacred, and so, we have only fragments. But fragments cannot be a full spiritual tradition.

 

In the period between 1700 and 1800, radical changes were happening in the British Isles, here in the USA, and across much of the western world. The rise of industrialization shifted many relationships between humans and the land. Farmers and peasants who had lived, sustained, and tended the land for countless generations were driven from their homes to work in factories. My spiritual ancestors, those associated with what we now call the “Druid Revival” watched this scene unfolding: the land stripped of her resources for industrialization and progress; the growing emphasis on produced goods over communities; the rampant pollution and exploitation industrialization was creating; the relegating of humans, animals, and the land to a resource for extraction, a machine.  The importance of balance and nurturing the land was quickly being replaced by the ideas of infinite growth at any cost and exploitation. It was during this time that those that founded the druid tradition reached deeply–and creatively–into their own history to the ancient druids, to a time when humans and nature were more connected.  And thus, the beginnings of my tradition, “Druid Revival” was born.

 

A river in the PA Wilds region--once a site of logging, now a site of regrowth

A river in the PA Wilds region–once a site of logging, now a site of regrowth

Industrialization, with so much promise at the time, continues to cause considerable pain to our earth and our human communities—and certainly each community and person experiences this in extreme ways.

 

It is in this seeking of reconnection to nature that we can see how for two and a half centuries, modern druidry is a human spiritual response to the larger wheels of industrialization that have been thrust upon us in the Western world.

 

The ecological crisis is a spiritual crisis as much as it is a crisis of culture. Druidry is us finding our way “home”; back into deep connection with the living earth.  Many people today are drawn to the druid tradition there is “something” missing for them and it is that connection to nature.

 

Like the ancients, the modern druid tradition still recognizes the three divisions in druidry, and each druid embodies aspects of each of the paths of the bard, ovate, and druid.  So, now that we’ve talked about the history of this tradition, I’d like to share information on each of these paths.

 

The first path of druidry is the Druid Path which focuses on dedication, magic, and mystery.

In druidry, nature is our sacred text, and each druid’s relationship and interaction with nature is different–we live in different ecosystems and climates, we are engaged in different kinds of work with the land, we have different cycles and seasons. Because of this, the druid revival tradition recognizes and cultivates the development of a personal spiritual path, and in the druid tradition, these differences are encouraged rather than minimized. In this way, revival druidry has a very similar philosophy to the Unitarian Universalists – belief is an individual choice. Being a druid doesn’t mean you can’t also hold Christian, a Buddhist, a UU, Pagan, or Atheist perspectives. Some of us are simply druids, and many of us are on a pagan path, but we have plenty of others who combine druidry with other things, like Christianity or Hinduism. All are celebrated.

 

Nature

Nature

Of course, in the druid tradition, we have common frameworks inspired by our spiritual ancestors. I belong to two druid orders: the Order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids (OBOD), which is based in the UK and is the largest druid organization in the world, and the Ancient Order of Druids in America (or AODA), in which I currently serve in a leadership capacity and is focused on North American druidry. In AODA, for example, we have a common set of practices and a three part study program that people can engage in to spiritually connect with nature. These practices include celebrating the solstices and equinoxes, working a daily energetic practice called sphere of protection, engaging in lifestyle changes that honor the earth, planting trees, observing nature, daily meditation; honoring our ancestors of land, tradition, and blood; and practicing of the druid, ovate, and bardic arts. However, the specific expressions of a particular member’s own inner truth are central to the way in which those practices manifest. In fact, different views of the druid tradition interpret the “druid” path in various ways: the druid path is a path of magic, a study of the esoteric arts, a path of advanced practices, and/or a path of leadership.

 

In other words, if you ask five different druids about their beliefs and spiritual path, you’ll likely get seven different answers. But inherent in each of those answers would be an acknowledgement of the sacredness of nature, the power of nature to teach us the deepest lessons, and the importance of reconnection with nature, our creativity, and our spirit.

 

The second path of Druidry is the Path of the Ovate, which focuses on the sacredness of nature.

When people ask what druidry is about, the first thing I share is that it is a path of nature spirituality, that it embraces relationship to nature at its core, and that it honors nature through various activity (like seasonal celebrations of the solstices and equinoxes, nature awareness, and ecological study). And yet, an individual druid’s relationship towards nature is multifaceted: we see nature as sacred, it is our source of wisdom, our sacred text, and our church/sacred space.

 

We recognize that in order to treat nature as sacred, we must align ourselves with nature and her cycles. For us, druidry is a path we strive to walk in each moment and each day, and we work to align our inner truths with our outer actions. We focus on healing the relationship between ourselves and the living earth (and each of us does this in our own way; you might note the number of plant walks I do for charitable causes each year—this is part of my own work on the ovate path). The more that we, as druids, understand the living earth, the more we are able to reconnect with her, but also, to protect and heal what we hold sacred.

 

Another part of the ovate path isn’t just learning about nature and honoring her, but recognizing the inherent role in humans have tending to nature. Many druids find themselves connecting their spiritual life to outer physical practices that give them tools to work with nature. I, for example, practice permaculture, which is a nature-oriented design system that offers me tools to regenerate damaged ecosystems and rather than focus on doing “less harm”, I focus on doing “more good.”

 

Worlds within and without!

Worlds within and without!  Moshashannon State Forst in PA.

Part of the ovate work is the energetic work we do with nature—for example, fracking wells are present throughout the world. Each year, at certain points, druids and other like-minded folks organize to send healing energy to the earth surrounding fracking. We recognize that even if we are physically unable to heal the land, we can energetically support it (much as the practice of Reiki supports a sick person). This practice aligns with a truth known in the druid tradition: as above, so below. As within, so without.

 

Writing in the early 20th century, Max Weber, a strong supporter of capitalism and industrialization, wrote that the world had been disenchanted. Druids, however, know that this is not the case: despite the many imbalances caused by humans in our age and in recent ages past, nature has not lost her magic. Druids see the land as not only a physical thing but a metaphysical thing.  Most druids believe in animistic views of the land, recognizing the soul or spirit in all living things (and often, in places as well). We have experienced, firsthand, the sacredness of the living earth, and it is a powerful thing.

 

The third path of druidry is the Path of the Bard, where Creativity is Sacred.

As the story of Taliesin in the Mabinogion describes, an emphasis on rekindling of our creative gifts is another central aspect of the druid tradition. It is our belief that a core birthright of humanity is to be able to use our bodies, minds, hands, and hearts for creative expression.

 

In fact, one of the core symbols of revival druidry, and a term we chant in our rituals, is “Awen” (Welsh term pronounced “ah-wen” or chanted “Ah-Oh-En”). It was “Awen” that flowed through the ancient bards as they crafted their stories and songs; it was this same awen that flowed through Gwion who became Taliesin. It is Awen that flows from an inspired pen, hand, and body as we learn to once again express ourselves and be whole. It is the “Awen” that has been systematically stripped from us as we allow other people’s commercialized creations to take the place of our own.  And it is the inspiration of Awen we seek as we reconnect with our own creative gifts and expressions and reclaim them.

 

At our gatherings, you will often see an Eisteddfod, or bardic circle, where we share stories, songs, music, poetry, dance, and more while we sit around a roaring fire.  Image it—a hundred druids or more gathered to appreciate and honor our creative gifts. In sum, the third path of druidry is in rekindling our own creative inspiration and recognize the inherent sacredness of our creative work.

 

Concluding thoughts

Stump with reishi growing!

Stump with reishi growing!

Let’s return to the forest of my childhood for just a moment. When I walk in that forest now, my studies in the ovate arts have helped me to understand the landscape: I can see the changes in the ecosystem based on different microclimates, I know the names and uses of many of the plants and trees. However, my years of mediation and energy work also allows me to sense the spirit of things; I can hear the laughter of the creek as it cascades down the blackened stones, and I can hear the message in the creak of the two old trees rubbing together. I come to the ancient Eastern Hemlock stumps that once were my friends and now are gracefully returning to soil, covered and moss and bright red shelf mushrooms. A closer look reveals that these stumps are growing Ganoderma Tsugae, the hemlock reishi, one of the most medicinal mushrooms in the world.

 

Nature’s response to the logging of the forest by human hands was a simple one: to regrow, to heal, and offer humans her own sacred medicine. In a time very soon, the forest may be logged again.  But even if that were to happen, nature will heal.  And in the process of that healing, she will welcome us into her sacred places, into her circle of stones and trees, with open arms.

 

 

PS: I have been selected as the OBOD’s 2018 Mount Haemus scholar and am currently working on a research project about the bardic arts (tied to the learning research I do professionally). I am conducing a short survey to start the project off–if you are willing, I would very much appreciate it if you took my survey!  The link can be found here.

 

Ecoregional Druidry: Adapting and Localizing Symbolism October 2, 2017

To follow up from two posts a month or so ago on ecoregional druidry and the wheel of the year  and celebrating rituals, observances, and activities, I want to continue thinking about how druids can adapt basic practices of druidry to their local ecosystems.  This is particularly important for those of us in diverse ecosystems around the world: part of nature spirituality is being with nature as she is in your region. Thus far in this series, we’ve explored a druid’s wheel of the year that is seasonally-focused on a local ecosystem as well as the different ways we might celebrate this wheel of the year with rituals, observances, and activities.  Also tied to these spiritual practices are symbolism associated with the elements and directions; framing symbolism that weaves its way into our practices in a variety of different contexts. And so, in this post, we’ll delve into thinking about basic symbolism we use in the druid tradition and how we might adapt that based on an ecoregional approach.

 

What is symbolism? What does it do for us?

Before I get into why we might adapt symbolism and reasons to do so, I want to talk about what symbolism is in its basic form.  Catherine Bell, who did some of the most important scholarly work surrounding ritual in the 20th century, suggested that ritual practices connect people to archtypical or universal acts, attitudes, structures, or functions.  Symbols, within ritual, work like “a language for the primary purpose of communication” (61); in other words, symbols convey meaning to people who use them, and that meaning should be tied to the broader context.

 

The challenge, of course, comes in balancing individual needs and practices with those of the broader community.  This is a choice that each of us have to make–by moving further away from the traditional symbolism, it may be harder to align with larger community values.  If you are a solo practitioner, this may not be an issue for you.  But if you plan on running a grove or attending gatherings, it certainly may be.  Finding ways of developing a shared vision of what your ecoregional druidry looks like is in part, a negotiation with any others you might be practicing with.

 

Traditional Symbolism

Elemental Wheel with Traditional Animal Symbols

Elemental Wheel with Traditional Animal Symbols

The druid revival tradition draws upon symbolism adapted from the sacred animals and trees of the British Isles.  These symbols are typically as follows:

  • North / Great Bear / Earth
  • East / Hawk of May / Air
  • South / White Stag / Fire
  • West / Salmon of Wisdom / Water

In AODA, we add a few more into the mix (for detailed descriptions on these, you can visit this post):

  • Spirit above / Solar Current
  • Spirit below / Telluric Current
  • Spirit within / Lunar Current

You might also choose to expand the four directions to eight, but they don’t typically include animals.  Recently, at the OBOD East Coast Gathering, the Mystic River Grove added other animals: moose, skunk, turkey vulture, and turtle.

  • North East
  • North West
  • South East
  • South West

The traditional associations of the directions are used in all sorts of ritualized ways (both in OBOD and AODA) including in opening rituals and protective workings.  Because they are so pervasive and such an important part of the tradition, I personally believe that resonating deeply with these symbols is critical. So let’s take a look at how we might adapt any one of these symbols and what is gained–and lost–from doing so.  We’ll also explore adding in new symbolism or alternative symbolism.

 

Localizing Ritual Symbolism and Ecology

In the druid tradition, adaptation of the basic symbolism to your local ecoregion is not only common, it is encouraged.  Part of living with the land is drawing upon the animals, plants, and energies present immediately in that land that speak to you.

 

Beautiful Rooster can hold the east!

Beautiful Rooster can hold the east!

Elements and directions. The elements and their directions are specific to the druid path and other Western Esoteric circles. These associations are widely used by many, and in groups, give people some cohesion and consistency. Generally, I think these associations aren’t worth changing in most circumstances, especially if you are planning on working with others, but there is one instance that comes to mind where you might change them. This comes when you have a powerful elemental force in a different location such as a huge body of water in the east, a mountain in the south, and so on.  I have found it is helpful to “feel out” where the strongest force of the element is and use that if you feel that strong pull or are particularly sensitive to it. When I moved to the Great Lakes Region, for example, water was all around me, but I would often accidentally call water in the East because Lake Huron was closest to me and I was connected with the Lady of the Lake. Eventually, I solved the problem by connecting to a lake that was much closer to me (and much smaller) in the west so that I could keep my traditional associations (which I really wanted to do).

 

Animals. Druids in diverse ecosystems may find that the traditional animals may need to be reconsidered.  This is for any number of reasons: perhaps the animals are not found in the ecosystem, perhaps the druid has no connection with the traditional animals, or perhaps the druid doesn’t have a good connection with that animal.  Some choose to use the traditional animal symbols from the druid revival as well as their own additions in the cross quarters (or may have several sets of symbols depending on the location). Again, careful observation of nature, combined with looking for animal signs and seeing what speaks to you, is a useful practice.

 

In my case, even though three of the four animals are present in my ecosystem (hawk, bear, stag), I have substituted the salmon for a rainbow trout, painted turtle, or river otter.  The river otter is a particularly powerful symbol for me here in Western PA because otter was lost to our rivers and only in the last two decades has been reintroduced and is making a comeback–and as a kayaker, I see them regularly on my trips.  This is a powerful symbol of regeneration that I have experienced firsthand and is something I want to draw upon. When I was in Michigan, I had painted turtles and snapping turtles on my property near the sacred space, so they were what I called in the west.

 

On my land in Michigan, I did have hawks, but I didn’t want them too close (as the hawk would come eat my chickens regularly). So rather than calling in that energy, I called the energy of the “Rooster crowing up the sun” in the east, the energy directly on my property.  I would also sometimes call the Raccoon in the north, since the Bears were so rare in that area as it was more heavily populated.  This felt right and powerful; I was honoring the animals that were immediately present in my ecosystem (and trying to keep away predators that would do my flock harm).

 

Bees

Bees

Since I work a lot with AODA’s symbolism that includes the additional three directions, I also gave animals/birds/insects a place in those three directions as well:

  • Spirit below / the great soil web of life (because it sustains all life and is full of billions of living beings)
  • Spirit above / the white heron (because it was a dominant bird in my region and often flew overhead)
  • Spirit within / the bee of inspiration (because I am a beekeeper and love bees!)

 Spend time in the land around you and see what animals resonate with your own path.

 

Localizing Ritual Symbolism and Folk Culture

Another place you might go for symbolism, rituals, activities, and observances is your own family history or regional history. Look to the folk traditions, find the magic inherent in the landscape, and use that as your symbols, words, phrases, things that resonate. Often, small bits of older traditions (folklore, folk songs, even magical traditions) leave echoes upon the landscape and cultural history, tucked away in old bookstores or even within your own family lore. These powerful symbols may find their way to you unexpectedly and be useful as you are thinking about building your own unique path.

 

For me, a barn-sign tradition was a delightful surprise that offered symbolism that resonates both outward upon my landscape but also in my practice. This is now part of my own druid path, as are some of my grandparents’ Pennsylvania Dutch folk magic traditions, like using the Wooly Bear caterpillar to determine the severity and length of winter. In terms of the Barn Signs, after returning to Western PA, a friend and I were taking a drive through the country when I paid closer attention to the decorations on the barns in Somerset, Bedford, and Cambria counties in PA. Many of these barns were over a century old (one had a date of 1889 on it) and featured certain designs. Out in Eastern PA, they have a different kind of magical barn sign, a more widely known “hex signs” and they are colorful with symmetrical images and pictures painted on a round circle. But in Western PA, the tradition seems to be very different: a (usually) red barn with a white symbol that is cut out and applied to the barn. One of the most amazing had two decorative pentacles surrounded by a pentagram: very clearly a magical sign. I’ve worked some of these, as well as the “country” tradition of using the pentacle everywhere on houses, as one of my primary protective symbols.

Magical Barn sign in Somerset County

Magical Barn sign in Somerset County

Magical Barn sign in Somerset County

Magical Barn sign in Somerset County

Moving Beyond Tradition

You don’t need to stick just with animals or directions for symbolism that you can use to tie to your druid practice.  For example, other symbolism tied to the four (or seven) directions might also be useful for you to consider. These might be songs, movements, hand signals, sacred mountains, images, four sacred places, pretty much anything you want that resonates with you.

 

Fresh elderflower

Fresh elderflower

For example, I have a series of healing plants (for healing work) and sacred trees (for my daily practice) that I call regularly when doing daily rituals or other kinds of rituals. These came through developing relationships with the living earth as well as studying herbalism and using my intuition. I have many versions of healing plant correspondences that I’ve developed over the years. A general one of plants that I like and work with a lot for my own healing looks like this (and I absolutely use the 7 directions cause I want to add in more plants!):

  • Earth / Plantain (a wonderful all around healing plant)
  • Air / Stinging Nettle (nervine, tonic)
  • Fire / Goldenrod (anti-inflammatory, among other things)
  • Water / Calamus (water-based root, good for throat and other issues)
  • Above / Elder (immune support, fever)
  • Below / Sassafras (liver tonic)
  • Within / Hawthorn (heart tonic)

One of my versions, specific to cold/flu healing, looks like this:

  • Earth / Reishi mushroom (for immune system support)
  • Air / New England Aster (specific for lungs and air issues)
  • Fire / Bee Balm (for infection fighting)
  • West / Boneset (fever support)
  • Above / Elderflower (for fever support)
  • Below / Burdock (for nutrition for the body)
  • Within / Catnip (for calming)

Sacred Trees or, you could develop a set of symbols based on sacred trees in the Ogham or locally.  One might look like this:

  • Earth / Apple
  • Air / Beech
  • Fire / Cedar
  • Water / Willow
  • Above / White Pine
  • Below / Oak
  • Within / Elder

 

The possibilities for adapting to your local symbolism are endless–it is a joyful process that will put you more in touch with the living earth. I hope that this post has given you some ideas of how you might further adapt your own druid practices to your ecosystem.  I’d love to hear more from you about how you may have done or are thinking about doing of this adaptation work!

 

Ecoregional Druidry and the Wheel of the Year: Rituals, Observances, and Activities September 3, 2017

Abundant crab apples (the first year after we wassailed!)

Abundant crab apples (the first year after we wassailed!)

A group of people gather in an orchard, the snows quietly falling, the cold brisk and clear.  Our voices ring to the heavens, toast is offered to the branches of the tree. We drum, sing, make noise, and scare away any spirits who would seek to harm the orchard’s harvest. We enjoy hot mulled cider and retreat back inside for feasting and community. This is a wassail for the health of the apple trees, an ancient celebration that is now very much part of my yearly wheel of the year (and one that I’ve described in some depth on this blog earlier this year and a few years ago). This is one of many rich traditions that we can engage in in honoring the land and living an earth-based path. In my last post, we explored how druids in various ecosystems might adapt the UK-based wheel of the year (a set of seasonal holidays) to their local ecosystems and cultural norms. Today, we continue this by exploring how to take your ecoregional wheel of the year you are developing and turn it into a set of rituals, observances, and activities.

 

Developing Localized Rituals, Observances, and Activities

After some research and reflection, perhaps you’ve started to put together your own wheel of the year (see my last post) that includes a series of astronomical observances combined with regional and local observances. And you look at your wheel and think, “now what?” The most immediate thing that comes to mind is that you have to do some kind of formal ritual to celebrate, and that is certainly a possibility.  Today, I’d like to suggest that there are at least three ways you can celebrate these events on your wheel of the year: activities, observances, and rituals.  Let’s now consider each of these in turn:

 

Activities

The first thing you can do to celebrate events on your wheel of the year is to engage in various activities that are associated with the event.  Activities are just that: things you can do, with sacred intent, but not necessarily with formalized ritual.  Activities might include outings/trips, arts and crafts, cooking/fermentation, foraging, gardening/planting/harvesting, making things, and so on.  I like to think of these as activities as supporting a larger seasonal observation or marking a minor seasonal occurrence.

 

Basket of freshly made smudges!

Basket of freshly made smudges!

For example, after the first hard frost (which is a minor observance on my wheel of the year), I go and harvest whatever aromatic plants are left that typically get some frost damage my garden: lavender, sage, mugwort, rosemary, thyme, etc..  I also visit some confiers that are my friends (white pine, white cedar, and juniper) and gather some branches.  I then open up a sacred bardic arts grove and make my yearly smudge sticks.

 

In a second example, as part of my Summer Solstice celebratory events, I have a whole routine I typically do that spans several days. This includes being up for sunrise to witness the sunrise on the longest day of the year. Typically, I make at least two different canned goods: an elderflower cordial from fresh elder harvested on the day of the solstice and a strawberry jam with home grown and wild strawberries (also harvested on or near the day of the solstice).  I open up a sacred grove in my kitchen for canning and do the canning as part of my celebration.  I then give these special labels and enjoy these during the winter months and share them with friends who need a bit of the light of summer in their lives.  Further, as part of my summer solstice celebrations, on the day before or day after, I also go out and harvest certain sacred herbs beyond elder such as yarrow and raspberry leaf for my use throughout the year.

 

In sum, a seasonal celebration can be as simple as a special actitivy you do once a year to celebrate the passage of an important moment.  It can be done with friends, loved ones, and family and doesn’t have to be an “overt” druid ritual (so you can quietly celebrate and still enjoy the company of others, even if they are on a very different path).

 

Observances

The second way you might celebrate one of the events on your wheel of the year is what I call an observance. It is less formal than a ritual (which I’ll cover last), but is still a kind of ceremony. I engage in a lot of observances with anything beyond the eight holy days on my druid calendar.  Observances usually do not take place within a formal open grove, but still with an observance you have the sense that you are stepping out of time for a moment or two in order to experience the sacred. An observance might be a moment of silence, making a small offering, chant a few Awens, drinking deeply of the first flow of maple sap, observe a sunrise, coming to a sacred place and saying a few words, reciting a poem, doing a simple divination, walking in nature and looking for messages, and so on.  These are minor things, yet powerful. They can be planned or unplanned.

 

For example, literally in the middle of me drafting this paragraph, a powerful summer thunderstorm came through. I stopped my writing and went out in it for a time, simply to experience its power and beauty, taking in the signts, smells, sounds, and feel of the rain and wind on my skin.  Then, I gathered a bit of the rain in a small bowl and lathed my head with it to keep the awen flowing, then, I came inside and continued to write. This was not a formal ritual, but it was a chance for me to experience the sacredness of the storm, step for a moment out of “normal time” and witness the power of nature.

 

Another such observance takes place with the first snowfall of the year.  During the first snowfall, I get outside as quickly as I can. There, I chant a number of “Awens” and catch at least three snowflakes on my tongue. Even if I am at work, I will go and quietly chant the awens and catch the three snowflakes, sneaking back into the building after visiting our Oak Grove on my campus.

Small Spiral in Snow honoring snowfall

Small Spiral in Snow honoring snowfall

 

A third such observance is when I encounter any place in nature that resonates with me in any setting. I usually carry a bit of home-grown tobacco offering (combined with lavender and rose petals, my favorite) and make a small offering to that place. I might do a full Sphere of Protection (from AODA‘s practice) or Light Body Exercise (from OBOD‘s practice) or sit for a time in reverence and awe at the moment.

 

I visit the forest once a week in the months of April and May to wait for the first blooming of the hawthorn. I have a particular tree that I visit, deep in the forest, that I wait to bloom. Once the buds open, I leave an offering (of home grown tobacco mixed with lavender leaf and rose petal) at the base of the tree.  Then, I create a floral water (by taking a glass bowl of spring water and holding it to the blossom for a few minutes) and then drink the water.  I sit with the tree in silence and honor the return of spring.

 

As the above indicates, many of the minor holidays on my own wheel of the year list are observances that are “in the moment.”  They are simple ways of connecting with what is happening in the broader world, and bringing the sacred to everyday life.

 

Rituals

The final way you might celebrate the turning wheel of the year is the most commonly known and practiced, and that is a formal ritual, wherein you open a sacred space, engage in some series of activities to celebrate the event (including raising or lowering energy, making offerings, reading poetry, and so forth), and then formally closing the space.  I’m going to have a separate post on ritual writing so for now, I’ll offer some basic information.

 

Having a consistent framework from which to do your ritual (which may include words, actions, or activities that are repeated over time) gives your rituals both power and meaning. Usually, this is done through set opening and closing rituals (of which both OBOD and the AODA offer good onesf or solidary or group use). Using a standard opening and closing practice from an established druid order also means that you aren’t going to miss important steps (like energetically sealing a space or releasing energy from that space once you are finished).

 

Eclipse at full strength near our ritual space

Eclipse at full strength near our ritual space

Assuming you have the openings and closings covered, typically what is missing is the “meat” of the ritual–that is, what is it that you are doing to celebrate it?  Consider three things: first, it should respond to the energy of the moment, second, it should be a ritual that serves a specific purpose that you set (your intentions or goals). and finally, it should also be effective and moving for you.

 

As an example, let’s look at a recent eclipse ritual that a few grove members and I did to see some of the building blocks of a celebatory ritual. In designing this ritual, we responded both to the classical interpreation of the eclipse (that it was a dire warning and a negative event) as well as the events of the last few weeks in our human community here in the US, and also our own challenges in the present moment). We opened up a simple sacred space in our permanent sacred grove in the forest as the eclipse grew in strength.  Given the challenges with today’s age, I played the panflute while my two friends worked to draw from the energy sources we had raised and visualized sending light out into the world (countering the growing darkness of the eclipse). Then, we smudged each other and used a lavender hydrosol (floral water). The smudge was to take away any pain and darkness we might be carrying and the lavender was meant to uplift our spirits and bring clarity.  We then closed out the space and basked in the sights and sounds of the eclipse.

 

So in this ritual, we have four parts: an opening, and acknowledging of the event, and two core pieces of work: radiating light into our human community and purification of our own bodies.  This was a successful and impactful ritual because it held meaning and significance for us.  We had no scripts, had simply talked through it in advance.

 

You can do many different things as part of your own rituals.  Most often, the simple things without the elaborate scrips are the most effective and meaningful. Here are some of many possibilities:

  • Reading poetry that is fitting for the holiday (I love a lot of Wendell Berry’s poetry for this)
  • Speaking about the holiday, and reflecting on its energy in your life
  • Raising energy to radiate into the world as healing/light
  • Removing negative energy from ourselves (casting into a fire is a good one) or from the broader land (see my “Land Healing” series for more on how to do this)
  • Meditation
  • Inner journeying
  • Tending a sacred fire
  • Making offerings
  • Consecrating objects with the elements
  • Sacred movement (dance)
  • Sacred music
  • Moving through gateways (particulary at the equinoxes, moving into the dark half of the year)
  • Connecting with the energy of plants/trees through sitting with them, working with them, drinking tea, etc.

In the end, whatever you might do, it is your intention that matters, rather than whether or not you get the words perfect, or it works out just like you hoped it would.  What matters is the heart of it, the feeling, the experience.  If you mess up what you planned, laugh about it and keep going.  These practices are for us, for the land, for the spirits–and no one minds a few mistakes!

 

The Wheel Turns

As you develop your own rituals, activities, and observances for your own wheel of the year, your connection with the living earth and your sense of the sacred will continue to unfold.  Everything, ultimately, should have meaning to you and be rooted in things that give you a sense of the sacred, of significance, and of purpose.  As you develop these activities for your wheel and with each time you do them, your relationship  to the practices  will deepen.  Over time, some practices you setup will fall away and/or be replaced by new practices.  This is the natural evolution of your own spiritual practice.

 

I’ll continue this discussion next week with talking about localizing symbols and other things commonly used in celebrations and ritual activities.

 

Ecoregional Druidry: A Druid’s Wheel of the Year August 27, 2017

In the 1990’s, now Grand Archdruid of the Ancient Order of Druids in America, Gordon Cooper, developed the idea of “wildcrafting your own druidry”; this practice is defined as rooted one’s druid practice in one’s local ecology, history, legends and magic.  In today’s age of adapting and drawing upon many different traditions in the quest for spiritual wholeness, we sometimes forget that all knowledge, regardless of how ancient it is (like the Celtic Tree Alphabet and divination system, the Ogham) was originally developed in a local culture and ecosystem.  Thus, too, I believe our spiritual practice reflect our own local ecologies and ways of understanding.  I’m going to expand on some of Gordon’s ideas here and talk about my own work with “local druidry” or “ecoregional druidry” and how to put some of this into practice to create a “druid’s wheel of the year” that is specific to your local ecology and customs.  While I’m using druidry as an example here, anyone who is following a nature-based spiritual path and using the wheel of the year as their structure of holidays would benefit from such information.

 

Dividing Up the Landscape

The Laurel Highlands (Alleghney Mountain Range in the Appalacians).  These are the mountains I call home--my inspiration for my localized wheel of the year.

The Laurel Highlands (Allegheny Mountain Range in the Appalacians). These are the mountains I call home–my inspiration for my localized wheel of the year.

Before we get into how to adapt some of the druid path practices and material to a local setting, it’s important to understand the different ways in which we can divide a landscape into smaller units that are more uniform. Most of us understand divisions from a political sense: the line that separates two countries, states, or provinces. These divisions may help us understand some of the different cultural practices that we can draw upon that are regionally or locally-based. Local feasts, local foods, local agricultural practices, local traditions and folklore all may contribute to our own understanding of ecoregional druid adaptations (and I’ll talk more about those in a second post).

 

However, political lines only occasionally follow ecological boundaries, and so we also need to understand something about ecological boundaries. At the largest level are ecozones (like the Nearctic ecozone, which constitutes most of North and Central America) and bioregions (like the Eastern United States). These bioregions are very large areas that have many, many different ecosystems within them, but do share some broader characteristics (such as patterns of light and darkness throughout a year).  For our purposes, likely the most appropriate place to look is at the level of ecoregion (or ecological region) which is, according to Brunckhorst (2000) is a “recurring pattern of ecosystems associated with characteristic combinations of soil and landform that characterize a region.”  This may include patterns that repeat in the geology, physiography, vegetation, climate, hydrology, flora and fauna, and soils of a land area. In the case of the United States, the Laurentia ecoregion which also includes all of New England, the Mid-Atlantic, the upper Midwest east of the Mississippi as well as parts of South-Eastern Canada. Within this ecoregion, there are many ecosystems which are unique to their specific locations but also broader species that are shared across them.

 

With knowledge of both your regional or local traditions and ecoregion and local ecosystems, you are well on your way to adapting your druid practice.

The Adapted Wheel of the Year

The holidays that make up the wheel or cycle of the year in the druid tradition follow the path of the sun and include the solstices and equinoxes are determined by the path of the sun. The solstices, equinoxes, and cross quarter days manifest differently upon the earth in quiet dramatic ways. The modern wheel of the year, which is celebrated by druids, was developed in Great Britain from older agricultural holidays from Europe. While it fits the UK ecosystem quite well, it may be far less appropriate Texas, USA or Australia. Particularly, while the astronomical event of the longest day and longest night are present always, how they manifest on the earth is tied to how the holidays are celebrated. For example, in the UK or Eastern US, the Fall Equinox is a ritual devoted to harvest because that’s what’s happening in the landscape. Many different adaptations of the wheel of the year have been created by druids all over the world, unique to their ecosystems.

 

A radically different ecosystem that would not abide by the UK-based wheel of the year

A radically different ecosystem that would not abide by the UK-based wheel of the year

Further, the four season model present and assumed in the Wheel of the Year is based on a temperate climate. Some druids don’t live in regions with four seasons. Even within a temperate ecosystem each season may vary considerably by weeks or months, with different bloom times. Each year also is variable; a warm and early spring equals a growing season that has flowering and fruiting maturing earlier.  And so why the sun and solar currents are steady, dependable, and predictable, the hydrological cycles, weather, and manifestation of the season on the earth herself is ever changing.  It seems, then, to create a truly representative body of holidays, we must observe both the progress of the sun across the sky, but also consider the role of the specific season upon the earth and how it manifests where we live.

 

While the overall themes of the wheel of the year manifest in most ecosystems (a time of light/spring, a time of harvest, a time of being indoors/shelter (which might be from sun or cold, depending on the location), these are not consistent with the traditional wheel of the year in many places.  Not all locations have traditional spring, summer, winter, and fall. And so, some druids may find it necessary to develop a modified seasonal cycle and wheel of the year. For example, a wheel of the year in the tropics might include a dry season and a stormy season; this would drastically change the nature of the seasonal celebrations and the overall themes.

 

Deepening the Wheel of the Year: Adding Ecoregional Sacred Observances

Even if you live in a temperate climate (like I do) that is fairly representative of the standard wheel of the year, one of the ways you might adapt the wheel of the year is by adding in what I call minor sacred observances. These, unlike the path of the sun or cross quarter days, do not have specific dates on a calendar set by the consistent path of the sun and patterns of light and dark. Rather, they mark a period in time in the ecosystem, and that specific occurrence changes from year to year.

 

Through a period of observation and interaction, which involved being out in every season and through all kinds of weather, certain events seemed particularly meaningful and salient in my ecosystem.  These were events that I noticed happened with regularity and also that were notable or strikig to me in some way. I also used some of my own knowledge of past local history and lore. This wheel of the year took me over a decade to fully develop and, just as importantly, changed substantially when I made the move from Michigan to Pennsylvania a few years back.  Here it is in its current form:

Dana's Wheel of the Seasons

Dana’s Wheel of the Seasons

 

Anything that is in between the eight holidays is mostly variable – like the first hard frost or first snowfall.  These are particularly significant events that happen each year, and I make note of them and honor them when they occur. I also have noted important dates that connect me to seasonal activities and the land–the yearly creation of Pysanky eggs, a longstanding family tradition. Additionally, all of my gardening and homesteading activities that help root me firmly in the ecosystem like starting my seeds, preparing beds for the fall, harvesting, and so on.  You’ll also see that I have included what I consider to be important markers of changes in my local ecosystem, like the chirping of the Kaydids or the blooming of the hawthorn.

 

You’ll notice on my map, Groundhog Day is included for a simple reason: I live 40 minutes south of Punxsutawney, PA, who has an annual tradition of doing a groundhog weather prognostication (a fancy word for divination) describing how soon winter will end by reading Phil’s shadow. Because of that bit of regional and honored folk magic, I tie my own Imbolc celebrations in with the general regional celebrations for Groundhog day on Feb 2nd and do divinations for the coming year at that time.

 

Of course, a different druid (even one living in the same ecoregion) might have a very different calendar of events. For example, when I lived in the Great Lakes region of the US, the full freezing over of the ice on the lakes (so that you could walk, skate, or ice fish) was a memorable occurrence, as was when the first crack in that same ice appeared. For some druids near the coast, the monthly “tidal bulge” might be particularly salient or the blooming of the beach rose. This is all to say that your own earth-centered holidays and even more specialized seasons themselves can be developed in line with your observations of local ecosystems and ecology. The more that you know about the world directly around you, the more you will have a sense of what is sacred and meaningful about that world.  Perhaps you don’t have a winter, but you have a season of fog—that would change how and when you celebrated that season.

 

Suggestions for Developing and Extending Your Wheel of the Year

First snow....

First snow….

I see this kind of ecoregional calendar as a next step in the druid tradition: we have a set of solstices, equinoxes, and cross quarter days that occur with regularity and that help bring us together. And these are determined by the path of the sun.  But each druid or group of druids might find their own way forward: the general principle here is that part of the druid tradition ties sacred ecological knowledge with a honoring of the cycles of nature and the cycles of the year. Or, you might choose to keep the solstices and equinoxes and do away with the cross quarter days entirely (as they are agricultural) and instead, build in other holidays or sacred moments that are important to you and your region.

 

How you develop your own seasonal calendar is up to you—it is about what is salient on your immediate landscape, the landscape you inhabit each day. Here are some suggestions:

  • Nature observations: You might start by observing nature in your area for a full year and then noting: what is changing? What is different? How important are those changes to you?
  • Interview the Old Timers and Wise Folks: Talk with the old farmers, wise women, grannies, and grandpaps in the area who have an innate knowledge. Ask them how they know spring has arrived, or that fall is coming.  You might be surprised with the level of detail you get!
  • Look to local farmers and farm products. A lot of traditional agricultural customs and products are directly dependent on the local ecosystems.  You’ll see that reflected in my map above—the flowing of the maple sap, for example, as well as the budding of the maple tree are significant to me both because I have done sugaring most years, but also because of the broader cultural custom in this part of the US.
  • Look to local customs and traditions. You might pay attention to regional or local fairs (like the celebration of the maple tree present in my region) and/or look at regional calendars to see what the important dates are.  Some of these may be contemporary customs (like Groundhog Day) or customs that used to take place but no longer do (like Wassailing in January).  Reading about the history of your region, particularly, feasts, celebrations, and traditional activities, might give you more insight.
  • Consider family observances. Some families develop their own traditions, and some of those might be worth considering.  For others, family traditions are often religious and may belong to a religion that you no longer want to associate with, and that’s ok too.
  • Consider where the “energy” is. What is this season about? Where is the energy and power in the land at present? For example, for me around the Spring Equinox here (late March) nothing is blooming. But what is happening are the robins are starting to return and the maples, birches, hickories, and walnuts are running with their sap. And the maples, in particular, are in a place of their highest power of the year (which I understand from talking to them and sensing their energy over a long period of time).  Maple, then, features predominantly in my local druid calendar as well as in ritual work that I do at that time.
  • Speak with the nature spirits.  Perhaps the most powerful thing you can do is to connect with the nature sprits, the powerful energies of the landscape where you live, and see what wisdom they have for you (using any number of inner communication or divination methods).

 

And so, with some observation, intuition, and research, you can develop a highly personalized “wheel of the year” calendar that is eco-regional and very specific to your druid path.  I’ll continue to examine this topic next week, when we explore how to develop localized rituals, observances, and activities for your wheel of the year.

 

(PS: If any of my readers are heading to Four Quarters Interfaith Sanctuary for Stones Rising next weekend, I hope to see you there!)

 

 

Rituals and Activities to Enhance Creativity and Support the Bardic Arts August 6, 2017

This is my song, this is my voice,
These are my words, this is my choice.
Hear me now, take heed of my words.
Love me now, and your spirit will fly.

Hear me in the howling of the wolf,
My voice is the song of the Bards,
I am the power that helps the salmon leap,
I am the very first breath of a child.

From Damh the Bard’s Song of Awen.

 

It has been a long journey into considering the role of the bardic arts in the druid tradition and the role that creativity plays in spirituality. I realized that one final thing was missing from our discussion–a set of practical exercises and rituals that you can use to better work with the flow of awen and embrace the path of the bard. And so, to finish out my long series on the Bardic Arts in the Druid Tradition, we turn today to some practical rituals and practices that you can engage in to help cultivate your own bardic practice. If you haven’t read the other posts in this series, you might want to start there.  They are, in order: the cultivation and flow of awen, cultural challenges surrounding taking up the path of the bard, tips for how to cultivate the bardic arts, the fine art of creating functional things, and finally, the bardic arts as a path of spiritual development.  And so today, we look at five practices that can help you further cultivate the bardic creative arts in your life and in the lives of others: the bardic circle/Eisteddfod, a bardic storytelling ritual, a ritual for invoking the awen, setting up a magical creative working space, and a ritual for cultivating the bardic arts.  I hope that these suggestions offer you some practical tools as you continue on your own path of the bard and embrace the creative flow of awen in your life!

 

Hosting a Bardic Circle or Eisteddfod

In the modern druid tradition, an Eisteddfod is a circle of bards who come together to share tales, stories, dances, and more.  We use this term more loosely in the druid community than where it originated historically, and to frame this practice, understanding a bit about the Welsh Eisteddfod is necessary. Welsh Eisteddfods are traditional bardic arts competitions that have been has been held on a national level in Wales since the 18th century, but go back in various forms much further than that. One of the key early figures in the druid revival, Iolo Morganwg, took the Eisteddfod a bit further.  He developed a “Gorsedd,” which was an event within the Eisteddfod that offered various degrees, ritual and ceremony for the for the purpose of promoting excellence in the bardic arts, particularly poetry, music, and literature. To this day the Welsh Gorsedd has druids, bards, and ovates who wear various robes.  The ranks of the bards include individuals who sit for exams in a variety of bardic arts, Welsh language, and more. Ovates and druids are honored for their contributions to Welsh Culture. Both of these practices persist to this day in Wales, and they take on a particular flavor in the modern Druid communities that trace their roots to the druid revival.

 

In modern Druid communities, it is very common to experience an Eisteddfod, sometimes simply for sharing, and other times, for a bardic arts competition.  Most typically, the bardic circles happen around campfires and can last into the wee hours of the morning.  Sometimes, the Eisteddfod is setup as a formal competition with multiple rounds, winners of individual rounds get to compete at the final night of the gathering.  The winner gets a prize, or at least, serious community recognition. But also, just as often, there is no competition and instead, it is a chance simply to share something by the fire: a poem, a story, a song, . Sharing at an Eisteddfod does not come easily to many people due to a lifetime of cultural conditioning, however, sharing at an Eisteddfod  allows you to break the potential years of silence and thinking you aren’t good enough and again realize there you are, telling a tale and hearing a thunderous applause.

 

Starting an Eisteddfod: You can start an Eisteddfod with friends (including non-druid friends). Ideally, you need a circular space where people can gather and enough people to make it a good time. A campfire or fireplace to gather around is a plus, but not necessary. Consider having a potluck meal as part of your Eisteddfod.

 

Damh the Bard Concert at OBOD East Coast Gathering a few years back

Damh the Bard Concert at OBOD East Coast Gathering a few years back

A Simple Setup. For an Eisteddfod, you need a space where people can gather, enough people to share stories, songs, dances, and other creative expressions, and some libations and food. A fire is a bonus, but is by no means necessary. You also need a master of ceremonies of sorts to help keep things going.  If you are doing an actual competition, you need two additional things: a panel of judges who will be able to declare winners and prizes for the winners.

 

The best part about an Eisteddfod don’t need to invite “druids” over or people on a similar spiritual path. Everyday folks from a variety of different traditions and life paths might find the idea of the Eisteddfod appealing and join your circle of bards.  It is a good way for solitary druids to find community without other druids nearby and still engage in a core practice in the druid tradition.

 

A Bardic Storytelling Ritual of Empowerment

The stories of our own past and histories can help shape our present understanding. This ritual is performed by two people. It can be performed in a sacred space, around a fire, or over a period of days where two people are spending them together. In this ritual, we use the bardic art of storytelling to share stories that are themed through one of four Jungian archetypes (the hero, caregiver, magician, and bard). The two people take turns telling their stories, and while one is telling the tale, the other is deeply listening. At the end of the tale, the listener shares the deeper qualities that he/she heard. For example in a tale of the hero, the listener might hear that the speaker showed bravery, quick wittedness, and eloquence. The goal of this storytelling ritual is to allow both participants to recognize the other’s gifts, the things that are already within ourselves, and that we may want to further cultivate.  Write down the qualities that the listener tells you for each of the stories—they are qualities to remember, and draw upon, for our own healing and growth.

 

The following four archetypes can be used:

  • The Hero (a person who employs courageous acts)
  • The Caregiver (a person who protects and cares for others)
  • The Bard (a person who realizes a creative vision)
  • The Magician (one who is able to work magic)

 

Other possibilities that you might want to include beyond the original three.

  • The Explorer (one who goes on a journey)
  • The Lover (one who expresses deep love for another)
  • The Sage (a person who seeks truth and deeper self awareness)
  • The Ruler (one who helps lead others)

Ritual for Invoking Awen

This very simple ritual for invoking Awen connects us deeply with the waters and the flow of Nywfre. You can use it at the start of any creative endeavor.

 

Supplies: Sacred Water. Before you can do this ritual, you will need to gather some water from a place sacred to you. Natural springs or wells are particularly effective for this, as is rainwater. If you are home-bound, even getting a bottle of fresh spring water from a local source will be effective here. Once you have your water, you can “make more” sacred water for this ceremony by simply adding new water (of any kind) to it. This water can also be used in your elemental altar, below. Place the sacred water in a small glass bowl and have it available for the ritual.

 

Sacred Flows from a Local Spring

Sacred Flows from a Local Spring

The Ritual:  Begin by taking three or more deep breaths, settling yourself into your body and allowing your breath to center and calm you. When you are ready, close your eyes and ring out the “Awen” chant three times. Then, with the bowl of sacred water, lathe your brow and your hands, and say “May the Awen flow within me. May the muse inspire me.” Take a moment to visualize the flow of the Awen within you, flowing in from the land, sea, and sky.

 

Setting up a Magical Creative Working Space: A Bardic Altar

 

Setting up Your Altar

We can use the elemental systems present in the druid tradition to help cultivate the right kind of energy for our own creative workings. One very effective way of doing this is to draw upon the power of the elements to create a physical shrine dedicated to helping you with your creative bardic arts.

 

For the bardic arts, we might use a four-fold elemental system as follows:

  • Fire – Beginning projects, gathering steam, projects of passion and intensity, any body-based work
    • Materials for Altar: Candles, igneous rocks, plant material that likes to burn (like white birch, conifers), red altar cloth, images of fire/sun/light
  • Air – Projects that require deep and clear thinking, projects that are mind/language/communication/memory based, writing/poetry/songwriting projects, problem solving
    • Materials for Altar: Incense, white/light gray/light yellow altar cloth, feathers, wind chimes, bells, singing bowls, images of the sky and clouds
  • Water – Building positive emotions towards a project, overcoming challenges, allowing the Awen to simply flow through you, any painting-based work (watercolor), other work that requires flow and fluidity (like dance)
    • Materials: Bowl of water, collection of water from sacred places, shells, river stones, opals, blue altar cloth, images of water/rivers/lakes, lake plants, seaweed/lake weed
  • Earth – Continuing on with a longer project that you are growing weary of, stubbornness and determination, also any wood-based work or earth-based work (clay), any nature-themed work
    • Materials: Stones, roots, nuts, fruit, bowl of earth, brown or green altar cloth, bark, images of caves and mountains

You can create a small elemental altar near where you are working on your bardic arts to help bring in that elemental energy to the space. You can change the “focus” of the altar based on what elemental energy you might need at the moment for your work. An altar cloth and change of materials will allow you to always bring in the blessing of the element.

 

For example, I have a permanent elemental altar on a shelf in my art studio. While all of the elements are present, the major focus of the altar rotates based on the project I’m working on. If I am particularly deficient and having difficulty (for me, this is almost always in earth and maintaining my focus on a longer project over time) I will dedicate the entire altar space to the energies of the earth for that purpose. And so, I gather up things that are representative of the earth: leaves, acorns, roots, soil, and a potted plant and bring them into the altar.  I also include a small bowl of water, incense, and a candle to represent the other elements (as their presence is also needed for any project to come into manifestation).  Finally, I include an awen symbol on the altar to recognize and connect with the divine inspiration that drives the creative work.

 

In addition to the elements, you might want to put other pieces on the altar that are dedicated to your particular bardic arts.  For example, if you are working on writing, an old-style pen and inkwell might be appropriate, or a symbol fo Mercury, who governs communication.  If you are a dancer, an old pair of dance shoes and a photo of a dancer who inspires you would be appropriate, and so on.

 

Earth Altar in Kitchen for Magical Crafting and Magical Culinary Arts

Earth Altar in Kitchen for Magical Crafting and Magical Culinary Arts

Another option if you don’t have space for an altar or you don’t have a dedicated bardic arts space (or it isn’t appropriate due to living circumstances) is to hang an elemental representation (or set of representations) somewhere near where you practice your bardic art.  So if you practice your storytelling in front of the mirror in the bathroom, hang up a painting or photo of the element(s) or a natural place that is strongly aligned with that element that will aid you.  You could also use a simple awen drawing for this purpose.

Using Your Altar

You can use the altar in a variety of ways.  The presence of the altar itself will have a beneficial on the bardic work. Pausing before you begin the work to open up a sacred space (see below) using the altar as a focus is also a useful practice.  Tending the water regularly (changing the bowl of water, regular adding of new things, dusting, etc.) also connects you to that bardic practice.  Even if you don’t have time to engage in your bardic arts that day, visiting the altar and offering an awen chant will continue to encourage the flow of awen in your life.

 

Before you begin to do magical crafting or practice your bardic art, you can use the altar as a focus point to open up a sacred bardic grove, which I’ll now discuss.

 

 

Opening up a Sacred Bardic Arts Space

As the druid tradition recognizes that the bardic arts are inherently connected to spiritual practice, you can create a sacred space in which to engage in your bardic arts by using a simple sacred grove opening. This practice is particularly effective if you are working on a project that is new, challenging, or spiritual in nature.

 

This could be very simple:

  • Declaring that you are opening a space for working in your bardic art
  • Declaring peace in the quarters
  • Drawing upon the four elements for strength (see below)
  • Asking the Awen to flow within (see below)
  • Putting up a sphere of protection (AODA) or a simple protective circle (OBOD) for the duration of your crafting experience.

 

Here is some elemental invoking language you can use:

  • May the blessings of the Air inspire me and give me focus and clarity for my creative work.
  • May the blessings of Fire inspire me and give me passion and creativity for my creative work.
  • May the blessings of Water inspire me and allow the work to flow.
  • May the blessings of Earth inspire me and give me grounding and strength.

 

You can also get more specific with the language based on the bardic art.

 

To invoke Awen, yo might use a simple poem:

I call upon the Awen, the ancient source of divine inspiration,

I call upon the muses, the hallowed ones who guide my hand/voice/body
[as appropriate]

I call upon the living earth, the force of nature that inspires my craft.

I call upon my ancestors, whose creativity flows within me.

[Add any additional calls as is appropriate]

May the blessing of the awen flow within me this day and always. 

 

And with that, you can open your sacred space for creating the bardic arts, and leave it open as long as you plan on working that day.

 

Art and Spirit: The Bardic Arts as Self Development and Spiritual Practice July 30, 2017

“The way to see what looks good and understand the reasons it looks good, and to be at one with this goodness as the work proceeds, is to cultivate an inner quietness, a peace of mind so that goodness can shine through.”

–Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values.

 

In the last two months, through various angles, we have explored ways of taking up the path of the bard, one of the three paths of the druid tradition. Topics have included the cultivation and flow of awen, cultural challenges surrounding taking up the path of the bard, and tips for how to cultivate the bardic arts. In my last post, we also explored some of what industralization had us lose in terms of the bardic arts–both to those who create them and those who use them and how we might regain some of those things individually and in our communities. Today, we delve deeply into what I believe is the deeper wisdom in studying the bardic arts: using the bardic arts one means to of self enfoldment, self-betterment, and self discovery.

 

Shifting from Product to Process

Worlds within Worlds, or the Unfoldment of the Self

Worlds within Worlds, or the Unfoldment of the Self

A few posts back in this series, I talked about the commodification and commercialization of the bardic arts in our age of hyper consumerism. In this age, if you are good enough to sell your work, you should be doing so, and if you aren’t good enough to sell it, you shouldn’t be making it. This belief, of course, suggests that the point of the bardic arts is producing a product that has a commercial value: a story that people will pay to listen to, a song that people will download on Itunes, a painting or wooden bowl that people will buy, and so on.  And our culture makes it hard to be a bard if something else is your goal–the pressure to do this, as your work improves, is really intense at times. The problem with this mentality is that it focuses on the end product: that the bardic art has produced a particular thing that has some kind of value to other people such that people would pay to see it/hear it/own it. Of course, in a society that is oriented to consume products of all kinds (including non-physical ones), the privileging of this mentality makes a lot of sense.  But in emphasizing this product, we lose the value of the bardic arts as a process–a process of deepening, of unfolding, of development.

 

The point of pursuing the bardic arts, as part of a spiritual path, is the same reason we pursue the spiritual path itself: because we want to go on a journey. Not because we want to achieve enlightenment or achieve any other worldly accomplishment–rather, it is to develop, to grow, to unfold.  In this view, then, it doesn’t matter how talented or skilled you are in your bardic art(s) of choice because the point is to gain a deeper understanding of self, of craft, of spirit and of the connections between those things.  The real “work” of the piece from a spiritual perspective is unfolded in the act of creation. If the point is to express yourself and learn more about yourself as part of the journey, the end product is almost like a bonus. The bardic art journey is its own kind of journey, an incredible one, and one well worth pursuing.

 

The Bardic Arts and the Cultivation of the Self

“Care and Quality are internal and external aspects of the same thing. A person who sees Quality and feels it as he works is a person who cares. A person who cares about what he sees and does is a person who’s bound to have some characteristic of quality.”– Robert Pirsig

 

In Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values, Robert Pirsig describes how the main character, Phaedrus, has an older motorcycle that he has learned to service himself and throughout the story, he “listens” to the engine and fine tunes it to his great satisfaction and joy–to him, this work on his motorcycle is an art in and of itself. Another character, John Sutherland, prefers to allow experts to fix his motorcycle, and often gets frustrated and is forced to hire professional mechanics. This interplay between Phaedrus and Sutherland offers a rich exploration of what constitutes craft, quality, and value. For Phaedrus, the point isn’t to fix the motorcycle, rather, fixing the motorcycle helps him better understand himself.  It is in the interplay between the honing of his own craft, addressing challenges, and the focus and dedication of that work that he grows to deeply understand himself and his own life.

 

The bardic arts have a way of doing this kind work on the self like few other things do.  This comes through embodiment, cultivating a richer identity and self-love, being in relationship, connecting to spirit, and striving for excellence.

 

For one, many bardic arts require intensive focus, where we simply are present with our own bodies in ways that we are rarely present at other times. The bardic arts demand our hand-eye coordination, our voices, our vision, our sense of touch and smell, and many of our other physical faculties. Westernized culture is largely a disembodied one–our minds are the focus, and much of the pastimess of modern humans have us going off into various fantasy worlds (through games, television, movies) rather than being present and centered in our bodies. This embodiment, then, helps us recognize what our physical bodies are capable of and helps us re-orient ourselves back into our bodies. This has the benefit of grounding us back into the here and now, slowing us down, and helping us be fully present, among many other things.

 

Second, the bardic arts help us cultivate a deeper sense of identity and of self. Engaging in a bardic art, and the practice of that art, often requires you to work solitary–spending time with the self. Even if you do some kind of performance or collaborative art that requires a group (like playing an instrument in a band or acting), practice by one’s self is still a regular part of that experience.  This time spent with yourself strengthens your own self love and bonds with yourself because you are taking inherent time to simply be with yourself and enjoy that time. We often don’t take much time for ourselves–but I believe we need to get to know ourselves and develop relationships with ourselves in the same way we might develop relationships with any other friend.  This time, then, helps us better understand ourselves.

 

Three, interacting with the instruments of the bardic art (your voice, the media, an instrument, even for dancers, the earth itself), creates an interplay between you and your tools/environment. It ultimately teaches us about relationship and how to be in relationship to some other thing.  My words, as I write them, shape me and hone my thinking in ways that without writing them, I wouldn’t experience.  My watercolors, likewise, help paint my soul with color and joy as I use them to paint the page in front of me.  This interplay, this interaction, becomes part of the self-unfoldment of the bardic arts.  When you carve wood–are you carving the wood or is the wood carving you? The answer is simply, “yes.”

 

Finally, creation of the bardic arts connects us with some of the most important aspects of humanity: when we think about what gets preserved in most museums, what remains of a culture, it is rarely their businesses, their stock market, their tallies of grain or ore.  It is their arts: plays, music, literature, statues, architecture, jewelry, stories, songs.  In fact, the study of the things that humans create is called the humanities, where literature, art, philosophy, music, theater, dance, and so on have their place. These are human things, things we create with our hands, our hearts, and our minds.  The oldest things that survive ancient pre-humans are cave paintings. Creating is something that humans do, and have done even before we were human.  The bardic arts, then, allow us to reconnect with our own humanity, our humanness.

 

A love of the land and nurturing of spirit

A love of the land and nurturing of spirit

Arete and the Strive for Excellence

As the opening quote from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance suggested, learning how to work on something with care, precision, and a sense of wanting to do “good work” helps you cultivate that care in other aspects of your life.  If you develop a sense of wanting to produce quality work, that gives you an inherent sense of care.  That same care can be cultivated into other aspects of life–and part of that cultivation is learning how to do it well in one area.  The Ancient Greeks had a concept of “arete” (Greek: ἀρετή) which has a few translations: excellence of all kinds and in all things, living up to one’s potential in life, or having a high quality. It was synonymous with the idea of “moral virtue” suggesting that excellence was tied to morality and potential. The Greeks believed that people and the things people created could both have arete. 

 

I don’t see arete as an external quality, something to be judged against the “experts” or “professionals” who make a living doing a certain thing.  Arete is also inherently different than perfectionism. Arete is about personal potential and fulfillment–my personal best may not be someone else’s, based on my own skill, tools available, mindset towards the work, where I’m creating it, and any innate talent I may bring to the situation. The Greeks understood this, and maybe, in the druid tradition, we understand it too.  More, arete is in line with doing the best work you can, engaging in your bardic art to the best of your ability, and in doing so, becoming a more virtuous and fulfilled self.

 

I think cultivating Arete through the bardic arts this is particularly important as we are being subjected to a wide range of cultural values that suggest that cheaper, quicker, and easier is always better.   In many cases, it is not, and learning how to do the best work we can, so that we can strive for excellence is a worthy goal.  It is through this striving for excellence in one thing that excellence comes in many other areas of life as well.

 

Embracing the Flow and the Unconscious

I had a dear friend and mentor visit me some years ago. A few months prior to his visit, I had moved my art studio to a different room in the house; the old studio space became a spare bedroom. My friend, who was very much dedicated to his own druid practices each day, was staying in that room.  After spending a day or two there, he asked me if that room was where I had done my daily spiritual work, because the room had a focused energy. I said no, that was where I painted. And that one interchange has had me thinking, and reflecting, since–noting the similarities between my painting and my other kinds of spiritual work, particularly, meditation of all kinds (movement, stillness, discursive, etc).

 

In speaking to many who pursue the bardic arts with regularity and dedication, there seems to be this moment when the intensity of modern living sheds from us and we enter into a place of focus, quietude, and flow. Many very much see it as a meditation, a chance to go deeper and connect. After immersing oneself for some time within that bardic art, one comes out of the experience more relaxed, calm, and grounded. This is not any different, for me at least, than spending time in ritual or quiet meditation: the effect is the same.  A calmness, a sense of fulfillment, and of serenity come over me after time working on my bardic arts, whether that is fine arts, crafts, or writing. I will say though, it takes a level of skill and practice to get to the point where the flow comes–it is after some period of practice.

 

Above, I talked about the unfoldment that happens in the self. I think a lot of that work is semi-conscious or even unconscious. Our rational minds lose their vice grip and things can flow to the surface as the bardic arts flow. I often find that when I paint, carve, or engage in other work with my hands, by the end of that session, I’ll have come to an understanding of an issue that I didn’t have clarity on when I started. This experience is a powerful reminder that there are many levels to consciousness, and tapping into the bardic arts, when you are at that point of flow, allows you to tap into deeper ones than before.

 

Conclusion

“The real cycle you’re working on is a cycle called yourself.” – Persig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

The bardic arts can also give us a sense of joy that is hard to find in other ways.  We can engage in the bardic arts because they make our souls sing–and finding how to use them to cultivate happiness is an important part of this spiritual work.  For many, part of this comes in sharing your work with others (one of the reasons that the Eisteddfod, or Bardic Circle) is so critically important.  But for others, it simply means tackling a difficult piece and feeling a sense of accomplishment, or learning an important skill through repeated practice.

 

Making things is personally empowering and gets us into a creative, skilled mode where we function best as humans.  There is nothing like a happy group of people learning how to carve spoons, make their own tools, raise a barn, build a rocket stove, or grow their own food.  There is a radiant joy that emerges when we learn how to make our own things.

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