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Beltane Gardening Rituals: Garden Blessings, Standing Stones, and Energy Workings

Here in the Laurel Highlands of Western PA, Beltane marks the start of “planting” season, where we move our indoor seeds out into the greenhouse to harden off, where many seeds like carrots and beans start to go into the ground directly, and where the land is budding and blooming with the joy that spring offers.  And so in today’s post, I’m going to share some Beltane spring garden blessing ideas for you, as you can craft your own sacred “druid’s garden”.

One of our amazing sacred gardens here at the Druid's Garden Homestead!

One of our amazing sacred gardens here at the Druid’s Garden Homestead!

The concept of “blessing” is quite wide-ranging.  In the broadest sense, a garden blessing is any working that offers positive energy and protection to a growing space for a season, ensuring your plants a bountiful harvest, long life, and joyful existence.  Blessings can be extremely wide-ranging and pretty much anything you do can have some positive effect if you set to it with the right intention.   In the tradition of this blog, I’ll offer three possibilities for doing garden blessings at the start of your growing season: prayers and offerings, rituals to raise positive energy, and creating a standing stone shrine.  These blessings can be worked directly into a Beltane ritual or at any other time of power when you want to create a ritual link to your sacred gardening practice.

Preliminaries: Blessings, Energies, and Standing Stones for Sacred Gardens

I have a few preliminaries for consideration before we get into the Beltane blessings. First, you want to be clear about your intentions for growing plants or blessing this garden space.  Are you growing annual vegetables (tomatoes, corn, cucumbers, beans, etc) for your family? Are you creating a sacred garden for growing offerings, smoke cleansing sticks, or other sacred tools?  Are you cultivating a perennial flower bed for pollinators?  Does it do a bit of all three or something else? I would suggest spending some time thinking about your intentions for the space you are blessing so that you can choose the right kind of blessing and establish your intentions clearly.  Those intentions are set in part I of the ritual.

The second thing is that everything with the land should be done in a place of reverence, respect, and reciprocation with the living earth. I write this again and again on this blog for a simple reason:  here in the USA, at least, we are so indoctrinated to take what we want from nature, see nature as a thing in service to us, and do damage to the living earth through our action that it is often a subconscious behavior.  Thus, it takes a lot of mindful distancing and reprogramming our brains to think differently all the time.  So as you do any of these blessings, bringing in that feeling of reverence, respect, and reciprocation is critical to this work.

The three aspects that I am sharing can be used together in a single ritual or they can be used individually.  If you are planning a single ritual with the three, you will want to open up a sacred space as befitting your own practice (I use the AODA’s Solitary Grove opening, as AODA’s druidry forms a core of my practice).  Once you have your space opened, you can engage in the three activities–or just do one.  You can also adapt these specifically for your own needs.

I’m using the example of dedicating a newly expanded garden space that exclusively grows herbs for sacred uses (I will share more about this space in an upcoming post and how I developed it). I have a new bed that grows various sages, sagebrush, tobacco, and sweetgrass–all of these I use exclusively for sacred purposes such as making smoke clearing sticks and offering blends. I may give some of these plants away to friends and fellow druids, but I do not sell them. So my example below uses this in context: you should adapt this as necessary for your own needs.

A slate standing stone. I found this kayaking last year and it wanted to be in the garden. It took a few years to find this!

For part 1, you will want rainwater or other sacred water, incense or a smoke clearing stick, and an offering (water with liquid gold, something you’ve baked, or your own offering blend), and some form of divination. You can also set up a simple altar with anything else you would like to dedicate the space.  For Part 2, you will need a shovel or trowel, a small standing stone (any stone that can be placed 1/3 of the way in the soil and 2/3 out), healing waters, and spring flowers or other markers of the season (use what you can find locally).  The stone can be as small as 6″ tall or much taller as you can find!  Please make sure the stone is willing to serve in this capacity before you put it to use–sometimes finding a standing stone can take time and you can skip over part II and do it later if you don’t have a stone available. For part 3, you only need yourself.

This ceremony draws from several sources, but the most prominent is the Sphere of Protection used by the Ancient Order of Druids in America (which is adapted used in the 3rd part of the ceremony).  For more on the magic of setting standing stones and on how to learn the sphere of protection, I recommend The Druid Magic Handbook by John Michael Greer.

Overview

The first practice is a simple one of acknowledgment, respect, and dedication–setting your intention for space, making an offering, and offering prayer and blessing for the garden. The second part of this ritual sets a standing stone in the center of the bed.  Ancient cultures, including those who set stones throughout the UK, recognized that a standing stone offers light and blessing to the land.  In the druid tradition, we recognize the power of standing stones, both to connect us to our ancient ancestors and also in radiating the solar current down into the telluric. The third part creates a sphere of protection for the garden for the coming season by drawing upon the energies of the seven elements.

Beltane Garden Blessing, Part I: Intentions, Prayers, Offerings, and Messages

Open up your sacred space.

Start by setting your intentions for the garden space.  This should come from the heart.  You can adapt the following:

“Spirits of place, spirits of this garden, I dedicate this new garden bed for the purposes of growing herbs for my sacred work in walking the path of druidry and healing the land.  Sage, sweetgrass, tobacco, lavender, and mugwort, may you grow tall and strong.  May you thrive in the heat of the summers, and may your roots and seeds rest with the deep winters to emerge again in the spring.  May we work in partnership and joy this day and through the coming season.” 

Make your offering to the garden bed as you see fit.  I like to place mine just in the soil.

“I make this offering in friendship and respect.  With my hands and my heart, I will work to prepare this space for you to grow and thrive. May I always remember to take only what you are willing to give, and may we work in partnership.”

Now, pour the rainwater over the bed.

“The waters of life bless you, this day and always.”

Light the smoke clearing stick and blow the smoke gently across the bed.

“May the fire of the sun and the ashes of these herbs bless you this season.”

Pause and simply take a moment to enjoy being in the presence of the new garden bed.  Pull out your divination system and ask, “I would love to hear what messages you have for me, that might guide my work with you this coming season.”

Use your divination system (drawing a card, using inner communication, drawing an ogham, whatever you best use)

If this is the end of your ceremony, close out your grove.  If not, move to part two.

Beltane Garden Blessing, Part II: Setting a Standing Stone

Hold the stone before you (or touch it, if it is quite heavy): “I honor this grandmother stone.  She who is millions of years old, and who carries with her the wisdom of the earth mother.  Dear stone, will you aid me in bringing blessing and light to this garden?”

Wait for a clear indication to proceed (this may be an inner response or some positive feeling).

Placing standing stone in the bed

Dig your hole to place the standing stone.  The stone should be placed 1/3 of the way into the soil and remain 2/3 out, reaching to the sky.  Once you’ve dug your hole, pour the healing waters in the hole and say, “Cradle of the earth, accept this stone and the blessing of these sacred waters.  May you be blessed and nurtured this day and always.”

Place your stone.  As you place it, intone the words of power, “Awen, Awen, Awen”.   Pack the soil tightly around the stone.  Pour the remainder of the water on the stone, saying “I offer you this water as a symbol of gratitude for your blessing in this garden.”  Circle the stone with spring flowers. “I adorn you with flowers, honoring the life that you will bring.”  Chant additional “Awens”.  As you chant, feel the rays of the solar current descending into the stone and radiating out into your garden bed.

Close your sacred grove or move to part III.

Beltane Garden Blessing, Part III: A Sphere of Protection for the Garden

Say, “Now that this garden is blessed and the stone is set to radiate energy to this land, I offer a weaving of protection for the season to come.”

Move to the east and call the east in whatever format you see fit or use this: “Spirits of the east, powers of the rising sun and the hawk of May soaring in the heights of the morning, I call to you to protect this sacred garden, this day and always.” Feel the powers of the east present in your space.

Move to the south and call the south in whatever format you see fit or use this: “Spirits of the south, powers of the summer sun and the stag in the summer greenwood, I call to you to protect this sacred garden, this day and always.” Feel the powers of the east present in your space.

Move to the west and call the west in whatever format you see fit, or use this: “Spirits of the west, powers of the salmon of wisdom in the sacred pool, I call to you to protect this sacred garden, this day and always.”  Feel the powers of the west present in your space.

Move to the north and call to the north in whatever format you see fit, or use this: “Spirits of the north, powers of the great bear in the starry heavens and the tall stones, I call to you to protect this sacred garden, this day and always. ”  Feel the powers of the north present in your space.

Place your hands on the soil of your garden bed.  Call to the telluric currents of the earth in whatever format you see fit, or use this: “Spirits of the land beneath this sacred garden, spirit below, telluric current of energy that flows through this land, I call to you to well up and protect this sacred garden, this day and always.”

Stand up and raise your hands to the sky.  Call to the solar currents of the heavens in whatever format you see fit, or use this: “Spirits of the skies above this sacred garden, spirit above, solar current of energy that flows from the sun and the turning wheel of the stars, I call to you to descend and protect this sacred garden, this day and always.”

Final Standing Stone with Stone Altar

Place your hands upon the stone at the center of your garden (or on your bed if you did not do part II).  Call forth to the six elements and ask for their protection.  “By the six elements here invoked, and here present, I call upon the lunar current, spirit within, the spark of life within all beings.  May these elements combine and form a sphere of protection around this sacred garden, this day and always.” As you do this, envision the elements coming together in the center of the stone and then radiating outward to form a multicolored sphere that protects the garden bed.  Firmly establish this image in your mind.

Step back and offer gratitude, “I thank the powers for their blessings on this garden and on this working.”

Close your sacred space.

 

Dear readers, I would love to hear how you’ve done garden blessings and if you decided to use this at any point.  Blessings of Beltane!

The Tears of the Earth: A Hike on Sólheimajökull Glacier

Sólheimajökull

Sólheimajökull

It was our final day in Iceland before returning back to the US. We so many great experiences visiting this country of beautiful extremes, but more than anything, what we wanted to see on our last day was a glacier. We talked about it, and decided that we should see a glacier, as we might never be able to see one again. We booked a beginner glacier hike on Sólheimajökull glacier, a hike that took you way up into the glacier.

 

Where the glacier used to be, 2010. Where I am standing and taking the photograph is where it was in mid 2009.

It was a misty and cool day; small droplets of rain pressed against us at the parking lot at the base of the glacier. Before us, the Sólheimajökull glacier loomed, white and black and gray. After getting fitted with safety harnesses, helmets, crampons, and pick axes, our group of twelve set off to the glacier hike. Our guide, who was originally from the Alps and who had been hiking glaciers his whole life, first took us to a sign as we walked along the edge of an enormous lake. He stopped and said, “In 2010, this is where the glacier was. Each year, it gets smaller. In the winter, it stops melting but never regrows. But we’ve still got quite a hike to get to the glacier as you can see.” The sign he showed us had many different numbers with years. Last year, in 2018, the glacier receded more than any other year: 118 meters. And so, we continued our hike, which took about 15 minutes, walking along the edge glacier’s melt pool.  This link offers a video that shows the melting of the Sólheimajökull glacier from the years 2007- 2015.

 

One of the tours they now advertise in Iceland the “kayak the glacier” experience. There is a kind of horseshoe shaped lake that is made when a glacier reaches its largest size and then begins to melt. You’ve seen this shape before on a map: its reflected in the bowl-shaped bottom of Lake Michigan. That bowl shape is created by the melting of a glacier. As a glacier advances, it  moves earth itself, pushing up stone, soil, and bedrock; the powerful edge of it creating a wall of stone. As the glacier recedes, it leaves that wall of stone behind, and as it melts, that stone creates a natural dam, and the bowl-shaped area behind the dam fills with water. Water that tourists can kayak in. Water that is created, in part, by the 2600 miles it took me to fly to Iceland. Water that is, for all intents and purposes, the tears that the earth cries.

 

Icebergs and the melt pool at Sólheimajökull

Icebergs and the melt pool at Sólheimajökull

As I stood at the bottom of the glacier, I realized how small I was in comparison to the massive block of ice. The Sólheimajökull glacier took up all the space, moving into our field of vision, white, black, and sometimes blue, daunting in its appearance. As we got close, you could see the shimmering of the melt water coming off of it, moving into the lake below.  Icebergs, also, floated in the lake–our guide explained that those icebergs crack off the glacier frequently and will likely be gone by the end of the summer.  So much ice.  So much to melt.

 

We carefully put our crampons on our feet and, single file, began our ascent into the glacier.  As soon as we stepped foot on the glacier, my heart grew heavy with sorrow. The most striking feature of the glacier wasn’t the beauty. It wasn’t the black ash from various volcanic activity, or the white and blue ice. The most striking feature was how fast it was melting. Everywhere the glacier was melting. The day we were there, it was around 50 degrees, now a fairly common temperature for Iceland this time of year. And everywhere you looked, the glacier was glistening. Little drips became streams, streams became bigger streams, and eventually, they flowed into quite large rivers, running down the glacier. Standing anywhere on the glacier, you could observe this and watch the ice melt and take milennia of black and gray ash along with it.

 

At one point, our guide stopped and pointed to a mountain quite far off from where we stood. Less than a decade ago, he told us, the glacier reached up to that nearby mountain. Now, that mountain isn’t reachable, the glacier is much lower, and there is a glacial river between us. I stood there and thought about it: that must have been millions of gallons of water in that short time, all melted away into the lake and eventually, ocean nearby.

 

Mountain where Sólheimajökull used to reach

Mountain where Sólheimajökull used to reach

The amount of melting made the Sólheimajökull a bit difficult to traverse. The tour company maintained a trail on the glacier, but it was an ever-moving target. As we hiked, we two people working on the trail on the glacier. They would cut a set of stairs, and then, within an hour or two, the stairs would melt and become dangerous and they’d have to cut new ones. This ever-evolving trail was now just part of the experience of walking on a glacier, as our guide explained.

 

The walk was a walk of extremes. The solid white and blue ice. The black and gray of the volcanic ash becoming unlocked as the glacier melted. One of the folks on our walk asked, “can we tell what volcanic eruption this ash came from?” Our guide said, “No, it all just melts together.” You could be standing on ash and melt from 10,000 years ago or even 100,000. Scientists with specialized equipment drilling core samples could tell, but we could not.  Here is an image of the entire glacier, Myrdalsjokull, from 1986 to September 2014.  The glacier we walked was one “arm” of this larger glacier.  You can see how massive it is, and you can glimpse the volcano that sits beneath.

 

Throughout our week in Iceland, I didn’t get a strong sense that the spirits of the land were welcoming or open to outsiders. Icelanders certainly capitalize on their island’s natural beauty as part of their tourist industry. And while you might enter a lava cave and be told of rooms called “the banquet hall of the elves” or “the troll’s den”,  or, you might see the stone stacks throughout the land that are there to appease the little people, the Icelandic people are not willing to talk about those aspects of their land.  They don’t speak of their relationship to the land spirits with outsiders. And neither do those spirits of the land seem interested in saying hello.  So I spent the week in Iceland not engaged heavily with the spirits of the land; things were just quiet.  Thus, I was certainly surprised when even before I walked up to it, the glacier immediately reached out to me and wanted to convey a message.

 

Meltwater on the Sólheimajökull glacier

Meltwater on the Sólheimajökull glacier

As we climbed Sólheimajökull, I connected deeply with the spirit of place. The glacier itself, and the spirit of the mountain—between two active volcanoes, Katla and Eyjafjallajökull. Sólheimajökull first shared with me its anger, so angry that it was melting away. So angry at humans. I could feel the stress and strain as it spoke to me: to tell people what you have seen here. Tell of how the melting will flood their cities. Speak of the truth you have witnessed. I felt the anger in its voice, the anger radiating out of it, as it knew it was dying.

 

We continued to climb the glacier, witnessing its tragic beauty among the melting ice. Then a second voice emerged from Sólheimajökull, this one of sadness. I am losing myself, the glacier said. I am crying tears for the world. How many people who climb me today will speak of what they have seen? How many will change because of it?  How many have made me cry further just to walk upon me? I cry for us, the glacier said, and I cry for the world.

 

We had to climb over a large crevasse with water rushing through it. Our guide explained that this kind of crevasse was very dangerous and could easily drown you if you fell in.  Eventually this crevasse would literally crack a large chunk of the glacier off into the melt pool. As I navigated the crevice, I heard the glacier speak once again, this time, in despair. What is happening is happening. There is nothing to be done.  Our melting will reshape the world. I have been here for so long, and someday, I will be here again. But in the meantime, my waters will travel far and wide.

 

Upon meditation on this experience after returning home, I realized that I was hearing the many voices of this glacier working through the many stages of grief.  I was experiencing the grief that this sacred place was experiencing, conveying to me, perhaps so I could convey it to you.

 

Crevasse in melting glacier

Crevasse in melting glacier

We got to a high point on the glacier where you could see it continue to rise up for many miles into the mist.  Here the glacier flattened out quite a bit. It was here that our guide swung two pickaxes in the ice to create handholds and let us kneel down on them to drink the fresh glacial melt-water. Pure, cold, refreshing. As I drank the water, thirsty from our climb, I could feel the energy of the glacier. As I drank, the emotions that the glacier was conveying to me welled up within me, overflowing. Anger, fear, sadness, despair, acceptance. All at once, those feelings spread throughout me. As we made our way back down, I simply allowed myself to experience the myriad of complex feelings of this place.

 

The next day, on our flight home, we flew over Greenland and the lower part of the Arctic before landing back in the US. I looked down, out of the window of the plane, and saw so many small chunks of ice participating in their own complex patterns of melting, this time, with nobody to hear or witness up close.

 

Melting ice from the plane

Melting ice from the plane

How much damage did this trip to Iceland cost the earth? That’s the part that has been perhaps the hardest for me to process, as I’ve been thinking about and meditating on this experience. I went on this trip for pleasure. I’ve had little chance to travel, and I wanted to experience new things and visit somewhere completely different. But my very engagement with this glacier, my presence there, was part of why it was melting. Sure, you can say, but Dana, you can always offset your carbon for this. And yes, I always do offset my carbon from travel at the end of the year (most of it work related). But does that  offset matter? In the end, I chose to engage in an activity that speeded the melting of this sacred place.helped this glacier melt. One article, I read recently suggested that each trans-Atlantic flight, like the one I took, melts about 30 square feet of Arctic sea ice.  So for myself, my round trip contributed to 60 square feet of ice melted in the Arctic.

 

Just like the glacier, I’m full of a myriad of complex emotions. I’m glad to have this experience. I’m saddened by it. I recognize my own part in this.  I feel sorrow and anger and acceptance. We are all on the front lines of climate change, the 6th extinction happening, the age of the Anthropocene.  Every one of us is living in a time where we are aware of the problem, many of us trying to do something about it. At the same time, by participating in modern life, we can’t help but contributing to it.  This is the great Catch-22 of our age.  To see the glacier is to destroy the glacier.  To use fossil fuels necessary for modern life is to burn them.  How can I afford solar panels for my home without commuting to work each day in a fossil fuel powered vehicle?  The glacier weeps as I write.

 

But the other thing that this lesson has powerfully taught me is the power of experience. How many people, in seeing that melting glacier could really deny the truth of climate change? How could it be denied that these things are happening, powerfully and directly, before our very eyes?  This experience has changed me. I “knew” about the glaciers melting before.  Knew as in I intellectually engaged in an understanding about the fact that glaciers worldwide were melting. But it was not till I stood upon one, till I connected with the spirit of that place, and until I confronted my own contribution to that melting, could I really have wisdom surrounding it.

 

The glacier

The glacier

As I write these words, I’m attempting to convey some of that wisdom, that direct experience, but my words cannot have the impact of that weeping glacier. Book knowledge is what we engage with intellectually and logically, what we read or hear in order to better understand something. Book knowledge is mitigated by human language, words on paper or spoken aloud. These words, as I write them, are read by your eyes and processed by your brain. But they are a pale representation for the experience of standing there, of seeing the glacier weep, drinking its meltwater, and feeling its pain. But I’ve done my best, dear reader, and I hope it gives you a small piece into this experience and into that of one melting glacier. Can we find these same kinds of changes in our own ecosystems, and use them as local teaching tools? Perhaps we can, and perhaps that’s a message I can leave you with today.

 

PS:  I’m excited to announce that I just signed my first book contract a few weeks ago!  Because of this, I will be taking a few weeks off of blogging so that I can prepare my manuscript to submit to the publisher (which is quite a bit of work).  I’ll keep you updated on the progress, release date, etc.  Thanks for your understanding!