The Ramblings and Wanderings

Archive for October, 2008

Blessings for Samhain everyone! I will be out of town for the celebrations for a few days. Take care and have a happy Celtic new year. Since I am doing a workshop on shamanic rattles and the Silver Branch for Samhain:

The Dedication To A Book Of Stories
by William Butler Yeats

There was a green branch hung with many a bell
When her own people ruled this wave-worn and tragic Eire;
And from its murmuring greenness, calm of Faery,
A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell.

It charmed away the merchant from his guile,
And turned the farmer’s memory from his cattle,
And hushed in sleep the roaring ranks of battle:
And all grew friendly for a little while.
For all who heard it dreamed a little while.

Ah, Exiles wandering over lands and seas,
And planning, plotting always that on some morrow
May set a stone upon ancestral Sorrow!

I also bear a bell-branch full of ease.
I tore it from green boughs winds tore and tossed
Until the sap of summer had grown weary!
I tore it from the barren boughs of Eire,
The willow of the many-sorrowed world.
That country where a man can be so crossed;
Can be so battered, badgered and destroyed

Ah, Exiles, wandering over many lands!
My bell branch murmurs: the gay bells bring laughter,
Leaping to shake a cobweb from the rafter

The sad bells bow the forehead on the hands.
And yet the saddest chimes are best enjoyed.
Gay bells or sad, they bring you memories
Of half-forgotten innocent old places:
We and our bitterness have left no traces
On Munster grass and Connemara skies.

A honeyed ringing: under the new skies
They bring you memories of old village faces,
Cabins gone now, old well-sides, old dear places;
And men who loved the cause that never dies.
On Munster grass and Connemara skies.

(there are a few versions of this floating around, I guess he had to do a couple of re-writes, this is the longest one)

Here is an excerpt from my journal, about on of my first Soul flights (slightly edited and shortened) it is a few years old now:
I was trying to visualize an entry in the earth when, suddenly I am in a cave. It is a massive cave, made of grey and black rough rock; the floor is kind smooth though. The cave is roughly circular and has a very high roof.
On one wall of the cave, but not in the centre, kind of to the side, is the entrance. Through this I see green land and forest and mountainside, I know that is the way to the MiddleWorld.
Moving to the left hand wall from the entrance is a waterfall coming from the rock wall. It is clean, clear water that flows into a pool, out of the pool, crisscross the caves floor into a pool near the center of the cave and then out the entrance, into the world.
Opposite the entrance is a smaller opening, it is shaped like a vagina, with labia and everything, and this is another exit. The opening has darker rocks around it. Through the opening is a small cave with a hole in the floor, this too is vulva shaped. I know that it is the entrance to the Lowerworld.
Along the back wall, beside the entrance to the Underworld, sits a Goddess. As my soul’s eyes gaze upon Her, I know in my heart this is the Mother Earth, goddess of the land, showing Herself to me in Her very act of constant creation and destruction. She is massive, huge and completely naked. Sitting, Her thigh is as thick as I am tall.
She sits, on the floor with her back against the wall, in a cross between a Buddha posture and the birth position. She is very fat, with great rolls of flesh everywhere. She is fat like a woman who has had many children; Her breasts swell down to Her great belly. Her skin is mottled like all of the colors of humans mixed up together, but She is also a little bit red too. I cannot see Her face, and I know She wears crown, but cannot see it. From between Her Great fat legs, menstrual blood trickles out and joins in with the water in the center pool, before flowing out into the world. I know this is the lifeblood of the land, and creative energy of Her, the sacred waters flowing into the universe. I walk right through this warm flow of blood, less than ankle high.
Further along the wall, stands a God, here the roof is much higher, and He towers so tall I cannot reach His knees. The roof opens up, right above Him, letting His sunlight come through and strike the waters in the center pool. His penis is erect and it drizzles fluid that mixes with the blood and waters. He has the antlers of a stag and stands as though on guard. His skin is like the Goddess’s.
Along the wall on his right hand His and to the left of the entrance, the wall is almost empty looking, except for a small juniper tree that grows along the wall; it is old and gnarled and has red bark and green-blue needles/leaves. Its roots run into the center pool.
I step forward and kneel before each God, and tell them I seek to honour them and learn from them and about them. I get no reaction from the God, but I feel I should go to the Goddess. As I come to her, She lifts me up and sits me on Her great lap like a child. I lean back against her belly and I am warm and comforted. The words: The Goddess is strong, The Goddess is soft” come to me and I chant it over and over in my mind. She strokes me like a cat and I feel a powerful, overwhelming love. This is my Mother.
After a while, She lifts me off her and sets me on the ground near the Underworld exit. I go towards the hole in the floor. I am scared, and unsure, I turn to her and ask if I must go down. She feels I am afraid. She raises Her ands and a bird flies out, and towards me. At first I cannot see it well, and I wonder if it is a wren or robin, but then it is a small brown and white owl. I ask the owls name and it spells Ceres in my mind, but we decide to call him Cres. I thank the Goddess and Cres heads into the exit.
I follow Cres and stand at the hole. I know I must go in. Cres waits, hovering above me. I jump feet first down the hole.
I am sliding down a stone, ribbed tube. It is of dark rock with a light behind it. Cres flies above me, I am afraid I will lose him, so I reach up and grab him and hold him close to me. As we go down, I see clear crystals growing out of the walls of the tunnel. Cres says to grab one, so I grab a real big one on my way past it. It breaks off into my hand. Suddenly I know I must keep it, I push it into my chest, I really feel it go into my body. It is so big I am afraid it won’t go in; Cres says to go slow and careful. I push it in all the way as we land at the bottom of the tunnel. The crystal comes out of my left palm a little ways, but it is not in my way to grab things.
At the bottom of the tunnel is a browner, smoother cave. It has the same waterfall. But it is empty, except for purple crystals growing in clumps. There is an opening that leads to steep mountains with forests; I know that this is the Underworld. I go towards the opening, but Cres stops me. I must take a purple crystal. The one I pick is shorter but fatter than the clear one. I pick it like a flower with my right hand. Now it sticks out my right hand like the other one, but they are not in the way.
Cres leads me back to the tunnel and we go back up the way we came.
I take my crystals to the Goddess, she tells me the clear one is my power and the purple one is hers. I am humbled and great full, though I do not truly understand what it means.
Cres and I sit, between her legs for a while, in the blood, leaning on her thigh. I chant, “The Goddess is strong, the Goddess is soft”
Then Cres tells me I must go, he will wait for me. I bid farewell to the Gods, they don’t really answer, but I feel they will wait for me to come back. I walk out of the cave with my crystals in my hands.
And come back to the MiddleWorld…

~ Property of Juniper and Walking the Hedge

A Witch’s Work is Never Done
Some projects I am currently working on:

* A black robe

* A new cloak

* A workshop on shamanic rattles and bell branches

* The website, of course

* Waiting for bears to go hibernate so I can get into my future ritual area. Wind chimes will be hung and solar lights will be placed to discourage returning bears, a scarecrow will be placed there was well. The bear have thousands of acres of backcountry to wander in; they can stay out of a half-acre of land for set aside ritual purposes, as well as where livestock go

* My OBOD Bardic grade
Some things on the backburner:

* A Scarecrow/Stag God effigy

* Painting the new library/ritual room at the back of the house. Living room, kitchen and bathroom get priority

* Unpack everything

* Probably a lot of other things
What I’m reading right now:

* By Standing Stone and Elder Tree by William G. Grey

Most useful book in the library right now:

* The Element Encyclopedia of Witchcraft by Judika Illes
Future plans:

* Samhain hosted by the Druids’ Hearth

* Winter

* Beltaine at my place!

“If you wind up with a boring, miserable life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest or some guy on TV telling you how to do your shit, then YOU DESERVE IT.” Frank Zappa

“Paganism is wholesome because it faces the facts of life.” Aleister Crowley

“Modern morality and manners suppress all natural instincts, keep people ignorant of the facts of nature and make them fighting drunk on bogey tales.” Aleister Crowley

“The Tradition you draw upon is native to the land upon which you stand, solely because the power must ever be drawn direct through the earth wherever you might happen to be. The circle is the gate which opens in the Earth and allows in/egress through the powers of the Land.” Andrew Chumbley

“In early Stone Circle times, people did not distinguish thier Life-Faith by any special title or categorical description. Religion in the sense we see it nowadays had no particular meaning, It was taken for granted people would relate themselves with whatever was there however came most naturally to them, and on the whole there was an overall kind of general pattern most of humankind appeared to recognize in common.” William G Gray

“All humans must be free to find Life-Faith for him or herself.” William G Gray

There Peggy was dancing with Dan
While Maureen the lead was melting,
To prove how their fortunes ran
With the Cards ould Nancy dealt in;
There was Kate, and her sweet-heart Will,
In nuts their true-love burning,
And poor Norah, though smiling still
She’d missed the snap-apple turning.
On the Festival of Hallow Eve.

Snap-Apple Night, by Irish artist Daniel Maclise in 1833

An ancient Elder stands alone
With dark-leafed ivy overgrown:
Thick perfume, and the milky white
Flowers in the growing night.
Here in the bark your eye may trace
The outline of a wizened face,
But few are those who’ve lived to see
Who lives within the Elder tree.

A Danish king with men four score
Came to England to make war;
They fought their way up to the wolds,
Pillaging and stealing gold,
Until at last one summers night
He came to camp in old Rollright.
He came there shouting, Stick, stock, stone!
As England’s King shall I be known!

Three of his men were less than sure
That he was right to thus wage war;
A wee way off they stopped to stoop,
And huddle, in a little group.
But up the hillside forged the king,
His other men stood in a ring;
They stood there chanting, Stick, stock, stone!
As England’s King shall he be known!

But as the King climbed up the hill,
All down his back he felt a chill;
He turned around: naught could he see
But a gnarled old elder tree.
He shrugged his shoulders and he grinned,
Why, it was nothing but the wind!
He climbed on, laughing, Stick, stock, stone!
As England’s King shall I be known!

And yet it seemed the air grew colder;
He felt a hard hand grasp his shoulder.
He whirled about, and who was there
But the Elder Witch! She gave a glare,
And as she spoke, the King did shake:
Seven long strides shalt thou take,
And if Long Compton thou canst see,
King of England thou shalt be!

The King looked up the gentle slope,
He laughed, Why, Witch! You have no hope
Of stopping me! In seven strides
I’ll see around me on all sides:
In six I’ll be atop this hill,
And you’ll be forced to grant my will!
He strode on, snickering, Stick, stock, stone!
As England’s King shall I be known!

But as the King began to stride
Before him rose a barrow wide;
It hid Long Compton from his view.
His sword upon the ground he threw,
You Witch! You hag! That isn’t fair!
Curse you and your tangled hair!
He grabbed her wrist, cried, Stick, stock, stone!
As England’s King shall I be known!

The Elder Witch laughed hard and long,
And at last she sung her song:
Long Compton town thou canst not see,
So England’s King thou shalt not be.
Rise up stick, and stand still stone,
For England’s King thou shalt be none.
Thou and thy men hoar stones shall be,
And I shall be an Elder tree!

An ancient Elder, now a hedge
Blooms along the pathways edge:
And beyond, a ring of stones,
With moss and lichens overgrown.
And higher up the gentle slope
Stands the King, bereft of hope,
And another, huddled group of three:
Rollright stones, and Elder Tree.

Traditional Folktale about the Rollright Stones (I am unsure of the author, if you know, please share)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rollright_Stones

http://www.rollrightstones.co.uk/