Mid-summer 2011
Some Grove members spent the mid-summer period in Shropshire. The above picture was taken from Oswestry Hill Fort at dusk on Midsummer's Eve. Below is a prayer, taken from our liturgy.
As the sun rides high
O'er the rolling hills
The spirits below make
Contact at this time of
Midsummer.
May the dreamtime of the Fae
Whisper secrets and wisdom
Of the Sacred summer landscape
And may the holy flame of light continue
To be kindled,
Lighting a torch of hope, love and healing;
Reconnecting lost souls, loves and friendships
Across the vibrant green cloaked
And sacred sun drenched summer land.
Deep peace of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the shining stars to you.
Deep peace of the infinite peace to you.
Awen.
O'er the rolling hills
The spirits below make
Contact at this time of
Midsummer.
May the dreamtime of the Fae
Whisper secrets and wisdom
Of the Sacred summer landscape
And may the holy flame of light continue
To be kindled,
Lighting a torch of hope, love and healing;
Reconnecting lost souls, loves and friendships
Across the vibrant green cloaked
And sacred sun drenched summer land.
Deep peace of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the shining stars to you.
Deep peace of the infinite peace to you.
Awen.
Beltane 2011 : Random Thoughts of a Summer of Hope?
April has been one the sunniest and driest in living memory, here in Cornwall, and the summer vibe has been building early. Now the feast of Beltane is upon us with the myriad of celebrations taking place across the land, I decided to head out to Dozmary Pool to meet up with some friends, to celebrate the season and to partake in a small part of the now legendary St Michael Line Rally event.
Above: The mysterious Dozmary PoolThe secretive and brooding Dozmary Pool sits in a shallow, eerie and marshy basin in the heart of the granite upland of Bodmin Moor. In Cornish and Arthurian legend the pool is said to be the last resting place of Excalibur (Caledfwlch (Welsh) Calesvol (Cornish), the powerful sword of sovereignty, held deep within the dark waters by the Lady of the Lake, goddess of the hidden realms of nature and the land. The hill of Brown Gelly stands as the only notable feature of the moorscape to the south of the lake. To the east is the huge reservoir of Colliford. This brooding and visionary pool of water is the only natural lake on the moor and is very special.
The Michael Line Rally was first conceived in 1991, by myself and Paul Weston, as a vast pilgrimage traversing the entire St Michael line, an alignment of ancient sites and powerful natural landscape features from the western tip of Cornwall to the North Sea coast at Hopton, in Norfolk. The alignment has been researched fairly extensively by Hamish Miller and Paul Broadhurst in recent years, and was first brought to modern consciousness by the pioneering researcher and visionary writer John Michell in his The View Over Atlantis.
Standing on the St Michael alignment in the heart of Cornwall I quickly entered into a deep state of meditation where I soon seemed to make contact with the archaic spirit of the lake, an ancient woman who had been laid to rest in the lake around 10,000 years ago. She told me that she was the original lady of the lake and that her spirit resonates through the threads of the more modern myths surrounding Dozmary Pool. Eventually she became the lady who received Calesvol, the sacred sword of the Once and Future King. This was what I saw in my meditations at this place, and whether true or imaginary, I felt that I had touched the sacredness of the land deeply on this sacred day of May's Eve.
Above: Paul Weston, Kala Trobe and Alex Langstone. Pilgrims at Dozmary Pool
on the Michael Line Rally 2011. (Pic: Jonny La Trobe-Lewis)
on the Michael Line Rally 2011. (Pic: Jonny La Trobe-Lewis)
This particular Beltane has been heightened in the thoughts of many by the Royal wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. Whether royalist or republican, we cannot fail to notice this alchemical wedding. But behind the pomp and ceremony, lies a broad expanse of mythology connecting the role of the monarch with the sacredness of the land and whatever we think of the wealth and personalities of the royal family, it is the symbolism of the role of monarchy that is important, a sacred figurehead and a head of state that is aloof, above and beyond the corrupt insipid party-political agendas. If you are unsure, just imagine President Cameron and Vice-President Clegg. Hmm! In my opinion the national psyche would be irrevocably damaged if we became a republic.
Meanwhile Prime Minister Cameron still wants to scrap the May Day bank holiday. He still seems to completely miss the point and utterly fails to understand that Mayday is an ancient British cultural holiday. Here's a tip for you David, try going to Padstow on May 1st, or one of the many Jack-in-the-Green festivals held over the Mayday weekend! Leave well alone.
Beltane is traditionally a time to make contact with other realms and in particular the faerie folk and other nature spirits. In East Cornwall, Joan the Wad is the queen of the piskies, and she is thought to help guide folk across the lonely moors. Wad is a Cornish dialect word for torch, and her legend has been associated with Jack O' Lantern and Will-o-the-Wisp characters who lead folk astray. But she is more associated with good fortune, and I like to think of her as a guiding light in the landscape, leading us to important mystical places and pointing a ray of light on some of the meaningful events in our lives. Her magic is certainly still alive around Bodmin Moor. Her time is at dusk, as the light fades into the void of night. She can be glimpsed amongst trees and around plants, dancing with her fae troupe to the wild music of nature. I often glimpse these beings as tiny flashes of light, bobbing through the woodland at twilight on the periphery of our world. Glimpse her and her kind by hedges and gateways and other liminal places.
Of course Beltane in Kernow would not be complete without the mayhem of the 'Oss at Padstow! Each year the perennial, wild and anarchistic beast leads us into a colourful, iconic celebration of Summer. God save the 'Oss!
Meanwhile Prime Minister Cameron still wants to scrap the May Day bank holiday. He still seems to completely miss the point and utterly fails to understand that Mayday is an ancient British cultural holiday. Here's a tip for you David, try going to Padstow on May 1st, or one of the many Jack-in-the-Green festivals held over the Mayday weekend! Leave well alone.
Beltane is traditionally a time to make contact with other realms and in particular the faerie folk and other nature spirits. In East Cornwall, Joan the Wad is the queen of the piskies, and she is thought to help guide folk across the lonely moors. Wad is a Cornish dialect word for torch, and her legend has been associated with Jack O' Lantern and Will-o-the-Wisp characters who lead folk astray. But she is more associated with good fortune, and I like to think of her as a guiding light in the landscape, leading us to important mystical places and pointing a ray of light on some of the meaningful events in our lives. Her magic is certainly still alive around Bodmin Moor. Her time is at dusk, as the light fades into the void of night. She can be glimpsed amongst trees and around plants, dancing with her fae troupe to the wild music of nature. I often glimpse these beings as tiny flashes of light, bobbing through the woodland at twilight on the periphery of our world. Glimpse her and her kind by hedges and gateways and other liminal places.
Of course Beltane in Kernow would not be complete without the mayhem of the 'Oss at Padstow! Each year the perennial, wild and anarchistic beast leads us into a colourful, iconic celebration of Summer. God save the 'Oss!
"Unite and unite and let us all unite,
For summer is acome unto day,
And whither we are going we will all unite,
In the merry morning of May.
I warn you young men everyone
For summer is acome unto day,
To go to the green-wood and fetch your May home
In the merry morning of May."
Vernal Equinox 2011
For this year's Vernal Equinox, I planned a trip to the newly discovered, but yet unverified stone circle at Harpur's Downs, high up on the north western fringe of Bodmin Moor. Research has shown that the equinox sun should rise over Bron Wennyly, Cornwall's highest hill, when viewed from the centre of the stone circle. So at dawn on March 20th 2011, I set off to find out more...
above: March super -moon-rise over Hawks Tor.At this time of super-moon vibes and equinoctial tides, I write from our hilltop home in the shadow of the brooding moor. Yesterday brought a stunning glimpse of the much hyped and feared supermoon. The huge glowing orange ball of a super-moon rose in a very brief but auspiciously timed window in the clouds. Viewed from our garden, as we were performing a simple ceremony, we were blessed by her shining, glowing presence.
This morning, however, I was disappointed by the movement of low cloud up on the higher ground. The dawn sky looked promising as I left home and climbed up onto the moor at Harpur's Downs. Clear blue sky lay overhead for much of the 15 minute journey, and as I set up the camera inside the stone circle, the views towards the mysteriously magificent peak of Bron Wennyly looked good. Several notches on the summit of the hill gave me tantalising glimpses of where the sun may appear.
Above: Cornwall's highest peak - Bron Wennyly
I settled down by the only remaining upright stone, and immersed myself in the Spring Equinox vibes of the vast empty moorland surrounding me, streching out all around, a profound expansive and wild landscape, once populated by our long-distant ancestors.
I closed my eyes in silent meditation and shortly I could hear a faint buzzing and droning. I opened my eyes, what was that noise? I looked up at the sky and saw hundreds of starlings flock overhead. Their weaving, dancing, spralling flight pattern seemed like a powerful and meaningful response to my sunrise meditations. As sunrise time approached, however, a low bank of rain cloud obscured the entire eastern horizon. Bron Wennyly dissapeared from view and Roughtor soon followed her sister peak into the misty void of obscurity.
So the newly re-discovered stone circle at Harpur's Downs will continue to keep its equinoctial sunrise mysteries a secret for now.
Above: Harpur's Downs stone circle at the Vernal Equinox sunrise, 2011
Posted by Alex Langstone on 20/03/11
This morning, however, I was disappointed by the movement of low cloud up on the higher ground. The dawn sky looked promising as I left home and climbed up onto the moor at Harpur's Downs. Clear blue sky lay overhead for much of the 15 minute journey, and as I set up the camera inside the stone circle, the views towards the mysteriously magificent peak of Bron Wennyly looked good. Several notches on the summit of the hill gave me tantalising glimpses of where the sun may appear.
Above: Cornwall's highest peak - Bron WennylyI closed my eyes in silent meditation and shortly I could hear a faint buzzing and droning. I opened my eyes, what was that noise? I looked up at the sky and saw hundreds of starlings flock overhead. Their weaving, dancing, spralling flight pattern seemed like a powerful and meaningful response to my sunrise meditations. As sunrise time approached, however, a low bank of rain cloud obscured the entire eastern horizon. Bron Wennyly dissapeared from view and Roughtor soon followed her sister peak into the misty void of obscurity.
So the newly re-discovered stone circle at Harpur's Downs will continue to keep its equinoctial sunrise mysteries a secret for now.
Above: Harpur's Downs stone circle at the Vernal Equinox sunrise, 2011
Imbolc New Moon 2011. Dark Musings and Renewed Dreams
Imbolc New Moon 2011. Dark Musings and Renewed DreamsPersonal Imbolc thoughts from the sacred hearth of the Druid Grove of Bega
by Alex Langstone.
by Alex Langstone.
This particular new moon, appearing at the time of Imbolc or Candlemass; with the recurring themes of light from darkness, the warmth of the hearth and mystical creativity from the Celtic patron of poetry herself. I sit by my own hearth, snug within the green rounded foothills of the great brooding granite slab known nowadays as Bodmin Moor. I am musing on many strands at present. From the past I am struggling with a huge creative project known as Spirit Chaser. Nearly done now, but I am still unsure how I feel about it all. Do I really want one of my most personally intense spiritual quests in the public domain?
Equally I am exploring future possibilities. I am still locked in a 9 - 5 working day, which is increasingly taking up far more than 9 - 5! Trouble is I do love my day job, however I also love my vocation; and as I write, and see more of my work in print I truly see that I need increasing time to continue to develop my craft.
My Libran true self of the rising kind gives me trouble when I come up against opposing forces. The scales of justice need to be finely balanced and I feel uncomfortable when the antithesis tips. At this time of year, in our modern world blogging and social networking allow me to escape my commitments for a while, but they can be all consuming, eating away at my free time. So I escape further into an esoteric dream of my own making, where the poet is enraptured by an invisible world on the periphery of time itself.
Druidry gives me a way of communicating and joining with the wider community, away from the safe little cyber world. Handfastings to be planned for the coming spring, much joy and celebration for folk who have their own jubilant aspirations, hopes and dreams to fulfill.
The wider world is awash, as ever, with horrifying nightmarish scenes. This has given rise to my night-time dreamscape, where all manner of things reported on the news are given an even more sinister twist. Abstracted and twisted, the media propaganda is working deep within my psyche. Menacing and ever present through the modern all powerful satellite TV world. But how to respond to all of this. Egypt, Afghanistan, North Korea, where man is destroying. Then down under, in Australia we see natural disasters that seem so vast that it is almost unimaginable here in our cosy UK.
I read a report this morning from the prime minister, David Cameron. He says that multi-culturalism is not working in the UK. What a strange thing to say, in the context of the global village it appears that hatred and violence is the religion of the 21st century. Multi-culturalism appears not to be working anywhere. Stereotypes seem to be looming large all over the place. Building up to a seething hatred. Stop!
All of this is totally beyond my control, but my Libran scales are now way out of alignment, my Piscean sun is horrified and disturbed, and I can't understand why the government wants to sell off all of the publically owned forests. The finance doesn't add up. It surely will not help balance the deficit? (Oh hang on, it means we can have a few more golf courses, sanitised Centre Parcs and playful paint balling war zones!) I still await a reply from my MP. I feel I may have a long wait. Then there is the issue of the closure of public libraries, is this yet another government ploy to continue the desensitising and dumbing down of society?
So is there any light emerging from the darkness this February day? Of course! Snowdrops are blooming all over the garden and in the woods at the periphery of our little enclosure. Days are lengthening and an optimism is gradually emerging in my little world, and whilst I can't solve the wider global problems, I can, I hope, have a positive effect on the lives of those around me. Here's to the coming spring, the warmer days and the emerging light. Here's to joy and unity and the hope that peace and understanding will one day prevail.
Equally I am exploring future possibilities. I am still locked in a 9 - 5 working day, which is increasingly taking up far more than 9 - 5! Trouble is I do love my day job, however I also love my vocation; and as I write, and see more of my work in print I truly see that I need increasing time to continue to develop my craft.
My Libran true self of the rising kind gives me trouble when I come up against opposing forces. The scales of justice need to be finely balanced and I feel uncomfortable when the antithesis tips. At this time of year, in our modern world blogging and social networking allow me to escape my commitments for a while, but they can be all consuming, eating away at my free time. So I escape further into an esoteric dream of my own making, where the poet is enraptured by an invisible world on the periphery of time itself.
Druidry gives me a way of communicating and joining with the wider community, away from the safe little cyber world. Handfastings to be planned for the coming spring, much joy and celebration for folk who have their own jubilant aspirations, hopes and dreams to fulfill.
The wider world is awash, as ever, with horrifying nightmarish scenes. This has given rise to my night-time dreamscape, where all manner of things reported on the news are given an even more sinister twist. Abstracted and twisted, the media propaganda is working deep within my psyche. Menacing and ever present through the modern all powerful satellite TV world. But how to respond to all of this. Egypt, Afghanistan, North Korea, where man is destroying. Then down under, in Australia we see natural disasters that seem so vast that it is almost unimaginable here in our cosy UK.
I read a report this morning from the prime minister, David Cameron. He says that multi-culturalism is not working in the UK. What a strange thing to say, in the context of the global village it appears that hatred and violence is the religion of the 21st century. Multi-culturalism appears not to be working anywhere. Stereotypes seem to be looming large all over the place. Building up to a seething hatred. Stop!
All of this is totally beyond my control, but my Libran scales are now way out of alignment, my Piscean sun is horrified and disturbed, and I can't understand why the government wants to sell off all of the publically owned forests. The finance doesn't add up. It surely will not help balance the deficit? (Oh hang on, it means we can have a few more golf courses, sanitised Centre Parcs and playful paint balling war zones!) I still await a reply from my MP. I feel I may have a long wait. Then there is the issue of the closure of public libraries, is this yet another government ploy to continue the desensitising and dumbing down of society?
So is there any light emerging from the darkness this February day? Of course! Snowdrops are blooming all over the garden and in the woods at the periphery of our little enclosure. Days are lengthening and an optimism is gradually emerging in my little world, and whilst I can't solve the wider global problems, I can, I hope, have a positive effect on the lives of those around me. Here's to the coming spring, the warmer days and the emerging light. Here's to joy and unity and the hope that peace and understanding will one day prevail.
Imbolc PrayerAs the snowdrops rise from the frozen earth
And the snow falls from the steely leaden sky
The waxing sun rises o'er the eastern snowy hills
Casting light onto a new day.
As we sit by the warming hearth
Contemplating the ancient fires of Brigit
The rising sun and the sacred flame become as one
And the Fiery Goddess of the dawn
Reaches out and touches each of us
Warming, loving, healing,
Her solar rays reaching out
Spreading across the earth
Seeking all who need the ancient
Sanctity of Her healing rays from
Deep within Her ancient well and
The sacred oak ringed spring by the eternal flame
Which lights the way to
The earth's stirring womb of creation.
Be at our side Brigit
Guide us and show us your holy light and
Lead us to your sacred sanctuary
Where we can safely and quietly contemplate
Life's strangely weaving mysteries.
Winter Solstice 2010
The solstice full moon eclipse and Montol have been and gone and as we head into the full-on feasting, celebration and general mayhem of the twelve days of Christmas I feel a meditational pause is needed.
Above: Solstice dawn eclipse by Paul Atlas-SaundersMidwinter - a time of frantic shopping and consumer-led stress, when many are forced to add to their debt burden for reasons that are lost on many. This year we have the added burden of snow and ice leading to panic buying and hysteria. Maybe we should stop for a brief pause in the stillness of the snowy landscapes and remind ourselves that it is actually wintertime. Take a look at many of the Christmas cards that drop on the doormat and you will see many snowy scenes depicted.
We have got used to mild Decembers, but really, why should we be so caught out by a bit of seasonal weather. The news is full of stories of how the country is gridlocked, without enough salt to grit the roads. Airports have closed and tens of thousand of folk are stranded, sleeping on the floors of departure lounges.
As we watched the Solstice full moon eclipse, we were able to reflect on the past year and all that has happened in our lives and those global events such as the continued melt-down of the global economy and the carnage in Afghanistan. We were also able to look to the future. Light emerged from the shadow of the eclipsed moon, as she faded into the dawn sky. The reborn sun rose on the shortest day of the year, casting long shadows across the deeply frosted Cornish landscape. A new beginning.
Above: Montol sunrise at Tredethy
Midwinter Solstice and Christmas traditions merge so wonderfully at this time, and this is always so eccentrically summed up by the Montol festival in Penzance, where the guizing and mummers traditions continue into the 21st century with so much seasonal and extroverted style. The festival allowed us to celebrate the longest night, in the company of many other creative folk. We Guize-danced our way across Penzance town under a starry full moon sky, to some wonderful old Cornish folk-tunes played by the fantastic Turkey Rhubarb band.
Above: Guizing in Penzance
As the ceremony climaxed at the burning of the mock, far to the north seismic ripples were being sent out from the sacred centre of the British Isles. An earthquake, centred at Coniston, just a few miles down the coast from St Bees Head, considered by some to be the sacred centre of Britain, measuring 3.5 on the Richter scale, shook Cumbria and the Lakes for just over a minute at 11pm.
The ancient land shuddered, as energy spiralled outwards from the cosmic hub of our island home. Though not a particularly rare event, the timing is interesting.
The energy of a new aeon. As the ages collide and change, so does the land in a mystic spiral of interconnectedness.
Happy Christmas one and all, or as they say in Cornwall's mother tongue Nadelik lowen onen hag oll!
We have got used to mild Decembers, but really, why should we be so caught out by a bit of seasonal weather. The news is full of stories of how the country is gridlocked, without enough salt to grit the roads. Airports have closed and tens of thousand of folk are stranded, sleeping on the floors of departure lounges.
As we watched the Solstice full moon eclipse, we were able to reflect on the past year and all that has happened in our lives and those global events such as the continued melt-down of the global economy and the carnage in Afghanistan. We were also able to look to the future. Light emerged from the shadow of the eclipsed moon, as she faded into the dawn sky. The reborn sun rose on the shortest day of the year, casting long shadows across the deeply frosted Cornish landscape. A new beginning.
Above: Montol sunrise at Tredethy
Above: Guizing in PenzanceThe ancient land shuddered, as energy spiralled outwards from the cosmic hub of our island home. Though not a particularly rare event, the timing is interesting.
The energy of a new aeon. As the ages collide and change, so does the land in a mystic spiral of interconnectedness.
Happy Christmas one and all, or as they say in Cornwall's mother tongue Nadelik lowen onen hag oll!
December 17th the Feast of St Bega
Above: St Bega from a window in St Leonard's parish church, Cleator, CumbriaFeast day prayer of St Bega
Fair lady of the four winds.
Oh Bega of the sacred ring,
we ask for your healing and your wisdom on this,
your winter feast.
As the snow creeps across the land
we accept you as our guide.
Continue to show us the secret ways of the British isles,
the meanings behind the haunted
mysterious landscapes that you behold.
From your central hub at the pivotal point of the land
we feel your blessed healing rays snaking across these green isles.
May your intuition continue to guide us and
may your compassion give us joy.
Oh Bega, seeker of wisdom and knowledge,
explorer of holy mysteries hear our call.
Fair lady of the four winds.
Oh Bega of the sacred ring,
we ask for your healing and your wisdom on this,
your winter feast.
As the snow creeps across the land
we accept you as our guide.
Continue to show us the secret ways of the British isles,
the meanings behind the haunted
mysterious landscapes that you behold.
From your central hub at the pivotal point of the land
we feel your blessed healing rays snaking across these green isles.
May your intuition continue to guide us and
may your compassion give us joy.
Oh Bega, seeker of wisdom and knowledge,
explorer of holy mysteries hear our call.
Allantide 2010
Above: The Shrine of the Ancestral Spirits of the Land.Allantide has marked the completion of the northern shrine in our sacred garden restoration project. This area of the garden was completely overgrown, and the only quarter which had been obliterated of any clues as to what had been there originally. A full report on the amazing story of this esoteric episode will follow next year.
The Cornish feast of Allantide was chosen to re-consecrate the sacred space, as although unfinished, we felt that it was now completely usable and we felt that by inviting friends to witness the inauguration of our outdoor temple at Allantide was propitious.
Our northern quarter has been fashioned into a shrine of the ancestral spirits of the land, and sits on a powerful energy line which flows northwards to the sacred landscape around Tintagel. To the south the serpentine energies flow directly to the Iron Age cliff fort at Black Head, a "serpent headed" promontory at the southern end of Mevagissey Bay.
There is an interesting esoteric tale to tell about Black Head, and an article is in preparation at the moment which will tell the full story of my interaction with this south coast sacred landscape.
I have reproduced our Allantide ceremony below.
Allantide ceremony
Welcome to the Cornish feast of Allantide, where we remember those who have gone before us and acknowledge the ancestral guardian spirits of the land.
At this time we also wish to re-consecrate our garden shrine, which we have lovingly restored and enhanced.
All hail St Bega! All hail Bucka-Dhu!
Samhain Prose.
Crows crowing, flapping somewhere overhead. The wind cries the ghostly song of the departed. We stand alone in this dark, yet welcoming place. It is cold, and dusk is laying her blanket over the rolling landscape of sweeping, undulating hills. The naked twisted trees dance in the half-light of a cold autumnal evening, and vicious clouds scud across a menacing sky.
Old ossifying bones lie hidden here. The bone-yard of the ancient ones lie sleeping in this valley, and the ancient mortuary house holds the key to this place. Half buried under four thousand years of mud and stone
Whispers, half forgotten whispers from the dimming memory of yesteryear. Whispers fade in and out, blending, melding 'twixt the winds playful movement 'neath the trees. We can almost taste the past here! Fleeting and unknowable, but tangible and contradictory. All of this and more. Scattered shards of invisible bone. Ghostly hair, tooth and nail hide here amongst the invisible remains of last years decay. New life sprouts, mushrooming fungus and multi-coloured lichen have successfully colonised this enclosure.
The Cornish feast of Allantide was chosen to re-consecrate the sacred space, as although unfinished, we felt that it was now completely usable and we felt that by inviting friends to witness the inauguration of our outdoor temple at Allantide was propitious.
Our northern quarter has been fashioned into a shrine of the ancestral spirits of the land, and sits on a powerful energy line which flows northwards to the sacred landscape around Tintagel. To the south the serpentine energies flow directly to the Iron Age cliff fort at Black Head, a "serpent headed" promontory at the southern end of Mevagissey Bay.
There is an interesting esoteric tale to tell about Black Head, and an article is in preparation at the moment which will tell the full story of my interaction with this south coast sacred landscape.
I have reproduced our Allantide ceremony below.
Allantide ceremony
Welcome to the Cornish feast of Allantide, where we remember those who have gone before us and acknowledge the ancestral guardian spirits of the land.
At this time we also wish to re-consecrate our garden shrine, which we have lovingly restored and enhanced.
All hail St Bega! All hail Bucka-Dhu!
Samhain Prose.
Crows crowing, flapping somewhere overhead. The wind cries the ghostly song of the departed. We stand alone in this dark, yet welcoming place. It is cold, and dusk is laying her blanket over the rolling landscape of sweeping, undulating hills. The naked twisted trees dance in the half-light of a cold autumnal evening, and vicious clouds scud across a menacing sky.
Old ossifying bones lie hidden here. The bone-yard of the ancient ones lie sleeping in this valley, and the ancient mortuary house holds the key to this place. Half buried under four thousand years of mud and stone
Whispers, half forgotten whispers from the dimming memory of yesteryear. Whispers fade in and out, blending, melding 'twixt the winds playful movement 'neath the trees. We can almost taste the past here! Fleeting and unknowable, but tangible and contradictory. All of this and more. Scattered shards of invisible bone. Ghostly hair, tooth and nail hide here amongst the invisible remains of last years decay. New life sprouts, mushrooming fungus and multi-coloured lichen have successfully colonised this enclosure.
This space, this sacred area of the deceased; the departed ones who haunt another realm, an inaccessible realm of half-fulfilled dreams and visions of poets and painters from across the ages.
Ancient prehistoric lines of power converge here. The shining pathways of the ancestors, corpse roads and coffin paths where we may walk with the dead.
It is dark now, and the Yew tree observes all from the darkest corner of this enchanted world. This is the ancient, wise and cunning you!
Tree of departed souls, tree of renewal, guardian tree of graves. The old twisted branches rustling and creaking in the ghostly vale of dreams.
O Great Spirit, O Spirit of this sacred place we ask for your blessing at this time of Allantide. Let the four directions be honoured that power and knowledge may enter our circle at this special time of remembrance.
North
With the blessing of the Great Bear of the starry heavens and the deep and fruitful earth, we call upon the powers of the north.
May there be peace in the north.
East.
With the blessing of the Hawk of Dawn, soaring in the clear pure air, we call upon the powers of the east.
May there be peace in the east.
South.
With the blessing of the Ancient Serpent, and the inner fire of the sun, we call upon the powers of the south.
May there be peace in the south.
West.
With the blessing of the Salmon of Wisdom who dwells within the sacred waters of the pool, we call upon the powers of the west.
May there be peace in the west.
May there be peace throughout the whole world. May the harmony of our circle be complete.
Samhain Meditation.
Please be seated
You find yourself standing in the corner of a churchyard by a huge ancient Yew tree. Its hollow trunk, gnarled and split with age, appears like a gateway leading us into the night! A crescent moon illuminates the darkened sky and the stars glisten. This is a thin place! Allow yourself to be guided along the shimmering old straight track, from the thousand year old Yew tree and its surrounding grave-stones we walk along a well defined path. This ancient corpse road follows an even older line of earth energy and it has a purposeful and meaningful destination. An owl screeches and a rustling is heard in the nearby undergrowth. Nocturnal creatures are busy. Old fashioned lanterns light our way towards the hill of the dreaming dead. Ancient standing stones pierce the landscape, and wayside wheel-headed crosses lead us to our enchanted destination.
A fire is burning on a nearby hilltop, a bone fire! The assembly cast the bones of the Samhain feast into the blaze, remembering and honouring around a beacon fire, burning into the nights darkness, lighting a pathway into the dreamtime of the departed. But this is not our destination; we have a date with a more ancient edifice. We continue along the faintly illuminated track way leading us deeper into the immortal starry velvet night. We walk through ancient woodland, its trees stark against the night. We are heading into Bone Valley. A deeply connected and primitive valley. A place of antiquated trees and ancient secrets. Bone Valley will soon divulge our holy destination. The moon's crescent appears once more between the protruding branches, which seem to reach out to the night sky. The clouds have dispersed and bright stars shine like timeworn torches in an antique indigo sky. Soon we arrive at a clearing and we see a stony structure, megaliths protruding from the earth. They are curbing a large oval mound and beyond the stones, through a well worn entrance, we find a gaping black opening leading into a stone chamber. Some of the stones have been carved and round indents cause the surface of one stone to stand out, its quartz veins shining, illuminated by the pale moonlight. We sit within the confines of the barrow's heart. We listen to the silence. We light a solitary candle. We pray for the loving departed, and if we so wish we may speak with those who have departed this world for the next.
We emerge from the otherworldly chamber of the Neolithic shrine to the dead. It is dawn, and the eastern sky is glowing an iridescent red. The sun is rising, lighting our way home. We follow the pathway back to the source of our dreamtime adventure. Past the bone fire hill, along the old straight track which leads through the heart of the November woods and the ancient sacred Yew. We take leave of this place, with its needles of stone and its earthy shrines to the departed. We find ourselves in a churchyard, amongst the gravestones, and then we are back at the garden shrine at Tredethy!
When you are ready, open your eyes.
Personal offerings to our dear departed. Leave offerings and lit candles by the shrine of the ancestors. Offer prayers and ask for any personal messages.
Ancient prehistoric lines of power converge here. The shining pathways of the ancestors, corpse roads and coffin paths where we may walk with the dead.
It is dark now, and the Yew tree observes all from the darkest corner of this enchanted world. This is the ancient, wise and cunning you!
Tree of departed souls, tree of renewal, guardian tree of graves. The old twisted branches rustling and creaking in the ghostly vale of dreams.
O Great Spirit, O Spirit of this sacred place we ask for your blessing at this time of Allantide. Let the four directions be honoured that power and knowledge may enter our circle at this special time of remembrance.
North
With the blessing of the Great Bear of the starry heavens and the deep and fruitful earth, we call upon the powers of the north.
May there be peace in the north.
East.
With the blessing of the Hawk of Dawn, soaring in the clear pure air, we call upon the powers of the east.
May there be peace in the east.
South.
With the blessing of the Ancient Serpent, and the inner fire of the sun, we call upon the powers of the south.
May there be peace in the south.
West.
With the blessing of the Salmon of Wisdom who dwells within the sacred waters of the pool, we call upon the powers of the west.
May there be peace in the west.
May there be peace throughout the whole world. May the harmony of our circle be complete.
Samhain Meditation.
Please be seated
You find yourself standing in the corner of a churchyard by a huge ancient Yew tree. Its hollow trunk, gnarled and split with age, appears like a gateway leading us into the night! A crescent moon illuminates the darkened sky and the stars glisten. This is a thin place! Allow yourself to be guided along the shimmering old straight track, from the thousand year old Yew tree and its surrounding grave-stones we walk along a well defined path. This ancient corpse road follows an even older line of earth energy and it has a purposeful and meaningful destination. An owl screeches and a rustling is heard in the nearby undergrowth. Nocturnal creatures are busy. Old fashioned lanterns light our way towards the hill of the dreaming dead. Ancient standing stones pierce the landscape, and wayside wheel-headed crosses lead us to our enchanted destination.
A fire is burning on a nearby hilltop, a bone fire! The assembly cast the bones of the Samhain feast into the blaze, remembering and honouring around a beacon fire, burning into the nights darkness, lighting a pathway into the dreamtime of the departed. But this is not our destination; we have a date with a more ancient edifice. We continue along the faintly illuminated track way leading us deeper into the immortal starry velvet night. We walk through ancient woodland, its trees stark against the night. We are heading into Bone Valley. A deeply connected and primitive valley. A place of antiquated trees and ancient secrets. Bone Valley will soon divulge our holy destination. The moon's crescent appears once more between the protruding branches, which seem to reach out to the night sky. The clouds have dispersed and bright stars shine like timeworn torches in an antique indigo sky. Soon we arrive at a clearing and we see a stony structure, megaliths protruding from the earth. They are curbing a large oval mound and beyond the stones, through a well worn entrance, we find a gaping black opening leading into a stone chamber. Some of the stones have been carved and round indents cause the surface of one stone to stand out, its quartz veins shining, illuminated by the pale moonlight. We sit within the confines of the barrow's heart. We listen to the silence. We light a solitary candle. We pray for the loving departed, and if we so wish we may speak with those who have departed this world for the next.
We emerge from the otherworldly chamber of the Neolithic shrine to the dead. It is dawn, and the eastern sky is glowing an iridescent red. The sun is rising, lighting our way home. We follow the pathway back to the source of our dreamtime adventure. Past the bone fire hill, along the old straight track which leads through the heart of the November woods and the ancient sacred Yew. We take leave of this place, with its needles of stone and its earthy shrines to the departed. We find ourselves in a churchyard, amongst the gravestones, and then we are back at the garden shrine at Tredethy!
When you are ready, open your eyes.
Above: Allan apple offeringClosing.
Let the spirits of the four directions be thanked for their blessings.
North
In the name of the Great Bear of the starry heavens and the deep and fruitful earth, we thank the powers of the north.
East.
In the name of the Hawk of Dawn, soaring in the clear pure air, we thank the powers of the east.
South.
In the name of the Ancient Serpent and the element of fire, we thank the powers of the south..
West.
In the name of the Salmon of Wisdom who dwells within the sacred waters of the pool, we thank the powers of the west.
May the harmony of our circle be complete.
Let us all radiate the light in our hearts, by our hands and in our lives. I now declare this Allantide ceremony of remembrance closed in the apparent world. May its inspiration and wisdom continue within us all.
Let the spirits of the four directions be thanked for their blessings.
North
In the name of the Great Bear of the starry heavens and the deep and fruitful earth, we thank the powers of the north.
East.
In the name of the Hawk of Dawn, soaring in the clear pure air, we thank the powers of the east.
South.
In the name of the Ancient Serpent and the element of fire, we thank the powers of the south..
West.
In the name of the Salmon of Wisdom who dwells within the sacred waters of the pool, we thank the powers of the west.
May the harmony of our circle be complete.
Let us all radiate the light in our hearts, by our hands and in our lives. I now declare this Allantide ceremony of remembrance closed in the apparent world. May its inspiration and wisdom continue within us all.
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