As the God Protects, So the Goddess Provides.
As the Wind sings, so the Fire dances.
As the Earth keeps us steadfast, so the Water flows.

I am a son of Cernunnos, the Stag Lord, Hunter and King.
I am a son of Danu, the Earth Mother, the loving Queen.

I am a brother of the elemental spirits of Air.
I am a brother of the elemental spirits of Fire.
I am a brother of the elemental spirits of Earth.
I am a brother of the elemental spirits of Water.

As the God hunts, so the Goddess guides.
As the Wind whispers, so the Fire roars.
As the Earth keeps us strong, so the Water carries us along.

I am a nephew of Arianrhod, Lady of the Silver Wheel
I am a nephew of the Morrighan, Lady of Ravens.
I am a brother of the Raven and Wolf, my animal companions.
I am a soul who dances to the call of Awen.

I am a Son of the Sun, a child of the verdant Earth.
I vow my body, mind, spirit and love in service:
To the call of the Bardic song.
To the call of the Goddess and God.
To the fulfillment of my destiny, such as it is.

As Druid, as Bard, as Pagan, as Teacher, as Guide and Friend.
In Hope, Balance, Unconditional Love and all the Courage,
Of my Heart and Spirit. From the beginning to the very end.
Since the time of my birth, till in death I depart.

In the light of sun, or moon…. Awen

Cool air, and the form of a stag in the gloom.
Whilst about me, shadows are cast by the moon.
Leaves fall to the earth, from branches on high.
Beneath the trees, below the stars I lie.

Faeries sing in the light of the dawn.
As the new day, from the night, is born.
I smell the damp earth, I see the dew sparkling.
On the edges of leaves, in the dawn light dancing.

Beneath the light of sun and moon.
I dance with joy to the Stag Lord’s tune.
Whilst in silence I walk across the land,
As the Mother offers me her gentle hand.

Childhood has gone and passed me by.
Whilst in youth I aimed for heaven in the sky.
Yet now I see that paradise is where I am.
Earth my provider, my mother, my home.

(Ronal Greenleaf 02/05/12)

A moor, of dark heath, puddles and mud. A low fog clinging to leaf and stone. There is a silence, a deep sorrowful silence that hangs over the land. The sun cannot be spotted through the curtain of deep grey clouds stretching across the sky. But the land is still light enough to see, though it is an array of deep greys, greens and browns. 

I continue onwards, stepping carefully to avoid the deeper puddles, and the mud as best as I can. The crunch of an occasional twig, or the squelch of wet soil under leather boots forming the only other sounds I can hear besides a quite breeze, cold as ice, and my own ragged breathing. 

I continue onwards, winding through the moor in silence, alone save the cold. I wrap my own cloak about my body to ward off the chill. The air is thick here, making breathing somewhat a struggle, and eventually I stop walking. The fog seems to be getting thicker.

I find a low stone, one not covered in mud, and sit down. The moor stretches as far as the eye can see, and I feel a deep sense of aloneness. I sit up, taking in the view, looking up at the dark grey clouds, hoping that it won’t start raining.

Then, I hear the sound of a wailing battle-horn, and I look up as the Horned God approaches through the fog. This time however, his face is stern, and he is dressed in ancient battle gear. Behind him walk two warriors, highlanders, both carrying swords, dressed in their tartans and some leather armour. 

“Greenleaf!” the Horned One greeted briskly, bowing in greeting. “Thought I’d find you out here.”

“You thought correctly,” I replied, bowing also in response. I looked around at the moor, before adding “I assume I have to be here?”

“Ai! Come with me lad, there’s people I need you to meet,” then he paused “You call me Cernunnos, but at this time of the year they,” and he pointed to the two warriors “call me Herne!”

I nodded my understanding and followed, both warriors taking up positions behind us. We walked for quite a way, until finally we left the moor. Up into the hills we climbed, through the maze of trees that blanketed the hillside with a dark forest.

The warriors drew their weapons and I looked at Herne questioningly. He smiled then, patting my shoulder gently before speaking “These woods are said to be haunted. Whilst the dead will not harm myself and my men, they insisted that perhaps you would need some assistance.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I replied. Herne grinned at me wryly and then looked back at the guards.

“See lads, I told you,” he chuckled. They shrugged in response and we kept walking. As we walked, the trees seemed to give off a sense of deep stillness. Herne’s face was stern, and he often glanced in my direction to ensure that I was keeping pace.

“Exactly where are we going?” I asked, looking at the trees, ancient oaks taller then any I’d ever set eyes upon.

“The Gathering,” Herne replied simply.

“A gathering of what?” I asked.

“The dead… they wished you to join them,” Herne responded and then grinned at me as he caught the expression of surprise on my face. “Alright there Ronal?” he asked “any whiter and you will be a ghost” then he smiled warmly at me and kept walking. 

I expected a grove of trees, but I was surprised to find a ruined battlement. As we stepped in amongst the ruins, I noticed that we were not alone. Hundreds of spirits sat in silence, looking down on us from the shattered walls and crumbling towers. We were in the courtyard of a ruined castle.

I noticed Herne approach a figure, shorter than me wearing a simple black dress, and her face was cloaked by a hood. “He’s here now little lady,” Herne greeted the woman and she nodded before walking up to me.

As she removed the hood from her face I almost fell backwards in shock. “Nan?!” I exclaimed, seeing my grandmother’s caring expression and reassuring smile for the first time in years.

“I heard your poem,” Nan said simply, hugging me tightly. “It was lovely.”

I hugged her back “thanks,” I replied.

“I only have a short time here William,” Nan explained “There are others that wish to meet you, and it would be rude of us both to keep them waiting. All I wanted to say is that I am proud of you. Stay true to yourself, and you’ll achieve everything you want to in life.”

She kissed me on the cheek, and then walked off into the castle. Then a Scotsman, with an almost totally white beard, holding a lochaber axe, walked up to me. Like the two original guards he was arrayed in his tartan and armour. He was taller than I, and his eyes watched me intently for a time.

“Gaisgach Liath,” I whispered, shaking his hand in greeting. The huge man smiled at me then, though the look in his eye flickered with what seemed to be a deep sadness. I spoke up then “Those that died, at Culloden, and during other rebellions… they died for what they believed in. They kept their honour.”

“You speak well child,” the warrior said, his voice deep and strong. “You are correct of course. We fought and died for what we believed in, and it was no cowards death,” he sighed then “still it is a tough thing to live on after watching many friends pass away, or your own son die.”

“That is why you wandered, isn’t it Fearchar?” I asked. He said nothing, merely nodding his agreement before stepping away from me. Herne approached me again then, and motioned for me to follow him.

We walked out of the courtyard and in amongst the trees. “You are probably wondering what lesson there is to learn from seeing those who have passed before? Well there are many, and there are few. The main thing I want you to take away from here, is that you are never truly alone.”

He placed his hand over my heart.

“The memories of the beloved dead continue on, in the hearts of those who come after them. Their blood flows in your own body, their genetics in your skin. Though you grew up in a land far from the place your ancestors did, you still carry on their legacy,” he hugged me then, whispering in my ear “You are never truly alone.”

Then he stepped away from me, and turned to walk back into the courtyard. “I will see you soon Little Greenleaf,” he added “But for now I must bid you a fond farewell.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

He stopped then, mid-stride, spinning on his hoof to face me, a grin on his face, a fire in his eye.

“The hunt begins!” then he pulled out a horn from his belt, as his spear appeared in his hand. He let out a long, loud blast of the horn and from all about me, the forest resounded with other horns, rallying to the call of the Hunter.

He bowed again to me, and then vanished into the fog. The ruins had also disappeared and I stood there alone in the darkness of the forest. Yet, I knew that those I had loved, and those I would love and lose over the years would always be close by.

“Happy hunting,” I whispered. As the words rang in the air about me, I could hear off in the distance the braying of hounds.  

Well, the time is upon us again for another Seasonal Celebration. The cycle of the seasons continues to spin, and in the southern hemisphere the many pagan communities are celebrating Samhain, known by most as Halloween. It is a time of deep magick, insights and reflection. Mabon was the final harvest, the time to start pondering on the aspects of self you may wish to work on at Samhain. Now at Samhain, when it is believed the veil between the physical and spiritual worlds is thinned, we can truly work on understanding and manifesting growth for the coming year.

Samhain marks, the Witches New Year! So Happy New Year to you all!Samhain is such a strange and wonderful celebration of the dearly departed. We also remember the Holly King who is at his strength, and also the Oak King, who is growing in the womb of the Earth to be reborn at Yule. At this stage, the Oak King also acts as a dark, Underworld God, like Osiris or perhaps Hades. Samhain also represents the time of the Wild Hunt.

When the Horned God, in his form of Herne the Hunter, leads a procession of spirits, fae-folk, and elementals across the world. It is believed that the Wild Hunt could symbolise many things for those that saw it… a time of great (often catastrophic) change, the death of a loved one, or a chance to join the departed in their frollicking across the world, for those who happen to be pulled along from the dreamworld.

Samhain also represents a change in gender roles, and like the “Festival of Fools” as depicted in the Hunchback of Notre Dame, everything gets turned upside down and back to front. Men in women’s clothes, women in men’s clothes… a reversal of the gender roles and stereotypes.It is also a time of mischief making, and I feel that Samhain represents that line from the Harry Potter books/films “I solemnly swear I am up to no good”. In the ancient day you would have kids, or sometimes youth, galavanting around the township dressed in costumes, their faces hidden by masks.

It was through this celebration that two traditions became very popular in America, and to some extent Australia. These traditions are dressing up for Halloween, and the whole act of “trick or treating” as part of the Halloween celebrations. Because it is believed that the veil between the Otherworld, and the physical world is thinner, Samhain is the time of reflecting on loved ones, whether they be human or otherwise, who may have passed on. It is a time to recall the lessons of the past, to use the inspiration of the ancestors to help us step into the future with greater assurance in our strengths.It is also a wonderful time of reflecting on the mistakes our ancestors, and humanity at large, may have made.
If we remember the past, hopefully we manage to avoid making the same mistakes in the future. It is also a chance to look at customs and ideologies that we may be holding onto from the past, that no longer suit where we are in life either individually or collectively.

Many pagans/witches/wiccans often set up a “dead dinner”. They will set up a table, with cutlery, food, the whole collection, and set places at the table for the dead to join them at a feast. Or, if that is too elaborate, often they will leave some food on their altar/shrine for the ancestors, and leave the window open for easy access. Of course I am a big believer in the power of intention. If your intention is good, and you pay your respects to the Ancestors, then they will accept any offering with glee.

For those of you who are probably scratching your head in confusion (because you may not be a follower of any spirituality/faith) well let me put it this way.Would you like your descendants to remember you when you are gone from this world? Would you like your memories, and the times you shared with friends and family to be remembered? It is to this intention we celebrate Samhain.

So that our loved ones, what they stood for, their memories, live on. There is so much symbolism associated with Samhain, it positively blows my mind. What I have learned though, is that between Mabon, approaching Samhain, so much has changed so quickly. I have both grown to accept my gifts more readily, and at the same time I have watched relationships within my life transform, some falling away, others being rejuvenated.

Compare my life now, to that about six or more months ago. If anyone had suggested back then, I’d be in the place I am now spiritually I probably would have laughed at them. Or at the very least I would have thought their ponderings to be nothing more than a “possible future”. So yes, I am thankful, very much so.

 I think one of my biggest “shadows” I still need to overcome involves being able to accept praise, in any respect. Last night was a perfect example. The support and appreciation for my poem overwhelmed me a bit. I wasn’t expecting that kind of a response, so I am still a little spell-bound. 

So, who are the dearly departed I am thankful for? Well first there are my own family, my Grandfather, and my Nan, my Uncle Rob, my friend Timothy, Daphne, Ciqala, and the old family dogs Monty and Spot. Historically speaking I feel I need to give a nod of appreciation to Amergin, Chief Bard of the Milesians, and to the members of both the Farquharson Clan, and the Dukes of Hamilton. Also, Mahatma Gandhi, Harvey Milk and Buddha get my nod of deep respect and appreciation.

Also I wish to show my respect for the LGBT youth, the world over, who sadly were pushed to despair and suicide because of bullying. So to Tyler Clementi, Asher Brown and Jamey Rodemeyer…. as well as all the others out there who are sadly no longer with us. I hope you got the peace you couldn’t find in this life.

I hope that this Samhain is a special time, that you enjoy bathing in the magick and mystery of the season, that you remember the dearly departed and that you are able to look through the veil between the worlds, to seek the hidden talents you may possess, overcome any trials or tribulations you may be faced with.

And remember, in the line of Harry Potter, after all the spell-craft, rituals, dancing and celebrating… I think it’s appropriate to say.”Mischief Managed” :) 

Farewell to the Sacred Grove.

Tracks of dirt pave the way, through ravaged grasses, stone and earth.
To the place of stones, where the mysteries were birthed.
The shattered limbs of trees silent and old,
Their stories never again, to be heard or told.

You tell us that we have no authority to walk this path.
When we wander forth, in honour of the past.
 Child and youth, gone in a flash… 
As the tractors move in, their destruction for your cash.

The stones were lifted, and cast down the hill,
The tree though remained so silent and still.
I wonder if he stands there, so tall and strong?
Or if he too, has fallen to the demolisher’s song?

We took up an offering, though no chance to let it lie,

Where the fae, and the elements did dance in the sky.
Never again may we see river by the tree,
The grove is now gone a mere memory.

I remember the day, with my friends I did see,
The circle of stones, the river and the tree.
A place of gathering, of pondering and peace,
Stripped of it’s mystery, its wonder and grace.

That is what happens when man only sees,
Money and profit, from the felling of trees.
You say we have no authority to stand,
As equal as you, upon this, our land.

For the Earth is our mother, she offers us grace,
Even when in ignorance we scour her face.
Her children we slaughter, butcher and slay.
Most if left as waste, at the end of the day.

So many of you look at the natural distasters with glee
“The Saviour is coming soon enough, you’ll see”.
Such is the pondering of religious folk,
As they kill off the beasts with poison and smoke.

What is honestly more important to you?
Cash and authority that lies in the hands of a few.
Or do you wish, like me to see happen,
Reparation of the damage for the next generation?

I can only hope, and indeed pray,
That we can right our destructive way.
Before the last tree is felled, the ocean a sludge,
The last of the beasts ground into the mud. 

Well, here’s something new I am going to try… hopefully without offending too many of my Christian friends and family members. I have been pondering the bible, trying to make sense of it without having a literal take on things. I am taking it as I take most religious texts, metaphorically. Now I know I have friends that may disagree with a lot of what I write here… but this is just food for thought, and it is only my individual interpretation of things.

First of all… I wish to start at the Father… Yahweh/Jehovah, God of Abraham is the foundation, the Deity… the Creator of the Earth and the Universe in the Abrahamic Faiths. Now there is something I wish to say about Yahweh, not to disparage anyone’s faith in him.. but again, food for thought. 

As you read the bible, you get the undeniable feel that Yahweh’s personality is primarily that of a tribal God. Again, not to sound condescending, but even when Paul starts converting non-semetic people into the Christian faith, Yahweh still “feels” very tribal.  Yahweh’s primary concern throughout the Old Testament is focused primarily on the actions of his “chosen” people, the Jews. All the Commandments, the rituals, the cultural restraints are focused on keeping the Jews independent of the rituals, beliefs and practices of their neighbours, and potential rivals. 

In this context I personally do not feel that Yahweh fits the necessary requirements to be a Universal Deity, because his attitude towards those outside his “Chosen” people is largely dismissive. Even Jesus only ever taught the Jews, and it fell to the hands of the Apostle Paul, to convince the Christian Church to convert those outside the Semetic peoples. 

Do I believe that Yahweh could have been the Father of Abraham, and the God of Israel? Yes, quite possibly. Do I believe that he is the Creator of the entire world, or the universe… the answer is no.  When tribes speak of their gods creating the “world” you have to recall that their idea of what the world was, is extremely limited. Not to say that their understanding of their natural environment wasn’t sufficient for their survival or spiritual growth, but yes… it was limited in comparison to the way we understand the world.  

Hence why any references to animals in any religious text, focus primarily on those animals that were native to the area in which the texts were written. I wish to clear something up here quickly however, and this is again my personal belief. Whilst we have a greater understanding of the world, from a scientific, geological, historical and biological sense… I do believe that we have sacrificed direct experience with nature, sacrificed the mystical… and withdrawn ourselves from nature. In many ways I feel that we have lessened our experience of life for the sake of favouring human “reason” and human “rationality”.

Anyway, that’s a different topic for a different time.

I feel that Yahweh, once adopted by the Roman Empire and spread across most of Europe as the “Creator of All” wasn’t adapted to fit a more “Universal” mindset and therefore retained so much of its tribal context that the idea of Yahweh being a “Universal Deity” was left on very rocky foundations. I don’t know, many of you may disagree, but this is my interpretation after once having been part of a church, believed in Yahweh as the Creator of All, and then having left the Church.

I read the Bible now, and whilst some parts do perk my interest still, and make a lot of sense… Yahweh, the foundation of the Trinity, feels too Jewish to be a Universal Figurehead.  I feel that Yahweh, can be related to as  a pluralistic view of Divinity. The figure through which the Jewish people’s viewed and connected to that often all-encompassing essence people relate to as “Spirit”. 

Now that I’ve upset people enough over my views of the Father aspect of the Trinity, time to move onto the Son. Jesus is a delicate subject for most. He is the major point of contention between Islam, Christianity and Judaism. People have died defending Jesus, and died attempting to rebel against him. In Western History, no name sparks as much controversy in conversation as to who Jesus was, and whether or not he was able to resurrect. To those that worship him, he is the “perfect”, sinless, model for mankind to follow. For those that defy his existence, he is a point of reference whenever those non-believers choose to have a pick at the churches.

 I am going to both rebel against popular opinions of who and what Jesus was, and I am also going to support him. Here’s how. First in order to rebel against the popular opinion I have to bring up the whole topic of the Trinity being “Three people in one… both separate and inseparable all at once”. 

For those of us who hold a more dualistic perspective of the Universe, this can be tricky. How can three distinctly separate entities/personalities still be joined? I mean surely Jesus couldn’t exist and be God at the same time? Who was running the Universe while Jesus was alive? If the Holy Spirit is a Spirit, what then is the Father? Isn’t he a Spirit also?

And the questions can go on, and on, and on.

From a more “Holistic” view of the Universe I can see how Jesus could be Yahweh. In my belief spirit and matter are inseparable. The only divisions between what is spiritual, what is physical, what is natural and what is supernatural are the labels we attach to such things. Take away the labels and the divisions dissolve. In breathing the air… we breath the spirit. In every step, we are walking with spirit. In my belief everything we do, no matter how apparently mundane it is, is a spiritual action. As equally spiritual in action as it is physical in action. 

Personally when it comes to Jesus, I place him in the same category as Buddha, and other such “enlightened” sages. This may irritate some of you, but that’s fine by me, we are all entitled to believe what we will. I believe if he did exist (and remember that historically there is no definite proof for his existence), he was a human that had a deep spiritual insight, based on his upbringing and his own personal journey.  

Whether or not he actually resurrected from the dead also doesn’t concern me, because there are stories from religions all over the world of people that could do “miraculous” things and finally, if we cannot definitively prove Christ’s physical existence, then it will be so much harder proving his Divinity. My views on miracles or divine intervention is similar to Buddha’s outlook. Unless the miracle actually assists people, and helps them learn about themselves, their potential, their place in the world and overcome difficulty… then it’s not worth my time. If it’s a miracle just for show, I don’t care. 

Anyway, in the context of the Trinity… I also place Jesus in the category of the Hindu Avatar Krishna. Now an Avatar, in the context of Hinduism, is a deity in human form, who comes down to the material plain to teach humanity an important lesson when we walk too far off the path. The Hindu deity Vishnu was rather fond of the idea and had as many as ten Avatars.

In a similar fashion (if we play upon the idea that Jesus was divine), then I consider Jesus to be the “Avatar” of Yahweh, the Father.  A definition of what an Avatar is from a Hindu perspective goes something like:

-In Hinduism, the incarnation of a deity in human or animal form to counteract an evil in the world. It usually refers to 10 appearances of Vishnu, including an incarnation as the Buddha Gautama and Kalkin (the incarnation yet to come). The doctrine appears in the Bhagavadgita in the words of Lord Krishna to Arjuna: “Whenever there is a decline of righteousness and rise of unrighteousness then I send forth Myself.”-

A popular quote from Jesus:

“I and the Father are One” - John 10:30 

If we look at Jesus as an Avatar of Yahweh, does it necessarily discredit his teachings? Well no, not really. Unlike the Hindu concept of Avatar, where the Deity Vishnu returned to Earth again and again, others like Shiva have chosen never to take on the form of an Avatar, and likewise perhaps Yahweh chose to only take on the form of an Avatar once… Christ, in order to prove his love, and sacrifice… for his people.

Which brings me back briefly to my original concept of Yahweh being only a tribal perception of Divinity, rather then as the actual Creator of All as he is perceived to be today. Jesus was never said to have made mention of outwardly working to teach or warn those outside of the semetic community until the conversion of Saul/Paul. Though he did show some respect, and did help the Roman soldier… there are very few other references to Christ interacting with other peoples (from my current recollection) outside the Jewish community. 

Finally Jesus made many references that in loving him, you immediately showed love to the Father, and likewise through loving him, and by default loving the father, BOTH loved you. Which brings it around in a cycle, making it holistic in a sense. 

Adding to the holistic outlook Jesus is quoted to have said: 

“On that day you will realise  that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you,” John 14:20

The sun was high in the sky, skattered clouds floated lazily through the blanket of clear blue above. I found myself upon a hill, overlooking a fair green valley where hundreds of tents were grouped together.

I could hear the sound of singing and laughter as I started to approach the array of tents, and on inspection round-houses. As I reached the outer tents I realised that they were stretched outwards from a central round-house, which could actually be likened to a hall.

Warriors of fair complexion and an almost otherworldly aura nodded as I passed them by. Though they were armed and armoured, they seemed no more physically superior to myself. As I made my way deeper into the encampment I passed warriors that were dueling. What they lacked in muscle they made up for with balance, precision and speed. Their nimble attacks were like the striking of serpents and their eyes seemed to pick out any weakness their enemies possessed. 

It was like watching a dance.

A deeper instinct finally forced me to continue onwards and I bowed and smiled to the fae-folk as I passed them by. Just before I reached the main hall, I was stopped by one of the women. Her simple white dress, clashing with her delicate elven features, emerald green eyes, and long, fiery red hair. 

“I am Aranelle,” she greeted. Her voice was like listening to the delicate tune of wind chimes singing in a gentle breeze. “I am Ronal,” I replied, bowing in greeting.

“Ah yes,” she pondered, fixing me with a sincere and delicate smile “Little Greenleaf,” she added with a giggle.

I looked around quickly before asking “Where am I?”

One of the nearby guards fixed me with a penetrating glance “You are amongst the host of Lugh, the Shining One… Champion of the Children of Danu,” the guard answered briskly.

“The Tuatha de Danann,” I whispered more to myself than anything.

Aranelle seemed to catch my surprise and she took my right hand in her own, inspecting with an almost child-like curiousity my missing thumb, before fixing me with her laughing eyes. “Welcome home,” she said simply and then led me by the hand away from the hall.

“Lugh?” I questioned as I followed Aranelle.

“He is out in the field,” my guide replied, pulling me into a chariot besides her.

With her gentle eyes turning from me, she took the chariot reins with practiced familiarity and I found myself hanging onto the sides as Aranelle’s wild red hair few out behind her like a torch flame caught in the wind. 

As we rode she hummed to herself, a tune I could not name and it seemed as though the wind sang with her. In time we came to a wide plain. The wind made the tall grass sway like a rippling ocean. Aranelle stopped the chariot gently and then turned to me.

“Hop down little Greenleaf,” she told me, her laughing eyes flashing with amusement. “Lugh will be with you soon.”

I stepped down out of the chariot and watched as Aranelle sped away back towards the camp. She looked back once, fixing me with a shy smile before turning once more to watch the path ahead.

I was alone upon the plain, the wind flowing across my face, the light of the midday sun warming my skin. If I concentrated hard enough I could just hear the crash of the waves upon the sheer white cliffs in the distance.

Then I found, quite suddenly, that I was not alone. I was surrounded by men in armour, with brutish weapons and an aura of malice emanating from them. Where the warriors of the Tuatha de Danann were nimble, graceful, lithe and almost delicate the newcomers were muscular and brutish in comparison.

“By the Gods,” I muttered to myself as the nearest warrior advanced.

I managed with some quick-footedness, to side-step the first swing of his axe, but i knew that his next attack would not be so brash. Even as he stepped forwards to deliver the death blow, a shadow passed over us as his axe flew towards me. I closed my eyes, expecting the pain…. instead I heard an almighty crack and I opened my eyes to see the warrior fall backwards, a spear lodged firmly between his eyes.  

Light bathed us again and I looked up expecting to see the sun. It was still behind a blanket of cloud cover. Then I looked in the direction the spear had come from, turning to face a being of gold radiance that forced me to my knees.

The warriors, who moments before had wanted me dead, turned and fled. Though I was still blinded by the newcomer’s radiance, I could hear their heavy footfalls retreating into the distance.

“On yer feet lad,” the being of light said, pulling me to my feet with the ease of an adult lifting a toddler. 

I realised that the being’s radiance no longer hurt my eyes and my gaze met that of a man, seemingly no older than myself and yet… infinitely older than I.

No single depiction of Lugh came close to capturing his persona. He seemed as though he was a living, breathing embodiment of molten gold, his long braids of shimmering blond hair, fell down over his muscular shoulders and his beard and mustache were neatly groomed.

What few woad patterns he had tattooed over his bare chest, face and upper arms, shone like lines of sunlight breaking through cloud cover. His eyes seemed to shimmer between a brilliant sky blue, and a deep red of a sunset. 

His upper body, shirtless was perfectly proportioned, and he carried himself with a subtle grace, the stance of a being who was confident in any task he would take his hand to. He was at once a King, and yet behind his seemingly stern demeanor was a youthful recklessness that threatened to break through. 

He was at once a simmering ember, and a raging forest fire… perfectly balanced.

He smiled then, and his expression was like the first light of dawn, breaking through the darkness of night. I felt my knees shake and I blushed as I lowered my gaze and shifted my weight uneasily from one foot to another.

He laughed then, his voice like rumbling thunder, as he jumped from his chariot to stand before me, making me realise that he was at least seven feet tall, a giant. He ruffled my hair gently as a big brother might and walked past me to retrieve his spear.

“Aranelle should have stayed with you,” Lugh said simply, his voice emanating the same passion and vibrancy the rest of him displayed. It was the voice of a being that you would follow into the very fires of hell… and it filled me with hope and strength all at once.

“So little brother,” Lugh added, though he hadn’t formally introduced himself by name, his identity was undeniable. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“I merely wished to meet you,” I replied, somehow forming words despite the way his every move, his every word, his every glance threatened to hold me spell-bound.

“Well then,” Lugh said, walking up to me, taking me in a bear hug briefly, before patting me gently on the shoulder “nice to meet you brother Greenleaf.”

“My Lord,” I began “where those warriors Fomorians?” I asked. Lugh fixed me with a penetrating glance and after a few seconds of silence approached the fallen warrior, removing its helm.

The face, caked in drying blood, staring back at me… was my own. I fought for some sense to the scenario, but found nothing. “You find yourself fighting old battles over and over little brother,” Lugh stated bluntly.

“I don’t know how to stop it!” I said somewhat dejectedly.

“You are not persistent enough,” Lugh began, his voice carrying an no-nonsense tone to it… straight to the point. “Rather then face the issues with a warrior’s spirit you try and heal the situation from a distance,” he paused briefly “You need to stop running, stop trying to bury the issues… you need to burn them away. Fight the darkness with light, bring back the balance… then heal yourself,” he instructed.

“But…” I began to retort, somewhat lamely. Lugh raised a palm to silence me.

“You became afraid of fighting the moment the Hunter allowed his paranoia and fundamentalist fire to consume him,” Lugh interjected “You became afraid of fighting because you are afraid you’d end up just like him.”

Lugh approached me slowly, placing a hand on either shoulder. I looked at my feet, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Look at me Greenleaf,” Lugh said gently, though it could have been a command for the power he held in his voice.

I looked into his eyes and they shone like twin suns, orbs of gold-white fire.

“In all your long years of fighting. Whether it was against yourself, against those who misunderstood you, stick fighting, protesting… you fought with honour, or with as much honour as each new situation demanded,” he grinned then “you fought not only to uphold the honour and dignity of yourself and your supporters when you had them, but that of your opponents yourself. So no, you are not like the Hunter and you never will  be,” he finished.

“But there were so many similarities between us,” I whispered in response.

“Remember,” Lugh responded, fixing me with another radiant smile “When crunch time came and you had your choice to follow him down his road, you chose a different path… your own path.”

“Sometimes… a lot of the time… I question if it is the right one,” I sighed.

“What does your heart-fire say?” Lugh asked gently.

“It is the right one,” I replied “It has brought me home.”

Lugh’s smile was radiant as he ruffled my hair one last time before leaping into his chariot. He held up his spear in salute and then vanished in an explosion of gold-white light.

The sun finally broke through the clouds and bathed the field in gold light. At my feet was a blade and as I picked it up to examine it… Lugh’s voice echoed across the plain.

“Sometimes we are called to battle. Sometimes the inner flame must be allowed to burn away the residue. If you feel the fire is too hot, remember the other elements, for they help uphold the sacred balance.” 

 

So about a week or so ago, I had the privilege of attending the OBOD (Order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids) Seed group meetup at the Hackney Hotel. It was a wonderful opportunity to not only catch up with a few familiar faces but also to make new friends.

We started the night with a light meal, a general chit-chat and then everyone was able to share their personal stories in regards to how they came to understand Druidry as a spiritual path, and how they personally integrated Druidry within their own lives.

There was discussion of hopefully having a place for people to hand in poetry, storytelling and the possibilities put forth at the meeting were extremely encouraging. I think it was also a testament to the group dynamics that people just seemed to settle in, without feeling awkward or unwanted.

After our general pub meal and chit chat we all wandered off outside the the nearby park for a group ritual. We found the perfect spot, a nice green hill, with a tree on top. After having set up our space we sat down and spoke, on what arrangements people felt could be made in the future.

Nature, as always, provided us with a “talking stick” which helped everyone have their fair share of conversation and helped ensure that everyone’s voices were heard equally. There was discussion on OBOD, how those members felt the course had changed their life.

From my perspective, not being an official member of OBOD, I felt the group gathering had a lot of potential. Everyone at that Seed Group had ideas to share, did so in a constructive and encouraging manner, and everyone was given a choice to voice questions or concerns (not that there were many of those!)

In a similar manner to my first Spiral Dance concert, back in November. This group had a certain “homely” feel to it. I personally look forwards to continuing these get togethers, and I am sure that many, many others are as enthusiastic as I am about growing together.

————————————————————————————————————————————————-

The air was fresh. The candles were placed in their quarters, and under the shade of the tree, close to the grass, close to the Earth Mother we sat. A time of chanting, a time of sharing, a time when inspiration flowed. Under the light of the stars, and the deep blanket of the night sky we pondered at possibility.

Ours was a gathering of potential, of Inspiration, the Awen flowing gently and wonderfully through our hearts, minds and spirits. Here in the sacred space, all felt welcomed, refreshed and invigorated. Dreams, life lessons, spiritual insights were shared. Possibly hurdles and restrictions to progress were pondered.

Dreams and ideas were expressed, given out into the group, and voiced in the night like sparks of brilliant light. As the night of sharing ended, the candles dimmed, we shared some food and drink and gave thanks to each other and to those who we individually connected with on a spiritual level.

The body lay still within the grove, the once proud Oak King laid low at last, his reign ended. I stood there, looking down at the being that had once been so strong, and now, whose once proud crown was rotten and trodden into the cold earth.

The spear was gone, absorbed back into the Earth Mother, the moment the Holly King pierced his heart with his own ancient spear. The Oak King’s throne too, was little more than rotten fragments of it’s old splendour.

As I stood there, looking upon the fallen King, I noticed that the silence in the grove was as absolute as the silence of a cemetery. No birds sang, no wind could be heard rustling the leaves and a thick fog began forming at the perimeter of the grove.

Then she appeared, at my left shoulder, a dark hood covering her face, shrouding it in shadow. “He is long departed,” she said simply, resting a gentle hand on my shoulder. It felt strange that the Morrighan would be here and I looked at her quizzically.

Whether she could sense my questions or not, she remained silent for a moment, looking down at the still, cold form of the Oak King, it’s tattered cloak already rotting away.


“It is as it always has been,” the Morrighan stated, to no one in particular it seemed. Then she turned to face me directly, her gaze penetrating. “You must come with me,” she said giving my shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“Go where?” I asked.

“We got to follow the spirit of the Oak King deep into the womb of the Earth Mother. I warn you now that it is not a journey for the faint hearted and you will be required to take on the form of your own protective animal spirit for a large duration of the journey,” she explained.

“Is it going to be dangerous?” I questioned, a little uncertain of where, and why I was going to be asked to go to a place of possible threat.

“Danger… is a word I would not use. But then what is considered dangerous for one, may not be for another. I will leave it within your own experience to decide for yourself if you consider it dangerous,” she replied, her cryptic response doing very little to calm my nerves.

“You will protect me though right? If need be?” I asked.

She smiled then, a strange motherly warmth flickering momentarily across her face. “If I feel that it is necessary to do so, then yes, I will intercede,” she paused though, seeming to ponder something then she spoke again “You must stay close to me. Do not lose sight of me. Now little raven, spread your wings and follow me.”

Instantly I felt my body changing, twisting, reshaping itself. Then I found myself flying, carried along besides the Morrighan on my own black wings. She too had taken on the form of a Raven, one that was bigger than me, and it seemed to almost flicker in and out of my vision, like a great black phantom.

It was difficult to follow, for as we rose out of the grove, leaving the body of the Oak King, we found ourselves in the middle of a tempest. Lightning, hail, rain and wind all attempted to knock me out of the sky and for a moment I feared I had lost sight of the Morrighan completely.

{Do not let doubts shadow the course of your intentions,} her voice barked into my mind {Focus… realise that this storm will only intensify if you feed it with your fears. It is mere illusion and you must see it as such if you wish to pass through it!}

I focused then… only on the Morrighan’s raven form, and though the storm itself howled around me, I found that the strength of the wind no longer threatened to tear me screaming from the sky. Even the few bolts of lightning that struck my own form passed through me, blinding me momentarily, but little more.

“What is the storm for?” I asked as I caught up with the Morrighan.

“Merely one of the many barriers we pass through in life. Often we enter stormy periods and often those stormy periods are not ever truly as hospitable as they seem to be on first approach,” she explained.

We flew along for a while, through the grey sky, and then the Morrighan dropped down, and I followed her closely. I found myself flying among a mountain range, snow capped peaks of immense height.

Then I saw our destination, a gateway seemingly cut into the mountain by an immense axe. As we landed by the cave entrance we both resumed human forms. The Morrighan lead the way into the cave turning quickly just within the entrance to give a brief lesson “On entering here, there will be no light. At least no light that mortal eyes will perceive. Light the way with your intuition and spirit, for this is the gateway into the Mother’s Womb…”

I followed her, and for a time I had to feel my way along the cave wall, treading carefully and lightly so as not to disturb anything. At first the tunnel was just an all consuming darkness.

“Concentrate Greenleaf,” the Morrighan commanded, and then waited close by as I sent out my intention to be able to see in the dark. It was like having night vision and I gasped in surprise.

The Morrighan nodded, seemingly satisfied with my achievement and then continued leading me down further into the mountain. Time passed, and it felt like it was ages, because the tunnel seemed to go on and on. Eventually though it opened up into an immense chamber.

Within the centre of the chamber was a brilliant ball of light. No larger than an acorn. But it blazed with the light of the sun. “If you were looking on this with mortal eyes, you would be blind,” the Morrighan stated.

“What is it?” I asked, standing close to the Morrighan, though I felt drawn to the seed of light.

“This is simply the essence of the Oak King, free of its physical manifestation. Here it will repair itself, and take shape within this chamber, within the Mother’s womb, till the time of its rebirth. What you see before you is the essence of the Mabon, the essence of the child of promise…. awaiting rebirth at Yule,” she responded.

“Such a small light…” I pondered.

“All intentions start small,” the Morrighan noted “some dreams start as nothing more or less than a flicker of thought. A brief pondering. Often we do not understand, and cannot comprehend the impact that a single thought will have on our lives, nor how far reaching our intentions and the actions attached to that intention will be.”

We stood there, looking upon the little seed of light. Then it seemed, from the walls of the chamber we could hear a humming. “The Mother Sings for her child… as all mothers do,” the Morrighan said smiling, her expression reflective.

Then she moved back towards the chamber entrance “We must be leaving. There is one last place to see,” she said, motioning for me to follow. As we climbed up to the surface the Earth Mother’s gentle humming pulsed through our minds.

This time however, when we reached the surface we were again back in a forest. A forest caught in the grip of autumn. Gold leaves, and a brilliant sunset that seemed to make the forest floor shimmer with a brilliant fire. Again the Morrighan led the way, her dark form seeming out of place in the brilliance of the gold leaves and silver bark.

Again I found myself at the edge of a grove. The Morrighan stopped then, and hugged me quickly, the motion seeming so out of place with her pale skin, and grim eyes gazing upon me.

“Beyond is the Throne of the Holly King. He wished to see you,” the Morrighan explained. “So I leave you here, for now,” and without awaiting a response she faded out of sight.

I entered the grove then, and found myself face to face with the Holly King. He had all manner of winter creature and winter faerie about him. They fell silent as I approached, and stepped back from his throne.

“Greenleaf!” the Holly King’s voice boomed, his eyes flashing with joy “Welcome to my humble abode.I heard you were wandering to the womb of the Earth Mother to look upon the seed of light. So how was the trip?” his smile was grandfatherly, and he looked in the face like every depiction of Father Christmas I had ever seen.

In place of what would usually be the red suit of Christmas, was a forest green robe, inlaid with golden spirals and the patterns of holly leaves and berries. On looking close enough I could almost believe that they were real.

Sensing my wonder, the Holly King reached out his sleeve, tugged at one of the holly leaf patterns and then he stepped down from his throne, walked up to me and handed me an actual holly leaf. I noticed as I caught it, that the place where the holly leaf pattern had been on his cloak had vanished.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, and the Holly King chuckled and ruffled my hair joyously, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“Any time kid,” the King replied, pausing briefly and then adding “Winter is upon you now, the Oak King is no more… at least until his season comes again. Remember child that I am not evil, that winter is not evil. It is merely the balancing element. Darkness is mystery, the unknown and the unexplainable.”

I nodded.

“People get angry, and upset…. jealous and hateful when they get caught up in a place or a circumstance that is outside their understanding or control. If you find yourself in such situations, now is the time to ask me for guidance. I will gladly help you find within yourself the necessary tools to cope with, unravel, or let go of the circumstance,” the Holly King said.

“You look like Santa,” I said in response, and again he flashed me a jolly grin.

“Tell me child… who looks like who? Do I look like the Santa of your childhood? Or does he look like me? Most importantly however is… does it really matter?” the Holly King replied.

“I guess not,” I said simply.

“Good lad,” the Holly King said chuckling. “Alas Little Greenleaf our time together is short. I must say though that whether or not I am “Santa” or he is me… either way magic and mystery, joy and merriment, sharing and caring exist as elements of the season. As the cold closes in, be thankful for family, for friends and for all the relationships within your life that makes your existence just that little bit more magical.”

Then there was a flash of brilliant white light. And I found myself back in the original grove, where the Oak King’s body had lain. Yet now his body was no longer there, it had dissolved into the Mother… leaving behind a single little acorn that seemed to glow with a small inner light.

A dim pulse that matched the rate of my own heartbeat. As I bent to pick it up I recalled the words of the Morrighan:

“Often we do not understand, and cannot comprehend the impact that a single thought will have on our lives, nor how far reaching our intentions and the actions attached to that intention will be.”

It’s time again for another episode of… name your seasonal festival. This time its the Mabon, the Autumn Equinox… the second harvest festival (the first being Lughnasadh).

It is the grape Harvest, symbolised by the deity Mabon, the child of promise. It is also a time of reflecting upon the continual struggle between the Oak King, and the Holly King.Admittedly, as far as seasonal festivals goes, Mabon is actually rather difficult to research.

Mainly because so many sources say the same thing, which is very little in comparison to other festivals. I mean look up Yule or Samhain and you end up with Candy Canes and Jack-o-lanterns all over the place.

This is the third seasonal festival I personally have celebrated. In our own gathering, we focused on the cycle between the Oak King and the Holly King.

Now I need to refresh my previous Litha Blog… and correct a misconception and confusion with the Oak King/Holly King Cycle. I think the way to do this is to list each holiday, and list where the Oak King and Holly King cycles connect.

Samhain - Oak King is in the Underworld, Holly King is middle aged.
Yule - Oak King reborn, Holly King older
Imbolc - Oak King/Holly King Fight
Ostara - Oak King takes his crown, Holly King Dies.
Beltaine - Oak King is Youth, Holly King in the Underworld.
Litha - Oak King older, Holly King Reborn
Lammas/Lughnasadh - Oak King/Holly King fight.
Mabon - Holly King takes his crown, Oak King Dies

Now if you recall in my Litha blog I stated that the Holly King takes the crown then… and I apologise. The Holly King was reborn at Litha.

Anyway… as one can see from the cycle. Mabon is the time when the Holly King kills the Oak King, and takes up the crown. The Oak King’s spirit is separated from his body, and he starts the descent into the underworld… into the womb of the Earth Mother to be reborn at Yule.

From this symbolism we can distinguish a few intriguing things. First of all is the victory of the Holly King over the Oak King… the darker half of the year has arrived. The earth grows colder, some animals go into hibernation, trees lose their leaves, the sky turns grey and you can smell rain on the air.

Secondly… with the death of the Oak King also comes the symbolism of separation. Severing away of the old. Mabon can be a time of great reflection. A time to look at aspects of one’s life that may no longer serve one’s purpose and cut it away.

Also, there is the emphasis on the Oak King’s descent into the Otherworld, a focus on the spiritual, the mysterious, and the unknown. Now whether you choose to use these symbolisms as stories, as spiritual lessons, or archetypal ideologies… the essence is the same.

Lughnasadh was a time to focus predominately on the bounties of the Earth Mother… the physical and spiritual harvest. On Mabon however we turn our attention from the harvest (though still being mindful of it) and turn our attention to the darker aspects of our lives.

In a way, I personally see Mabon as a time of reflection, and Samhain (the next festival) as a time of action. At Mabon we turn our attention towards those aspects of ourselves we perhaps wish to change, maybe wish to understand, or wish to confront, in preparation for Samhain when we can act on them with an overview of the entire situation.

Now another thing I wish to write here. The Holly King is not “evil”. In this cycle there neither are considered “good”, nor “evil”. The Oak and Holly Kings can be seen as dual aspects of the Horned God (Cernunnos, Pan, Herne)… or if you wish, you can see them as symbols for the “light” and “dark” aspects of ourselves.

When we find ourselves balanced emotionally, spiritually, materially and in balance with those about us, and within circumstances, then we deal with life with greater effectiveness.

The changing of the seasons, and in this mythos, the changing of rulership between the Oak and Holly Kings is a great metaphor that allows us to reflect, on a seasonal basis, the different aspects of our life. Another interesting thing about Mabon specifically is that in Europe, the season was often celebrated by having a toast of wine… Something I found interesting because it connects, perhaps strangely enough, with the Christian Communion.

Now I am not going to debate which came first. I’ll just leave it there as food for thought. Something else you can ponder over as you evaluate the different elements that require understanding and mindful discernment.

The descent of the Oak King into the Underworld represents the planting of potential. The Oak King is the Child of Promise, the Mabon. As he descends, so too can our own aspirations be “planted” and left to lie in the “womb” of the Mother to be reborn at Yule.

So, plant your intentions, let them lie dormant for a time… then hopefully your dreams and intentions will manifest by Yule. The Meditative Story will be in part 2 :)