Fat cakes and kittens

Last week the kids started back at school for the new school year (and a new school for Tom – he started high school!), and it so happened that we made our celebrations for Lùnastal (on the "Old Style" date, seeing as the weather's kinda weird at the moment and the fruits are taking their time) in the run up to the holidays finishing. We did the usual cleaning and tidying from top to bottom, inside and out, and had the requisite feast and games, with a thorough saining for good measure. 

The next day we went into the neighbouring tourist-trap town and had a Proper Good Ice-cream Sundae, as has become our annual end of summer holidays tradition. And we picked up Oscar's medication from the vets, because Oscar is apparently engaged in an epic and seizure-inducing battle against the demons under the living room carpet epileptic. (Thankfully we're getting the kinks worked out and the right dosage sorted now, and he's doing a lot better; it's been a bit of a bumpy ride this past year). And we booked Coco in for his first round of vaccinations. Yes: we have a new addition to the family, our very own ginger ninja (cue shameless excuse to post a cute photo of a kitten):

Oscar is a happy puppy, having finally succeeded in making friends with a cat for the first time in his life. His greatest ambition has been achieved. Their favourite pastime is playing Bitey Face together. Coco doesn't seem to mind Oscar's doggy death breath.

With new school years, new schools, new uniforms, and new routines for the kids, times are changing round these parts. The seasons, however, seem to be stuck in a weird flux between summer hanging on for dear life as long as possible, while autumn valiantly tries to barge its way in. Meanwhile, a few brambles have decided it's time to ripen but the bulk of the harvest has a way to go just yet, and I'm holding off on trying to pick any just yet (you can't beat a good apple and bramble crumble).

So while we're waiting, I decided maybe it would be a good idea to make some fat cakes to put out for the birds. It's something I usually do over the winter, but seeing as I had a new mould I wanted to try out, I decided why not whip up a batch a little early:



I was originally intending to use the mould to make some wee homemade candles – ones that aren't too big, so I can burn them in one go. The wicks I've ordered are taking forever to arrive, though, so I figured the individual triskeles would make a nice offering to put out (I forgot we have a brain mould... those would've been cool, too).

I'm always conscious of the fact that while birds will usually eat pretty much anything, not everything they'll eat is necessarily good for them nutritionally, so I like to put bird-food out as often as I can. If they're going to eat my offerings, I might as well try and give them a balanced diet, you know? So I mixed some bird seed in with some melted suet until the proportions seemed about right and left them to cool and harden – they don't take long. Rosie, who was off sick on Friday (schools being little more than germ factories, really), helped. We also made a cow and a star, which are considerably bigger and we'll keep those to put out later.

As it is, the crows seem to be enjoying the triskeles, and I'm sure once the weather clears up the smaller birds will be out in force as well. In the meantime, we're just waiting for the blackberries to ripen. It looks like it will be a good harvest this year, they're just taking foreeeeeever.

New video! New(ish) article! Daily Rites in Gaelic Polytheism

So as we announced over on the Gaol Naofa site last week (yes I'm way behind on things...), we've got a new video out:

And also a new (or at least improved) Daily Rites article to accompany it, which now has a number of prayers offered in both Gaelic and English translation. To be honest, there was no particular rhyme or reason in choosing to do this particular subject right now, aside from the fact that it seemed like a good idea to continue the more practical theme like our last video on Offerings in Gaelic Polytheism had.

I'm really not sure when the original Daily Rites article was written (I'm pretty sure it was before my time as a member of the GN council), but for the sake of those who prefer the original prayers given there, we've archived that version of the article on the site, and it's cross-referenced to the new version, too. Kathryn took charge of the article's overhaul of the piece, and I think the contrast between the prayers given in the original version, and the ones that Kathryn chose to adapt from the Carmina Gadelica in the new version, gives a good contrast and illustration of how different people have different styles.

When I was first starting to explore CR and then Gaelic Polytheism specifically, the idea of daily prayers seemed kind of restrictive and off-putting. Coming from a completely secular background it was a concept that was alien to me, and it seemed kind of dull... Wouldn't it get boring and become rote? But I kept coming back to the idea for reasons I've never really fully understood, aside from the undeniable urge that I should, and eventually I started looking at the kinds of prayers that were out there, that maybe I could adapt or work with in coming up with some of my own. After a bit of fiddling around I found a routine that felt like it was a good fit, and since I started I've not stopped, really. It was a gradual process as I figured things out, but now I say the same prayers every day (or night...) – at the very least I will pray each night, just as I've got into bed and I'm lying down, since that's most comfortable for me – and it's become an integral part of my bedtime routine now. Even when I'm absolutely exhausted I find it hard to get to sleep until I've said them now.

I think it's important that the prayers we say as part of our practice have meaning to us, and they flow from the heart. My preference is for the more traditional, like the ones we've given in the new article, and the ones I have over on Tairis, but I also tend to add in prayers of my own making, too – off the cuff prayers that aren't poetic, perhaps, but they're no less heartfelt or meaningful. But the traditional types of prayers – the same words I say over and over again from year to year – form the barebones of my daily routine.

I'm sure the idea of a daily routine of prayer doesn't appeal to some people and I don't think it's the only way things should or can be done. For one, there are simple traditions and customs that can become a part of your day, too... It doesn't make anyone lesser, or greater, just because of what they do or don't do, though. Religion isn't a competition or a pissing contest, you know? Or it shouldn't be. I'm sure a lot of people do maintain a daily routine of some sort, even if it doesn't follow a particular outline or isn't even a conscious thing. Maybe somedays or most days the sum total is little more than a mental "hey."

What matters is that it works for the individual, and that – at its core – it helps maintain that connection with An Trì Naomh. It's about being mindful of who you are, who you honour. I've seen some people say they try to keep up a daily routine of some sort but somedays, for whatever reason, it just doesn't happen and then there's a sense of guilt or failure, and it becomes hard to get back into the routine because the sense of whatever starts to snowball... But we're only human, after all. We all have our limits and if it happens, it's OK. If it keeps happening, maybe it's better to scale things back a bit and go easier; don't bite off more than you can chew. At the end of the day... Just do you.

Tairis has (finally) been updated...

As I mentioned a few posts ago, I was hoping to – finally – get on with fixing Tairis. It was obvious, by this point, that "fixing" it meant basically starting from scratch, and (ta da!) that's exactly what I've had to do.

Over the last two or three weeks (I've honestly lost track...) I've been moving everything over onto a brand new Wordpress. The new site is now live and you should find the following fixes and improvements:

Front page blog

Instead of a static home page I've decided to use a blog format so I can post and keep track of any updates as necessary. You'll find a bit of waffle about the changes I've made there, too. I'll still do my main blogging here, though.

New pages and some overhauled/re-written pages

It's hard to resist fiddling about with stuff, especially given the fact that some of the articles were first written almost ten years ago now. In those ten years I've had a bit more practice at writing, learned a whole lot more about Gaelic Polytheism, and the internet has opened up a huge amount of resources that I didn't have at my fingertips way back when. Because of that, some of the pages have simply been smoothed out and given a bit of spit and polish – editing out the clunkier bits of writing – while others have been almost completely rewritten or at least majorly overhauled. Some of the pages I feel could still do with scrapping and starting again but I just don't have the time to tackle them given everything I've got going on. Maybe that will happen in future.

The major overhauls/rewrites that are worth noting:

• The Celebrations section has been majorly rewritten
• As has the Offerings page
• The Types of Offerings has been overhauled
• The Gaelic has been added to the prayers in the Daily Practices section (and the 'thees and thous' removed from the translations)
• Updates have been made to the liturgy outlined in the Practices section, too

New pages include:

Making a cros Bríde – including an overview of the history and practices associated with them
Celebrating Yule – now in addition to Hogmanay

For the cros Bríde page, this includes an example of an Irish prayer that's traditionally used in hanging up the crosses, which I was pretty excited to find in an article I stumbled across. Before now I've only seen such prayers referred to in passing, with no specific examples given.

I've also removed the Article Downloads page from the Resources section. Given the fact that Google Scholar and JSTOR have opened up so many more articles than I can ever keep up with, it seems pointless to maintain this one.

Slightly different ordering and new sections/names

This one's fairly minor but I've changed around the order of some of the sections. The section on Life Passages comes after Festivals and Celebrations now (I feel like it flows better, from the day to day stuff, to the seasonal stuff, to life events), and the section named Gods is now called An Trì Naomh to reflect the fact that it encompasses not just the gods but also the spirits and ancestors.

I've also added in a completely new section – Values – where I've moved the four-part article on Values, and the article on Gessi and Buada. These were originally housed in the Cosmology section, but that was rather large and unwieldy so splitting things up seemed to make more sense. The Values section now follows on from Cosmology.

Fixed footnotes

Updating the site has been a big job, mainly thanks to the huge amount of footnotes I've got on there. While I'd rather err on the side of caution and make it easy for people to look up stuff if they want to (never take my word for it, right?) there are a lot of footnotes. Which is never more apparent than when you're having to code every single one by hand. Now, however, in addition to actually working again, you can also hover over the footnote number and you'll get a preview of what the footnote says below. You'll still have to click down for any links there, but it should be a lot more convenient now.

A more consistent focus

Seeing as it's been nearly ten years since I started the site, a lot's changed in that time. In particular, identity politics and labels have evolved within the wider Celtic Reconstructionist community and those labels are something I struggled with in the beginning. To start with, when I first began writing stuff for Tairis, I used "CR." Then I began to use "Scottish Reconstructionism" as well as CR because I wanted to be more specific. And then, when Gaol Naofa was founded and they began using "Gaelic Polytheism," I came to feel that was the better term and switched to that. Apparently I didn't change everything on the site to make it all consistent, though, so I've gone through everything and tweaked the bits that needed tweaking: Gaelic Polytheism it is.

New links

Unfortunately this isn't an improvement per se, but it is a necessity. Moving the site over to Wordpress means that all the link paths are different now, so if you link to any articles on the site I'm afraid they're going to be broken now. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience!

*   *   *   *

I hope you find these changes are (mostly) for the better. If you don’t, older versions of the site can be accessed on archive.org, where you’ll be able to find the original versions of rituals or articles. So there's always that...

There's still a bit to do, however. I'm not entirely happy with the menu system, but with almost 115 articles on the site there are just too many to make the current menu bar house them all with drop-down sub-menus. I think it cuts off after a hundred articles, and then it shows everything in alphabetical order instead of the order I want to appear in (and it does with several themes I've tried so I think Wordpress is basically telling me that I talk too much). So my resident webmonkey husband is looking into finding a widget or something that might help with that. In the meantime, I'll work on putting up a site map.

Cluttering up the place

One of the first things I did when we moved into the house we live in now – back in 2008 – was do all the nesting, the decorating, and the making the place ours. A lot of that involved a painting and wallpapering, getting out in the garden to give it a good overhaul, and taking the opportunity to splurge on furniture, and so on. The usual stuff.

The layout of the house meant that we could also finally find a decent spot for a huge bookshelf Mr Seren took a fancy to some years ago, when we moved into our first house together. It's an antique camel cart that's been adapted into a bookshelf, and it probably quite literally weighs a ton, and two houses later we finally had a place for it to sit, rather than having it dumped somewhere unceremoniously (in the porch of all places, in our previous house). We set it up in the kitchen-dining room, and I decided to dedicate one of the shelves as my shrine area. As the heart of the house, it seemed more appropriate to set it up in the kitchen than on the mantlepiece of the fireplace in the living room (and in a practical sense, the shelf was more out of the way from sticky fingers than the mantlepiece, so nothing would get broken).

Initially, I didn't have much to put on the shelf, so it looked quite sparse. I set it up like this:

But I found pretty quickly that most of the plants needed more light than the space could offer them, so a bit of rejigging was necessary (a few more unpacked boxes brought up more things to add, too). Over the years, though, I added more and more bits and pieces – gifts that were sent by wonderful friends, things I found as I went out and about, and some pieces I made myself as the fancy took me. Some of those ended up outside too, as I set up a shrine area up by the rowan tree I planted, with a 'pond,' a small cairn dedicated to my ancestors, space for offerings, some plants that relate to the festivals or my ancestors, some decorative pieces, and so on.

But inside, on my shelf, things have become rather cluttered over the years, and I've now ended up with this:

The plate at the front there is for offerings, and I've replaced the plaque from my granddad, that I originally put on there, because I realised wasn't sure what metal it's made from. I decided to remove it in case there was any iron in it – it seemed bad form. So I've replaced it with a small matchbox that used to belong to my grandparents, and which sat on a table of stuff for years. I loved the decoration on it as a kid, so when I found out that mum was going to dump it at a charity shop on my last visit to hers, I decided to 'rescue' it. There's the fossil I found one Midsummer at the beach, the hobhouse and the 'bile' candle holder I made, the Cryptic Crow that takes pride of place and represents Badb, and some protective charms like amber, red coral, rowan berries, and the rowan charms I've made over the years (that are more decorative than the ones I usually do):

I put the skull lights up for Samhainn one year. The kids insisted they should stay up.

You can't quite see it in the full-shelf picture, but just next to the dealbh Brìde we made this year, Rosie's put another one that she made all by herself out of pipe cleaner, sticky tape, feathers and some decorative charms that 'accidentally' came off some pen lids. Things keep mysteriously appearing on the shelf now that Rosie's tall enough to reach, and so long as things don't mysteriously disappear, that's OK by me. Occasionally she rearranges the cows because apparently they're busy having adventures, which are played out on the shelf, and if the kids had their way any empty space would would be overrun with rocks and shells from the beach. As it is, we've reached a compromise on that and their collection lives on one of the shelves below.

Last Samhainn I had the urge to make some more stuff for the shelf, and given the ancestral theme for the festival I'd been thinking about the kind of thing I could do that tied in with that, but in a way that fitted with the kind of iconography you find throughout the ages. A way of fitting in with the whole continuum, as it were. So I decided on a triskele from Newgrange, a picture of which (from the actual place) Rosie decided to have on her Wall of Wonder in her room:

So it's a little bespoke, but my little helper (Rosie) insisted it was finished the way it is. As I traced the swirls free-hand it provided a good focus for meditation and contemplation about things, and it got me in the mood for the festivities.

In my regular observances I only really make offerings at the shelf when the weather isn't suitable for doing that outdoors – I prefer to make offerings outside – although Rosie's taken to putting flowers like dandelions or daisies up there for Brìde. For festivals in particular I tend to perform the bulk of my observances at the shelf, since the focus of them is on the home and the household, but I also like to go outside then as well. It feeds kind of politer, going outside to greet the spirits of the place and make offerings of peace to them on their own turf, as it were, and I prefer to look for signs and omens outside than taking ogham (though I occasionally do that too). On a daily basis I prefer to look outside and see what the day might bring as I take a moment to offer up a prayer in the morning, rather than go to the shelf, although longer observances and saining are often done at the shelf.

A shrine isn't necessary, to me, but I do think it can help as a focus. It helps me articulate my beliefs and my relationship with the world around me. It's a microcosm, in that sense, and maintaining it, adding to it, helps to express how things change as well – seasonally, with decorations that reflect the time of year or the festival, and on a broader scale, too.

Ritual and tradition are closely aligned - two sides of the same coin, really - but when we talk about the two in a Celtic Reconstructionist (or perhaps more specifically, a Gaelic Polytheist) context, it seems like they're often talked about as separate things: one greater, the other lesser. By that, I mean that the kinds of traditions we might observe on an everyday basis - although perhaps (or potentially) ritualistic in themselves - are somehow seen as "lesser" to the kind of rituals we participate in at festivals, because these are perhaps seen as being more "formal" and therefore more important.

It's the timing that's key, I suppose.

It's not something that's articulated explicitly by anyone, I don't think, but on reflection I do get the feeling that there's a kind of general assumption there, especially when you consider how much attention the festivals get compared to daily practices (on the one hand), and then the kind of customs and traditions that also fill up our lives. I suppose it's understandable - festivals are special occasions, after all. But to a certain extent there's a danger that too much focus is placed on one area when there should be a more balanced approach.

When I think about the kind of rituals I do, they're mostly simple things. Prayer. Offerings. Observing certain customs and traditions. We say it's traditional to prayers at certain times of the day - when we get up, when we go to bed, and so on. So we do. It's traditional to make offerings as part of our ritual observances; it's part of how we build a reciprocal relationship with the gods, spirits and ancestors. So we do that, too. It's traditional to do things in a deiseil direction, where possible. It's traditional to sing as you go about your tasks, so often I do, in an off key kind of way when there's no one around to annoy (except when you cook; you shouldn't sing when you cook). Feasting can be a ritual - sharing food is important. Offering hospitality is a serious tradition, too. These things can become little rituals in themselves - whether they're accompanied by prayer or offering and a set, formal liturgy and format, or not - because they're rooted in the underlying values and beliefs of our religion. They symbolise and articulate the way we view our relationship with the world around us. Big or small, greater or lesser,  they all have the same roots.

The prayers, the offerings, the traditions can underpin more formal or elaborate rituals too - the longer rituals, more involved, the kind of thing that's written out and memorised, prepared for in advance. So it's the little things, isn't it, that add up to become big things. Without them we have nothing to build on.

There are often complaints that there aren't enough rituals shared between Gaelic Polytheists, and certainly that can be a problem - if anything, because if you're new to it all then it's never a bad thing to find a few pointers in the right direction. Then again, if we want meaningful ritual in our lives maybe it helps to remember that we shouldn't overlook the "little" things, either. Little acorns, mighty oaks and all that...

Out and about

I took a walk in the woods at the weekend and conveniently forgot to charge the battery in the camera...But luckily things were so exciting (LOOK AT THE LEAVES, MUM!!!) Rosie wanted to go again yesterday, and it wasn't like the dogs would complain, was it?

This time I remembered to charge the camera battery in advance, all the better to capture the colours of autumn:

Crunchy leaves underfoot.

Mushrooms!

Moss...

And red red hawthorn berries.

Sometimes it's the simple things, like showing a five-year-old that sycamore seeds fall like "helicopters" (and I suspect a couple of helicopters might have been buried in the garden by now...), that bring the greatest joy.

A general guide to getting started

So you've read the CR FAQ and the brand spanking new Gaol Naofa FAQ along with a few other bits and pieces (oh, I dunno, like my site? How about the rest of Gaol Naofa, too? All good places to look, if I do say so myself...). You think you've got the basics down, and you think this is the right kind of path for you. You want to start doing stuff, but...where do you start?

I thought perhaps putting out a few thoughts together on this might come in handy for the beginner (although I can only claim the following to be my opinion); things are better than when I was starting out, but I think it can all still be a little bewildering for those who are still trying figure things out. Getting into the swing of Gaelic Polytheist practice can be a bit of a jarring experience at first, because part of the process involves getting used to an entirely different take on day-to-day life. So the first bit of advice I'd give is: Go at your own pace. Do what you're comfortable with, and build on it as quickly or as slowly as you feel works for you.

The second bit of advice I'd give is: Step away from the Llewellyn-type books. Any neopagan books, really. Seriously. Modern pagan books on 'Celtic' paganisms may offer some ideas and easy answers, but they are all terrible as far as research is concerned - even the ones that are better than most. They are almost always aimed at a Wiccan or wiccanesque audience, which is not a bad thing if you're Wiccan or wiccanesque in belief and practice, but Celtic Reconstructionism doesn't come under that particular umbrella. In many respects, CR's outlook, approaches and beliefs are diametrically opposed to those of Wicca or Wiccan-derived paths. Ultimately, and perhaps most importantly, what you find in them has nothing to do with what you're now trying to put into practice, so it's kinda like looking to Catholicism in order to learn about being Mormon...Or whatever analogy fits best there...

The best place to start is with daily practices. Gaol Naofa has a good article on this, with some practical ideas, and I've given a few rambling ideas too, including a bit of rambling about the kind of sources you can look at to make your own prayers. It's good to get into the habit of making daily devotions because these can help you keep centred and connected. Prayers can be said anywhere - in the morning, over a coffee before you leave for work or school, before bed, during your morning run, or while you lie in bed mustering the will to get up and start the day. Even as you make your breakfast, lunch or dinner, clean the house; there are all kinds of different rites you can incorporate into your day. This article on Prayer in Gaelic Polytheism over at Gaol Naofa is especially helpful on the finer points of how and why we pray as Gaelic Polytheists, and it's well worth a read.

It can help to have your own space set aside for devotions. This can be a space for a candle, as well as a dish or plate for offerings and some items that represent the gods, spirits and ancestors, the three realms, and the place around you; things that articulate your beliefs and worldview, making a sort of microcosm, as it were. I have a shelf in my kitchen, which I see as a kind of central hearth for the home; the spiritual centre, if you will. I tend to make my offerings outside so rarely leave them on my shelf (or else I put them outside immediately after finishing ritual), but I focus a lot of my indoor devotions and rites there.

In addition to daily prayers, offerings (daily, weekly, or however frequently you feel is appropriate) can be a good practice to get into as well. Making offerings to the gods and ancestors is a good idea, but it's also important to build a relationship with the land spirits around you. Bioregionalism is a popular buzzword in the pagan community these days, and it's one that has a lot to offer the Celtic Reconstructionist. It's about trying to live in harmony with nature, and it's a process that begins at home; in doing so, it's a good way to start building a relationship with the nature spirits - even if you live in a very built up area.

You can honour the local spirits by making offerings to them, but you can also honour them in other ways, too, if these are possible: For example, buy local produce; look after your garden and try planting species that are native to your area, including ones that are attractive to bees, butterflies and all kinds of insects (or if you don't have a garden, try a window-planter, put out bird boxes and bug hotels, bird feeders and the like); grow your own fruit and vegetables - it's a good way to keep in touch with the seasonal cycles; feed the birds (a lot of folks incorporate these into their offerings, since a lot of different kinds of birds are commonly seen as Otherworldly agents); pick up rubbish as you find it in your area; and/or make an outdoor shrine for offerings and devotions. The general idea is to build a positive relationship with the land, and making offerings to the spirits, tending to the land and looking after it are all good ways of going about it. It's not always possible to do everything, for whatever reason, but you can do something.

Once you've got used to doing your daily observances, then it becomes easier to get on with adding a few more in. Ritual and prayer doesn't have to be lengthy and elaborate, and Gaelic Polytheism allows for the individual and individual groups to formulate their own liturgy so to a certain extent it can be built around your own needs. This is partly why there isn't an awful lot of liturgy out there, because a lot of folks prefer to find their own understanding and articulation of practice, and other people's words aren't necessarily helpful to your own circumstances. Having said that, it's probably fair to say that it's also partly to do with the fact that liturgy is a deeply personal element of practice and not everyone is comfortable with sharing such personal and meaningful material with strangers; that's a common view in the traditional cultures as well. So in spite of the fact that there may not be much out there, that's not to say that liturgy isn't important. It's just personal. There's nothing wrong with sharing liturgy, if you so wish, but there's no obligation to (there are some examples given in the Prayer in Gaelic Polytheism article if you want to take a look, though).

However you come to find your own words for prayer and ritual, looking to traditional sources is the best starting point. Since we are about tradition, that means we are focused on the kind of rituals and prayers that can be said again and again; repetition is important. Tradition is what gives us roots; it steadies us and gives us a solid foundation. By looking to traditional sources, by rooting our own practices in them, we might see ourselves walking in the footsteps of those who went before us; that is what tradition is about.

Where clouds are made...

There's something about this time of year that makes it both the best and the worst of the seasons for me. On the one hand we get the bitter winds that chill you to the bone, the endless grey skies and dreary rain, frosty mornings and black ice just lurking in the most inconvenient part of the road so you're guaranteed to slip over...

On the other, the sun is starting to get stronger and (on the rare occasion it comes out) when it shines you can feel it warming you up, and it all the moisture everywhere starts to evaporate and we get:

A place where clouds are made, where the land, sea and sky meets:

And then those clouds don't want to leave. For a while:

Perhaps Manannán is awandering.

I've been wanting to go down to the beach for a while; the air, the view, the sun on my face...There's something restorative about it. I've come a long way to live with this view almost on my doorstep, in lots of ways, and now I don't get to enjoy it as much as I'd like. I can't remember the last time I came down here and it was starting to make me restless, wanting to get back here and make some offerings, breathe in some fresh air and peace. Ahhh, at last.

Along the way, with the dogs and Rosie in tow, we marveled at how the mist was rising from the trees and the grass up into the sky, and I took Rosie on an adventure along a seekrit path where I showed her one of the amazing hidden things that kids should know about for when they're old enough to go off by themselves. The old steps to nowhere:

They really don't go anywhere, there's just a bit of greenery at the top, and then it's fenced off for gardens. Where it used to go I'm not sure either, but there used to be a castle round here somewhere and it's probably part of the old grounds. Now it's just home to the gangies and dens, the castles of kids' imaginations.

And on we walked down towards the sea. As part of kicking myself back into gear I'm going to try to take a walk around the village at least once a week so I can get back into making my offerings at certain points around the place. I might not always manage it, but something is better than nothing.

On our way home, we found a shiny green square of thick glass (some sort of tile or something) on the pavement; treasure as far as Rosie's concerned. Much nicer than stumbling across a dead crow in the middle of the street, as far as I'm concerned.

Archive: Daily practises and other deep thoughts...

I lurk and occasionally post on a couple of the larger CR mailing lists and I have to say they're becoming less and less relevant to me these days. It's not just the fact that the same arguments tend to go round and round with alarming regularity, it's the infuriating kind of discussions that seem to be cropping up recently, and at the heart of it there's just nothing there to interest me. So mostly I skip and surf until something piques my interest. I suppose I could try and stimulate a bit of discussion that does interest me, instead of bitching quietly to myself, but I can never think of anything that I think would be good for discussion...

...Books. I can do books. But that's a little cliche, perhaps.

There was a thread not so long ago where someone asked something along the lines of "What things do you like to do to make yourself feel Celtic?" And I thought...Odd question, and I really don't know where to start with how wrong that seems to be...Maybe it was just badly phrased, maybe I wanted it to be. But it seemed to imply that the idea was to 'play Celtic' as part of CR's religious practice, and then once it's over we go about our daily business as we were. It seemed a few responses were framed in that manner, anyway. And I admit I'm probably being completely judgemental (in the bad way, because apparently you can only be judgemental if you judge negatively. Otherwise you just have great perception skills...), but it got me thinking...no. There were people who replied with the usual: language, literature, music, traditional activities like weaving tartan. And they're all good answers, to an extent, but they seemed to lack something and I began to chew on what it was that I couldn't put my finger on.

And then I think the list owner pointed out that it's not things that makes you 'Celtic', you either are or you aren't - it's who you are, not what you do. There are things you can do that are all good ways of honouring a particular culture, but that goes beyond 'being Celtic' if you want to end up being CR in a serious way that speaks to the core of your being. It goes beyond slipping these things on as is convenient, and then going back to normal, so to speak. Or even endeavering to learn music, language, arts and so forth on an ongoing, daily basis. Unless you're a part of a culture, indigenous to it, do you fully understand it? Conversely, I'd say, if you're a part of the culture should you be considered to be the fount of all knowledge...Experience says no, in that respect, because obviously personal biases come in to play. And unfortunately those biases are often based on politics and racism, it seems. As far as internet forums go. And inevitably such biases are open to taste and interpretation, too.

But then, I thought, you have to start somewhere. Most CRs don't have the benefit of having being brought up in Ireland, Scotland, Wales and so on...I've always thought that CR has been quite clear that first and foremost, it's a movement that started within the diasporal peoples, or has been hugely influenced by them at the least, and that first and foremost the emphasis should be on striving to understand those cultures as best you can. Some of those from the diaspora - CR or not - seem to be more defensive and conservative of the culture(s) than some of those who are of it/them. But most CRs don't have the benefit of spending any length of time in the particular countries that form such a large part of their cultural focus, and that can be important or not. Sometimes I wonder if, from the outside, the differences between Ireland and Scotland are really appreciated outside of those countries, in a specifically Gaelic context. Then again I think it's something I'm only really beginning to appreciate a lot more as an outsider myself.

So maybe there has to be a start somewhere, a way of incorporating these cultural elements into one's daily life until it becomes an integral part, a solid foundation to build on. Is there a scale? Where would I be on it? Does it matter? The language is something of a final frontier in that respect, for me, since my efforts at learning by myself are somewhat limited (I'm hoping to start lessons in the autumn, but there's no word yet on whether these will go ahead for this year). I can only try, even if I feel doomed to mediocrity in this respect...But I do feel it's important and integral, ultimately, to my practices. It's frustrating, sometimes, knowing how far away I am from it. But if I fail, I'd rather say I tried, and keep on plugging away at the basics.

But thinking about it further, it's interesting that many of the responses in the thread focused on doing things first, and then religious practice second (if it was mentioned at all). Maybe practice is a given. I don't know. But I would've thought that as a reconstructionist, this kind of answer would be first. It got me thinking, along with some discussions I've seen elsewhere recently about daily practises, that these really are the lynchpin of CR in many ways. It's something I've been musing on since all this cropped up in the last month or so, in various places.

These days I seem to have found myself in a good rhythm as far as my daily practises are concerned: I've been making regular offerings and every evening as I prepare for bed and make sure everything's in order I turn it into a meditation as well as an act of prayer. I do the same in the morning, as I take a pause and look out of the window to see what the day might bring, and I lift my cup of coffee to greet the crows, rooks, magpies and jackdaws that invariably hop about the garden looking for tasty treats before Mungo tries to say hello (they're not so keen). My evening walks also tend to end up being meditative, and I'm finding it all very comfortable and it all feels like second nature now. I cook; I pray; I clean; I sing; I do; I am. It's not something I have to get into the right frame of mind for now, because it's become such a part of my routine. It's how I'm living my life.

It's not something that's other anymore, it's integral. And I realise I risk sounding incredibly smug at this point, sorry. Bear with me as I ramble, I might have a point...I'm not sure yet. It's just that maybe - more than anything - I've realised that CR as a spiritual practice is so pervasive, and it should be. I don't have the benefit of those who were brought up with survivals in the diaspora, along with language and a strong and deep-seated love for one's ancestry. I grew up with a few survivals and superstitions, but these were Catholic, not appropriate to my culture and the cultural milieu I was brought up in as an agnostic/atheist and by-default-Protestant.

Like many, my love and passion for exploring my ancestry is seated within a foggy romanticism that's somewhat removed from reality. I can claim a name, or two, a heritage at some remove, but really it means very little in defining me or my beliefs. As I'm raising my kids, idealising their upbringing as much as I can as a parent who wants the best for my children, and who sees that as lying in this country, Scotland, rather than the country I was born and raised in...I'm seeing what it is to be born and raised Scottish in a new light. I know my husband; I know how he was raised. But discussing and coming to understand many of the finer points of his upbringing not so far from here gives a new perspective to how I see myself, too. I learn a lot just as my kids do. For them, it's second nature, but for me it's something to analyse to embrace but see as something incorporated rather than inherent...And yet, not incorporated. It just is. We adapt...

I was brought up as an atheist or agnostic at best, although my mother encouraged religious exploration in the hope that my sister and I might find some answers as she felt (and still feels) that she never could, or can, find. So I can claim some survivals, few and disjointed though they may have been, but they're disjointed at best - mostly through my nan's efforts to save us spiritually and give us an identity culturally.

So I can only throw myself into the idea of reconstruction of traditions, rather than traditionalism. The principles seem simple on paper, but finding a personal understanding, a rhythm, takes a bit longer, I've found. It all seems to have fallen into place when I stopped worrying about doing things properly, as I've focused on so much before, and the realisation has kinda crept up on me since I made my offerings for Midsummer last week. Rather than finding that the routine of doing, praying, being and so on gets stale and old after a while - the same thing, day in, day out - I'm finding that it's helping me to evolve my practises and outlook as a whole. I've been experimenting some more with traditional dishes (Mr Seren was particularly grateful for the gingerbread I tried) and different types of bannocks (though I still can't find any barley meal, I've been looking for ages - the barley bannocks will have to wait), and even cheese-making. In addition to this stuff, I'm finding that developing a devotional sort of ritual that I can use as a formal Good Wishing and Deiseal ritual to start off my formal festivities has been very helpful in keeping me focused and structured, somwhat. Even if Bealltainn wasn't all that focused at the time, I felt...

The blueberries and raspberries growing in the garden have given me a sense of continuity for my practices, and I think for once, when I harvest them for Lùnasdal (assuming all goes well), I'll feel a real sense of connection to the festival that I usually lack. I've finally found a sense of energy again, and my increasing focus on daily practices has given me an anchor for that. It's not something that gives me mindblowing spiritual insights everyday, but it's giving me a balance. And sometimes, maybe, there might be a bit of an aha! moment along the way. But more than anything the rhythm, the reassurrance of continuity, helps ground me.

Since Bealltainn I've been feeling a lot more positive, for some reason. Being interrupted by a dying cat on one of my meditations the other week can't be interpreted as a good sign, I suppose (and thank you for your kind words, those of you who commented or sent a nod my way in some form or another), but I think I got a few more positive ones when I went to pay my dues to Manannán last Wednesday. There were no dying cats, anyway...Although it is dead jellyfish season now, apparently.

I'm still unsure as to how the 'lesser' festivals fit in with what I do in some respects. I don't go all out like I do for the Quarter Days and sometimes I think maybe I should, so for Midsummer I decided I should at least put some thought into it, in a more structured way. It kind of snuck up on me so I didn't have a chance to do much reading up on it, so I just decided on making some offerings and finishing with a feast. Since Manannán is a god I've had a long relationship with, I started off with taking the dogs down to the beach to leave some offerings there. I've been meaning to post some photos of the village, so now seems as good a time as any...

First we head to the woods - the arboretum that was planted as part of the former estate's grounds, which is situated right in the middle of the village. There are lots of trees that have fallen over because of the soft ground, but amazingly a lot of them seem to survive:

Then we come out of the woods and take one of the back lanes through the oldest part of the village where all the ridiculously big houses are. This is a view of the woods as you leave them, looking back:

Followed by one of the grand old houses further down the lane, heading towards the sea:

Then it's down to the pebbly beach and the rock pools with the views of Bute and Argyll:

(Or just Argyll, really, in this case). And then we loop round on our way home so we get to see all the grand houses sitting up high as we walk along the coastal road:

The roof tiles on the turrets look like fish scales, which seems very apt for the locale.

I went to the beach at dusk this time, and the sun was very low and peaking dimly through the clouds. I'd brought some Pittenweem oatcakes and a generous lump of butter with me and gave it to the sea from the rocks, while Mungo went off for a frolic and Eddie went for a swim. I debated about whether or not I should give something more valuable - would it be too much, or just what was required? I didn't want to offend by giving too much or too little.

I was wearing some silver studs in the shape of shells that I bought a while ago with the idea of giving them in mind, and had put them on in case it seemed appropriate to give them after all. Given the recent stresses and worries, I decided it would be appropriate to give them after all, so they went into the sea with some heartfelt words too. There always seems to be a handy gust of wind at moments like this, that seems to acknowledge what's been given.

I stayed for a while, soaking in the seaweedy salty air and the last rays of the sun, and took a little bit of peacefulness from it all - much needed seeing as my mother was due to arrive the next day. As it began to get properly dark I built a small cairn just by the sea line, so the waves would take it as it came in, and as I looked for a white stone (which I generally put on top), one stone in particular caught my eye and I realised it was covered in fossils. It's not a fossily beach so I've no idea where it came from, but I picked it up and took it as a sign that I was being given something back. A sign of a contract, perhaps. A renewal. I've taken a photo or two, to illustrate:

 

 

It's almost heart shaped, and it's literally covered in the little fossily creatures. Of course I could be wrong. It could be dried on bird poo, or something, not fossily at all...But it seems fossily to me. Either way, I shall add it to my collection of interesting things for my water feature that incorporates representation of the three realms, in my garden (which I really need to finish at some point).

I stuck my iPod on shuffle to see what radiomancy might tell me about the future, not having my ogam fews to hand and feeling that the moment was pretty much now, not later when I'd got the dogs home and fed and so on. It started off with Janis Joplin's Half Moon - very full of three realms imagery, it seemed to me, so uncannily apt given my thought processes at the time. Then there was a break beat called Rolling Thunder, so there were no lyrics but it was very funky and I noted the naturey theme - maybe the thunderiness pointing to Lugh and therefore Lùnsadal...Thirdly came Morcheeba's The Sea. Which made me think that the gods were being a little facetious at this point, but maybe it was also meant to tell me to chill out. Relax, stop worrying!

Point taken.

I went home and made some more offerings to the spirits of the house and more immediate land, and some more specific deities like Badb, before making my way to bed, and I slept well and deeply. Mum wasn't as nearly as demanding as I'd built the whole visit up to be, after she arrived the next day (later than expected), and I cooked a roast chicken with garlic roast potatoes and veg for a celebratory feast for her first night and to celebrate the passing of Midsummer, along with some cranachan and gingerbread for afters - minus the whisky, for mum's portion. She really enjoyed it all, which was a surprise, and it was somewhat gratifying too - high praise from a properly trained cook. I put some chicken out as an offering before the dogs raided the kitchen for leftovers, and it was all gone in the morning, which was a reassuring sight to see. Mungo was pissed off, too, he was really looking forward to scarfing it all down.

So this sense of otherliness...I guess I've realised that that's not what my practices are about. I don't classify them as particularly mundane either, but still. The idea of otherworldliness and thisness is never far in Gaelic cosmology of any flavour. They overlap so heavily as to be almost the same, and yet not. So contradictory and so similar. Thinking about Manannán and what he is, where I am, how I am...It all seems to have fallen into place. Stop worrying. Maybe I might just do that. Hopefully it will take me in the right direction.

Archive: Daily practises and Samhainn planning, 2007

I tried posting this a day or two ago, but have only just got the pics sorted. And I thought of lots of bits to add in anyway, so it's just as well...Apologies for the length.

This is the view from the top of my street/road/cul-de-sac. A short walk across the road, up to the small park and passed the swing, this is what I can see. Though, in the interests of honesty I should add the views conveniently omit the oil refinery to the far west and the nuclear naval base to the east...

Each day - weather, health and life permitting - I take a walk up here with the kids and the dog. As Tom potters about and does what toddlers do, I take a moment to meditate and take stock of life and where I’m at, before Tom insists it’s time to play. Or Rosie wakes up.

Mostly I think about how lucky I am and how I still can’t believe I’m here, and that whatever happens, I should remember this time. When the chips are down it's times like this that help me get through things. This is not my permanent home, but it’s been a good home so far. I still feel a connection with this place, and today I realised how it keeps me grounded. I mentally reach out across to the water and the hills on the other side, feel myself sinking in and connecting with my sense of spirituality. My beliefs mean that feeling a connection with the land is important to me (amongst other things). I honour the land, the spirits and the gods that I believe embody and are part of the land. I do this primarily through devotional acts of prayer and the making of offerings.

Sometimes Tom wants to have a look and we stand together and look out across the water and see what we can see - the birds, the boats, the clouds and so on. Tom says hello to them all as I point them out. Sometimes we find dandelion clocks (which Tom loves), and blow them to spread the seeds. I dedicate the act to Bride (saint or goddess, dandelions were heavily associated with her because of the milky juice you find in the stem, like the milk of the cows she's so heavily associated with). I figure she’d like more dandelions about the place:

Tom’s oblivious to this, though, and just likes making a mess. Since Mr Seren and I have widely differing beliefs, and I feel that spirituality is such a personal thing I don't intend to instil my beliefs in my kids, but I would like to instil a love of nature in them as well as a sense of spirituality. From my own childhood, things like picking up conkers, blackberrying and walks in the woods are some of my happiest memories.

I digress...

Today started off cold and foggy, which didn’t lift until well after lunchtime. When we went on our walk the sun had just started to come out and the fog was only just starting to lift, and the heavy dew hadn’t evaporated yet. When we got to the playground it was too foggy to see the Firth of Forth, which we live right beside, but I was greeted with the most amazing view of cobwebs absolutely everywhere. On the grass, the plants, the play equipment, fences…you name it. Luckily, I took the camera.

I'm not a big fan of spiders, I confess. You won't find me keeping a giant tarantula as a pet, but then again I won't run screaming from the bathroom because there happens to be a furry, predatory-looking spider stuck in the bath. One of my many supersitions is that spiders in the home are a sign of good luck, so I took this as a good sign.

It was the first wintry-feeling day today so my meditation naturally turned to Samhainn, winter, and the end of autumn; the sun shone with the stark brightness that comes with the little warmth it gives in winter, but the trees are still undecided as to whether they should really go for autumn or not. Some trees haven’t started turning yet, whereas others are bare, giving an odd mix of what looks like summer in some places that you look, winter in other views, and autumn in another. There are even flowers bravely clinging on for a last burst of colour, including a lonely poppy and some thistle:

(I took a photo of the poppy too, but the camera focused on the background instead of the flower so it was a bit crap…I really should learn how to use it properly one day, but toddlers aren’t conducive to well set up shots anyway…).

Then we set off on our walk to see if we could see any woolly cows as I continued to think about what I’ll be doing for Samhainn. So far I’ve resolved to carve a turnip* this time round. I’m not expecting this to be an easy task, but I’ll be sure to post my efforts for comedy value if anything else. Potluck seems to be an appropriate meal for the occasion - I did stovies last year (a Scottish dish mainly comprising minced beef or lamb and potato, stewed on the stove for a long time), which were disappointing so I might have a stab at those again. I’m going to do some gingerbread and crannachan again, and make some bannocks according to a traditional sort of ritual I've reconstructed.

This time round I’ll do some divination as well (though I haven't decided on specifics yet), and if I finish them in time I’m thinking about using the ogam fews I’ve been working on. Progress is slow, as I haven’t had much energy to give them the concentration I’d like, but so far (for a beginner and a not-very-good-artist), they seem to be coming along. They’re not brilliant, but they’re better than I was expecting, and I hope I feel inspired enough again to finish them off soon. Maybe over the weekend.

I’m contemplating making my festivities a little more formal, or maybe I mean ritualised, this year. Now I’m finding my confidence in what I’m doing and have more experience to build on, it feels that that’s the way to go. I’m not big on formality, but for some reason this year it seems appropriate, and as I've been inspired by various books I've read recently, I shall be incorporating bits into something that's more planned out than usual - in particular the glannad ritual erynn999 has provided in her ogam book (hopefully, anyway). Maybe it's because of the prospect of moving house, and being able to breathe again financially now the house is sold; it's all come at a time that is traditionally about endings and beginnings and inbetween things, so maybe it seems all the more significant. Either way I'm extremely glad about it.

I'm also thinking about how I can throw my support behind the Tara-Skyrne ritual plan to help protect the prehistoric sites in the Tara valley that are under threat from a new motorway being built by the Irish government. While the ritual is excellent (and in many respects something of a watershed in CR) it will need a little tweaking to adapt to my solitary-and-frequently-interrupted-thanks-to-a-young-baby circumstances. I'm usually a cynic when it comes to the planning process. No matter how important a site may be to the heritage of a country, if money's involved it'll get bulldozed. But then again, if nobody does anything, or says anything, there's no hope for it at all, is there?

We found the woolly cows, by the way. Unlike the scary cows that graze not too far away and loom and lurk at you as you walk innocently by, the woolly cows tend to be a bit more friendly. They graze in a field inside what seems to have been at one time a Victorian walled garden that’s fallen out of use, and sometimes if you’re lucky they’ll come over and say hello.

Today we were lucky (though it took about half an hour of Tom mooing at them and waving bits of grass for them to muster up the effort to stroll over). Tom was very impressed, and Rosie was too, after she finally woke up.

*Speaking of turnips, Pumpkin ban in Hallowe'en protest.