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Posts Tagged ‘tribe’

When I woke up this morning, after going about my toilette, I approached my altar, but decided I would hold off on my usual devotional.  I felt unsettled, so I went outside.  I contemplated yoga, but my inner voice urged me to stretch up to the sun, to feel the dewy grass on my feet, then pour a libation instead.  That felt good.  I said a prayer of thanksgiving.

I returned to contemplate my altar.  I’ve been in my home for just over a year, now, and the corner altar in my kitchen has stood for about that long.  I examined the buildup of incense dust and cobwebs.  I work with my altar daily, but bits of rituals past cling in the shadows of rocks, offering bowls, and statuary.  When spiders move in, I tend to welcome them.  My mother always taught me that, unless they present a danger, they are good luck. I offer hospitality,  but that means their webbing, shed skin, and bits of dust linger when they move on.

My eyes took all of this in, and I began to consider how this time of year – September in particular – always finds me  slightly detached from my practice. My work life reclaims much of my energy.  I have little else to give when I return from a long day of teaching and nurturing children.  I view what I do as an extension of my relationship with Brighid.  My values, my beliefs, they do not go away.  They inform me, guide me… and yet, my time and energy to do deeper spirit work diminishes.

It is a frustrating part of my own personal wheel of the year.

I am missing Pagan Pride Day today.  Ever since I had a child, it’s been hit or miss for me.  I’m exhausted.  My family is exhausted.  We’ve all been exposed to everyone else’s germs at school, and my daughter is not feeling her best.  So I’m putting our health first, knowing that we will be with our grove to celebrate the Autumn Equinox next weekend.  That will reinvigorate me further, and carry me into the Samhain season, renewed and ready for rebirth.

Back to the dusty altar.  The dust, I realize, represented something more.  Yes, that sort of thing accumulates through life and ritual (especially when incense is involved).  Yet there was more – it was the miasma of magic past made manifest.  The spiders, drawn to the corner to catch fruit flies opportunistically sipping from my offering bowls, were telling me I needed to tidy up.

So I did.  This morning, I did not light any incense.  I did not make any offerings of food or drink at my altar.  I gave time and care.  I dusted each item with love.  I washed away residue.  I replaced each sacred object tenderly, kissing some, stroking others.  I made sure my allies knew they were still very much welcomed.

You may wonder if I considered the moon phase or astrological sign.  You may nod with approval as I did this before a High Day.  You may shake your head at me for the informality of it all.  However, what I did felt right, and listening to your heart, your instincts, then acting on them, using what is at hand, is an important part of my practice, I feel.  Considering that I am putting a lot of thought into the Autumn Equinox ritual next weekend, this very off-the-cuff cleansing ritual felt like a needed juxtaposition.

Tonight, I am planning to ritually sain and mark the anniversary of our moving here.  I will honor the spirits in my home, and re-consecrate that space.  In the meantime, I’m going to sit and pour an offering to myself: a well-deserved cup of tea.

 

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Hyde Lake in Theresa, NY.  Photo by Grey Catsidhe, 2018.

Between difficulties with our car, cleaning at home, and going back to work a few weeks early, my summer is ending before I’m ready. I have no right to complain, though. Life is relatively good, and the summer fun I did have was wonderful and exciting! And rather than mope, I try my best to seize the day. Because my car, the only one with a roof rack, was in the shop for several weeks, we didn’t get to do much kayaking this year. Today, we changed that with a trip to nearby Hyde Lake.

There’s a lot of nature to explore, even at the boat launch.  Photo by Grey Catsidhe, 2018.

My daughter hadn’t been here since she was a baby, so she was excited to explore a “new” landscape.  We even saw a weasel while in our boat.

KayakHydeLake2018
It turns out, time on a lake was just what I needed. I felt really stressed a few days ago, and I’m making some changes in life because of it.  There’s been a lot of that in the air, I gather.   Anyway, I plan to post a bit about that eventually, but today it was all about finding a slice of paradise.  My husband and daughter were excited to head out with me for a little adventure near home.  Where land, water, and sky meet, I felt rejuvenated.

I await autumn with open arms, but the stress of an increased workload comes along with all the apples, pumpkins, and spiced chai lattes.  Make sure you get outside and reconnect with the people, and places, who mean a lot to you.

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Persevering

My spiritual community was recently rocked with news on allegations of sexual misconduct by our late founder, Isaac Bonewits.  While the initial accusations occurred before ADF was founded, others have come forth with more experiences.  Like others in ADF, I’ve felt a mixed bag of emotions.  Mostly, disappointment, sadness for the victims, confusion, listlessness, and even anger.

Despite it all, I continued to drag myself to my altar in the mornings to perform my daily devotionals.  The first time was difficult.  I hesitated as I called to the ancestors.  I had to consider my words carefully.

I never met Bonewits, but his ideas have had a major influence on my life.  One of my dear friends lent me his classic Essential Guide to Druidism.  I eagerly read about, then joined, ADF.  It clicked with me, and the community was already widespread and active compared to the still small and fragmented Celtic Recon community that also interests me.  As I worked my way through study programs, I found myself learning more from his other works, especially NeoPagan Rites.  He inspired me.

I remembered hearing a story about Bonewits bringing a bag full of condoms to a festival, but I didn’t really think much of it at the time.  It made me chuckle.  It reveals my naivety about sexual relations in the past.  I’ve been lucky that my sexual experiences have all been consensual.  Back then, my idea of rape was that it was always forced, either through violence or the imposition of mind altering substances.  My mother taught me to fight – kick, bite, scratch, and do anything necessary to get away.  Reading about other peoples’ experiences would later teach me that it wasn’t always violent.  It could simply involve fear, an imbalance in power, coercion, etc.  I hadn’t thought of the condom story for years, but I recalled it with each new allegation, and it was no longer amusing.

Like many in my community, I’m still processing everything.  I’ve read reactions from people who have been friends with Bonewits, victims of sexual harassment and abuse, people who worry about due process, and people who work with convicted sex offenders.   We are experiencing something that the rest of my country is also grappling with.  Change is afoot, and transformation is often messy.  Mistakes will be made, but hopefully, lessons will be learned.  My hope is that ADF, like the rest of the country, can move towards something better for the next generation.

I want to help make the world a better place for my own child.  I’m pleased with the Mother Grove’s responses to this, and the work they’re doing to strengthen our sexual misconduct policy with training on creating a culture of consent.  As a senior druid, I look forward to future training and bringing it back to my own grove.

As others have said, I believe that ADF is more than Bonewits.  We cannot ignore or hide our past, but our roots go even deeper than our founder.  The ideas that he organized were inspired by older teachings.   He stood on the shoulders of others, just as we all do.  We each contribute but none of us represents the whole picture.  And beyond it all, the gods and goddesses themselves stir the cauldron of wisdom and ignite the flames of inspiration.  We have more to draw on than the work of one man.    My brothers, sisters, and teachers at Muin Mound Grove shared their hospitality with me for years, helping me grow on the path.  My dear friend in Ithaca who is now starting her own grove continues to grow with me.  All the fellow Dedicants I’ve worked with as a reviewer have shared their own perspectives with me.  The priests, priestesses, initiates, solitaries, bards, artisans, warriors, flamekeepers, and many, many others who have played a part in my own spiritual journey.  And, of course, my own grovemates who are a spiritual family to me.  I’m so proud of the work we have done to grow, not only in developing our liturgical style and traditions, but in creating a safe, family-friendly atmosphere.  It’s a lot of work, but it’s been more rewarding than not.  I intend to keep up the work, not for the sake of our flawed founder, but for the sake of my community, and the spirits who called me to do the work, to persevere.

May Brighid wrap her healing mantle around the victims.  

May she bless us with the warmth of compassion.

May Lugh bring justice as it is deserved.

May he teach us the skills we need to improve and build.

May Morrighan wake our inner warriors with her mighty call.

May she grant us the courage to continue the hard work ahead.

– Grey Catsidhe, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

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Last year, I took a personal day on the Winter Solstice. This year, I used one for Samhain and don’t feel right asking for tomorrow given various things happening at work. I’m mildly resentful tonight as I work myself exhausted trying to make tomorrow a fun and memorable day for my family. I still have things to do for family and friends who celebrate Christmas instead, but I’m ready for our family celebration. I even have dinner ready to cook in the crock when I get up. That way, I can return from work and just relax (while sewing and crocheting some gifts). 

Working tomorrow means no attempt at a vigil tonight, but we did continue with some new traditions from last year. We made sun and snow sugar cookies. I read Bee a Solstice book before bed, then sang her the Pagan “Silent Night.” We made an offering of a cookie to our Ancestral Morhers, turned off all the lights, and thought about the longest night, darkness, the sun, and rebirth. 

I’m exhausted, but it’s worth the effort. Enjoy your longest night! Whether you stay up or rise early to greet the reborn sun, may you take a moment to give thanks for the miracle that is the sun and our very existence as we loop around him each year. 

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We put up our Winter Solstice tree last night. My daughter was so excited. This is the first time in many years that we’ve had a large tree or used lights. The new LEDs are supposed to be better… Having a young child made us nostalgic, so my husband and I felt the tug to add more of the seasonal whimsy to our home, for better or worse.

It’s always fun to hang ornaments. I treat it as a ritual. We put on some seasonal music. This year, it was the Nutcracker. My daughter is absolutely obsessed with it. She doesn’t know that we’re going to see it around my birthday. An experiential birthday gift for me, and an early Solstice gift for her and my husband.

As we listened to Sugar Plumb Fairies, flowers, snowflakes, and rampaging mice dance, we reminisced about each ornament. Every trinket is a reminder of someone or an occasion. There are some of my childhood ornaments that take me back to a simpler time, but also connect me to my daughter in new ways. We both love Simba, now.  There are ornaments to commemorate events, such as my first Solstice with my husband and our wedding. There are handmade gifts from friends – crocheted snowflakes, felted stars, painted dragons, sculpted ferrets, thread-wrapped fairies and mermaids… There’s the Santa ornament hand painted by my late aunt. The tree becomes an altar to our happiest times. Illuminated by light, we gather together with loved ones, and we tell the stories of winters past. For the next twenty-five days, we will put gifts for the important people in our lives below the boughs.

The whole process encompasses the spirit of the season for me. Magic. Togetherness. Light. Giving. Gratitude. The promise of renewal. Preparing is half the fun.  And this year, we added a new ornament already – a little Clara holding her Nutcracker Prince.  It will represent another memory.

Our 2017 Winter Solstice tree.  Yes, that is a Yule Goat.  Photo by Grey Catsidhe, 2017.

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Ghost Flowers at Otter Creek Preserve.  Once upon a time, I had no idea what these were.  I didn’t merely shrug and forget – I took photos and looked them up after a hike.  Now I can easily identify them.  It’s a great feeling. – Photo by Grey Catsidhe, 2017

I read an article today that captured the spirit and concern of one of my recent posts.  It relates to Britain specifically, but I see a similar disconnect between people and nature in the United States.  It amazes me how many adults (who have lived in Upstate NY all their lives) don’t know the difference between an oak and a maple tree.  These are some of the most common trees around!  Or they can’t name any of the wildflowers that grow near them.

It’s really… strange to me, I guess, but then I think of all the other skills I’m surprised people lack.  Like…hearing that someone intends to throw out a shirt because a button fell off…  Say what?  Reading the article linked above made me realize how lucky I was as a child to learn about the nature around me.  My parents and even grandparents were very involved and passed down their wisdom – the names of plants and animals, how to garden, what not to touch, and even some wild edibles.  I’m always trying to add to that knowledge and pass on more to my own daughter.

There’s definitely some privilege there.  I understand that I was very lucky to have involved parents.  They could afford for my mother to stay home and raise my sister and me.  My father had a good job with benefits so he didn’t need to take any more employment.  My grandparents lived close and were able to retire, giving them plenty of time to teach me and my sibling how to sew, paint fences, weed, press flowers, etc.  Not only did we have access to green space, but we were surrounded by it and actively went on weekend excursions into the Adirondacks to learn more.  We went to the library and museums.  I realize not everyone is able to do those things for a variety of reasons.

I’m thinking about how I can help improve the situation.  Continuing to talk with my daughter about the plants and animals around us is a huge priority to me.  Reading and getting outside as I discussed in that recent post to improve my own understanding, for sure.  Perhaps I should do more with my own grove?  Going on a nature walk together and pooling our collective knowledge would be a great activity.  (Honestly, I want us to get out more together anyway.)  As a teacher, perhaps I should take my students outside.  Perhaps we’ll take advantage of the wooded trail on campus and keep a weekly or even monthly nature journal to improve their writing skills…  Simply getting outside and taking the time to observe can be so powerful*.  There are many possibilities.  Every little bit counts.

What are you doing to improve your connection to nature?  What else could you do to pass on your knowledge to others?

*I once took some little kids out on the playground with magnifying glasses just to observe the insects and spiders.  After calming them, they were entranced by a bumblebee, admitting that they never actually looked at one up close before.  It was one of the most amazing, humbling, and emotional experiences to me as a teacher.

 

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A mandala painted on a stone from Lake Ontario and gifted to my husband. Photo by Grey Catsidhe, 2017.

For me, the Summer Solstice is a time of endings and beginnings. Vacation begins for me and many others in my field. Students go home. Several of my students moved on and I may never see or hear from them again. That was a hard pill to swallow as I had grown especially fond of some of them. We got to know each other over several years, and they were such good kids. The kind of youth that give me hope for the future. I’m so proud of them, and they taught me just as much as I taught them, I’m sure.  Such is the nature of working with kids in any capacity – they grow up and we must stand back to watch them fly.

“Rent” for Manannan mac Lir.  Photo by Grey Catsidhe, 2017.


My routine changes over the summer. I suddenly have more time and energy. While teaching is in my blood and very much a part of my Druid identity, a long vacation definitely gives me time for other things that I am equally passionate about. My family feels up to taking more walks, and we have more daylight in which to do so. We spend more time playing outside, working on the garden, and visiting beloved mountains, rivers, and lakes.  I start meditating more – deeper, longer meditations that bleed over into trance states.  Just thinking about it makes my heart beat with anticipation.

Our Summer Solstice bonfire.  Photo by Grey Catsidhe, 2017.

Of course, there was, and will be, plenty of ritual involved. We had a bonfire Summer Solstice evening. It was just very casual, although I did sing as I kindled the flame. Later today, I’ll gather with my grove for a larger, more formal celebration. We’re once more honoring Manannan mac Lir and thanking him for the blessings of water.  The summer brings more opportunities for gathering with like-minded people to laugh, sing, and dance around fires.

Last night marked the New Moon. The omens for the day focused on change and, later, working with my own wildness to make me and my community a better person. I was struggling with some confidence issues earlier in the day. In transitioning from work-me to free-time me, and in the stress of all I had to accomplish to pass that threshold, I got a little goofy acting and put my foot in my mouth. I regretted it later, feeling foolish. I often worry how others see me. I spent a lot of time reflecting on what that means, how I want to be seen, and how to be true to myself. I did some midnight magical work in the garden to help me grow as a person.

I call my blog “The Ditzy Druid” for a reason. I can be a little quirky sometimes. It’s part of who I am. I don’t take myself too seriously.  After seeing “Moana,” I told my husband that I want to grow up to be like her grandmother, the self-professed “village crazy lady.” Despite her eccentricities, she is respected and loved. I think I usually maintain that balance, but we all know that our energies ebb and flow. I was a bit hyped up on all the new beginnings and got a bit silly. That said, I feel much better after my working last night, and sleep, the blessed medicine. The old saying is true: “Those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.” Be you.  (But I also keep thinking about the words of Aaron Burr from Hamilton, “Talk less, smile more.”)

(For a little more on celebrating you and growing in confidence, I highly suggest you check out my friend Jen Rose’s blog entry on wearing what makes you feel amazing.)

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