Tag Archive | nature

Mother Nature

Mother’s Day weekend was spent enjoying Mother Nature.

Seeds for wildflowers were scattered, Black-eyed Susan seeds were planted.

A tiny garden laid out, with hopes pinned on cucumber and zucchini seeds.

Sacrifice waTurtle Tortoise in the Grass 051517s made in the form of a tall tree whose trunk was damaging our roof.

Birds sang and flew around inspiring bright delight.

Leaves and grasses danced in the wind, dappling ground and deck with light and shadow.

Gutters relieved of decaying debris, releasing runnels of brown water down the spouts.

And this morning, a box turtle greeted me as I made my way to my Grounding Tree.

 

A Conscious Land

I go out in the morning and stand barefoot on the rocky earth, place my palms upon a massive tree trunk, close my eyes, and breathe in the essence of the land. In exchange, I feel the breath of the land touching my skin with molecules of leaves its passed through, whispering in my ears of its travels near and far, dancing into my nasal cavities the scents of distant memories. The rough bark of the aged tree is like an old farmer’s hands, having toiled and stood firm through the cycles of life, nearing the end of its own but yearning to share its wisdom if only someone would listen.

My family has lived in the Missouri Ozarks for over 150 years, not in this exact location where I am now, but an hour or so further north on flatter land. I’ve been gone from this landscape for more than 40 years, only recently returned. Most of my ancestors arrived from every early colony up and down the eastern seaboard, and traveled across a wide swath of the eastern United States; we also have drops of indigenous blood, married into along the way. So, while I have often felt strong links to various landscapes in my country, connections that go beyond “an aesthetic appreciation” (despite American Indian scholar Vine Deloria arguing against this ability in non-Indians to have a spiritual resonance with this land), I am enjoying the ease with which I am becoming reacquainted with the Ozarks and her unique landscape, and I have no doubt that my ancestors’ spirits are assisting me in this journey.IMG_0357

Some of these ancestors came from Ireland, Scotland, and even Wales; places where their own roots had become inseparable from those of the land and I can imagine the pain they must have felt in being “exiled” (as the Irish say about those who for economic or other reasons felt forced to leave their homeland in order to survive), their roots to the land cut after hundreds, even thousands of years. The writer Patricia Monaghan says, in her book The Red-Haired Girl from the Bog: The Landscape of Celtic Myth and Spirit, that, there in the Ireland of her roots, “human consciousness has met the land’s consciousness,” and this is my own current path of American exploration. Not just to know the landscape as, for instance, this is a Black Oak, and this is a wild Grape Vine; or that some plants here are new arrivals and non-natives, while others are ancient offspring. Rather, how all sink their roots into the same soil to be nurtured. As do I, seeking to to know the land as part of my blood and bones and soul.

These “mystic encounters with the land” are difficult to describe; Monaghan says that she has “heard elusive inaudible music singing forth from land that is wild but nevertheless deeply known by humanity” and I know what she means. What might be our inaudible conversation with the conscious land? How might our healing be mutual?

Calan Mai

It’s probably no surprise that I delight in May Day, referred to as Calan Mai by the Celtic Welsh, or as Beltane by the Irish; after all, this holy day occurs during my personal solar birth sign of Taurus, providing much needed invigoration for my otherwise introverted and low-ebb way of being. This year, I celebrate from May 1st (solar date) to May 8th (lunar date; the first full moon in Taurus). Alas, the only flowers on my property right now are some tattered and rain-soaked pale yellow Irises, although the pink Peonies are getting close to blooming (and I’m grateful that they are waiting until after the past few days of pelting, severe rainfall.

Pole Leaning in Finley River Flood Zone 043017

Finley River Flooding

While full summer heat can quickly wilt me, this early entrance to summer time that I connect more with spring, when even the sleepy oaks in the Ozarks have finally awakened into verdant splendor, is one “awash with the vibrant intensity of all things green and growing as a fertile wave of vital energy crashes across the landscape.” (Telyndru, p. 130) This year, the crashing waves have been literal as this last weekend of April brought torrential rains that have produced formidable flooding that wash away roads and bridges, and cause power poles to tilt dangerously. The heavy rains also wash away winter and spring’s detritus. Now will come the time to plant and nurture.

It is said that “there is very little difference between burying and planting,” that we often “need to put dead things to rest, so that new life can grow,” and that “the thing put to rest … becomes the fertilizer for the life about to form.” I have indeed experienced an extended cycle of dying where I resisted putting the past to rest, and was suffering from “wearing a dead and useless skin.” I do tend to hold to what is familiar within myself; while I knew intellectually about my need to let go, my inner self was reluctant:

“One self carries us to the extent of its usefulness and dies. We are then forced to put that once beloved skin to rest, to join it with the ground of spirit from which it came, so it may fertilize the next skin of self that will carry us into tomorrow.” (Nepo, p. 145)

Am I ready to begin anew?

This time of the year corresponds to the Station of Emergence in the Avalonian Cycle of Healing; this cycle “is a symbolic distillation of the soul’s journey from roundedness to wholeness, from inauthenticity to sovereignty, and from disconnection to connection with the Divine.” (Telyndru, p. 13) This station in the cycle of healing–and Calan Mai in the annual agricultural cycle of life–is one significant for manifesting our dreams and potential. And, since manifestation or achieving goals has always been a challenge for me, this cycle has particular potency; I have lots and lots of “seeds” within, it’s growing them up, out, and into the world that is my challenge.

Missouri spring cave by Bill Duncan

Missouri Cave/Spring, (c) Bill Duncan

I have been intrigued by how this station is aligned with The White Spring in the Avalonian Landscape because the Ozarks topography (where I moved 18 months ago) is a haven for springs … and caves. The White Spring’s waters “rise from deep within the earth … percolating through the limestone caverns beneath the Tor” and our southern Missouri landscape is a veritable limestone “cave factory” (nearly 6,600 caves). I’ve always loved caves, and have been within many of them, but this is the first time that I’ve thought of them as part of an emergence process because of the waters and springs that create them.

I have no doubt that I am here in the Ozarks for a specific purpose, and that the Goddess will guide me through the journey.

___________

Telyndru, Jhenah. Avalon Within: A Sacred Journey of Myth, Mystery, and Inner Wisdom.

Nepo, Mark. The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You Have.

Celtic Healing Ways

When we seek beyond patriarchal and Christian overlays upon the Celtic pagan past, we find unexpected treasures within the healing ways that have been handed down, remnants though they might be. The holism that I follow in my personal healing ways for self (and clients) is mirrored by these patterns in Celtic practices: healing is a spiritual path.

Flame Pendant

Talisman

In spite of modern conventional medicines continued efforts to obliterate ancient, traditional, or indigenous healing systems, we regularly see a rise in the latter. Author Noragh Jones points out that, “throughout the history of medicine, ordinary people have gone on using herbal remedies and faith healing alongside or instead of professional medicine.” (P. 137) I believe that the faith healing aspect comprises far more than we currently can conceive, and goes beyond what has been recorded, and unfortunately derided, in history as runes or spells, prayers or magic by wise women and shamans.

Herbalism has an absolutely prominent place in healing. No doubt about it, whether in the past or the present. But there were usually unseen energies (of the plants’ elementals and/or of the spirit realm) that accompanied the herbs in their work and, I believe, were often of greater value to the overall healing itself, as referenced that there is “a sense that illness is some kind of imbalance in the individual, and so mind and body and spirit must be treated as a whole; and a conviction that healing is a spiritual resource as well as a physical process.” (P. 138) Some of the conventional medical establishment is starting to recognize these unseen powers of healing; from the encouragement of meditation and visualization, to healing touch and Reiki, to how nature influences the healing process (being able to see a park or trees outside a patient’s window). Within this realm of unseen healing energies lies Essences and Homeopathics, the bridge remedies that are my passion, and which carry healing on all levels of one’s being. Yet most people continue to leave out the spiritual component to healing.

The unseen energies were especially embraced when it came to protection and warding off evil, but also used within the healing itself. For instance, “the caim or encompassing was a way of encircling oneself or another with the spiritual protection of [one’s Deity] so as to keep at bay danger or distress, death and doom and the malice of ill-disposed persons.” (P. 142) Herbs and plants were used, but it usually wasn’t their physical substances that were being invoked. And, whether we call the encircling based upon psychology or spirituality, I believe they come from the same place: the soul.

As Jones points out: “It was impossible for a people who expressed their spirituality through the ordinary everyday activities, to draw a clear dividing line between their herbal medicine, their part-pagan runes and their faith healing. Healing was a spiritual as well as a practical activity which demanded of the healer not just plant knowledge but a quiet and serious intent, undivided attention, and faith in a power greater than themselves.” (P. 139) This old-world view of holistic healing is one I resonate with; a true healing occurs throughout one’s being, not simply in the body. In fact, if a dis-ease is addressed solely on a physical level, by either healer or recipient, then it will recur, either in the same form and place or, often, by moving elsewhere into an additional area of susceptibility.

Keeping this holism in mind, for those of us who do not collect our own herbs, essences, or homeopathics, we must rely upon our sources for their dedication to the healing path as a sacred one, or at the very least, an honorable calling (i.e., not just in it for the money). Jones reminds us that, “the quiet ingathering of healing energies began when the healer went out to other the healing plants.” (P. 139) This intention would encompass lunar and solar cycles and seasons, as well as the consciousness and spiritual awareness of the healer. Further, the wise woman knew that “as a healer you are only an instrument of higher grace and are nothing in your own right.” (P. 150) The healer would be conscious of the part they played in the healing process, and “had their own preparations to make as well as their charms to utter over the patient. They would bend down and place their two palms on the ground to get in touch, and at the end they would wash their hands in running water, to draw new energy from the earth and to wash away the burden of the disease that they had drawn out of the sufferer.” (P. 153)

Holistic healers were not ignorant of the unseen influences that surrounded them, whether they were of Celtic descent or from elsewhere in the world. Jones states in regard to this that, “Although their treatments were a blend of faith and magic runes and practical herbalism, the Gaels had the beginnings of a system to explain the ills they saw around them and experienced personally in their own lives.” (P. 150) These people believed that much dis-ease was caused by tiny, unseen life forms and energies; they didn’t know how these were inherited but saw that some lines — whether human or animal — were more afflicted than others. Thus, charms or runes were often needed from the healer that went beyond the mere physical: “In many healing runes the feeling is that the hurt or disease is something evil that has found its way into the body and can be shifted out of it if the right formula is found and applied in the right spirit.” (P. 151) From my own perspective, this “evil” arises from our own human frailty, ego and ignorance; from our fear or hate or shame. Since our evil within arises from our own lack of self-realization, then the energies of sacred nature can assist us in addressing that unawareness, and a conscious healer can support this journey. While in our modern society we tend to separate rather than integrate the various functions of wellness providers—we have psychologists and spiritual advisors, therapists, counselors, and medical practitioners—in the past there was more often simply the holistic wise woman of the village.

Beyond the unseen energetics of plants, we have those situated in place or land, from sacred hills or valleys, to sacred springs and wells. We find that, “the spirits of the wells were particular and local, but all were connected with the profound powers of below ground, the underworld of Mother Earth, source of fundamental energies.” (P. 159) There were often animal or tree guardians of these places, themselves imbued with healing powers and to whom offerings were made. But certainly healing springs and wells have been prominent in Celtic past through legends and myths.

Healing work, within and without, has been a part of my own spiritual path for nearly twenty years. Thanks be to Brigid.

___________

For quotes, see Power of Raven, Wisdom of Serpent: Celtic Women’s Spirituality by Noragh Jones; Chapter 6, Woman of Healing.

Unseen Healing

IMG_0456Among the unseen is the healing. This be within air, fire, water, earth, and ether. This be within plant, animal, and mineral. This be within feeling, thought, soul, and spirit. We know not the unseen that brings these into form and formless expression.

I know in my soul that before the patriarchy there was a different perception of life, though we cannot confirm definitively how that was. Our meager human minds seek the solid but pass over the subtle. We see what we want to see. Even among modern pagan paths, rarely is found the expansive vision needed to go beyond substance to subtlety for boundless healing.

Hidden in the past, among the mists of times long ago, before recorded history there was an acceptance that the unseen could do the work without the need of form.

Some accept energy work of the body (“healing hands” or “healing touch”), far fewer embrace the unseen resonance that is beyond the herbs in their physical forms. Many cling to only a substantive view of wise women as herbalists, without opening to the wider and deeper vibrations within the plants, within their elementals. Some accept that magic was normal in bygone eras, yet cannot release an attachment to substance in order to embrace the unseen.

I hold to the frequencies of the unseen in healing. Yet, I too need to go deeper, open wider, allow more freedom of consciousness to touch the true essence of the unseen in healing. Our minds restrict, our souls allow us access.

Bridge remedies, I call them, these Essences and Homeopathics. New method, ancient wisdom. The energetic patterns are the unseen, yet we still feel a need for the carrier. Maybe one day, we won’t.

Thanks be to Brigid for healing in all Her abundant ways.

Sublime Sunset

Sunset February 2017

In nearly all of my spiritual studies, much emphasis is placed upon the blessings of sunrise or pre-sunrise; this is presented as the optimum time and space for connecting with Self and the Divine. However, even though I have taken up the practice of rising before dawn quite a few times these past ten years, I still feel little resonance with sunrise. Sunset though? Ah, now that is an entirely different experience.

Sunset is the liminal space in which I feel a deep connection with all aspects of life and the unseen world. The moments after sunset are exquisite … I’m filled with gratitude and serenity. I breathe a sigh that seems to come from another world, from ancestors, from the benevolence of Gaia as some of us move toward sleep while a mysterious world awakens all around us. Sunset heralds the darkness of womb and cave and cauldron where magic happens.

I’ve read that the Celts believed the new day began at dusk … perhaps it is my Celtic roots that entangle themselves in my evening  shimmer of delight.

Threads

A beautiful essay was written by Christy Croft that I share here: Intellectual Curiosity as Holy Devotion.

The author touches on many themes that resonate with me; she and I share a similar path. As she writes about how to embrace the tension of opposites, she states evocatively that

I’m still learning how to knit these threads. Sometimes, I do so with the tight, precise stitches of academic study and critical reflection; other times I do so with the loosest of weaves, dancing between theology, personal narrative, myth, metaphysics, and ecstatic mysticism in my everyday language as if there were no divisions, no binding categories of speech or cognition. It’s a work in progress. I’m a work in progress.