This wonderful poem by Amara Bronwyn MacEachern Hollow Bones sums up, in a nutshell, everything about the specialised shamanic path that I write and teach about.
We locked up our wisdom into our bones
And swallowed the keys
They sank in our rivers of blood
And we forgot the maps
Because we had to forget the mysteries
To keep them safe.
We wove our hair into brooms
And swept over our paths
And then burned the earth with our rage
We didn’t teach our children
It was the only way to protect them,
But in them we planted seeds, seeds and keys
And told them stories and riddles and songs
With no roots, just tangled threads
That would take years to unwind
Just enough time
For the rains to fall again
and put out the fires
For the dams to break
For the rivers to flood
For the paths
to be walked again
For the soil to breathe
And as the old bones crumble
Deep beneath the rubble
We find we’ve always had the keys
Our stories and our maps
Our paths are revealed to some
And the seeds grow again
The threads are unspun
And woven again.
When I do Tarot readings, I say to the person I’m reading for: “You have the opportunity now to ask a question of God or the Higher Power, whatever that means to you – man, woman or unspecified something,” and they usually reply, “Well, I believe in something, but I’m not sure what.”
I’ve come to realise that that the “something, but not sure what,” seems to be the cognitive landmark that many have now reached since seeing through the false narratives of religions that were only ever designed to control us, not to spiritually empower us. It was a story that gave us a foothold on the path when we were but children in our spiritual progress but, now that we’re growing up, we realise that God is probably not an old man in the sky like this version by Michelangelo on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome, who sends fire and brimstone in our direction whenever we displease him.
The Winter Solstice will fall just before dawn breaks over the British Isles after the longest night of the year on Thursday 21st December. To me, this is such a beautiful time when there are unique energies at play that heal the emotional despair and suffering accrued during the previous thirteen moons, and send rejuvenation and fresh hope and inspiration for the coming turn of the calendrical wheel. Continue reading
Classic Grail literature, scribed by the Normans around the 12th century, concentrates on the Wounded King archetype – one which is immensely valuable for deep inner healing at the shamanic level. But I go back much further into the Celtic roots of these stories and so I will be describing, in a series of articles here, how to work magically with the Wounded Queen archetype because it is through Sovereignty rites that a Queen of the inner planes makes a wounded man into a King of Earth.
The doorways to the Enchanted Land of the Magical Queens is plain to see in my books and the keys to their locks are all there too for those who can recognise them. However, through lack of a proper education many today cannot recognise the keys or know what to do with them. So these articles will help you find them, and also teach you how to work magically with them yourself. This will enable you to develop your own connection to the spirit of Sovereignty of this land, which, in turn, will empower and enlighten you to realise your own inner Queen. Continue reading
I hope you like the beautiful wrought gilded chalice gracing the cover of my new book The Grail Mysteries as much as I do. It was commissioned by Abbot Suger of St Denis, France, in the twelfth century, while its sardonyx cup was made in Alexandria in the second century BCE.
Those who know about sacred sex magic will instantly recognise why Abbot Suger’s chalice makes a most appropriate cover for a mythic tale which explores that subject in depth. This chalice is symbolic of the Marriage of the Sun and the Moon, the alchemical operation that is at the heart of the ancient mysteries of the Grail which is about the shamanic form of sex that has always underpinned Sovereignty. Continue reading
I sometimes feel like a story archaeologist. I have a mental image of myself, digging and digging and digging underneath all the rotting story mats of the wandering troubadors and tale-tellers of old. Some of those story mats are quite ragged by now; others have gone decidedly mouldy.
However, the deeper I dig, the closer to the original story I get. And then, if I’m lucky, I can find the shamanic themes that ran through what we now call ‘myths’ which show the wisdom of our earliest ancestors – a wisdom that is sadly lacking in much of today’s literary offerings. I then weave these myths into my own stories in a way that I think better reflects their true, multi-dimensional nature.
Most of the ancient myths that have survived and are available to us today were translated either by Christian monks or by PhD students and, as far as I know, none of them were translated by shamans, like me, and that’s why I keep on digging – and sometimes, I hit gold.
“HERE she comes,” muttered Cerridwen, through glinting black diamond teeth, as the dark silhouette of a woman came suddenly into view against the pinkening skies on the horizon, running across the top of an undulating field before vanishing again into the dew-laden deeps of the darkening gloaming.
Cerridwen’s wizened snake’s eyes had been scouring the horizon for hours, while she stirred her cauldron with a long silvery ash stick that was almost as gnarled and twisted as herself.
With one black eye firmly fixed on the ever-duskening fields in the distance as the setting sun began to cast its long creeping shadows, she watched from the corner of the other as the Scorpion goddess constellation slowly rose, glittering like an ice crystal palace against the lapis lazuli celestial vault. Continue reading
We’ve been on such a wild helter skelter ride, lately – a virtual Apocalypse of political revelations – that it’s easy to get mesmerised watching the marionettes on the world stage as they try to cling on to power while the hurricane of the spirit of Sovereignty challenges their citadels.
That said, I want to tell you about my new book, The Bright World of the Gods, which is based on the stories of our own indigenous culture. That’s because, in my experience, geo-political events don’t just happen randomly in a vacuum. When they are an organic ‘populist’ expression, they are the end result of an impetus that springs forth from the hearts and minds of the people and that has its source in spirituality first, and then culture.
This is a real faery story …
The Bright World of the Gods was gifted into my Dreamtime by the spirits of the land that inhabit the other dimensions permeating the Vale of Avalon, in Somerset, England. These spirits are known locally as the Gentle Folk, or the Fae, although you might know them better as faeries. So this is a real faery story for enlightened adults from a benevolent Elder race whose role it is to guide the steps of humanity. Continue reading
When the people of Britain voted to leave the European Union in June 2016, the word on everyone’s lips was Sovereignty.
But what is Sovereignty?
There were some who tried to convince the British people that Sovereignty didn’t really exist, or that if it did, it was over-rated. A few self-styled experts claimed that Sovereignty could be extended or pooled; others insisted that Sovereignty was merely “the ability to get things done.”
All of those pundits were wrong – although they were hardly to blame for their errors. Sovereignty actually starts off life as a spiritual transmission from the spirits of the land, but this is no longer taught to the general populace. Continue reading