To the Druids, long before Christianity, Christmas was about the Birth of the Faery Babe, or Radiant Child. This is the story that I see being played out what other people call the Glastonbury Zodiac on the Somerset Levels, a 10-mile wide circular landscape temple where the “stars have fallen to the Earth” to create 13 giant earthworks – as the map shows below:
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.
This article forms the beginning of a shamanic quest for my readers to help them understand and work with the imagery contained within my books that are based on Celtic magic. So if you’ve just stumbled into this Mystery Teachings class, you may want to go to the Introduction first, and then follow the links from there.
Before we start the shamanic or magical work for healing the Wounded Queens with the Thirteen Treasures of Britain, we need to get in touch with what needs healing within us because our power will come from what originally disempowered us. 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.
If you want to eradicate evil from the face of the Earth, then you are like the person who wants to ban fire because forest fires kill wildlife.
What you are calling “evil” – because it is never absolute and always relative – is an integral part of the Creation and necessary for the Earth to survive and thrive. What you are calling “evil” is also inside you, and it needs to be faced and dealt with, just as a forest fire does when it is raging out of control. Continue reading
You’re wondering why everything is so confusing right now and even if you’re given the opportunity to vote, or to support a political party, you don’t know who to back?
That’s probably because the Deep State, which all over all the political parties like a nasty rash, is actually now at war with itself. It’s really nothing much to do with us cannon-fodder except if we can figure out who is going to promote our best interests, at least we will know who to cheer from the sidelines as these two primeval monsters slug it out. Continue reading
“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