June | 2023 | Contemplative Inquiry

This is Tynemouth, in North Tyneside. My wife Elaine and I are here for a few days with simple pleasures in mind. A year ago we were thinking of migrating to these parts. It was an in some ways stressful period of choosing between two good options: moving somewhere completely new and moving within Gloucester. In the end we chose Gloucester and it’s working very well.

Yet there is always something tantalising about the road not travelled, the choice not actually made. It still has an energy, not to be repressed or neglected. So here we are today, on the North Sea coast, in the best of summer. Loving the shoreline and the sea.

June 21, 2023

FIVE IMAGES: MIDSUMMER CELEBRATION 2023

The five images in this blog record a dedicated solstice walk, an evening walk beginning 8 pm on 20 June. For me, the solstice period lasts around a week ending on 25 June. I like to acknowledge the stasis (standstill) element. My festival practice is not about a moment in time so much as honouring an extended pause before the wheel turns, at first slowly, towards the dark.

I sought immersion in the unique and sacred flavour of this day at this time in this place. I do not believe my images ‘capture’ that flavour – now gone with the moment it belonged to. But the pictures do provide a suggestive record of that time. They help my memory. They remind me especially that my experience of this practice in 2023 differs from that of 2022, when I first undertook it as a solo, contemplative form of midsummer celebration. (See: https://contemplativeinquiry.blog/2022/06/24/.)

The first image (above) is of Llanthony Priory gardens, dominated this evening by a dramatic sky. Sunlight shines through heavy clouds, dark and suggestive of a storm that we had largely missed in Gloucester. Three canalside images (below) also display the energy of clouds with the sun backlighting them. I find both beauty and power here, indeed a strong sense of powers greater than mine, and indeed of ours collectively. This year, my seasonal immersion has an edge. A modern Druid, I celebrate the seasons and reverence the elements. But I certainly don’t own them, or decide how they are meant to be.

During my walk I spent a lot of time with my eyes turned upwards and skywards, with hints of both awe and foreboding. I understand how sky god spiritualites work. But I also looked across and down and found new life. A pair of swans and their cygnets were finding space on the water on a busy small marina. It is now surrounded by housing on three sides, yet they seemed flourishing and confident. Storm clouds of many kinds threaten. Life goes defiantly on.

June 14, 2023

BOOK REVIEW: STAFF OF LAUREL, STAFF OF ASH

“If our place is imperilled, so are our myths. If we heal the one, we heal the other … So said priestesses who long ago spoke in the voice of doves. So said the prophetic oaks they tended, who murmured to their suppliants through wind blown leaves.”(1)

Staff of Laurel, Staff of Ash: Sacred Landscapes in Ancient Nature Myth is an inspirational collection of interwoven contemplations on landscape and myth; on enchantment, disenchantment and re-enchantment. I strongly recommend it to anyone with an interest in these themes.

Author Dianna Rhyan says of her own approach to writing: “assembled, these pages refused to assemble, and so altogether, they form a series of sketches, fallen like samaras*, whose order is ultimately undetermined. The priestess of Apollo wrote her prophecies on leaves. When strong winds came, they scattered all over her cave. Did she mind? Amidst the leaves, voices of winds and voices of trees, lost and found, thread their way.” This review shares something of the book’s flavour, rather than attempting a linear account of what is covers.

Rhyan draws strength from wild and marginal spaces, especially the Cuyahoga River in north eastern Ohio. She describes her close relationship with the land but is all too aware of a sadness in its silence. The genocidal displacement of the people who once lived there has erased their stories about this land and their relationship with it. As a mythologist, she looks further afield for inspiration, especially ancient Mesopotamia (now Iraq) and the early Greek speaking world. Even four thousand years ago, in the early Sumerian world, people had doubts about ‘civilisation’. We find the contrasting influences of the laurel, which blooms, and the ash, “a battle-earned artifact”.

In the Epic of Gilgamesh (2) the hero destroys a forest and its guardian at an early stage of his “futile immortality quest” and then goes out of his way to offend the Mother Goddess Inanna. In The Descent of Inanna, she herself must experience death, losing her identity and powers as she descends through seven gates to the Underworld controlled by her sister Ereshkigal. Asking, at each gate, ‘Gatekeeper, why is this done?’, she receives the reply ‘Silence, Inanna. Do not open your mouth against custom. The rules of the Great Below are flawless. You may not question what is perfect.’ Rhyan’s reading of this ritualised and repeated reply finds a new order in which free nature, and the Goddess perceived as its embodiment, need to be rigorously controlled. She comments on the way in which perfection “deadens” and rules “disarm”. For three days Inanna hangs dead, a carcass on a hook. But the upper world needs Inanna in order to reproduce itself and flourish. The Wisdom God Enki sends emissaries to Ershkigal to secure Inanna’s release. She does not stay dead.

Rhyan also draws on Greek sources from different periods. One of them, from Sophocles’ last play, Oedipus at Colonus, is about the final days of Oedipus, after he has blinded himself and been been exiled from his erstwhile kingdom of Thebes. These misfortunes follow the discovery that he has (unwittingly) killed his father, married his mother and thereby, as a source of pollution, caused a plague in the city. He is told: “seek no more to master anything”.

Oedipus is now a pauper, wandering in a wasteland. Letting go of his civic and social identities and surrendering to this fate, he survives. He is reborn as a child of nature on the goddess haunted mountain Cithaeron. For his awakened inner vision has guided him to the place where he was once, as an infant, left out to die. The compassionate nymphs who nursed him then are perhaps looking out for him once more. He has journeyed from palace to periphery, freed from all power and self-determination. At that point, he is given a new role, as guardian of the sacred grove at Colonus. It is a place beloved by immortals, a place of lush growth, where the nightingale sings, and with “cool waters” that never fail. Here, as this new version of himself, he will live out his days.

Late on in her book, Dianna Rhyan says: “if we look over our shoulder, not only what we threw away as detritus is following us. What we had despaired we had lost forever, long ago in the depths of ancient ages, is following us too. We require myth, intensely alive myth, to see it. It is very good at not being seen.” I see her as making a great contribution to making ‘intensely alive myth’ visible once more.

(1) Dianna Rhyan Staff of Laurel, Staff of Ash: Sacred Landscapes in Ancient Nature Myth Winchester, UK & Washington, USA: Moon Books, 2023

(2) https://contemplativeinquiry.blog/2023/05/30/

*Samaras: here, the winged maple seeds found in the author’s local woodlands.

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June 9, 2023

HOW PAGAN WAS MEDIEVAL BRITAIN?

How Pagan Was Medieval Britain? is the sixth and final lecture in Professor Ronald Hutton’s Gresham College series on early Pagan history in Britain (1). The simple answer, according to Hutton, is: not as much as was widely believed in the twentieth century, by scholars and the lay public alike. Some thought that full medieval Christianity was an upper class faith, with commoners, especially in the countryside, being ‘cheerful semi-Pagans’, Christian by day and following the old ways by night. Others thought that the two religions ran in parallel, with the latter being necessarily clandestine whilst some of its iconography was visible. Green Man and Sheela na Gig images, often present in the churches themselves, seemed to indicate the survival of a Pagan sensibility at the very least – canny concessions by the Church to the people. Witch persecutions were seen as evidence of an active, surviving woman centred nature religion. Indeed, such ideas influenced cultural and religious developments in the twentieth century itself – specifically, the rise of neo-Paganism; more broadly, the Feminist and Green movements that were dynamically emerging at the time.

However, turning to the medieval period itself, Hutton, does not find evidence of actually existing Pagan religion in the available sources. Witch trials have been carefully examined in recent years, and the victims don’t fit the profile. In Anglo-Saxon times, the legal codes and church councils stopped bothering to forbid Christian converts their old ways by 800 CE. The prohibitions reappeared in the tenth century, in relation to Viking settlers, but ceased again by 1030 CE. In the later middle ages there was serious concern over Christian heretics (Lollards) and some concern over ale-house cynics expressing anti-religious views. In medieval society people tended be nosy about other people’s business and there was social pressure to conform. There are court cases that draw on this kind of informal surveillance, but none concerned with Pagan religious practice. Hutton traces Sheela Na Gig images to the Church in France, saying that they had an anti-erotic intent. Likewise, Green Man, Wild Man and Jack in the Green figures have specific historical origins not concerned with any Pagan deity. Hutton quite reasonably offers no comment on their widely perceived role as archetypal images, because these are outside the remit of the empirical historian. His focus is on self-defined and organised Pagan religion during a specific period in Britain.

But it is true, according to Hutton, that the medieval church offered religious continuity in other ways. The veneration of saints, who were very diverse and numerous, allowed polytheist habits of mind to continue, especially in the realm of petitionary prayer. Individual saints might be local, or specialists in specific forms of help. For many people they seemed more approachable than the persons of the trinity. However in Britain there seem to have been no saints who had themselves once been gods*. Likewise Christians had holy wells, but they were different from the old Pagan ones, rather than the same ones repurposed. The temple of Sulis Minerva at Bath, for example, was left alone. Few temples or ancient religious sites became churches, even though Pope Gregory had recommended this approach when he sent his mission to Kent in 597 CE.

Church attendance was not compulsory in the middle ages. It is estimated that only around 50% of parishioners attended regularly, though they did turn up in much larger numbers for the major festivals. During these, ‘secular revelry’ was allowed, even encouraged, and the festivals raised a lot money for Parish churches, enabling them at times to abolish Parish rates. This widely beneficial outcome was seen as ‘cheating the Devil’. Even on normal days, the Church offered spectacle – with the mass, libations and incense. Local priests came from the people, didn’t have to be literate, and didn’t have to preach. That was done by specialist friars with notable performance skills, often very popular. Additionally, many people belonged to guilds linked to their churches, usually focused around a saint. There were lay religious guilds for both women and men, which had a variety of purposes, officered by their own lay members. Craft guilds performed plays at festival times. This form of Christian culture lasted in Britain until the middle of the sixteenth century, when the old church fragmented into a plurality of new ones over hard-fought time. Different kinds of Christian culture, generally even less Pagan friendly, emerged.

(1) https://www.gresham.ac.uk/watch-now/medieval-pagan/

* An exception would be the Gaelic speaking areas in Scotland and Brighid

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June 3, 2023

BOOK REVIEW: THE TORCH OF BRIGHID

Highly recommended for anyone interested in Brighid, Celtic spirituality and the evolving culture of modern Paganism. In The Torch of Brighid, Erin Aurelia eloquently describes her flame tending path as a devotee of the Goddess Brighid. For her, this is a path of celebration, contemplation, creativity and deep personal change. Her book shares the fruits of a remarkable journey.

The author makes clear that she is not reconstructing a past Pagan practice. No such practice is known. She references a Christian history dating from 480 CE, where nuns maintained a sacred flame at Kildare in Ireland. This was documented as still in place in the later 12th century CE by Gerald of Wales in his History and Topography of Ireland. It was repressed by the English King Henry VIII – who also ruled Ireland – as part of his violent religious revolution of the 1530s and 40s. On 1 February 1993, flame tending was revived both by Catholic Brigantine sisters in Kildare by the neo-Pagan Daughters of the Flame in Vancouver, BC. Both groups were influenced by Gerald of Wales’ description.

Erin Aurelia has been a flame tender for 20 years. She began in the Daughters of the Flame and then founded her own Order, the Nigheanan Brigde Flametending Order, going on to lead it for eight years. The original model involved moving through cycles of twenty days, in which nineteen flame tenders take a day each to tend the flame, leaving the Goddess to take care of the twentieth. Erin found that she wanted an intensified practice and a closer fellowship with other Brighid devotees. During those years, she writes: “Brighid inspired me to develop guided meditations to use during vigils, seasonal feasts, and lunar phases”. Later came “the template for a whole new way to practice flame tending: the way that the flame tending cycle matches with the twenty letters of the traditional Irish tree ogham alphabet, in which each alphabet letter is denoted by a tree and infused with esoteric meaning”. She describes herself as “enthralled and excited” by this discovery, which lead on to daily communing with Brighid and a fuller development of her work.

She found the process transformative, and learned that “growth is not only made through obtaining wisdom, but by implementing it. And Brighid showed me that I can effectively implement it by embodying her own skills as Shaper, Healer, Seer, and Transformer. Through embodying her skills, I became empowered”. In the narrative of her own journey, Erin shows her willingness to innovate, take initiatives, lead when called to do so, and also step back from leadership. Her relationship with ancient culture is to be inspired by it without being bound by it. I see her as modelling the best of modern Pagan practice in these respects.

Erin provides extensive information on her flame tending vigils, and how to set them up. She shares prayers, meditations and path workings. She includes her unique approach to ogham work, and also her own way of working energetically with the traditional ‘three cauldrons’ (of warming, vocation and knowledge). She shares her ways of working through the four Irish fire festivals from Imbolc (1 Feb.) to Bealtaine (1 May} to Lughnasadh (1 Aug.) to Samhain (1 Nov.). She has an Imbolc advent practice centred around the four Sundays prior to Imbolc – because it starts the year in this tradition and is specifically dedicated to Brighid. Her book is a powerful addition to the growing literature about Brighid as a much loved Goddess.

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Contemplative Inquiry

Month: June, 2023

June 26, 2023

A ROAD NOT TRAVELLED