the raven

Yesterday we walked west along the Thames from the Walbrook to the Fleet and a bit beyond. In the computer simulations of my imagination (superior even to the excellent displays in the Museum of London – I loved those huts and the bonfire materialising in the empty landscape) London’s past shimmered behind the towerblocks along the riverbanks.

As an opener that deserves to go into Pseuds’ Corner in Private Eye.

In plainer English, what fun we had standing on the foreshore of the river, attuning to the spirit of Tamesis and best of all making significant archaeological finds – my Roman shard, fragments of 18th Century porcelain, sections of clay pipe and discarded Victorian oyster shell are on my altar as I write. Walking against the wind was like swimming through a different kind of water; the sun dazzled; a peregrine falcon perched nonchalantly on a ledge on the high tower of Tate Modern. Did we see it (or another ?) later, slicing through the air under the rail bridge at Charing Cross ?

Thanks, Hilde – and everyone who was there – and lets hope that the prayers consigned to the Thames in a rain of flowers and a little black velvet bag of crystal jewels come true.

Some very nice peeps are working to establish a permanent goddess temple in London.

They have created one at Kingston, where you can visit them. We met them last weekend at a conference where they created a temporary goddess temple for the event. The web site is www.london-goddess-temple.org
The London Goddesss temple. The beacon, 42b Richmond rd, Kingston on Thames Surrey KT2 5EE.

posted by chris street. starman@earth-stars.com

So far, the workshop in the series Pwyll, Rhiannon and the Spirits of the Land have been a great success. It has been a joy seeing people making contact with their own guiding spirits and the spirits of place. There are still some places left for the next session, so if you would like to come along, please let me know.

1 October (Sunday) 11 am – 6pm
Treadwell’s Bookshop, 34 Tavistock Street, Covent Garden
£40, concessions available

Pwyll and Rhiannon have a child. But bringing the fruit of Otherworldly inspiration into the world is not a simple task. Rhiannon’s son is taken from her, and only after faithful service is he returned to her.

In Celtic mythology, many stories are told of a mother losing her young child and going through long suffering before she gets him back. These stories are symbolic of what happens to our own creativity. Often, when we have finally found a project that makes our hearts sing, the confidence to see it through fails us. It is as though we have just given birth to something, only to lose it again.

The story of Rhiannon’s loss and her service at the gate teaches us how faithfulness to our work will bring the song back to our hearts. Thankfully, there are many resources we can call on to overcome this dark night of the soul. In this workshop we will draw on some of them, so we can celebrate the return of our creativity.

You will:
• become aware of the obstacles that stop you from living the life you desire.
• learn about the power of accepting your wounds and the wounds of your land.
• find the power that will help you overcome these obstacles.
• explore the practical consequences of your calling to work with Spirit.
• take part in a celebration of the return of the Otherworld Child.

We were guided by Trui to a glade in a remnant of Epping Forest, adjoining Wanstead Park. Lorraine thought the trees were possibly limes, but none of us were sure. Water (a man made water course) curved around us to the East and South.

After the usual hovering around not being quite sure what to do, perhaps symptomatic of the switch from everyday London lives to a deeper, more Druidic way of seeing and being, we settled down to share what had been passing through our hearts and our lives in this new autumn season. As befitted the time, there were sombre themes of depression and fear at the prospect of winter, some feelings of disorientation, as well as an acceptance of the coming season and its potential for growth in the darkness. Lorraine talked of planting her crocuses, and I remembered that I had planted some snowdrop bulbs that week. Autumn could be a time of new beginnings as well as the loss of summer.

A theme emerged of the continuing jouney of our lives, difficult and challenging more often than not, but also coming to times of happiness and greater clarity. Our ritual had at its centre a moment when we each passed out through a doorway into the wood to return and pass through the gateway of the Equinox, back to our containing cirle from whence we could continue on into the autumn and winter, and eventually back to the energies of spring. Trui, true to form had a surprise up his sleeve (or in his bag) and gave us each an ear of corn with the words “The seed of wisdom grows in the darkness”. (I think I may have this wrong folks so correct me please !)

After the ceremony, which I, at least found very powerful, surrounded as we were by the cries of mallard and moorhen, Trui’s bag produced some mead which we shared with a suitably autumnal feast of grains, nuts and dried fruits with the very welcome tea produced from Greg’s capacious rucksack with minimum fuss. I just couldn’t resist reading Keats’ Ode to Autumn which catches the drowsy beauty of autumn perfectly.

And so, back through the suburbia of Wanstead and home after a sojourn in the pub for some of us.

Thanks Trui, and everyone – and it was nice to have Christine and Mike with us. Hope to see you again.

Having been away from Druidry for a couple of years, I was a bit
apprehensive about going and meeting all new people in the group. We met at Wanstead
Tube Station and there were seven of us in all, four men and three women, which
is a more or less an equal balance, which I thought was good. I had been
told the ritual was going to be an ad hoc one which meant that we would decide
on the nature of the ceremony when we got there, so I did not know what to
expect.

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