the raven

Liz wrote:

Thanks Cilla. You’ve said it much more economicaly than me but here is my piece.

We met at Sydenham Hill Station. There were Cilla, Kris and myself, and Jo and Mike. Trui did very well and was only about half an hour late, Jan, a long time solitary pagan joined us for the first time.

The weather was perfect. Clear blue sky and a melting frost, the skeletal trees showing to best advantage as we did an impromptu talking twig session outside the station (although I had remembered most other things I had forgotten to bring the talking stick). We reviewed the year and thought about where we were at this moment of the sun’s movement away from the Northern Hemisphere. As ever, this varied but we were all looking forward to marking the return of the light.

Once we were all there we set off into the woods. There was oak and holly aplenty, and after climbing over a fallen tree, trunk wreathed with thick strands of ivy, we left the path and were drawn ever deeper into the woods until, creeping beneath holly brush we arrived at the perfect glade on the side of a slope, protected by a tall oak tree. The light of a pale amber sun filtered through the branches and blackbirds flitted high up in the trees.

Trui had brought oatmeal to mark out a circle which he did while Kris and Mike (holly king and oak king respectively) prepared crowns of the relevant leaves. Kris’s oak crown, glittering with tinsel was particularly impressive. The ceremony began in the usual way but then came the battle from supremacy between the holly king and the oak king. They were equally matched in strength and histrionic power but eventually the holly king succumbed as the oak king’s spear penetrated his side. He showed great dignity in defeat, knowing, of course, that his time would come again, and that he had the pleasure of resting his head in the deep bosom of the Goddess for six months (I quote Mike’s words in the ceremony).

Then Cilla lit a candle to symbolise the return of the light, and I lit three smaller ones to mark the presence of those of our group who were not there with us. Libations of mead followed, and then a healing meditation for all those in need of it, especially our order and in particular the OBOD camps part of it – which has gone through some turbulence of late. The day was so still that the candles burned steadily throughout these observances with no protection, a small pool of yellow fire resting on the wet rotting leaves.

After closing the ceremony we set off for the pub, it being too cold and damp to sit in the forest with no tarpaulin underneath us (Oh Greg where wert thou?) But getting there proved harder than we anticipated as we were pixie led through the wood in a large circle, in a liminal russet glow as the sun set, making the dead leaves of the occasional beech tree glimmer here and there among the trees. There was a three quarter moon, and the western sky was all those blended shades of pink and orange that are so impossible to describe. It created a foxy light of unreality, which was fitting given that we had had three fox sightings that day: two of them outside the station and one that suddenly streaked past us in the woods, followed a few moments later by a large honey coloured dog. The dog came pell-mell towards our circle, skidding to a halt at the oatmeal border and circling off in pursuit again. Reminders of wildness and cunning and solid faithfulness – qualities sometimes at war in our souls perhaps. Well, OK they are at war in mine. Then one of those weird post ritual picnics that Cilla has described, the relaxation of the time between the ritual that has stripped us momentarily of our worldly concerns and re-entry into that world of electric light and mobile phone signals.

Happy Solstice everyone.

Cilla wrote:

After realising it would be difficult to access Oxleas Wood thanks to British Rail’s ‘investment programme’ (or is that the Tube?), Jo and Mike suggested we return to Dulwich Wood for our Winter Solstice ritual. It was a beautiful day with the setting sun dancing through the bare branches, and turning even the wet leaves on the ground to gold, and the colours deepened as the sunset progressed. Mike had written a small scenario for the battle between the Holly King and the Oak King, with the solstice marking the time of the Holly King’s bi-annual defeat. We watched this slightly tongue-in-cheek graphic illustration with Kris as the Oak monarch and Mike the Holly; and applauded the Oak King’s gradual return to power! We then offered a mead libation to the earth (thanking the bees for their help) and lit candles for those members who couldn’t be with us - in particular Hilde and Andrew. We then repaired to the nearby pub where we feasted on chocolate and carrot cakes, nuts, halva, Indian snacks and warm mulled wine, thoughtfully supplied by Jan, a welcome visitor (whom we hope will return for more events)!
Liz will no doubt give a more substantial report with pictures (I was looking for the Samhain event but got side-tracked into doing this…)

After some to-ing and fro-ing from the local station, five of us assembled at Cobham Park for our Autumn Ritual on Sunday 21^st September.  Cobham Park had fallen into some dereliction in previous years until the Mausoleum featured in the first BBC Restoration series some years ago.  Although it did not win, it did prompt a major restoration project on what is essentially a ‘Folly’ (it was never consecrated and no bodies are interred there) erected by The Darnly family in the 18^th C.  This seems to have brought much life and ‘positive energy’ to the surrounding parkland, riding it of the ‘spooky atmosphere’ I personally encountered when I first went there in the 90s.  The Park lies in Kent, just off the A2, near the village of Cobham (the setting and inspiration for Dickens’ ‘The Pickwick Papers’) south of Gravesend and just east of Meopham.  A bit of a journey for some but it was nice to get out of London and into some real countryside, and still be not to too far from the Great Thames Himself.

On what may turn out to be the last lovely day of the waning summer, we walked into the wood past many a strange, hollowed out and twisted tree.  Some with faces and one with a branch hanging like a crouching dragon.  With all the tree hugging that was going on, I wondered if we would ever get to where we were going.

The area I had chosen for the ritual was a little clearing where some of the old spookiness had seemed most intense all those years ago.  We found a secluded spot (or so we thought!) and  precariously perched on a bit of a slope with brambles catching our clothes and new cloaks – though with a lovely view of the valley below and what I assumed to be some of the North Downs in the distance.

On the way, we found a large twig with a languid, sleepy face on it to use as our Talking Stick and took a round just to catch up on what we were all doing with our lives and how we were all doing.

I had prepared a script for the main part of Ritual celebrating the gathering of the harvest and the gifts of The Goddess.  Liz kindly volunteered the be the Lady Ceridwen Cariadwen for the first part of the Ritual and the second, more informal, part I left up to the group to decide what to do.

After some discussion as to the directions (I will remember to bring a compass next time!), we started, and it was then we discovered that we were not as off the beaten track as we thought as a succession of ramblers and mountain bikers paraded past, some displaying more interest than others and it became apparent that the revitalisation of the woodland was welcoming people once more into its environs.  Once the circle was cast though, we were isolated from any outside influences, merely curious or otherwise, and with the sunlight dappling the ground through the branches of an oak under whose canopy we had selected our spot, I some how managed to direct us through the opening with out too much of a hiccup.  I then bid the Lady Ceridwen Cariadwen to enter our circle and She very kindly obliged us by doing so, bring gifts of the fruits of the earth and the wine of the vine, which were graciously distributed among those assembled.  At some point, the script I had written went out of the window, but I knew when that happened everything was going right and we were being guided in our words by beings higher and wiser than ourselves.

Next, the Lady (Liz) was asked to bless a wheatsheaf which had been kindly given to us by wiccan friends of ours from Wicca Moon (thank you and Bright Blessings on ye!) in Eltham who had used it as part of their own ceremony on Friday night, and asked that it be left as an offering to the place when we left.

After thanking the Lady Ceridwen Cariadwen for Her time and help and Liz was allowed to become just plain old Liz again and we sent healing energies to Hilde who had unexpectedly gone into hospital the day before for some tests – get better soon, Hilde, thinking of you,.

Next, we sat down and for a round of reflection on the summer just passing and our affirmation of what we expect and want to do with our lives over the coming winter months.  On the whole, we all seemed to be rather up-beat with some of us looking forward to new beginnings in our lives or the continuation of important works in progress.

I am not sure how, but I managed to get us through the closing though I am not sure queries of ‘what’s next?’ are included in the ancient rituals of this land – thank you, Cilla, for your timely prompts.

After feasting and finishing of the gifts of the Lady (as well of many libations given to the earth) we followed the path up the hill and paid a visit to the famous Mausoleum – a lovely building, I’d admit, but a little too ‘Classical’ for the setting I thought, I prefer my follies a little more Victorian Gothic.  But, by turning away from it, the view was improved with vistas over some lovely countryside and the near-by (just audible) A2 not obscuring the view in any way.

Somehow, we managed to cram the five of us into my Fiat Punto, and, leaving behind the wheatsheaf – against the base of the oak tree that had kindly sheltered us hopefully to spread some more healing energy around the park and make it even more welcoming than it is now – we headed back to the urban environs of Caer Lundain.

Thank you, to Cilla, Liz, Jo who took the pictures, and new person Kris for coming all that way.  Blessing on you all and Blessing on all who read this!

Mike Firecrow  

Tamesis in July:

Andrew organised a creative woodworking day in his shed. As everyone knows, a man’s shed is his private space. So we were very privileged to be allowed in and share the peace of Andrew’s back garden.

The weather was mostly clement, and the tea - made by Andrew’s wife Juliette - flowed copiously. Greg, Liz and I worked away on our various projects under patient direction of Andrew. Greg made a finishing piece to cap his antler headed staff, Liz started on a staff all her own, and I started my long term ‘ogham in the proper wood’ project.

We also went for a walk along the river that flows behind Andrew’s house. First we greeted a mighty oak, and then had meetings with herons and other wild creatures, not least the river itself.

I remember the warm welcome we received and the delicious food Juliette laid on for us. I also remember Elinore telling us the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, and Charlotte coming home with lovely new shoes.

Tamesis at Lughnasadh:

Lughnasadh is a time of high summer and hot sunshine, right? Wrong. This August was pretty wet and miserable, and our ceremony day was no different. It rained on us non stop. Still, Liz led us in a beautiful ceremony of thanksgiving and offerings, crowned by ‘John Barleycorn’ sung and played by Andrew.

What will abide in my memory is the picnic that followed, though. Greg got his ground sheet out of his pack (it’s the Tardis in there, I tell you - next time we should just have the ceremony inside Greg’s pack) and we had a picnic. In the rain. In Alexandra palace park. It was cold, it was wet, and the food was just lovely. The friendship kept us warm.

What other group of people can you have a picnic in the rain with? We are unique.

Tamesis in August:

Liz, Cilla and I drove to Steffi’s house near Reading for her talk on the Native American traditions she has been working with for many years now. We had a wonderful and very informative afternoon.

Steffi knows her stuff. She told us the tale of her journey into the dancing and singing traditions of the Native American people. Along the way, we learned about the history of the Powwow and the people who organise these gatherings. We heard about how Steffi travelled to America and was a guest at a Powwow there. Her story was so fascinating we hardly noticed the time go by.

We shared home-made apple pie and tea, and listened. When it was time to go home, Steffi felt she hadn’t done her subject justice yet. And we were definitely hungry for more. So we were promised there will be a second part to this informative talk. Can’t wait!

With thanks to Andrew, Liz and Steffi for organising these events, and to everyone who was there for making them what they were.

We returned to the Chiswick Eyot to celebrate the Summer Solstice. Having last been there in February for an initial exploration, it was a shock (though of course it shouldn’t have been) to find it thickly grown with vegetation – a lot of ragwort which I fondly imagined from a distance to be St. John’s Wort – and various umbelliferous plants as well as a symphony of willow leaves blowing in the warm wind.

We met at 10.30 a.m. to take advantage of the low tide. Having climbed up onto the eyot near to what I think of as the ancient triple willow we had the place to ourselves for the ritual. Hilde had journeyed to find the right formula for the ceremony, and the idea was to have candles floating in a bowl of Thames water in the centre of our circle to unify the elements of fire and water. It was a lovely thought and the symbolism of it burned bright in all our hearts. Unfortunately, though, the breeze was os boisterous that the flames went out – fire quenched by air.

We went through an inspiring ceremony. Andrew blessed the circle with well water that I had brought from the Glastonbury Summer Assembly. He splashed it over us with a bunch of water mint from his pond and Kris (one of the four newcomers to the group for this meeting) smudged us with a putatively flaming dried bunch of the same herb. Sadly, our focus at one stage was on healing thoughts for a young man who had been tragically killed in his teens. Some of us knew his fifteen year old girlfriend. I hoped his soul might be finding freedom and joy in some equally beautiful place of sun and wind and water. I spoke for the river, Mark spoke for the sun and Greg spoke for our tribes, ranging from our seedgroup to the larger tribe of humanity. Then, if we wished, we spoke our prayers for our own paths as, at this time of the highest sun we began to turn our attention once more to the dying of the light (though not quite yet, oh Goddess, not yet).

In the days that have followed several of us have expressed how profound a mark this ceremony made on our psyches. Chiefly it was the vibrant greenness of the dancing leaves, the unending flow of the glittering water and the subtle voices of the wind. At one point I looked to my right and watched a heron flying up the river with slow wingbeats, neck elegantly retracted. I felt I was dissolving into the shimmer of this world that is so threatened, melting into the Spirit that will not let the world perish – though we may. Most importantly though, I knew I was not alone in my perceptions and for this brief time stood hand in hand and heart to heart with kindred spirits who were not afraid to express such feelings. A rare privilege in this reality.

Then for a picnic in a small park and three bottles of mead – or was it four. No-one can quite remember.

Thank you Hilde – and everyone – because all the different energies contribute to the unique nature of these precious occasions. It was great to be with old and new friends.

Druid Matt McCabe has created a community garden and orchard in Haringey, North London. Noticing that a corner of an allotment plot was going to waste near his house, Matt applied to his local council to take it over. After cutting down a couple of sycamore trees, clearing the ground and getting rid of rubbish that had been dumped there, Matt and a few volunteers have planted fruit trees – apple and plum to name but two – and have recently created a wildlife pond, at present tenanted by tadpoles and pond skaters. The first dragon fly had also been seen.. There is a grotto made of living willow and a circular study area. There is space in the middle of this for a bonfire. The council has recently donated lavender bushes to plant around it. These will attract butterflies and bees.

Tamesis Seedgroup volunteered to help Matt with this and in the process learn something about the often tortuous process of getting funding and help from a council. We had an enlivening afternoon wresting thistles, couch grass and dandelions out of the ground. Matt’s children helped us even if, in the baby’s case this help consisted only of very serious attention to holding a piece of wood. I promoted myself to honorary child status to get an ice cream (cue sit down on a log). When we left the study area looked much more cared for and it was a pleasure to play a small part in something so special. While we were working a wren flew out of the flowering bramble hedge: a bird that once put cunning to good use as perhaps Matt has done in this venture.

The Community Orchard is currently up for a Green Pennant Environmental Award.

Druidry is about loving the land and service to all beings. Matt has put this into practice and, with some help, nursed a tiny piece of Haringey back to health. May the gods and goddesses of the land protect this garden and bless him and his family.

(‘Editor’s’ note: the pictures are thumbnails. Click on them to see a larger version.)