the raven

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.)

Five of us (Hilde, her friend Imogen, Greg, Becky and myself) arrived together at Box Hill to meet with the others (Donna, Heather and Andrew). Our Beltane ceremony was to be held deep in the woods wither we were conducted by Andrew, our celebrant for the day, aka Lord of the Forest. We had to carry a lot – a fire bowl, firewood, garlands, not forgetting my new cloak, getting its first outing with the Tamesis Seedgroup. A mule would have been useful.

The weather was perfect: sun that was warm but not too hot and very little wind. There were flowers all along the paths, wild strawberries, woodruff and yellow archangel (like a yellow white dead nettle) and we passed old yew trees and a horse chestnut with only one candle so deeply enmeshed was it by other trees.

Andrew led us to a place he had chosen close to a fallen beech tree, with a holly bush growing nearby, and slender beech trees making the perfect grove. The ceremony began and the circle was cast. Becky took the part of May Queen welcoming the advent of summer as the Lord of the Greenwood threw off his cloak and we were all given a sprig of hawthorn before the central fire was lit. One by one we cast into the fire what we wanted to leave behind and, or, what we wanted to come to fruition in our lives. And then, for a long time, we talked about the paths we were taking through life, feeding the fire and draining mead to the dregs. We sang as well and shared Druidic thoughts in prose and poetry. The young beech tree leaves above us were luminous with new life and I wished the charmed moment would never end. Miraculously, despite the lovely weather and the proximity of two paths we saw no-one while we were there.

But the apparent world must reassert itself. We cannot live in faery for long, nor should we try to. Such moments come unasked for and must be let go of as lightly. As he uncast the circle Andrew said “The circle is open but never broken.” Something to remember in miserable moments.

Then back to Andrew’s house for tea and cake and Cornish pasties made by Greg’s mum (blessings be upon her name) where some of us remained until the moon was high in the sky.

Thank you Andrew for creating the space in which each of us could work whatever magic we desired for the good of all living beings. And to those who weren’t there: we missed you.

The Spring Equinox Ceremony was wet and cold which had the virtue of keeping curious members of the public at bay.

But the birds sang fit to burst in the budding trees and as the Mabon bought spring flowers into the circle, and the Lady offered us seeds to symbolise our hopes, and what we wished to plant in our lives for the year ahead, I think we all forgot the discomfort. One by one we went into the centre of our circle to plant seeds which we took away with us afterwards. Mine have come up and are sturdy little seedlings, though they still have a long way to go to become scarlet poppies.

There were several newcomers to the group, all of whom seemed to enjoy the rite. Hot tea and wine brewed from young oak leaves together with a variety of cakes helped to ground us and we shared poems and music in an impromptu eisteddford. Two artistic group members promised future works of art. Briefly, we stepped out of this world and into the other reality of love for all living beings, forcibly reminded that this sometimes exists alongside mud and discomfort and all the less palatable aspects of the world. This, for me , is the great strength of druidry.

The final offering at the Eisteddford sticks in my mind: “Caged birds sing of freedom; wild birds fly.”

Thank you to all who were there, for all your gifts.

We had a wonderful party planned for this day. We were all going to get together in Nick’ allotment and just socialise together. Sadly, when we planned this, we had last year’s April weather in mind. It was warm and sunny then, as opposed to cold and wet with hail showers. I was getting really nervous about this event, so I was kind of glad that it was cancelled in the end. I was ready to just give up on the whole thing.

Thankfully, Cilla had a better idea. She suggested we should get together anyway, somewhere in town not too far from places to hide from the rain. So we decided on walking a short distance along the Thames – our patron deity – and then find somewhere to sit and chat.

When I left home, this still sounded like a great idea. And even when Alex and I arrived at Vauxhall, the sun was shining brightly. We met up with Daniel, Lorraine and Cilla, and as we set out we found Greg outside the station, waiting for us. And at that point it started to rain lightly.

We made our way to the Thames, where Time Team once discovered the remains of a wooden jetty from the Bronze Age. Offerings to the River were found there, in the form of spearheads driven into the river bank. We also watched a yellow amphibian vessel from London Duck Tours come out of the water. It looked like a lot of fun and we decided that we quite fancied doing something like that with the group.

When we continued on our way, the rain got a lot heavier. And then it hailed. Umbrellas and waterproofs came out. We watched the hail stones hit the river as we walked more quickly.

We soon had enough of this and went straight for the welcoming warm and dry of the Royal Festival Hall foyer. We draped wet coats and scarves over some chairs and collapsed with cups of tea and cakes. They have very nice honey and nut tarts at the Royal Festival Hall foyer. We can heartily recommend them. At this point, of course, it stopped raining. The sun even came out for a while.

We staid and just chatted for hours. Liz joined us for a while after her work finished. And in the end we got exactly what I wanted from this event: an opportunity to just be together socially, without trying to do anything particularly spiritual. And, as usual, just being with people from the seedgroup lifted my mood and gave me a warm feeling that soon dried my soggy soul.

Thank you guys. It’s great to be among friends.

On 10th February several of us went down to Chiswick to explore the eyot there (an eyot is an island sometimes washed over at high tide). It was a magical day when we were able to make deeper connection with the river that gives our group its name. A day of sun and soft air and a strong sense of the other worlds and entities that surround us; of ourselves as eternal spiritual beings. A day of willow and mud; of seabirds and the power of the tide mingling salt and fresh water. Here is the invocation we performed at the water’s edge:

Lady of the glittering water
Lady of the sculpted, shining mud banks
Lady of the tidal reaches

On whose breast the seagulls rest
In whose lymph the salmon swim
Through whose skies the heron flies

Whose open arms yield up the sun each day

Tolerate our human footfall
Grant us safe passage
Show us your will

In the name of all that is fair and free we ask these things.

Awen