Further Down The Path (Week 34)

For the week of November 24th to November 30th

I think this is week 34. I tried to go back and count the weeks since I started working on my Dedicant’s Path, but math of any kind confuses me. …I think it’s been 34 weeks. And if not, it’s as good a number as any.

Nature Awareness

I have always been aware of nature. I can spot a caterpillar on a leaf in the top canopy and quickly find the hidden acorn beneath the dead oak leaves… I know my trees, my plants, my fungi. Or did. That knowledge was amassed over 29 forest-filled years, where I lazily absorbed facts and bits of lore as I strolled through the woods with friends and family. The age of technology made it easy whip out my smartphone and Google for an ID when my memory failed me.

But this was in Canada. And now I’m in Australia.

I’ve gone back into student mode. I no longer go on trail walks, teaching and talking of the plants. I no longer know the native mythology or have anecdotes about a particularly wonderful spot for collecting low bush blackberries. I walk this land as a stranger. The talismans of Australia, the gumtrees and eucalyptus, the kangaroo and the koala, the blinding sunlight that comes from the north and the cool winds that come from the south.. this is all I know. They are the first to greet you when you arrive, and like any patriotic talisman, stay with you always. But everything else is shy, scared even, of new arrivals. You see, history has taught the flora and fauna of this isolated island continent to be afraid. Ignorant and single-minded colonists brought plants and animals alike that were (and still are) harmful to this land, causing the death of irreplaceable indigenous life. Me? I did no such thing, but still wild Australia hides from me.

I spend time every day sitting quietly, as open as I can, just letting everything flow in, around, and through. I touch the earth gently and let the woods smell my skin. I present myself demurely so not to offend, much like one would approach an unfamiliar animal. In return for this respect, I have been blessed and even visited. A giant red kangaroo stood not 10 feet from me and held his pose so I could study him, his musculature and impressive stature. A wild fox ran before me, the first I’ve ever seen, and the exhilaration left me tingling for hours after the encounter. And on a clear, cold night, with a light frost settling over these Highland hills, I saw the cosmic cloud that is the Milky Way.

Red Kangaroo - November 2013, Eira Silversage.

Red Kangaroo – November 2013, Eira Silversage.

Introducing myself to Australia is taking time. I feel the Sidhe are keeping their distance, where as in Canada they were always so close. There are even times that I even feel sinister energies, like in a sudden, strong gust of wind or in the tension before a storm, their messages painfully clear: you are not of this land. And although I am physically here, maybe it’s the lingering spiritual pain that I’m feeling that’s keeping me from connecting. Maybe this land knows it’s not my first choice and is resentful.

And it was this thought I was pondering around the time I met the fox. The fox, who I have always loved but never met, despite living in the land from which I come. It reminded me of why I first fell in love with foxes, back when I was 3 of 4, when my father read me The Little Prince. And like so many other times in my life, the wisdom of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry put my problems into perspective.

“Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world….”

Summer Solstice Preparation

The Summer Solstice is in 21 days, just in time for my in-law’s to be celebrating Christmas. This is such a strange concept to me that for the first time in recent years I don’t feel like I will be sacrificing any of my celebrations. The Summer Solstice has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas, and unlike Yule and Christmas which can often get muddled, I can attend familial celebrations without feeling conflicted. But how to celebrate the Summer Solstice in this new land?

Trance Work & Meditation

Since being here I haven’t been able to reach a truly deep meditative state. I’m able to work with the Two Powers meditation, but it doesn’t progress beyond a guided energy building exercise. I think this has a lot to do with the environment I’m in. I’m staying with my in-laws, and despite the beautiful country surroundings, I’m never fully alone outside, and therefore I can never fully relax. Inside, I’ve become so accustomed to certain ritual elements to facilitate a trance state (incense, silence, certain temperature) which I cannot currently replicate. Because of this, I’ve been using the meditative skills I’ve developed along with certain breathing to help control my stress levels. When we’re in our own home, I will resume trance work.

ADF Studies 

I finished reading Margot Adler’s Drawing Down The Moon as part of my DP coursework and wrote the review. Go here to read the review. Next book on my list is The Mabinogi. I am very familiar with these stories and legends, but have always listened to Bardic tellings and read poetic interpretations for pure enjoyment; I’ve never read this compilation cover to cover with the aim of academic interpretation. I’m very much looking forward to this. Honestly, I was saving it for after Drawing Down The Moon, as a sort of incentive 😉

I’m also working on my virtues, especially Hospitality. I’ve been thinking on this quite a lot lately, as it’s been a virtue I’ve been lacking in some areas. Reflection is definitely needed.

Finally, in my spare time, I’ve taken up knitting. I’m practicing the techniques I’ve learned (mostly self-taught) and am making a series of prayer shawls for ritual use. I’m finding that having a hobby that uses my hands and not my mind a lot more beneficial than I originally thought. I sit quietly, in almost a meditative state, and just channel my energy into ritual items. Sometimes I listen to DruidCast (the OBOD podcast) and sometimes I sit with music on gently. The work allows my mind to wander, and I’m finding myself inspired and creatively charged by the activity. I was surprised that this turned into a Druidic-centric activity, when really I started out just wanting something to do to unwind. But even as I wrote that last sentence I knew it to be untrue; I’m sure the majority of Pagan’s will agree that it’s a lifestyle and not just a religion. There’s magic in everything, even in a lonely girl’s scarf knitting on a cold spring evening.


I’m Still Here

I spent the Spring Equinox in my new home, the upside down and slightly backwards land of Australia. Funnily enough, the transition was easier than I expected. I was worried I wouldn’t bond with this strange place; that the spirits and I would speak a different language, that the reversal of seasons would leave me feeling off kilter, that the totemic Cedar and Raven, Pine and Bear, wouldn’t exist in this land, and I would be left drifting in a spiritual purgatory. And for a while I was. And still am. But it’s not a constant, and for that I am so deeply grateful that I often find myself casting toward the sun like a greedy flower, in prayer and appreciation.

I’ve already celebrated Beltane in the northern hemisphere this year. At that time, I re-familiarized myself with the lore and wrote my essay. I preformed the rite, ADF style. I learned a lot. It’s six months later and I feel I should be quieting down in preparation for winter. Samhain just passed, or would have passed, were I physically where I am spiritually lingering. Yet, despite what my soul is saying, it’s clearly spring. And it feels a little strange… the notion of re-celebrating Beltane. Back in September, when the Spring Equinox arrived down under, I sat amongst the plants and ponds in this home’s cottage garden with sticks of lemongrass and sandalwood incense burning (a combination that I alone seem to love), and I welcomed back the sun. The moment was perfect, like I was introducing myself to a new perspective.

And isn’t that really what it’s all about? A new perspective? The earth turns and the seasons change and the Wheel of the Year moves ever on, and all the familiar elements of ones home become incorporated into ones practices and overtime get labelled as tradition. From the first time a family brought in evergreen boughs and called it a Yule tree, or apples were left out on Samhain to feed the travelling souls, these acts gathered speed and eventually were adopted by others. The paganism that I know is of the northern hemisphere. The trees, plants, animals, smells, sounds, stones, clouds, winds, rains, etc… have all become elemental and irreplaceable in terms of worship. Does my soul stir when I gaze at a hill covered in gumtrees and eucapyltus? Yes, a little… but nothing like the snow capped, mist veiled mountains of my home. But my home was my paganism, and not the home of the Celts, who are the authors of my tradition. How much of what I believe is based on genetic memory, personal preference, inability to adapt, or a rose-tinted image in my mind that really has more of a feeling of religion than actual practice?

I don’t think the Celts would have known what to do on the west coast of British Columbia any more than I know what to do in the highlands of Victoria. But they would have learned, and added new traditions, and adapted ones that were no longer applicable.

I am of a nomadic heritage; a people walked to new lands and who brought with them what was sacred. This is what I’m clinging to. I say it to myself as a mantra as I walk the new trails of these alien forests and find myself missing the mist-drenched moss, fern, and cedar. I tell myself I’m forging a new path, one that includes the knowledge of many lands. There is room for gumtree and eucalyptus on my altar as well as oak and willow. This continent is covered in what the Aboriginals call Songlines, and while I don’t pretend to understand their version of paganism, I do understand feeling Spirit and sacred life in every single rock, tree, animal, and blade of grass. I am honoured to be here, walking this new path, in a land so sacred.

So, while I’ve been working through these heavy ideas, I haven’t been performing rituals. I’ve gazed at the full moon and, on a darkmoon night, caught my first glimpse of the Milky Way. I carved pumpkins with my sister-in-law for Hallowe’en, and on the same day, threw a handful of sage leaves and apple blossoms into a fire as a Beltane offering. That was all I did, but it felt like it was enough. Cerridwen and Cernunnos can still hear me, Boudicca tells me to walk tall and strong, and Nehalennia sees me safely on my travels. I am blessed and connected to the Source and feel the Spirits of this land slowly emerging from their secret homes to introduce themselves to me.

I am still here, on this path. Ready for more.

Further Down The Path (Weeks 11 – 14)

For the weeks of June 17th to July 15th

Nature Awareness

I’ve been thinking a lot about death lately.

Dead leaves and cobwebs cause the forest to vibe with Samhain and not Lughnasadh.

Dead leaves and cobwebs cause the forest to vibe with Samhain and not Lughnasadh. (Photo taken with my iPhone).

The green of spring is fading to golden yellow, and all too soon, everything will be brown. The leaves are still vibrant in the trees but the Earth is cracking like baked clay. These familiar paths where grass once grew are now barren, the stalks turned to hay now disintegrating underfoot. I still walk these paths, noting the changes, photographing the same trees as the Wheel of the Year turns. I try not to miss too many days between visits; one blink and everything has changed.

The salmon berries are done and now the forest is dotted with the deep red of thimble berries and inky dark blackberries. As I walk the trails I gorge myself on these forest gifts. But, remembering the birds and beasts of the land (as well as the plant’s need to spread it’s seeds), I leave some behind, both on the bushes as well as in easy-to-reach places for the squirrels and mice. Forest treats are best when shared, after all.

I’ve also found some naturalized St. John’s Wort bushes and a gully filled with broad leaf plantain which I plan to harvest this upcoming weekend. I will infuse the St. John’s Wort in oil to make a salve and use the plantain leaves for Lughnasadh talismans.

We haven’t had rain in weeks. This may not be a tragedy for many corners of this beautiful planet, but living in a temperate rainforest, no rain has an effect very quickly. But Mother Earth smells amazing these days, warm and comforting, like summer smelled as a child. And even as I write this, the wind has picked up carrying a summer storm. The air is electric and my skin is tingling with anticipation. Maybe Taranis has heard my call.

Dandelion gone to seed, another reminder that summer brings death.

Dandelion gone to seed, another reminder that summer brings death. (Photo taken with my iPhone).

High Day Preparation

August 1st is fast approaching, and with it the High Day of Lughnasadh, the first of the three Harvest Festivals. Many Pagan’s have a favourite holiday, but I often find that being so attuned with the seasons leaves me favouring the one I’m currently preparing for, and ultimately celebrating. The world is perfectly attuning for this High Day, with ripe fruit, bright flowers, golden grass, and warm summer evenings. I am also attuning for Lughnasadh, my skin turning darker from hours beneath the sun and freckles emerging across my nose and shoulders. I have always marked this day with a feast of summer produce, but I am looking into the traditions of my Hearth Culture to see if there other ways to honor the harvest.

Trance Work & Meditation

I haven’t been keeping a regular routine, but find that I am meditating most days and am drawing strength and insight from it. I’ve found that with the fleeting nature of my ability to concentrate, letting the mood strike me works better than forcing myself to sit quietly and still the mind when I’m captivated by some artistic whim. I’m having a lot of success with using a background mediation track and being outside. In fact, unless I use meditation to purposefully ease myself into a deep sleep, I always go outside to meditate. Beneath a tree is always preferable, but mostly I sit on my balcony, on my special meditation mat, with the gentle summer breezes swirling around me and the smell of my garden, which never fails to help transport me to wherever I wish to go.

ADF Studies

This is not the right time of year for me to be indoors writing of virtues and reading of the seasons. I keep a notebook with me at all times and write reflections down as I have them, but will not commit any of my insights to ADF essay form until the fall. Like nature, the summer is for experiencing and growing, and winter is for reflecting. I’m sure I’ve said that before, and I know I will say that again. It’s a point, that for me, is worth repeating. I used to feel guilty at how unreliable I am in the summer, and embarrassed at how predictable I am in the winter, but c’est la vie. This is why I bought a cell phone, after all.

Sunset through the trees. (Photo taken with my iPhone).

Sunset through the trees. (Photo taken with my iPhone).


Things That Burn – Summer Solstice Ritual

It’s 1:30am, and besides a 2 hour nap this afternoon, I haven’t slept in over 24 hours. The Solstice does this to me; it calls to me on some primal level. From 4am to 10:30pm the sky is light, and for those hours it wants me to dance.

On this day (more than others) I long to be free of civilization; to shed my clothes and surrender my insecurities to Mother Earth; to emerge from the sea and let my hair mat with ocean water and sea weed; to dance a rhythm with my bare feet along hidden forest game trails. I want dirty soles, scraped knees, berry-stained fingers, and sun burnt cheeks. The summer all but turns me feral.

How I Really Celebrated

I stayed up all night to watch the sun rise. It was damp, misty, and so cold that I had to wrap myself in a wool blanket.

4:30am on June 21st/2013. Only 11C. The sun didn't come out until dusk.

4:30am on June 21st/2013. Only 10C. Somewhere over that treeline is where the sun should have been rising, but He stayed hidden all day. In fact, He didn’t come out until an hour before dusk.

Despite the weather, it was lovely. I made a cup of tea and curled up on my meditation mat. I closed my eyes and felt the cool wisps of cloud swirl around me, through me, over me, behind me. The words of a dear friend came to mind: The Sidhe! the Sidhe are rising! I don’t think anything truer could have been said about this morning in the mists. The Sidhe were everywhere.

My plan was to follow the sunrise with a dawn ritual, but the energy wasn’t right. I waited most of the day, for the clouds to part, for the moment to strike… but it didn’t. Finally around dinnertime the sun started to peek His head out far to the west, so I decided to go say hello. We picked up a picnic from Whole Foods and went to the beach, about 20 minutes from our home. Looking back, the clouds were nearly black above our end of the shoreline. But to the west, ahead, I caught a glimpse of summer.

Sunset over the Pacific Ocean. The lone Totem Pole with upturned hands seemed such a fitting focal point; at once both welcoming and waiting to receive a blessing from the sun.

Sunset over the Pacific Ocean. The lone Totem Pole with upturned hands seemed such a fitting focal point; at once both welcoming and waiting to receive a blessing from the sun.

I, too, went to meet the sun.

Goddess Pose. Mountain Pose. Strength, surety, and open. Photo taken by my husband.

Goddess Pose. Mountain Pose. Strength, surety, and openness. Photo taken by my husband.

After dinner, we chased the sunset. We followed the coastline until darkness swallowed us up from behind. Only then did we return home and I prepared my ritual.

The Ritual

I modified the ritual I used for Beltane, which was structured following ADF’s Core Order of Ritual (COoR) and composed of text from the COoR, the Solitary Druid Fellowship, poetry by Percy Shelley, and some of my own writing.

Each ritual I select a song that seems to capture the mood and set it to repeat. My song selection isn’t always an obvious choice, but for today I went with Banquet Hall by Loreena McKennitt.

I then proceeded with the Two Powers meditation.

I purified myself and the Three Hallows using oak leaves dipped in Well water followed by a smudging of white sage and cedar boughs.

Oak Leaves on my Shrine.

Oak Leaves on my Shrine.

I honored the Earth Mother with lines of poetry I’d written for her followed by an offering of corn meal and honey. The honey I used comes from Australia, and more specifically from the valley I will be moving to next spring. I felt it appropriate to honor my new home in such a way.

My statement of purpose:
I have come to honor the Summer Solstice. The Sun has quicken Earth to fullness; her fields abundant and trees laden. I have come to celebrate this bounty and mark the passage from the light half of the year to the dark. I am here to give thanks to the Gods, Spirits, and Ancestors.

When Reciting the Cosmos and Establishing the Sacred Center, I sprinkled lemon balm (as a sun herb) into the Well and offered sage leaves to the Fire. I decorated my Sacred Tree with oak leaves and holly leaves as well as a sunflower to represent the Sun.

I used Cernunnos as my Gate Keeper again, as I feel it is a role he is very comfortable in and I couldn’t imagine a ritual without him. I offered him olive oil and sage leaves, which I placed in the fire. I placed my Triple Moon silver ring into the well.

I Honored the Three Kindreds with white wine, as I was unable to find any mead this time around. The wine was local, golden in hue, and delicious. I think they liked it.

While nontraditional, my Beings of Occasion were the Oak King, the Holly King, and the Sidhe. This is why:

“Might Gods, Kings of Oak and Holly
Guardians of the Seasons and the turning of the Wheel
I honor you this day.
Oak King, I give you thanks for your strength
You’ve shepherded this land and seen it grow strong
Rest now, Old Oak. Your job is done.
Holly King, I welcome your return!
And praise your fortitude and your endurance.
Help us transition into darkness
And give us abundance during the harvest.
Beloved Kings, thank you for your guardianship.”

After speaking, I placed an oak leaf and a holly leave into my cauldron.

I choose to honor the Sidhe at the last minute after my experience that morning in the mist. I felt called by them to really see their levity and their joy. And pissing off the Faeries is something I have no interest in doing 😉 I offered them words of poetry I’d written for them and a sunflower from by garden.

Adorning my Sacred Tree with a sunflower from y garden to represent the sun in the middle of the night.

Adorning my Sacred Tree with a sunflower from y garden to represent the sun in the middle of the night.

I drew one of my Ogham staves from it’s pouch. I drew Tinne, Holly. I was almost floored at this as I really felt that the Holly King was trying to make something known to me. Despite my love and attraction to the plant, I’ve never drawn Tinne in a reading before. I’ve also never had my omen be so clearly connected to my ritual, or to the Beings of Occasion. Tienne tells me that challenges are ahead. It warns me that this challenge may better me, but if I hold true to my wisdom and my strength, I will emerge stronger. It also points to adaptability as a means of dealing with this challenge. I’ll have to meditate on this more when I’m not so tired, as I fear at 2:30am all that I can see is darkness.

I asked for a blessing of abundance, as financially and emotionally I’m beginning to feel very strained. Then I drank some wine. A lot of wine.

Hail Gods, Spirits, and Ancestors! Drink deep and be merry!

Hail Gods, Spirits, and Ancestors! Drink deep and be merry!

I gave my thanks, closed the gates, thanked the Earth Mother, and closed the rite.


I found the midnight nature of this ritual to be incredibly rewarding. There were no external distractions; no traffic noise, no loud neighbours, only a noisy cat looking for a mate. I felt grounded, centered, and easily slid into the mindset needed to preform this ritual. I will admit to feeling thrown by the omen I received. I’ve had a rough few years and was beginning to feel like I was coming to terms with my baggage and beginning to move forward. I’m not sure what’s in store for me, but clearly my battle isn’t finished.

I hope this finds you relaxed and sated after a wonderful Summer Solstice,
Eira Silversage.

Summer Solstice – High Day Essay

The Summer Solstice (also known as Midsummer and Litha) falls around the 21st of June, on the longest day of the year. Summer Solstice resides opposite Yule on the Neopagan calendar, The Wheel of the Year. The earth is well-nourished; spring rains and warm sunshine from April and May have aided fertility, while animals and people alike have enjoyed longer, more productive days. On this day, in the northern hemisphere, the sun is in the sky the longest. This also means that Sun Gods (regardless of the pantheon they belong to) are at their strongest. This is a feast to celebrate the light, the sacred fire, the bounty of summer and the coming harvest.

I’ve read various accounts (both in ADF material as well as elsewhere) claiming the Celts (my hearth culture) may not have honored the Summer Solstice with such religious significance as they did other High Days. While these vague references may hold some merit, lacking an ancient cultural connection hasn’t limited more recent generations from celebrating this High Day. In many locations around the UK, pagans and country folk alike celebrate the Solstice with bonfires, fire wheels, and outdoor festivals. In fact, Stonehenge boasts one of the largest (if not the largest) public Solstice celebrations, which has been marked since time immemorial at the site of these ancient standing stones.

Sunrise on the Summer Solstice at Stonehenge. Image from: http://www.visit-stonehenge.org/.

Sunrise on the Summer Solstice at Stonehenge. Image from: http://www.visit-stonehenge.org/.

Both Summer and Winter Solstices mark an in between time, a time where the veil between worlds is thin. Such times and places are sacred to Druids, allowing those to explore the other realms more deeply and feel the presence of the Gods, Kindreds, and Spirits more tangibly. The Welsh pantheon knows this time as Alban Hefin, “spirit night.” On this night, the Goddess crowns the God the King of the Summer, and the Fae dance the hills in celebration. This legend, of masquerading fairies lead by a king and queen at Midsummer, has been retold in many forms, from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream to references in stories such as The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer-Bradley, and has become an iconic connection between pop culture and ancient (as well as modern) Paganism.

Fairies on Parade by Emily Balivet.

Fairies on Parade by Emily Balivet.

It is also believed, by some Neopagans, that the God being crowned is the Holly King, who has just defeated the Oak King in battle. The days now getting shorter, the Holly King will reign over the dark days until Yule (Winter Solstice), when the Kings of the forest battle once again, at which time the Oak King prevails. Regardless of the myth or story used to add poetry to the day, the Summer Solstice is a time to mark the end of the light half of the year, and begin to preparation for the dark. Feasts are held to enjoy summer’s bounty. Thanks are given to Spirits and Deities alike, showing appreciation for the growing season and asking for blessings for the upcoming harvest.

Further Down The Path (Week 7)

For the week of May 20th to 26th

I read a lot this week, wrote a lot, painted a lot; I spent time in nature and reflected on the seasons. I worked and I gardened. It was all very lovely, but it didn’t go beyond the regular scope of daily life. So, instead of a topical recap, I’m going right for the finale; for what I really want to talk about is spiritual growth.


Meditation & Trance Work

I feel as though I’ve broken through a barrier with my meditation. I am able to hold focus with little effort and for longer periods of time. I am beginning to really feel a shift in my consciousness.


Camille Flammarion.  An illustration depicting the known universe and the shared human desire to see further; to get closer to (the) God(s)/Goddess(es.)

Camille Flammarion.
An illustration depicting the known universe and the shared human desire to see further; to get closer to (the) God(s)/Goddess(es.)


It happens almost suddenly, much in the way lucid dreaming has been unintentionally triggered for me before. Despite having my eyes closed, I feel like my vision loses focus allowing me to see deeper into the darkness in front of me. There is movement there, a slow turning that I can manipulate until it becomes a window into the cosmos. The inky blackness moves and I, in turn, rush in, while still being totally aware of my body and my breathing. I summon roots, directing them to break through my thighs and sprout from my tail bone, reaching downward toward the soil. These roots are strong, chewing through man-made construction and the bedrock below. I can feel the sudden coolness resonating from the earthly waters, which appear to me as a deep, dark lake amid a giant underground cavern. Yet there is light, glowing faintly from some unknown source (maybe bioluminescence?) There is also sound in this cavern; a muffled rushing as countless underground streams and rivers empty into the lake.

I send down my roots, which descend through the empty space between the rock and the water. The moment of impact is almost tangible; the water is ice cold, like early spring glacial runoff that hasn’t yet been warmed by the sun. The water feels intelligent and old, very old. The tips of my roots are raw and beaten from eating through so much debris, yet the moment they enter the water they are instantly soothed.

As I rest my roots in the Well of the Earth, I straighten my spin and gently flex my neck so my face turns towards the daylight. I feel the celestial light wash over, swirl around me in the wind, or through me if the sun or moon meets my countenance. I rest a moment, present in body and open to the experience, as I reconnect with my roots and focus on my breath. Then I search for my star.

Despite the narration of The Two Powers meditation, I never feel or see my star directly above my head. I find her (for some reason she feels innately feminine) in a direct line from my third eye chakra, deep within the galaxy. She is deceptively small, as the distance makes her but a speck in the sky; easily overlooked as the brighter astral bodies swirl around her. But we see each other and for a moment that connection is stark, like finding a familiar face on the other side of a crowded room. I approach her with respect and admiration, letting her swell towards me in response to my call. Her light begins to grow, steady and warm, until a slightly unfocused golden beam falls from the sky. As the beam hits me, I shiver. My feet and thighs are cold from the contact with the earthly waters as my face and shoulders start to flush in the warm beam. I hold both sensations, both powers, tethered to me.

This is when I call the waters. I imagine my roots become permeable and instead of the waters moving around them, healing the surface, they now take the waters in. Up the water travels, back through the bedrock until it winds around the sewers, pipes, and foundations of the city. I let some of the water trickle out from tiny offshoots, sharing this power with the sleeping seeds and life, both plant and animal, that may need it. Finally, the water reaches my base, but instead of pooling it starts running through my veins, mixing and diluting my blood. The tips of my fingers tingle and my skin reacts to the sudden coolness and, despite the warmth from my star, I shiver.

I feel the water most in my heart, as it pumps effortlessly, moving the water through my body, healing and strengthening. I open my mouth slightly and let the light pour in, illuminating my lips and my chest, until it reaches my heart. I see it, this reaction, like champagne bubbles or a sprinkling of salt in vinegar – it effervesces in me and quickens. And greedily, I hold onto this feeling as long as I possibly can.

But slowly it fades. My roots are the first to retract, withdrawing from the primal source of water, like retractable talons they stiffly recoil back within. I flex my toes and my lower back. Next I breathe deep once more before letting my breath return to normal and I begin to release the light of my star. Each time I feel it’s vital that I learn her name, her purpose, her representation – like she is the astral body of a Goddess or an Ancestor, yet nothing so far has been made clear to me. I offer her my gratitude and feel her final light as blessing as she turns away. Yet, on some level, I need to know her name.

Sometimes I just sit and let myself slowly return, like waking up from a deep sleep. Other times my eyes open immediately, like I’ve been kicked in the stomach and instinctively gasp for breath.

Seven weeks to make progress, but like all new things, there is that moment of understanding. I feel that I’ve had that moment, where I’m no longer uncomfortably fidgeting and fighting the impulse to check the time or tuck a lose strand of hair behind my ear. I feel calm, settled, like I’m on my way to understanding the trail of crumbs leading me to wisdom.

This week has been extraordinary.


Nature Is My Temple

In which the Witch digests her words

Some weeks I don’t feel much like writing. It’s a cyclic thing, really – going from experience to reflection to introspection. The past two weeks I’ve been feeling fairly non-communicative, being in the introspective arch in my pattern. So I read a few novels and watched some crappy movies. For years I felt like I was wasting time and often chided myself, thinking this time could be spent learning or experiencing or progressing. I know now that that’s total bullshit. Downtime is essential. What does a snake do after eating a large meal? It rests while digesting. During the winter nature looks inward and prepares for the spring. After absorbing a lot of new information and experiences whilst expending a lot of energy, is it so unnatural to shut down a bit while ones mind and body fully digests?

But the wheel always turns…

I emerged from my mid-spring hibernation late last week feeling revived and balanced. I usually spend weeks like this in the woods or by the sea, painting, writing, exploring, etc… Regardless of the activity, I feel an intense craving for natural surroundings during these times, cravings so intense they’ve woken me in the middle of the night, panic-stricken and disoriented. The only cure is to shed my socks and shoes and bury my toes in the soil or sand. I leave my coat or sweater in the car and expose as much skin as legally allowed so I can feel the wind move acrossaroundoverthrough my body and stir within me something deep and primal. I soak up the sun and let the rain mat my hair.

This is my ritual, my prayer, my temple. I leave offerings to the spirits of the land and little presents for the birds and animals. I pick up trash while talking to the trees. I believe the Gods and Goddesses are everywhere, all the time, and so if my workings are done outdoors in nature, so shall they be my ritual.

She who charts the seasons

I also use this time to chart the seasons. Observing which plants are in flower, which flowers are going to seed, and which seeds are being scattered is so deeply meditative. I sketch and paint in my nature journal in an attempt to intimately understand all forms of life. I’ll leave you with a few of my favourite observations of this past weekend…

The salmon berry bushes are ripening, many with a mixture of hard green berries and fully ripe orange and red berries. I picked a few for a snack but left most for the gray squirrels who were collecting them.

The salmon berry bushes are ripening, many with a mixture of hard green berries and fully ripe orange and red berries. I picked a few for a snack but left most for the gray squirrels who were collecting them. (Photo taken with my iPhone with no editing.)

The thimble berry bushes are fully in bloom, their petals resembling the delicate wild rose bushes also in the area. Thimble berries are my absolute favourite of the local berries, but they usually don't ripen until July.

The thimble berry bushes are fully in bloom, their petals resembling the delicate wild rose bushes also in the area. Thimble berries are my absolute favourite of the local berries, but they usually don’t ripen until July. (Taken with my iPhone.)

The Laburnum, or yellow chain tree, are in full bloom. You can hear the drone of the bees 10 feet away. (Taken with my iPhone.)

The Laburnum, or yellow chain tree, are in full bloom. You can hear the drone of the bees 10 feet away. (Taken with my iPhone…too windy for a very clear shot.)

My favourite log on one of my favourite local beaches. The shore is lines with rowan trees, beech trees, and maple, which make for a truly unique atmosphere. There were Canadian geese with their goslings swimming out in the bay, but I didn't have my good camera with me to get a photo.

My favourite log on one of my favourite local beaches. The shore is lined with rowan trees, beech trees, and maple, which makes for a truly unique atmosphere. There were Canadian geese with their goslings swimming out in the bay, but I didn’t have my good camera with me to get a photo. (Taken with my iPhone.)

Saturday had the most brilliant rain storm, with wind and a bit of thunder. I happened to find myself at my favourite duckpond next to the beach, where two Swans were taking their cygnets out for a swim.

Saturday had the most brilliant rain storm, with wind and a bit of thunder. I happened to find myself at my favourite duckpond next to the beach, where two Swans were taking their cygnets out for a swim.

The Parks Board had roped off a section of the beach to protect this molting elephant seal. She looked absolutely miserable in the rain and wind, but I was so pleased at how respectful people with dogs were being of her condition.

The Parks Board had roped off a section of the beach to protect this molting elephant seal. She looked absolutely miserable in the rain and wind, but I was so pleased at how respectful people with dogs were being of her condition.

There were also eagles, a great blue heron, red winged black birds, crows, a raven, gulls, pigeons, and all sorts of small birds hanging around the duckpond. The island in the middle where the ducks nest is obscured by bushes, but I think I heard the faint peeps of baby mallards and mergansers coming from the brush. Next week I will definitely return to see how they fare.

Sometimes, all one needs is a weekend in nature.

Further Down The Path (Week 4)

For the week of April 29th to May 5th.

Spiritual Hangover

I believe I’m suffering from a spiritual hangover. Let me explain.

The lead up to Beltane was indescribably satisfying. I traveled the city and surrounding natural nooks to find branches from specific trees, to gather water from specific locations, to observe and record the changing season. I stood on the beach and watched the sun set. I stood in the rain beneath the pines and breathed deep the cool mountain air.

Beltane was remarkable; sunny and warm with a cool breeze off the ocean. If you want to read about my ritual, follow this link; there is too much to say to sum it up here.

But this was all early in the week, and the days following Beltane were challenging. I felt like I was in ritual withdrawal. My energy was drained and my mind kept returning to the experiences of Beltane. I spent a lot of time outdoors painting and no time reading or meditating. Maybe this is what it will be life for me. Maybe I’ll need this comedown time after a ritual to assimilate the experience into my life before I can continue in my practices. There is something rather beautiful about that. I like this feeling of being charged and changed by ritual.

Beyond Beltane

I’ve decided the next book I’m going to read for my DP is Drawing Down The Moon by Margot Adler. I started reading this book when I was a teenager, but it was a little too in depth for my undeveloped mind and I put it aside. I was planning on working on my first Virtue essay, but I’ve decided to wait until later in my DP year for those as I want to spend more practical time working with the Virtues so I can write from personal experience.

May Your Fires Burn Bright – Beltane Ritual

This was my first ADF ritual, and maybe more importantly, my first High Day celebration with a Druidic twist. I didn’t find myself nervous like I did when I was building up to my first Wiccan High Day, which let me relax and focus more on the experience and less on the formalities. Part of the DP training requires the student to write a short essay on their experiences at each of the High Days, and while this post will definitely be that, I also want to include some thoughts on the lead up to Beltane. 

The Triple Hallows

In my Hearth Culture, the Cosmos are thought of as Three Realms: Sky, Land, and Sea. The Sky is where the Shining Ones dwell and is represented by the Fire Hallow. The Land is where we dwell and is represented by the Sacred Tree. The Sea is the Underworld where the dead journey to reach the afterlife, and is represented by the Well. Together the Triple Hallows form the Sacred Center, which is opened during ritual to connect us with those beyond the veil.

So,when preparing for Beltane, I created my Triple Hallows.

On Making Holy Water

The Well is essential to Druidic ritual. During the ritual the Well is filled with Holy Water and is used to anoint those in attendance as well as the shrine, much in the way Holy Water is used in other religions. There are many different methods, thoughts, practices, etc… that people go by to create Holy Water, which really is just water blessed by or sacred to the user.

I gave this process a lot of thought, as I didn’t want to just fill up my Well with tap water. I chose to honor the Three Realms dually by filling my Well with waters collected from three different sources.

For Land, I chose a mountain spring. This water runs from deep within the roots of the Coastal Mountains and is as clean and pure as water can get.

Mountain Spring, Lynn Valley Headwaters. Taken with my iPhone.

Mountain Spring, Lynn Valley Headwaters. Taken with my iPhone.

For the Sea I went up a ways up the inlet to where the water is unpolluted by urban industry. The sun was setting on Beltane Eve and the experience was nothing short of moving. I kicked off my shoes and stood in the cool waters of high tide and felt the glow of dusk settle around the harbor.

Sunset at Cates Park. Photo taken on my iPhone.

Sunset at Cates Park. Photo taken on my iPhone.

For the Sky, I wanted to collect rain water. The irony wasn’t lost on me that the moment I decided to do this, the clouds parted and the sun came out. So, I gathered the next best thing: fresh glacial run-off and snow melt from high in the mountains. Unfortunately, I left my phone in the car and was unable to take a picture.

The Ritual

My shrine. I've been collecting more branches for my Sacred Tree, which now has Rowan, Oak, Apple, Willow, and Maple. While Maple is not one of the sacred Druidic trees, it is sacred to Canada and felt my own homeland spirits should be honored.

My shrine. I’ve been collecting more branches for my Sacred Tree, which now has Rowan, Oak, Apple, Willow, and Maple. While Maple is not one of the sacred Druidic trees, it is sacred to Canada and felt my own homeland spirits should be honored.

I started the ritual with ringing my little brass bell 9 times and working through the Two Powers meditation. Next came Purification and I opted to use my favourite stanza from my favourite poem by Percy Shelley. I have always felt that it has a strong tie to Paganism, despite that not being the author’s intent:

I am the daughter

Of Earth and Water

And nurseling of the Sky

I pass through the pores

Of the Ocean and the Shores

I change, but I cannot die

I honored the Earth Mother with an offering of honey and corn meal.

Offerings to the Earth Mother.

Offerings to the Earth Mother.

During the Earth Mother offering I was overcome by an emotion I don’t fully understand. Tears started running down my cheeks and despite my warm apartment, I started to shiver. It wasn’t a negative feeling in the slightest, but I wouldn’t describe it as overwhelmingly positive either. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully understand it, but I plan on meditating on the emotion to see if I can learn anything new.

I honored Cernunnos as the Gatekeeper, and offered him sage leaves and olive oil, which I burned in the cast iron firepot which serves as my Fire Hallow. I’ve never honored Him as anyone other than the God of a ceremony, but I think we were both happy with Him in this role. I always felt Cernunnos was introverted and observant, so I think He enjoyed being included but not in the spotlight.

I made sacrifices to the Ancestors, Spirits, and Gods and Goddesses in the form of fresh rosemary from my garden, which I burned in my firepot, and hot tea sweetened with honey. The tea was a blend of hibiscus petals, rose hips, orange peel, blackberry leaves, and ginger root. I think the combination of the vibrant fuchsia colour and intense summer flavours was a perfect offering for Beltane. 

My Beings of Occasion were Blodeuwedd and the Sidhe. I wrote them each a short poem and read them during the ritual. I gave them both some of my Beltane tea as well as lavender flowers for Blodeuwedd and a dogwood flower for the Sidhe.

Quert, or Apple, Ogham Stave. This stave comes from my set that is made from each corresponding wood type by a Coven in England.

Quert, or Apple, Ogham Stave. This stave comes from my set that is made from each corresponding wood type by a Coven in England.

After the offerings and blessing requests, I spread my handmade casting cloth and drew one Ogham stave. I drew Quert – the Apple Tree, which speaks of Choice and Mental Healing. Mentally, I have been healing from past traumas which have had a significant impact on my life. I feel that for the first time since childhood I’ve been free to make decisions that aren’t centered around my mental state. I’m taking this as an omen that the Goddesses and Gods are standing with me, encouraging me, and above all telling me that I’m (finally) on the right path. This Ogham also talks about mental discipline and focusing ones energies. Could this be about my recent move to ADF and Druidry? Could this be them agreeing that this is the right place for me? Finally, Quert can be a sign to make a choice. This may be the first time in my life that I don’t feel I’m at a crossroads, so I’m not entirely sure what choice it’s speaking of. Maybe the choice correspondence isn’t relevant to me, and I drew this stave because of the mental healing and academic discipline meanings. Time will tell, I’d imagine. Regardless, I believe this was an wonderful sign that my offerings were accepted and blessings were bestowed.

After the omen, I gave my thanks and closed the gates.


Throughout the entire ritual, I felt centered and empowered. I opted to move my shrine indoors, which I initially thought would take away from my connection to the Earth, but it wasn’t too much of a hindrance. (I have a nosy neighbour who likes to look around the privacy divider between our balconies whenever she hears me outside.) I loved the flow of the ritual, the pacing, and the atmosphere. The burning herbs mixed with the oak shavings and cedar incense, the sweet herbal tea and the water from my three sources… it was indeed magickal. I will admit that in the past I never really felted moved at rituals, I felt like I was going through the steps, more so focused on fancy words written by others than on the actual spirituality. This was different; I truly felt connected. 

I hope this post finds you spiritually sated and in the after-glow of your own Beltane experiences,
Eira Silversage.

Beltane – High Day Essay

Beltane is the 2nd cross-quarter day of the Neopagan calendar, known as the Wheel of the Year or individually as High Days. While some cultures celebrate Beltane Eve based on the lunar calendar, the vast majority of Pagan’s celebrate Beltane on April 30th-May 1st. At its heart, Beltane is a fire fertility festival which marks the beginning of the summer months, it’s opposite being Samhain (October 31st –November 1st.)

Beltane Grove by Mickie Mueller

Beltane Grove by Mickie Mueller

The lore talks of a thawed earth, fertile and abundant with new life. The Gods and Goddesses mirror this fertility in their own story with the Great Marriage and the impregnation of the Goddess, who carries the new God until his birth at Yule. So when we speak of Beltane being a fertility festival, we speak not only of sex, but of the land which grows our food and the maturing of livestock, and the conception of intellectual ideas and an overall abundance. The time between Beltane and Midsummer is the time to grow, to nurture new ideas and see them carefully cared for and blessed. We ask the Shining Ones to join us in these acts, as their guidance and blessings can help seal our success.

Beltane Reunion by Emily Balivet

Beltane Reunion by Emily Balivet

There are many cultural influences in modern Beltane rituals stemming from different ancient Pagan cultures. The name Beltane comes from the Celts, so named after the God Bel (Belenus). Germanic cultures celebrate May 1st as Walpurgis Night, while the Roman’s honored the Festival of Flora. Despite many different cultures customs, the heart of the High Day remains the same. Today, we celebrate with burning bale fires, which can be jumped over or walked around to bring luck. Maypoles are erected and danced around, baskets and garlands of flowers are given and worn, hand fasting ceremonies are held, and seasonal foods and drink are shared amongst Pagan communities. Some also choose to honor Beltane by mirroring the union between the God and Goddess (but only consenting adults, please!)

The Council of Cernunnos - Beltane Rites by Emily Balivet

The Council of Cernunnos – Beltane Rites by Emily Balivet

Beltane is a celebration of life and the beauty of Mother Earth. We share in Her abundance and give freely of our own. We ask for the protection and inspiration of the Gods and Goddesses to help guide us through the impending months of hard work, and pray that we are rewarded with bountiful crops and the fruition of our ideas.

May Your Fires Burn Bright,
Beltane Blessings!