The Big Tent of Paganism

January 11, 2015 by John Beckett. Read his blog “Under the Ancient Oaks” and this post here

I like a “Big Tent” approach to Paganism.  Druids and Wiccans, Heathens and Hellenists, Thelemites and chaos magicians, shamans and seers, kitchen witches and tree huggers – there’s room for everyone.

What do all these people have in common, you ask?  Not a single thing.

But there’s still value in the Big Tent of Paganism.

photo courtesy of shutterstock

Imagine, if you will, a huge circus tent.  It’s supported by four large poles.  These are the four centers of Paganism:  Nature, the Gods, the Self, and Community.  To continue the circus metaphor, these aren’t rings you’re either inside or outside of, these are poles you’re closer to or farther away from.  Some Pagans are so close to one pole (center) they’re hugging them – they don’t care about the other three centers.  Others are close to two or three or even all four centers.

I’m primarily a Nature and Deity centered Pagan.  My love of hills and trees, the sun and the moon and the night sky, and my study of science brought me here.  My experience of the Gods gives me depth and meaning.  Read through this blog and you’ll see these are my primary concerns.

I have some interest in the Self – in refining my soul and improving my skills so as to be of greater service to the world.  I have some interest in Community – in building vibrant groups and resilient institutions to support our Great Work.  But while those are important, I don’t have the passion for them that I have for Nature and the Gods.

Now, imagine this tent has lots of people moving around in it.  Some are crowded tightly around one pole.  Others bounce from pole to pole to pole.  Eventually, though, most people find a spot they’re comfortable with, and they discover they’re not alone – there are others who have the same interests and passions.  Sometimes there’s already an organized tradition at that spot in the tent: say, Gardnerian Wicca or OBOD Druidry.  Sometimes there’s an informal gathering, like traditional witchcraft.  Other times there’s nothing and people decide to create a group, like the Coru Cathubodua priesthood of the Morrigan.  And some people insist on standing by themselves.

The flaps of this tent are up – there’s nothing to stop people from wandering in and out.  Some people find a gathering spot outside the tent.  Green Christians have a lot in common with Nature centered Pagans, but they aren’t inside our tent.  The Afro-Caribbean religions have varying degrees of Catholicism in them, but they’re generally considered to be in the tent.  What about Hinduism?  Some Hindus say they’re in, other Hindus insist they’re out.

There are no fences and there are no guards.  If you want to come in, you can come in.  If you want to go out, you can go out.  I prefer the biggest of Big Tents, but ultimately each group and each individual has to decide if they’re Pagan or not.

“If a word doesn’t have a clear meaning then it doesn’t mean anything at all!”  I hear this all the time and I strongly disagree – this argument is adolescent pedantry.  Paganism can’t be precisely defined because it doesn’t have boundaries – you aren’t in or out.  You’re closer to or farther from the four centers, and if you’re close enough to one or more of the centers to be inside the Big Tent, you’re a Pagan.

Our troubles with the term largely stem from the ideas that one tradition is normative of Paganism and that there are certain elements of belief and practice that are essential to Paganism.  Neither of these assumptions are correct.  Wiccan concepts and rituals are by far the most common, but all that means is that there are more people in the Wiccan area of the Big Tent.

When some polytheists insist “I’m not Pagan” what they’re usually saying is “my religion has nothing to do with the Wiccanish stuff all those folks are doing.”  That’s true, but as I see it they’re standing right beside the pole labeled “Gods” and that puts them clearly inside the Big Tent.

The reality is that the volume of Paganism is at a high, vague, Wiccanish / witchcraft level.  The depth is being developed at a very focused, very intense level. Interestingly, much of that is happening in witchcraft.  The fact that many people are practicing at a superficial level doesn’t stop others from practicing that same tradition very deeply.  It’s clear that as people settle into an area of the Big Tent, they soon find “Pagan” no longer completely describes what they do.

If a random person on the street asks me what I am, I may say I’m a Pagan.  If someone at Pagan Pride Day asks, I’ll say I’m a Druid.  If someone at a retreat asks, I’ll say I’m a polytheist Druid pledged to Cernunnos and Danu who worships many of the Celtic deities and occasionally others.

All of those labels are accurate and all are a helpful way to communicate, depending on the audience.

The Big Tent provides a visible, easy-to-find entry point for ordinary people who are looking for something their current religion isn’t providing.  And it makes it much easier for us to find others inside the tent who are doing the same things for the same reasons.

There may be nothing that is common to 100% of Pagans, but we have plenty of similar interests.  Almost all of us are concerned with promoting and protecting religious freedom and preventing the establishment of a majority religion.  Many of us are concerned with respecting Nature and caring for the environment, whether or not we believe the Earth is the body of a Goddess.  Many honor our ancestors, whether we pour libations to them or study their history or strive to live by their values.

overlapping circlesDraw circles around our groups and no one circle will include us all, but there’s lots and lots of overlap in our beliefs, practices, interests, and concerns – enough overlap to create and support things like Pagan Pride Day, Pantheacon, Patheos Pagan, The Wild Hunt, and Pagan music.  Individually, no one tradition is big enough to support these large endeavors.  Together we can.

We are not one.  There is no single Pagan religion and I have no desire to create one.  But the Big Tent of Paganism is a useful and beneficial approach to grow and support our many Pagan religions.



Why I’m An OBOD Druid

-By John Beckett

Over the past few weeks I’ve had multiple people ask me to tell them about OBOD: the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids. Most are considering joining the Order and just as I did before I signed up, they want to pick the brain of someone who’s been there and done that. I’ve answered the individual questions, but there are probably others… which means it’s time to blog about it.

Like many people, I came into Paganism through Wicca. I wanted to be a Witch and I tried to be a Wiccan but it just wasn’t a good fit for me. But when I first read about Druidry, something clicked. This wasn’t something that looked interesting and cool – this was who I am. I didn’t choose Druidry, Druidry chose me.

Unfortunately, there were no Druid groves anywhere near me. When I realized I needed a group, I went to check out Denton CUUPS, and that was a good fit. Before long I found myself in a leadership role… a role I didn’t feel qualified to fill.

I knew I needed some training and I wanted training in Druidry. After some investigation and reflection, I signed up for the Bardic course of the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids. I completed the Bardic course in 15 months, the Ovate course in 25 months, and the Druid course in 24 months. My certificate proclaiming me “a full member in the Druid grade” hangs on the same wall with my high school, college, and graduate diplomas.

That’s the “what” – it’s a story I’ve told many times. But the question of “why” remains – why do I still identify as an OBOD Druid when my current practice is focused on devotional polytheism?

OBOD Chosen Chief Philip Carr-Gomm

OBOD has an excellent distance learning program. There’s nothing quite like learning at the feet of an experienced, knowledgeable elder, and there are some traditions that teach no other way. The problem is finding an experienced, knowledgeable elder who isn’t already teaching more students than she can handle. Other traditions have distance learning and individual study programs and some of them are good – and in the end, no matter what kind of training program you follow, you have to do the work.

OBOD’s program is simply the best I’ve seen. Historian Ronald Hutton has said the OBOD course “arguably represents one of the major documents of British spirituality from the late twentieth century.” Practiced diligently, it can enable a motivated student to grow from knowing virtually nothing to becoming a competent Druid practitioner in a few years.

The downside of the OBOD program is the cost. The current price of the Bardic course is £215, which is $348 at today’s exchange rates. The other courses are similarly priced. Keep in mind this doesn’t just represent the cost of the lesson booklets – it’s how the Order supports itself. There are no other membership fees. It sounds like a lot, but how much do you spend on cable TV? When people balk at the cost, I have one recommendation: if the cost represents a hardship, don’t do it. If the cost represents a sacrifice, do.

OBOD provides a grounding in historical Druidry. What we know about the original Druids is inspirational, but there simply aren’t enough facts to build a practice around it. But history doesn’t jump from the Anglesey massacre in 61 CE to Ross Nichols and Isaac Bonewits in the second half of the 20th century. Druids never really left the collective imagination of the British Isles and while the 1717 date Nichols claimed for the founding of the order that would lead to OBOD is likely more mythical than historical, it is certain there were Druid orders operating in the 18th century.

These Revival Druids were not Pagans. But they laid the foundations for today’s mostly-Pagan Druidry, and they contributed non-orthodox ideas to the Christian culture – ideas that would influence the early modern Pagan movement. The Revival Druids are our spiritual ancestors. They deserve our respect and their ideas deserve our consideration.

OBOD provides a foundation and a framework for Pagan practice. Although OBOD is a non-creedal and non-doctrinal order, most of its material is presented in a Pagan context. It has roots in the Western Mystery Tradition: OBOD ritual casts circles, calls directions, and works with the four (or five) elements. It works with Gods and Goddesses, honors sacred sites, and emphasizes the sacredness of Nature. It celebrates the Wheel of the Year.

OBOD founder Ross Nichols was a friend and sometimes editor of Gerald Gardner, founder of Wicca. There is a story (that may or may not be true) that says Gardner originally wanted to celebrate the four solar holidays and Nichols wanted to celebrate the four Celtic fire festivals. They combined the two to create the modern Pagan calendar.

I found much that was familiar when I worked through the early Gwersi (lesson booklets), but I don’t think there was a single one where I didn’t learn something new. I wanted training to help lead a Pagan group and I found what I wanted.

House of Danu Gorsedd - 2009

OBOD provides connections and community. It is possible to move through the three grades and never interact with another Druid beyond your assigned mentors, who monitor progress and answer questions (of a factual nature – requests for interpretation are usually answered with “what do you think?”). Many OBOD members do exactly this.

But despite the lack of a local grove, I’ve made many personal connections at OBOD camps and through social media. More than a few of these connections have become deep friendships. I’ve also met Druids from other orders at OBOD events and through OBOD connections.

The training and education brought me into OBOD. The friendships I’ve made within the Order keep me active in OBOD.

Spiritual depth. It is possible to spend a lifetime studying the lessons of the three grades, practicing the meditations, performing the rituals, and participating in this-world activities they inspire. I know some OBOD Druids who do this, and if that works for you I recommend it. There is great depth in the teachings of the Order.

But while this approach would be very Nature-centered and Self-centered, it wouldn’t be very Deity-centered. This is why, ultimately, OBOD isn’t enough for me. Polytheism is an essential part of my religious and spiritual life and while OBOD is compatible with polytheism, it doesn’t emphasize it. My interactions with the Gods and my relationships with Them require a level of devotion OBOD doesn’t teach.

That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with OBOD – it just means OBOD, by itself, isn’t enough for me. But the spiritual techniques it taught me have been very helpful in exercising that devotion.

There are many fine Druid orders and I have friends in several. Honestly, I don’t know any Druid orders I’d recommend you avoid. If I had unlimited time I’d probably join one or two more just to see what I could learn from them. There is no “best” Druid order, just different orders that fit individuals very well or not so well. If you feel called to Druidry, do some on-line investigation, read a few books, talk to some people who have first-hand experience, and make the best choice for you.

This is why I’m an OBOD Druid.

Read more:

The Right to Farm and Farming Rights: Recent Deeply Concerning Developments in Michigan

The Druid's Garden

Friend's Local Farm in South East Michigan Friend’s Local Farm in South East Michigan

When I moved to Michigan, one of the things that really excited me was the strong protections that small family farmers had, the emphasis on local food and local culture, and the support at all levels of government for these practices. Unfortunately, a whole series of recent events have shifted Michigan from one of the most progressive states in the nation concerning the right to farm to something…else, a state moving in a direction that is certainly not good for local foods or organic farms.

The trend that seems to be happening, at least in Michigan, is that as the local foods/local farms movement gains ground, as funds are diverted away from industrialized food and into farmer’s markets, and as people work to engage in more sustainable practices in their communities, backlash starts occurring.  Backlash may be locally motivated (e.g. irate neighbors)…

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The Eightfold Wheel of the Year & the Druid Festivals

Basing itself on this deep and mysterious connection between the Source of our individual lives and the source of the life of the planet, Druidry recognises eight particular times during the yearly cycle which are significant and which are marked by eight special festivals.

Of these eight times, four are solar and four are lunar – creating thereby a balanced scheme of interlocking masculine and feminine observances. The solar observances are the ones that most people associate with modern-day Druids – particularly the Summer Solstice ceremonies at Stonehenge.

At the Solstices, the Sun is revered at the point of its apparent death at midwinter – and of its maximum power at the noon of the year when the days are longest. At the Equinoxes, day and night are balanced. At the Spring Equinox, the power of the sun is on the increase, and we celebrate the time of sowing and of preparation for the gifts of Summer. At the Autumnal Equinox, although day and night are of equal duration, the power of the sun is on the wane, and we give thanks for the gifts of the harvest and prepare for the darkness of Winter.

These four festivals are astronomical observances, and we can be sure our ancestors marked them with ritual because many of the stone circles are oriented to their points of sunrise or sunset. By the time the circles were built, our ancestors had become a pastoral people, and times of sowing and reaping were vital to them.

But as well as these four astronomical, solar festivals, there exist four times in the year which were and are also considered sacred. These were the times which were more associated with the livestock cycle, rather than the farming cycle.

At Samhuinn, between October 31st and November 2nd, livestock for whom there was insufficient fodder were slaughtered and their meat salted and stored. At Imbolc, on February 1st, the lambs were born. At Beltane, on May 1st, it was the time of mating and of the passing of the livestock through the two Beltane fires for purification. Lughnasadh, on August 1st, was the time which marked the link between the agricultural and the livestock cycle – the harvest began and both human food and animal fodder were reaped and stored.

The two sets of festivals represent far more than just times which our ancestors chose to honour the plant and animal life-cycles though. They demonstrate our thorough interconnectedness with both the animal and plant realms.

As we contemplate the festivals we see how interwoven is the life of our psyche and of our body, of the planet and of the sun and moon – for each festival time marks a potent conjunction of Time and Place in a way that is quite remarkable.

Let’s look at the cycle now. The dates given are for the Northern hemisphere, where they originated, but if you are in the Southern hemisphere, you need to reverse the dates: so you would celebrate the Winter Solstice in June, the Summer Solstice in December, and so on.

Looking at the complete cycle, we shall begin at Samhuinn – a time which marked traditionally the ending and the beginning of the Celtic Year.

Samhuinn, from October 31st to November 2nd, was a time of no-time. Celtic society, like all early societies, was highly structured and organised – everyone knew their place. But to allow that order to be psychologically comfortable, the Celts knew that there had to be a time when order and structure were abolished – when chaos could reign. And Samhuinn was such a time. Time was abolished for the three days of this festival, and people did crazy things – men dressed as women and women as men. Farmers’ gates were unhinged and left in ditches, peoples’ horses were moved to different fields, and children would knock on neighbours’ doors for food and treats in a way that we still find today, in a watered-down way, in the custom of trick-or-treating on Hallowe’en.

But behind this apparent lunacy, lay a deeper meaning. The Druids knew that these three days had a special quality about them. The veil between this world and the World of the Ancestors was drawn aside on these nights, and for those who were prepared, journeys could be made in safety to the ‘other side’. The Druid rites, therefore, were concerned with making contact with the spirits of the departed, who were seen as sources of guidance and inspiration rather than as sources of dread. The dark moon, the time when no moon can be seen in the sky, was the phase of the moon which ruled this time, because it represents a time in which our mortal sight needs to be obscured in order for us to see into the other worlds.

The dead are honoured and feasted, not as the dead, but as the living spirits of loved ones and of guardians who hold the root-wisdom of the tribe. With the coming of Christianity, this festival was turned into All Hallows [commonly referred to as Hallowe’en on October 31st], All Saints [November 1st] and All Souls [November 2nd]. Here we can see most clearly the way in which Christianity built on the pagan foundations it found rooted in these isles. Not only does the purpose of the festival match with the earlier one, but even the unusual length of the festival is the same.

Next in the cycle is the time of the Winter Solstice, called in the Druid Tradition Alban Arthan [the Light of Arthur]. This is the time of death and rebirth. The sun appears to be abandoning us completely as the longest night comes to us. Linking our own inner journey to the yearly cycle, the words of the Druid ceremony ask “Cast away, O wo/man whatever impedes the appearance of light.” In darkness we throw on to the ground the scraps of material we have been carrying that signify those things which have been holding us back, and one lamp is lit from a flint and raised up on the Druid’s crook in the East. The year is reborn and a new cycle begins, which will reach its peak at the time of the Midsummer Solstice, before returning again to the place of death-and-birth.

Although the Bible indicates that Jesus was born in the Spring, it is no accident that the early Church chose to move his official birthday to the time of the Midwinter Solstice – for it is indeed a time when the Light enters the darkness of the World, and we see again the building of Christianity on the foundations of earlier belief.

In a Christian culture we really only have one marker for the year, and that is Christmas. Easter and Harvest-time used to be significant, but can hardly be considered so now, when only a fraction of the British population attend Church regularly.

Druidry has eight markers, which means that every six weeks or so, we have the opportunity to step out of the humdrum of daily life, to honour the conjunction of Place and Time.

The next Festival occurs on February 2nd, or the eve of February 1st. It is called Imbolc in the Druid tradition, or sometimes Oimelc. Although we would think of Imbolc as being in the midst of Winter, it represents in fact the first of a trio of Spring celebrations, since it is the time of the first appearance of the snowdrop, and of the melting of the snows and the clearing of the debris of Winter. It is a time when we sense the first glimmer of Spring, and when the lambs are born. In the Druid tradition it is a gentle, beautiful festival in which the Mother Goddess is honoured with eight candles rising out of the water at the centre of the ceremonial circle.

The Goddess that ruled Samhuinn was the Cailleach, the Grey Hag, the Mountain Mother, the Dark Woman of Knowledge. But by Imbolc the Goddess has become Brighid, the Goddess of poets, healers and midwives.

And so we often use Imbolc as a time for an Eisteddfod dedicated to poetry and song praising the Goddess in her many forms. The Christian development of this festival is Candlemas – the time of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple. For years successive Popes had tried to stop parades of lit candles in the streets of Rome at this time, until seeing that it was impossible to put a stop to this pagan custom, they suggested that everyone enter the churches so that the priests could bless the candles.

Time moves on, and in a short while we come to the Spring Equinox – the time of equality of day and night, when the forces of the light are on the increase. At the centre of the trio of Spring Festas, Alban Eilir [the Light of the Earth] marks the more recognisable beginnings of Spring, when the flowers are beginning to appear and when the sowing begins in earnest.

As the point of psychological development in our lives it marks the time of late childhood to, say, 14 years – Imbolc marking the time of early childhood [say to 7yrs].

We are in the Spring of our lives – the seeds that are planted in our childhood time of Imbolc and Alban Eilir will flower from the Beltane time of adolescence onwards as capacities and powers that will help us to negotiate our lives with skill and accomplishment.

Beltane, on May 1st, marks the time of our adolescence and early wo/manhood. Spring is in full bloom, and twin fires would be lit at this time, through which would be passed the cattle after their long winter confinement, or over which those hoping for a child or good fortune would jump.

We see traces of the Beltane celebrations on May Day, when dancing round the maypole celebrates the fertility of the land and creates an echo of the ritual circle dances that must have been enacted in stone circles throughout the country.

We have reached the time of the Summer Solstice, Alban Hefin, The Light of the Shore, by June 21st or 22nd [the dates for each of the solar festivals vary each year since the events are astronomical not man-made, like our calendar]. Light is at its maximum, and this is the time of the longest day. It is at this time that the Druids hold their most complex ceremony. Starting at midnight on the eve of the Solstice, a vigil is held through the night – seated around the Solstice fire. The night is over in a matter of hours, and as light breaks, the Dawn Ceremony marks the time of the sun’s rising on this his most powerful day. At noon a further ceremony is held.

Six weeks later we come to the time of Lughnasadh on August 1st, which marks the beginning of harvest time. The hay would have been gathered in, and the time for reaping the wheat and barley was due. It was a time of gathering together, of contests and games and of marriages. The marriages contracted at this time could be annulled at the same time the following year – offering the couple a sensible ‘trial period’. In some areas a flaming wheel was sent rolling down the hillside at this time to symbolise the descent of the year towards Winter, and in the Druid ceremony a wheel is passed around the circle in symbol of the turning year. The Christian version of this festival is Lammas, which has recently been revived in some churches. The word Lammas comes from hlafmasse – ‘loaf-mass’ – since bread is offered from the newly harvested grain.

The Autumnal Equinox, on September 21st or thereabouts, is called Alban Elfed or Light of the Water in the Druid tradition. It represents the second of the harvest festivals – this time marking the end of harvest-time, just as Lughnasadh marked its beginning. Again day and night are equally balanced as they were at the time of the Spring Equinox, but soon the nights will grow longer than the days and Winter will be with us. In the ceremony we give thanks for the fruits of the earth and for the goodness of the Mother Goddess.

And so the circle completes itself as we come again to the time of Samhuinn – the time of death and of rebirth.

What does it mean to celebrate these festivals? Are we simply trying to revive customs that belong to a different era, and are well forgotten? Those who follow Druidry believe strongly that this is not the case. Just as Christmas and New Year are vital to our psychic health because they give us some measure of the passage of our lives, so -if we incorporate a celebration or recognition of these times – do we find that we develop an increasing sense of peace and place in our world and in our lives.

Let us look at the value of the festivals from a psychological point of view:

When we celebrate them we honour times which have been considered sacred for over four thousand years. The four fire festivals relate to key life periods and the experiences necessary for each one of them: Imbolc invokes the gentleness and mothering that we need in our first years on earth. We need the stillness of Imbolc, of the candles glittering on the water, of the Goddes Brighid who sings to us each night as we fall asleep. When we have become young adults, we need the initiation of Beltane – of Spring, when the force of our sexuality courses through our blood and when we need the guidance of the tribe and its mythos, not its denial or salaciousness.

As we become young adults at the Lughnasadh time of our lives and begin to build a family, the rules change – the wildness of youth gives way to the constraints that responsibility brings, and we need an understanding of this as part of the wider scheme of things – not merely a ‘knuckling down’ to duty with the seeds of rebellion in our hearts.

As we grow old, we approach the Gateway to the Other World. If we have followed such a path as Druidry, this becomes a time of preparation for the Great Adventure, a time in which we become familiar with our friends and guides in the Other Worlds who show us, time and again, that death is really a birth to another level – a wider horizon.

If we work with this scheme, we have a chance to invoke each of these phases of our life every year – as if each year were a microcosm of our complete lives. In the early Spring we open to the child who lives in each one of us – we honour and acknowledge and cherish him, and we allow the healing breath of the Goddess of Poetry to sing gently to him.

At Beltane, we open to the God & Goddess of Youth. However old we are, Spring makes us feel young again, and at Beltane we jump over the fires of vitality and youth and allow that vitality to enliven and heal us. When young we might use this time as an opportunity to connect to our sensuality in a positive creative way, and when older the mating that we seek might well be one of the feminine and masculine sides of our nature. Integration of the animus and anima or of the male and female aspects of the Self has long been seen as one of the prime goals of spiritual and psychotherapeutic work, and Beltane represents the time when we can open to this work fully – allowing the natural union of polarities that occurs in nature at this time the opportunity to help us in our work – a work that is essentially alchemical.

We move from conjunction to the fruits of that conjunction with the festival time of Lughnasadh – the harvest being that of either children or of creative works. This is a time of satisfaction in our accomplishments – whether that means gazing into the face of our child or feeling the warm satisfaction that comes when we achieve an objective in our field of endeavour. It is at the time of the festival of Lughnasadh that we can invoke the powers of accomplishment to nourish the need that we all have to achieve something in this world. If we feel that we have achieved something, we can use this time to open ourselves to the satisfaction this brings. So often we rush through life that we do not even pause to enjoy those things which we have around us – our family or home, for example. If we feel that we have not yet achieved anything, now is the time to open ourselves to our potential for achievement. Acting ‘as if’ is a powerful way to mould our future. If we spend time opening ourselves to the feeling of family or accomplishment, even though we do not apparently have these things, we help to invoke these realities for the future.

Finally, at the time of Samhuinn we can open ourselves to the reality of other worlds, to the reality of the existence of those of our friends who have ‘gone before us’ and who are still alive and well, though not on this earth. If each year we have in consciousness connected to this plane, when the time comes for our transfer, it will represent a more familiar, if still challenging territory that we will actively want to explore. Children brought up in this tradition will have a warm feeling towards this other realm, rather than being filled with fear for the Unknown, and with a fear that has been provoked by the pernicious images of hell developed by distorted forms of Christianity.

We have seen how the four fire festivals demonstrate a cycle related to the phases of our life on earth. The four solar festivals represent, at a psychological level, four key functions or processes: Inspiration, Reception, Expression, and Recollection.

The Winter Solstice, Alban Arthan, represents a time when we can open to the forces of Inspiration and Conception. All about us is darkness. Our only guide is Arthur, the Great Bear, the Pole Star (or the Southern Cross in the Southern hemisphere). In the stillness of night is Intuition born. Both the festival and the function is located in the North – realm of the night and mid-winter. The Winter Solstice is the time when the atom-seed of Light, represented both by the one light raised on high and by the white mistletoe berries distributed during the ceremony, comes down from the Inspired realms and is conceived or incarnated in the womb of the night and of the Earth Mother. It is thus a potent time to open ourselves to the fertilsing power of the Muse or of the Great Source, so that we may give birth to our creativity.

The Spring Equinox, Alban Eilir, located in the East, represents the time of Reception – Reception of Wisdom, as we face the dawn rays of the rising sun on the first morning of Spring. The East has always been associated with Wisdom and Enlightenment, because it is from the East that the sun rises. And it is on the Spring Equinox that it rises due East. At this time we can open ourselves to wisdom and the powers that can bring clarity to us.

The Summer Solstice, Alban Hefin, in the South, is the time of Expression – when we can open ourselves to realising our dreams and working in the arena of the outer world. The Summer always seems the time when there is the most energy for getting things done, and aware of this, we can cooperate with this energy. We often take holidays at this time, and while it is a good time for active holidays, the restful, tranquil break from the hurly burly of life is probable best taken in the Autumn, around the time of Alban Elfed, located in the West, when the energy moves towards one that fosters Recollection – the quiet in-gathering of the experience of Summer.

Working every six weeks or so with a psychological process or function or with a life-period is a deeply satisfying experience.

At the centre of our ceremonial circle is the place of Integration. Here all the qualities and dynamics find their resting place and place of creative union at the very heart of the circle – which is also at the very heart of our beings. In many of the ceremonies this reality is enacted ritually by the Druid moving sacred objects from the periphery of the circle to the centre – thus enacting the movement of integration on the physical level and grounding a spiritual and psychological principle in action with their body.

The centre of the circle represents God/dess and the Self; the Sun and our Soul; the Source of All Being. As such it is the place where all comes to rest and to fruition.

We can see now how the circle becomes, over the years as one practices Druidry, a magical place in which the circumference represents the round of our daily, yearly and whole-life journeys – inextricably tied to the daily and yearly cycle of the earth, and the eight compass directions with their associated meanings and spiritual and psychological associations. At the centre lies the still point of Being and No-Thing.

The entire space of the circle becomes our sphere of inner working – it becomes a sacred area in which, like a magic carpet, we can travel to other states of being. It becomes a doorway which, like the well-known gateway of the trilithon, can give us access to previously hidden realms and altered states of consciousness.

Adapted from Druid Mysteries by Philip Carr-Gomm

Fiftieth Anniversary of the Order talk

Philip Carr-Gomm's Weblog

Here is the text of a talk I gave at the fiftieth anniversary celebrations of our Order – first at the Dryade International Camp in the Netherlands, and then a short while later in the marquee in the Glastonbury Abbey Grounds

We are Reclaimers of Stories

A view of the eating area at the Dryade International camp 2014 A view of the eating area at the Dryade International camp 2014

One of the reasons we are drawn to Druidry is because we are aware of its love of story, which lies at the heart of the Bardic tradition. We know stories are important: they are healing and inspiring – they deepen our sense of who we are in the world.

Imagine the petals of a flower that overlap around its centre. And at this centre lies our personal story – who we are – our individual journey. But that story is embedded in or linked to another story – that of our…

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Authenticity and Authority in Druidry

by Caitlín Matthews

Talk given at OBOD 50th Anniversary – 7th June 2014

caitlin-matthewsYou would think that 50 years were long enough and yet, we still hear, ‘By what authority do you call yourself a Druid? Or ‘You’re not a real Druid! You’re just a neo Druid!’

In the face of a society that dismisses spirituality to this degree, it is hard not to harbour a sense of fraudulence. Is my Druidic avocation founded upon anything? Is mine an authentic path and so do I act with authority? A sense of fraudulence is something that many seekers are subliminally aware of when they approach a tradition that has had no living elders for centuries.  By what right are we here? Where are the druids of yesteryear?

When When a tradition loses its living practitioners, it doesn’t mean that the tradition dies. Like water that goes deep underground, it will find another place to come up. This has been my experience since I was 12. The mixture of land, ancestry and the inspiration that connects us to spiritual sources weaves its own golden thread which we follow as best we may. If we follow faithfully, it leads us onwards and we find the tradition to which we have already been connected without knowing. People seek druid initiation in different ways.

Some folks try for complete authenticity by druidic re-enactment, learning a Celtic language, dressing the part, living in the Iron Age. But, as Bob Truscott points out in the recent issues of Touchstone, these people still bring their own mindset with them.  It is not by copying the past that we continue the druidic tradition, although the past can inspire us.  Some join a druid order and commit its literature to memory: but druidry doesn’t lie in what is written.  Some folk perform rituals that mark initiations: but it isn’t in the ritual that initiation lies. Some seek a line of transmission: those who have been druids before, but  druidic authority doesn’t lie in having an ‘apostolic tradition.’

When we want to properly orient ourselves, we study the cardinal directions, north, south, east, west, and map our course from the clues that they give us.  Each of the directions feels different; each speaks about, teaches different things. When we stand in the place of our true abiding, we can be aware of the powers of the cardinal directions that are unseen but also just as real.  In a similar way, Druidic initiation involves us finding the internal compass points of druidry.

The 10th century Middle Irish Saltair na Rann or Psalter of Verses advizes that there are five things a wise person should know: ‘the day of the solar month, the age of the moon, the tides of the sea, the day of the week, the calendar of holy days.’  Although this was written down in the Christian era but we still catch the druidic necessity to understand time and our surroundings.

In the not so ancient days of my youth, analogue televisions came with what used to be called the horizontal and vertical hold  – buttons that controlled how the picture was delivered to our tiny screens. Loss of horizontal synchronization usually resulted in an unwatchable picture; loss of vertical synchronization would produce an image rolling up or down the screen.  We are living in times when a similar problem is afflicting people too: a lack of primary coordinates is making life unbearable, disabling understanding and connection.  Wherever we live in the world, in whatever circumstances, we can still find our horizontal and vertical hold.  They are essential for druids.

Our ‘horizontal hold’ is what makes us a native of the place where we live, regardless of whether we were born there or not; it entails knowing the orientation of the celestial bodies – the sun, moon, stars and planets – over that place, in every season; knowing the plants, rocks, animals and trees in our region; being aware of the spirits of that place, the unseen and manifest life both in, and out of time, in that location.

Our ‘vertical hold’ transects time and place, for it is made up of the ancestral and inspirational rivers that flow into our being.  The ancestral tributaries are those of blood, of genetic and epigenetic tendency that inform and shape the life of our bodies. Ancestors of blood and spirit become aware of us. The inspirational tributaries carry the influences that inform and shape our souls.

With our internal compass of the unseen and manifest directions, and with a well practised horizontal and vertical hold in place, we become established and seen, both in our communities, where we can be of service, as well as to the unseen witnesses who observe and support us – the spirits and ancestors who are part of a living spiritual continuum.

Initiation means simply ‘to go into it.’ Our druidic initiation is about going into and becoming part of that living continuum. Recognition by the spirits and by the community, who are the joint witnesses, has a very pragmatic manifestation. It is an unfortunate fact that those who didn’t go into that continuum yet, often set themselves up as druidic practitioners, but it is only those who’ve been initiated into the living continuum who are asked by their community to be of service, because people can tell when we have not.  It is only by becoming part of that living continuum that we have initiation: when we enter into it, then we have the authenticity that we seek.

Each contemplation of a living tradition of wisdom has its own light which is reflected through and beyond time. The light that was shed in ancient time is thrown from its place of concealment to become the visible means by which we walk our road.  It reveals to us the task that calls us home, which is the living druidry.  The stillness and attention that we give to druidry causes its interior light to shine into our perception: our own witnessing of the druid light causes it to be reflected and amplified. When we do that,  we too are witnessed as druidic successors.

Making a place at our hearths and community gatherings for our ancestors is the first step in continuing the traditions and wisdom with which every land is endowed. When this happens, when we honour ancestors and their wisdom at a national level and things will change for the wellbeing of All That Is and for our children’s children.  When we have done this, then we have authority indeed.

A tradition that gives life has no need to reinvent itself: it has a continuity of its own. We are part of that continuity.

When we acknowledge and live the internal compass points of our tradition by our authentic connection with ancestral wisdom and true service to our community, then we stand in the light of our forebears, becoming in our turn, ancestors of blood and spirit.

So when someone says, ‘So you call yourself a druid,’ you can, with authority, look them in the eye and say, ‘I don’t call myself a druid, I AM a druid.’

Seamus Heaney and Me

A Druid Way

Irish poet, Nobel Prize winner, essayist and translator Seamus Heaney died earlier today in Dublin at 74.  More than once I’ve quoted Heaney on this blog, not least because his work is accessible without being Hallmark-y, literate but not stuffy, and redolent of earth and earthy intelligence.  In other words, delightfully Druidical.  Rather than go all lit-critic here, I’ll give a tribute in the form of a modest personal anecdote. If I need any justification, we’re both farmers’ sons.

heaney2In January 1984 Heaney offered a 7:00 pm reading and book-signing as part of the long-running Brockport Writers Forum at the College of Brockport, a school that’s part of the State University of New York (SUNY) system.  I mention this because at the time I held an unhealthy disdain for the SUNY schools.  They weren’t Ivies, and though a farmer’s son, I cultivated a decided snobbery that looks simply ludicrous now.  I…

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