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Solitary Thoughts

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Summerlands1

What to do about our Solitary Members?

When I first joined ADF in 1984, I was solitary for the better part of my first twenty years. I relied heavily, in the pre-internet days, on Druid’s Progress (the magazine) and News from the Mother Grove (the newsletter). In the rare instances that I would run into folks from ADF, I would try to glean as much information from them as I could: who, what, where, etc.

Once the internet became a major force, it was easier to find out things because of chat rooms or email lists. It was the next step in the process of getting information but one thing did not change: I was alone.

When I moved to Michigan, I hooked up with Shining Lakes Grove of which I am still a member. It was really a change of life for me. There are some solitary members who are solitary because they want to be, but, the great majority of solitary practitioners are solitary out of circumstance. Roughly 55% of the ADF population is solitary and I feel there is a need to find a way to make solitaries feel that they are part of the greater family of Druids. How does one do that?

I have often written to members when they joined to welcome them to ADF and let them know that we do not take their membership for granted. I am not sure that this practice was overly effective, but it was an attempt. Yet, that takes care of one day in the ADF life of a member and that is just not enough. So the question remains: what is to be done.

I have a couple of ideas.

I travel a great deal for ADF, mostly to see various groups or collections of people and I am often fortunate to see whatever solitary folks  are able to make it to festivals, gatherings, or Pagan Pride days along the way. I have an idea to do a little bit more. I would like to propose that once a month, myself and someone else from leadership or clergy venture to a different state and try to find a central location where solitary folks might be able to gather and  get to talk to some folks from a representative group from ADF. This might be something like a meet and greet followed by a ritual. Why a ritual some may ask? One of our ADF brands is our Core Order of Ritual which defines whether a ritual is an ADF ritual or not. It is one thing to read about it, it is another to see a ritual on You Tube, but it is entirely different to see it in person and to be a part of that experience. I guess this would be an ADF Road Show in a way. An activity like this would be fairly effective in smaller states, like Delaware and Rhode Island and probably a lot more challenging in larger states like Florida, Texas, New York, and California to name a few. I am sure the methodology would have to be developed and refined, but it would be a good way to meet the people who have either been members for a short amount of time or a long period of time and have rarely seen anyone from the organization.

I have also spoken to some folks in the gaming industry that have some definite ideas about creating an online experience that might be interactive, vital, and allow folks to share time and experiences together. This will take some time to develop and to recruit talent to help with the process, but the internet is the one place that we can come together and meet with relative ease. We have found success with chats, Google Hangouts, and other meet-up methodologies, especially when they are targeted to certain interest groups.

I would also like to invite and engage our clergy to get involved with offering ritual services online, so that if folks want to ask questions about ritual practice or actually try out some ritual practices with someone else, folks will be available to look, listen, and learn. Clergy is just a starting point – we have many Senior Druids or Grove Organizers who are talented with ritual and ritual construction. I would like to see online locales set up as test beds where people can try things out and get some gentle and guiding feedback from the folks mentioned above.

Finally, I would like to see our regional leadership, like Regional Druids and their deputies to contribute their experiences as well. Our regional folks are out there meeting people all the time and they may have found approaches that are vital as well.

There is nothing  like the immediacy of being with and interacting with people in person. I am hoping that by trying these ideas and also reaching out with monthly gatherings that we can not only let solitary practitioners know that they are not alone, but also help them feel more connected to the whole.

 

 

 

Two Oceans

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I have been blessed.

In October, I was fortunate enough to visit the Southern Ocean, that vast expanse of water between Australia and Antarctica. I had wanted to visit that ocean ever since I heard of Adelaide and South Australia. While it was a dream of mine to see, that dream became a reality with my attendance at the Mount Franklin (Beltaine) Festival in October. The Mount Franklin Festival, nestled in an extinct volcano, was an opportunity to spend five days in the bosom of the Earth Mother. My journey to the Southern Ocean was an opportunity to experience the power and majesty of the Southern Ocean, as personified by Lir, the God of the Surrounding Sea.

Southern Ocean

As I stood by the ocean, I was amazed by the great sound and the powerful wind that came from that endless body of water. I carved a number of names and blessings in ogham on the beach, looking for the incoming tide to come and carry my blessings away, to activate them. The wind blew my hair back, thundered in my ears, and was an insistent and constant voice which shouted, sang, and defined that liminal world between water and shore. I walked up to what I considered a “safe zone” on the shore, where I was convinced I would not get my shoes wet. This “safe zone” was invaded immediately by an ocean with intent and with purpose. The ocean, the vast ocean, the ever-encircling ocean, is king here and it presence, both visually and audibly, was elemental and stunning. At one point, I took my shoes and socks off and stood in the waters, so that I could participate in the experience, directly, of that great ocean. It was cold; it was loud; it was forceful, all at once. My feet in the sand, the water touching my legs, and the sound of the surf anchored me in that moment. The water rushed in; the water rushed out, and the moment, THAT particular moment, was gone.

In November, I came to California and the Pacific Ocean to visit with friends and to attend a work conference. Once again, I was able to visit the ocean, this time, the Pacific Ocean at Santa Cruz. This was a much different ocean experience. The Southern Ocean was just coastline and ocean and really nothing in the way. The Pacific Ocean, on the other hand, was a shoreline, but a beach with piers and somewhat inland. The waves kept rolling in, but it seemed much more serene, much more pacified. Perhaps, that is why it is called the Pacific. I took off my shoes and socks and went once again into the water. I closed my eyes and listened. It was that same feel; it was that same sound; it was that same vibration. Gone was the thundering surf, because at this place, it was more serene. Gone was the wind blowing through my hair like a gale. Gone was the wind the blows from the bottom of the world.

Yet, believe it or not, this is the same interconnected body of water that I stepped in a world away, a continent away. This is the body of Lir and, while the lore may not support it, I am a firm believer in the all encircling ocean, be it Lir or be it Oceanos or be it Varuna. The Grand Ocean is really a different kind of being. The Earth Mother is beneath our feet on whatever continent we may stand. The Great Ocean, on the other hand, is always that interconnected body of water that surrounds each of the continents. Heraclitus stated “Panta rhei”, or all is in flux, which is often interpreted as “you never step into the same river twice”. Yet, when we walk into the ocean, it IS the same ocean, anywhere and everywhere. While the contents or flow of the waters may change from moment to moment, we step into the fundamentally same body of water, that living corpus of water that is Lir.

When we pollute the ocean, we pollute ALL of the ocean, because it is all one. When we allow plastics and trash to form huge proto-islands in the middle of the Pacific, we pollute ALL of the ocean, because it is all one. When we dump toxic waste into the ocean or when we overfish the ocean, we pollute or damage ALL of the ocean. Without the waters, we cannot survive, so while the Great Ocean, or Lir, may take a lot to seriously damage, it can be done. It is being done. There is a lot of water on this planet, nurturing the Earth Mother and nurturing ourselves. Yet, there is a limited amount of water and we know of the power of the ocean. If we take a telescope to Mars and see where a Great Ocean used to be, we know the damage that may be inflicted on a system as large as a planet by the evapouration of the ocean.

 

By stepping into that grand stream, into that living God, I became aware of one great truth and that is something I will never forget. Two oceans, three oceans, four oceans, more, regardless of the case, it is one living, expanding, extending, entity that I call Lir. He is old, he is all-surrounding, and he is still as vital as ever. Let us make sure to do our part to protect him by giving thanks, praise, and offerings, and by removing all the impurities that we can, whenever we can.

 

Please Plant This Dream

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Please Plant This Dream

Richard Brautigan, one of my favourite authors from the 60s, once wrote the passage in his book “Please Plant This Book”:

“The only hope we have is our

“children and the seeds we give them

“and the gardens we plan together”

(http://pleaseplantthisbook.com – Lettuce packet)

Let me begin by saying that I am not a parent. I was never blessed with children and I celebrate each and every one of you who is thus blessed. Lately, as though the Gods wanted me to see another lotus petal unfolding, I have been around more and more younger children. I am amazed, of course, at what I see in their faces. I was at a park when a young man of about 7 months was first introduced to a tree. It was really amazing to watch him run his hands of the bark of the tree and to sense this vibrant, living creature interacting with another vibrant living creature. What I saw was a distinct sense of wonder.

Feeling a tree or feeling the earth or a plant or grass is a distinctly different sensation than feeling a plastic toy or a sewn doll or anything manufactured. If we expose our children to nature and the Earth Mother, they will feel comfortable with nature and the Earth Mother. Recently, I was with a toddler when he was sitting in a pool and he did something very natural for a young child: he slapped his hands into the water. In doing so, the water splashed up and totally soaked his face. I held my breath in anticipation of his sudden wetness and, to my sudden and ultimate surprise; he giggled and kept right on splashing. He celebrated the water and his getting wet. He marveled at the feel of the tree. He was mesmerized by the feel of the blades of grass. He sat and listened to the sound of the wind invigorating the leaves in the trees.

Nature is an active playground and the Earth Mother welcomes everyone to her verdant fields, hills, and forests; she welcomes everyone to the shores of waterways, brimming with sound; she welcomes everyone to watch out the ever-changing story that is told in the skies. Perhaps if children, or better yet, if people, are raised around nature, they will not feel so separated from nature. I, as a child of a gathering of years, still marvel and wonder at the clouds, stars, and other celestial wonders that flow by my window or over my head.

I have a friend who has a young daughter who prays with her for morning devotionals. Let me clarify this – she doesn’t accompany her mother for prayers, she participates with her mother in prayers. At two years old, how is this possible? Someone once told me that children learn by example. This is a situation where, on a daily basis, the mother gets up to honour Ushas, Vedic Goddess of the Dawn, and her daughter would accompany her. After a while, her daughter would pray with her and, should the mother tarry in getting to the altar, her daughter would reminder her by stating “Momma, pray?” Recently, this has expanded to “Momma, Ushas? Pray Ushas?”

I am awestruck by the power of these words. The recognition of prayer by a child is a powerful thing. The recognition of the deity to whom the prayer is focused is already another. Often I hear neo-pagans commenting on ways in which to introduce their children. Do they send them to Bible school to get that “other” religion and then let the child, saturated with years of alternate ethos, choose if a different system serves them better? Do they let the child find its own way, applying little or no moral training and hoping for the best, lest they become orphans of the storm? Do they try to teach them the myths of a culture that once served as a background to a people who had neither Internet nor iPhone and employ images that may not apply at that well in the current day?

An old friend of mine, Cecil, once said “kids may not listen to you, but they sure watch what you do.” In this spirit, perhaps the best thing to do is to include one’s children in one’s devotional practice. Let them SEE what you do; let them HEAR what you do, let them FEEL what they feel and see if it resonates with them. If you are a person of good moral character, which I assume is true, then your children will watch your approach to things and will subscribe to that same moral code, by osmosis that you do. Tell them, from time to time, why you are doing what you are doing.

While there is value in telling the old stories, perhaps there is better worth is showing our children our own practice, built upon the works of the past, tempered by time and practice, and made new and shiny and vital in our 2015 way.

“The only hope we have is our

“children and the seeds we give them

“and the gardens we plan together”

The seeds that we give them are our practice and our gardens are the works we do together. Plant a seed in the garden of the Earth Mother, add love and water, and she will return a bounty. And what a bounty that will come to be.

#adruidsprogress

 

Yes, the River Knows

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There is a stream very close to where I live. On the map, it is known as Silver Creek. To me, it is known as Ara. I did a long series of workings to get to know my stream and the name I discovered was Ara. Ara, like the constellation, the Altar. In some ways, I treat my stream as an altar, but as a unique and constantly moving altar that is not stagnant and that varies in flow, intensity, and intent. Oh the stories it could tell to the trees!

From a purely physical standpoint, it is a stream, a flowing body of water that stretches a number of miles and is part of the Huron River watershed. It is a small, quiet stream near where I live. I have watched it over the months from low stream in summer, to flowing stream in autumn, to frozen stream in winter, and so on. I have seen it grow way past its banks so that it extended past its boundaries, only to return to its embankments.

There is a tree near the bank and I can always get a gauge on the stream from that tree. Several times since spring, the tree, which normally sits contentedly near the bank, was totally encircled in water. This was typically after a series of strong storms or days of torrential rains. Most recently, because of the very hot and dry weather here, the stream was reduced to a very small flow.

I had noticed a while ago that there were no fish in my stream and I was a little surprised. I expected something to be living in my loving waters, but much as I looked, no fish could be found. I am surely not a biologist nor an environmentalist, but I figured that perhaps there was something in the stream that was not quite right. I felt that something had been introduced into the current which had tainted the waters to the point that fish, one of the local nature spirits, were not welcome or comfortable.

Over the last two weeks, a rather unsettling smell permeated the neighbourhood. I just couldn’t place it, but, it was always around. It was especially noticeable when the wind blew from the west, blowing from the area of the stream.

I went to visit my waters and I noticed that they were so very low, not quite a trickle, but a slow and not very healthy looking situation. The exposed stream bed had kind of a unhealthy look and I grew concerned. I thought of my stream daily when I did my invocations to the nature spirits, a part of my daily devotionals.

Over the last few days, the rains came once again; welcome to return now that August no longer held the rain clouds at bay. It rained and it rained hard and long. My tomatoes, parsley, and basil was ecstatic at the flow of true waters, purified waters from the sky, not the faucet. I noticed that that weird smell had dissipated as well and I decided to pay a visit to my stream.

The stream was moving, slowly, deliberately, but in a healthier manner than lately. Several families of ducks were swimming in the waters and they seemed almost joyous, at least to my biased eyes. I looked once again for fish, but didn’t see any, not yet at least, but the return of the flow, of the current, of good clean, purified waters from the skies seems to make all the difference.

This entire exercise reminded me of the other streams in my life and the ebbs and flows that I deal with on a daily basis. There is another stream, a stream of belief and practice, that flows through my life and perhaps through the life of those who practice as I do. The streams that are our altars and our practices sometimes get dusty or low in water. We can assuredly keep on top of the care and maintenance of our own altars, but what of the commonly shared altars and practices that we share with others?

Sometimes, we shake our heads that the flow of our collective practices, the flow of our collective streams, seems diverted, seems stunted, and seems to flow in an opposite direction. What can we do when we are faced with such deviations?

I think back to something Alan Watts said long ago about the Watercourse Way, and, of course, he was repeating things that he had heard and that had been passed along. The discussion of the Watercourse Way, the path of least resistance, is old, as old as storytelling perhaps. We can paddle upriver, against the flow, and we will assuredly not achieve the progress we desire. We can paddle quickly downriver to a new place, to a new river bank, but we may find that is it too different, or, conversely too similar to the place we once were. I think, upon reflection, that it is best to stick to the flow, to stick to the waters of our own stream for the time being and continue our practice, regardless of the height of the water, of the smell that emanates therefrom, and the flows, friendly or harmful, that may enter that stream. In time, the rains will come and purify the waters of our practice. If we open our arms, and minds, and hearts to the possibility of renewal of the stream, we may find our own family of ducks, swimming where they had not been seen before. The Gods work in mysterious ways and the ducks brought me their message today: the waters of renewal have come. I make an offering and I am thankful for the opportunity to wait, like the stream, to wait, like the river, to wait, like the ocean, for the waters to turn.

Yes, the river knows.