A modern creation myth

In the beginning there was just ice and fire, the realms of Niflheim and Musspelheim, with a big yawning gap in the middle.
When the two realms met there was the original big bang.  So that the gap now had elements that formed Ymir the original male energy and Auðumbla the primeval cow, known as the Milky Way & thus the galaxy and early stars.   The cow is the primeval female energy.
Auðumbla licked the Rime, the primeval stardust or frost (as in space it's very, very cold),freeing the primeval giant; our solar system.  Ymir fed from the cow's milk.
From Ymir came the giants & giantesses born from his armpits - the natural forces of physics embodied in the sun, moon and planets as well as the realms currently unknown to us (perhaps described in the string theory of quantum mechanics).  From rubbing his legs together the regular beat of time is created.
Buri/Ymir dies and his body forms our solar system's present cosmos. It all evolves from there under the influence of Growth (Woden/Odin/Othinn) Order (Hana/Hoenir/Vili) and Decay (Lodhur/Loki/Ve) or g-o-d in the monotheistic view of the world.
We then kick into the Celtic creation theory or the Oran Mór or the great song or great sea - Oran meaning great and Mor meaning sea or song.
http://www.druidcircle.org/library/index.php?title=Celtic_Creation

The gods and giants then met for the first Thing at the Well of Urðr at the foot of Yggdrasil, the World Tree.  Together they started to sing the greatest of choral works; the Oran Mór.  This is the song of the spark of life that creates the world we know and all the flora and fauna along with it.  First they hum harmonies of the small things, the bacterium, algae and lichen.  Underlying it is a wild, chaotic primal rhythm.  Then as Midgard settles the music shifts to melodies of the plants and the early creatures.  Gradually the melodies combine into a symphony of the first age, the age of dinosaurs. 

The Gods then argue with the Giants and create the first people from the forests where the river meets the woods.  The Norse people are cut from the Ash and the Elm.  The Celts are cut from the Oak and Apple, all the other peoples are made from their trees.  Time and the song flows into complex fugues and a much more human history - the dominant symphony at this moment in time.

Icing the Holly King

Snow has arrived to ruin dreams of a mild winter that builds bike strength, reminding me that my plans for a turbo training shed are unfulfilled.  My perennial Heart of Darkness paranoia strikes; "when I am not on the bike I know that I'm just getting weaker."  This is where the analogy dies, there is no Charlie in the jungle waiting for me.  Nor am I a dedicated racer or have a big event planned.
So why do I worry?  Two answers:
1 - because it's my nature to and core to my self view is that I am a cyclist.  As a cyclist I want to be a good cyclist.

2 - it's part of my balance against the unhealthy parts of my life to keep fit.

Aahhh yes the third part - I hate the pain of getting fit & love the fluidity of my masterful stroke when the fitness is there.
Ice depresses me, like some Viking trapped in his hall.  I then wallow in my dirty habits; smoking, drinking and fatty foods.  The guilt is exacerbated by the feeling that as my age lengthens so my overall fitness declines.  The cold freezes my ability to act, more so as I get older. 

What has this negativity got to do with Gewessi?
Acceptance of the natural cycles, is the thing.  Do the things you don't do when you can train.  Write things, work on the inner work of Druidry, read.
Chill out and (big, slow, exhale) relax, be confident you will regain that fitness.
Enjoy a day spent snuggling on the sofa watching films; Lord of the Rings back to back anyone? :)
Also beasting myself on the sleeting roads just gives me colds now, which usully means more time off the bike on sunny days.  So (I give myself a stiff talking to) m'boy do what your ancestors did.  Keep warm, keep healthy and wait for brighter days.  Build the hunger for the pain of training too.  The Oak King is coming, in his season I will be worrying about how to fit training & gardening around family & work.
Then the tiredness will kick in & I will dream of snow days and snuggling!
So enjoy the here and now and do those winter things.  Each activity in it's season and each season has it's place.

Spirits of the Land

On the latest OBOD PodCast  Kristoffer Hughes suggests that  honouring the British gods is essential to an animistic view of the world.  The myths and legends of this land tell us who to honour where.  It clarified something that I'd been doing but had been worried about - that when in Wales I honour Welsh gods.
But Kristoffer, in his inimitable engaging style, says that not only is this ok but is the right thing to do if you follow a path that honours the spirits of the land.
In Sussex, the land of the South Saxons, I work with the Anglo-Saxon spirits that I know and love.   In Wales I find out the local legends and honour those spirits when I am in that landscape, after all, it's only good manners to thank the hosts of the landscape you're in.  It does not mean you're untrue to your patron Gods but it's a Pagan thing to do this acknowledging other Gods and traditions whilst you are in their time and space.

Walking the land is essential to understand the spirits of the land and so in Wales knowledge of the local myths and legends is essential if you're travelling there.
Discovering new paths on the landscape is, for me, an essential Gewessi practice but also ties in with my Mountain Biking; I must write up the story of Afan Argoed, Gwynn ap Nudd and me.   Travelling the land invokes the Spirit of the Land who is the/a/one of the Goddess'.

The 3 Cauldrons are essential  to the practice of the Northern Tribes, as they belong to the Goddess' of the Land, and consist of :
Inspiration that nourishes and invigorates,   
Transformation that sustains our  energy, 
Examination or Testing that casts scorn upon our well laid plans.

The Cauldron of Inspiration is the knowledge seeking to find the myths & legends of the land.  The Cauldron of Transformation is invoked by physically going out and walking the land, it is the enquiry into the landscape.  Finally the landscape responds and often with a challenge; the Cauldron of Examination.  A great rainstorm, a heavy headwind or scorching heat have all been challenges the landscape has thrown me.  Often it means an initial attempt to travel to a particular place will fail.   I will return with my tail-between-my-legs, humbled by the landscape.
The benefits come when returning, wiser and more determined.  The spirits of the land then reward your efforts.

Haiku: Winter

Holly King's last bite?
Clean white melts to slushy grey,
lethargic leaves, warm bed.

Sacred Space & Techno-Shamanism

Many years ago during my raving days, which as a lifestyle choice has it's own risks both physical and mental, I was drawn to Techno-shamanism. Whilst it's spirituality was, possibly, tainted by it's chemically induced methods it did teach me a lot about sacred space. At a rave, whether in a nightclub or in a field, you use your dance as a kind of ritual to create your own personal sacred space.

In a similar way you can use the ritual of calling the quarters to create your own sacred space. I don't have a sacred space in the house; it is wherever I am performing sacred work. The sacred space is created by my ritual; whether it be the Druidic spiral of calling the quarters or the Hearthen blot by blessing the feasting horn. It is a space both physically, in space and time, and transrationally within me.

Just in case anyone is interested here's a bit more about Techno-Shamanism ============================== ================================== Goals of Techno-shamanism:

1. Create and maintain sacred space.
2. Create alternate awareness.
3. Translate music into energy and movement (dance the energy).
4. Understand the nature of attention and focus to be able to transform energy into awareness.
5. Invoke friendly spirits, guides and other dimensions to guide your journey.
6. Transcend yourself by experiencing a state of ecstasy and bliss.
7. Connect and commune with other people and dance the group mind.
8. Allow yourself to feel the unity of the tribe.
9. Dissolve fear and experience the power of transcendence.
10. Find meaning, purpose and humour in your life.
11. Apply these processes and experiences to your everyday life.

Who am I?
Why am I here?
Where am I going?
=========== =================================
http://ashejournal.com/index.php?id=277

Weard-gework

Weard-gework; just what do I mean? It's my Gewessi view of the discipline of action; working wyrd. I was listening to an old OBOD Druidcast (number 46 I think) where the lady talking mentioned that only those who have a daily focus to their spiritual practice seem to reap the deep spiritual gnosis and she prefers their company

http://www.druidry.org/druid-way/resources/druidcast-obod-podcast

This daily practice concept is one that is common to all work that brings long term benefit. On Velominati, a road cycling fan site that I'm over-fond of, it's called La Vie Velominati; the life as a road cyclist. http://www.velominati.com/

In Yoga it's called Karma Yoga and is thus an ancient spiritual practice - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karma_yoga

Much of my pagan work is done inside, the British weather is not always conducive to outside work, but the true Weard-gework is outside and involves physical effort. Perhaps it's the combination of adrenalin and endorphins with the patterns of nature that, for me, brings benefit to my spirit.

An example occurred this weekend – a combination of a virus, the weather being very wet and Yuletime festive commitments meant I'd not been on my bike much. I'd been 2 weeks without MTBing. Which, in my head, is a long time and doubts start to gnaw at my soul, much like Nidhogg gnaws the roots of Yggdrasil. Am I still a biker? Am I getting too old? How much will it hurt to get back into the rhythm? Is my chest well enough to ride? The belittling nagging madness that is sometimes my negative-mind chatter.

I pumped up the tyre (I must replace that slow leaky inner-tube) and got on my winter soul bike. Three gears with the fourth gear option of shank's pony; walking. I headed out into the grey dreariness and past Blackstone. My body was complaining, legs aching in the way they do when they've been unused for a while. Then hit the off-road and the first muddy bog. As my foot sunk into the sodden clay the laughter bubbled up. Frige is my mud-goddess and in the winter we play whilst waterproof socks keep me dry. Skipping, or attempting to skip, over each mudhole in the trail I practice the mount and dismount of the bike and I don't care that I'm no cyclo-crosser. I'm outside and the tree lined trail is marvellous. I feel the energy poised in the leaf tips for the spring explosion. The Oak King is born and the birds are singing.

As I approach the hills a gap in the grey clouds appears and a hint of blue sky! My hope for sunshine on the top of the Downs briefly takes wing. Then there's the climb ahead of me. The Edge of the World is the path up. Certainly not rideable, even in the best of conditions, for a mortal like myself. I grab the bike and start the push& trudge up the steep, claggy wall upwards. I'm settling into the rhythmic pain of climbing, a familiar pain as calves and back ache. Near the top I feel an energy pulling me and my spirit soars – two trees lovingly entwined. An Elder and a Hawthorn I'd never noticed the two of them before. I spent a moment with them and moved up into the fog.

My hope of sunshine had been dashed but the fog enfolded me like a chilly blanket. I know this land so well 50 yards visibility is more than enough. I leap-frogged some women runners over the next couple of rises until just before the final climb they asked me how to get back to Portslade. I discussed where they expected to get back and divined the route for them. Riding up to Devils Dyke and down to Saddlescombe I then play gate opening leap-frog with another MTB'er. Discovering that he lived near to me but was going to take the road as he didn't know another route. My turn as navigator or trail-seer had come again. I took him over the next hill and pointed him home.

The nidhogg of mind silenced in the land-boon of spirit.  True weard-gework.

Yule

Burning spear of sun's  waning,
A final show at cycles end.
A beautiful sunburst
Supernova marks year's end
Lances through leaf lost Hurst.

Psyche shielding

I use the visualisation for psychic protection and to draw emotional strength from it. It's not a particularly special visualisation; a classic Arthurian based one.

You are kneeling in front of an altar, it is dark & stormy outside but there is a single candle lit upon the altar (in my youth the altar was in a typical church but now the church is roofless and romantically ruined). It sits within a green wood grove, verdigris with moss, where ferns are growing out of the stones walls and multi-coloured lichen cover the stones. The storm is outside the grove. You are wearing full plate stainless steel armour, that is polished until it gleams like silver. You are holding the sacred sword, Excalibur, point down in front of the altar. A knights shield is upon your back polished to become a perfect mirror. Stare at the flickering light of the candle which reflects spears of light from the sword and armour. On a long and deep in-breath draw the light from the candle into yourself. On a slow out-breath let the light fill you until it overflows into your armour, sword and shield. You have become the light and within you is the power of the pure paladin - nothing can break this defense. The light gleaming from your armaments holds back the dark. You are safe.

I then bring my consciousness back. As I've been using to for a long time it's ingrained & I can complete the visualisation in a single breath cycle. I normally touch wood to ground myself and bring a little luck

Newbie post

Ah my first blog post - not sure what to start with but as I say this is a place to store various writings.   It's the time of year to get motivated to build for the New Year.  My ride yesterday has shown that my Samhuin break (somewhat virally enforced) has reduced my fitness to a pitiful level.

I need to get motivated and back in training which will coincide with additional Druidic work.

As this is a place to store my writings I shall start with an appropriate poem. 
Tree Binding
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What is the alchemy of windering tree

to transmute such ire without a needful pyre?

When lonely travail on the hammerhead trail

strikes my melancholy heart with cutting hail

the trees reach out - oak, hawthorn, beech and sprout

forth inside. Great buds of joy bring forth a shout

of wonderous glee when only talking tree

can bring a smile upon a lonely mile.

When forced to wander with a bitter mind

that youthful trauma enforced with daily grind

t'was in the shelter of familiar woods

that groping memory finds the same old goods;

that wonderous glee, found in talking tree,

the fledgling smile upon the lonely mile.

Such wise chemistries belongs in the trees,

the transformational power, from dust to flower,

is better in the branches than human tranches.

Yet their generosity is wonderful to be

budding forth such glee discovered with the tree

those returning smiles over everlasting miles.

I tend to think of the subconscious as my inner compost heap; all the stuff gets put in there.
It then feeds the conscious garden, and I often think my real garden probably reflects my conscious mind - striving to be ordered but somewhat over-crammed with plants, a little bit neglected and messy but with moments of excellence.
Probably a bit like this Blog will be...

I think there is a balance between the discipline of writing and waiting for the inspiration. It reminds me of a visitation in meditation, during one of the Gwersi...
I was in an Autumnal grove, all fallen leaves and low light levels when between two tree trunks a light appeared. The trunks seemed to move apart and there was the sound of rumbling and a blowing of leaves. A large wain appeared - a large, square hut like wagon on many small wheels# - rapidly running into the grove to stop in a shower of leaves and curling mist. The wain is that dark green that Holly has and is full of the deep tones that the Weald's marsh / fens have. As the doorway opened outwards, becoming a stepped ramp, Frige in all her beauty & wonder steps forth to say
"If you want to be a writer then WRITE."
She gives a meaningful stare, the one that Granny Weatherwax would've used to calm troublesome trolls.
Just as quickly the doorway raises and the Wain rumbles away...

Finally, I also love Haiku (I've produced a day to day account of the Tour de France for the past 7 years) but have developed more recently into a Waka-Gewessi type of 5 lines with 33 syllables which allows more development of ideas.


#I guess similar to Sheelba's house in the Fritz Leiber's Lankhmar series which took inspiration to an extent from Baba Yaga's house and was in turn appropriated by Terry Pratchett for the Luggage.