Hymn to Sol or Sunna at Litha or Alban Hefin the Summer Solstice

Taken from http://www.pinterest.com/pin/337699672030798190/

Hymn to Sol

(inspired by Rig-Veda Book 1 Hymn to Surya)

Your bright beams, aloft are born

fairest of face, the bright fulgor;

Grace-shine the bringer of beauty.

Across Ymir's day-nascent skull -

Your rays herald like hunting horns

So refulgant from afar.

Beacons that burn and blaze.

Swift and sublime, you are Sunna

Maker of light, illuminator.

You brighten Gods, lighten all beings

traversing sky, bring day to birth

with brilliance your beams mark days

over the business of being.

Early To Wake and Very Quick

bear your wagon, the lovely wheel

across the sky, God-blithe Glen's wife.

All-Bright remove my hearts disease

with your all-conquering vigour.

Wassail Sunna with awen, awen, awen

 

Round the Barrows

It was a hot sunny day and I was back amongst the Tumuli of my Sussex ancestors at the Barrow Cemetary at Sullington Warren. I was working with the National Trust to keep this as heathland against the encroaching woodland. The morning was hard graft with a mattock which is like a pickaxe but with a broader, flattened adze like edge. I was removing young trees from one of the Round Barrows, they were mostly Oak with some Rowan and other trees such as Holly and Buckthorn. I was working on the dry part of the heathland sitting on the Greensand ridge.
The Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) notification says "This area of scrub supports a varied invertebrate fauna, and two invertebrate groups well represented here are the Aculeate Hymenoptera (bees, ants. and wasps) and Coleoptera (beetles). Of particular interest is a locally uncommon beetle Apion fuscirostre which lives specifically on broom and has been recorded at this site."
It felt strange, as a Druid, to be killing young Oak trees and yet without this work a rare natural habitat for heathland flora and fauna would be lost. It felt right as a Gewessi to be clearing the burial mounds of our Pagan ancestors with hard graft. For a, normally office bound, middle-age modern Pagan swinging a mattock in beautiful Sussex sunshine was a mix of the beauty of Vanaheim and the heat of Muspelheim Applying a little Logos to the situation there is an area for the Oak and deciduous trees on the site, which is protected as well as an area for Pine. The aim with this work is to retain the balance between Oak, Pine and Heathland on the site so that it can provide benefit to all. Here's the barrow we cleared:

The afternoon was then spent in the wet more boggy heathland nearer the Pines - removing the young pine trees attempting to take over. Here the humidity and dead heather made it a different kind of hard, scratchy work. We made in impression on both sites helping the wardens to manage the sites. The heather is dead, above the ground it has been killed by Heather Beetle. What the heathland needs now is a good fire to cleanse it BUT with a small nature reserve surrounded by houses a controlled burn is not an option the heather needs to be managed in another way, by people. Which all reminds me of the Rush song...
"The Trees"

There is unrest in the forest
There is trouble with the trees
For the maples want more sunlight
And the oaks ignore their pleas

The trouble with the maples
(And they're quite convinced they're right)
They say the oaks are just too lofty
And they grab up all the light
But the oaks can't help their feelings
If they like the way they're made
And they wonder why the maples
Can't be happy in their shade

There is trouble in the forest
And the creatures all have fled
As the maples scream 'Oppression!'
And the oaks just shake their heads

So the maples formed a union
And demanded equal rights
'The oaks are just too greedy
We will make them give us light'
Now there's no more oak oppression
For they passed a noble law
And the trees are all kept equal
By hatchet, axe and saw.

Island mentality and Wabi Sabi

Watching Chelsea Flower Show and the gorgeous Togenkyo, A Paradise on Earth, garden reminds me of the similarities that living on an island, or archipelago, brings. There is a similarity between "the fable of Togenkyo, a place of beautiful scenery that can help people to forget their troubles and strife, but that once visited cannot be revisited" and many of the Celtic stories of people visiting the Summerlands and the otherworldly people who dwell there.
Which brings me to the English Garden and Gertrude Jekyll. I think she would have approved of the Zen philosophy of Wabi Sabi. I was at a garden plant swap / sale this weekend where the garden seemed to fulfil the Wabi Sabi principles.

The principles seem also very Druidic to me. On care.com I once found this as a summary of the principles involved:

Zen’s seven ruling principles

• Asymmetry (Fukinsei): Stiff, formal symmetry, suggesting frozen finality and artificial perfection, can be fatal to the imagination. Asymmetry lets us be loose and spontaneous—more human than godlike. It means we can get by with one—or three—candlesticks, and all the china doesn’t have to match.
• Simplicity (Kanos): Zen eschews gaudy, ornate, the over embellished in favour of sparse, fresh, and neat. It’s the triumph of craftsman style over the cluttered Victorian parlour.
• Austerity (Koko): Zen asks us to reduce everything to “the pith of essence.” Don’t love it? Can’t find a use for it? Let it go.
• Naturalness (Shizen): Zen is artless, without pretence or self-consciousness. It is bare wood, unpolished stone, and flowers from the backyard.
• Subtle Profundity (Yugen): Within Zen lies a deep reserve, a mysterious, shadowy darkness. The hint of soft moonlight through a skylight would be yugen.
• Freedom from Worldly Attachments (Datsuzoku): The Buddha taught us not to be bound to life, things, or rules. “It is not a strong bond, say the wise, that is made of iron, wood, or hemp,” he said. “Far greater an attachment than that is the longing for jewels and ornaments, children and wives.” It’s the simplicity movement, not keeping up with the Joneses.
• Silence (Sejaku): Inwardly oriented, Zen embraces the quiet calm of dawn, dusk, late autumn, and early spring.

Beltaine Need Fire

It was a fine day, a strong day, a bright day and sat atop one of the Neolithic dykes where I could call the quarters and re-affirm my commitment to the Gewessi path atop Wolstonbury hill. As ever a guilty voice of negativity arose that I should be at the Anderida Grove's open ceremony by the Long Man. My Gewessi voice suppressed it with the need-fire rule...

Need Fire Rule

Prioritise what is needful - each action causes an effect. In this case my needful tasks were to trim the hedges, mow the lawn, prune the ivy and virginia creeper. Tasks delayed through procrastination, weather and illness during the Eostre part of the year. To attend the Anderida Grove's ceremony would have taken a day out of this long weekend. The needful tasks would not have been done, which would have caused stress and had a negative affect. I did the needful tasks which allowed time for this excellent ride and time on Wolstonbury. So once the heavy lifting of those big tasks are complete there was time for a bit of weeding and pottering...

A weed is just a plant in the wrong place

As I sat in the garden thinking about the relationships in my life I realised that this relationship with the garden is one of my more important ones. It has taught me to work with nature and thus influenced my gardening style. My wife commented about how when I started in this garden I used to put things in a regimented style but now manage to plant bulbs much more naturally. In addition much of the garden is now full of plants that started off as weeds but are now in a place pleasing to the eye, well I think so! In addition, now we're down to one old cat, the wildlife has come out. We had a blackbird nest by our lounge window. I think this was a second generation Hen who 'knows' us or rather knows we're not a threat. The birds were funny about us watching them go to the nest but were not flustered by our being outside, in the garden. The three chicks have now flown and I am constantly finding them around the garden as they mature from fledglings into adult blackbirds.

The Wrens and Robins are nesting in the garden also, whilst the Slow Worms in the compost are doing well too. Even the volume of midges that sucked the blood out of my exposed calves (owwwww the itching!) indicate a garden full of wildlife. Which makes me happy and that is what I see as the purpose for this modern small garden, it as a natural oasis and refuge from the stresses of this world. I strive for a balance between my interference to create areas of aesthetic interest, the needs of the wildlife in it and the desire of certain plants to dominate the whole garden.

Eostre - is this a pattern?

So this celebration of the the outward rejuvenation of the land occurred just as I was getting 'flu. Another year with no cycle ride up Wolstonbury Hill to avow my commitment on the Gewessi path, although this time the conditions were good it was just me who wasn't. A week of getting ill, one week really being ill and another week recovering with no energy. During that recovery week, my Eostre holiday just putting two posts in the garden exhausted me! This left everything else behind, as my holiday goals were to get the garden in order. The remaining three weeks of Eostre have been spent just catching up.

My first MTB ride was a great reminiscent ride over to Houghton Forest with my friend. A route that revisits the Yew that helped push me onto this path. It was good to see it still standing in the forest. Our 'traditional' circuit I've not ridden for a few years now and the memory of the route has faded in certain places. Fortunately between my friend and I we corrected each other's mistakes. As we struggled up the impossible climb at Droke it struck me that we've been riding these trails over in West Sussex for over 20 years now, building a relationship with landscape and a knowledge of its ways. The memories of previous experiences and youthful vigour along with the comparison of where we are now were interesting. Part of the ride's aim was to see the bluebells in the forest above Upwaltham, sadly they've never recovered from the logging / clearance a few years ago. However, their blue carpet and heady Hyacinth scent have been spectacular for my commute to work. At Upwaltham we took time to remember the tragic last flight of Lancaster DV382

Eostre was a transitional period as ever from the winter to summer. On the plus side it has been the season when the Narcissi bulbs I planted in the front garden have popped up. To some the garden will look messy but in this part of the year I wanted it to look like a pretty naturalistic woodland glade with spring flowers in amongst the shrubs. There's still some work to go this autumn in achieving this affect.

However, Eostre has it's compensations in the Hot Cross Buns from my local baker:

Blackthorn bloom

Brilliant White blossoms crown
pauper hedges in albino down,
warm returns,
winter's strafe is done.
This bridal hedgerow conception
in anticipation of autumn's sun,
fruit cycle,
of round, deep blue sloes.
The bloom belies the black thorn's woes;
strife and straif
of the shillelagh storms
and Lepidoptera worms.
But now the Northern Cherry shines
and brightens Albion's climes.

Scrub Bashing

Scrub Bashing - a Pagan Morality Tale

Should a pagan feel guilty about chopping baby trees? I've seen some people's views that man shouldn't 'mess' with nature. It was something I was pondering as I hacked down the scrubland of Ash, brambles and Whitethorn and various other scrub plants on the South Downs. It was one of my employers charity days where we get the opportunity to spend a day out of the office working for a charity. This was for the National Trust on Newtimber Hill.

The question of why we were clearing the scrub, opening it up for pasture to allow the cattle and sheep to graze the land was soon answered. The real reason was the ants... yes ants! As you walk over this downland you find various tussocks across the landscape. These tussocks on chalk downland are often ant nests and they form a little micro-climate around them. This micro-climate allows a variety of rare downland flowers to thrive, including the Horshoe Vetch. However, of equal significance is the interesting symbiotic relationship between these ants and the Chalkhill Blue butterfly (Polyommatus coridon). The Chalkhill Blue lays it's eggs near it's food plant on the ant tussocks. The ants, so I'm told, then gather the eggs and take them deep into their nest to look after them. When the caterpillar hatches the ants feed the caterpillars and harvest secretions they give out, the caterpillar also produces secretions that the ants like when it pupates. The Chalkhill Blue is a key Ancient Chalk Grassland species and symbol of the Sussex Wildlife Trust. Ancient Chalk Grassland is also a very bio-diverse habitat.

The land that we bashed scrub on, it's hard work on a steep hill but we managed to clear all this:

Ancient Chalk Grasslands and their ant's are important. What happens when the land is not managed is that shrubs and trees invade shading out the flowers and ant's nests. The habitat is destroyed, an ancient habitat that's been the environment on this landscape for thousands of years. They were around since the Bronze Age and were most probably created during the Neolithic. This would place the age of the Grassland on Newtimber at a minimum of 4,500 years, probably older. The last Ice Age ended around 9,000 years ago which means that the Ancient Chalk Grassland has been the predominant environment in this landscape. An eco-system that humans have been an integral part of maintaining through their management of livestock, cattle and sheep. In this respect it is our eco-responsibility to maintain that environment and ensure its sustainability.

Which brings me to Vegetarianism and whether it is eco-responsible or not. To maintain Ancient Chalk Grassland it requires livestock, sheep and cattle. The type of sheep and cattle that thrive in this environment can be typified by the South Down sheep, these are raised for their wool and their meat. Their wool is not prolific enough or fine enough for the sheep to be considered solely for wool production. Their meat, however, is very good. In this respect to maintain the eco-system it is necessary to eat some meat, as it is a by-product of maintaining the eco-system. So as long as you know the provenance of the meat you buy, fortunately my local butcher specialises in meat from local farms, eating meat a few times a week is the eco-responsible thing to do. The argument that veggies often come out with is that there is enough land to feed everyone if they were vegetarians. Their argument has two main assumptions:

• that all agricultural land is suitable for arable crops
• that the land can be intesively farmed

Which are both flawed from an ecosophical point of view. Not all agricultural land is arable, a large proportion is only suitable for raising livestock which means eating meat. To intensively farm arable land you require high volumes of fertiliser which is not environmentally friendly. The argument is a typical 'one size fit's all' solution that does not fit into the way the world is. In reality each person needs to understand their locality and choose a combination of vegetables, meat, dairy and fish in their diet that has the least possible environmental impact. Of course this needs balancing with my Gewessi rule of ALBOWUF :-)
But I didn't mean for this scrub bashing to become veggie bashing! I have no problem with vegetarians, I have issues with vegetarians who take the moral high ground for the reasons above. If someone doesn't like or want to eat meat then that is fine with me. I'll stick to a bit of Minty Lamb Chop from a South Down sheep sourced, via my butcher, from a local Downland farm.

Hidden gems

The car drivers, in derogative cyclist's terminology known as 'cagers', driving north from Brighton on the A23 don't realise that within a stone's throw of their headlong rush there is a beautiful haven of Imbolc beauty. For only a couple of weeks a year does it wear this gown before returning to it's guise as an unremarkable copse of the ancient Anderida forest.

Hraesvelgr, Olvaldi and his sons

Olvaldi is the father of Thjazi, father of Skadi the Ice Giantess, Iði and Gangr who are all storm giants. Hraesvelgr is a giant, in the form of an eagle, who sits at the top of the world and causes the winds to blow when he beats his wings. In the cauldron of my Gewessi thoughts I see Hraesvelgr as controlling the jet streams. It is the jet stream that modern Logos has discovers controls the winds and thus the weather around the world. So why are these Jotun's in my thoughts?

Because the Ents, Giants or Jotun's personify the natural forces that are outside of human control and Hraesvelgr and Olvaldi's sons apply specifically to winter in North Western Europe. If the Eagle beats his wings one way then the Jet Stream moves allowing Thjazi, or rather Thjazi's daughter to control the period from Yule to Eostre. As happened in 2013 when we were plunged into a very cold period of ice and snow.

Hraesvelgr beat his wings another way this winter and instead we have been at the mercy of Iði and Gangr who have wrought storm after storm over us causing floods and havoc. They started just at Yule, although the Christian / St.Jude storm was a precursor before Samhuin, and have continued through to Imbolc. It brings to mind the Anglo Saxon Riddle (answer storm):

Sometimes my lord corners me;
then He imprisons all that I am
under fertile fields - He frustrates me,
condemns me in my might to darkness,
casts me into a cave where my warden, earth,
sits on my back. I cannot break out
of that dungeon, but I shake halls
and houses; the gabled homes of men
tremble and totter; walls quake,
then overhang. Air floats above earth,
and the face of the ocean seems still
until I burst out from my cramped cell
at my Lord's bidding, He who in anger
buried me before, so shackled me that I
could not escape my Guardian, my Guide.

Sometimes I swoop to whip up waves, rouse
the water, drive the flint-grey rollers
to the shore. Spumming crests crash
against the cliff, dark precipice looming
over deep water; a second tide,
a sombre flood, follows the first;
together they fret against the sheer face,
the rocky coast. Then the ship is filled
with the yells of sailors; the cliffs quietly
abide the ocean's froth and fury,
lashing waves, racing rollers
that smash against stone. The ship must face
a savage battle, a bitter struggle,
if the sea so buffets it and its cargo
if souls that it is no longer under control
but, fighting for life, rides foaming
on the spines of breakers. There men see
the terror I must obey when I bluster
on my way. Who shall restrain it?

At times I rush through the dark clouds
that ride me, churn the sea into a frenzy,
then afterwards let the waters subside.
When one cloud collides with another,
edge against sharp edge, the din
of destruction, a mighty noise, echoes
above the dwellings of men; dark bodies,
hastening, breathe fire overhead,
flashing lightning; thunderous crashes
shake the sky, then growl darkly.

The clouds do combat, dark drops
fall, rustling rain from their wombs.
A fear-tide flows in the hearts of men,
a growing terror - strongholds succumb
to dread - when that ghastly troop goes
on the rampage, and shrithing evil spirits,
spurting flames, shoot sharp weapons.

A fool is unafraid of the death-spears,
but for all that he will die
if the true Lord lets fly the arrow,
a whistling weapon, straight through rain
from the whirlwind above. Few men
survive if they are struck by lightning.

I am the origin of all that strife,
when I rush through the concourse of clouds,
surge forward with great strength, and fly
over the face of the water. Troops on high
clash noisily; then afterwards,
under cover of night, I sink to earth,
and carry off some burden on my back,
renewed once more by my Lord's power.

I am a mighty servant: sometimes
I fight, sometimes wait under the earth;
at times I swoop and sink under water,
at times whip up waves from above;
sometimes I stir up trouble
amongst scudding clouds; swift and savage,
I travel widely. Tell me my name,
and Who it is rouses me from my rest,
or Who restrains me when I remain silent.