A CountDown To Alban Hefin: Celebrating The Sun

20180528 COUNTDOWN TO ALBAN HEFIN CELEBRATING THE SUNFor many people today, and certainly in ages past the four compass points were important to daily life and ritual. Those four points represent winter (north), spring (east), summer (south) and autumn (west). Tonight I have the sun, summer, fire, the south in mind as we are in the season of summer and are racing toward the summer solstice.

The summer solstice, Thursday, 21 June 2018 is the time of the longest day of the year, and a time to consider the sun. In Wales that event is lovingly known as Alban Hefin, which means ‘The Light of the Shore’. That event and the shoreline are mystical times and places, liminal, they are ‘thin places’, a meeting of two realms, places and times where things happen.

’Brother Sun and Sister Moon
I seldom see you seldom hear your tune.’

(Donovan: Brother Sun, Sister Moon)

Midsummer’s day is also celebrated in the Eastern Orthodox church, the Roman Catholic, Lutheran and Anglican churches as a feast day, celebrating the birth of John the Baptist, who was the herald to the (incarnated) Light.

And so, the following then has summer and the sun in mind, in general and might6 be useful to you now, and then over the next couple of weeks more articles will appear with the summer solstice in mind, and with ideas of how to celebrate that time in action and ritual.

On midsummer’s eve many people stayed up all night (or perhaps even more woke up early the following morning) to watch the sun rise on the longest day of the year. Candles were carried, bonfires were lit on hilltops and aromatic herbs were thrown into the fire.

‘This is the solstice, the still point of the sun, its cusp and midnight, the year’s threshold and unlocking, where the past lets go of and becomes the future; the place of caught breath.’

(Margaret Atwood)

It was thought that if sick cattle or any poorly people passed through the smoke of that bonfire they would be healed, whilst others might chose a ‘tame’ part of the bonfire and jump across it to ward off bad luck and/or to seek an abundance that year in fertility of the land etc.

Don’t worry If you’re not attending a bonfire celebration, a token and just-as-meaningful candle can be lit as a focal point for to think of the summer solstice and to celebrate that time. Ritual ideas, words and ideas will follow over the next week or so.

But, to whet your appetite the amazing words of that mystic, Hildegard of Bingen spring to mind.

’I, the fiery life of divine essence, am aflame beyond
The beauty of the meadows, I gleam in the waters,
And I burn in the sun, moon and stars.’

(Hildegard of Bingen)

The summer solstice is a dual celebration: on one hand there is much revelry and enjoyment because it is the longest day of the year and the sun is in its ascendancy, but it is also the time when days start to grow shorter, nights longer and the darkness begins to grow. Yes, the circle turns, and the great cycle continues. Tempus fugit.

Although not the summer solstice tonight, there is nothing to stop us celebrating the sun (especially, but not only, in the season of summer) and giving thanks to That Which Is Greater Than Us for it, and so, tonight, I lit a candle.

In the middle of one of the busiest cities on the planet, in my small city garden (okay, a yard), occasionally interrupted by ambulance sirens,  a small oasis of calm ‘blinked’ into existence for a few minutes. On this occasion I didn’t move in ritual, but I revolved the candle in its arrow-marked ‘saucer’: first ‘aiming’ it at the west and pausing, then slowly turning it to face north, then east, and then slowly, and reverently turning it so that it ended facing the southern compass point; the south, representing fire,  the sun.

I closed my eyes and spent a few minutes in silence, aiming not to produce a thought, but just to revel in that inward solitude as best I could, and in the light that the candle was giving out.

And then, quietly I gave thanks using an adapted prayer of ancient Hebrew origin as a basis for my words. Intentionality is all-important.

‘Praise to you, Oh Source Of All, that the celestial heights, the messengers and other hosts, the sun and moon and shining stars should praise you, and here I am, praising you, too, for everything. Sun of righteousness, thank you’.

(Ancient Hebrew prayer adapted)

I sat there for a few more minutes, in silence, and then extinguished the candle flame. The little flame, creating so much light before was dark was gone, and the darkness closed in.

I sat there in the darkness, with the occasional ambulance siren wailing in the distance, a helicopter flying quickly overhead, and despite the busy-ness of others, it was awesome. This oasis of quietness and light slowly, and very slowly,  ‘folded up’, and it was gone (or was it?). And yet, in darkness that surrounds me now, the sun’s light yet blesses someone else with its vitality and abundance.

’Brother Sun and Sister Moon
I now do see you, I can hear your tune
So much in love with all that I survey.’

(Donovan: Brother Sun, Sister moon)

 

Firefall 2018: Poem, Hymn, Liturgy

201800518 FIREFALL 2018 POEM HYMN LITURGYFire!

This Sunday it is fifty days since Easter and in the calendar of some that makes it Pentecost. To others, it’s about five weeks to the summer solstice – a time when I hope to be joining my Christian/Celtic-Druidic Brethren and Druids (and others) at Stonehenge – and it’s a time of preparation and looking forward. A time of celebration.

Respecting others’ traditions, it struck me that fire is the common thread here.

‘The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.’ Ferdinand Foch

Fire, blessing, newness, power, understanding, outpouring, gratitude, regardless of our many and splendid, varied and awesome traditions and interpretations it is a time of remembrance and celebration. A time of praise.

Fire fell at that first, new, Pentecost some two thousand years ago, and fire was important to ancient and is important to latter-day Celts and Druids, and others, as we are in the season of summer, whose cardinal representative (compass) point is ‘south’, and so the element is fire.

Fire.

What we have in common ‘lifts’ us out of the mundane-only way of thinking and propels us to a higher plane, an objective way of understanding and perceiving, a new way of looking at the world around us in all its splendour and its people.

Fire transforms. Are we not all in need of (ongoing) transformation? Certainly our economic system is as we see it hurting the world, our political systems and policies are as many suffer unfairly, and many would say we as individuals are in need of that fiery transformation.

‘Love in its essence is spiritual fire.’ Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Spiritual experience, regardless of our spiritual pedigree, takes us higher and higher, and as we look around the dross that is burned off – one usefulness of fire, albeit sometimes painful – we see what is left behind, and what really matters – and for all of us that can be a surprising and humbling experience.

‘Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved and have never been able to reach. The world you desire can be won. It exists.. it is real.. it is possible.. it’s yours.’ Ayn Rand

I believe we are all, individually, locally, globally in need that fire, today. Pentecost and/or the summer solstice are wonderful events to give gratitude and to seek (another, or further, or greater awareness of that) infilling. With that in mind I wrote:

Oh, Sun of Righteousness for All
as on that ancient day
when you looked upon us,
you smiled on humankind
and let your fire fall.

Let your fire fall,
let your fire fall,
let your fire fall on us, today.

Oh, Benevolent Sharer of All
shine your light and understanding now,
newness in mind, and body,
and in spirit, too.
Whisper long-sought words of wisdom to all.

Let your fire fall,
let your fire fall,
let your fire fall on us, today.

Oh, Power Behind It All
may we know the heat of pure desire.
To be, to do, to act in love, authentically,
May our hearts and minds be open
to hear your enlightened call.

Let your fire fall,
let your fire fall,
let your fire fall on us, today.

In a world of long shadows,
grant us, yet another fire-fall.

 

Mysteriously It Flows: A River Poem In The Style Of A Cyrch A Cywta

20180215 MYSTERIOUSLY IT FLOWS

I love poetry, and as you may know those ancient Celts and Druids, and others had a respect, fascination and deep reverence for nature that is often missing today. Though there are many latter-day Celts and Druids and others, that are keeping this deep appreciation for nature alive, in a myriad of wonderful ways.

One such way to do this is though poetry.  And, yes, I’m back in London and only just 200 yards from the mighty River Thames, and so here is my poem of profound respect to that wonderful river, the life-blood of London, and its metaphoric relationship to us.

Mysteriously it flows,
through the great city it knows.
Freshwater to sea, it goes.
The river, meand’ring, prose,
resembles the soul, God knows.
Yet the soul often forgoes
the delight of just being
the light it overshadows.

Poems, depending on their rhyme etc are known by various names – who can forget the iambic pentameter? And the abovementioned style of poem, in Wales, is called a Cyrch a cywta (pronounced kirch-a-choo-tah).

Essentially, the Cyrch a cywta is a awesome poem consisting of a stanza of eight and with each containing seven-syllable in that line. The first six lines and the eighth sharing the same rhyme, and yes, you’ve noticed the seventh line (still with seven syllables) doesn’t have to rhyme like the others.

But, ofcourse, I can’t end this article here, and so would suggest two things: Firstly, to commend you to be aware of nature around you – even in the city – and to cherish it and give thanks for it in some way; and secondly, why not write you own Cyrch a cywta style of poem as an act of gratitude for something, or as a challenging exercise or just for fun (or for all three)? And, should you have a river nearby, you could even use this particular poem as part of your liturgy of thanks, occasionally.

 

Poem: Lights Will Guide You…[Revisited]

20171228 POEM LIGHTS WILL GUIDE REVISITEDWe live in a time when, perhaps, we need guidance more than ever. A map! A way forward! A path to follow. A light?

Guidance is at hand, but sometimes it ‘arrives’ in the mundane, the daily routine of life, in nature, in the elements (and elementals, unseen angels, through other people, a word here or there etc). However we define it, the miraculous is at work in the ‘large’ and the ‘small things of our life, and guidance is at hand.

Ancient sacred texts urges us not to despise the day of small things.  It is easy to do so, in the busy-ness of life. But, when the world was at its darkest, a light shone (and still shines) in the dark streets (of our minds), and the Light(s) will guide you home.

Maybe, sometimes, the guidance we so need can come through song? Why not? What is visible and invisible was called forth by a word, angels sang at the dawn of creation, scientists talk about the ‘music of the spheres’, nature ‘sings’ in the wind and the rain, and our live are like a cosmic dance danced to a tune that we hear deep in our spirit. Yes, I do believe guidance can come to us in a number of ways, and that includes words, song lyrics, poetry, music etc.

Is there something missing,
and you feel that there’s nobody listening?
Could it be that everyone of us is scared,
everyone of us is hurt?

Oh, I think I landed in a world I hadn’t seen,
where a wicked and wild wind blew down the doors to let me in.
Look up, I look up at night, planets are moving at the speed of light.
I hear you come nearer,
I hear you, but I don’t understand.

In your eyes, I drifted away,
and in your arms I just want to sway.
Oh, I think I landed where there are miracles at work.
Time just floated away.

Still I call it magic, a simple plot but I know one day,
good things are coming our way.
Christmas lights, light up the street.
Light up the fireworks in me.

Oh, angel sent from up above.
You know you make my world light up.
Yes, lights will guide you home.

You’re part of the human race,
and, all of the stars and the outer space,
are part of a bigger plan.

If you’d only, if you’d only say yes.
Under this pressure, under this weight we are diamonds taking shape.
Still, I call it magic.
You’re such a precious jewel.

This poem falls within the ‘Found poetry’ genre. According to Wikipedia it ‘is a type of poetry created by taking words, phrases, and sometimes whole passages from other sources and reframing them as poetry (a literary equivalent of a collage) by making changes in spacing and lines, or by adding or deleting text, thus imparting new meaning.’ The abovementioned poem uses ‘borrowed’ phrases from Coldplay song lyrics.

Poem: The Winter’s Light [Winter Solstice]

20171128 THE WINTERS LIGHT POEM

Winter solstice is coming nearer.

I do so love this time of the year. Dark evenings arriving earlier, the temperature dropping, and plans are made. That which we could take for granted now has to be planned. Heating system okay? Enough fuel? Enough salt for the paths, or enough food in the larder? Is my neighbour prepared? What about local wildlife? The season of winter is upon us. And, I love it.

So, one evening (or more) draw up close to the fire or a table lamp, or your favourite corner of your favourite room, making sure the tv is off and distractions are unlikely, and relax.  Contemplate on the turning of the circle as we move to midwinter, and the year just gone. Sometimes I find it’s best just to ‘rest’ at those times, in an attitude of gratitude to the Source for nature etc, and keep thoughts to the minimum. When lovers meet, their company is enough – words are unimportant.

The following poem may assist you in your contemplation of the season, and doubly so if you imbibe your favourite drink – for me, I’ve ‘re-discovered’ Horlicks malt drink, and I’ll be sipping that. Or, you might like to use the poem as part of your liturgy, as an individual, or for your family or (faith)group.

Winter solstice approaches.

The day is over, and night comes early.
Orion is higher in the sky now,
and imaginations are unshackled.
Above us the gods of yesteryear move across the heavens.

The trees are sleeping.
Deep roots are dreaming.

The silvery December moon rises
and the face that smiled upon the Birth,
of yesteryear, also smiles on us.
Above us Rhiannon advances.

The trees are sleeping.
Deep roots are dreaming.

Wise ones seek the Truth,
and beings of light, lit their Way.
Angels? Fae? The Watchers? Elementals, The Others?
And, about us unnamed, invisible Companions guide us still.

The trees are sleeping.
Deep roots are dreaming.

We dance together in the dark,
as the Circle turns, and yet
we dance joyfully and with purpose.
We celebrate the season, that is.
And, around us, in the darkness
we ‘see’ the Friend at work.

The trees are sleeping.
Deep roots are dreaming.

And yet in the darkness,
there shines a Light.
And, in remembrance, we light this festive candle
to the Sun of Righteousness.
And, we declare to all, near and far;
peace and hope, light and love
be to you and yours.
Now, and forever more.

The trees are sleeping.
Deep roots are dreaming.

Winter solstice approaches.

Blessings of The Source of All be to you and yours at this time,
Tadhg

‘Thin Places’ In The City: Poem

20170929 THIN PLACES IN THE CITY POEM

Atop a high mountain or in the dark valley below,
in the corner of your room,
or in the hustle and bustle of the busy city centre,
may you find a ‘thin place’.

It is a place, or time, or event so unique, so full of wonder, so sublime.
A place where Heaven and earth collide,
and the diaphanous veil of separation is unusually thin.
A time where you can almost feel angelic wings beat against your cheeks,
and see the Divine smile shining through.
An event where your heartbeat quickens,
and you experience the mystery of the Other in the ‘mundane’.

A ‘thin place’ is a threshold, a limen, a holy bridge,
a door to the Throne Room, slightly opened.
It is a moment in time and space,
in which we can dwell, and dance, and move, if aware.

A ‘thin place’ is an encouragement, a sacred invitation to draw near,
to approach barefoot, in humility, in reverence and awe.
It is both seen and unseen.
Invisible we see you!

May you, in the wilderness of the countryside, or the city,
find a ‘thin place’ today, and be blessed.

 

A Prayer At Llyn Gwynant: Poem: Revisited

20170926 A PRAYER AT LLYN GWYNANT REVISTED REVISED

When the bitter winds blow,
and the rain pours onto the soul of your life.
When you stumble and fall,
and when tears well up inside, but find no release.
When friends and family are afar,
and those night-hours of abject loneliness seem altogether too close.
When bones ache,
and the future uncertain seems.
Then, may the Divine’s pure radiance pierce your darkest times,
and a spectrum of light fill your heart of hearts,
and show you, as a beacon, the narrow, sure way.

When thoughts race, and won’t be still,
and lightning rages in your mind, disturbing you.
When things seem to go awry, or indeed, when things seem to go right
but there’s an air of disquiet in your inner being.
Then, may He come to you. (He comes in the storm.)

May the Father bless you with His Divine quietness and solitude. Total stillness.
May the Son shine into the totality of your unique self. Perfect brilliance.
May the Spirit, the Divine breath, whisper into your ear that you are a much loved child of God, the apple of His eye. Unconditional grace.

And may you, wherever you find yourself, experience the ‘thin place’ of God’s inestimable presence.

Become The Duet [Revisited]: Poem: Celtic Connectedness

20170912 BECOME THE DUET REVISITEDBeing in london for a while longer, I miss the wilderness of Capel Curig, north Wales. Capel Curig has such a wild-peace about it, and London by contrast is hectic. And, right now, though I miss the solitude, London is where I am. However, it is an amazing city.

The drawback is that it can be overwheleming, and ‘up close and personal’. It can be full of disctractions which pull you in competing directions, and yet for myself, one who loves the countryside and the lights of London, an ‘amphibian’, London is a wonderful, inspiring city.

But, oh the distractions. It’s easy to forget to ask those big questions, easy to forget to pause and ponder, easy to forget why each one of us is here. In London, a crowded city of eight million souls all of that is so, so easy. I am surmising it may be the same where you are (sometimes)?.

We can get so busy ‘doing’, instead of ‘being’.

We can get distracted.

We forget.

Status?

Here’s a poem I write some time ago, revisited.

Poem: Become The Duet

If we were to travel from the wild, ruggedness of Capel Curig,
near the foothills of Yr Wyddfa,
that place of green, of open-space, of dragons, myth and power;
Myrddin’s lair.

If we were to travel to the busy-ness of Old London,
that place of the ancient river of the Celts,
of crowded streets, of neon lights, Druid-energy and oh-so many people,
the Voice can be heard.

If we were to pause,
wherever we are, just for one moment,
to revel in life that is happening around us, to us, in us, through us,
we would hear the Voice.

Distractions come,
and a distancing from all that is natural seems to happen.
But, only seemingly, so.
The Voice that spoke creation into being,
thunders in the wilderness, whispers in built-up places,
but speaks, still.
The Voice can be heard, if….
…if we have ears to hear.

If we would but listen to the music of our life,
our body would sway in time to the primal beat of times of old.
If we would but gaze at beauty around us,
our mind would laugh crazily with delight at the colours seen.
If we would but ponder, and feel deep within our soul
the love-song of the Friend,
then we would know the reason why we are here.

Become the duet.

 

Haiku #10: Harvest Celebration With Alban Elfed In Mind

20170828 HAIKU 10 HARVEST CELEBRATION ALBAN ELFEDIn a few weeks time it will be Alban Elfed (which is Welsh for ‘the light of the water), and it is the second and final harvest of the year (for those of us in the northern hemisphere. It’s one of my favourite times of the year.

It will then be the time of autumn equinox (so I’ll come back to that in a few weeks). Then we’ll be celebrating the time of equal day and equal night, and have in mind water as water is the ‘dominant’ element for the season, and the westward-looking compass point is the ‘dominant’ point on the ‘wheel’ for that time. Oh. it’s a great time to indulge in deep thought, ponder nature’s provision and extend gratitude.

As you may know, I’m also fascinated by the traditional haiku – those short Japanese poems consisting of three pithy lines; and the lines containing firstly five syllables, then seven, then five. And here’s a few haiku (which can be viewed as several stand alone poems, or one of several verses) with Alban Elfed in mind. The Haiku, below, can be used in liturgy for that time or (just) as poetry for the season.

Nature’s circle turns,
and night and day are balanced.
Time for heartfelt thanks.

Water, that gives life,
often taken for granted,
appreciated.

The earth’s provision
at this bless-ed harvest-time,
for all people, stored.

Easterly winds blow,
renew our spirit’s within.
Congruous lifestyle.

Warming sun of all,
now, in this season balanced.
Sun of righteousness.

Nature’s circle turns,
and with gratitude given.
Source of All be praised.

The verses can be viewed as one poem with several verses, and if used in Celtic, Proto-Christian or Druidic liturgy/ceremonies you might like to consider facing the cardinal compass points as you read/recite it: Verse two, for instance, is about water, the dominant element for this season and so one would face west; verse three one would face north for the element of earth; verse three is about air/wind and so one would face east; and verse four is about the sun element and so one would face south.

But, whatever you do, and however you celebrate this time, my recommendation is that you take ‘time out’ to reflect and/or so something special and appropriate to give gratitude for the earth’s awesome bounty.

‘Ah, Moon And Star’: Full Moon Poem [Found Poetry]

20170807 AH MOON AND STAR FULL MOON POEMAs you know, I like to write poetry, and in the past have done so for the time of the full moon. As well as previous moon poems, and the last few days writing here about celebrating today’s full moon, here’s a poem for this particular full moon.

Ah, moon and star
you are so very far,
and yet, the moon came into the forge
in her bustle of flowering nard. *
Then fairy fire enkindles it
like a gossamer by a taper lit.

Art thou pale from weariness
of climbing heaven and gazing upon the earth?
As I gaze upon thee in the sky
a single tear of joy does moisten mine eye.

Once upon a time I heard
that the flying moon was, infact, a Phoenix bird,
but the moon has a face like the clock in the hall
and she shines on thieves on the garden wall.

When, round and full, her silvery face
swims into sight, it lights all space.
It is so sad and so beautiful, and yet
so tremulously like a dream.

Direct my footsteps through the woodland shade,
the lovers guardian, and the Muse’s aid.
Blow the trumpet at the new moon,
at the full moon, and on our feast day.
For a million light-years away
we three will meet again,
deep in the milky way.

There’s a lunar surface rarely seen.
There’s a face on it!
Maybe God’s? Who knows?

You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea.
Pour down your unstinted nimbus energy, sacred moon, on me.

This poem falls within the ‘Found poetry’ genre. That is, it ‘is a type of poetry created by taking words, phrases, and sometimes whole passages from other sources and reframing them as poetry (a literary equivalent of a collage), and by minor making changes in spacing and lines, or by adding or deleting text, thus imparting new meaning.’ It’s also an interesting way to be introduced to numerous different poets and their style. The poem, above, comes from many sources. See below:

Lines 1, 2 Emily Dickinson; Lines 3, 4 Federico Garcia Lorca; Lines 5,6 Robert William Service; Lines 7,8 Robert Louis Stevenson, Lines 9, 10  William Topaz McGonagali; Lines 13, 14 Sappho; Lines 17, 18 Dylan Thomas; Lines 19, 20 Ella Wheeler Wilcox; Lines 21, 22 Psalm 81v3 (The Book); Line 23 John Tiong Chunghoo; Lines 24, 25 Li Po; Lines 26, 27, 28 Kelly Vinal; Line 29 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu; Line 30 Walt Whitman.

*Nard (plant) or spikenard, or an aromatic oil derived from that plant.