Lughnasadh
was exciting.
Now it
had been an exciting week leading up to the last weekend of July. After years
of hemming and hawing we had finally called the county storm-water managers,
and arranged to have the old drainage ditch re-dug. This turned out to be a
Giant Project, and all week long we were semi-supervising the county crew as
they tore through our woods to cut the ditch. The final result will be a new
road through the woods, connecting the old half of the property with the new,
along with vastly improved drainage, woods no longer turning to swamp, etc. It
still feels a lot like we summoned a crew of moderate-sized demons to help us
build out new temple…
Fortunately
the new barn cleans up easily, and actual prep for the gathering went smoothly.
Saturday was moderately attended, but the evening musical sets were very nice,
and the fireworks and laser (yes, my kin, laser) show in our backyard was a
real treat. As a side bonus we met more of our neighbors, and found them to be
young, open and unconcerned about our brand either of fun or of religion. On we
go toward that scary moment when we hang up a shingle on our road.
Two contestants strive at Staff-wrestling |
To
review, our Lughnasadh customs include a five-game competition, the winner
standing as the Champion of the Grove for the coming year. The new Champion and
the old face off in the rite, in a dance of spear and bread-loaf commemorating
Lugh’s defeat of the Old Giant. The five games are
• Rock-Toss: as titled, thrown for distance
• Loggets: a lawn-bowling game in which an irregular stone
is thrown at an irregular stand of logs, across an irregular lawn. A
combination of skill and luck…
• Board-game: varies from year to year. We’ve done Morris
games, Othello, Brandubh, and this year another variant of fidchel, or the tafl
games.
• Staff-wrestling: Opponents stand in a narrow court, each
holding one end of a staff. Goal is to move the opponent out of the court, or
make them release the staff. As close as we get to grappling.
• Poetry: Contestants must write nine lines of poetry in any
style, on a topic chosen at the moment, in nine minutes, then read them to be
judged by a panel.
The
exciting part, for me, is that I won! Well, I split the win in a tie with one
of our newer folks, so I’m co-champion for the year. I’ll admit, after whining
about feeling old, that I’m pleased. I placed first in Loggets, first in the
Stick, and third (damn their eyes) in poetry, so a nice well-rounded skill-set
to finish my boast.
The Spear and Loaf dance from a previous year. |
The
other end of the excitement began when the radar and local forecasts made it
plain that we were about to get hit with a wave of severe weather, just in time
for Sunday’s ritual. I can count the number of times we’ve been rained into the
barn for ritual on one hand, even now, but this was one of them. There may be
an occult angle to that as well.
We are
working to move our spiritual work on this land from the small nemeton that has
served us for some twenty years into a new glade with new structures up the
hill. Since before Solstice we have been building, making offerings and doing
divinations. While public omens have previously been lovely I’ve had a couple
of private concerns that I have attempted to mitigate by offerings.
Arriving
at Sunday, we had decided to make-do in the admittedly unfinished new nemeton,
hallowing it as part of the Lughnasadh rite. This was not to be. Driving rain
sent us under roof. Fortunately we have a nice fire, well and tree available in
the outer room of the barn, and we had a cozy and well-seated rite. The omen,
drawn in the ogham letters, was
Ceirt, Fearn, and Huath.
ADF
druids may wonder why we didn’t call that an ill omen and call for more
offerings, as is our custom in such situations. First, I don’t consider Ceirt
particularly ill. Second, the ‘terror’ of Huath, in my opinion, is in some ways
the experience of meeting the Other Crowd. Having these two centered by the
protection and strength of Fearn was reassuring. Also specific to our case is
that the apple-meadow at Tredara is in one corner, while the Hawthorn-hedge
property line is in the other. One very local way of reading that omen is that
Fearn protects, from apple to hawthorn. Thus the seer and I looked at each
other, and decided to accept the omen as a blessing. Some blessings, as we
teach, include lessons.
Generic lightning, but it was like this... |
The
company was feasting in peace, rain heavy but not frightening, when cell-phones
lit up with a tornado warning for our small county. Now, until recently, a warning meant that a funnel had been
sighted, so folks began to get worried. Recent tech advances means they issue
the warning (as opposed to a watch) if radar sees clouds even beginning to form
certain patterns, so it isn’t quite as dire…
Then the area tornado sirens went off. Once again, this generally only happens if
the status is ‘imminent threat’. I’ll admit that the combination of the
networked warnings and local siren scared the crap outta me – that ‘terror’
promised by the Huath blessing, I
might say. We had a barn full of friends and their kids. The only real shelter
choice if a funnel had marched in to that very meadow would have been the nice
new ditch now filling with water. After a moment’s pause to calm ourselves, and
a sky-watch that revealed no immediate threat we made the dash to our back
porch, where access to our basement would provide at least provisional shelter.
It also provided access to radar on TV and real-time local coverage, which
revealed that our neighborhood wasn’t in line for the 80+mph wind events that
were hitting a few areas, and that no funnels were in the air. We brought
everyone into the house and Thexalon (the retiring Champ) told a story to calm
and center the kids. Twenty minutes later the active warning was over, and
radar showed the storms moving out.
Despite
our terror (which, to our credit, never turned to panic) the worst that our
patch saw was heavy, straight-down, pounding rain, and lots of it. We might
say, in fact, that we were protected
from south to north, as our omen-reading suggested, as no damage was sustained.
However, it is plain that the new nemeton was not ready – the hard rain washed
away some of the support of the new eastern porch, causing a small section to
collapse. Plainly we were premature and Those watching over the process
schooled us to that effect. We will proceed, more deliberately.
I have
occasionally allowed myself to think I know what I’m doing in terms of such
things as establishing a new nemeton. Yeah, well…
However
it generally was a lovely weekend with tribal peace, revelry, cheerful striving
and bardic delight. The Spear of Lugh was over us in every sense, and may his
blessing be upon you all in this season, dear readers, if not quite so
literally.
5 comments:
It is absolutely delightful to watch the progress being made up at Tredara, Ian. The love you have for that land, and what your goals are there, is evident...especially with the videos I love to watch! So glad things ended up safely for all of you this week!
I felt honored to witness the might of the storm within the comforting environs of Tredara and the warmth of Stone Creed Grove. I could not have thought of a better place to be!! Hail Lugh!
I would read the omens as "It's not enough (Ceiet) what you did and offered; we will keep nurturing and sheltering you (Fearn) for the day when you must face and won terror (H-úath) ;-)
Blessings of Gods and no-Gods to you all /|\
See Ceirt is 'succor of the poor' - I see it as offering bounty when there is poverty.
To me, Úath is the bursting of the Tobar Seaghais. It is "terrifying", but transformative. Ceirt is, to me, more focused on the "shelter" than the "madman". My briatharoghaim for those are (Úath) "Maidhm trí thonn" ("Burst of three waves") and (Ceirt) "Neart anála" ("Strength of breath", with an intended implication of "spirit"). An alternate briatharoghaim of mine for Ceirt is "Foirceann luascadáin" ("Limit of a pendulum"), indicating a change of direction or fortune after a respite (yet another alternate I considered is "Casadh an rotha" = "Turn of the wheel", though I am slightly dissatisfied with that one).
Of course, I agree with pretty much everyone else on Fearn. My briatharogham for it is "Cró ime" ("Enclosure of butter").
Post a Comment