The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 260 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 4 trips to carry that many people.
Click here to see the complete report.
An Daghda, the All-Father that is the Sun has trysted with Boann, the Cow goddess that is the Land. He has performed his druidic feat of magic by forcing the Sun to stand still for one long day spanning the time of nine months. and their miracle love-child, the Renewed Year, Aengus is born. The light that renews the land renews our souls!
Such is the mystery of the winter solstice at Bru/ na Bo/inne, or Newgrange, in Ireland.
Blessings of the Grianstad be upon all souls and all of life!
The land is fresh from a dawn’s sprinkling. Dark clouds ride away on the western horizon as the Sun Spirit shines brightly in the southeast’s clearing blue sky, setting the dampened landscape a-sparkle. Crown, jays, and juncos flit about calling to each other, reveling in the newness of the day. I close my eyes while tipping my head up to the warmth, and chant praises to the Sun.
“Farewell and thanks, Spirits of Darkness, Mother of Night. Hail and welcome, Spirits of Day, Mother of Light. May you smile upon us this day. May we strive today for healing; may we be vessels of, and vehicles for healing in the world, in all ways in which it is needed. I pray that you might guide us and teach us, that we may heal our relationships with you and with all living things. May our actions and lifeways honor both our ancestors and our descendants. Moran taing, agus sla\inte mhath.”
A breeze gently plays in the fir branches; they sway softly against the inky black sky. The land sleeps in dark quiet while the trees give up their long, slow exhale into the night.
“Thanks and farewell, Spirit of Twilight. Hail and welcome, Spirits of Darkness, Mother of Night. Thank you for your gift of rest and renewal. May you hold us closely in your embrace. I pray that you teach us through our dreams how to find healing in our relationships with ourselves, and with you, that we may together activate and perpetuate healing within the world. May our ancestors guide us, and may we do them proud. Moran taing, agus sla\inte mhath.”
White Cloud Spirits veil the sky as the Sun Spirit’s light defuses through them. The ground is damp from Rain Spirit’s nighttime visit. Birds call all around me, and my rooster calls to the neighbor rooster over the fence. There is freshness and potential in the day, and we are off soon to cut and bring home our holiday tree.
“Farewell and thanks, Spirits of Darkness, Mother of Night. Hail and welcome, Spirits of Day, Mother of Light. May you smile upon us this day. I pray that you teach us how to heal, that we may together bring healing to our world, and heal our relationships with you, with each other, with all of life. Moran taing, agus sla\inte mhath.”
From http://druidnetwork.org/what-is-druidry/learning-resources/perennial/unit-twelve/ :
The yew is the tree associated with this moon; by whom and why? In the forest, it is a haze of darkness amidst the bare grey of the deciduous trees, as if calling us forward to feel its embrace. What other evergreens are there in your environment? How does their energy or ‘song’ differ from those who have lost their leaves?
What is the tree, plant or animal that speaks to you most at this time? Why is mistletoe connected with this time of year? What is the tradition of the fir tree brought inside, and what is the older tradition of your landscape and people?”
With the wind storms here lately, and the power going in and out, I have had opportunity to clearly hear the song of the evergreen. The primary evergreen here is the iconic Douglas Fir, featured on the flag of the region, Cascadia. Certainly the sound of the Doug Fir differs from the high-pitched swishing sound of win-disturbed deciduous leaves, which flap and and catch the wind on their broad, flat surfaces like small kites. The boughs of the Doug fir, by contrast, carry the weft of the wind through the branch, made up of tiny needles. So the voice of the Doug fir is a deep, resonant swooshing sound, a bass to the maple tree’s soprano. The leaves of the maple, the deciduous tree in my yard, are new every year, and seem to always have a youthful sound about them. The Doug fir, while it does grow new needles each spring, and shed older ones, seems to have more of an air of permanence about it, of old age, of wise elderhood. This may also be due to the fact that the Doug fir was here when we moved in while we planted the maple. Surely ancient oak trees would not carry such an age contrast in this sense. But when the strong wind moves through the Doug fir, I have the impression of deep roots of old age channeling the very voice of inner earth, one that stops me in my tracks and commands me to listen. The maple tree instead softly enchants, inviting me to listen to the songs of the air and sky. But the maple sleeps right now. Usually maple’s song overpowers Doug fir’s song, but not in midwinter. Now is when Doug fir’s voice takes prominence, and demands to be heard. There is power in this voice: eternity and steadfastness, with echoes resonating up from deep within the land.
Stillness watches as the sun shifts silently behind quiet clouds. Birds call faintly in the background while trees stand sentinel. The air feels fresh as the day awakens.
“Farewell and thanks, Spirits of Night, Mother of Darkness. Hail and Welcome, Spirits of Day, Mother of Light. May you smile upon us this day. I pray that you teach us how to heal, that we many together bring healing to the world while you shine. May we know enlightenment and illumination, that we may commune with Truth, and walk with Honor. May we make beauty with our every step. Moran taing, agus sla\inte mhath.”