Mars, Venus, Orcus,Troy and Kiev: messages from the deep for 2022 (II)

The key unfolding astrological dramas of February 2022, and beyond into March, are the conjunctions between Mars and Venus in Capricorn, then Aquarius, all mixed in with Pluto and its much spoken about return. In simple terms, every time the goddess of love and the only female gendered planet in the solar system, and the fiery masculine god of war square up, we are bound to feel it not just in our relationships, but in all aspects of polarity. This opposition is playing out on the world stage in the Ukraine, where the east/west stand-off has now tragically erupted into war. To continue with the exploration of the motifs in the Odyssey (see ‘The Journey of Odysseus: messages from the deep for 2022’) and using it as a lens through which to view present events, the best analogy to today is the besieging of Troy and destruction of the surrounding countryside by Menelaus of Sparta and his Greek allies (including Odysseus) in what became known as the Trojan War. To weave in the mythology with the astrology, the Trojan War (Mars) was catalysed by the actions of Venus/Aphrodite, whose granting of Helen of Sparta to the prince of Troy was the spark that lit the conflagration. The edges of this current Venus/Mars conjunction are hard, and this clash of opposites is sadly being felt in a very real way by the people of Ukraine. However, the unfolding astrology thankfully holds the promise of softening in the form of Jupiter and Neptune in Pisces, and the opportunity for transformation though the involvement of both Pluto and the centaur Nessus on both personal and collective levels.

Venus and Mars have been dancing around in Capricorn since last year, occasionally coming into contact with Pluto, which itself has been transiting Capricorn since 2009. This transit has been the major signature of our times, the astrological impetuous to reveal all that is corrupt and no longer serving us. Over the course of 15 years of Pluto in Capricorn, every aspect of polarity has been explored and inequalities exposed through the lenses of gender relationships, black lives and white privilege, the poverty of many versus the wealth of the few (‘Plutocracy’), so much so that the world outlook has changed beyond all recognition. This powerful transit is now slowly coming to an end, but not before one final denouement – what is being called America’s Pluto Return. On February 20^th, Pluto returned to the same place in the sky where it was on July 4^th 1776 when the Declaration of Independence was signed, offering the US an opportunity to dive deep into its soul as the year, and the return, continue to unfold.

The first hard edge conjunction between Venus and Mars took place on 16^th February 2022, at a time of heightened tension between Russia and the West over (eastern) Ukraine. The situation is politically complex and beyond the scope of this post, but in energetic terms, the Ukraine is highly significant as its capital, Kiev, is located on what arguably should be the Prime Meridian. The so-called Nilotic Meridian stretches from South Africa up to the Arctic Circle covering the longest landmass of the planet, and is peppered with many sacred and resonant sites usually involving lions. Kiev is therefore both physically and energetically an omphalos, or navel point, and therefore the perfect energetic nexus for polarity on every level. Symbolically, it could be seen as the present-day equivalent to Homer’s Troy, with both cities acting as magnets for conflict in antiquity and today.

Geopolitically, the conflict in (eastern) Ukraine could be view as the latest in a long term stand-off between East and West. The dance between Mars and Venus is mirroring this opposition, inviting us to draw back the veil and look deeply at our relationships on every level, both personal and collective, human and non-human, and to continue to evaluate that which is important, to winnow out that needs cherishing from that which is to be released. Though the pandemic seems finally to be loosening its grip, we are still collectively being held in the balance, suspended between worlds both geopolitically and psychologically, while we take the time for the necessary introspection and integration of all that it brought forward.

The Earth itself has been restless over the last few weeks, blowing some of the strongest winds on record through the UK and beyond. Just before Valentine’s Day, when the winds swept though and when Venus and Mars also began their opposition, a more subtle and deeper opposition took place between two transpersonal minor planets – the Centaur Nessus and the TNO Orcus. Nessus is also involved in the unfolding of the Mars/Venus conjunctions into next month, warranting a deeper look at this intriguing astrological alignment.

Orcus is a minor planet that crosses the orbit of Neptune (TNO) and was only discovered in 2004. This creature from the depths has an orbit the mirror image of Pluto’s and is therefore perceived as a co-ruler of the Underworld. In Greek mythology, the name is evocative of Horkos, the daimon of oaths, presumably the inspiration for the horcruxes in the Harry Potter series, magical objects capable of holding fragments of the soul. This dwarf planet has a highly transpersonal resonance, bringing up from the deep some of the most hidden aspects of our being, that which is both bound and broken by oaths and curses. Melanie Reinhart[1] describes Orcus as a healer and protector of the matrilineal line, bringing forth an ecological resonance, for be in service to the female is to be in service to the Earth herself. For example, during the 2010 Gulf of Mexico Oil Spill and Icelandic volcanic eruption, Orcus was involved in a series of oppositions with Chiron that perfectly mirrored the unfolding of the ecological catastrophe. Due to the highly elliptical orbit of both these bodies, it should be emphasised that these oppositions are rare – truly a gift from the Underworld.

Oppositions between Nessus and Orcus are more frequent than those between Chiron and Orcus, so it is only really by looking at the broader astrological context that we can flesh out meaning. The mythology of Nessus takes us more deeply into the symbolism of the Venus/Mars opposition we are experiencing by casting a different light on the gender relationships. In Greek mythology, Nessus was the Centaur who indirectly brought about the death of the hero Hercules by using his wife Deinira as an unwitting instrument. As he lays dying, fatally wounded by Hercules in retaliation for an attempted rape of his wife, and Nessus gives Deianira a love potion made from his bodily fluids saying that it will keep Hercules faithful to her. Some years later, fed up with her husband’s infidelity, she surreptitiously smears it on his signature lionskin shirt – but instead of inducing love for her, the potion brings on a terrible affliction that scalds and burns his flesh. Driven mad with agony, Hercules rips off his own skin and eventually throws himself on a funeral pyre to escape the pain. The combination of Nessus and Orcus points to the ending/release from a collective and very ancient curse and this has great pertinence for our relationships, both human and ecological, and for the current geopolitical polarities playing out on the world stage. The power for transformation and release is enhanced by the dance between Mars and Venus, especially as they will both conjunct Pluto, lord of the underworld, before moving into Aquarius. Now is the time to add all the grief, grievance and pain caused by betrayal, corruption and inequity into the alchemical mix, to allow it to dissolve and distil into potent medicine for the emerging new vision.

Wind is a major theme in the Odyssey, no doubt because the prevailing winds around the Aegean are both powerful and perilous, and winds were the cause of the lowest and most dangerous point on the hero’s twenty-year journey. It was the south wind blowing without pause that sent his ship back to the treacherous clutches of Scylla and Charybdis. Here calamity struck, dashing the last of his men on the rocks and smashing his only surviving ship to pieces. Odysseus himself only survives the maelstrom by tying himself to the remains of the ship’s mast. Stripped bare, grief stricken and alone, the hero is then left to drift for nine days in a state of limbo – akin to our current collective situation. Unable to move forward, we too are being forced to descend to the watery underworld of the collective subconscious, to dive deep and retrieve the treasures that await us, and which will eventually propel us forward.

So, for now, we leave Odysseus drifting at sea alone and bereft, stripped down to his soul and unaware of what the future might hold. As the year progresses, the hard edges of the conjunction will be gradually softened to allow the dissolving of tension that our desperate clinging onto the past (Capricorn) is causing. But the wheels of the heaven will keep turning, moving both Venus and Mars into Aquarius for the next stage of their dance. Significantly, this will take place in the first degree of Aquarius, the same degree of the Jupiter-Saturn conjunction of the December Solstice of 2020, beginning the twenty year cycle that is also the signature of the story of Odysseus.

[1] See www.melaniereinhart.com for her article on Orcus

Picture credit: ‘Deianira’ by Evelyn De Morgan

The Journey of Odysseus: messages from the deep for 2022

The astrology of 2022 holds the tantalising promise of the birthing of that dream that has been slowly taking form during months of relentless oppositions in 2021, both astrologically and literally. Whilst researching the main celestial events of the year, I was struck by how archetypal astrologer Vanessa Couto used the story of Penelope, wife of Odysseus from the Greek epic, to explore meaning in them.[1] After all, astrology is one of the ways we can begin to understand cosmic order, to see the bigger picture of which we are just one minor part, and when combined with mythology, the stories that arise from the collective unconscious, we can really start to attune to the whispers of the World Soul and hear them more clearly and coherently. Having recently read the Odyssey (a lockdown project!) the idea of exploring the unfolding astrology of the year and its resonance with global events, then seeing them through the lens of the mythological adventures of Odysseus began to grow on me. But why the Odyssey and why now?

The Odyssey is the second work of Western literature, which along with the Illiad, tells the epic story of bronze age heroes, kings and their wives preserved in the oral tradition of the Aegean but collected and written down by Homer in around the eight century BCE. These tales of love, loss and passion, framed around the events of the Trojan War, still hold us in thrall today for they are archetypal stories, masterfully told. Penelope is just one of the vivid female characters brought to life by Homer, but there are many others including Helen of Troy herself, Circe and Calpyso, all of whom were famed throughout the ancient world, holding in their stories a piece of our collective past.

The epic is focussed round the story of Odysseus, king of Ithaca, who participates in the Trojan War and then is beset by many adventures on his return. In fact, he is away from Ithaca for 20 years, which as Vanessa points out, is the timespan between significant conjunctions of Saturn and Jupiter,[2] the masters of time and rulers of the ages. These conjunctions have been considered as auspicious from ancient times at least, and the key themes and dangers associated with them have been preserved in the myth of Uranus and Saturn, as told by Hesiod. We saw one of these conjunctions at the Winter Solstice of 2020, which was also in the first degree of Aquarius – one of the signs of the dawning of the Great Age. Why it took Odysseus 10 years to journey from Troy to Ithaca, a distance as the crow flies of approximately 1000 km, was impossible to say, but nobody other than Vanessa, as far as I know, have matched the timespan of his absence with the epoch marked by a Saturn/Jupiter conjunction.

The present epoch making cycle began then around 2020 – 2021, and it was in 2020 that an exhibition of Troy took place at the British Museum, vividly bringing the Homeric stories to life with artefacts of the times and paintings depicting the characters and their passions. The Trojan War, which Odysseus was eventually dragged into, famously begins with the Judgement of Paris, Prince of Troy. He was asked to decide which of the goddesses Athena, Aphrodite or Hera was the most beautiful, and though all of them tried to bribe him in various ways, it was the offer by Aphrodite of Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world, that swung Paris’ decision in her favour. The subsequent abduction of Helen, for she was already married to Menelaus of Sparta, is what sparked the Trojan War. But actually it did not begin here – it began with Eris, the goddess of discord.

In the version told by Homer, Eris was the daughter of Zeus and Hera, but known for her troublemaking ways, she alone of all the gods was not invited to the wedding of an important couple called Peleus and Thetis. Snubbed but not disheartened, she arrives at the wedding party and tosses an apple into the revellers inscribed with the words ‘To the Fairest One.’ The dispute that immediately broke out between Aphrodite, Hera and Athena, all of whom laid claim to the apple, and as mentioned above, it was Paris who was chosen to settle it. The ensuing war lasted 10 years and resulted in the destruction of Troy, so Eris certainly achieved her desired aim.

In 2005 a dwarf planet from the Kuiper Belt was given her name Eris, and during 2020 and 2021, this dwarf planet made a series of meaningful conjunctions with Pluto, Lord of the Underworld, bringing up from the deep all that is disharmonious and buried in our collective unconscious. These conjunctions occurred alongside a series of oppositions between Saturn and Uranus in 2021, the relentless grinding together of giants, mirrored below in lockdowns, the clashing of polarised views on how we should collectively deal with pandemic, and a host of other issues. Eris and Pluto have not yet finished their dance, so it will be interesting to see what else they bring up from the deep this year, and in what other way this resonates with the journey of Odysseus.

But now to the astrology of January 2022 to see if the Odyssey is helping us to hear the voice of the World Soul this year. In December, Jupiter moved into the watery realm of Pisces, where it will slowly move towards Neptune (already there and happy in its home sign) in a conjunction that promises the birth of a new way in April. However, though the birth pangs have started, the process of bringing something new into being takes time and can be both painful and difficult. To the Greeks, Poseidon was the god of the sea, and in the Odyssey, he has a particularly antagonistic role to play, constantly thwarting the hero’s return journey with his storms. In revenge for blinding his son, Polyphemus the Cyclops, Poseidon, also known as the great Earthshaker[3] sent particularly large waves and turbid seas to dog Odysseus’ voyage, eventually leaving him shipwrecked and alone on the island of the Phaeacians.

We too have been reminded of the awesome and unpredictable power of the sea, for on Saturday 14^th January 2022, the great Earthshaker struck again when the eruption of Hunga Tonga-Hunga Ha’api sent a plume of debris up to 20 km into the sky, burying the northern part of Tonga’s main island under ash and triggering a tsunami that reached the shores of New Zealand, Australia and Japan. According to Nasa, the eruption was hundreds of times more powerful than the atomic bomb, obliterating a entire island in the north of Tonga and affecting more than four-fifths of the population with falling debris. [4] Volcanic eruptions, especially ones that occur in or very near to a subduction zone, such as this one, are not unusual, but still when the World Soul speaks, we do well to listen.

The Tongan islands exist as a result of plate tectonics and the volcanic lava produced through subduction zone processes, and new islands have been formed as recently as 2015 by profusive eruptions. Soil enriched by volcanic minerals have allowed agriculture to flourish on these remote paradise islands, which are also protected by off-shore barrier reefs, allowing human inhabitation to take root. However, humans have tried to dominate and control the natural environment in time honoured fashion, and overfishing, deforestation and damage to coral reefs have ensued, as well as a tragic decline in sea turtle populations due to over hunting.

Like Odysseus we have been reminded to respect the sea, and the fiery land, and all that they bring and take away. The themes of deep emotion, sensitivity, hope, psychic connection and dreaming are carried through Pisces, the river of the zodiac, and amplified by Neptune currently in this sign, but also delusion, sacrifice, and deceit. As the unprocessed emotions erupt from the depths, propelled by the fire of the spirit, they threaten to overwhelm and subsume us if we do not pay attention to both emotional and psychic hygiene on the inner planes, and to the proper care and custodianship of our environment on the outer. Odysseus paid the price for his own actions, for it was his greed and deceit in the cave of Polyphemus that led to him wounding the Cyclops and provoking the wrath of Poseidon. We too do well to heed the voices coming from the deep, carried on the foam of the oceans and the regularity of the standing waves. It remains to be seen how the theme of Odysseus and his wonderings will add more meaning to the voice of the World Soul as expressed through astrology and world events as they unfold throughout the year. Let’s see what next month brings!

[1] See Vanessa Couto, ‘At Penelope’s Loom: Astrology of 2022,’ available at http://www.vanessacouto.com

[2] As above

[3] Homer, ‘The Odyssey,’ translated by E. V. Rieu and puplished by Penguin Book ( p. 123)

[4] ‘Tonga volcano: eruption more powerful than atomic bomb, says Nasa,’ BBC News 25.1.2022, available at bbc.co.uk

Five hundred million years of British history in 12 pictures

Not just backdrops, spectacular rocks! Examples of all the geological ages of Earth can be found in the British Isles. Usually seen at their most spectacular on the coast where weathering and water have both shaped and preserved vast sedimentary and tectonic processes, these images (mainly) from Southern England and Wales capture just a small flavour of the immense grandeur of our Planet. Each grain and fold tells a story that can be read like a book, and is alive on time scales that we find difficult to comprehend but is nevertheless dynamic and fully interactive with other life on Earth. This series of pictures moves through the entire Phanerozoic era (‘visible life’), starting around 542 million years ago.

All pictures taken by author.

The Michael Mary Line Part 4: White Horses and Dragons

A few years ago, we journeyed along the Michael/Mary line beginning in Ogbourne St George, Wiltshire, and headed west to Dartmoor. Sometime later, we returned to the Wessex Downs but this time coming in from the opposite direction (Caln, in the west). As soon as we entered the chalk scarp, we were struck by the huge telluric, geological currents surging through the porous rock, pushing up gentle hillocks and forming combes that looked like nodes in the land. Green fuzz now covers the chalk, which is therefore no longer visible – unless a white horse has been carved in it, that is.

Alton Barnes White Horse (credit Wikipedia)

White horses and hill forts abound in these vales demonstrating how important they once were to the people who loved and lived in them. The White Horse of Alton Barnes gracing the side of Milk Hill is visible from the A4, itself looking out towards the famous White Horse of Pewsey, where a new white horse replaces an older and now faded older version. A gentle walk along the top of the Wansdyke brings the relief of the land into clear focus, and places the white horses firmly in the context of the a broader landscape that undulates across to the Mendips and Cotswolds far into the distance. The Wansdyke itself is an intriguing feature and was probably built by the ancient Britons to keep the Saxon invaders out in a time of invasion and flux.

We continued north passed Windmill Hill and joined up with the Ridgeway. Part of a massive chalk escarpment some four hundred miles long and extending from Dorset to East Anglia, the section between the Sanctuary and the Ivinghoe Beacon in Berkshire is the most famous uninterrupted national walking trail in the country. It is along this pathway that the great dragon energies emerge from the chalk as telluric currents and intermingle with the more precise energies of the Michael/Mary line that we had been dowsing since Dartmoor. Iron Age hill forts, often built over more ancient Neolithic causewayed enclosures, become a stronger feature of the landscape, holding these powerful energies in a way that churches are unable to.

It was exciting and exhilarating to feel the energies swirling through Barbary castle with its three rings and ditch enclosures. Circling and dancing like a coiled snake, the earthworks contained and amplified the energies in an honouring and respectful way. This joyful dance continued along the Ridgeway to Liddington Camp, one of the earliest of the hill forts and dating back to the Late Bronze Age (around 700 BCE). These ‘forts’ were primarily used as places were clans met and feasted, traded goods and worshipped, though some defensive function is also not excluded. Therefore the term ‘fort’ does not do them justice, and neither does the medieval word ‘castle’ that implies a form of conquer and control that was not present in the minds of the people who created these structures.

In the centre of the Liddington earthworks, the energy was particularly intense and demanded some form of acknowledgement. Later, further research revealed the existence of a ritual shaft, used by the ancient Britons who occupied this site to ritually connect more deeply with the land, and harness the protective and abundant energies in a mutually honouring way.

The Ridgeway continues northeast, and is cut across brutally by the M4 motorway, contrasting strongly with the respectful energies we had felt previously. Now we were in Oxfordshire but the underlying chalk knew no such boundaries and the great dragon currents surged towards the most famous vale of all – the Vale of the White Horse. According to Miller and Broadhurst, [1]the Mary current sweeps round the nexus point containing some of the most important sites in the country – The White Horse, Ufffington Castle, Dragon Hill and Wayland’s Smithy – and is anchored at the church of St Mary in Uffington. It is also just north of this area that the Belinus line crosses over the Michael/Mary line, forming a major omphalos (more on this to come). We went into this centre to explore the energies in more detail.

Just beneath Fox Hill, the Ridgeway now passes through one of the earliest Neolithic long barrows in Britain – Wayland’s Smithy. Set in a secluded grove ringed by trees, a stone burial chambers covered by a huge earth mound are surrounded by an enclosure of sarsen stones. Built during the Neolithic by the mysterious early agriculturalists in two stages, an earlier timber barrow could date back as early as 3590 BC.[2]

The Saxons were probably the first to link the Germanic smith-god Wayland with this site, a rather ambivalent mythological figure who emerges, often in an unfavourable light, in a range of contexts from the Icelandic Eddas to the exquisitely carved Frank’s Casket, where he is depicted holding a severed head with the aid of tongs in one hand and a goblet in the other. Though the myth has him slaying a king’s son and cutting off his head, plying the same king’s daughter with wine and raping her, he is also associated with making wings from birds feathers that enable him to fly. This could account for why he appears in a variety of places plying his trade of smith, possibly linking this site (mythically at the least) with an early phase of metallurgy in pre-history. In more favourable contexts, Wayland is associated with forging magical swords and also the mail shirt worn by Beowolf in the epic poem of the same name. [3]

White Horse of Uffington (credit Wikipedia)

The White Horse itself is situated on the upper slopes of White Horse Hill, a distinctive undulating steep-sided valley formed by the interplay of land with the repeated freeze-thaw cycles of the last Ice Age. It can only really be appreciated from above or at a distance to see its full extent, emphasising its role as a beacon or orientation point in a sacred landscape. The White Horse itself has been dated to the late Bronze Age (1380 – 550 BC) as has the (once again misnamed) Uffington castle on top of the hill, a huge square structure surrounded by earthworks. Not much of the original remains but to walk the parameters of the site gives some feel of its scope and scale. As the highest place for miles around, it would have had great ritual (and therefore economic) importance for the ancient Britons who inhabited the area.

The energies are still palpable in the earthworks but do not have the joyful innocent quality that we had felt previously. These ancient walkways were fed by pilgrims and travellers that kept the energy flowing between nodal points, often represented by barrows and mounds, through a mutual honouring between land and walker. When this is no present, the flow and therefore the energies recede into the background, or indeed stagnate, waiting patiently to be acknowledged and activated once again at some future time.

The White Horse itself is no longer accessible and when standing in the physical landscape, it is hard to see the horse at all. Indeed, it is now Dragon Hill, a small chalk hill with artificially flattened top siting sitting just below the White Horse, that draws the visitor in both visually and energetically. A large chalk circle marks the eye, said to be the spot where St George killed the dragon, the blood preventing grass from growing on its summit. As ever the myth of dragon slaying going hand in hand with the presence of huge telluric landscape currents, which is one of the reasons that these energies are called dragon energies.

It is significant that both the dragon and horse are present in this landscape. There are many theories as to the meaning of the White Horse. Some see it as a solar horse, whose origins stretch back into the deep past of an Indo-European mythology that perceived the sun carried across the sky by a horse or chariot. [4] Archaeo-astronomical investigations have suggested a link between the horse and the midwinter sun, others discern a connection between the landscape and the constellation of Draco, all of which warrants further investigation.

There are other land based alternatives. To the Celtic and the ancient Britons, the white horse was the ultimate symbol of Sovereignty, who was both the goddess of the land and the land itself. She bestowed kingship in exchange for protection and when this was honoured, the land was fertile and all life forms were happy. The Brythonic Sovereignty goddesses Rhiannon is closely associated with the white horse, as are the Celtic goddesses Aine and Maeve.

At this place of great power, we can stand and reconnect with this aspect of the land, take back our own Sovereignty and empowerment and come back into harmony with the energies of the Earth herself, and therefore with the energies of the wider cosmos. That the horse still holds energetic sway here is reflected by the land in the numerous horse racing stables that cluster at the foot of Lambourne Down, serving as training grounds for hundreds of race horses that still gallop through the Vale to this day.

[1] Broadhurst and Miller, (1998) ‘The Sun and the Serpent’

[2] ‘Wayland’s Smithy’ available at http://www.en.m.wikipedia.org

[3] As above

[4] Pollard, J. (2017). ‘The Uffington White Horse geoglyph as sun-horse.’ Antiquity. 91. (326): 406 – 420 (Accessed 10.4.21)

Ragnarok: When one world ends and another begins

We are living in times of great upheaval where the pandemic has triggered the breakdown of our world as we knew it. Daily events can be described as ‘apocalyptic’ in the true sense of the world, for apocalypse literally means the disclosure or revelation of knowledge. In all areas of life from the political, institutional, social, spiritual, economic and ecological, corruption and inequality are coming to the surface, highlighting the flawed premise of separation on which our world view is based. We are drowning in lies and misinformation that fuel the fires of delusion and deception, but in these uncertain times, one thing is certain. Things are changing and the only choice we have is to embrace the chaos and begin to pick out of the wreckage the pieces worth saving and bring them with us into a new world of our making.

This is not the first time that humans have lived through apocalyptic times and our mythologies are replete with stories of breakdown, and breakthrough, that can serve as valuable navigational tools. None is more pertinent for our current situation than the Norse tale of Ragnarok, the Twilight of the Gods, originally told in an Icelandic poem dating back to the late tenth century. Just substitute certain humans into the role of the gods and the parallels are obvious, though the final interpretation will depend on your own viewpoint and perspective.

The word Ragnarok means ‘fatal destiny’, implying that the process of breakdown, though excruciating and often deadly, is also inevitable. The golden age of peace would have lasted if only the gods had kept their passions under control! But they could not. The world order, kept in place by oaths sworn in the presence of the powers of the earth herself, had been disregarded and abused. The gods of the Aesir had tortured the envoy from the Vanir (elder gods) in order to extract her gold, they broke their promise to the giants who had built their celestial dwelling, tricking them out of what they owed. Once they greedily broke their sacred promises, the fabric of their world began to unravel, ushering in an era of perjury, violence and warfare.

The Twilight of the Gods however, was long since predicted, for it was known that one day the giants and all those who had been banished to the subterranean regions would rise and overthrow the established order. Heimdall had been appointed to stand guard day and night by the rainbow bridge at the entrance to Asgard (the dwelling place of the gods). The giant wolf, Fenrir, had been bound in chains to stop him bringing about destruction and war, but the fateful day could only be put off, not averted for good.

Inevitably, it was a combination of factors that brought about Ragnarὄk, but of course the archetype of Trickster had to play a major role. Trickster is he who uses misinformation, manipulation, lies and tricks for his own end, but in so doing hold up to the mirror to us all and reveals those places where the shadow has taken control. In Norse mythology it is Loki who plays this part, and because of his own weakness and need to be everyone’s favourite, he committed a heinous crime.

Balder was the favourite of the gods, the son of Odin and Frigg, and was full of light and radiance. His mother loved him so much that she made everything on earth swear an oath never to harm her beautiful son. But his invincibility and popularity aroused the jealousy of Trickster, and Loki conspired not only to kill Balder but to ensure that the gods did not manage to bring him back from the Underworld through their otherworldly powers. His role in the death of their favourite was discovered and the gods bound him in chains, but this only strengthened his hatred and resolve. Though it would inevitably also bring about his own destruction, he broke his chains and joined the side of the demons and giants who hated the gods of the Aesir and were their sworn enemies.

Meanwhile, the situation on middle earth continued to deteriorate. An ancient giantess birthed a whole host of wolves, one of which chased the sun and swallowed it, bringing on hideous winters, storms, famine, pestilence and warfare. Brother slew brother, children no longer respected the ties of blood. Finally, the wolf Fenrir broke free of his chains, making the whole earth tremble and shaking the World Tree Yggdrasil from its roots to its topmost branches. Mountains crumbled and split and the entrances to the subterranean world of the dwarfs was cut off for good. The serpent Midgard stirred up giant waves from the depths of the oceans and the giants, roused from their place of banishment, arrived in ships from the north and the south. There was no turning back, for the shadow had been unleashed on a world that had long since sought to bury it. Heimdall sounded his horn signalling the beginning of Ragnarὄk, summoning the gods to meet with the armies of the giants on a field near Valhalla. It was to be a battle to the death.

In the midst of the fray was the god Odin with his golden helmet and holding his magical spear, Gungnir. He flew round the field like a hurricane, accompanied by the Valkyries on their dazzling chargers, and made for the wolf Fenrir with his sword raised. Alas, the wolf opened his massive jaws and swallowed the father of the gods! One by one they fell – Thor, Heimdall, Tyr, even Loki, all perished on the battlefield that day. Now that mankind had no protectors, they were driven from their hearths and swept off the face of the earth. Easily, just like that.

Then even the earth began to lose shape. Stars came adrift from the sky and fell into the void. Flames spurted from the fissures of rocks and there was the hissing of steam. All living things including plants were blotted out and the waters rose and boiled, covering over the earth and all traces of the place of the final battle. The world had ended. Ragnarὄk had played itself out.

But, gradually, in the midst of chaos and destruction came renewal. The world began to birth itself afresh and solid land emerged from the waves. Mountains rose up and the waters came under control, forming waterfalls and fountains and fertilising barren land so that the fecund green mantle gradually returned. Crops grew, and some animals returned, even a new sun appeared. And with it a new generation of gods. These gods had already been in existence but never shared in the passion and quarrels of the old gods, not committing perjury or violence or other crimes, and the radiant Balder was reborn. Hoenir, Odin’s faithful companion also survived, and he studied the runes and read the secrets of the future.

A small number of humans started to reappear. They had taken shelter in the branches of Yggdrasil, which the conflagration had been unable to consume. Throughout the apocalypse and days of destruction their only food had been the morning dew, the dew from the leaves of Yggdrasil that had once filled the valley with the memory of yesterday. This precious dew was collected by the Norn called Urd, one of the three sisters who tended the World Tree and wove the web of destiny that controlled life itself. In a daily ritual, she carefully poured the precious dew into her well, the Well of Memory, so that it may be used to grow the flowers of the present and assist them to reach out to the future.

If we carefully tend the World Tree and it’s well, taking nourishment from them both, then we too will return after the chaos has subsided. This time we might bring with us a host of new gods that are both within us and without, both imminent and woven into the fabric of the universe itself. Who do not commit perjury or wage warfare or other crimes, but listen to and uphold the rights of the earth, and in doing serve all life forms, both human and other than human.

References: The Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology

Images: ‘Then the awful fight began’ by George Wright

‘Heimdall an der Himmelsbrucke’ by unknown

‘Loki’ by Arthur Rackham

December Long Nights Moon: Arianrhod of the Silver Wheel

Arianrhod of the Silver Wheel is one of the most enigmatic of all the Celtic Welsh goddesses, but as Virgin Mother of the Sacred Child and full moon goddess, her story is the perfect one to end the year. Only fragments of this once mighty goddess survive today, but nevertheless she is named as the ‘silver circled daughter of Don and Beli Mawr’ in the Welsh Triads, the primal mother and father gods of the Welsh pantheon, and therefore a first-generation goddess in her own right. Her dwelling place, the Caer Arianrhod was in the magical realm of the north, the Caer Sidi, the land of the dead where souls resided between incarnations. Arianrhod was said to gather the souls of warriors who had fallen in battle and transport them to a realm in the Caer Sidi called Emania, or Moonland,[1] and this has led to her association as a moon goddess.

Arianrhod features in the fourth branch of the Mabinogion, where her story is told through the lens of medieval patriarchal Welsh society played out through her uncle and brothers. The story centres round Math Son of Mathonwy, lord of Gwynedd, who when not in battle, had to rest with his feet in the lap of a virgin. Goewin, the fairest maiden of her time, was the one chosen to play this role, but when she is tragically raped by one of Math’s men, she no longer able to fulfil it. There is much more than meets the eye behind this ancient story, but suffice to say for now, Gwydion, the brother of Arianrhod suggests that his sister might like to take over the job. Presumably seeking a marriage alliance with the king, he journeys to Arianrhod’s castle and persuades her to return to court with him.

Virgin goddesses were common in antiquity and were whole unto themselves, not needing a man for either sexual reproduction or validation. However, by medieval times the concept of virginity had taken on a completely different meaning and was perceived not only in terms of chastity, but as something controlled by men. Therefore, upon her arrival at court, Arianrhod is forced to give proof of her virginity, which she does by stepping over a magical rod held out by Math. Again, the symbolism and deeper meaning behind this act warrants further investigation, but sticking to the story for now, we are told that as she steps over the rod, Arianrhod gives birth to twins. One of these boys is named Dylan, and he flees to the sea and swims away, and the other is scooped up by Gwydion and hidden in a chest. In this way, Arianrhod has fulfilled her role as Virgin mother of sacred twins, but in this medieval version, she is shamed for not being chaste and flees the court in disgrace.

Gwydion now takes over custody of the magical child, who he brings to a wet nurse to wean. He grows rapidly, and when he is eight years old, Gwydion journeys with his nephew to the palace of his mother. Arianrhod, still bitter about her humiliation, lays a tynged on her son, translated as taboo or curse: he shall have no name, unless she gives it to him. In due course, Gwydion disguises the boy as a shoemaker, and they return to Arianrhod’s court to fit her with shoes. She sees the boy killing a wren with a single stone, for Robert Graves symbolic of the new god/king killing the old, and she names him Llew Llaw Gyffes (the fair haired one with the single hand), showing that he has now come of age as sacred child, possibly a sun-hero.[2]

When Gwydion reveals the deception, Arianrhod lays another taboo on him: he will never take arms unless she arms him. Several years later, the uncle nephew pair once again visit her, this time disguised as bards, and after entertaining the court, Gwydion conjures up magical warships to make Arianrhod think they are under attack. Thereupon she is tricked into providing weapons and armour for her son, thus voiding her second curse. She now declares her final taboo: that he will never have a wife from any race that is now upon the Earth.

Arianrhod is often portrayed as a pentulent and spiteful mother who tries to deprive her son of his manhood by withholding his name, preventing him from taking arms, and from taking a wife. However, when we understand that Arianrhod was acting within her rights as not only his mother but as matriarch of the tribe, her actions can be seen in a different light. In this context, it is the uncle and brother who are the usurpers by seeking to withhold and deny her natural rites, which they do by trickery and deception.

Nevertheless, the story continues. Gwydion is undaunted by this final taboo, and together with Math, magically creates from the flowers of oak, broom, and meadow sweet, the fairest and most beautiful maiden anyone ever saw, and they named her Blodeuwedd. She is duly wed to their nephew, but this story does not end happily (see of Flower Brides and Green Men above). In brief, Blodeuwedd takes a lover and with him conspires to kill her husband, who is transformed into an eagle as the blow is struck, then brought back to life again by his uncles, who now transform Blodeuwedd into an owl as punishment,’ for the owl was perceived as an evil creature of the night, despised and persecuted by other birds.’ [3]

As for Arianrhod, humiliated and defeated she is said to spend the rest of her days at her palace, Caer Arianrhod, until one day the sea claimed her realm, dragging it down beneath the waves. Today, her earthly island palace can still be glimpsed off the coast of Gwynedd near Llandwrog, where at low tide, an oval shaped reef remains in the shallows.[4]

Though the earthly aspect of the goddess may have had her time, she has been immortalised in the night sky. Her palace in the far north in the rotating realm of the Caer Sidi is linked to the circumpolar realm of the immortals, forever revolving round a central pole star. Arianrhod herself is etymologically linked to the Corona Borealis, for Caer Arianrhod is the Welsh term for the constellation. This could then be the place where the souls of the dead withdraw to between incarnations. It has also been suggested that the Caer Gwydion has links to the Milky Way and the Lys Don, or Court of Don could refer to constellation of Cassiopeia, demonstrating that a sophisticated cosmology could be at the heart of these stories. [5]

And as above, so below, for while the cosmos offers a celestial aspect to the journey of the soul, the story also portrays the natural cycles of life and death down here on Earth. To Robert Graves, Arianrhod is an incarnation of the White Goddess, or Goddess of Life-in-Death and Death-in-Life who gives birth to the Sacred Child, and who, after dispatching his rival, himself becomes the Sun hero. She then adopts the form of Blodeuwedd, the love goddess who as is customary, destroys her lover, and is herself transformed into the Owl of Wisdom, feeding on his flesh, while his soul is transformed into that of an eagle and lives on.[6] In this way, Arianrhod is truly an aspect of the wheel of karma and reincarnation, of which her Silver Wheel could also be a metaphor, forever weaving and spinning the web of life, death and rebirth.

[1] ‘Arianrhod, Celtic Star Goddess, by Judith Shaw, available at www.feminismandreligion.com

[2] ‘The White Goddess’ by Robert Graves, see p. 94

[3] ‘The Mabinogi and Other Medieval Welsh Tales’ edited and translated by Patrick K. Ford, 2019

[4] See Mystical Places of North Wales, available at www.northwalesholidaycottages.co.uk for more details

[5] See ‘Caer Gwydion’ by Mabinogion Astronomy, available at www.mabinigionastronomy.blogspot.com

[6] ‘The White Goddess’ by Robert Graves, see p. 94

Winter Solstice: The World Tree, Saturn and the Sacred Child

Finally after weeks of gathering darkness, the turning point has arrived. For millennia humans have honoured this pivotal event and even constructed monumental architecture, such as the passage tombs at Newgrange in the Boyne Valley and Abu Simbel in Egypt, to celebrate the first rays of the returning sun at the Winter Solstice. And just as in Nature the sun is reborn at the Solstice, so it is in mythology around the world that the Virgin gives birth to a sacred son. Mithra was born in a cave of a Virgin in Persia: in Welsh tradition, Rhiannon gave birth to Pryderi; in Egypt, Isis to Horus and in Christian tradition, Mary to Jesus. In Ancient Greece, the festival of the Wild Women was held at Winter Solstice, when the death and rebirth of the harvest god Dionysus was dramatised

Inevitably, according to cosmic law, rebirth must be accompanied by sacrifice, or the offering of a sacred gift. This balancing of the cosmic scales has often been depicted in myth and legend by the usurping of the father by the son: the old king, Saturn, or Father Time, is overthrown by the new king Jupiter/Zeus, ruler of the ages. Going back further still, Saturn also overthrew his father, Uranus, first a revolutionary then a despot who banished his children to the Underworld. So Saturn conspired with his mother Gaia against his father, castrating him and taking over the governance of the world, an event celebrated at the Winter Solstice in Rome through a week-long celebration called the Saturnalia

In cosmic terms, it is the dance of opposition and conjunctions between the outer visible planets that mirrored above what was going on below, and the most auspicious of these were the great conjunctions between Saturn (ruler of time) and Jupiter (ruler of the ages). Many researchers have pointed out that there was such a conjunction in 7 BCE, and this could have been the famed Star of Bethlehem followed by the wise men to the cave in where Jesus lay.

Our own century was also ushered in with such a great conjunction in May 2000. Nine years later, in 2009, Saturn and Uranus then made a series of powerful oppositions symbolising the clash of visionary idealism and the crystallisation of visions into solid structures and forms. This was followed by the Jupiter and Uranus triple conjunctions of 2010 – 2011, continuing to bring about change and awakening new levels of political, psychological and spiritual awareness. Now in 2020 a year-long dance of the outer planets with Pluto (in Capricorn), energised by fiery Mars in its own sign of Aries, culminates at the Winter Solstice with a line up and grand conjunction between Jupiter and Saturn in Aquarius. And that’s not all. Great conjunctions between the rulers of time and the ages occurs roughly every 20 years, staying in one element for a period of around 200, before moving to the next. This year the Great Mutation will occur in air, the ruler of ideas, collective awareness, and all things Internet-based. So, this Winter Solstice, we have a Great Transformation, a Great Mutation and a Great Conjunction all in the first degree of Aquarius!

Bridging the cosmic and the terrestrial is the symbolic World Tree, the axis mundi that links the three worlds. And houses throughout the land currently have their very own evergreen World Tree, complete with a twinkling star on top. Myths describing this ancient symbol stretches across all ages and cultures, but the Norse version is one of the most beautiful and evocative of them all. Here it is Yggdrasil, the sacred ash, that holds the nine realms of the cosmos within its branches and roots. Each of its three roots ends in different worlds where they draw water form different sources, or well, and the dragon Nidhogg continuously gnaws upon them. A stag feasts on the branches, and from his horns flow the waters that feed all the rivers and wells flow. Three Norns protect and tend to the World Tree, caving magic runes into its trunk and weaving a loom that represents time itself. Every morning the leaves of Yggdrasil form a sweet glimmering dew, our memory of yesterday, and it is the sacred duty of one of the Norns to collect the dew and pour it into her well, the Well of Memory, for it is written that if the past is disregarded the roots will dry up. In the centre of her well are two sacred swans, continually creating love, and there are also said to be serpents. Another Norn presides over the flowers that are fed by the sacred waters, and the third assists the flowers to reach out to the future.

So it is by tending the wisdom and experience of the past that we build the foundations for a rich and soulful future. As the wheel of the year turns this Winter Solstice under a great conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter (Star of Bethlehem?) heralding in the Age of Aquarius, this beautiful myth shows us how to collect the sweet glimmering due of the past in order to weave a glorious and joyful future for all of the nine worlds of which we are just one part. And one, which the prophets foretold, will bring peace and good will to all men and women.

Image Credit: the Norns tending the World Tree by Ratatoska.

November Snow Moon: Toadstools, Frogs and Fairy Queens

Around the November full moon, it was customary in Ireland to dress in green in honour of the fairy folk and their most famous queen, Oonagh. Known as the most beautiful goddess of them all, Oonagh was said to fly over the land wearing a gossamer, silver robe bejewelled with dew, her long golden hair sweeping the ground, beguiling all those with whom she came into contact. Though mortal men could not help but fall in love with her, the High King Finvarrva, her husband, seemed oblivious to her glamour and preferred instead to seduce mortal women. Today, the once High Queen of the Daoine Sidhe, or people of the mound, has been relegated to such vague titles as ‘love goddess,’ or ‘protectress of young animals’ and ‘mistress of illusion and glamour,’ but we can still piece together the mere fragments of her story that survive to develop a picture of this elusive queen and the rites that once surrounded her.

According to the Mythological Cycle, the Tuatha De Danann were a pre-historic people who arrived in Ireland ‘on the first of May,’ and engaged in battle with the Fir Bolg, a pre-existing warrior tribe, at Mag Tuireadh. Though the Tuatha were victorious they also had to negotiate with a pre-existing tribe known as the Formorians, who were hostile to them but who they finally defeated years later with the aid of magical weapons at the second battle of Mag Tuireadh. However, they were in turn also destined to be replaced by another incoming tribe, the Milesians, who also arrived on the 1^st May, and later converted to Christianity. The characters of the Tuatha became mythologised as gods and retired to the sidhe, the pre-historic burial mounds that peppered the Irish landscape, where they remain to this day.[1] It is widely disputed to what extent this mythological history constitutes actual migrations, or the battles real historical events, but it should always be born in mind that myths emerge out of a relationship between people and places and therefore contain perennial truths and ecological wisdoms with multiple meanings and nuances.

Whether historic figures or not, the Tuatha were said to have magical powers, to be masters of the sidhe, or siddhi, which means in this context, power over the elemental forces and therefore the arts of prophecy, healing and magic. These powers were quite literally regarded as otherworldly – the Otherworld being the realm of archetypal and magical beings (‘Super-nature’) that both permeates and is separate from the world inhabited by humans. Super-nature has an existence that is independent from us, and if we are fortunate, comes forward to us in our imagination and dreams. In fairy lore, this place is sometimes known as the Land of Elphame, where the fairies of Daoine-sidhe, are said to reside. Oonagh as Fairy Queen could access the wisdom of the Elphame, and her colour was green, reflecting the emerald grass, majestic trees and plants abounding in the land of Ireland.

The people of the Daoine-sidhe would have guarded their powers tightly (this could have been the origins of the term green with envy?) and therefore it was not permitted for fairy queens to marry mortals, though they themselves became infatuated with her. It is interesting in the stories that Finvarra is said to indulge quite freely in carnal relationships with mortal women, and this could be an indication that his offspring would not have been given the same fay status as that of the matrilineal fairy queen. Be that as it may, during later times and under the superstitions and distortions imposed by Christianity, people feared that their own children had been supplanted by ‘malevolent’ changeling fairies who brought about family ills, and designed tests to root out infiltrators that inevitably, and sadly, ended in deforming their own children.

The Fairy Queen though usually beguiling also had a dark side, for it was said that she was bound to pay a tithe to Hel every seven years and it was her mortal lovers who were to pay this price. Men were therefore both fascinated and afraid of her, as reflected in the poem ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’ by Keats. The knight in the poem ‘meets a lady in the meads, full beautiful – a faery’s child. Her hair was long, her foot was light, and her eyes were wild.’ He rides off with the fairy maid and then sees,’ pale kings and princes too, pale warriors, death pale were they all. They cried, ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci Hath thee in thrall.’

Like Oonagh, the faery being in the poem is said to have long hair and again this is a symbol of both the chastity and unavailability of the fay woman, who even when vulnerable and naked, remains veiled by her hair. This ‘veiling’ is a very ancient symbol of the goddess, or the mysteries, that remain veiled to the uninitiated until the time is right. Indeed, Oonagh’s gossamer dress is more veil than robe-like, as though it appears like sparkling diamonds, it is actually made from dew-drops.

The fairy queen of Elphame has an enduring presence in the popular imagination of the Middle Ages and has survived in numerous pieces of literature and folktale. Edmund Spenser called her Gloriana in his poem the Faerie Queen, and Shakespeare called her Titania in his comedy ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ This name was itself derived from Diana, the Roman goddess of the hunt, who became associated with the fairy realm in the folklore of the Middle Ages on account of her association with woods, forests and fountains.[2]

The social structures of the Tuatha de Danaan were centred on seas of assembly called raths, circular mounds built as ancient burial mounds and therefore considered sacred. They were sometimes known as fairy rings, as were pre-existing stone circles. Fairy rings are also the name given to a type of mushroom – the Mousseron – which appears in early spring-time and grows in circular formations that expand out over large periods of time. This mushroom variety is highly edible, but sometimes growing alongside is another variety called Amanita muscaria, more often called a toadstool on account of its red-topped fungus and warty proturberances. It is classed as highly poisonous, though less so when boiled, and is ingested on account of its hallucinogenic and intoxicating properties.[3] It has long since been used in a ritual context, possible recorded in the Rigveda of India, were it was called ‘soma.’ The uses of ayahuasca and the psilocybin mushrooms as hallucinogens is well known and more than likely used by ancient people in ritual context to bring about spiritual experiences, and aid communication with the archetypal beings of the Otherworld.

Toads are known to have highly toxic chemicals in the nodes under their skin, which they can use as deadly defences in some cases. Most are poisonous, but it has been discovered that the cane toad, amongst others, secretes chemicals with highly hallucinogenic effects.[4] It is therefore interesting to speculate if there is a link between these properties and the fairy tale theme of princesses kissing frogs, which then turn into handsome princes. In a version of the frog prince tale told in the Western Isles of Scotland, it is tempting to see just this. The story begins with a queen who has become ill and can only be healed by water from the well of truth. Her three daughters set out to find the well, but when they approach it, a loathsome frog appears who will only grant them access if one agrees to marry him. The youngest pledges to do so, and the frog permits them access to the water, which is then used to heal the mother queen. But in due course, the frog seeks out the daughter and reminds her of her pledge to marry him. He croaks and croaks, but she resolutely ignores him until he tells her to put an end to his torture and chop off his head! This she duly does, whereupon he turns into a handsome prince and marries the princess.

The fairy story of the frog prince can be interpreted on many other levels worthy of an entire book, but all of which encode a forgotten relationship between humans and the Otherworld inhabited by the people of the sidhe (Super-nature). By having the humility to accept nature in all its forms, beautiful and ugly, and to be open to the Otherworld and its gifts of ‘fairy gold,’ we have the power to transform our mundane human experience into one of deep connection with the land, and to the life-sustaining nourishment of the mythic imagination from which we are currently so disconnected.

In addition to circular mounds, water was also frequently seen as a boundary between the mortal and the Otherworld, or Land of Elphame, and it was at these water sources that frogs and toads were frequently found, as in the folktale above. Visibly seen to be birthed in pools of water, frogs were considered as representatives of water spirits, particularly healing ones, often associated with the blessings of rain and the purifying and life-giving forces of water. Figurines of frogs with female heads have been found dating back to at least the sixth millennium BCE in Hacilar in Turkey, and also in birthing/life giving poses in the archaeological record of Old Europe.[5] The fact that frogs laid frog spawn (eggs), which is then turn hatch into tadpoles, aquatic creatures with tails, then finally develop into frogs (amphibians that can survive both on land and in water) marks them out as unique manifestations of the goddess as both creatrix and regeneratrix.

[1] ‘The new Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology’ 1959, Hamlyn

[2] See ‘Fairy Queen – Wikepedia’ available at www.en.m.wikepedia.org, accessed 29.11.2020

[3] See ‘Fly Algaric (Amanita muscaria) – Woodland Trust’ available at www.woodlandtrust.org.uk, accessed 29.11.2020

[4] See ‘Psychedilic Toad Venon is the New Trendy Hallucinogenic Addition,’ available at www.addictioncenter.com, accessed 29.11.2020.

[5] ‘The Gods and Goddesses of Old Europe,’ by Marija Gimbutas, 1982, Thames and Hudson

Samhain Blue Moon: the Morrigan, Crows and Hel

This year the thirteenth moon of the year, when there are two full moons in a month, auspiciously falls at Samhain, an ancient festival of death and new beginnings. This liminal time becomes quite literally tonight a ‘Time between Worlds’ represented by the twelve months of the solar calendar and the more ancient thirteen moons of the lunar calendar, both of which comprise roughly 365 days. A potent blue moon and time of transformation and magic.

In the Celtic world, Samhain was when the cattle were brought down from the summer pastures and when livestock were slaughtered in preparation for the forthcoming winter months. It was a time of great feasting and drinking, a major fire festival when the beacons would be lit across the hill tops to cleanse and purify and re-establish the bond between heaven and earth. Also when the veils between the worlds are thin, bringing us closer to the spirit of the ancestors and the Sidhe. This festival-of-the-dead aspect has been incorporated into the Catholic tradition of All Souls and All Saints day, celebrated on November 1^st and 2^nd, when celebrations still take place all over the world in cemeteries or in the streets. For most people, this is Halloween when children go out trick-or-treating, and even this has deep roots in the past. In the Anglo-Saxon tradition, people would go door to door begging for soul cakes, which were then used to feed the souls of the dead.

This is also a time of powerful celestial harbingers. At the beginning of November, Earth passes through the Taurids meteor shower, when great flares of slow moving light streak across the night sky. In the past, this is possibly a time when meteors fell to Earth, making this a time of dangerous potent, but also highly auspicious, linking heaven and earth, life and death. In the Anglo-Saxon period, this was when the goddess Hel was on the loose. Sometimes she is said to ride with Odin across the skies in the Wild Hunt, when the demons of the Underworld maraude in the form of large, ominous, ghostly hordes. This deeply celestial motif could also be linked in folk memory to the vast flocks of migrating birds, particularly geese, that would have filled the skies with awesome flapping of wings and haunting honking sounds as they fly across the backdrop of the Milky Way to winter feeding grounds.

Odin made Hel queen of Niflheim, the Underworld realm of the dead, and she was terrible to behold, one half of her body healthy and the other half rotten and diseased. She received all the dead, except those who had died in battle, and her realm was part a place of rest and peace, part a place where the evil were punished for their terrible deeds. Sound familiar? However, she was also associated with lakes and streams under the name of Holde (in the German speaking world), and with the growing of flax, spinning and the hearth, demonstrating that she was once a multi-faceted goddess who has become demonised by the Church in later times.[1]

In Celtic tradition, it was the great queen, the Morrigan, who came to the fore at Samhain. This ancient phantom queen had three aspects, Badb (the banshee or crow), Macha and Neman. She was a guardian of territory and people, so a Sovereignty goddess, and in this respect was associated with war and fate, and with prophetic voice, particularly that associated with doom, death or victory in battle. In her death aspect she was seen as an old woman washing the bloody sheets of the dead at the crossroads, the washer at the ford, the archetypal banshee.

In the Mythological Cycles, the Morrigan is listed among the Tuatha de Danaan and appears in many of the old stories. For example, in the Cattle Raid of Cooley she reveals herself to be a shapeshifter par excellence, turning into a series of animals – a crow, woman, eel, wolf, a white red-eared heifer – all of which sustain wounds, then finally an old woman milking a cow but with the wounds gained in animal form still intact. The story then goes on to reveal her healing and regenerative abilities, for she gives the hero milk from her cow three times and in return he blesses her, healing her wounds.

In the Second Battle of Moytura, the Morrigan has a Samhain tryst with the Dagda before he goes into battle with the Fomorians. He is out walking by the river when:

‘He beheld a woman washing herself with one of her two feet to the south of the water, and the other to the north of the water. Nine loosened tresses were on her head. The Dadga conversed with her and they made a union. The bed of the Couple is the name of the place henceforward. The woman that is there mentioned is the Morrigu.’ [2]

She tells him where the Fomorians will land and promises to kill the Fomorian king and bring back two handfuls of his blood as proof. Their union is said to take place every year on the eve of Samhain, which marks the end of the agricultural year and the beginning of a new one, so this coupling between the forces of light and darkness is possibly symbolic of new beginnings, and of rebirth in sexual union.

The primary bird of the triple Morrigan is the hooded crow, and she is sometimes depicted in this form. The tradition of the great goddess as bird is ancient and there is a lot of evidence for her in this form in the Old European Copper Age. [3]This was when the goddess nurtured and generated, destroyed and regenerated again and her beak, claws, wings, vulva and breasts symbolised these transitional stages. Crows are also scavengers and appeared on the battlefield to feed off the flesh of the dead, linking them with the forces of destruction and suffering associated with death in this form, accentuated by their hooded heads, scaly claws and hooked beaks. They also spoke in haunting tones, their caws floating eerily through desolate landscapes, and they were therefore often used in divination, to foretell the death of heroes, and their flight patterns could also be interpreted by druids versed in their meanings. The link between these birds and the life-death-rebirth cycle mediated by the goddess is seen in the ritual of burying crows, or ravens, with outspread wings at the bottom of pits or shafts linking this world with the Underworld. This was the bird goddess as psychopomp, guiding and accompanying the souls of the dead on their journey between the worlds. When death is seen as part of life and not morbidly feared, then regeneration and rebirth emerge as natural parts of the cycle of life/death of which we are all part.

[1] ‘Hel, Norse goddess of the Underworld,’ available at http://www.learnreligions.com

[2] ‘The Second Battle of Moytura,’ Stokes, 1891 available at http://www.sacredtexts.com

[3] See Marija Gimbutas’ work for abundance evidence

Picture credits: ‘Morrigan’ by Irenhorrors, ‘Crow’ and ‘Morrigan’ under public domain licencing

October Blood Moon: Pig, Ivy and the Curse of Macha

As we enter October, named from Octem in the old Roman calendar, we begin our slow descent into the Underworld of winter. The last of the fruits ripen, succulent yellow pears, and the chlorophyl in green leaves dries to produce shades of burnished bronze. Most plants give in gracefully to this Underworld descent, but a few continue to flourish. Foremost amongst these is the virulent ivy, wrapping undeterred its spiralling, waxy leaves around anything standing in its path.

Ivy has been associated with intoxication and poetry in many cultures, with the constellations, and in particular the moon. In the classical world, it was used to enhance the frenzied rituals of the Bacchae, followers of Dionysus, who steeped ivy leaves in wine in order to make it more potent (and the after-effects less so). The Anglo-Saxons also used it to brew beer before the introduction of hops, then known as alehoof, and taverns would display an ivy bush over the door to show they brewed only the best alcohol. [1]This demonstrates that the Celtic world was familiar with the potent intoxicating effects of the plant, and could have used it in ritual contexts to enhance inspiration and bardic ability.

The October full moon was sometimes known as the blood moon because this was when life stock was slaughtered and salted in preparation for the long winter months ahead. Swine herders would drive their pigs throughout autumn to graze on the acorns and beech nuts strewn across the ways and woods, distributing the fat evenly across the body of the creatures through daily exercise. As such the pig, the sow in particular, was often seen as the nourisher, sacred to the goddess in many traditions and held in high regard in the Celtic one. Pigs were herded and consumed in large numbers at clan gatherings and feasts, and also at symbolic Otherworldly feasts where great life-giving cauldrons were said to be endlessly filled with boiled or roasted pork.

Pigs were often used ritualistically in the Celtic world, and at the Iron Age fort on Hayling Island and Cadbury in Somerset, large numbers of pigs have been found deliberately buried, sometimes in avenues.[2] They were also sometimes buried alongside people, whom they presumably continued to nourish in the afterlife, and it was believed that the pigs too would be continually reborn after their slaughter. Whereas the sow was linked with nourishment and life, it was the male boar who was more associated with death and life-taking aspects.

Swine nerds are also mentioned in early Welsh sacred tradition, and the White Ancient One, a sow called Henwen is said to give birth to an eagle, a bee, a kitten and a grain of wheat. This birthing or shapeshifting ability has led some researchers to see links between Henwen and the goddess Ceridwen, who they call the white sow goddess of pigs. Though the evidence for this is thin, there is abundant evidence that the sow was seen as sacred to a life-giving creatrix goddess as far back as early Neolithic times across Europe, and this could be an echo of this belief.

In Celtic tradition, October and the feast of Samhain are often linked with the Morrigan, a triple goddess with one of her aspects taking the form of the intriguing Sovereignty goddess, Macha. She was said to be one of the Tuatha de Danaan, and sometimes considered a triple goddess in her own right, with different persona woven together in the stories to form one multi-faceted person. As a Sovereignty goddess, she is an embodiment of the land, conferring sexual favours on suitable kings selected to step into the role of guardians. As protector of both territory and the people connected with it, she is also both warrior and carer, mediator of fertility and plenty.

One of her most famous stories is told in the Debility of the Ulstermen, where she is strongly connected with the horse, the ultimate symbol of Celtic Sovereignty . Her appearance is sudden and unexpected, for one day she simply shows up at the house of a farmer named Cruinniuc and takes on the role of his wife. ‘She fetched a kneading-trough and a sieve and began to prepare food. As the say drew to an end, she took a vessel and milked the cow, still without speaking.’[3]

His wealth grew and Cruinniuc prospered with Macha at his side, a sure sign that she was the goddess Sovereignty in human form, and she even becomes pregnant by him. One day he leaves to attend a festival organised by the king of Ulster, and she warns him that he must not speak of her to anyone otherwise she will not stay. However, he breaks the promise and during a chariot race, boasts to the king that his wife can run faster than even his swiftest horse. Cruinnic is ordered on pain of death to prove his claim, and Macha is duly brought before the king. Even though she is heavily pregnant by now, he forces her to run against his horses without mercy.

Sure enough, Macha wins the race, and gives birth at the finishing line to a twin boy and girl before the king’s horses reach their goal. Then, for disrespecting her she utters a curse that is to be in place unto the ninth generation: the men of Ulster will be overcome with weakness in the hour of their greatest need, becoming as weak as a woman in childbirth (or in some accounts, suffer the pain of childbirth) for five days and four nights. The place where she gave birth is known as the Emain Macha, and is today equated with the sacred site of Navan in Co. Armagh. All the men who heard her cry were immediately seized with weakness, and the effects come once more into play in the Cattle Raid of Cooley (see ‘June Mead Moon: Honeysuckle, Maeve and Bees‘ above) when the Ulstermen were unable to resist the invasion of Maeve and her men.

As with the other Sovereignty goddesses such as Aine and Maeve in the Irish cycles, or Rhiannon and Branwen in the Welsh mythological traditions, we abuse or disrespect the goddess of the land, and therefore the land itself, at our peril. Weak and power hungry kinship, where the king has forgotten his role as guardian or the land or people, is also punished with a withdrawal of abundance and wealth, lessons still as relevant today as the times when they were first spoken and written.

[1] ‘Ivy’ in ‘The Green Man Tree Oracle’ by John Matthews and Will Worthington

[2] ‘Sow’ in ‘The Druid Animal Oracle’ by Philip and Stephanie Carr-Gomm

[3] ‘The Debility of the Ulstermen,’ translated by Mary Jones (online)