Goddess of the Week

Well now that makes sense. The faeries are legendarily quite active around Midsummer, especially on the Eve. The veil between the worlds is said to be quite thin now, as well. I've always thought that it's because in the northern lands (and even here in New England, which isn't all that far north really) at Midsummer the sky never quite gets entirely dark, and keeps a bit of that luminous twilight glow to it even in the wee hours. And if there's one thing the faeries love it's the twilight and the in-between places.

I'm not sure there's much more to add to that. Get out this week into nature, and find that twilight liminal realm for yourself. Spend some time with the magical, the wild, the overgrown and the in-between, whether in the outer world in its green tangle, or the inner world of dreams and visions. Seek the memories of magical times, or the luminous dreams you once had; it will be restorative to the soul.

What do They, for They are always plural, say?

Leave some garden for the groundhogs.

Well I suppose we can't expect 'serious' of the faeries, can we? Still, that's in line with leaving the last apple on the tree for the apple-tree man, isn't it?

Goddess of the Week

Well all right then. Something is definitely up. Last week was Danu, Mother of the Faeries; and just three weeks ago on January 4th we got Faerie for the first time. I admit I am a bit baffled, though the message looks to be urgent; and the sledgehammer approach is starting to make me a little nervous. The faeries have a reputation for tricksiness, after all, and for finding clever and ignominious ways to make us listen.

So, let's see. It could be as simple as urging us to be more playful, more creative, more silly. Good advice, especially given the political situation here in the US which has had me for one feeling pretty crummy all week. And it's true, I did a particularly silly bit of art the other night (this year's Groundhog Day card) and felt immensely better about things in general afterwards.

Imbolc, Brigit's Day, is nearly upon us. (Brigit, incidentally, Who is one of the Tuatha Dé Danann, one of the People or Children of Danu, though Her mother is not usually named). Perhaps it is tied in to that. Imbolc is a marker of quickening, of sap rising and milk dropping, of the fire flaming within us in anticipation of spring. Daffodils are starting to poke through, even here in grey old New England, and the growing light is becoming apparent. The Wheel turns and we begin to noticeably ascend. How can we align ourselves onto that path, enter in with harmony and good timing, like joining a game of double dutch jump-rope?

Though I think 'anticipation' is not quite the right word. So much of the prepartory work of Spring goes on in the dark; those daffodil shoots have six or more inches of growth to put on before even breaking the surface. Perhaps it is about acknowledging the work done in the dark, and acknowledging and appreciating the hidden foundations of things.

Look into the dark this week. What work have you already begun? What is there in there that you aren't acknowledging or seeing as groundwork? Imbolc is all about the light at the end of the tunnel. Do you see it? Who is with you now, in that tunnel and the dark?

With this card it's always a plurality of voices, and They say:

OOOOOoooooo can't you feel it, the pull? We are being pulled out into the light, all of us more and more, yes we are here now, something is breaking through. Don't you know the veil has to thin a little to let the shoots out? They come from the dark, don't they? You think it is all metaphor. It is all real. Where does this idea come from anyway? What is resurrection but what seeds do? Does that not mean out of death comes life, and the veil must part? It is all around you, secrets hidden in plain sight. Look! Silly, stupid, humans. You are not outside of this!

We know this. We are telling you! Listen! Look! It is there in plain sight!

Yes, I'm silly and stupid. I'm not seeing it, plain sight or no. So I ask, What is it? Have I guessed already?

Yes! Feel the sap rise in your veins. Coax it out! Sing it into being! Celebrate! Dance with us, dance the flowers out of the earth. You can move this along, too. It is not just our job. Make it happen!

How?

Dance! Sing! Move! Breathe air! Make things, love and bread and pretty pictures! Clean the yard! Make room for Spring!

Really? The Faeries want me to clean? *That* doesn't sound right.

The way is blocked. Clear it!

I get an image of a river swollen and swirling with melted snow. But there is also a lot of debris that has washed into the river, sticks and branches and leaves; and they have piled up against the narrow opening of an old arched bridge, making it harder for the river to flow. It's that sort of thing that needs cleaning, I think.

How can you help this along? What needs to be cleared away, cleaned out, tidied up, to let things flow for you? How can you make room for Spring?

Goddess of the Week

This week's Goddess isn't exactly a Goddess, is She? She is Faerie, meaning, representative of all of the magical wild ones of this earth; though I was thinking specifically of the Celtic tradition, which is rich in fairy lore. Per that tradition, She has leaves of the oak, ash and (haw)thorn in Her hair; and She is green, representing the thriving and flourishing forces of Nature.

The word 'fairy' ultimately derives from the Latin fata, the Fates; interestingly enough it seems the word was used first to describe a land of magic and enchantment, in other words Elfland, before it was used on the inhabitants of that land.

This land, this Otherworld, is commonly said to have different rules than the human world; and while it seems that way on a surface level, I have always found (from what I've read, anyway) that their rules make perfect sense, on the level of dreams and intuition. Maybe, that level is the level that is wilder, closer to the land and an 'uncivilized' way of being, one we humans have nearly forgotten; I think we are being reminded to remember it now.

I think this is a call, one that invites us off the boring, beaten path, both the broad broad road and the one beset with thorns and briars, to that bonny bonny road, as they say, the one deep in ferns and bracken.

Did you make any New Year's resolutions this week? How many of them are far too sensible and stifling? This card warns against the, well, not exactly the practical things, but the little dreams, the things you think you have to get in order before you allow yourself to get to the real dreams, the magnificent, wild, gorgeous and startling ones.

We are wild, underneath it all, we humans; we are after all just another kind of animal. We think we are not. This will probably be our downfall; this hubris, and this Othering of a world we are not separate from.

I think we are being advised to shake things up; and it comes with a not-so-subtle warning that if we don't, things will be shaken up for us. This is how faeries operate, or so I've heard.

Take time this week to listen, and to be; pay especial attention to both day dreams and night dreams, and look into the shadows and uncertain places for the little faces peering out. There is something rich to be found there. Some strand has looped close to the surface this week, though it is not the traditional time (in the North, anyway; in the South it absolutely is, having just passed Midsummer's Day); pay attention. A gift is being offered, I think. Not that I can be sure; and anyway it is for you to judge. Keep your wits about you, but think from the heart and that deep dreaming place, and always, always, remember compassion.

I don't know what I shall get if I ask for Her, Their, advice this week, but let's see:

We love you. You are beautiful, and good. You are in alignment already; you do not have to try so hard. You know. You are taking the iron away; we would love you for that alone. But you are lovely too, and make such pretty things!

Plant flowers. Plant a garden, and do not weed it too much. Let it all thrive, the invited and the uninvited. Now? Look at seed catalogs and dream. Now is the time to plant the seeds in your soul; you know this already. So what? Do we have to tell you? Listen to us, don't listen, yes we are the butterfly, you know it, read that book again, read the books that make the child of you happy, the magical ones, the in-between ones. We love in-between. Dig out the old, the forgotten, the magical, find that space again, that twilight realm, the numinous, liminal, all those fancy Roman words, the spirits in the trees and the grass and the nematodes in the soil. Find them, imagine them into being in this dark time, this time just perfect for dreaming.

And make merry. Always make merry.

I think They are right; I've certainly been hankering to read The Last Unicorn again recently (I always had such a crush on Schmendrick, with those long green eyes of his). Find a memory of yours of a magical time, and see if you can't find a way to, if not inhabit that place again, to look in on it a little.

What do you think?