Fire in the forge that
shapes and tempers.

Fire of the hearth that
nourishes and heals.

Fire in the head that
incites and inspires.
~ The Three-Fold Fire of Brighid, Ord Brighideach

Continuing the discussion of Brigid begun last week, even after the Roman Catholic Church banned all Pagan ways, She was so firmly and permanently beloved, She was absorbed into Christianity as a saint. Beloved to millions, She has been called the Mother Goddess of Ireland.

The woman identified as St. Brigid built her Abbey around 480 C.E., on a hill beside a great oak tree.  This had been an important gathering place and sacred pilgrimage site since far more ancient times, and it was named from the Gaelic term Cill Dara, which means the Cell or Church of the Oak, pointing to its importance in Druid practice. We now know it as Kildare.

Long before Her adaptation as a Christian saint, possibly even pre-dating the Celtic civilization, there had been a great cult that surrounded this Sun Goddess with various spellings including Bride (pronounced “breed” or “breej”), Brigit, or Brighid.

Brigid (both Saint and Goddess) presides over healing, inspiration, poetry, and smithcraft. She is provider of plenty, giver of life and is also identified with nurturing, childbirth, fertility and fire.

In addition to Her fiery blessings, wells and many rivers and streams are sacred to Brigid, for they are doorways to the Underworld and the womb of our Mother, the source of all life. You can also see Her embodied in the bright stars of the constellation we call Orion.

For millennia at Her temple at Kildare, Brigid’s priestesses, and later, the nuns of Her order, tended an eternal flame in Her honor. Although it was extinguished during the Burning Times (the Inquisition) for being too Pagan, Sister Mary Minehan boldly re-lit St. Brigid’s flame on Her feast day in 1993.

It was lit again for the day in 1997, in the square at Kildare by Ragny Skaisten, a member of the Norwegian Brigidine Sisters.

Each year thereafter on Brigid’s Feast Day, despite reluctance from the Pope, the Brigidine Sisters in Kildare continued to light Her flame in the town square for the day.

Until 2006.

For then, the Wheel turned yet again.  That year, in Kildare, on St. Brigid’s day, with much ceremony and celebration, including the dedication of a specially commissioned sculpture housing it, Her eternal flame was lit once more, by the president of Ireland, Mary McAleese.

And there it burns to this day.

The local news reports described the sculpture as “a twisted column, which flourishes at the top into large-scale oak leaves, nestled into which there is a bronze acorn cup holding the flame. The use of oak leaves symbolises both the Christian beliefs of St. Brigid and the earlier Druidic worship of the trees.”

Brigid presides over all transformations: birth and brewing, metal-smithing and poetry, and the passage from Winter to Spring. Her name may be derived from Gaelic “breo aigit” meaning “fiery arrow.” Her name is noticeably similar to the Sanskrit derivation “Brahti” which means “exalted one.”

The gifts of Brigid transcend spiritual path and culture. Brigid inspires us to become more than we have ever been – to reach for the greatest potential that exists in each of us. Her Flame is given to us for inspiration. It lights the path from our dark Winter to the promise of Spring.

It illuminates us to see and know our ancient, true history. Hers is the purifying fire that heals our wounds, forges new strength, and weaves creativity and art into our lives.

May Brigid the Shining One bless you with Her hope and power.   May the waters of healing in your life flow freely and clearly; may the Light illuminate your path. May we, with our lives, ensure that Her holy fire burns forever more.   Blessed be.

Some nights I stay up until dawn,
as the Moon does for the Sun.
I have lived on the lip of insanity,
waiting to know reasons
knocking on a door.
It opens.
I’ve been knocking from the inside.

~ Rumi

For the last five or six years (I am losing track), I have joined the global poetry slam in honor of Brigid, Goddess of Poetry, Healing, and Art.  The slam includes, not only poetry praises to our beloved Goddess, but offerings of poetry of all kinds.

As it happens, just yesterday, Poland’s Nobel Laureate Poet, Wislawa Szymborska crossed the veil. I am sure that Brigid has welcomed Her wry, brilliant daughter with loving arms.

It is in Ms. Szymborska’s memory, and in honor of blessed Brigid’s gifts of healing — even healing the horrors of war –  that I dedicate my Brigid Poetry Slam selection.  Blessed be.

The End and the Beginning

By Wisława Szymborska (1923-2012)
Translated By Joanna Trzeciak

After every war
someone has to clean up.
Things won’t
straighten themselves up, after all.

Someone has to push the rubble
to the side of the road,
so the corpse-filled wagons
can pass.

Someone has to get mired
in scum and ashes,
sofa springs,
splintered glass,
and bloody rags.

Someone has to drag in a girder
to prop up a wall.
Someone has to glaze a window,
rehang a door.

Photogenic it’s not,
and takes years.
All the cameras have left
for another war.

We’ll need the bridges back,
and new railway stations.
Sleeves will go ragged
from rolling them up.

Someone, broom in hand,
still recalls the way it was.
Someone else listens
and nods with unsevered head.
But already there are those nearby
starting to mill about
who will find it dull.

From out of the bushes
sometimes someone still unearths
rusted-out arguments
and carries them to the garbage pile.

Those who knew
what was going on here
must make way for
those who know little.
And less than little.
And finally as little as nothing.

In the grass that has overgrown
causes and effects,
someone must be stretched out
blade of grass in his mouth
gazing at the clouds.

Wislawa Szymborska, “The End and the Beginning” from Miracle Fair, translated by Joanna Trzeciak.
Copyright © 2001 by Joanna Trzeciak.

A silver apple falls.
There, amongst the branches, the mother sits.
Weaver of dreams against the weft of the wood,
Insight falls like gentle rain on a moon-bathed garden.
– Song to Hecate, by Alison Jones

Now we make ready for the great festival of Imbolc, sometimes called Candlemas or Brigid. In many places, the dates that roughly correspond to Feb. 1 through the 3rd are celebrated because they are the midpoint between the darkest night at Yule and the perfect balance of light and dark that comes at Ostara – Spring Equinox. This has been subsumed by modern culture into the weather divination event, “Groundhog Day.”

All around us, Life is stirring in Her sleep, preparing to rise again. The days are noticeably longer.

This year, so far, true Winter has not come to our woods in North Carolina. We have had a few cold nights and chilly days, but no snow, only a little early morning ice, and no prolonged freeze to cleanse the energies and put firmly to sleep those who need to rest in the dark part of the year.

So now, woodpeckers are hammering their seductive territorial calls. The white-throated sparrow is singing her songs of awakening. While some of the fiercest Winter weather may yet visit, the tips of our shrubs and trees are blushing with returning sap and my daffodils are beginning to open.  Throughout the northern lands, the first lambs are being born (hence the name Imbolc, which comes from oimelc, the ewe’s milk of the nursing mothers).

We of the Old Ways see Imbolc as a traditional time for dedication, or beginning a new path of initiation and spiritual study. The commitment that students of the Craft make to “a year and a day” traditionally begins at this time.  It is a time for purification, recharging and blessing our magical tools, and, if you are inclined, “Pagan lent.”

At Imbolc, we honor the great mystery of the Triple Goddess, as She changes now from the Dark Mother and Crone who has accompanied us since Samhain, into the Maiden once more.

Thus, on this last day of January, as on all final days of each month, we honor the Great Goddess Hecate, Goddess of Witches, She who guards the crossroads. It is Hecate, Goddess of the Night, who teaches us the ancient Mysteries.

The last day of each month is sacred to Her, but especially this one, being the moment of Her transformation, as the Crone transforms into the Maiden. Hecate, the Ancient One, who has faithfully, lovingly guided us in the darkest nights of the year with Her torch now reveals beloved Brigid of the Sacred Flames.

What transformation are you in the process of creating or becoming?

Take some time today, to consider your own awakenings. Use this time before Imbolc to consider what you wish to give your attention to, over the next year and a day. A new skill? A new way of being a healer or Priest/ess for Gaia and Her children? Has a special God or Goddess called you to learn, worship, and serve?

All that was old becomes new again.  Listen now with all your heart as you, too, are charged and changed. Let yourself be guided to what is next for your soul’s journey.

Blessed be.

In order to risk, we have to be willing to look bad. We have to be willing to be a sucker. We have to be willing to look like fools.
~ Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way

After a hiatus of several years, during this magical week of Imbolc, The Fool returns.

The Fool is all about potential, new beginnings, and risk-taking. It’s time for a complete reboot, a clean slate, and taking a leap of faith!

Imbolc, also called Candlemas or Brighid, is the traditional time of setting our intention for the magical year. During this Sabbat, we dedicate to a path of study, we make or renew our most intimate vows of spiritual devotion, and we cleanse and re-energize our tools and sacred objects.

Imbolc is a cross-quarter holiday, meaning it is halfway between Solstice and Equinox.  It is the doorway through which we can see that Spring is certainly coming.

But before we can plant the seeds that will eventually grow into a healthy, thriving new life force, we, like The Fool, stand at the edge of what has been and what is yet to come.

The Fool follows the completion of The World, and he precedes the manifesting of The Magician. The Fool is the zero in the Tarot – he is the beginning and the end of the Major Arcana journey, where all potential exists, all things are possible.

Zero is a very radical idea. Author Charles Seife discusses it at length in his acclaimed bestseller, Zero: The Biography of a Dangerous Idea. “This innocent-looking number, from its birth as an Eastern philosophical concept to its struggle for acceptance in Europe, its rise and transcendence in the West, and its ever-present threat to modern physics…has pitted East against West and faith against reason, and its intransigence persists in the dark core of a black hole and the brilliant flash of the Big Bang.

“Today, zero lies at the heart of one of the biggest scientific controversies of all time, the quest for a theory of everything…For zero, infinity’s twin, is not like other numbers. It is both nothing and everything.”

The zero may remind us of the Japanese symbol enso, a core concept of Zen wisdom. It is the symbol of mystery, absolute enlightenment, strength, elegance, the universe, and the void.

So here is our Fool of nothingness and everything; innocence and enlightenment; the Great Emptiness, poised on the edge of Becoming.

Sporting a jaunty red feather of passion, and with his hand in the position of the Gyan Mudra, he holds a white rose – symbol of both passion and purity. His cloak is covered in circles divided into eighths – referencing the eight quarters and cross-quarter holidays of the Wheel of the Year.

He is the new beginning, with his companion dog either warning or dancing with him (or a bit of both). As he stands on the edge of his leap into the unknown, he carries a small satchel on a stick. He travels with only the essentials, eschewing all that is weighty or complicated. However, look closely and you will see that the stick upon which his bag is attached is none other than a magic wand. Is he aware of its power?

What power might be present in the tools you carry? What is in your own traveling baggage?

The Fool is only a fool to those who stand on the sidelines, judging him.  In his own mind, he is simply following his bliss. The Universe loves the Fool, and honors him, for in truth, no breakthrough, no cure, no discovery, no accomplishment in human history was ever made without someone being thought a Fool for trying.

In order to grow into who we truly are, we must be willing to risk it. Taking the risk of authenticity is the scariest, most necessary thing you will ever do. And you’ll be required to do it over and over, many times, every day.  Do you dare?

Leap and look foolish we must, or else join the ranks of the sleep-walkers who are hypnotized in their nightmares. I am sure that you, as I do, see them every day.

This week, if you were to simply follow your bliss, what foolish steps would you take? What new path lies before you, beckoning to your wildest, truest desires?

Do not over think this. Instead, now, at Imbolc, let us dance on the foolish edge which is none other than the dream of the Dreamer.

Brighid of the Mantles encompass us
Lady of the Lambs protect us
Keeper of the Hearth kindle us
Beneath your mantle gather us
And Restore us to memory.
~ from An Invocation to Brighid, by Rowan Fairgrove

In addition to declaring this year a celebration of my fortieth anniversary as a Tarot reader, I am also re-dedicating my commitment to the Goddess.

While I deeply honor the Gods, and the many fluid, multiple, and mysterious genders that are manifestations of Deity, my own epiphany and transformation in 1974 was absolutely, unmistakably Feminine.  Thus, it is to Her that I give my ultimate devotion.

So starting today, every Sunday, I will be honoring the Goddess in Her many forms. I hope you will enjoy this new feature each week.

To start off, the Goddess for this week is naturally our blessed Brigid, the “Bright One.” That’s because this week, Pagans and Christians around the world will be celebrating Her Sabbat and feast day (respectively).

Her Catholic feast day is Feb. 1, and some Pagan traditions also honor Her on this date.  But many other Pagan and Craft traditions celebrate this cross-quarter Sabbat on Feb. 2, also calling it Imbolc.

Brigid, also spelled Brighid, Bridget, Bríd, or Bride (the latter two usually pronounced “Breej” or “Breed”), is one of the few Goddesses to survive Christianity nearly intact. She successfully made the leap to revered saint, thanks to the love and devotion of the people of the Celtic lands from which She comes to us.

Although successful in wiping out the worship of many others, the Church could not muster the power to break Her bond with the people, so with a few tweaks and revisions to Her stories, She is still beloved the world over.

Brigid is a Triple Goddess, but as Goddess scholar Patricia Monaghan notes in her essential guide, The New Book of Goddesses and Heroines, “There were three Brigids, who were probably never construed as separate Goddesses, but as aspects of one divinity; unlike other triple Goddesses, they were identical, not aging through the typical maiden-mother-crone sequence.”

The unification of Her triple aspect, Patricia explains, is through Her symbol of fire.

Born at the exact moment of daybreak, Brigid rose into the sky with the Sun, rays of fire beaming from Her head. She is the daughter of the Dagda, the great Good Father God of Ireland.

In Druid mythology, the infant Goddess was fed with milk from a sacred cow from the Otherworld. Brigid owned an apple orchard in the Otherworld and Her bees would bring their magical nectar back to earth. It is said that wherever She walks, small flowers and shamrocks appear. As a Sun Goddess, Her gifts are light (knowledge), inspiration, and the vital and healing energy of the Sun.

Brigid is the Goddess of smithcraft, the creative arts, especially of poetry and inspiration, and of healing and medicine. As the Christian saint, She is patron of the humble folk of the land, protector of the harvest, of wells and streams,  and is the guardian of cattle and sheep. She lights the fire which is never extinguished, which is the hearth fire of the home. Saint Brigid is also the patron saint of studies and learning.

I will have more to say on Thursday, as we honor this very dear and important Goddess on Her own day of worship. For now, may your heart open to Her in thanksgiving and delight.  Blessed be.

The Gardener of Eden

from Packing Up for Paradise: Selected Poems 1946-1996
by James Broughton (1913-1999)

I am the old dreamer who never sleeps
I am timekeeper of the timeless dance
I preserve the long rhythms of the earth
and fertilize the rounds of desire

In my evergreen arboretum
I raise flowering hopes for the world
I plant seeds of perennial affection
and wait for their passionate bloom

Would you welcome that sight if you saw it?
Revalue the view you have lost?
Could you wake to the innocent morning
and follow the risks of your heart?

Every day I grow a dream in my garden
where the beds are laid out for love
When will you come to embrace it
and join in the joy of the dance?

With the New Moon and the beginning of the Year of the Water Dragon, I am launching a year of celebrations, in honor of it being my fortieth anniversary with the Tarot.

I bought the deck I featured on Wednesday back in 1972, and it was true love from then on.

I’d had a fling for a while with astrology, and I’d spent a year studying and journaling with the I Ching, both of which were astonishing and profoundly wonderful.

But one day I walked into The Subterranean Circus, which had long been a favorite shopping destination, only a couple of blocks from the ramshackle rooming house where I had an apartment. The Circus was where I bought my posters, waterbed, my copy of Alicia Bay Laurel’s Living on the Earth, and other counterculture essentials.

My best friend and constant companion in mischief, Lee, was with me, and together we thumbed through the Eden Gray paperback next to three Tarot decks for sale. Something deep clicked, and that was it.

He bought the Aquarian Tarot, and I got the Rider-Waite-Smith, and we rushed back to his place and started reading for each other, relying on Ms. Gray’s instructions. We immediately terrified each other.  Or rather, the cards did.

It was delicious!

So I am hereby declaring 2012 to be a year of gratitude and celebration.  I hope you’ll come along for the party!