Don't make a New Year's resolution. Listen to what the trees have to tell you. And follow their advice!
It’s January. Like the two-headed Roman God Janus, for whom the month is named, this is the time when we look back to the year just passed and forward to the year just begun.
Two weeks ago, I led a Winter Solstice ritual at Meg’s Inspirations, a gift shop and spiritual boutique in Manchester, CT, where I live. Here in the Northern Hemisphere, the Winter Solstice marks the longest night of the year. Festivities celebrate the promise that the Sun is on his way back to us. Though the ground here is frozen, and the season of snow, sleet and ice is picking up speed, this is a time of hope. The sun, whether you spell is Sun or Son, has been “reborn.”
Let me set the scene for the ritual. There were 14 women, seated in a semi-circle in front of two, long banquet tables placed end to end. The tables were draped in red and white cloth. Thanks to Meg and her husband, Ed, we had at least 30 Yule logs, some cut to lay horizontally, some cut as pillars, some with white tea lights, some with red, green, or white tapers. The logs stretched across both tables, along with garlands of artificial winter greens and an abundant, aromatic layer of pine, cedar, and holly that Meg had cut just that morning. Along with the Yule logs, I had an assortment of tabletop trees, and hundreds of white fairy lights and crystal snow. …We dimmed the overhead lights and imagined we had entered a magical forest.
Sometimes, the smallest gesture can convey a feeling of abundance. That’s a lesson I learned from my daughter when she was a teenager working at a candy counter. … Abundance. That’s what this episode, #26, is all about.
When my daughter, Laurie Neronha, was in high school, she worked part-time at the candy counter in a fancy department store in Hartford. She didn’t drive yet so I had provided transportation. I arrived early one day. So I watched as she helped several customers, thinking maybe I could give her a few customer service pointers later.
Each customer one ordered a pound of gourmet jelly beans. Laurie was not the only employee on the candy counter. An older woman worked there as well. She seemed pleasant enough and, from what I overheard, had been with the store quite a few years. I watched her scoop jelly beans, too.
It didn’t take long to see that Laurie and the other woman had each developed a different technique. The difference explained why some customers would politely decline the other woman’s offer of help and wait in line for Laurie.
A pregnant bride in her early thirties didn’t want to carry a bouquet and asked me if she had to. I assured her there was no requirement that she carry flowers. I also explained why she might want to reconsider her decision. I wrote about that wedding several years ago and drew on the story for part of Episode 25 of the Ritual Recipes podcast.
To carry a wedding bouquet isn’t just about the fashion or the flowers or the photo op.
In this wedding, both the bride and the groom had big jobs in the financial world and would be traveling overseas on business the following week. Any kind of travel can be hazardous to a woman who’s pregnant. International travel while pregnant can be even more of a challenge. Just in case a problem arose while they were out of the country, they wanted to be married.
In the previous episode, #23, I talked about my late-friend Mechi Garza, a Choctaw-Cherokee Medicine woman. One of the things Mechi taught me was that there is a difference between being cured and being healed. Being cured is about the body. Being healed is about the spirit.
Thanks to the International Women’s Writing Guild, Mechi and I had hundreds of mutual friends. Liz Aleshire was one of them. … I want to tell you about a life-changing event that happened in the months before she died.
In August of 2008, I gathered with five other mutual friends — all women, all writers. One of us, Judy, had a home on Cape Cod big enough to accommodate all of us for the weekend. We were there, laptops in tow, to work on Liz’s manuscript. The book was to be a tribute to her son, Nathan. He had died thirteen years earlier of bone cancer. He was sixteen.
Liz was a journalist and multi-published writer of nonfiction and children’s books, some under the name Liz Greenbacker. She knew what it took to write a book, especially under a tight deadline. Reluctantly, she had called Sourcebooks in mid-June to ask for a one-month extension since the June 30 deadline wasn’t realistic. Her editor, Shana Drehs, extended the contract. ….. But Liz didn’t tell Shana how bad things really were.
Years ago, I wrote about this experience. I've drawn on that blog post to create this episode of the podcast. The event remains key to my understanding of the power of ritual. ~ Rest in peace, Grandmother Mechi.
Mechi Garza's installation as a Choctaw-Cherokee Medicine Woman
Little Elk, schooled in the healing ways of the Pueblo, she was his destiny. He knew from a childhood vision that before he died he was to anoint a Medicine Woman, but she wouldn't be Pueblo. She'd be Cherokee.
To Lothar, she was the woman he had loved centuries ago, the woman he sought again in this life. Night after night, he woke her from her sleep, instructing her to transcribe the knowledge of his world, a place dismissed by many as the stuff of myth and imagination. It took five years of such nightly sessions. She filled countless notebooks he called “The Manuals.” He said the knowledge could save this world from the same fate as his, Atlantis. Lothar taught her Kolaemni, a method of healing using therapeutic touch. The word itself means “connecting with the light.”
One summer evening back in 2005, I had driven to New Hampshire to meet with a small group of friends to study astrology and Goddess spirituality. As we did twice a month, on or near the New and then the Full Moon, we would spend several hours at the kitchen table, notebooks open, pens in hand, learning about the stars and planets and signs of the zodiac.
Then we would leave everything on the table and head outside. We were in the woods, well off the beaten track. The couple at whose home we gathered had built a sizable circle behind the house. To enter the circle, we walked down a path lined with lanterns on shepherd’s hooks. At the end of the path, we crossed under an arch covered in a profusion of white flowers or a tangle of bare branches, depending on the season.
The Wheel of the Year turns, plunging us deeper into the dark half of the year. It’s Halloween. Samhain. The ground is fertile for growing fears. Between the worlds of the living and the dead, the border blurs. Connecting with the spirit world is easier than at other times of the year. Anyone traveling those worlds needs a guide to cross the threshold. Animal totems are always helpful.
Last night, I lead a Samhain ritual at Meg’s Inspirations, a local gift shop and spiritual boutique here in Manchester, CT. I’ve been leading seasonal rituals at Meg’s for many years. One year, we created an ancestor altar. Another year, we explored various means of divination.
Last year, I created a ritual around animals as spirit guides. My original plan was to draw an animal oracle card and explore connections between the animal’s message and what we knew, or wanted to know, about an ancestor. But three days earlier, 11 people were massacred at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, PA. So I invited those at the ritual to create a blessing for the dead based on the animal that had chosen them. Here are a few of those blessings:
May the bear guide them through the darkest nights.
May the dog protect all they hold sacred.
May the eagle bring them courage to see through adversity.
Selecting the members of the wedding party can be so stressful, some couples don’t choose anyone. No maid of honor. No best man. After serving more than 150 couples as their wedding officiant, I’ve seen what this kind of stress can do. Friendships dissolve. Family tensions grow. A bridesmaid who thought she should be the maid-of-honor finds a way to draw attention to herself during the ceremony.
According to The Knot, the average size of a wedding party is ten. That usually means five on each side. That number might be higher if couples had no restrictions; but, most couples do have restrictions.
If you’re the one getting married, you know how agonizing it can be to choose the members of your wedding party. If you have extended an invitation and been turned down, you know how disappointing that can be. For either scenario, contributing issues can be money, distance, health, time, trying to meet family expectations, trying to avoid family drama.
To honor those special guests who are not in the wedding party, couples are often advised to make them ushers or have then pass out programs. Please! Don’t honor a guest with a boring task! Give him or her a meaningful role in the ceremony. How? Through a ritual. Continue reading →
Jars of artificial fireflies on the banks of the Summer Solstice river
This year’s Summer Solstice has come and gone. But our entry into the dark half of the year has just begun.
My European ancestors divided the year into two seasons, summer and winter. The Summer Solstice was known as Midsummer. People felt joy that the Sun had warmed the earth so they could plant and now their crops were growing. If all went well, the harvest season would be bountiful.
At the same time, they felt anxiety. From now on, each day would be shorter than the one before. Would there still be enough light to grow food? Or would they starve? Would there be enough heat to say warm? Or would they freeze? Once winter took hold of the land, would it ever leave? It’s no wonder the ancients held celebrations to honor the sun, and to plead for its return.
This year, as I’ve done for more than ten years, I led a Solstice ritual at Meg’s Inspirations, a gift shop and spiritual boutique in Manchester, Connecticut. This year, I explored the energy of the Cancer-Capricorn polarity. Continue reading →
Fairies, flowers, fertility, a Maypole, and a hawthorn tree. They all weave their way into the Celtic festival of Beltane and other seasonal festivals so common in the Old World. On episode 18 of the Ritual Recipes podcast, I talk about the public ritual I created to celebrate Beltane here in central Connecticut where I live. It was about shadow gifts from the Beltane fairies, something we might need in order to be our authentic selves.
I also touch on the story of Bloddeuwedd (“bluh DIE weth”), the woman created from nine ingredients by two magicians determined to make the perfect bride for a young man who’d been cursed. I add my own two cents based on the magical meaning behind each of the ingredients. I talk about violence, punishment, and the dramatic transformation Bloddeuwedd goes through, first becoming an owl, then Goddess of the Hawthorn. You see, as that perfect bride, things went well…for a while…until she met another man and fell in love.
But first…What is ritual? To me, ritual is a visible act performed with
invisible intent. If you’ve ever made a wish and blown out the candles on a
birthday cake, you’ve performed a ritual.
It can be that simple. It can
also be more elaborate, a real community celebration.
THE HAWTHORN TREE
Earlier this year, I led a public ritual to celebrate Beltane. It
wasn’t feasible to erect an actual Maypole, so I designed the ritual around the
magical properties of the hawthorn tree, well known as the home of the
fairies.
Hawthorn tree in bloom.
The hawthorn is a relatively small tree, known to live for a long time,
some as long as 400 years. The hawthorn has a lot of foliage, making it an
ideal home for birds as well as fairies.
Hawthorn (Crataegus) tree blooming in springtime.
In the spring, the hawthorn blooms with a profusion of small white
flowers. The stamens have bright pink heads. Some accounts of the hawthorn
describe the scent as particularly female. In the old days, a bride would carry
a sprig of flowering hawthorn on her wedding day to symbolize her desire for a
fruitful union.
When summer comes, each hawthorn flower produces a fruit called a “haw.”
In autumn, the haws turn bright red.
They look like little apples. The tree becomes a banquet for the birds.
Since birds were known to carry messages to the Spirit World, a tree
that fed them was sacred. In addition to
the “haws,” the tree also has thorns, hence the name, haw-thorn.
My Celtic ancestors likely believed that wherever you find the oak, ash
and hawthorn trees together, you can be sure the fairies are nearby. In fact,
fairies are said to live beneath the hawthorn itself. The tree was considered
so sacred that it was a serious crime to cut one down.
That might seem extreme until you realize that when the deceased were
buried, their spirits would travel to the Underworld. From there, those spirits
– now called Ancestors – would guide and protect the living back here in the
mundane world. The fairies kept the connections between the worlds alive. So, it
you destroyed the home of the fairies, you severed the connection to your
ancestors and all hope of their guidance and protection. Not prudent, to say
the least.
THE MAY QUEEN, THE GODDESS BLODDEUWEDD
There’s another reason why a community would revere a hawthorn tree. In his book, The White Goddess, author Robert Graves writes that the Hawthorn is protected by a goddess, Bloddeuwedd, known as the May Queen. Bloddeuwedd was created by the magicians Math and Gwydion from nine different ingredients, most of them plants, trees, or flowers: oak, meadowsweet, broom, cockle, bean, nettle, chestnut, primrose, and hawthorn.
A quick look into A Compendium of
Herbal Magick by Paul Beyerl is illuminating. While each of the nine
flowers and trees has many attributes, here are a few I found that seem to fit
the creation of a perfect bride, from the viewpoint of the male magicians. (Of
course, not having been a male magician, I’m just guessing.) Some of the attributes
are from Beyerl, some from A Modern
Herbal by Mrs. M. Grieve, and others.
Oak: for fertility and long life.
Subtext: She won’t die in childbirth.
Meadowsweet: for acquiring a merry heart, with extra joy and blessings
to a new bride. Subtext. Meadowsweet for
a wife who won’t nag.
Broom: for good fortune and for accepting the changes that life brings.
Upon further investigation, I saw subtext about broom, too. Might it have been
added to ensure the bride would keep a clean house?
Cockle: As I mention in the podcast, I didn’t find any reference to a flower or plant or tree named cockle. So I must assume the inclusion of cockle in the concoction used to create Bloddeuwedd referred to the shellfish, believed by many to be an aphrodisiac. Makes sense.
Bean: for male virility. More subtext. If Bloddeuwedd was created to
be the perfect bride and one of her ingredients was to enhance male virility,
does that make her a form of Viagra?
Nettle: for healing. Having someone in the family know how to heal would
certainly be a benefit. Subtext: She will be able to care for him when he’s
ill, wounded, and old.
Chestnut: for male potency. Further reading about the chestnut associate
it with humility, with finding satisfaction in little things. Subtext: a perfect wife won’t demand a lot of
his attention.
Primrose: for inner and outer beauty.
Self-explanatory.
Hawthorn: for female sexuality.
Yes, there were plenty of other attributes of the hawthorn I could have
mentioned here; but, I find this one key to the story of Bloddeuwedd’s journey
to becoming her authentic self.
The magicians created Bloddeuwedd to be the bride of a young man, Llew.
His mother had abandoned him and cursed him, saying he would never wed a mortal
woman. (That’s a story for another time.) The magicians wanted Llew to be happy. Hence,
the creation of Bloddeuwedd who was said to possess in abundance every trait
and feature a man would want in a wife.
As planned, Llew marries Bloddeuwedd. Married life seems okay … for a while…until she meets another man. As the story goes, Bloddeuwedd comes alive in a way she’s never known before. My guess is she had her first orgasm, apparently not something the magicians thought to ensure Llew could give.
As the tale unfolds, she and her lover kill Llew. The authorities come after her. The magician Gwydion overtakes her and turns her into a white owl. (Picture a white owl with a round face, sometimes called a flower-faced owl. The name Bloddeuwedd also means flower-faced.)
Barn Owl with round “flower” face.
That chapter in Bloddeuwedd’s story could explain why some people associate owls with death. I think a more fitting association is that of the woman who embraces the death of her old “self,” one defined by others, in favor of a new self, one who doesn’t fear being alone, one who finds wisdom in her experiences, one who realizes beauty is fleeting, one who discovers her own inner power, even if embracing that power means she will live a solitary life. Think of Sansa at the end of Game of Thrones. I won’t say any more in case you haven’t seen it yet. But I will say the stories of both Sansa and Bloddeuwedd show powerful personal transformation at great cost. Both stories are about gaining wisdom and the early concept of the virgin — the one who is whole unto herself.
I also wonder if Gwydion himself loved Bloddeuwedd, perhaps the way a parent loves a child. Maybe he sought to capture her so that he could determine her fate. On the website druidry.org, the ancient meaning for Bloddeuwedd is said to be owl, symbol of wisdom. Did Gwydion set her apart from other birds so that only the worthy, strong, and pure of heart would recognize her gifts? I’m simply speculating. Did I tell you that when I was in the seventh grade, I was crowned the May Queen? Or that the first gift my now-husband gave to me some 40 years ago was a necklace with a gold owl?
TREES
Trees in general play a key role in Celtic mythology. In fact, their
calendar is based on trees with May being the 6th month, running from what we would calculate as
approximately May 13 to June 9. The tree
that represents May is, of course, the hawthorn.
Trees were also used to develop an alphabet, with letters formed by
placing branches in certain formations. That alphabet is spelled o.g.h.a.m and
is pronounced “OH-um.” The hawthorn tree
is symbolized by the 6th consonant. It’s spelled h.u.a.t.h.e (or
simply u.a.t.h.) and pronounced “HOO-ah.”
The hawthorn tree, so important to the fairies and the ancestors carries
the energy of cleansing and preparing, both things and thoughts. Simply being
near a Hawthorn is said to invite stillness and clear the mind. Some say people
feel more patient when near a hawthorn.
The hawthorn also symbolizes hope. Early Christian stories suggest the
thorns of the hawthorn were used on the head of Christ at his crucifixion. My guess is that different communities
embrace different stories. Perhaps it was that Christian story that inspired
the Pilgrims, back in 1602, to sail on a ship named Mayflower. Or maybe it was because they knew they’d need to have
patience for the long voyage.
I wasn’t on the Mayflower, at
least not that I remember, but I’m sure the stars were an important tool in
navigation. Legend says that the Welsh Goddess Olwen, known as the White
Goddess of the Hawthorn Tree, once walked through the empty universe trailing
white hawthorn petals. The petals became the Milky Way. That’ just one of many beautiful star stories.
THE BELTANE RITUAL
For this year’s
Beltane ritual, needed four fairies, one for each of the four directions.
Fortunately, there were four girls at the ritual, preteens and young teens.
With their mothers’ permission, I gave each girl a basket of ribbons. The
ribbons in each basket were about 18 inches long, all one color.
The Fairy of the
East represented air. Her ribbons were yellow.
The Fairy of the
South represented fire. Her ribbons were red.
The Fairy of the
West represented water. Her ribbons were blue.
The Fairy of the
North represented earth. Her ribbons were green.
I talked about how Fairies live under the hawthorn tree and how they had
come to our ritual to give each participant three gifts, each gift symbolized
by the color of the ribbon.
I asked each Fairy to describe the gift embodied in her ribbon. Prior to
the ritual, I had typed this information on individual cards. All each Fairy
had to do now was read from the card.
The East Fairy, with yellow ribbons
representing air said: To think and
speak with clarity, by fairy magick it shall be!
The South Fairy, with red ribbons representing
fire said: For courage bright, for energy, by fairy
magick it shall be!
The West Fairy, with blue ribbons representing
water said: For compassion,
forgiveness and mystery, by fairy magick it shall be!
The North Fairy, with green ribbons
representing earth said: For growth
and for prosperity, by fairy magick it shall be!
Three gifts. Four fairies. I’ll
get back to that in a moment.
I held the ritual at Meg’s Inspirations, a local gift shop and spiritual
boutique in Manchester CT, where I live. I told everyone that if we were
holding the ritual next to a hawthorn tree, we would imbue our ribbons with our
intent, our honest intent, and spear each ribbon on one of the thorns – because
the thorns are blessed with fairy magick. Instead, I improvised with an
umbrella stand filled with long, skinny branches, some from a local crafts
store, some from the nature center near my home. These branches did not have
thorns.
Each person picked ribbons from three fairies. We talked about
the gifts we’d chosen and how we would use them in our lives.
Then I asked everyone to think of the ribbon they did not pick. I suggested that the gift not chosen –
the shadow gift – might well be the gift most needed. I said to them:
Go now to your fourth fairy and receive your shadow ribbon. Think about it carefully. If you’re ready to
explore the magick offered by that fairy’s gift, then hang the ribbon on the
hawthorn tree.
On the night of the ritual, I didn’t tell the
story of Bloddeuwedd. But I do invite you now to remember the struggle and the power
of being your authentic self.
We spent time sharing our thoughts about our
shadow ribbon. We speculated about the gift we might find in the shadow. Most
of us speculated silently. Some things are too private, too raw, to share.
That’s okay. The transformation of a ritual doesn’t always happen in the
moment.
TERROR
In her book, Voice of the Trees, a
companion book to an oracle deck, author and illustrator Mickie Mueller shares
ways to work with the messages the trees have for us. When she writes about the
hawthorn, she notes that the Celtic name, huathe, “HOO-ah,” means
“terror.” The oracle card for the hawthorn warns of obstacles along the path,
or tension of some kind. Mueller says
you don’t apply force when encountering the obstacle. It will eventually yield
a gift, but wisdom is needed first. (Think
of Bloddeuwedd!) Of course, I don’t
think it’s a good idea to apply force when dealing with any plant that has
thorns.
MAKING FAIRIES
WITH MY HUSBAND
The Fairies of Beltane are coming!
I’ve been leading seasonal rituals at Meg’s
for over 10 years. A month or so before the ritual, Meg enthusiastically
announces “The Fairies of Beltane are coming!” We always get a good turnout.
That’s because everyone knows that if they come to the ritual, they get to take
home one of the fairies. So every year, I make new fairies.
About six weeks before each Beltane ritual, I
pull out my craft supplies. First, I
paint wooden balls and cones for the multicultural heads and bodies. Then I add
artificial flowers, beads, scraps of leather, feathers, glitter, whatever calls
to me in the moment.
Three years ago, I recruited my husband to
help me paint the wooden heads and bodies. He had such a good time he helped me
paint fairies again the following year. This year was different. The
Alzheimer’s Disease is advancing. Instead of painting, he lined up the finished
fairies on the dining room table so I could take photos.
My husband helped me paint Beltane fairies.
People who have attended several of my
Beltane rituals tell me they have their fairies on a desk, a shelf, a dresser,
a dashboard. I have one on the windowsill above the kitchen sink. I see her
every day, many times. When I do, I’m reminded of how I gather each May with
friends, some I’ve known for many years, some I’ve just met. I’ve celebrated Beltane
in a welcoming gift shop, on the beach, in a basement, and in a clearing in the
woods. I’ve filled baskets with flowers and planted flowers around a sacred garden.
I’ve brought a potluck offering to a Beltane feast, and danced the Maypole with
dozens of friends. It’s been years since
I’ve done some of those activities. Seeing my little Beltane fairy brings back
all the memories, especially the memories of painting fairies with my husband.
SUMMER SOLSTICE
A few weeks
later, I led another seasonal ritual, this time to celebrate the Summer
Solstice, a time often referred to as Midsummer. In many parts of Europe, what
we think of as a Maypole was also part of Midsummer festivities.
Flowers are a key element of both Beltane and
Midsummer. In her book, Midsummer: Magical Celebrations of the Summer
Solstice, author Anna Franklin talks about the long-held custom in Britain
of placing flowers on the largest stone on a farm. Then and now, stones
symbolize the realm of the ancestors.
I’m reminded of “worry stones,” the pocket-sized
stones with a thumb-sized indentation just right for rubbing. I don’t doubt the
physical act of rubbing the stone can help ease a troubled mind. Next time,
while you’re rubbing the stone, ask your ancestors, the known and the unknown,
to help you. The addition of adding that intent creates a ritual. It can be as simple as that. I’ll tell you
about the Summer Solstice ritual on the next episode.
Until then, how about you? Are you ready to connect with the cycles of nature? Honor the spirit of the ancestors? Discover the patterns of your life? Establish
your own family traditions? Be transformed? Are you ready to do something to add positive energy to
the world., I hope so. The world needs what you have to give.
How do you use rituals? Did anything about the
story of Bloddeuweth resonate with you?
Send an email to: zita@moonriverrituals.com
or connect with me on Instagram (ZitaChristian) or Facebook
(MoonRiverRituals).
Let me set the scene for the ritual. There were 14 women, seated in a semi-circle in front of two, long banquet tables placed end to end. The tables were draped in red and white cloth. Thanks to Meg and her husband, Ed, we had at least 30 Yule logs, some cut to lay horizontally, some cut as pillars, some with white tea lights, some with red, green, or white tapers. The logs stretched across both tables, along with garlands of artificial winter greens and an abundant, aromatic layer of pine, cedar, and holly that Meg had cut just that morning. Along with the Yule logs, I had an assortment of tabletop trees, and hundreds of white fairy lights and crystal snow. …We dimmed the overhead lights and imagined we had entered a magical forest. 
One summer evening back in 2005, I had driven to New Hampshire to meet with a small group of friends to study astrology and Goddess spirituality. As we did twice a month, on or near the New and then the Full Moon, we would spend several hours at the kitchen table, notebooks open, pens in hand, learning about the stars and planets and signs of the zodiac. 
The Wheel of the Year turns, plunging us deeper into the dark half of the year. It’s Halloween. Samhain. The ground is fertile for growing fears. Between the worlds of the living and the dead, the border blurs. Connecting with the spirit world is easier than at other times of the year. Anyone traveling those worlds needs a guide to cross the threshold. Animal totems are always helpful. 
