THE ICE MELTED AND I FELL IN

I'm more convinced than ever that it was Brighid calling me just before Easter. Now, to balance that with the Quaker side, at least for now. Some folks have managed to do that. Whether that will include me in the end? Time will tell.

It helps that traditional Quakers fall outside the Catholic/Protestant split. And some of their teachings are closer Eastern Orthodox than to the western churches. What I'm trying to figure out right now is whether the some of the Celtic beliefs (ongoing creation, the presence of the holy within that creation) are unique to the Celts or if they brought them with them when the tribes moved west out of the area just west of Central Asia. I suspect that they are shared beliefs and when the western church grafted Greek and Roman philosophy onto the early church it cut off those branches. Too bad. I'm really falling in love with the picture of a continually evolving Creation.

Which brings me to Easter weekend. I'd been reading. It's kind of hard to read anything by an orthodox writer. Not because of the theology, but the constant references to people I've never heard of. The early teachers, the desert fathers (an mothers), saint so and so, blessed whoever. It's confusing but you get a real feeling of continuity. Which brings me to the family tree. There's one branch that goes back to early third century Armenia. And several great grandfathers (about four dozen times removed, probably related to most of Western Europe) helped build the church in Armenia. Far enough away from Rome to get away with being the first national church.

Then there's the branch from eleventh century Kiev. Including some prime examples of folks who were named as saints strictly for their church building activities. Because great grandmother Olga had ways of dealing with her enemies that did not include prayer and reconciliation. She was a pistol, that one. Not sure what any of them would make of me. They followed their hearts, I'm following mine.

Which brings me to Saturday before Easter. Do I get visitations contemplating the trees, birds and flowers? No, I get them sitting in car, parked in front of the credit union waiting for mom. There they were, the whole damn family. Quakers, Puritans, Russians, oh my. But, without the blue highlights of the lady on the cliff top that I believe was /is Brighid. The group has been falling off since then until there's one figure left. A shadowy gentleman who may owe more than a little to Rae Beth's cunning man and Merlin from King Arthur. So, is he here to give me holy heck for straying from the path or to lead me to a new one. Tom and Rae? I could use a little (a lot) help here.

BRIGHID'S FIRE

Brighid of the wolves,
Brighid of the wild wings,
Brighid of the fire,
Brighid of the forge,
Brighid of the song smith and the poet,
Brighid of the hearth and the meadow,
Brighid of the woods and streams,
Light my path and grant me your protection.
Blessed be from the beginning to the end of time.

I SAW HER FACE

“I don't know who she is, this woman who appears when I close my eyes. She's bathed in star light, spirit light, I'm not sure. She's standing on a headland, waves crashing on the rocks, facing into the wind, hair blown back like a cloak trying to break free. Her skirt kilted, feet sandal shod. Sometimes gulls circle overhead. Other times she has her hand on the head of a large dog or maybe it’s a wolf.

Until today I thought she was an avatar of me, my spirit sister. Now? I'm not so sure. I wonder if it's some racial memory. An ancestor. A woman born, Goddess, how many centuries ago. And where? The highlands? The Western Isles? Who are you, lady? Will I ever see your face?”


I made this entry back in February and surprise of surprises I actually got a comment on the entry and I took it to heart. The entry suggested that it might be Brighid (Bride) the triple goddess of Ireland and the Western Isles, patroness of healers, poets and craftsmen.

The choice made, she turned and looked at me. Shit, now what?????????????????? I may go knocking on the universe's door, I don't expect anyone to answer.

Since then the vision is still there, but not as strong. As if the waiting was over. Since then I’ve discovered that the wolf is one of the animals sacred to the Goddess. I guess that answers one question. Years ago, when Coldwater Creek was a lot more eclectic I fell in love with a pendant of a wolf with a pine tree and full moon. Fell in love, isn’t quite strong enough. Pulled right into the page was more like it. When my folks asked me what I wanted for my birthday I pointed to the necklace and said “please.” I have a feeling I’ll be wearing it a lot more often.

Now all I have to do is reconcile the pagan goddess with what happened over Easter Weekend. That is, if I can cobble together some kind of entry that doesn’t make it sound like I’ve tap danced right over the edge.

Brighid,

You are a woman of peace.
You bring harmony where there is conflict.
You bring light to the darkness.
You bring hope to the downcast.
May the mantle of your peace cover those who are troubled and anxious,
And may peace be firmly rooted in our hearts and in our world.
Inspire us to act justly and to reverence all God/dess has made.
Brighid, you are a voice for the wounded and the weary.
Strengthen what is weak within us,
Calm us into a quietness that heals and listens.
May we grow each day into greater wholeness in mind, body, and spirit.


Amen and Blessed Be.