Mists and Ice

This summer solstice, the bulk of our ritual was sung. It was a very fun experience, and I think the Gods enjoyed it. I know I did. More than that, I think that music has a way of touching us in ways that simple words cannot; it’s the same way with poetry, and I think this is the reason that the ancient Celts and Norse put so much of their lore into poems. In many instances, poetry was also used to curse or bless, and this, too, showed its power. Lyrics are a type of poetry, adding in music to an already powerful arrangement; we have some evidence that a number of the poems we have now were originally intended to be sung; other cultures definitely did this, such as the Greeks and the Jews.

Writing a ritual to music, however, has shown me one detriment to a Very Musical Midsummer. Music and poetry are not very descriptive; they do not often tell you why you are doing something, and it is hard to write poetry and music that tells you how to do something. Interspersed with the music, our Grove Organizer described our next course of action in prose to the gathered assembly. It certainly helped them follow the ritual, but took away somewhat from the power of the music. This is alright, of course, but it was certainly a learning experience for me. Something to keep in mind when writing poems for future rites.

The reason we put these rites on is for community and fellowship, in the presence of the Gods. Power is part of that, and so is understanding. One should not be without the other; we as Americans have a harder time, though, because we lack the cultural experience that the ancient Indo-Europeans had with their Gods and Goddesses. So prose becomes a bigger part of our rites, because that speaks more to our current culture. Not a bad thing, but it can be frustrating.

This rite was to Njord, the keeper of bounty, the God of the Seas and Rivers and what fruits come from them, from travel to fish to trade. We have already had an amazing summer so far, and our lot was increased greatly at Bealtainne. Now, our blessing comes in the form of the Seed, the Sun, and the Tree, a grand omen for the hot days ahead. The solstice marks the longest day of the year, which is a bounty in and of itself, with long days and happy evenings. When I was a child, I looked forward to June, because my bed-time was at sunset, so in May and June I was looking forward to the latest bed-times of my young life. In some ways, it’s still the case, being a school bus driver.

Music was a bounty given at Midsummer, though. Without Njord’s help, and Bragi’s, too, I think it would not have come off so well. Having a good community of attendees was also awesome, a gift given for the work we have put in to have these rites. I hope this is a blessing we see for years to come.

Our next rite is Lughnasadh, on July 31st. It should be a lot of fun; we’re planning some games and sparring matches, and we’re also going to be celebrating the Grove Organizer’s patron, which is always a plus. It will be in the Celtic style, so I think this will be a lot of fun, and very fulfilling.

Alright, so in Colorado, it’s barely spring. Bealtainne yesterday was a chill 52 degrees in the shade, maybe it got up to 60 in the sun. However, by the ancient Irish seasons and celebrations, yesterday was the first day of summer. It makes sense; even here in Denver, we won’t have as much lower temperatures and the wet season is in full swing. (On the other hand, if the US were going by Colorado seasons, Summer wouldn’t start until the end of June and would end in November!)

Summer brings bounty and hard work. Summer brings fertile crops and grand swaths of fields awash in green. America loves summer, even as many Americans loathe winter. I don’t know how different it is in other countries; I’ve never been, myself, but here, summer is the season of increase.

Imagine some of the icons of summer: lemonade, swimming, fresh pie, Fourth of July feasts and parades. In a way, all these are celebrations of increase, from fresh berries thrown in a pie to freshly-squeezed lemons and sugar. In this “Age of Information”, very few of us actually think about why we would be celebrating such things; after all, we can get lemonade in winter now! This might be a contribution to what I’ve seen as a Neopagan backlash against more modern traditions, and being so removed from the picking of the berries and the tending of the tomatoes and corn, I’m not so sure I blame them. In a modern religion based on ancient ways, I think a Romanesque approach might be wise: The city of Rome had many people who were not agricultural in the least, but in the Roman calendar, the seasons were still closely guarded and celebrated, for in those seasons lay the survival of the entire civilization. It is still so today, and some recognize that. Others, though, so far removed from the agricultural scene, have forgotten, even despite the iconic reminders right in front of them, as shown above.

Bealtainne was a time of the lighting of the bonfires, and the cattle would then be driven through the smoke to bless them for the coming summer. Why was this done? To promote increase. To combat disease and promote high volumes of milk and cheese, so that the people would be well-fed, especially the warriors. I think a lot of people forget that the early Irish people were fighters, who often raided each other for their cattle. Being well-fed, therefore, was a requirement. Also during Bealtainne, those that could grow crops were more apt to plant in the British Isles, whereas the mainland was likely to have already tilled and planted, being farther south.

An increase is seen even in the festival aspect of this time of year. At this time period, more people are apt to brave the weather and come to a festival, or to marry (I cannot count the number of May weddings I know of!), or to attend another such type of event. Parades and block parties are all over the papers starting a little before Memorial Day. Even our own group saw a radical increase this year at Bealtainne: 34 attendees! I was impressed. And more than a little scared, considering I was the officiant that day, but I am very happy that everyone seemed to have a good time.

The blessings from the Gods were all a show of increase this Bealtainne, letting us know that they would be present, that we could continue to come together, and that we would be aided in the problems we faced. This was a wonderful omen, I thought. Of course, I also got an increase of sunburn, but that’s okay.

It was wonderful being able to celebrate the increase of summer. I’m hoping that our next ritual, Midsummer, grants similar blessings.

I’ve been playing a lot of Tafl lately. This is, of course, not surprising, as I am somewhat of a fan of chess and chess-like games. Games like Hnefatafl come from the Northern Germanic tradition, Scandinavia, specifically, and possibly date from as early as 400 AD (though perhaps not; see Tafl: An Obsession or the write-up in Wikipedia for more information). They are also one of the most well-documented cases for Celtoi-Germanic cross-culture interaction, as there are versions in Ireland (Brandub), Scotland (Ard Ri), and Wales (Tawlbwrdd or Gwyddbwyll). There are some scholars that believe the Irish Fidchell game was a Tafl variant, but I’m not so sure, and it really doesn’t matter too much – after all, the Irish now have a Tafl variant called “Fitchneall”, which is their word now for chess.

There are strong pieces of culture in all these games, hidden for those that wish to look. The greater number of attackers versus defenders, the goal of capture or escape, and the method of capturing pieces all bespeak reenactments of ancient battles, a major part of life in that time period. The positioning of the attackers around the defenders is a noticeable difference from our modern chess games, which have all one’s pieces start on one side of the board. One can imagine in the Hnefatafl version four Viking ships surrounding a village to capture the king for ransom. In ADF spirituality, all this is important, not because we’re interested in war and battles, but because of the link to the type of culture that conceived of and produced this game. Even if Fidchell is not a Tafl variant, one can imagine Cuchulain studying one of these boards, determining how to strike in order to win. The ability to win at such games was considered to show an uncommonly sharp mind in Ireland, and the Norse sagas mention several times a particular Tafl-player’s prowess being indicative of a strong character. Wisdom and intelligence were as prized as a strong arm and keen wit.

We are uncertain if Tafl was used as divination, as there is no evidence for or against the practice, but we know that Fidchell was sometimes used for this purpose. Sometimes the battle on the Fidchell board played out upon the battlefield; sometimes, the losses of battle caused the Fidchell game to play itself. Separation of the game from the ancient Celtic religion was about as possible as separating farming or spinning yarn – that is to say, everything was both a physical and a spiritual act. In the playing of these cultural games of skill, we can tap into the cultural awareness of that time period; moreover, we can become aware ourselves of the spiritual mindset of those ancient players, that even in play, their world-view was closely considered. Magic was powerful in the Celtic and Germanic mindsets, and manifested sometimes in very mundane ways, such as the pieces on a Tafl board.

I’m thinking of making a set of Tafl boards for SBGH, to use at the Lughnasadh games and other feasting times. The chance to enjoy a cultural game to keep us in the mindset of our ancestors is just too good to pass up.

I should probably write about the rite and how it went so well this time around, or even how proud I am of our group that we have made it one year as of that day. Instead, however, my mind comes to what makes a truly great rite, what truly brings the people of ADF and Neopagans in general together.

Neopagans seem to generally have a love of all things artistic. Whether it be poetry or prose, literature holds a special place in our hearts, especially the Neopagans in ADF. Music pulls us deep within the sense of community that we seek together, much in the same way an old hymn sung on the hill where it was written can bring together disparate tourists. There is something deeper than Christianity, deeper than Paganism, or indeed any expression of faith in our use of the arts.

Rituals employing poetry, drama, or music, or a combination of these, seem to me to have a stronger pull to them; they seem more real and seem to have more energy to them. Are the Gods more pleased with artistic expression than simple rote? Perhaps, but it might also be likely that these elements, this artistry that we place within our rituals are a conduit to the higher and the unseen powers of the world, something that makes it easier to connect to and speak with the Gods and the spirits. For the world of spirit is a world of the unseen, the emotional and the logical both, and moreover the mysterious and irrational. Some things can be better explained through song than through paragraphs.

No ritual, in my mind, is complete without the connection to and acknowledgment of the Gods and spirits. I have attended many rituals, some with Gods invoked, some with Gods invited, some without Gods at all, but the ones that included the spirit world as a true and real entity, Gods or not, were the ones that truly had the most weight with me. Sometimes, a rite is great not because of its poetry or its artistry, but because of its inclusion of the spirits and its power to connect to that world. In fact, one might think of it as a prerequisite to being a good ritual.

People may or may not include the time after a worship service as part of it, but I think our ADF groves’ traditions of having a pot luck after ritual is as important as the ritual itself. At the ancient days of feasting in the Indo-European traditions, the holidays would last literally days, including several rites, feasting, and fellowship with the community. As Neopagans become more numerous, I think we yearn for a sense of that in the modern day, as well; community feasting, therefore, brings the attendees of a rite even closer together, as they chat about things that are important to them. At this most recent ritual, for example, I heard a number of wonderful conversations happening, from discussing sleep-overs at well-known pagan authors’ places, to telling stories about how one came to Neopaganism, to bursting into song from almost out of nowhere, which I know myself and several others of the protogrove enjoyed listening to. We talked about language and poetry and modern politics; it doesn’t matter what we talked about, but that we spoke to one another and formed the bonds of friendship and fellowship that I feel are essential in any religious community.

And now, perhaps, I shall end with what I am “supposed” to, but it comes from this musing and the considerations above: I am extremely glad to have come to Denver, met with the people of ADF here, and had a wonderful year of rituals so far. I hope that we continue to have these great rituals for years to come; rituals that honor the Gods and spirits and our symbiotic relationships with them; rituals that continue to have great poetry, song, and insight within them. Oh, and the WONDERFUL food and discussions afterwards!!!

-G

The February meet-up is tomorrow. The topic will start off with Spring Myths, and will likely move on as things tend to do. As events such as this approach, I am reminded of why these things are important in one’s spiritual life.

Neopaganism is in turns a very personal and a very social form of religion. In the personal arena, there is a lot less guidance and (dare I say) dogma to usher those new to the religion in a spiritually profitable direction. There are few elders in the religion compared to others, which gives rise to a lot of self-initiation, self-dedication, and even self-declaration. In such an environment, we become free to make our own choices and do our own research on how to believe and proceed with that belief. Individuality is cherished rather than alienated; self-reflection and meditation are encouraged as paths to growth. Of course, the downside is, we have our share of “gurus” and “masters” of the art that do more harm than good to this set of religions.

On the social side of things, in the days when the religions we currently emulate and draw inspiration from were practiced, religion was a matter for the tribe and for the nation. People came together at regular intervals to mark the passing of the seasons, give offerings, and ask for boons of the Gods. In many ways, this need for interaction with others who believe similarly to ourselves has not diminished. Some Wiccan covens try to collect in groups of 9-13 members. Neopagans of many types and stripes attend Pagan Pride Day, local events, even conventions half a world away. Many pagans learn that there is a viable path other than a Judeo/Christian/Muslim one by talking with other pagans. Some only realize that the religion is right for them after attending and experiencing Neopagan ritual (a few close friends of mine admit to this).

One’s world-view and belief system is something that can tie us together in a way few other social gatherings can, whether that gathering be a full ritual or a simple meeting over coffee and biscuits. Sometimes, one can feel closer to the others that are in a group due to like-mindedness, or even – as Neopaganism has shown – just open-mindedness to others’ beliefs. Sometimes, we learn something new that jives with how we believe, something we then incorporate into our own system. Sometimes, we just enjoy being together as a community.