Thursday, March 20, 2014

March 20: Eostre and arguin' with the Archetypal Mother

March 20

The Vernal Equinox

According to the 8th century Christian historian Bede, the pre-Christian Germanic peoples of England celebrated the fertility based ancient earth-mother rituals around the time of the Vernal Equinox.  Jacob Grimm, the famous folklorist and philologist, had the following speculations about the rituals attending the goddess:
Ostara, Eástre seems therefore to have been the divinity of the radiant dawn, of upspringing light, a spectacle that brings joy and blessing, whose meaning could be easily adapted by the resurrection-day of the christian's God. Bonfires were lighted at Easter and according to popular belief of long standing, the moment the sun rises on Easter Sunday morning, he gives three joyful leaps, he dances for joy ... Water drawn on the Easter morning is, like that at Christmas, holy and healing ... here also heathen notions seems to have grafted themselves on great christian festivals. Maidens clothed in white, who at Easter, at the season of returning spring, show themselves in clefts of the rock and on mountains, are suggestive of the ancient goddess.(1)



 These speculations are now up for debate among scholars.  I see the goddess Eostre or Ostara [or perhaps Astarte] as a representation of the Archetypal Mother, who in that form was repressed in some measure for a long time.  The Archetypal mother has seen a lot of debate in the psychological and political-psychological world especially in the 20th and 21st century.  Perhaps Jung depicted her in a largely negative light, as Dr. Joan Relke points out in her work The Archetypal Female in Mythology and Religion:  the Anima and Mother of the Earth and Sky.  :
For Jung, the transition from unconscious life to conscious life in the development of humanity and the individual is mirrored in the separation of the child from the mother: “the first creative act of liberation [of the unconscious] is matricide” (Jung, 1954c, p.96). For art and mythology, this means the projection of this “first creative act” into the slaying of the dragon, the symbol of the unconscious and animal sides of our nature, and to some extent the control of the “chaotic urge to life”, the anima.
She goes on to say:
So for Jung, the archetypal mother represents something that we must pull away from, something with which we were once united, allowing us no individual identity. The necessity of separating from the real mother and moving into independent consciousness is projected into myths about the destruction of the divine mother, who, if not destroyed, as a “thrall of nature” threatens to devour and destroy us by keeping us unconscious. In Jung’s world, the divine mother, and to some extent, the anima, tie us to our unconscious origins: to our animal instincts for bodily survival and procreation.
Naturally, she observes that modern feminists and feminist psychoanalysts have rejected this as outdated and radically un-sophisticated view of the mother archetype.  Not surprisingly, some of these scholars and observers have also tended to shred Patriarchy and Archetypal Masculinity, in what some might see as a kind of tit-for-tat [sorry , I had to invoke an inappropriate pun] war, perhaps justified after thousands of years of Patriarichal hegemony in gender politics.   Dr. Relke supports a nuanced view of the overall look of the Mother Goddess Archetype:
In exploring these female archetypes, we see the interrelation of the three realms. The mother is both conscious protector, spiritual guide, and nurturer, while at the same time the unconscious forces of birth and death, life and destruction. The anima lurks in the unconscious, wielding her supernatural power to drive our lives either towards mystical knowledge, consciousness and individuation, or towards oblivion in sensual urges. The sky mothers and animas can transcend the body and ego, but in so many myths, they crave balance through the experience of the underworld, the unconscious drives of the instincts and the non-rational, and through this unity, express a balanced whole. (2)

My gloss on the subject is that we tend to project our relationship with our own actual mothers onto the Archetype, or use her as a thankless battleground (like the actual earth) for political warfare.  So we see destroyer, harlot, sacred guide and nurturer, smotherer, coach, friend.


Whatever the relationship with the mother, it seems to make sense to honor, if not obey, and to love, and if love is out of reach,  forgiveness [though easier said than done sometimes] is right wise.  And besides, hopefully we can all be grateful for the lovely flowering of the earth, and warming weather that comes with Spring.
(3)

(1) Wikipedia:  Eostre.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ostara
(2) Dr. Joan Relke, The Archetypal Female in Mythology and Religion:  the Anima and Mother of the Earth and Sky.http://ejop.psychopen.eu/article/view/401/300
(3) Image from Old Farmer's Almanac.  http://www.almanac.com/content/first-day-spring-vernal-equinox





 

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

March 19: Now Spring Has Clad the Grove in Green

Now Spring Has Clad The Grove In Green


Now spring has clad the grove in green,
And strew'd the lea wi' flowers;
The furrow'd, waving corn is seen
Rejoice in fostering showers:
While ilka thing in nature join
Their sorrows to forego,
O why thus all alone are mine
The weary steps of woe?

The trout in yonder wimpling burn
That glides, a silver dart,
And safe beneath the shady thorn
Defies the angler's art --
My life was ance that careless stream,
That wanton trout was I;
But love, wi' unrelenting beam,
Has scorch'd my fountains dry.

The little flow'ret's peaceful lot,
In yonder cliff that grows,
Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot,
Nae ruder visit knows,
Was mine; till love has o'er me past,
And blighted a' my bloom,
And now beneath the with'ring blast
My youth and joy consume.

The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs,
And climbs the early sky,
Winnowing blythe her dewy wings
In morning's rosy eye:
As little reckt I sorrow's power,
Until the flowery snare
O' witching love, in luckless hour,
Made me the thrall o' care.

O had my fate been Greenland snows,
Or Afric's burning zone,
Wi' man and nature leagu'd my foes,
So Peggy ne'er I'd known!
The wretch whase doom is, "hope nae mair,"
What tongue his woes can tell!
Within whase bosom, save despair,
Nae kinder spirits dwell.

Monday, March 17, 2014

March 18: the Bleeding Tree and the Fisher King


March 18, the beginning of Fearn, the Alder Month of the Celtic Calendar.



I am a shining tear of the sun-the ogham glyph attributed to Fearn, the Alder month-from the Song of Amergin. (1).

According to some Celtic scholars, some  Celts in Britain and Ireland used a lunar calendar where each of the lunar months were named for a sacred Celtic tree.  The Alder is a sacred tree associated with the hero Bran and with male blood rising. According to JM Patterson:
In ancient Greece Cronos was represented by an alder tree. In Norse legends March was known as the ‘lengthening month of the waking alder’. In Irish legend the first human male was created from alder, and the first female from rowan. Alder’s burning qualities have always been prized amongst metal workers and smiths. It was known for its hot charcoal. As a tree which ‘bleeds’, alder is bound up in the legends of the Rollright stones in Oxfordshire where the King Stone, which stands alone, was once reputedly associated with a grove of alder trees.

The Alder was a part of a mythic battle of trees according to the highly controversial and historically questionable book The White Goddess, by Robert Graves.:
 In Cormac's tenth-century Glossary of obsolete terms the alder is called ro-eim, which is glossed as 'that which reddens the face': from which it may be deduced that the 'crimson-stained heroes' of the Welsh Triads, who were sacred kings, were connected with Bran's alder cult. One reason for the alder's sanctity is that when it is felled the wood, at first white, seems to bleed crimson, as though it were a man… But principally the alder is the tree of fire, the power of fire to free the earth from water; and the alder-branch by which Bran was recognised at the Câd Goddeu is a token of resurrection- its buds are set in a spiral. This spiral symbol is ante-diluvian: the earliest Sumerian shrines are 'ghost-houses', like those used in Uganda, and are flanked by spiral posts. (3)

The Fisher King
The meanings of the Alder and its role in Celtic ancient life are perhaps obscured in history.  All that is left is its association with the hero Bran and the rising passions of Spring.   Bran's association with the Holy Grail and the Fisher King make a easy connection of the Alder to the regenerative powers of the wounded healer.   A few years ago, I had a Fisher King dream which I am only beginning to unravel.  First, I was foiled in an attempt to enter the Grail castle in a boat with a beautiful Italian maiden [this Grail Castle was in Italy for some reason, or perhaps just an Italian film].  Next, I pretended to be one of the comical guards , dressed in Renaissance garb with matchlocks, and was on my way in the castle when I awoke.  The mystery of the wounded healer in the Fisher King is that our wounded nature is part of what makes us all human, and therefore what could divide us may also help us see ourselves as one.  Our wounded nature is dualistic:  in it lies our pain and our demise, but also birth and joy.
1 Linda Kerr, What is the Celtic Tree Calendar, http://www.faeriefaith.net/treecal.html
2 JM Patterson, A Tree In Your Pocket, from the webpage The Alder Tree , http://www.thornr.demon.co.uk/bran/alderims.html
3  Robert Graves, The White Goddess, http://www.thornr.demon.co.uk/bran/alderims.html

March 17, St Patrick's Day:  blessing


This daily meditation post came out of my longing for a daily celtic meditation.  I will share the wisdom I find from various sources of Celtic Wisdom, modern and ancient.

Today, from the great John O'Donohue, some words about blessings, one of the greatest gifts of Celtic culture.  From an article in Sojurner magazine http://sojo.net/blogs/2012/03/16/naomh-padraig-st-patricks-day-john-odonohue-and-blessing  by Cathleen Falsani .


To bless someone, in the most literal sense of the word, is to confer your hopes to them.
That's why so many traditional blessings begin with the word "may."

"May" doesn't mean "so be it." May implies that something is possible, but not a done deal. May hopes that God puts it in play and that you get out of your own way and allow it to happen.
John O'Donohue, the great contemporary Irish poet/philosopher (and former Catholic priest), knew the power of "may."
"The language of blessing is invocation, a calling forth," O'Donohue, who died unexpectedly in January 2008 at the age of 52, said in his final book, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings, published posthumously in the United States not long after his death. "[May] imagines and wills the fulfillment of desire. In the evocation of our blessings here, the word may is the spring through which the Holy Spirit is invoked to surge into presence and effect. The Holy Spirit is the subtle presence and secret energy behind every blessing."

St. Patrick's Day should be a celebration, one that surpasses the kind of ecstasy reached with one too many green beers. This year, may it be an occasion to bless and be blessed, a moment to remember the Anam Cara that draws us to one another in celebration and in sorrow.

From O'Donohue's Echoes of Memory

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.


And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.


When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.


May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.