Beltane - Or Not?

Cherry Blossom

Despite all my good intentions and determination to build a better 'normal', once again life got in the way of any Beltane celebrations this year. Although I am mostly only working a two-day week at the moment, this week was a busy one. We attended a funeral on Monday (one of my usual work days), and I worked Tuesday, Wednesday (in lieu of Monday and as holiday cover for a colleague), and Saturday. At the same time, IB had started a new job and had a training day on Tuesday and his first shifts Thursday and Saturday. As we're sharing a car between us, this caused some inconveniences such as arriving in Carmarthen two hours before I was due to start work one morning (pro-tip: take a good book). There was also a fair bit of sewing between work shifts to ensure IB's new uniforms fitted him! One afternoon I took groceries over to my elderly parents, and one evening family and friends got together via a Zoom call to celebrate my brother and sister-in-law's 21st Wedding Anniversary. 

With all this going on, it only occurred to me late one evening that the next day was Beltane, making me feel like a Very Bad Pagan Indeed. The next day we were going to have to be up super-early (IB's new job, car-sharing...) so I decided I might at least get the chance for a quick wander in the garden to wash my face in the Beltane dew before we left. Except, there was no dew. It was an unseasonably cold night and there was a sharp frost instead. I briefly wondered if the warmth of my hands would melt the frost into dew fit for face-washing, but my arthritic joints winced in horror at the very thought. So that was that.

Later on, back home after work I saw a friend had posted on Facebook that he really wasn't feeling that it was Beltane yet this year. Some people disagreed, but many were saying the same thing - and I realised I felt the same way too. It wasn't just the busy week leading up to Beltane that had sprung the festival on me - I'm not feeling it just yet. It could be to do with the unusually cold weather we're having at the moment. None of my seedlings in the vegetable patch have faired very well and I'm still too scared to plant out my tomato plants in the greenhouse because the nights are so cold. There's no hawthorn blossom in the hedges yet - and although it's often a bit late here at Halfway up a Hill, it's usually to be seen in abundance elsewhere by now. The cherry trees are blossoming abundantly (as always) but the apple blossom remains tightly budded for now. Worst of all, we don't yet have any swallows or martins. I saw my first swallows quite early this year, at my parents' house on 1st April (I usually expect them some time during the second week of April). Even though my parents only live less than 15 miles away, so far no swallows or martins have found their way to us. I have merely seen glimpses of a few at a time, passing through on their way to somewhere presumably a bit warmer. 

The date on the calendar may say it's Beltane then, but many of the seasonal signs are missing. So is it Beltane or not? I'm thinking yes - and no. There are a few different issues to be examined when it comes to determining the date of Beltane. The Solstices and Equinoxes are a much simpler matter, tied in as they are to the cycles of the sun. Although their exact dates vary slightly from year to year, they mark very precise moments in time that can be accurately predicted in advance. The sun is either at its maximum or minimum declination on the Solstices (marking the longest or shortest day), and the Equinoxes occur when the sun is positioned above the Equator and day and night are of equal length. The cross-quarterly festivals - Beltane, Lughnasadh, Samhain and Imbolc - are positioned roughly halfway between the Solstices and Equinoxes but are more concerned with the Earth's vegetation cycle. So it perhaps makes sense to judge their arrival from the cues given by the natural world. Snowdrops at Imbolc, hawthorn blossom at Beltane, the first grain harvest at Lughnasadh, the onset of winter at Samhain. It seems likely to me that in the days before clocks, calendars and electric light, people would have celebrated these festivals at the first full moon after they saw the cues given by nature. Everyone would have known which was the night of the full moon, and its light made gathering together easier. So in those days, I suspect Beltane would have been celebrated on the first full moon after the hawthorns began to blossom (or whatever the seasonal cue was for your part of the world). The advantage of this is keeping you sensitive to your environment and its changes. The obvious disadvantage is that seasonal signs can vary quite widely within a relatively small distance - the swallows having returned to my parents but not yet to me is a prime example. It also makes planning celebrations ahead of time much trickier than for the reliably predictable Solstices and Equinoxes.

This is where the invention of formalised calendars really simplifies things. We know from the archaeological records that our ancestors were carefully tracking the movements of the sun and moon, presumably in order to predict the cycles of the year. The creation of the Gregorian calendar that declares Beltane will occur on 30th April/1st May each year makes it far easier for covens, groves and other Pagan groups to plan their celebrations well ahead of time to ensure everyone who wants to attend can make suitable arrangements. Yet I can't help but feel sad about the way this severs us from the seasonal changes occurring around us.

Perhaps the best way - as is so often the case - is not  to commit ourselves to an either/or mindset, but to an 'and' way of thinking. It is Beltane both when the calendar says so - and also when the Earth declares it. The calendar Beltane allows us to plan community celebrations, wish each other a Happy Beltane on the same day and be in alignment with our fellow Pagans around the world (well, in the Northern hemisphere anyway - those in the Southern hemisphere will most likely be celebrating Samhain). And the Earth-based advent of Beltane allows us to be in communion with the Earth and to sense Her shifting energies in our very blood and bones.

I don't yet feel Beltane in my bones, in the pulse of the Earth - but I know it is on the way, just around the corner. The new leaves and the bluebells and wood anemones whisper of it. Soon swallows and hawthorn blossoms will confirm it and we will continue our headlong tumble into summer. Blessed Be.

 

       

      

Suddenly September

And so here we are in September. 

There is a chill in the morning air. Days are noticeably shorter. Apples hang plumply from the tree and rosehips glow in the hedge. The sycamore leaves are beginning to brown. Yet the sun is still warm and the swallows still dance in the sky. Summer is drawing to a close, but gently.

How did we get here so quickly? Time has been a strange companion these last months. Though life in lockdown was slow and peaceful, still the months seem to have slid past quickly and already we are three quarters of the way through 2020. It's been such a strange year, the fact that we're entering its last stages will no doubt please many. Yet I suspect the strangeness will not evaporate on 31st December. Strange is the new normal as our expectations and priorities and beliefs about our lives are upended and re-examined and we learn to navigate the new reality in which we find ourselves. It's disturbing and often hard and painful. Isn't that always true of change? And yet... at times I find myself relishing the challenge. I think we could build something new and wonderful from the wreckage. Throw out what no longer serves, question the status quo, refuse to go back to the system that has created so much injustice and inequality. 

On this first day of a new month, one which sees the beginning of the new academic year, let's pause to think about the opportunities to learn that are there for us all. What has been stripped away? What essentials remain? What do we need to let go of? What do we need to bring in? What do we want to create? Where do we want to be this time next year?

Let's seize the initiative. Let's create the lives we truly want, not the lives they've tried to tell us we want. I don't want to be part of a system that keeps most of the world in poverty while a handful of billionaires call the shots. I don't want things, I want connection and meaning. I don't want to keep running on the hamster wheel, I want to spend time with people I love doing things that make the world a better place. 

When they urge you to 'get back to normal' so that they can get the system up and running again, refuse. Withdraw your support for a system that is only there to benefit the few. Dream a better future - then create it. Let's work together, for the good of all.

ThriftWitch: Double Time

When I originally started my 'Thriftwitch' posts, I was thinking of ways of being thrifty with money. What I have been finding of late is that for me - and many others I suspect - time is also in short supply.

Here then, are a few ThriftWitch tips on saving time (and perhaps also money) in your witchery.

For me, one thing that always seems difficult is to maintain a regular spiritual practice when time is in short supply. I have found that one answer to this is to build your spiritual practice into your daily routine. For some this may mean getting up an hour earlier to meditate, but for those of us who prefer to spend that extra hour under the duvet, I have some other suggestions.

For example, one of the underpinnings of my spiritual practice is being in touch with the tides and seasons of the natural world. In an ideal world I would love to spend much of my time walking in woods communing with trees, sitting in my garden watching birds, insects and plants, or wandering the fields and hedgerows gathering wildflowers and herbs. Unfortunately the demands of earning a living and looking after animals, home and garden leave little spare time for such activities. So I try to go about the daily chores mindfully, using that time to check in with the constant seasonal changes around me.

The daily routine with the chickens is an excellent opportunity to notice what's happening in the garden as I have to go down there at least three times a day. In that time I can notice new plants emerging, coming into bloom or going to seed, tune into the songs of the birds, notice the phase of the moon or the slant of the sun and the onset of twilight. I can feel the rain or sun or wind on my skin, and take heed of weather omens for the coming days. All of this, while I am doing what I would have to be doing anyway.

You may not have chickens, but you could do the same whilst walking the children to school, waiting at the bus stop, cutting through the park during your lunch hour, taking the dog for a walk, watering the tomatoes, pegging the laundry on the line or going for a run.

Another great way to stay in tune with the seasons with the smallest of tweaks to your normal routine is to eat local, seasonal food whenever possible. There are many ways to do this, from growing it yourself to shopping for at least part of your weekly groceries at the local farmer's market/WI market/local organic or health food store. When doing your shopping, read the labels of the food. If it's been flown in from Thailand or Kenya it's not really local and hence probably not seasonal! Get to know what's in season when, from asparagus to raspberries to mackerel and mushrooms. It really does taste so much better when it's freshly picked and hasn't been transported hundreds of miles to get to you. This year I positively gorged myself on local asparagus during May/June, but I probably won't be eating it again until the same time next year. Far from feeling deprived by this, it makes the asparagus I do eat so much more appreciated. It's the same with new potatoes or summer strawberries. And when we grow some of the best apples in the world here in the UK, why on earth do we buy flavourless imported ones at the very time that other mouthwatering fruits like cherries, plums and berries are being produced on our home turf in abundance?

Here are a few more suggestions for adding a spiritual dimension to your daily routine and getting more out of your time:

• If you take public transport to work or school, use the time to meditate, practise skills like balancing your chakras, read a spiritual book or listen to meditative music.
• If you drive in to work you could listen to spiritual music or practise exercising witchy skills such as focusing on there being a parking space where you need one (it's amazing how often this one works with a little practice). Probably best though not to listen to anything too trance-inducing whilst driving!
• Whilst walking the kids to school make a game with them of noticing seasonal changes around you - the first swallow of spring, the first ripe fruits on the trees, the first falling autumn leaves.
• Cook with intent - stir in love, peace, nurturing. Cut runes or symbols into your pie crusts or loaves or biscuits or even your roast potatoes! Add a pinch of herbs or spices chosen for their magical meaning. Stir in positivity in a deosil direction. Cook with love!
• Eat with intent, be aware of each mouthful and concentrate on how the food is nourishing you.
• Make your housework chores a meditation. Meditate on cleaning away that which no longer serves you as you sweep, dust, polish. Even washing up can be a profound experience when viewed this way - honestly!
• Slumping in front of the TV is so very tempting after a long hard day - I'm as guilty of this as anyone! But it's also a terrible waste of time. Choose your viewing carefully - only switch on if there's something you really want to see. If the alternative is an evening of restless channel hopping because there's nothing that really grabs you, turn it off! Read a book, write in your journal, knit a scarf, phone a friend, play with your kids, potter in the garden, bake a cake, play the piano, take a leisurely soak in the bath... all of these things will nourish your soul far more than vegging out in front of the TV.
• Make a little altar on your desk at work or a window sill or shelf at home - it doesn't have to be an 'in-your-face-witchy' altar, but a little grouping of meaningful objects (a shell, crystal, family photo, votive candle, potted plant, fresh flowers, an acorn, a piece of jewellery...) will catch your eye during the working day and give your spirit a little lift. It will also be a reminder to see the sacred in the every day.
• If you can do it without getting weird looks from co-workers, sing or chant as you work. Literally 'enchant' your work.

Finally, if you need more time in your life, invoke Time as an ally. Ask that time stretch and be flexible so that all that needs to be done can be done. This truly works. And when you're done, don't forget to thank Time. As in all things, a little gratitude goes a long way!

365 Days

365 days ago...

You said, "I've got something to tell you. I've met someone."

I waited for the punchline. But there was no humour in the situation. Your china-blue eyes were deadly serious.

"We want to be together. I'm sorry."

I had no words. What could I say?

"I think it's best if I go now and give you some privacy."

Now I had words. Words like, 'why?' and 'how?' and 'when?', but when I tried to speak them, you turned awkwardly and walked away, drove away, away from me and into your new life. And I stood in the wreckage of the old one, alone and quite bewildered by the way everything had suddenly turned upside down.

Today, 365 days later...

He said, "I love you" and kissed the end of my nose as we prepared breakfast together.

I kissed him back, "I love you too," my heart so full as I gazed into his sea-coloured eyes.

The world has turned full circle, a complete year. And in that time everything has changed. Everything is right side up again, bewilderment replaced by contentment. I have lost a husband, but found true love. How has that happened in just 365 days?

Miracles may not happen overnight. But they can clearly manifest in less than a year.

Thank you, multiverse.

The Sacred Round

As a child, I was fascinated by the idea of saints days and festivals. I loved the notion that each day was sacred to a particular saint - be it those I had heard of like St John the Baptist or St Patrick, or someone a little more obscure and exotic, like St Willibald or St Gilbert of Sempringham. I also loved the folk customs attached to different times of year, such as cheese-rolling, well-dressing, maypole dancing and hobby 'osses. It made each day special in its own right, even if to most people it was just another Tuesday.

Later, when I recognised I was Pagan, a whole new calendar revealed itself to me. Rather than the year being broadly carved up into New Year-Easter-Birthday-Summer Holidays-Christmas (with the odd quirky diversion like Pancake Day (Shrove Tuesday) or Hallowe'en thrown in), I now had a 'Wheel of the Year' with eight festivals to celebrate, spread evenly through the year. The option of adding in ancient (and modern) Goddess and God festivals, plus the lunar cycle of new, full and dark moons added yet another rich strand to the tapestry of 'special days'.

My favourite element to the Pagan calendar is that it is specifically linked in to the natural cycle of the Earth - at least here in the British Isles! From Yule, at the darkest point of midwinter when we celebrate the rebirth of the sun, round through the first inklings of spring at Imbolc, the tipping into the light half of the year at Eostre, the full on burst of green fecundity at Beltane, the longest, midsummer day at Litha, the start of the grain harvest at Lughnasadh, the completion of harvest and tipping into the dark half of the year at Mabon, the entry into winter and the apparent hibernation of life at Samhain, back to Yule again. I love the way the Wheel of the Year connects me to the Earth and Her cycles.

Latterly, I have been pondering a personal calendar, tied in to the changing seasons around me. Just as the Native Americans named their moons to denote these changes - Leaf Moon, Ice Moon, Blossom Moon etc - I want to mark a connectedness between events in my own little bioregion and my calendar.

I have already written on here about my love for making elderflower cordial in early summer. So that is one of my personal calendar events. There is also the harvesting of the blackcurrants, which seems to fall around my birthday and never fails to remind me of childhood summers in my grandparent's orchard. Then there are the sweetpea flowers which bloom at about the same time and remind me of the little bunch that Grandpa always brought me for my birthday. The opening of the first snowdrops - mid to late February here, Halfway Up A Hill - and the annual return of the swallows in April. And in the greyness of late winter the magical flocks of starlings. Buffy sitting on her clutch of eggs in spring. Making sloe gin in autumn. The village show in late summer. Witchcamp.

None of these events have the same date each year, each depending on the weather and other variables. But each has a season, seasons which melt into each other and transform as the Wheel turns, swinging around and away and then back again with reassuring familiarity. They mark my time and place in this world.

What's marked on your personal calendar?

Magic in the Mist

It was a cool, wet, misty morning. As I stepped out of the back door to start the daily chores, a movement caught my eye. Overhead a heron flapped slow, silent wingstrokes across the sky, unhurried and graceful for all its size. Isolated from sounds by the enveloping misty drizzle, it was a moment outside time. I could just as easily have been an Iron Age woman starting the day outside her roundhouse, suddenly transfixed by the ghostly appearance of the breathtaking bird.

This old, magical land often feels to me like there are many strata of time and experience overlaid into an almost tangible fabric. I often feel that if I were just a little more sensitive, a little more attentive, I could break through the veil into the thousand other lives and experiences which are woven into an exquisite yet delicate pattern, telling the story of this land through the ages. Neighbours have told me that the lane we are on was once a Roman Road; there are standing stones and ruined castles nearby; sometimes in the garden I turn up pieces of broken china, the fragile bones of a deceased vole, a child's lost toy, a cobbler's last (our house was originally owned by a cobbler). The stories this land has to tell, if I only knew how to ask, or to hear.

This part of the country is the supposed birthplace of Merlin. Truth or myth, it seemed credible on such a morning, as the silent, elegant heron flapped enigmatically away into the mist.