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Are ancient traditions irrelevant to today’s world? Or can they help us cope with the stresses and worries of our busy lives? In my own life, which has veered – sometimes wildly – from crisis worker to psychotherapist to author and workshop presenter, plus a husband or two, I’ve found that the earth-based culture and society of the ancient Celts has helped me to connect to the rhythms of the natural world. As I hike along the seashore or in the forest, as I work in my garden, I see how the flowers and trees, birds and animals, the tides, the light and the weather all change with the passing seasons in the great wheel of life. I find the physical exercise relaxes and recharges me. The time spent in and with Nature calms the whirl of my thoughts and helps me gain perspective on my everyday life. It’s the real world – the one that’s all around us, yet so often lost sight of amid the concrete and asphalt that enclose most of our days. The pre-Christian world of the Celts was an animate and ensouled universe. The land was the Great Goddess, whose breasts flowed with the rivers that fertilized the Earth. The Celts dwelt in clearings in the forest, where they learned the secret language of the trees. They knew how to shape-shift into birds and animals in order to understand the wisdom and power of stag, boar, hawk and salmon. They viewed life as a continuous cycle of birth-death-rebirth, for they understood that everything moved in a spiral, from the growth of a snail’s shell to the whirling galaxies above. Because they believed in reincarnation, they were fearless in the face of death, seeing it as “but the center of a long life.” It was not uncommon for a man to lend money and agree on repayment in a future lifetime. At the coming of Christianity, the Celts continued to view the world with love and respect since it was a divine creation of God. The first monastery in Ireland resembled the old tribal villages: small farmsteads in forest clearings. Hermit and anchorite led ascetic lives in caves or even trees and wrote exquisite poems of praise for the gifts of Nature. The old Irish scholar, Robin Flower, described the first Celtic Christians as regarding the world with “an eye washed miraculously clear with continuous spiritual exercise,” which gave them “a strange vision of natural things in an almost unnatural purity.” Even as late as the 19th century, ordinary farming and fishing families still lived every day in close communion with the Divine. Woven through their lives was a complex and beautiful tapestry of daily and seasonal prayers, rituals and ceremonies. Whether sowing seed, spinning wool or milking cows, these country dwellers carried out every task in the spirit of prayer, despite the poverty and hardships of subsistence living. Although they prayed to Christian saints and angels, these figures thinly veil the pagan gods and goddesses whose names they once bore. And these invisible protectors were not merely to be found in church on Sundays, or in a heavenly beyond, but attended everyday life in kitchen, field and barn. The changing seasons announced the steps of the yearly dance, and were welcomed with feast-days and merrymaking to acknowledge and give thanks for the ever-turning cycle. The lives of these people unfolded to a universal pattern, an integration of community, earth and spirit, in a way that we, in our fragmented and alienating society, can scarcely imagine.
The Celtic year spirals
through four festivals, and here are some of the ways I’ve incorporated
them into my own life. As the land emerges from its long winter sleep
in early February I celebrate the first signs of Spring with the festival
of Brigit, goddess of the growing light, who later became Saint Brigit, most
beloved of female saints in the Celtic countries. I fill my house with
candlelight and invite friends over to make Brigit’s crosses out of
straw. Their intricate shape pre-dates Christianity and is very similar
to sun symbols found in many indigenous cultures. We hang them above door
or mantelpiece to invoke Brigit’s blessing upon our households in the
coming year. Children love to make the crosses too, and theirs are
traditionally hung over their beds to protect them during the night. The
earth is beginning to soften for the plow, so I use this time to dream about
what seeds I want to sow in my life in the coming cycle of growth. Brigit
is also a goddess of inspiration, so I call upon her to inspire my visions.
At the beginning of May, the festival of Beltaine heralds the season
of light and growth and the blossoming of the earth. In the Celtic
lands, country-dwellers left the confines of their winter quarters to spend
the warm summer days in the green world. My friends and I celebrate
this joyous season outside whenever possible, making flower garlands to wear
before we head for the oak woods a short distance from my home. We
cut a leafy branch and perform the time-honored ritual of “bringing
the summer home” to our neighborhood. With song and circle dances
– not to mention flagons of May wine flavored with sweet woodruff flowers
– we use this time to celebrate relationships, sensuality and creativity.
And so I try to consciously
align myself with sacred time by attuning my life to the spiral of the Celtic
year. The Universe invites me to the grand dance, in which my partners
are the sun, moon, stars and tides and every living thing. I am a part
of the ebb and flow of the cosmos. Instead of grimly struggling towards
distant goals, I can now appreciate the present moment and enjoy the journey.
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