Some visions and some thoughts

It seems like circles have been ruling my life lately. It started with a Wheel of the Year Quilt that I made as a donation for the Pantheacon. The quilt was so much fun that I decided to make a series of them using different colors and themes. I started work on the second one (using star fabrics and a celestial theme), and, wouldn't you know, the OBOD lessons that week were all about circles. The cycle of day/night, the year, the lifetime of man, how they all intersect and overlay each other. Now my mind is going in circles.

Those particular lessons were also about the Awen, the Divine essence or wisdom or blessing, however you want to define it. I started meditating on the Awen, concentrating on calling it down. In the first meditation, I could feel myself standing at the entrance to my Secret Grove. A crow seated in a tree greeted me politely and I answered before stepping into the grove. It was night. There was a full moon shining, filling the glade with shimmering silver light. The Grandmother Redwood was aglow with it, almost dancing with the power. As I stepped out into the light and started chanting the Awen, I could feel the power tingling and glowing through me. Feel it responding. Then my meditation was interrupted.

The next day, I tried the same meditation. This time, I intended to use the guided meditation in the lesson, which used a seashore setting. However, my subconscious or my spirit friends had other ideas. Almost as soon as I relaxed I felt my spirit friends gathering. Again it was night, but this time I was standing in the middle of a stone circle. A small circle and an ancient one. I could feel the age almost as if I could taste it. The moonlight was shining down on me. As I stood there, I could see out of the corners of my eyes, others gathering. On my left hand was the Forest Lord, shifting from deer to human, on my right hand was the Lady. I lifted my arms to the moon. As I started to chant the Awen, other voices joined mine - first a crow, somewhere off to the left, then a wolf to the right, adding his howl to the chant. Our voices joined, we continued to chant as the light shown down its blessing. It was incredible magical and fulfilling. I've never felt so at peace.

Imbolc - looking for spring

Imbolc arrived two weeks ago. What an unpredictable time it is. Two days ago, I spent the morning working in the yard, trimming roses and clearing weeds. Yesterday, I woke to snow. Today, the sun is out and it's clear and cold. Every day, nearly every hour brings a change. The summer birds are starting to appear and the first bulbs will soon be blooming. What a special time.

It's been just over a year since I joined OBOD (The Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids), a British based organization. I also belong to a small local grove with some very nice people. Why did I choose OBOD over all of the other druid groups? Mostly because of the emphasis they place on scholarship and creativity. I was gotten caught in a creative block, where I just couldn't seem to cime up with any ideas, even bad ones. I started the Bardic grade course, setting a goal of doing one piece of art or craft - even a rough sketch - for each lesson.

Well, it was like a dam breaking. Now the ideas are coming so fast and thick I can't keep up with them. In fact my sister Judy and I decided to resurrect a small craft business that we had started in California. So far, I've made a couple dozen Spirit and Goddess dolls and several wall hangings. The Wheel of the Year that I'm using for a profile picture is one of them. Right now I'm working on a new Wheel quilt and a wall hanging inspired by a meditation in Mara Freeman's book. I'm also working on a new line of dolls - gods, goddesses and magic makers. In fact, it's time to quit writing and get to work on Merlin.

The groundwork

When did I become a Druid? I'm not really sure. Looking back, I think that I've been walking the path for most of my life, long before I knew what modern Druidry was. I've always felt a strong connection to animals and nature as well as a great love of history. The majority of my life was spent on the Russian River in Northern California, surrounded by redwoods. It wasn't paradise; there were floods, weeks spent without electricity or running water, trees that blocked the road, but some of the memories I'll treasure forever - the quail and the woodpeckers bringing their chicks to the feeder, the pileated woodpecker who let me watch her feeding her baby, the grumpy old blue heron on the beach, the ospreys who would keep me company while I was working in the garden.
My mother loved all things Irish and Scottish. My father, while being the most practical of men, had a touch of the Sight, enough to make him comfortable with supernatural things. Living in Sonoma County in the Seventies and Eighties, there was no shortage of the supernatural.
Four or five years ago, when I was going through a particularly difficult time, a young buck appeared. I would take my little dog - a elderly, nearly blind llasa mix - for a walk, and this deer would be waiting and would walk with us. Deliberately waiting. Oftentimes, he would be close enough to touch. If another person came along, he would slip away then come back when I was alone. At the time, I simply accepted his company with gratitude. It was only later, when I was more settled, that I realized it was my spirit guide - angel, whatever term you prefer - that came to offer me comfort and to remind me that I was not alone.
It was during that period that I fully acknowledged the druidic and pagan path that I had been
unconciously following for so long. That is when the quest began...