Gathering Space for Lughnasadh

July 29, 2021

On the Isle of Iona in the North Atlantic, the early evening air is cool enough for a sweater or shawl.

The moon, six days past her fullness will soon rise to bless our gathering.

There’s buoyancy in our step, starlight in our eyes, as we enter the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery.

Tonight we have come to celebrate the Harvest Festival of Lughnasadh.

Each of us carries a symbol, an image, a few words that represent the Harvest Gift we offer

to all that lives on the Planet, as well as to the Love that sustains, nurtures all of that life.

We come to the Celebration with the delight of those who carry gifts of great worth.

Our quilts of many colours are spread out on the grass awaiting us.

At the centre of each quilt there’s a basket of wild flowers: white daisies, yellow brown-eyed susans,

blue cornflowers , foxglove with pink-purple bells, stalks of purple heather.

We choose a place to sit, mindful still of social distancing.

This evening it is Dolores Whelan who stands to light the fire, to introduce the Ritual.

“Shall I tell you about Lugh?”

Lugh, Celtic Fire God 

For answer, we settle ourselves, awaiting the tale with eagerness. “The Celtic god Lugh is known as

the samildanach, the many-gifted one. Lugh represents the skilled masculine energy,

with its ability to hone, shape, bring to harvest the fruits of the seeds planted at Samhain

and nurtured during the dark giamos time by the feminine energy.

At Lughnasadh, the important dance of opposite energies and roles is beautifully expressed.

Tailtiu, the foster mother of Lugh, is the goddess who cleared away the wilderness,

making the plains and fields ready for crops to be grown.

She died from her efforts and is also remembered at this time;

Lugh is said to have inaugurated this festival in her honour.

“In the wheel of the Celtic Year, Lughnasadh stands directly opposite Imbolc,

where Brigid, embodying the primal creative energy, occupied the central role.

"Bron Trogain, an older name for this festival, may mean the sorrow of Trogain

or the sorrow of the fertile earth. This may mean that the fertility of the harvest is linked

with the death that follows its completion, again bringing together the polarities of life and death.

The successful harvest requires that Lugh appease his adversary, Crom Dubh,

who represents the aspect of the land that does not wish to be harvested

or subjected to the rule and energy of Lugh.

“The two-week Lughnasadh festival was a very important meeting time for the tribe,

bringing people together to test their skills in many different disciplines.

They challenged each other in contests and games

held during the annual fairs in Lugh’s honour.

The rituals at this festival included the acknowledgement of the triumph of Lugh,

the harvesting, enjoyment of the first fruits, the acknowledgement of the end of summer.

It was a time of great merriment, especially for young people, who wore garlands of flowers

and went into the hills to pick bilberries or blueberries.

Marriages were traditionally held at this time of year.

“High places in the land, where earth and sky met, were considered the appropriate place

to honour Lugh. At the ritual site, many of the characteristics and gifts of Lugh were enacted by mummers.

The first sheaf of wheat, barley or corn was ceremonially cut, milled, and baked into cakes.

These were eaten along with the wild blueberries or bilberries.

The young folks’ garlands of flowers were buried to signify the end of summer.”

Dolores pauses as we take this in.

Heather says, “It seems so sad. Burying the garlands, such a mournful ending to the beauty of summer.”  

Dolores turns to her, says gently, “In the wheel of the Celtic year there is no ending

that is not also a new beginning. Remember that when the bright days of the masculine summer fade,

we are getting ready to welcome Samhain, the season of the feminine winter.

Once again Samhain will draw us into the days of womb-like preparation,

the dark days of incubation that will themselves end with Brigid’s Festival of Imbolc

on February 1st welcoming spring.”

Ritual of Our Harvest Gifts

There are two parts to our Lughnasadh Ritual:

farewell to summer and placing of harvest gifts on the altar.

For the first, I invite you to pass around the basket you find in the centre of each quilt.

Choose five or six long-stemmed flowers. Braid the stems so that they form a crown,

with the blossoms on the outside. Place the crown snugly on your head.

Weave your crown with gratitude for the joys of summer, with a thankful heart

knowing that what follows is the beauty of autumn, later the sacred

snow-wrapped season of Samhain.

Once your crown is ready to wear, you may want to move to a space on the grass to dance. 

Look now towards the far edge of the grass to the table that you see there.

If a few you whose crowns are in place would come with me, we’ll decorate the altar

to prepare for the second part of the ritual.

 

Come now and stand in a half circle facing the altar.

As you feel ready step towards the altar and speak of your symbol.

After each woman speaks of her symbol

and moves to place it in the centre of the altar between the baskets,

we will respond with these words:

 

“We honour you (name her). We honour your art.

What you give with love, in freedom and joy, we accept with love and gratitude.

May the Holy One receive your gift.” 

 

After the response, remove your crown, place it in one of the baskets

to signify your readiness to say farewell to summer, to greet the season of autumn.

Return to your place. The next woman steps forward.

 

Mary Teske is the first to come forward:

“For a number of years now I have been journeying with women including my sister-in-law

who have lost their husbands. As they mourn the loss of their loved ones, I bring my gift of listening.”

“We honour you Mary. We honour your art.

What you give with love, in freedom and joy, we accept with love and gratitude.

May the Holy One receive your gift.” 

 

Colette is the second to approach the Harvest altar:

“I will bring a new skill, that of being more free and open to love and to be loved.

By the grace of God it is progressing in a very encouraging way.

I am encouraged and delighted.”

 

“We honour you Colette. We honour your art.

What you give with love, in freedom and joy, we accept with love and gratitude.

May the Holy One receive your gift.” 

 

Now Ellyn approaches the altar:

“I am harvesting the service to my disabled sibling: aiding her healing from a broken

and only functional right hand, wounds, bruises and head trauma.

I serve with compassion and with little sustained appreciation

and absent support from her team of paid therapists.
“I am coming to fuller awareness, and recognizing how little I've been attending to my own healing

from a major surgery, other health issues and my own unique gifts that are not being expressed.

“I have drawn a deep breath and dive deep to examine my choices and listen to my body and feel my spiritual pull.

Reaching out to old and new friends with courage and using small energy savings to engage with them.

“I have found the determination and drive to complete a paper and deliver it

to an international conference, without fancy PowerPoint slides

or photos and polish that I'd imagined I would apply.

“I recognize that I am ‘a woman at the crossroads’ and I am claiming my path

as I attend, discern, glimpse, grope and declare what it truly is, must be.

“Listening intently and intensely and with steady or unsteady legs to stand upon,

I hear with all my senses. My skin and tongue know as much as my ears and eyes.

I hear my gut and name it's messages. I am inspired and expired.

"Translating, distilling and recalibrating after the whirl of sensations are being honed.

Choosing actions and acting on those choices are works in progress.

“I would like to express more using dance, watercolor painting, singing and writing creatively.”

“We honour you Ellyn. We honour your art.

What you give with love, in freedom and joy, we accept with love and gratitude.

May the Holy One receive your gift.” 

(Now it is your turn to come forward.

Speak of what you are harvesting in your life on this Feast of Lughnasadh.

Place your crown of flowers in the basket to show your readiness to embrace Autumn.) 

When the last woman has spoken we join in a celebratory dance

before we enjoy our Lughnasadh Feast of fruit, baking brought by Elspeth

and the honey wine known as mead.

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Gathering Space for July 22, 2021

It's already one month past the Summer Solstice as we come into the Garden on Iona.

The July evening is warm, fragrant with summer blossoms, alive with birdsong.

Later, as the sky darkens, the moon, radiant on the eve of her fullness, will rise to bless us.

We take time to greet one another before finding our own place to sit,

either on the worn stones of the long-ago Chapter House walls,

or on our colourful Communion quilts that rest upon the soft welcoming grasses.

In the beauty of this evening, our thoughts turn to the presence of Sophia within all that lives:

She who has been called the beating heart of the planet.

Mary Malone’s poetry offers us some lines about Sophia.  

Would someone read them aloud for us?

Noreen’s voice rises through the evening air:

For Sophia is the splendour of eternal light

And immaculate mirror of God’s majesty,

And image of God’s goodness…

For she is more beautiful than the sun,

And above all the order of the stars.

Compared with the light, she is found before it…

Therefore she reaches from end to end mightily

And orders all things sweetly.

There is a time of quiet as these words settle within us creating an inner space of peace and beauty.
 

Jean Houston is with us this evening, having this very day been present on Zoom

with her co-writer Anneloes Smitsman for the launch of their book,

“The Quest of Rose”, Part One of their trilogy: Future Humans.  

We’ve asked Jean to lead us in her meditation on “A Visit to the Sophia” from her book, Godseed.

We settle ourselves comfortably, preparing for this sacred journey, and Jean speaks:

After a long spiraling journey upwards, you find yourself at the very top of a high mountain.

You go inside the mountain to a path that travels downward in a spiral.

Moving along the path down and around within the inner mountain spiral,

you pass scenes of your own life, from your earliest infancy.

You see or sense yourself being born. Continuing on the path down and around,

to your earliest childhood, you see yourself taking your first steps,

forming words, reaching out and grasping things,  learning to feed yourself.

Further down you see yourself learning to tie your own shoes and attending your first days at school.

Continuing down, you see yourself learning games and reaching out to other children.

As you continue, you see yourself growing up fast and learning many things.

You see your adolescence. Further along you observe stages of your life until today………..

Suddenly you find yourself at the very bottom of the inside of the mountain.

There you discover a door of baked mud. Going through it, you find that it leads to a hallway

and to a door of water. You pass through the door of water, and it leads to a door of fire.

You pass through the door of fire, and it leads to a door of winds.

You lean against the winds and pass through.

This door leads to a door of bronze, and you pass through.

This door leads to a door of silver. You pass  through the door of silver and find a door of gold.

At the door of gold there is a shining figure who says to you: “Through this door is the Sophia.

"Through this door is the Wise One herself, the incarnation of Wisdom.

When you pass through this door, you will be in the presence of the Sophia.

"There you must ask your question. You may see her or you may sense her.

"But know that she is there. She who is Wisdom itself.”

When you are in her ambience, whether you see her or hear her or sense her or feel her,

ask your question. Her answers may come in words or in images or even in feelings.

You now have four minutes of clock time, equal to all the time you need,

to be in the presence of the Sophia and ask your question and receive her answers.

(set timer for four minute) 

     

Thanking the Sophia for her wisdom and kindness,

and knowing that you can always return to visit her again, begin now to go back

through the door of gold, the door of silver, the door of bronze,

beyond the doors of winds, of fire, of water, of earth,

beyond the spiral of the stages of your own life, reaching the top of the mountain.

Now take the spiral path back down from the mountain.

Find yourself here in this moment, in the Garden of Iona.

Open your eyes, sit up and stretch, and if you wish write of your experience in a journal.
 

We thank Jean for leading us in this meditation.

We think of how we might share the experience with one another.

Now the golden moon, the light of Sophia, rises in the sky, and within us. 

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Gathering Space: July 15, 2021

(This is adapted from last summer when we were reflecting on the first months of COVID.

Notice how your thoughts on “Harvesting the COVID experience” may have altered since then.)

Mother Moon, just days old, greets us from the darkening sky as we enter the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery.

The air on the Island of Iona  holds the gentle warmth of summer.

Our colourful quilts are spread out on the grass ready to welcome us. We each take care to choose a place

on one of the quilts, mindful of the social distancing that keeps us safe.

Shirley stands to light the fire pot.

 

 

As the conversations ebb, Shirley speaks to the group forming a circle around the flame:

“We are now approaching the Season of Lughnasadh in the Celtic Calendar.

This is a sacred time to harvest the insights that came during these silent weeks of COVID isolation,

as well as to ponder the way we now find ourselves, soul and spirit, heart, mind, body

in these unprecedented times. We may ask ourselves:

What am I harvesting in my life as we enter the sixth month of COVID?

“Last week we each received an email inviting us to reflect on a few questions related to our life

since we last gathered here: its transmutations, its desires,

and how the Communion might assist us with these. Tonight I’ll read each of the questions

and invite you to respond as you feel drawn.  

“The first question is this:  

What is changing, transmuting, transforming in my life? Who am I becoming?

What do I most desire to grow towards?

Yvette speaks: I am moving toward a more deeply lived spirituality encompassing daily life.

Is it my age? Is it the tenor of our times? Is it my return to leadership in my community? 

I believe it is all of the above that moves me to be gentle with where I am in life now.

I am not the leader I was at 45! I am a matured, yes ripened, leader.

I see life as opportunity and challenge. I understand the underpinnings of our aging

and diminishing community in North America. And, I recognize the effervescent growth of our community in Haiti.

I have been interviewing the Sisters for whom I am the contact leader here in New England.

The experience is grace-filled. The sisters, older than I, give me courage. Those younger than I give me energy.

 

Colette speaks: I am becoming freer to focus on the Beloved ever so gently.

Grace is at work on this journey of more freedom from fears and self-preoccupation.

I read words that describe really well what is going on with me:“Surrender is being done to us

by the action of the Beloved. And in the pull, the aspects of the ego that no longer serve us

(patterns, defense mechanisms etc.) are being transmuted, transformed, in preparation for union.”

 Who am I becoming? The beloved. The invitation for me is to allow myself to be loved

(a challenge for me) and in so doing welcome the Beloved. I most desire to grow towards Union.

 

Noreen speaks: What I have noticed is that my prayer has taken a beautiful shift. 

I am drawn to pay deep attention to my Sacred Breath.  It is the Golden Flame of God’s Abundance

and Eternal Peace which flows into my Divine Heart space.

It is a call to deeper solitude and prayer for the world.

On August 1st, I heard that my grandnephew in Sudbury, 27 years of age,

was involved in a work accident and had third degree burns to his chest, hands and arms.

My heart grieved, and I was unprepared for the pain I felt for him and his loved ones.

The Breath Prayer became a doorway to enter into my painful wound and be supportive to family.

The breath prayer forms the background to all my other works and prayers.

What I desire and long for is not only to listen ‘to the still small voice within’

but with the ‘Divine indwelling’ to act and respond in such a way, that I fully trust my inner Knowing

and Intuitive guide.  With such rich, inner knowledge I pray that I will feel the discomfort

of my thoughts, feelings, words and actions that do not move me to act with love.

 

Clara speaks: My ministry of offering light chair massage is uncertain at this time.

I am learning to live with uncertainty regarding ministry.

The focus on “doing” has shifted to “being”.

I have to admit I enjoyed the slower pace that Covid has offered me. 

I am not bored but rather content at this stage.

I feel I should be more involved but where and how?

I desire to grow towards attentiveness to’ what is’ and cherish the moment -

trusting in the silence I am being led.

 

Heather speaks: During Covid I was led into stillness and lived it for the stillness was the blessing

I was craving but never would have achieved if the world hadn't paused.

I am on a journey of healing, a cleansing of the past and the healing of a broken heart

by telling my story and truly acknowledging that I was shielded from a young age

by something greater than me. I am who I am today as a result of circumstances that gave me

compassion, love, acceptance and a greater understanding of human frailty.

 

Mary Ellen speaks: At both the macro level of the world, and the level of my own personal life,

I must face more and more that I am not in control. How I live each moment and unfolding event

is what is most essential to my sense of peace and wholeness.

The deep need to be grounded in and held in the Immense Love at the heart of all,

and in the unfolding of all, is profoundly important to me. While as present as I can be

to the more immediate realities of my life and the world, I need to keep before me the larger,

cosmic vision of movement and purpose in and through that Love.

I wish to respond passionately to the call to be a co-creator, while being ready to abandon the efforts

and results to the God of Love. Contemplation leading to action and then to letting go in trust.

 

Shirley speaks: Here is another question: How might the Communion assist/companion me in this growth?

 

Carol speaks: As to how the Communion can assist, simply continuing to witness

one another's journeys through e-mail responses and especially opportunities for Zoom gatherings.

In other words, continuing these practices. 

Colette speaks: Perhaps in our sharing allow myself to love and be loved.

Mary Teske speaks: In one of my readings this past week there was reference

to the culture/ spirituality that was prevalent around the time of Jesus.

Here we are two thousand years since that time and we seem to be in a great time of change

or being called to change spiritually, culturally and socially. So this has left me with the question

of where we are going globally, what is the communion's role

and more particularly my role in birthing this new way of life?

 

Noreen speaks: How can we harness the energies of LOVE in our global world as a Communion?

We are in an evolutionary moment and God is creating us in this moment.

We help God by our words and action to bring God forth in our world.

A new story is taking hold in our world and we must learn to live into this story. 

We, the Communion, want to be part of this unfolding newness.

One name comes to mind that we might study. It is Thomas Merton.

The Communion supports and assists us by offering new insight for reflection and prayer –

moving us always to be faithful to the unfolding new story and being faithful

to our part in bringing this about. The Communion encourages our personal effort,

so we do not grow weary with the challenging task before us knowing

we have each other as we are held in love and hope.

The Communion offers each of us prayer on our pilgrimage together.

 

Suzanne speaks: John O'Donohue has a poem “In Praise of Water” in his book

To Bless the Space Between Us  where he says:

 Let us bless the humility of water,

Always willing to take shape

Of whatever otherness holds it,

The buoyancy of water

Stronger than the deadening,

Downward drag of gravity,

The innocence of water,

Flowing forth, without thought

Of what awaits it,

The refreshment of water,

Dissolving the crystals of thirst.

 

Water: voice of grief,

Cry of love,

In the flowing tear.

Water: vehicle and idiom

Of all the inner voyaging

That keeps us alive.

Blessed be water,

Our first mother.

 

I would like us to consider our rebirth in water, reflecting on the bodies of water,

the lakes or rivers or oceans near where we were born, and the bodies of water

that were near us when we had moments of transformation.

“Blessed be water where I was born/reborn.”

 

We might also reflect on the Celtic understanding that we are each related

to particular aspects of the elements of earth, fire, air and water.

Which element best describes our way of living and relating?

What is your element, what balances you?

 

 Colette speaks: One area that is of interest to me might be expressed by the following:

In the motion of surrender allow the flow of Presence to live through us, in us, as us.

Hence becoming a greater manifestation of who we are, our authentic self / essence,

a manifestation of the Presence. Perhaps this is one aspect of union with the Beloved.

 

Carol speaks: I would really enjoy those who took part in the recent Ubiquity seminar

sharing around the Magdalene and the Dark Mother. Wondering too about tapping into them

/ these resources to help us build and maintain our resilience. 

 

Clara speaks: I would like to reflect on the ministry of ‘being’. 

Living a more contemplative life.

 

Yvette speaks: I am understanding the dimensions of the title of a book I just purchased:

“Coming of Age” by Diarmuid O’Murchu. That being said, I am looking now for input

and reflective material on “coming of age.”


Shirley asks: What I am harvesting in my life as we enter the 6th month of Covid 19?

 

Clara speaks: What I am harvesting in my life in this time is Trust that “I shall not want.” Psalm 23

 

Heather speaks: What I am harvesting through these past months is a healing of the heart

and a release of the blockages that held me back so I can answer the calling

to somehow be a calming presence, making a difference and touching people’s lives for a purpose.

Using my own experiences as a road map that will direct me along the way,

to be open to where life will bring me.

Hence, being part of the communion of creative fire, I believe is part of that calling.

Shirley speaks: Thank you to each of you for your reflections and your willingness

to open your hearts to us, to speak of the growth and changes,

the desires and longings you have experienced over this time.

 

May each of us hold within us what we have heard this evening.

We’ll close this time now with a Blessing from John O’Donohue.

 

Let’s read it aloud together as an offering to one another:

 

Blessed be the longing that brought you here

and that quickens your soul with wonder.

May you have the courage to befriend your eternal longing.

May you enjoy the critical and creative companionship of the

  question, “Who am I?” and may it brighten your longing.

May a secret Providence guide your thought and shelter your feeling.

May your mind inhabit your life with the same sureness

with which your body belongs to the world.

May the sense of something absent enlarge your life.

May your soul be as free as the ever-new waves of the sea.

May you succumb to the danger of growth.

May you live in the neighbourhood of wonder.

May you belong to love with the wildness of Dance.

May you know that you are ever embraced

in the kind circle of God.

 

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Gathering Space with Julian of Norwich

July 8, 2021

It’s the eve of the new moon in this second week of July as we come into the garden of Iona's

thirteenth century nunnery. We assist one another in carrying our Communion quilts, the manuscripts

of our spirituality in their contrasting harmonious shades, so that we may sit under the open window

in the ruins where in the past Julian has come to speak with us.

On these same grounds there once stood the Chapter House where the abbess and her sisters

would have gathered to reflect together, to seek solutions to the challenges of their daily lives.  

We twenty-first century women come with questions, concerns and challenges from our lives

and the lives of those we love. We are aware also of planet-wide challenges, for we carry in our hearts

the entire human family, and all that lives on this earth. We are aware, as the women who lived here

eight centuries ago were not, of the sufferings of the earth herself, the choking and poisoning

of her waters, the depletion of her soil, the rape of her rain forests.

Yet as they would have done, we shall pray, listen to one another, and trust in the guidance

of the Spirit to show us the way forward. How much greater is our need for guidance,

for knowing how each is called to be a presence of love and light in the midst of darkness.

We need guidance as well for the future of our communion, knowing that our combined

daily contemplative time, our deep listening to the Sacred Presence and to one another,

our actions which flow from this, matter deeply to our time. 

We come prepared to stay for the whole evening, eager for the coming of darkness.

In the absence of moonlight we know the stars tonight will be especially brilliant.

We settle comfortably onto our quilts, allowing for space between us, aware that

the pandemic, though waning, is not yet over.

In expectant hope, we look towards the opening in the stones, awaiting Julian’s arrival.   

Painting by Jane Joyner

Soon Julian is here, greeting us,  inviting us to listen to her words about the Presence of Love within all of life:

I know well that heaven and earth and all creation are great, generous and beautiful and good….

he who created it created everything for love, and by the same love it is preserved, and always will be without end.…

God is everything which is good, as I see, and the goodness which everything has is God.

Julian invites us to settle now into a time of quiet, feeling our breath slow and deepen until peace fills us.

We allow Julian's words to penetrate our concerns, our grief, our sense of loss.

In the corners of the painting of Julian by  Jane Joyner, we notice each of the four elements

present, reminding us that we are not alone in the challenges we face, nor is the earth alone,

for Love is present everywhere, transforming darkness into light, despair into hope, death into life.

 

We stay in this time of deep listening until our inner joy is stronger than our fears.

 

Julian gives us a blessing:

“May you each go forward from this place into your daily lives,

blessed with fresh hope, blessed with the joy of your shared communion of love,

prepared to carry light wherever you walk.”

 

As we prepare to leave, the stars emerge to guide us home.

 

 

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Gathering Space for July 1, 2021

The early evening holds diffused light. What a joy for us to feel the warmth of high summer

in the gentle breeze that caresses our skin, ruffles our hair, touches our face as we look up at the sky.

Some of our companions are carrying books of poetry. We glimpse an author's name: Mary Oliver

and then another: Rainer Maria Rilke. There must be a poetry reading planned.

Others are carrying what look like trays and containers of food. Are those bottles of wine in an ice bucket?

Fine reasons to hurry towards our gathered circle, and find places to sit on the grass or low stone walls,

still warm from the day's sun.

Once everyone has found a place and we've greeted one another, an expectant quiet arises

as we wait to see who will open the circle with the lighting of the fire pot.

Patty Ann stands, comes to the circle's centre to light the fire.

After she returns to her place on the grass, she speaks: "Some of us got together on Zoom

to select poetry for this summer night. We’d been reading Merton's Hour of Terce in his poem to Hagia Sophia.

We found that we liked best the way Sophia is described as being at the core of all life,

'in all things like the air receiving sunlight.' We wondered what it would be like to select poems

that showed how this Presence of Love is found in the four elements of fire, earth, water and air.

"Each of us took on the task of finding a poem or a piece of beautiful prose about one of the elements.

"To make it more interesting we thought a woman writer should speak for the

feminine elements of water and earth and a man for the masculine ones of fire and wind."

 Shirley speaks: "I'll read Teilhard's words about the element of Fire, but first I would like to read for us

the words of Kathleen Duffy that show Teilhard's desire to be immersed in Matter, Mater, Mother Earth:

Sophia was the source of Teilhard’s life. Her constant care for creation during so many billions of years

gave him confidence she would continue to be faithful… Teilhard vowed to steep himself in the sea of matter,

to bathe in its fiery water, to plunge into Earth where it is deepest and most violent, to struggle in its currents,

and to drink of its waters. Filled with impassioned love for Sophia, he dedicated himself body and soul

to the ongoing work needed to transform the cosmos to a new level of consciousness and to transformative love.

"Now here is what Teilhard writes of

FIRE

“This is what I have learnt from my contact with the earth --- the diaphany of the divine

at the heart of a glowing universe, the divine radiating from the depths of matter a-flame.”

 

  Carol Ohmart Behan comes forward to speak:

"My element is EARTH and I shall read from the writings of Susan Griffin."

EARTH

As I go into the Earth, she pierces my heart. As I penetrate further, she unveils me.

When I have reached her center, I am weeping openly. I have known her all my life,

yet she reveals stories to me, and these stories are revelations and I am transformed.

Each time I go to her, I am born like this. Her renewal washes over me endlessly, her wounds caress me.

I become aware of all that has come between us, the blindness, of something sleeping between us.

Now my body reaches out to her. They speak effortlessly, and I learn that at no instant

does she fail me in her presence.  She is as delicate as I am, I know her sentience, I feel her pain

and my own pain comes into me, and my own pain grows large and I grasp this pain with my hands,

and I open my mouth to this pain, I taste, I know and I know why she goes on,

under great weight, with this great thirst, in drought, in starvation, with intelligence in every act

does she survive disaster. This earth is my sister, I love her daily grace, her silent daring,

and how loved I am, how we admire this strength in each other, all that we have lost,

all that we have suffered, all that we know: we are stunned by this beauty,

and I do not forget what she is to me, what I am to her. 

We hold these words in silence for a time.

 

Ellyn comes forward to speak: " You know that Thomas Merton is important in my life. I searched

through his poetry seeking something about the element of air.

"I found this: 'Wind and a Bobwhite'. "

 

AIR

 

Wind and a bobwhite

And the afternoon sun.

By ceasing to question the sun

I have become light,

Bird and wind.

 

My leaves sing.

I am earth, earth

All these lighted things

Grow from my heart.

 

A tall, spare pine

Stands like the initial of my first

Name when I had one.

 

When I had a spirit,

When I was on fire

When this valley was

Made out of fresh air

You spoke my name

In naming Your silence:

 

O sweet, irrational worship!

I am earth, earth

My heart’s love

Bursts with hay and flowers.

 

I am a lake of blue air

In which my own appointed place

Field and valley

Stand reflected.

 

I am earth, earth

Out of my grass heart

Rises the bobwhite.

 

Out of my nameless weeds

His foolish worship.

 

WATER 

Now Suzanne stands and comes to the centre to speak:

"I asked if I might choose a piece of writing on water. I found there were many to choose from

as writers seem to be so inspired by this element. I finally settled on Mary Oliver's poem:

"Last Night the Rain Spoke to Me"

Last night

the rain

spoke to me

slowly, saying,

what joy

to come falling

out of the brisk cloud,

to be happy again

in a new way

on the earth!

 

That’s what it said

as it dropped,

smelling of iron,

and vanished

like a dream of the ocean

into the branches

and the grass below.

Then it was over.

The sky cleared.

I was standing

under a tree.

The tree was a tree

with happy leaves,

and I was myself,

and there were stars in the sky

that were also themselves

at the moment,

at which moment

my right hand

was holding my left hand

which was holding the tree

which was filled with stars

and the soft rain –

imagine! imagine!

the long and wondrous journeys

still to be ours.

We sit in stillness for a time, each of us absorbed in these beautiful stirring images,

these poetic delvings into the elements of our Sophia-infused earth,

our life where we are immersed in Sophia's love.

 

The moon, just seven days past her fullness, appears above the garden.

We stand and begin to prepare for our feast to celebrate life.

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Gathering Space for the Summer Solstice, June 17, 2021

The soft light of evening welcomes us to the Garden on Iona. It is the time of Summer Solstice, the time when sunlight

wakens us early and accompanies our evening activities. These are the days born from our winter dreams

when the longest nights of December Solstice were followed by days whose dawns came earlier.

This is the time when seeds planted in our hearts in winter’s darkness emerge into new life.

Summer Solstice Dawn over Calabogie Lake 2020

We have planned a ritual to celebrate the Solstice. Once all thirty of us have arrived, and found a comfortable place to sit

either on the low stone wall, or on one of our quilts of many colours spread on the grass,

we begin with “A Summer Day”, a poem by Mary Oliver:

Who made the world?

Who made the swan and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean –

the one who has flung herself

out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar

out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth

instead of up and down –

who is gazing around with her enormous

and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and

thoroughly washes her face. 

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention,

how to fall down into the grass,

how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed,

how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

 

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn’t everything die at last,

and too soon ?

 

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

 

 

Mary Oliver’s question echoes around our circle, finds its way inside us….

 

After a time of reflection, another question is asked,

this one from Dolores Whelan’s Celtic Calendar:

What seeds sown in the darkness of winter

have now blossomed and opened in my life?

 

Our mysterious flute player (might she be one of the thirteenth century Augustinian nuns?) is somewhere nearby

within the crumbled remains of the Chapel. Her notes rise to flow across the air, to clear our thoughts, focus our hearts,

allowing memories of winter plantings to rise in us, showing us how those hopes have emerged, what they have become in our lives…..

( a time to shape our responses...)

After each woman speaks, the group prays together: 

May you see and celebrate the triumph of light as it is expressed

in all that flowers in you at this time.

 

While each of us remembers, recognizes, shares our blossoming, and receives the group’s blessing,

the last light of day is slowly ebbing from the sky. As the sky dims, then darkens, the moon,

waxing towards her fullness on June 24th, is rising. Her light illuminates our familiar garden with magic.

When the last person has spoken, it’s time to stand, to move about, to begin the ritual we have adapted

from Kathleen Glennon’s book: Heartbeat of the Seasons.

Opening: We gather in a circle around our unlit fire pot.

When the fire has been lighted, we sing, with these gestures:

Fire of the sun

- reach up to draw in the light from the sun

Fire of the stars

-reach up to draw the fire from the stars

Fire of the earth

-reach down to draw the fire from the earth

Burning

- cross your arms at your wrists

and make dancing movements with your fingers

 

Fire of the rocks

-join hands and sway to the music for this verse

Fire of the clay

Fire of the hearth

Burning

Fire in the heart

-extend arms and place hands on your heart

Fire in the head

-extend arms and place hands on your head

Fire in our veins

-with your right hand gently rub the veins on your left arm

Burning

- cross your arms at your wrists and make dancing movements with your fingers.

 

 

Blessing of the Fire with Water from a Local Holy Well

 

We bless this fire with water from our holy well.

May the lighting of this fire inflame the hearts of all with love and passion.

May this fire bring blessings of peace and protection to all.

May this fire remind us of the first spark of light which flared forth

at the beginning of time.

 

 

Lighting of Candles

 

Each woman is given a small unlit tea-light. A large candle is lighted from the fire pot

and light is passed around the circle for each one’s tea-light.

 

Hymn of Praise

 

Response after each verse:  How beautiful the light!

How glorious its splendour!

 

Sacred this fire of midsummer’s eve.

Sacred the light of our sun.

Sacred are you, the Most Holy One,

Who kindles light and fire.

 

Sacred the moment

When you sparkled

   Forth a fireball of love and creativity,

 

Sacred that kindling (fourteen) billion years ago.

 

Sacred the birthing of supernovas,

The fiery activity of stars,

The formation of galaxies,

The formation of elements.

 

Sacred the calling forth

Of our Milky Way.

Sacred the seeding of our sun

Aflame with brilliant energy.

 

Sacred the blaze that whirled

The planets and shaped our earth.

Sacred the formation of earth’s crust

And atmosphere.

 

Sacred the trees, the plants, the flowers

All kissed into light, into life by sun.

Sacred the fish that swim, and birds that fly,

All creatures that breathe the fire of creativity.

 

Sacred the creation

Of humankind

With sun’s burning love

And passion.

 

Sacred the seed of fire in all that is.

Fire that reflects your eternal light.

Each heart aflame with a flame of fire,

Each eye reflecting your burning love.

 

Sacred this holy night

Aglow with star-light, moon light,

Love light, fire light,

Candle light, God light.

 

Dancing around the fire

 

Finally, we express our joy, our happiness, on this Solstice night in a dance.

In Irish style we will dance around the fire three times to the right.

In our hearts we bless the numinous presence from an earlier century

as she plays a lively dance tune for us on her flute.

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Gathering Space for June 10, 2021

We are nearing the time of the Summer Solstice. This evening, the Garden of the ruined nunnery on Iona is an earthly paradise. The air is warm, fragrant with late spring blossoms, alive with birdsong. We take time to greet one another before finding our own place to sit, either on the worn stones of the long-ago Chapter House walls, or on the soft welcoming grasses.

 

Jean is with us this evening. We greet her with joy, aware that it was Jean’s inspiration that led us to create our Communion of Creative Fire. Over the years since, Jean has continued to offer us teachings and guidance. Tonight we have asked her to speak of the ancient times when the goddess was honoured. 

 

Jean begins: As the remarkable work of Marija Gimbutas and others has shown, the culture of old Europe from about 7000 to 3500 B.C. was essentially a neolithic agrarian economy centering around the rites and worship of the Mother Goddess.

These were basically egalitarian male-female societies, non-patriarchal, with descent and inheritance passed through the mother and with women playing key roles in all aspects of life and work. The art abounds with scenes and symbols from nature, with sun and water, serpents, birds and butterflies, and everywhere, images, figurines, and votive offerings of the Triple Goddess in one or another of her forms as Maiden, Mother, and Crone. All in all, one gains the impression of a gentle, high culture, nurturing, playful and pacific.

 

This evening, I invite you into a guided meditation that will take us through the ancient times of the goddess, ending with a ritual celebration honouring Isis, from two thousand years ago in Egypt:

Select a partner and sit back-to-back, or in a position that keeps your back supported and straight, as we journey to the goddess and give her the crown.

Hold your hands in your lap as if you were carrying the crown. Envision the crown being made of the material that is the most sacred or appealing to you so that your gift to Isis will be unique to you. Is it gold, is it silver? Is it jeweled or enameled? Is it made of moonbeams? What does it look like, feel like? Is it heavy? Is it gossamer? Have a sense of the material and beauty of this crown. Now, begin to hum gently. You’re going to hum as you travel the path to the goddess.

See yourself in the foothills of a mountain. As you climb this mountain, you’ll find yourself passing through the realms of history.

In the foothills you pass early human beings. You see them worshiping a maternal figure of stone. Her body is very full, but her facial features are as yet uncarved. You pass by them, heading up this mountain on a spiral path until you see people of the Neolithic Age, planting seeds along with effigies of the goddess to ensure fertility. These are full-figured goddesses, but now they have faces, some with birds’ heads.

And you pass up and you pass through the great high civilizations of Egypt, see temples built to Isis and Hathor and Sekhmet and all the other representatives of the Great Goddess. Passing still upward, you enter the Tigris and Euphrates valley and observe the rites of Inanna, Astarte and Ishtar. Climbing farther, you witness a simple fisherwoman in China praying to Kwan Yin, hoping for the goddess’s infinite compassion to shine upon her. Traveling upward now through civilizations of South America, you pass the Aztec temples and see the worship of the goddess Tonantzin. Later, in the same place you see how she has been transformed into the Virgin of Guadalupe. In Africa you find people worshiping the goddess in her manifold guises, especially the thrilling and life-giving Oya. In North America you discover the goddess as she unfolds in the Corn Mother and Spider Woman and White Buffalo Woman.

Continuing up the mountain, you find yourself in Greece, where you visit the temples of Aphrodite and observe the Panathenaea festival to Athena. You join in the Eleusinian mysteries and participate in the drama of Demeter and her daughter, Persephone. In Rome you partake of the mysteries of Isis. While farther north you reverence the Celtic Bridget.

You pass onward and upward to Glastonbury and the isle of Iona, (yes this very place where we now are gathered!) where you encounter the rites of Cerridwen and her Holy Grail that contains every good thing. You observe the Druid priestesses who come under the name of Morgana. You pass through the Crusades and see the devotion given to the Black Madonna, hearing the sounds of Salve Regina. Going up and up and up. You pass through the Middle Ages and you see and hear the sound of stone being hewn. You are in the midst of the creation of the great cathedral of Notre Dame – Isis raised in a later form.

And you pass up and up and up. You move through Renaissance Italy, seeing the glory of Leonardo painting Isis in the form of the Mona Lisa. Climbing up and up, you see Queen Elizabeth of England as Isis Astarte.

As you rise up and up and up, you see all the guises and variations – across time and through many cultures – of the Great One, the Beautiful One, the goddess in history. Finally, you reach our own time at the top of the mountain.

There you find a shining temple and you go into it, still carrying the crown. You know that you are in the realm of the goddess. The art and architecture here are very strange. They are both very ancient and very new, a blending of the distant past and the distant future. The ceiling contains star maps of other places in the universe where the goddess’s presence is honored and felt.

You find yourself approaching a throne, and you sense the presence of the Great Goddess on that throne. You approach her reverently and give her the crown, saying, “Great Isis, here is your crown.”

She bows to you with grace and elegance, and she thanks you for acknowledging who she truly is.

And then, here in her presence, she gives you a gift. It is a gift that in some way contains the essence of that which you require. It is a great gift and only you will know what it is. It fills an emptiness; it fulfills a need. You have three minutes of clock time, equal subjectively to all the time you need, to receive the gift of Isis, the Great Goddess, the Great Creative Universal Principle. Receive your gift now.

(three minutes…..)

Having received her gift, leave the great hall of the goddess, knowing that she is always with you in whatever form she takes in your life.

Leave the shining temple and begin to go down the mountain, past all the civilizations and all the forms of the goddess. Through the present civilizations… through the Industrial Revolution… then the Renaissance… the Age of Exploration. Down and down, past the Crusades, past the Celtic times. Down, down, down, through all the empires and cultures in which the goddess has reigned. South America, North America, Africa, the Far East. Down past Greece, Babylonia, Egypt. Down past the Neolithic era. Past the early cave people. Until you reach the bottom of the mountain of time and stand once again in its foothills.

Now, open your eyes and sense your gift. Sense its value and importance in your life. Know that part of what happens in the gifting… is that you are given the essence of what you need as well as the courage to accept new challenges and opportunities. But above all, know yourself to have been recognized, honored, and gifted by that principle of creativity, kindness, and renewal that sometimes goes under the name of the Great Goddess.

            

 

We thank Jean for leading us in this meditation. We think of how our lives will be transformed as we weave this gift, this knowing, this love into our days.

Gathering Space for May 27, 2021

The Flower Moon, nearer to earth than she will be in the coming months, illumines our path as we enter

the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery on Iona. It is late evening as we arrive, having received a message from Elspeth

that she has prepared a ritual for us that would be best done in darkness. 

We approach the place where our quilts are spread out on the grass so as to form a circle

with the lighted fire pot placed at the centre. Elspeth is already here waiting for us.

When we are comfortably seated, having taken care to allow for social distancing, Elspeth welcomes us.

“When we last gathered here, I told you the Story of Bone Woman. After the story, I invited you to reflect on

who in your life is that loving presence, the one who gazes at you in the lamplight, expresses compassion,

offers to untangle your life. This is the one whose heart becomes a drum as you become the drummer,

calling yourself into wholeness, and into union with this Love.

“This mysterious presence we may now see as an archetype, a co-creative partner for our lives.

In a few moments, when you hear the music begin on my ipad, I invite you to stand,

to find a space alone where you have room to dance, and can still hear my voice as I read for you

the words of the “Process of Union with the Archetype”, as Jean Houston describes it in her book, The Hero and The Goddess:

Process of Union with the Archetype

(adapted from The Hero and the Goddess pp.193-195)

(Note: to do this process on your own, choose some music you love; I chose the Flower Duet. You might record your own voice reading this so you can freely move to the words and music or simply put on some music, and after reading this script a few times, go ahead.)

IMAGE BY SUSAN SEDDON BOULET

Begin now slowly to turn in place, turning, turning. And while you turn, listen closely to these words.

You are now prepared to meet and join with your archetype. This archetype can be considered in several ways.

It might be the goddess-self you have come to know within you. It may be known as the Beloved Friend within.

It may be experienced as a divine presence whom you have met before in your life, or one you have yearned to meet.

In what is about to happen the relationship between you and what we are calling the archetype will be deepened and matured.

Continue to turn now as you bring to this meeting the fullness of your human virtue with the added strength

of your longing. Not overwhelmed by this meeting, you are instead enriching your sense of relationship

to the archetype so the archetype can deepen you and can serve as midwife of your soul.

And continuing to turn – or, if you prefer, now moving into a dance – but meeting and deepening your relationship to the archetype.

Ask the archetype to be careful not to overwhelm you. Together, you will move gently, gracefully into each other’s presence,

experiencing the joy of mutual presence and loving communion. And in so doing, deepening the archetype,

helping him/her/it reach the next stage of archetypal evolution. And that is happening now…

The two of you now are dancing together. The rich knowledge and communion are flowing back and forth in the dance…

The two of you dancing together now. You, the human being, are now deepening and thus are able

to meet the archetype in communion. The archetype is deepening through your humanity

as well as through your new ability to meet the archetype fully.

Feel this initiation, this mutual deepening, back and forth. The god, the goddess, the depth self,

is being welcomed and grown beyond its archaic stuckness. Not losing the ancient qualities, but strengthening them

so they are more available for present and future times….Both of you are meeting each other

as full beings in this moment of holy time, this moment of sacred kairos. 

…know now that as it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be, the human and the divine dance without end.

 (The music and dance continue until a natural ending occurs.)

Once we have completed this dance, Elspeth invites us to come to a table behind the quilts

where lanterns illumine the cool white wine, the fruit and baking that Bridie has been quietly preparing while we danced.

“Let’s celebrate coming to know our archetype better,” Elspeth says.

“Under the Flower Moon, let’s experience the joy of this partnership.”

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Gathering Space for May 13, 2021

The young moon has not yet risen in the skies over the Isle of Iona in the North Atlantic. The evening is soft, still warm in the lingering old-gold sunlight. Elspeth our Storyteller is waiting for us in the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery.

The tent of our winter gatherings is gone. In its place, spread out to receive us, we see three quilts, each a joyous profusion of bright and dark shadings in contrasting patterns, the quilts that show us the longings of our hearts, the delights of our spirits, the way the unique gifts of our souls harmonize, dance with one another.

When we are seated, we look towards Elspeth, as she lights our fire pot where it rests on the low wall of the ancient stone ruins.

“What story have you brought us this evening?” Clara asks.

“What sort of story do you wish to hear?”

Silently we consider, allowing the memories of loss and fear brought by the pandemic to return, strangely comingling with awareness of its unexpected gifts: a deeply felt knowing of the interconnectedness of life on our planet, a rise in compassion for those we love and those we will never meet, all of whom have been walking this dark path together. Images of the beauty of the earth as it blossoms into sudden life with the coming of spring to the northern hemisphere, as it cools into gentle autumn in the southern climes…

“Do you know a story that tells of love and the life-death-life cycle?” Yvette asks.

Elspeth smiles, her eyes alight with pleasure. “Yes. One I love very much. Shall we begin?”

Once more, as she does with the deepest, truest, most magical tales, Elspeth asks us to take deep, centering, relaxing breaths.

She watches us, choosing her time to begin.

This story is older than Christianity, older than the druids, nearly as old as Ireland herself, for it comes from the age when the ancestor gods, the Tuatha De Danaan, were honoured here. There was a maiden, beautiful and filled with grace. So lovely was she that people called her “Aine”, which was in the old language, “Delight”.  But Aine offended her father in some way. Some say that her name hints that it was by her very pleasure in life itself, her love of music and dance. No one remembers just why or how he became enraged. One day, he marched her to the edge of the Cliffs beyond their village, and hurled her down, down, into the depths of the sea. The force of the thrust sent her deep under the waves, and before she could swim upwards, she was drowned entirely.

Her beautiful body sank down to the very floor of the sea, and there she lay, lifeless, as the eons passed. The fish and other sea creatures devoured her flesh, her eyes, until only her bones remained. Crustaceans moved in, fastening themselves in her empty eye sockets and on the ivory keys of her teeth.

More eons passed. Over time, the great waves carved a deep bay among the mountains. No fisherman ever came there seeking the salmon who flourished in abundance, for it was believed that the bay was haunted.

Famine came upon Ireland and fishermen were putting out further and further from their villages, seeking food. One day, a fisherman in a small coracle came into the bay.  A long piece of fish gut with a hooked end dangled from his fishing rod of polished oak wood. He waited patiently in this bay, so far from his home village, dreaming of taking a great fish back to his people. Dreaming of their gratitude.

Suddenly, he felt a strong tug on his line. He turned to reach into the depths of his coracle for the net he had brought with him.

But far, far below the surface, his hook was caught, not in the mouth of a salmon but inside the rib cage of Bone Woman. And she was not of a mind to be caught! She began to thrash, this way and that, on the floor of the sea. Yet the more she struggled, the more the fish gut became entangled in her bones, and the more the fish gut became entangled, the shorter it became, slowly, slowly dragging her upwards. The fisherman was just turning back, a net in his right hand, his heart already beating wildly with joy at his great catch, when her bald head arose above the waters. He saw the crustaceans gleaming in her eye sockets, glinting from her teeth.

The fisherman’s eyes rolled back into his head. He bellowed a blood-freezing cry of terror. He dropped his net, seized his paddle and began furiously to make his way back up the coast to his village. Of course, Bone Woman was still wrapped in the fish gut which by now was so short that she seemed to be skimming the tops of the waves. He turned once, and seeing her following him, bellowed once more in terror, then paddled all the more fiercely for home. Meanwhile, as Bone Woman danced over the waters, the far-off days of her maidenhood came to her as a dim memory of joy. She lifted her bony feet, one at a time, while she hummed an ancient tune. She began to know delight once more.  

When the fisherman at last came near the shore of his own village, he paddled only to the point where he could leap out of the boat into shallow water. Then lifting his light coracle onto his head, he seized his precious fishing rod and began to run towards his cottage. He placed his coracle on the ground and fell in the door, still clutching his fishing rod. For a long, long while he lay panting on the floor, whispering a prayer to Anu, the Great Mother, the womb of life. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” he repeated as his breathing slowly returned to normal and his heart stopped pounding like a bodhran in his chest.

By now the early darkness had risen. The man rose slowly to his feet and reached across the wooden table near the door for his seal oil lamp. Taking some flint and tinder from a small box beside the lamp, he lit it….and immediately dark shadows leapt up to dance on the familiar walls of his cottage, illuminating table and chairs, the small cot where he slept… and there, just by the door … what was that? The tangled form of Bone Woman herself lay there, her knee bones trapped in her ribs, her left shoulder twisted, pulled downwards, her right arm above her head.

The fisherman would never be able to explain, either to himself or to any other, what happened next. Perhaps, he thought, it was a trick of the golden lamplight. But as he gazed at her, a feeling of kindness came over him.

He walked closer to her, knelt down by her. With gentle love, with compassion in his heart, in his very fingers, he began to unwind the fish gut that entrapped her. He first untangled her toes, then her feet, then the long bones of her legs. All the while, though he did not know he did it, he was humming an old melody, one his mother sang to him when he was a boy.

Finally, when he had unwound the fish gut entirely, she sat there before him, as whole, as complete as a bone woman could be. It was then that he noticed how chill the night had become. He walked over to his cot, carefully lifted the old quilt his mother had made for him and carried it to her. Gently, he wrapped the quilt around her.

Meanwhile, Bone Woman had not moved. She sat very still all the while he untangled her; all the while he wrapped her warmly. She was afraid to speak. Afraid to offend him. Afraid he would hurl her back into the sea. And she did not now want to go back into the sea.

The fisherman was busy tending to the rewinding of his fish gut, the cleaning and polishing of his fishing rod. When all was in good order, he placed the rod on a shelf in his cottage. Because there was no further work to do, and no food to eat, he lay down on his cot and fell into a deep sleep.

Still Bone Woman sat motionless.

Now, as sometimes happens during sleep, a tear slipped out from one of the fisherman’s closed eyes. Bone Woman saw this. And she was so-oo-oo-oo thirsty! With a clicking, a clacking, a rapping, a tapping, she made her careful way across the floor to where he slept. She placed her bony mouth over the tear and at once there sprang forth a spring of fresh sweet cool water. She drank and drank and drank, slaking a thirst that was millennia-long. 

She placed her bony hand on his chest, reaching deeply inside until she grasped his beating heart. She lifted it up and out, placed it on her knees and began to drum upon it as on a bodhran. While she drummed, she chanted, “Flesh, flesh, flesh. Flesh, flesh, flesh. Flesh, flesh, flesh.” As she chanted, warm living flesh grew upon her arms, her legs, her hands, her feet, her head, her lovely face, her neck and her torso. Her eyes became full and luminous. She chanted the sweet opening between her legs, her large tender breasts, and the long red-gold hair that fell down her back. When she stopped drumming, she was fully a woman. She returned his heart to the sleeping man’s breast. Then she lay down beside him, and he wakened to embrace her. And so together they became entangled in a good and holy way, and lived on as lovers all the days of their lives.

Elspeth allows a time of silence for us to receive the tale, to let it do its work of magic within us.

“When you take the story of Bone Woman into your heart, notice how it resonates with your own experience:

Where are you in the story now? Do you still lie under the watery weight of the sea?

Do you long to be drawn back into the light of day?

Have you been drawn forth by someone you do not know who’s taken you home?

Who is now looking at you in the light of the lamp? Untangling you? Calling you into fullness of life?

Becoming one with you in a good and holy way, a deep wise loving presence in the depths of your being?

“Let’s stay here now in silence as we allow the story to dance within us.

"When you feel ready, you may wish to write a poem or a reflection, perhaps make a drawing or painting.

Next week, bring what you’ve created with you when we gather here once more.”

 

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Gathering Space for Easter Part Two: April 6, 2021

Under a light cloud, hurried along by a fresh breeze off the Atlantic, we come into the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery on Iona.

The moon is waning to a narrow memory of her Paschal fullness, the temperature barely above freezing.

Our hearts lift in a joyous lightness as we see our Gathering Tent, still in place. This is not an evening for sitting outdoors.

Each of us is carrying a tray or basket or covered plate of Easter baking. The clink of bottles suggests someone has brought wine.

The celebration of Easter continues.

Inside we greet our companions, already carefully seated at a distance of two metres/six feet apart around the lighted fire pot.

As we select a silk cushion, Colleen comments that soon these lovely comfortable works of art will be stored away;

soon we’ll be holding our gatherings outdoors.

“Don’t forget we’ll be sitting on our colourful Communion Quilts when that happens,” Colette reminds us.

Mary Ellen stands now and says, "Last week Cynthia brought us a poem about Mary Magdalene’s encounter with the Risen One.

Tonight I’ve brought another poem by Jan Richardson about Mary Magdalene's experience of Easter Morning.

Jan begins with the moment when someone whom she believes is the gardener speaks to her:

Woman, why are you weeping?

Whom are you looking for? (John 20: 15)

 

You had not imagined

that something so empty

could fill you

to overflowing,

 

and now you carry

the knowledge

like an awful treasure

or like a child

that curls itself

within your heart:

 

how the emptiness

will bear forth

a new world

you cannot fathom

but on whose edge

you stand.

 

So why do you linger?

You have seen,

and so you are

already blessed.

You have been seen,

and so you are

the blessing.

There is no other word

you need.

There is simply

to go

and tell.

There is simply

to begin.

 

Mary Ellen has a photo for each of us to take home.

It shows the statue ccreated By Elizabeth Frink that stands in the grounds of Salisbury Cathedral in England:

Mary Magdalene is striding forth to take the good news of the Risen Jesus to the apostles.

“I have some music for a Sacred Dance on my ipad,” says Shirley. “It’s Leonard Cohen’s Alleluia sung in Italian by the group: IL DIVO.

After this reflective dance, we begin the Easter Feast.

 

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Gathering Space for March 30, 2021

The Paschal moon is two days past her fullness. Winds off the North Atlantic do their best to disperse the cloud cover,

allowing brief glimpses of her radiance.

We come into the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery, our hearts lifting to see our Gathering Tent still in place.

The evening air is chill at 8 degrees Celsius, 47 degrees Fahrenheit. And those clouds look ready to release cold rain.

We hurry inside out of the wind, choose a silk cushion and sit down.

The fire pot is lighted at the centre of our circle. As we take our places and greet our companions.

Tonight we will celebrate Easter in poetry, in song and dance and later there will be a feast of food and wine

already set on the long table that rests against the wall of the monastery.

Cynthia stands to begin our celebration: "I’ve brought a poem by Jan Richardson that was written as a blessing

for Mary Magdalene, the first person to whom Jesus showed himself after the Resurrection:

Jesus said to her, “Mary!” John 20:16

The Magdalene’s Blessing

 

You hardly imagined

standing here,

everything you ever loved

suddenly returned to you,

looking you in the eye

and calling your name.

 

And now

you do not know

how to abide this hole

in the center

of your chest,

where a door

slams shut

and swings open

at the same time,

turning on the hinge

of your aching

and hopeful heart.

 

I tell you,

This is not a banishment

from the garden.

 

This is an invitation,

a choice,

a threshold,

a gate.

 

This is your life

calling to you

from a place

you could never

have dreamed,

but now that you

have glimpsed its edge,

you cannot imagine

choosing any other way.

 

So let the tears come

as anointing,

as consecration,

and then

let them go.

 

Let this blessing

gather itself around you.

 

Let it give you

what you will need

for this journey.

 

You will not remember

the words –

they do not matter.

 

All you need to remember

is how it sounded

when you stood

in the place of death

and heard the living

call your name.

 

(Jan Richardson in Circle of Grace)

 

While we are quietly taking in the wonder, the power of these words, Cynthia passes around the circle copies

for each of us of the painting by Sieger Koder inspired by that first Easter Morning:

 

 

Now the music begins, calling us to dance. What a great way to warm up after sitting still.

Music  We Dance… until the Easter Feast begins.

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Gathering Space for March 23, 2021

As we come into the Garden beside the ruins of the 13th c. Augustinian Nunnery on Iona, we stop outside our Gathering Tent to gaze upwards. The waxing moon looks down upon us with an intensity that makes the breath catch in our throats.

“Mother Moon,” Clara says. “I wonder if she’d like to join us this evening.”

“The moon is an image of the Sacred Feminine,” Kate comments. “She’s light in our darkness.

"Sometimes she is herself wholly dark. The dark feminine.”

The ruffling wind rises, stirring the chilly air. If it were summer, even late spring,

we could stay outdoors, hold our gathering here under the Moon’s benevolent gaze. Reluctantly, we go inside.

We join our companions who are already seated around the lighted fire pot.

Kate speaks to us: “Just now, outdoors, we were looking at the moon. Tonight her radiance brings us joy but we know her light is not always with us. Like the Sacred Feminine, the moon too has her dark side. I've brought some writings to share with you on the Dark Feminine. The first is from the Jungian writer Sylvia Senensky. This passage is from her book, Healing and Empowering the Feminine:

We have come to a time when we can no longer remain silent.  We are being called upon by the sorrowing and powerful Dark Feminine to know our own darkness and the profound richness of all dark places, even when they are laden with pain.  Through her we know the mystery of existence and the sacredness of the cycles of life.  We learn how important the destruction of the old ways is to the rebirth of the new.  When she steps into our lives and awakens us, we can be shattered to our core, and we know, as we see the tears streaming down her face, that she too is holding us in her compassionate and loving embrace.

We need to know her as the source of life in the material realm, and to know her sorrow at how we have so unconsciously set out to destroy her...our Mother Earth.  She is calling upon us, each in our way to do our inner work, to become her allies, to become the best human beings we know how to be; to allow our creativity, our compassion and our love to flow to ourselves and to all life forms on this planet.  This is the lesson of the Feminine we all need to remember.  We need to honour our earth and all creatures, human and other, that she supports.  We need to nourish ourselves, each other, all children, and the unbelievable creative potential within each human being....As we come to a place of love and compassion for ourselves, our struggles, and our own vulnerable humanity, we will at the same time begin to kindle a similar compassion for others.  Love attracts love.  If we flood our planet with loving and transformative energy, our actions will begin to mirror our feelings.  We will come home to ourselves.

There is a time of quiet as we allow these words to resonate within our hearts. After a time, Kate continues:

"I invite you now to join with me in a contemplative practice that I engage in each morning, sitting in quiet stillness.

"I invite you to become aware of your breath, gently breathing in the healing sacred Breath of the cosmic Spirit of Love,

sending it forth as a transformative healing for the whole world. 

"Let us together hold this intention as we stay focused on the Spirit's Breath -- in and down through the chakras --

and out to wherever the Spirit desires to move with her healing presence and benediction." 

 

In the stillness, we spend time allowing the Breath of the Spirit to move in us, through us and out to the world.

We continue this practice for fifteen minutes.

…………

Now Kate speaks once more: "A prayer arose from within me as we engaged in this breathing together.

I would like to share it with you:  

I sit in this gathering space
in silence and thanksgiving

aware of Wisdom's sacred Presence.
She wraps me gently in her cloak of knowing
assuring me again

that Love holds this pregnant universe
in compassionate, creative embrace,
that Hope awaits with outstretched arms
expectant hands cupped to receive
the promised new birth.

In silence she offers me her cloak of knowing
inviting me to remember
her constant Presence and her gifting
of Creative Love and Expectant Hope.

                                                     

Who else would like to share with us a prayer, an image, a poem, a thought

that arose for you during this time?

You may share your response on our facbook page or in an email to our Communion.

Please send this in time for next week's posting, before March 30th.

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Gathering Space for March 16, 2021

 

Though the days are growing longer as the Equinox draws near, a cloak of darkness covers the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery on this moonless night. Peering out from the drifting clouds, the distant stars gaze at the clusters of women, warmly wrapped against temperatures not much above freezing, as they hurry towards the Gathering Tent.

 

"You'd think they'd look up now and then," a young star mutters. "I'm giving them my most radiant shimmer."

 

Inside, the circle of women forms around Elspeth who has returned as she promised to reflect on the story of Etain.

Once everyone is settled, Violet lights the fire pot, and speaks:  

 

"Remember the caught-breath silence in our Gathering Tent last week as Elspeth ended her tale of Etain?

Then our storyteller added that Etain's tale is seen by some as a metaphor for our time, telling how the feminine aspect of God,

the goddess, has been transformed by treachery into something else, blown by sea winds, drowned, swallowed and finally rebirthed.

"I invite you now to speak of any signs you see within your own heart and spirit, among your friends, family members, and across the planet that suggest a transformation, a new birth in spirituality is about to begin."

 

Colette speaks: "I had a dream. In this dream I was in a learning situation within a small group.  We’re receiving a teaching about the amygdala which is part of the brain (related to memories, emotional reactions, trauma and fear as I later found in my research).  

Colette

"In the dream the question I pose is “what does it look like?”   In response to my question I’m shown a serpent head and neck. The rest of its body is a braid (like Brigit’s braid).  Then in the dream I ask, “But where is this situated in the body?”  The answer I’m given is that it’s not situated anywhere in particular in the body but that it’s an energetic reality (that courses through one’s whole being I conclude).  I am in total wonder at this response.

 

"This dream came associated with another dream that pointed to woundedness of the feminine immediately followed by symbols of transformation and healing, alchemy. After such rich readings on the Divine Feminine, the Sacred Feminine relating to the symbol of the serpent and the beautiful drawing of Brigit and her braids what a delightful revelation, gift. I remember:  the Sacred Feminine wants to be embodied, come through me, us.  And so She is."

 

Elspeth speaks: "Ah, Colette. Thank you for this beautiful sharing of your dreams and your further reflections on it.

I too have found that it is in our dreams that the Sacred Feminine, the Goddess, makes herself known to us."

 

Anne Kathleen speaks: "After hearing Etain's story, I remembered reading a book called Women of the Celts by the Breton French writer Jean Markale. He writes of the buffeting and banishment of the feminine, and her amazing rebirth.

I brought his book here tonight to read a section:

Within the patriarchal framework (goddesses) were often obscured, tarnished and deformed, and submerged into the depth of the unconscious. But they do still exist, if only in dormant state, and sometimes rise triumphantly to rock the supposedly immovable foundations of masculine society. The triumph of Yahweh and Christ was believed sanctified forever, but from behind them reappears the disturbing and desirable figure of the Virgin Mary with her unexpected names: Our Lady of the Water, Our Lady of the Nettles, Our Lady of the Briars, Our Lady of the Mounds, Our Lady of the Pines.

But in spite of the veneration accorded her over the centuries and the public declaration of successive dogmas related to Mary, the authorities of the Christian Church have always made her a secondary character, overshadowed and retiring, a model of what women ought to be. Now the pure and virginal servant of man, the wonderful mother who suffers all heroically, she is no longer the Great Goddess before whom the common herd of men would tremble, but Our Lady of the Night.

Yvette speaks: "I was very touched by Kate Fitzpatrick's writings on the snake emerging from her old skin as a symbol of new life, and of transformation. I read it at a time when I saw new skin emerging under an injury.

Yvette

"I have a piece by Thealogian Carol Christ on this theme: St. Brigid’s male counterpart, St. Patrick, was said to have driven all of the snakes out of Ireland.  This legend reiterates the Biblical association of snakes with evil and temptation.  In Old Europe snakes were symbols of life and regeneration….In driving snakes out of Ireland, St. Patrick… was re-enacting the myth of slaying of the Goddess. 

"Kate Fitzpatrick tells of a workshop she led called The Power of Serpent Rising’. She writes: I felt the first resistance to the work on St Patrick’s day as the old saint’s spirit lashed out against the possibility of snakes being awakened again in Ireland. This work with Serpent was very powerful. In preparation for the workshop I found I had to sit in silence for long periods of time and hold absolute stillness and breathe very consciously. In this practice I felt the power of Serpent energy in my body as a vital force. She brought her gifts of healing, transformation and a sense of balance of all opposites…I trusted the ancient priestess spirits who came to guide the work with Serpent. Their connection to Brigid as an archetypal feminine energy started to show itself. "

Elspeth speaks: "Thank you for these powerful words and insights. Pay attention to your dreams as Colette did,

and to your life experiences as Yvette did, as well as to what you come across in books or poems.

"May I close our time together tonight with a poem by Nicola Slee:"

 

Christa Returning       

You think she has left

But she has not.  She is resting.

You think she has gone underground

But she has not.  She has veiled herself.

 

You think she is powerless

But she is gathering her power,

Drawing it back to herself from where

It has been dispersed, scattered.

You think she is not speaking

Only because you do not

Hear the language of her silence.

You think she is alone

But she has never been.

 

You think she has lost all her names and seasons

But there have always been those who have kept her ways.

 You think that the pattern is broken

But see, she spins the chaos into waves and whorls

You can’t yet decipher.  Keep looking.

 

She has never left, though you couldn’t find her.

It is we who are returning.

 

 

 

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Gathering Space for March 9, 2021

It's early evening on Iona as we walk towards our Gathering Tent in the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery. In this second week of March, Brigid, as promised, is breathing life into the mouth of dead winter. Those of us who have made the imaginal journey from Canada and the United States are enchanted. The warm spring air, 51 degrees Fahrenheit, 11 Celsius is a gift from the goddess. Cynthia finds it refreshingly cool as Australia’s summer wanes.  An added gift is that the skies are clear, giving promise that the moon in her last quarter will be rising to bless our gathering.

As we approach the tent, we see a woman just ahead of us, about to go inside.

It’s Ellyn who recognizes her first. "That's Elspeth! I hope she has a story for us."

Inside, as we gather around the fire pot on our large silk patterned cushions, we see that Elspeth is already seated,

smiling at the familiar faces around her.

Mary Teske lights the fire pot, while Clara welcomes Elspeth: "We’re happy you’ve come to join us this evening, Elspeth.

"Have you brought another tale of Brigid?"

Elspeth speaks: "I know you’ve been reflecting on Brigid in her Cosmic Presence through the luminous writings of Kate Fitzpatrick.

You know by now that Brigid has many facets, as both saint and goddess. The story I have for you tonight is an ancient tale,

believed to be perhaps the earliest story of a sacred feminine presence in Ireland. It’s a love story: "the Wooing of Etain",

a very long tale. We would be here past midnight were I to tell it fully. So I’ll just give the beginning in the ancient way,

as it was translated from the Irish by the writer Ann Moray in her book A Fair Stream of Silver.

Then I'll tell the rest of the tale as briefly as may be. 

"The story begins at the time when the Tuatha de Danann, whom Kate Fitzpatrick mentions in Cosmic Brigid,  

were driven into hiding by the Milesians who conquered Ireland. Here is the tale:

In the early days when the children of the Goddess Danu, the Fairy gods, were defeated by the Sons of Mil,

they agreed to make their vast and beautiful dwelling places inside the mountains and under the rivers and lakes of Ireland.

The High King of the Fairy gods was the Dagda. He played upon his wooden harp to make the seasons to follow one another.

He commanded the winds and the rains and the crops. His people called him “the good god”.

"According to ancient custom, the Dagda sent his son Angus mac Og to be fostered by Midir, the proud Fairy King of Bri Leith.

Angus’ companions were thrice-fifty of the noblest youths in Ireland and thrice-fifty of the loveliest maidens,

and for all their great number, they all lived in one House. Their beds had columns and posts adorned with wrought gold

that gleamed in the light of a precious stone of great size, brilliant in the roof at the centre of the House.

Angus was leader of them all, for the beauty of his form and face and for his gentleness. His days were spent

in the Playing field, in feasting and tale-telling, in harping and minstrelsy, and the reciting of poetry,

and every youth was a chess player in the House of Midir of Bri Leith. 

"Angus stayed with his foster father for nine years, and then he returned to his own sidh, Brugh on the Boyne.

 

"So we have met some of the main characters in the tale," Elspeth says. "A year after Angus had returned

to his home on the River Boyne, Midir paid him a visit. It was the Celtic Festival of Samhain and Angus had invited

many friends to a great celebration. There was riotous, joyous, battle play and Midir, watching from the sidelines,

was hit in the eye. The Dagda's physician healed him but Midir was angry and demanded compensation

as was the law in ancient Ireland.

"Angus agreed. If it is in my power, he said, it is yours. What is your desire?

The hand of Etain who is the gentlest and loveliest in all Ireland.

And where is she to be found? Angus asked.

In Mag Inish, in the North East. She is daughter of the Fairy King Aylill.

"Then it shall be so, the Mac Og said, and at the end of the feasting he set out over the soft, cloud-bright fields

of our many-hued Land, and came to Mag Inish, in the North East.

"Aylill demanded a high bride-price for his daughter as well as commanding that Angus clear twelve fields in his land

and cause twelve rivers to run through them, all before the next dawn. With the help of the Dagda his father,

Angus accomplished all this, and giving Aylill coins in gold and silver for her bride price, took Etain by the hand

and brought her to his home on the River Boyne.

"And the ancient manuscript says, Midir made that company welcome. Etain looked into Midir’s eyes,

and that night she became his bride. For a year and a day, Etain and Midir stayed with Angus celebrating their wedding,

enjoying the harp music, the feasting, the fine wines and the chess games played for precious stones.

"When it came time for Midir to return with Etain to Bri Leith, Angus drew his friend aside. He warned him

to take great care of Etain for, he said, Your wife Fuamnach awaits you and she is a treacherous woman.

The warning was timely for that very night after their arrival, Fuamnach came to Etain's chamber,

struck her with a rod of scarlet quicken tree, and left her as a pool of water on the floor.

"But Etain was so lovely, so filled with joy that the water dried, curled into a brown worm, and from it Etain rose

as a purple fly of wondrous size. The manuscript says, (S)weeter than pipes and horns was the sound of her voice, and the hum of her wings. Her eyes would shine like precious stones in the darkness, and the fragrance and bloom of her would turn away hunger and thirst from anyone around whom she would go, and the spray that fell from her wings would cure all sickness.

ETAIN

"Etain longed for Midir. As soon as her wings dried and became strong enough, she flew to find him.

"He knew her at once, and she accompanied him everywhere. He would fall asleep to the humming of her wings.

"Soon Fuamnach discovered the joy of the lovers. With a powerful spell she banished Etain from Ireland

putting on her a curse that she must fly over the sea without respite, for seven years. If she touched on any bush

or tree or blade of grass she would be blown more fiercely out over the sea.

"At the end of the seven years, exhausted, blinded by her weakness she flew back to land and by chance came

to the home of Angus on the River Boyne. Angus knew her at once and built for her a glass bower

which he filled with healing herbs and fragrant flowers.

"But Fuamnach had been searching for Etain and when she found the bower and saw the kindness Angus was showing to Etain

she was furious. She went to Midir and deceitfully urged him to invite Angus to visit him at Bri Leith.

"As soon as Angus had gone, Fuamnach upended the bower, and put a second curse upon Etain

of seven years of flight over the sea without rest.

"When the seven years ended, Etain almost paralyzed with exhaustion, flew into Ulster and landed on the open roof

of the house of Etar. As she gazed down at a great feast below her, she lost her footing and fell into the wine goblet

of Etar's wife, who unknowingly swallowed the purple fly with her wine.

"Etain was implanted in the womb of the wife of Etar and born nine months later. The child was so astonishingly lovely

that the besotted parents named her after a Fairy princess: Etain.

She had no memory at all of her former life.

"In time Etain, the daughter of Etar, grew into a lovely young woman. Word of her beauty and goodness reached Eochaid,

High King of Ireland. He was seeking a wife, for his people had refused to pay taxes to a King who had no Queen.

"Eochaid wooed and won Etain, and she brought great joy to Ireland when she came to live with the King at Tara.

 "One evening as Etain was walking on the hill of Tara, a strange warrior approached her. He shone with the radiance

of the setting sun, and told Etain he was her husband and her lover, that he had been seeking her for a thousand years.

"Etain turned away and would not look at him. Midir pleaded that she come with him to a wondrous land where

 Warm sweet streams flow though the land,

the choice of mead and wine,

stately folk, without blemish…

We see everyone on every side,

And no one seeth us…

 "But she would not lift her eyes to him.

Etain, would you come with me if your husband the king allows it?

"At this she looked into his eyes. Willingly, she said.

"A year passed and on midsummer morning, as Eochaid stood on the terrace of Tara, a strange warrior appeared,

his shield catching the sunlight so that it dazzled the king's eyes.

"I have come to play chess with you, he said, and immediately a chess board appeared, all of silver

with jewels glowing at each corner. The chess pieces were made of gold by the finest artificers in all of Ireland.

"On the first two mornings, the King defeated the warrior at chess, and each time received the winnings,

amassing fifty horses, fifty red- eared cows and fifty young boars as well as swords with hilts of ivory, silver and gold.

"The King's foster father saw these riches and learned of the strange warrior who could enter locked gates,

but could not win at chess. Take care you lay heavy burden on him next time, his foster father cautioned,

for this is a man of great power.

"In the third game Eochaid said the loser must clear the rocks and stones from the hillocks of Great Meath,

and the rushes from the land of Tethba. You must cut down the forest of Breg, and lay a causeway

over the Great Bog of Tavrach, and all this you must accomplish in a single night.”

"Midir asked only that no one be out of doors until dawn when the work would be completed.

"Secretly the king sent his steward to spy on the work. The steward returned at dawn to report that he had seen magic done,

that all the fairy folk of all the mounds in Ireland had come with great blue fairy oxen to assist Midir.

"Suddenly Midir appeared. He was filled with wrath that he had been spied upon. The King, not wanting to show he was afraid,

agreed to another game of chess. This time he asked Midir what the stake would be.

That the loser give the winner what he desires, Midir said.

"Eochaid agreed. Midir won, to the King's great surprise.

I could have defeated you long before this had I chosen, Midir said.

What is it you desire? Eochaid asked.

My arms about Etain and one kiss from her lips.

"The King thought quickly, and then said: Return in one month's time and you shall have what you desire.

 "As soon as Midir left him, the King summoned his greatest warriors from across Ireland

and set them in two rings around the outer and inner courts of Tara.

"One month later the King and his household were feasting, guarded by the men of strength and hearing

against the man of magic who was to come.

Midir suddenly appeared in their midst, radiant in his splendour. The whole court caught its breath,

and in the pause, Eochaid welcomed him.

Here is how Ann Moray writes of what happened next:

 “What is pledged to me, let it be given to me,” Midir said.

“I have given the matter little thought,” said the King.

“What is promised is due,” Midir said.

Etain was silent, and her cheeks were red as the scarlet rowanberry, and then, by turn, white as snow. "Do not blush, Etain,” Midir said to her. “I have been a year seeking you with gifts and treasures, the richest and most beautiful in Ireland. It is not by the dark magic that I have won you.”

“I will not go with you, Midir, unless the King releases me to you,” Etain replied.

“I will never release you,” Eochaid said. “But as for this stake, I willingly allow this warrior to put his arms about you, and to kiss you, here in the middle of the Royal House, while the hosts of Tara look on.”

“It shall be done,” said Midir, and he took his weapons in his left hand, and with his right arm he held Etain round the waist, and as he kissed her, and kissed her again, he bore her away in his embrace, through the skylight of the House.

The men of Ireland rose in shame about their King, and he led them out in hot pursuit. But Eochaid, High King of Ireland, and his hosts, saw only two snow-white swans in full flight over Tara.

 

There is a caught-breath silence in the Gathering Tent as Elspeth ends her tale.

"This is a tale of great wisdom and some see it as a metaphor for our time, for it tells of the way the goddess

has been transformed by treachery into something else, buffeted by sea winds, drowned, swallowed

and finally rebirthed. Some even see that the time predicted for her to be reborn

from the womb of this present darkness is coming near.

“I invite you to think about these things. I shall return next week to hear your thoughts, your imaginings,

your desires, dreams and hopes about this rebirth.

"But now, as the moon has risen on this almost- spring night, let’s go outdoors to enjoy the beauty."

And so we do that, promising to have a response to the story's themes by next week.

 

 

 ARCHIVES

 

 

Gathering Space for March 2, 2021

Under umbrellas and rain hoods, our bodies bent like trees in the stiff wind, we make our way across the open space of the garden of the ruined 13th c.  Women’s Monastery on Iona. Though the temperature has climbed above freezing, our Gathering Tent is a welcome promise of warmth and shelter. With a quick shake to remove rain from umbrellas and raingear, we open the tent flap and go inside.

 

Blinking to remove drops of moisture from our eyes, we gaze with gratitude upon the tall white candles that stand in silent greeting around the periphery. They suggest a medieval castle, rather than a canvas tent. Many of our companions are already seated on the large embroidered cushions that surround the flaming fire pot.

We join them, greeting our friends, exchanging small bits of news, asking about loved ones who are ill,

expressing our joy at being here once more.

When the murmur of voices, like the poet Yeats’ “bee-loud glade”, finally stills, Anne Kathleen speaks:

“One of the first commitments we made when we joined the Communion was to a daily contemplative practice of our own choosing.

A practice can sometimes become routine, even stale and lifeless. Yet it is an important daily time of clearing space,

allowing us to focus, to prepare our hearts to be “a cup to catch the sacred rain" as poet Christin Lore Webber describes it.

“Tonight Jean Houston will lead us in a contemplative practice of finding a lake of light within us.”

We turn to look at Jean, who, seated within our circle, begins to speak:

Please begin by breathing slowly and deeply; slowly and deeply;

slowly and deeply. Continue doing so…

In the quiet of the breath, I invite you now to begin to imagine that within the center of your mind

there is a quiet, calm lake, and it is a lake of light—serene,  peaceful, placid, in the center of your consciousness.

This quiet lake of light . . .

 … and as you breathe in, the light grows. And as you breathe out, it contracts.

But now you find that you’re able to be with the light in a playful way so that as you breathe in, the light expands, it grows brighter. As you breathe out, it moves through your entire mind-brain system and illumines that mind-brain system--that whole beingness. So, inhale and the light becomes more intense, expands, becomes brighter; exhale, it is dispersed to all parts of you, all parts—atoms, molecules, cells, neurons, the structures of your brain, mind, even now the whole body, the brain that hangs down through every part of the body, receiving that light.

Inhale, the pool becomes intense, expansive. Exhale, the light particles, the photons, move out throughout your brain and body, filling your heart. Inhale, it becomes brighter, more expansive, richer, lovelier.

It is a loving light filling your heart. Exhale, these particles, these parts of loving, living light,

move through your whole body, your entire being.

 

You find yourself in a vast sea of light. You are there in the fathomless depths of that oneness which is light. And the light that is embedded in you burns deeper and brighter because you are in that field of light. You are in the field—the  quantum field—that  banishes all the negative, all the old things that you no longer need.

You are also in that quantum field where all new possibilities exist.

 

And from this moment forth, if you choose, it is never, ever going away. If you choose, you will always have access to your beingness of light. And it may even be that an emotion so sweet, so lovely, so beautiful—pure  love and compassion or just sure delight of beingness—fills you now.

 

You are also the light that moves the sun and all the stars. And, being filled with light, you can say in your heart’s mind, in your mind’s heart, “I am a being of light. I love the light. I serve the light. I am illumined, sustained, supported by the light, and I support and sustain the light.

"The light, which is also love, and I, are of the same essence.”

 

And it seems to you that within this great sea of light, which is you, which is the quantum field of all possibilities, which is the light, which is love, this essential nature dwells in you, calm, serene, centered, illumined, sustained and sustaining the universe, always there—although it may be that before this moment you never knew it was there, sitting perhaps like a Buddha in the center of your very being. Full of light and yet no one thing

and now discovering in the light the pattern of your own possibilities emerging from the light.

 

You may see or feel what is emerging of these possibilities, these new ways of being, but also placing there some intention you have for your life; some dream or desire, placing it in this field in which your dream,

your desire, your intention, is taken up in the interdependent co-arising so that your intention is made clearer.

It may grow or change as you feel and observe it in this vast sea of creative, fertile light.

 

Observe it now as it begins to take on the qualities, the very form that you intend. It is partnership in creation—

your  desire, your intention, and the cosmic response. Watch now. Feel now as it grows in clarity,

in manifestation, as it is remade, improved, deepened in the quantum field of all-becoming.

And do that now. I will be quiet for a few moments as you do that now.

……

 

But always remember that you are made of light. You are of the same essence as the quantum field of light,

wherein all thoughts, all dreams, become reality.

 On each of the days to come, practise being the light as a joyous experience that you look forward to engaging in. You’ll begin to find yourself filled with luminous joy, and you will also discover how radiant will become your intentions as they move to manifestation.

 

Following these words, Jean remains within our circle, and for a further time of quiet, we continue the meditation.

 

Now weaving through the stillness, there is a steadily growing drumbeat, joined by the high songbird-like notes of a flute.

One by one, we rise, seek a clear space somewhere in the tent. Joy is rising within and around us.

Sitting still is no longer an option! We dance.

 

(mp3 attached to email)  "Dance with Me" by Carmel Boyle

I waited in the shadow of the light

Looking down the corridor of life

Afraid to place my feet upon the floor

Yet knowing love was just beyond the door

I closed my eyes

Invited love to touch my very core (x2)

And then a vision came before me

 

And the angel said “Come”

 I lifted my eyes

The angel said “Flow”

 I just let my heart go

The angel said, “Dance with me”

My spirit seemed light and free

Lost to music from above

We danced our way to love

 

Staying with the memory of the dance

Still brings a glimpse, that sacred glance

Knowing now the door is open wide

The gift of love is growing deep inside

 I closed my eyes

Inviting love to touch my very core (x2)

And now a vision comes before me

 

And the angel said “Come”

I lift up my eyes

The angel said “Flow”

I just let my heart go

The angel said “Dance with me”

My spirit seemed light and free

Lost to music from above

We danced our way to love (repeat)

(Instrumental follows)

 

 

 

 

Gathering Space for February 23, 2021

 

Since Brigid’s Day, we feel the breath of life in the mouth of dead winter. The evening sky holds light longer,

the morning dawn comes sooner. Yet it is fully dark as we make our way just before eight o’clock

towards the Gathering Tent in the garden of Iona’s Ruined Nunnery.

Inside, the light of tall candles, placed around the outer edges of the room, softens the gloom.

At the centre of the open space the firepot burns, within a circle of large soft cushions.

 

Taking time first to greet our companions, we make our way into the circle, each choosing a cushion whose pattern

or colour or fabric draws us. Once everyone is seated, silence rises, bathing each of us in its calm, in quiet. 

At our own pace, each in our own rhythm, we begin to breathe deeply.

 

 Colleen stands to lead our ritual:: "This evening our Reflections are about longing.  Here is a 17th c. Welsh poem

about the Human desire that haunts our lives:   

 

What is longing made from?

What cloth is put into it

That it does not wear out with use?

Gold wears out, and silver wears out

Yet longing does not wear out.

The moon rises and the sun rises,

The sea rises in vast waves,

But longing never rises from the heart.

 

We take time to let the words and images of the poem echo and re-echo within us.

 Colleen continues: " Let's ask ourselves: What is the deepest longing of my soul?

"Think of the Medieval Beguines and their twofold longing: for the Beloved of the Soul and for ways to be a sign of love

to the people around them. These same desires are so beautifully echoed in our own Communion of Creative Fire.

 "A famous Beguine, Mechtild of Magdeburg, wrote The Flowing Light of the Godhead , an account of her mystical experiences.

"Mechtild’s prayer-poems written in the style of the courtly love poetry of the troubadours are expressions of longing:

Lord, you are my lover,

My longing,

My flowing stream,

My sun,

And I am your reflection.

 

"Mechtild’s writings are in the form of dialogues where the soul (herself) speaks with God and hears a response.

"In this exchange we hear both the longing and its source:

 

O Lord,

Love me intensely,

Love me often and long!

For the more often you love me, the purer I become.

The more intensely you love me, the more beautiful I become.

The longer you love me, the holier I become.

 

And God responds:

It is my nature that makes me love you often,

For I am love itself.

It is my longing that makes me love you intensely,

For I yearn to be loved from the heart.

It is my eternity that makes me love you long,

For I have no end.

"This evening, Noreen will read to us an expression of her own deep longing: "

Noreen Muldoon, CSJ, North Bay

Within our darkest night

You kindle a fire

That never dies away…

You kindle the fire…

 

“There is a deep, powerful, and attractive energy that pervades all of life, matter, space and time.," Noreen begins.

"There is also a fire that never dies and this fire comes always bearing gifts. 

“My inner work is to savour and to discern where this fire is leading and what gifts are being offered.

Teilhard's " Diaphany of the Divine" artwork by Sister Marie Celine, CSJ, London ON

"This allurement shapes me by the daily beauty which calls and beckons me onward.

"Frequently, I give abundant thanks to be in the company of other like-minded seekers who recognize

the need for support and enlightenment as well as their own inner longing.

 

“I have received much help in the form of intellectual insight, clarity, prayer, and encouragement from the various

reflections and readings.  I go with joy daily to join my companions on the holy grounds and chapel at Iona. Together we pray,

as many have done before us, for our world, for our planet’s healing, and for our own ever-unfolding sacred narrative.

"We feel the grace, or dream which fashions us. 

 

“I walk in gratitude for the gift of being a member of the Creative Fire Communion.  My prayers, reflections and ministry

have been enriched and enlightened.  I feel deeply the desire to be the cup that holds the rain, or the bowl,

which Christin Lore Weber speaks about in her beautiful poem. I desire to look at the universe with the eyes of a lover,

and to be alive with the Holy Presence at the heart of all that is.  Someday I hope to echo Rumi’s wonder-filled exclamation: 

“Is the one I love everywhere?”  I long to put my heart at the service of love. This is the call of the universe and my personal call. 

"Belonging to the Communion has supported and assisted my desires.

 

“May the Holy Fire, creating anew, find me open, present, faithful and engaged in this sacred calling as a member

of the Creative Fire Communion.  Thank you to each of you who have assisted me to feel my life with wholeness and for deepening my love and reverence for the universe’s story, the planet’s well-being, and my growth in evolutionary consciousness. 

May we always see anew and with gratitude the landscape of our life.”

 

We thank Noreen for her words that so aptly express and reveal the fire of her heart and soul.

Noreen’s openness inspires others among us to speak of the longings of our heart. After a time of listening and speaking

we sit in stillness, allowing the Love we each long for to rise within and around us.

 

Our mysterious flute player begins a melody of such joy and beauty that without a word being said we stand

and begin to spin and spiral until the Gathering Tent resembles a galaxy of whirling planets.

At last we collapse laughing on our silk cushions.

 

“Doesn’t Hafiz have a poem about dancing?” someone asks.

“Yes, Carol answers. “I know some of it by heart.”

 

O keep squeezing drops of the Sun

From your prayers and work and music

And from your companions' beautiful laughter

And from the most insignificant movements

Of your own holy body.

Now, sweet one,

Be wise.

Cast all your votes for Dancing!

ARCHIVES

Gathering Space for February 16, 2021

We approach the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery on Iona, relieved that the rain is holding off. The young moon, slim as an eyelash,

does her best to offer light to the snowdrops and crocuses. A salt-drenched wind  off the North Atlantic speeds us on our way to the

Gathering Tent. Once inside, we seek out our favourite large silk embroidered cushions and begin to form a circle around the fire pot.

 

Earlier today, we each received an email, unsigned, with this intriguing message:

Poetry Reading in the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery

Brigid is known as the Patron of poets. The ancient poets of Ireland were tasked with calling the community to integrity. Tonight in our Gathering Space, I invite you to read a poem from any poet, of this time or the past, whose words touch you and call our Communion to integrity. Write you own poem if you feel inspired, as they did, spontaneously, out of your own deep knowing. Here is mine:

 

Communion

spun like spider’s web

from inner longings.

It stretches out among us,

criss-crossing in elaborate elegance

creating a fragile place to hold our dreams…

Somewhere a Holy One might rest.

 

In the centre of our circle, where the fire pot waits patiently for its lighting, a large open basket holds sheets of vellum, inscribed with what look like poems. A sign above the basket reads: “Take one if you haven’t brought one.” 

The basket is soon empty. While Heather lights the fire pot, we each silently read what we have randomly chosen. Now the poetry readings are about to start….

 

Colette begins: “This poem is by Rainer Maria Rilke, written to a God of future times. It is mysterious, yet strangely comforting. “

The God That is Coming

You too will find your strength.

We who must live in this time

cannot imagine how strong you will become –

how strange, how surprising,

yet familiar as yesterday.

We will sense you

like a fragrance from a nearby garden

and watch you move through our days

like a shaft of sunlight in a sickroom.

We are cradled close in your hands –

and lavishly flung forth.

 

Carol speaks: ”The poem I chose is from the Terma Collective. It challenges us to choose what matters most: “

What in your life is calling to you?

When all the meetings are adjourned

and the lists laid aside

and the wild iris blooms by itself in the dark forest.

What still pulls at your soul?

 

Mary-Ellen reads next: “In this poem the Sufi Hafiz invites us into wildness:”

Leave the familiar for awhile

Let your senses and bodies stretch out

Like a welcomed season

Onto the meadows and shores and hills.

Open up to the Roof

Make a new watermark on your excitement

And love.

Like a blooming night flower,

Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness

And giving

Upon our intimate assembly.

Change rooms in your mind for a day.

All the hemispheres in existence

Lie beside an equator

In your heart.

Greet yourself

In your thousand other forms

As you mount the hidden tide and travel

Back home.

All the hemispheres in heaven

Are sitting around a fire

Chatting

While stitching themselves together

Into the Great Circle inside of

You.

 

Patty speaks of her choice: “This poem by Mary Oliver reminds us that we are part of one another and our lives are interwoven with all that lives.“

Poem of the One World

This morning

the beautiful white heron

was floating along above the water

and then into the sky of this

the one world

we all belong to

where everything

sooner or later

is a part of everything else

which thought made me feel

for a little while

quite beautiful myself.

 

Yvette speaks: “This poem by Denise Levertov speaks to me about trusting what we hear in the dark

so that we might share it with others in the light.”

Writing in the Dark

 

It’s not difficult.

Anyway, it’s necessary.

Wait till morning, and you’ll forget.

And who knows if morning will come.

Fumble for the light, and you’ll be

stark awake, but the vision

will be fading, slipping

out of reach.

You must have paper at hand,

a felt-tip-pen—ballpoints don’t always flow,

pencil points tend to break. There’s nothing

shameful in that much prudence: those are your tools.

Never mind about crossing your t’s, dotting your i’s—

but take care not to cover

one word with the next. Practice will reveal

how one hand instinctively comes to the aid of the other

to keep each line

clear of the next.

 

Keep writing in the dark:

a record of the night, or

words that pulled you from the depths of unknowing,

words that flew through your mind, strange birds

crying their urgency with human voices.

or opened

as flowers of a tree that blooms

only once in a lifetime:

words that may have the power

to make the sun rise again.

 

Ellyn holds up her page to us: This poem by John O’Donohue is called “For a New Beginning”.

It speaks to me of the newness that we in the Communion seek: 

In out-of-the-way places of the heart,

Where your thoughts never think to wander,

This beginning has been quietly forming,

Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

 

For a long time it has watched your desire,

Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,

Noticing how you willed yourself on,

Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

 

It watched you play with the seduction of safety

And the gray promises that sameness whispered,

Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,

Wondered would you always live like this.

 

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,

And out you stepped onto new ground,

Your eyes young again with energy and dream,

A path of plenitude opening before you.

 

Though your destination is not yet clear

You can trust the promise of this opening;

Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning

That is at one with your life’s desire.

 

Awaken your spirit to adventure;

Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;

Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,

For your soul senses the world that awaits you. 

 

We sense that we are filled to the brim with poetic thoughts. We will need to spend time with them on our own in our Sacred Hour.

For now, we need to stand, to move, to dance.  Colleen has her ipad and finds us a song from Ireland: “I Hope You Dance”.

Soon our poetry reading has become a celebration of music and movement. Here are the lyrics:

 

I Hope You Dance

(Mark D. Sanders/Tia Sillers)

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder.

You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger

May you never take one single breath for granted

God forbid love ever leave you empty handed.

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean

Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens

Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

 

I hope you dance I hope you dance

 

 ARCHIVES

Gathering Space for February 9, 2021

A sudden brisk wind off the North Atlantic sends the clouds scurrying. The sky is a black velvet cloak adorned with shimmering stars, and the steady glow of planets. These light our way towards the opening flap of our Gathering Tent.

Inside, our companions have already taken their places on the large colourfully patterned cushions. No one seems to notice us as we choose the last four, joining the circle. An explosion of laughter erupts. Seeking its source we follow the gaze of our friends, who are looking towards someone in the circle. It is Jean Houston.

Ahh, so that is the source of the laughter. Jean must have just told one of her favourite jokes. Jean looks up to greet us, responding to the question she sees on our faces. “The one about ET in Australia. You’ve heard it before.”

As the laughter subsides, Anne Kathleen walks to the centre of our circle to light the fire pot: “As you see, and have heard, we are blessed to have Jean Houston with us this evening. As you know, Jean is the one who imagined the Communion, inviting me to begin it.

"On February 11th, eight years ago, the responses arrived to the invitation I sent on Brigid’s Feast Day in 2013. Some of you here tonight were among the “first responders”: Jean herself was the very first, followed by Suzanne, Ellyn, Yvette, Mary-Ellen, Colette, Kate, Colleen, Adriana and Mary Teske. Others have come in the years since, some staying with us, as many here tonight have done.

“Last year, on Brigid’s Feast Day, while I was attending Jean’s Salon at EarthRise, at the Institute for Noetic Sciences in Petaluma California, Jean offered me her wisdom, her guidance, regarding our Communion. Jean suggested I write to you about our conversation. Instead, I've  asked Jean to come here to Iona to speak with  you tonight in person.

“Jean, will you speak to us now?”

Jean: You, we, are here tonight in response to a call. You may not at first have fully understood what you were saying, “yes” to when you responded, but you said it and the universe heard you.

I do not need to tell you how the planet has darkened in these eight years. We have lived through the good times. The great times are now upon us. I do not say this to burden you, to bring sadness or despair. For this is not a time for either. This is our time, and we have and shall be given all we need to live it magnificently.

I used to ask those who came to my Mystery School, “Why are you alive at this time in history? Did you put up your hand to go the bathroom when the 21st century was asking for volunteers?” Yet never doubt that you will be able to meet these challenges. And know too that you will, at times, be surprised by joy as we live into this new mystery.

Predictions are dire: unless the climate crisis on our planet is addressed and abated, there may be only some 150 million humans still alive by the end of this century.

Now I see you all looking at me like basset hounds so I want to offer you a poem of great hope written by Christopher Fry who lived into the early years of the twenty-first century:    

        A SLEEP OF PRISONERS

The human heart can go the lengths of God… 
Dark and cold we may be, but this
Is no winter now. The frozen misery
Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move;
The thunder is the thunder of the floes,
The thaw, the flood, the upstart Spring.

Thank God our time is now when wrong
Comes up to face us everywhere,
Never to leave us till we take
The longest stride of soul men ever took.

Affairs are now soul size.
The enterprise is exploration into God.
Where are you making for? It takes
So many thousand years to wake…
But will you wake, for pity’s sake?

 

The enterprise is exploration into God. This, dear friends, members of the Communion of Creative Fire, is your entrance cue. You have been engaged in this exploration, some among you for several years, and have listened and shared with one another what you have discovered.

 

What I ask of you now is that you make a deeper commitment to this work, what I now call Spiritual Artistry, not just for yourselves, not just for the members of the Communion, not just for those whom you love, but for the entire planet. Do not doubt that your strengthening spirit, your fiery intention, will have, does have, powerful effects on the entire ecosystem. Remember that we do not simply live in the Universe. The Universe lives in us.

 

I wrote the first Reflection for the Communion in 2013. I called it, “Communing with the Creative Fire of the Universe”.

Begin this new cycle of seven years in hope, with confidence. Live your commitment with a creative fire that moves you from walking to dancing, from speaking to singing, from smiling to laughing. Let the joy of what you have created among you rise in you to illumine your days with its growing radiance. I shall expect to look out of my window on the hillside in Ashland to see your light lifting from the horizon.

 

Feel the wonder and enchantment of what you are creating together in four countries on three continents! You are what is needed now. You have a place among the myriad enterprises arising around the planet. You are part of what I have seen in my travels, the Rising of Feminine Power, the crucial need for women’s gifts and perceptions if there is to be hope for the planet.

 

The Communion will last. I am certain of this. Rejoice that you have been called, that you have answered, and let your creative fire ignite the planet.

 

 Dante wrote of “L’amor che muove il sole e l’altre stele” (“The Love that moves the sun and all the other stars.”)

 

I offer you a blessing written by the poet Rilke, speaking on behalf of Love:

You, sent out beyond your recall,

Go to the limits of your longing.

Embody Me.

Flare up like flame

And make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror

Just keep going. No feeling is final.

Don’t let yourself lose Me.

Nearby is the country they call life.

You will know it by its seriousness.

Give Me your hand.

 

In the stillness that follows upon Jean’s words, the music of a flute rises. Slow, almost uncertain notes soon become sure, as a melody entices us to dance. Dancing seems the only way to respond to the gift of Jean’s words, her contagious courage and joy.

 

ARCHIVES

Gathering Space for January 26, 2021

It is late January, almost the eve of Brigid’s Day, as we cross the frozen grass, passing beyond the snow-covered ruins of the nunnery on Iona. Though we look with longing at our Gathering Tent, already imagining the warmth inside, we have a ritual to perform first.

The evening is cold but comfortably above freezing at 7 degrees Celsius, 44 degrees Fahrenheit. Passing clouds allow Mother Moon, just two days before her fullness, to play hide and seek with us.

Each of us has brought a brightly-coloured shawl, or scarf or ribbon or cloth. Each of us is seeking just the right place to leave our treasure so that the dew of Brigid’s dawn may bless it. Some dry rosebushes are a possibility if we take care to avoid the thorns. There are places along the low ruined walls for some of our cloths. Just beyond the ruins, a few small trees hold out their arms invitingly.

Once all of our cloths have been carefully placed, we draw our coats, jackets, cloaks or wool shawls more tightly around our shoulders, aware that soon, on the Feast of Imbolc, Brigid will "breathe life into the mouth of dead winter".

Once inside our Gathering Tent, its inner walls hung with medieval tapestries that proclaim spring in flowers, birds, trees in full blossom, all woven in exuberant coloured threads. We begin to feel the warmth spreading from a hundred lighted candles, and something of spring awakens in our winter hearts.

 

Tonight we have come ready to celebrate a ritual to mark the beginning of a new year for our Communion of Creative Fire. Those who have brought the elements of ritual have placed bowls of bread, honey and milk on white cloths that cover long tables on the left side of the tent.

We begin gathering in the large circle, each of us choosing one of the silk cushions placed around the fire pot. On each cushion we see pages with brightly coloured images. 

One we recognize as our re-commitment form from recent years, the one with the image of women walking in a forest with birds in flight. But who has brought these other radiant images? Even as we wonder, we notice Corinne moving to light the fire pot, and Yvette coming to stand beside her. 

Corinne holds an enlarged version of the second image:

Corinne speaks: “ As I was thinking of our communion, and of the commitment each of us will renew on Brigid’s Day, I chose this picture. The circle holds each of us: individuals, and yet one within the encircling light. We are like the jewels at each crossing of Indra's net: when one of us sings, the whole net vibrates. Our Communion holds the secret to colouring our life: a pinch of creativity, lots of laughter, a smiling dance with beautiful Souls. “  We gaze in wonder and joy at the image Corinne has created for us. 

Yvette speaks:” I too have an image that speaks of our Communion and it led me to rewrite the words of our Commitment in a fresh way that echoes my experience and desires.”

 Now we turn our attention to the page with Yvette's image and words:

In this image I see a many-colored cloak spreading through our Communion in the same way that Brigid spread a cloak across her land.  Belonging to the Communion of Creative Fire broadens and deepens my spiritual horizons. The weekly reflections and online sharing support my desire to be in touch with my heart’s longings. My sisters in this Communion encourage and support a creative, alive, feminine spirituality needed for our times. I know evermore the treasure of walking the path of our Communion of Creative Fire.

To continue this journey with other women, I commit to:

*Live Openness to Sacred Mystery through a daily rhythm of contemplative practice including one hour each week devoted to reflection and prayer based on the kreativefire website Reflections and Gathering Space postings.

*Share insights and understanding through group emails and on our private facebook page that favor not only my self-articulation of spiritual meaning, but also affirm and encourage the inspirations, desires, and lived experiences of group members.

*Take Creative Fire into my daily life, ministry, and relationships by mirroring the joy, courage, and compassion

I receive through the Communion.

 

Signed __________________________________ Date _____________________

 

We take time to enter the beauty of this image Yvette has brought to us and to reflect on the wording of the commitment.

If this resonates with us, we have a choice to sign this form or the earlier one with the image of the women walking in the forest.

We make our choice, silently reading and signing our commitment, then placing our form in the basket beside the fire pot.

After Yvette and Corinne have signed their commitments and placed them in the basket, they move to the far right side of the tent to prepare for their role in a Ritual. Each holds one end of a braided loop, long enough to serve as a loose belt.

Corinne speaks: “This is called the Crios of Brigid. This evening it will be used in our ritual of Imbolc. Yvette and I will hold the braided crios high enough for each of you in turn to walk through it.

"As you have completed your own recommitment, move towards us in a line and prepare to enter the crios.

"Each of you will enter the crios three times.

"The first entry is a time to choose to let go of something in our life that no longer serves us and our commitment to the communion. 

"A second time we walk through the crios thinking of what we are grateful for.

“On the third and final entry, we think of what we must now do in our lives: what call do we hear?

“When all but we two holding the Crios have passed through, two more women will hold it for Yvette and I to make our three crossings.

“Suzanne and Mary Teske will begin the threefold crossing, as they have another role in the ritual.  

"As each woman completes her third crossing, she is invited to move towards the table at the back where bowls of milk,

honey and bread havebeen placed. There is a soft cushion where she is invited to kneel,

then raise her hands to receive the water being poured over them by Suzanne. Mary will offer her a towel.

"Then the woman will rise, walk to the table where she chooses a piece of bread from the bowl,

dips it into a second bowl of honey and into a bowl of milk. Then she consumes it, as a way of communing

with her companions on this sacred night when our commitments to the Communion have been received.”

 

 As Yvette and Corinne stand in place, holding the crios, the ritual begins. Softly, as each woman makes her threefold crossing,

the others sing Starhawk’s song:

We will never, never lose our way

to the well of her memory

and the power of her living flame

it will rise, it will rise again.

 

After we have all completed the ritual, there is a flurry of preparations for the celebratory feast that follows.

 

ARCHIVES

Gathering Space January 19, 2021

The Communion Birthed and Growing

 

The moon above the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery on Iona is in her first quarter, swelling towards her fullness nine days from now. Her light reaches us from between the low clouds as we walk towards our Gathering Tent. The air is above freezing at 37 degrees Fahrenheit, 3 degrees Celsius.

We walk quickly, eager to see our companions, to exchange news and stories of the different ways each has found to live with the daily anxiety of the second wave of COVID. Our companions from the US have had a heart - wrenching experience of violence in their capitol in the days leading up to the inauguration of their new president and vice-president. Both those courageous and grounded humans were helping out at a food kitchen in recent days, a silent testimony to their determination to act out of love, not fear.

Ellyn steps forward to light the fire pot, and speak to us.

“We are just two weeks away from Brigid’s Feast Day, February 1st, the time when we are invited to renew, or to make for the first time, our commitment to the Communion of Creative Fire. Anne Kathleen wished to tell us once more the story of our Communion's beginnings and growth and to offer us some guidelines and suggestions for our preparation for the Commitment. There will be a ZOOM call on Monday February 1st so that those of who are ZOOMBIES may celebrate a Ritual of Commitment or Re-Commitment together.

"As her whole Province of Ontario is now under strict lockdown, Anne Kathleen could not join us here on Iona tonight. Instead she sent us a recorded message. It arrived as an MP3 on our computers or i-phones, as an attachment to our weekly Communion email.

“I invite us all to get comfortable on our cushions and I’ll play the recording from my I-pad.”

Recording: “The Communion Birthed and Growing”

 

After the recording there is a great deal of discussion and chatter until Elspeth arrives with Bridie bringing fresh scones, coffee and tea. After that, Ellyn’s I-pad bursts forth with the soundtrack from the WIZARD of OZ. Soon we are laughing and dancing to the “Yellow Brick Road”.

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Gathering Space for January 12, 2021

It is the dark of the moon on this January night. The stars have their time of glory in the skies above Iona as we walk towards our Gathering Tent in the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery.

The air is just a few degrees above freezing so we are eager to be inside the shelter.

Besides, Elspeth has promised to return with another story….

 

Some of our companions must have come early. The interior of the tent is alive with candle light. We each choose one of our favourites from among the forty large silk-covered cushions arranged in a circle around the fire pot. Elspeth is already seated, engaged in what sounds like a lively conversation with the women sitting near her.

"But the Cailleach is honoured among the Celts for her wisdom and her no-nonsense approach to life," Elspeth is saying, responding to an earlier statement.

"Wise maybe, but old and ugly! Who would want to live so long?" The speaker is one of our younger members, and she has supporters among much older women.

"I agree with you," says another. "If I could choose, I would prefer youth and beauty to all the wisdom in the world."

At this Elspeth laughs merrily. "Of course you would. Perhaps the wisest cailleach would prefer that as well, but life does not offer us such clear choices. We shall all grow old but growing wise is not assured… it takes determination, dedication and sometimes a long journey.

"If everyone is comfortably seated, shall we light the fire pot and begin? I have a story for you tonight about a woman younger than most of you who longed to become wise."

Elspeth begins her story and stillness holds us all. We are enchanted.

There was once a woman who was successful in all things. She had a kind partner, a loving family, and a craft for which she was justly famous. But still she was not happy.

“I want to know the Truth,” she said to her partner.

“Then you should seek her,” he replied.

So the woman put her house and all her worldly goods in her partner’s name (she being adamant on that point) and went out on the road, a beggar after Truth.

She searched up the hills and down in the valleys for Truth. She went into small villages and large towns; into the forests and along the coasts of the great wide sea; into dark, grim wastes and lush meadows woven with flowers. She looked for days and for weeks and for months.

And then one day, atop a high mountain, in a small cave, she found her.

Truth was a wizened old woman with but a single tooth left in her head. Her hair was entangled in a crown of branches. The skin on her face was the brown of old parchment and as dry, stretched over prominent bones. But when she signaled to the younger woman with a hand crabbed with age, her voice was low and lyrical and pure and it was then that the young woman knew she had found Truth.

She stayed a year and a day with the older woman and she learned all that Truth had to teach. And when the year and the day was up, the younger woman stood at the mouth of the cave ready to leave for home.

“My Lady Truth,” she said, “you have taught me so much and I would do something for you before I leave. Is there anything you wish?”

Truth put her head to one side and considered. Then she raised an ancient finger. “When you speak of me,” she said, “tell them I am young and beautiful.”

 

When the story ends, we sit in silence, each one of us pondering its meaning for our lives.

After a time, Elspeth asks, "Would someone like to comment on this story?"

The young woman who had argued for the value of beauty and youth over wisdom speaks:

"As I thought about this story, it came to me that if the woman who is Truth had spent her days with proper skin creams and hair moisturizers, with exercise to enhance her body and every treatment to preserve her youth, she would still one day inevitably grow old, and no one would have travelled for weeks and months to seek her. Yet, because she grew into Truth and Wisdom, she had a gift to offer to others." 

Another woman speaks: "I notice that even though she had become Truth and was sought out by others for her wisdom, the old woman still longed to be young and beautiful. So I guess it's not the longing which is an obstacle to wisdom, but rather where we put our energy."

Elspeth speaks: "Let the story settle in your hearts over the next few days. See if it has other insights and gifts for you. Now, let’s celebrate the young new year with cranberry punch and some of my own Christmas baking.”

 

 ARCHIVES

Gathering Space for Epiphany, January 5, 2021

This January night on Iona in the North Atlantic is crisply cold, barely above freezing. The moon in her last quarter has parted the clouds as she would pull aside curtains, offering us her light as we come to the Garden of the Ruined Nunnery. Tonight we will celebrate Epiphany together, so some of us are carrying trays of Christmas baking, thermoses of hot cranberry punch, and small wrapped gifts that are meant to be symbols of light. The tent flap is held wide, making room for us and our many bundles to enter.

Once inside, we find places for the food, beverages and gifts on a long covered table on the far side of the tent. When we come to take our places in the circle, we see that the planning committee has already placed beautifully illustrated booklets on each cushion.  We gaze at the artwork that adorns the cover page, and at the title below:

 

By Way of the Heart

We look around our gathered circle of beloved friends, emitting tiny pops of surprise as one by one we notice a woman seated among us whom we have not met. Mary Ellen stands to introduce our guest: "Tonight we are blessed with the presence of someone who has come to Iona, to our Gathering Tent, for the first time. Yet this woman is not a stranger to us, for her poetry has been inspiring our hearts and nourishing our souls for years. Our guest, who is a poet, artist, and spiritual writer, has been offering a yearly Retreat for Women's Christmas. Tonight she brings us selections from her 2019 Collection. Let us welcome our guest: Jan Richardson."

 Jan begins to speak: "There is a custom, rooted in Ireland, of celebrating Epiphany, January 6, which brings the Christmas season to a close, as Women’s Christmas. Called Nollaig na mBan in Irish, Women’s Christmas originated as a day when the women, who often carried the domestic responsibilities all year, took Epiphany as an occasion to celebrate together at the end of the holidays, leaving hearth and home to the men for a few hours. Celebrated particularly in County Cork and County Kerry, the tradition is enjoying a revival... As the Christmas season ends, this is an occasion both to celebrate with friends and also to spend time in reflection before diving into the responsibilities of this new year.

"I am happy to be here with you women, friends drawn together in Communion around the Creative Fire of your lives, to offer you this time to rest, to reflect, and to contemplate where you are in your unfolding path. Mindful of those who traveled to welcome the Christ child and who returned home by another way, we will turn our attention toward questions about our own journey.

"To begin our time together, I offer you a Blessing poem which I call Constellation:   

Constellation

A Blessing for Women’s Christmas

 

Consider that the heart

holds its own constellation.

Consider that it has

a secret chamber

radiant with unspent light.

 

Consider this when you cannot find

that one star, that dream

that compels you to the road.

When every last thing seems

to have disappeared into dark,

consider that you cannot always know

how you bear this brightness

but that it holds you

and is not wasted

or lost.

 

See how we share this sky,

how it stretches above us

beyond every border,

how every day

turns each of us

in steady revolution

through morning, night,

morning again.

 

Or think of it like this:

that every heart is its own voyage,

sending its vessels out,

drawing them back again,

never by the same way they went

but still somehow making for

home, that place

that shimmers now in welcome

with all the gathered light

you had thought

you could not see.

 

There is a sacred silence as we ponder Jan's words. Then Jan invites  us to read the four stanzas aloud, as a choir , with first the left side of  our circle reading a verse, then the right, as was the way with the ancient nuns who once lived here on Iona.

Following this reading in choir, Jan invites:

 

"Consider what helps you put the pieces of your life together: the experiences you carry, the scraps of your story, the fragments that seem jagged and painful as well as those that you think of as beautiful. What response—in words, in images, in prayer, in movement, in stillness, in conversation, in solitude—helps you recognize and honor the pieces and put them together in a new way, making your path as you go?

 

"I bring you tonight a story of a woman who is well known to you through her writings, a woman who had the courage to tell us what she learned of Divine Love on her own life-path.

"On a day more than six hundred years ago, in the English town of Norwich, a woman walked into a cell attached to the parish church. She intended to remain there for the rest of her life. Her original name is unknown, and the cell where she would live as an anchoress—a woman devoted to a life of contemplation and solitude—no longer remains. It is likely that she took her name from the church in whose cell she lived: the Church of St. Julian.

 

"Nearly everything we know about Julian of Norwich comes from a manuscript she composed in her cell. In it she tells of how, at the age of thirty and a half, she became desperately ill. Just when she seemed at the point of death, her pain suddenly departed. As Julian continued to pray, she received a series of sixteen visions, which she called showings. These visions primarily are of Christ on the cross, who reveals the face of joy and love to her.

 

"Julian recorded her visions in a short text. Nearly two decades later, she wrote a longer text that incorporates the insights she gained through years of reflecting on and praying with the visions. Together Julian’s texts became the book known as Showings, or Revelations of Divine Love.

 

"In the final chapter of Showings, as she comes to the end of the remarkable work in which she reveals to us a God of endless mystery who knows and loves us in all our human particularity, Julian writes,

And from the time that it was revealed, I desired to know in what was our Lord’s meaning. And fifteen years after and more, I was answered in spiritual understanding, and it was said: What, do you wish to know your Lord’s meaning in this thing? Know it well, love was his meaning.

Who reveals it to you? Love. What did he reveal to you? Love. Why does he reveal it to you? For love.

Remain in this, and you will know more of the same. But you will never know different, without end.

 Once more Jan invites us into silence to receive these words. Then she asks this:

As you stretch yourself into loving others, what becomes revealed to you—of them, of yourself, of God?

 

How has love challenged or changed what you know?

 

How are you opening yourself to its presence in your life?

 

After we have time to consider these questions, Jan says,

"I have one more poem to offer you before we begin our celebratory feast together:

Beloved Is Where We Begin

If you would enter

into the wilderness,

do not begin

without a blessing.

Do not leave

without hearing

who you are:

Beloved,

named by the one

who has traveled this path

before you.

Do not go

without letting it echo

in your ears,

and if you find

it is hard

to let it into your heart,

do not despair.

That is what

this journey is for.

I cannot promise

this blessing will free you

from danger, from fear,

from hunger or thirst,

from the scorching of sun

or the fall of the night.

But I can tell you

that on this path

there will be help.

I can tell you

that on this way

there will be rest.

I can tell you

that you will know

the strange graces

that come to our aid

only on a road

such as this,

that fly to meet us

bearing comfort

and strength,

that come alongside us

for no other cause

than to lean themselves

toward our ear

and with their

curious insistence

whisper our name:

Beloved.

Beloved.

Beloved.

 

 The singing bowl tells us our reflection time is over, and yet for some minutes all is stillness as we breathe in what we have heard, felt, seen and understood.

Now it is time to celebrate with food and drink and gifts. We express our deep gratitude to Jan whose life is offered to others as a pathway to their own wisdom, as they recognize and learn to follow their own star.

Happy Epiphany!


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