As spring is here I’m thinking about the allotment I’ll be working on this summer, and that reminded me of my indoor plants and of course the thought train then got all metaphorical…
ID: Roses, back-lit in a window, next to a barely recovering mint plant.
People tell me that indoor roses are fussy and mint is impossible to kill… But roses were the first plant I managed to keep alive for more than a season, and this is the first potted mint plant that has recovered from meeting me… And trust me, I’ve tried many times!
Perhaps those of us that are “fussy”, “difficult”, “sensitive”, or “too much” are simply in the wrong environment… And the apparently hardy ones are mostly just getting more of what *they* need? I’ve heard it before, but it bears repeating…
Plants are tenacious, and so are we. But we all need different things. Look for your magic, your relationship with the world, your rhythm and home, in the places that make sense to you. Don’t treat yourself like mint if you’re a rose, or rose if you’re a mint.
But remember, either way, to breathe, rest, bathe in the growing sunlight, and drink your water!
I’m learning to do better with mint, at least. And I’ll be repotting both (separately!) soon.
(Oh, and there’s a meditation up for my Patreons for the Equinox – Spring or Autumn – use whenever you need a moment of calm before a change.)
It’s here!!! Midsummer 2019 has completed a piece of devotion for me…
Pagan Portals: Gods and Goddesses of Wales is out!!!
I’m really excited to announce the manifestation of my newest book, a practical introduction of Welsh deities and their stories, through their stories. It’s designed as a primer to get started on your journey with beings such as Rhiannon, Blodeuwedd, Taliesin, Gwydion, and more. There’s even a pronounciation guide at the back (thanks Sarah!)
Here’s the official blurb:
An introduction to Welsh deities through traditional myths and practical exercises. Written by a practising witch, living in the heart of Wales and working with the deities woven into the land, this book contains the major stories and backgrounds for the Gods and Goddesses of the heartland of the Druids. Within its pages you will find information on the major deities and where their stories can be found, alongside suggestions on how to connect with them and weave relationships with them into a modern pagan practice.
You can order this through your favourite bookstore, they’ll find it under author “Halo Quin” (publisher: Moon Books) or through amazon.
Looks like I’m living the dream… a published author 😀 Thanks to everyone who supports me, who encourages, proofreads, inspires, shares, buys, reviews and generally cheers me on. Couldn’t do it without you (In fact, without you all, there’d be no point.) This last year has been a wild ride and in amongst it all the gods of this land have been woven…I’m glad to do my part in sharing their stories. What is remembered, lives.
Happy Thoughts,
Halo Quin x
Overlooking a sunny Ceredigion Bay in wild, West, Wales.
My knees are burning. My back is cramping. Tears stream down my cheeks in frustration. All I want to do is dance again. To move. To feel alive.
Wall of blank.
Exhaustion rises up, fog descends.
My mantra: I am lucky. This is temporary. This too shall pass.
I don’t believe it.
My body tells me that all there is is Now. Now is all. It might be correct.
I curl up on the floor. Empty.
I catch my breath. Numb.
Noticing, with strange detachment, that the world has become distant. That I’ve been a quiet automaton for hours, days… perhaps longer.
I breathe myself back into my body. Back into my feet. Back into the burning, aching flesh.
At least I feel alive.
I notice. Even restrained, even with the limits of movement, even with the fog and frustration, Here and Now, if I can keep my self in my belly, in my feet, in my hands, in my flesh… I can breathe and expand. The deeper into the flesh I go, the deeper into the magic. The deeper into the world I sink, the more I can expand, the more I am aware of. Oh it hurts, yes, but with each breath is life. With each prickly of goosebumps the wild spirits brush my skin with fingertips, tentacles, lips dripping in nectar.
The more present I am, the more present I am with Them. The gods stand behind me, the ancestors whisper in my ear, the spirits draw near. I can feel my edges, raise my shields, let down my hair, call out the cry of a Witch in the night.
The deeper into my body I can stay, when all my instincts are to flee, to float into painless disconnection, the closer the magic is.
Her and Now. Here and Now at the crossroads of every moment. Here and Now is where the web of Wyrd is woven, where the Power lies.
I am lucky, this too shall pass, this too shall return to the Fertile Darkness from whence it came, I am lucky, there are lessons here, if I can just stop running, just be Here and Now.
Before I pontificate, let me just say: Druid Camp itself was marvellous! A community of like-minded people, on many different paths, all made welcome. A sharing of magic, of song and dance and learning, delicious food, laughter and sunshine. Each morning we’d gather in Morning Meeting to hear about the offerings of the day. Each afternoon we’d gather for a talk by a prominent (usually academic) member of the community. And each evening we’d meet for ritual and then music in the cafe tent. Throughout the day volunteers would teach their skills or support the practical running of the event. Â Community, learning, sharing, celebrating and ritual. Magic in all it’s forms. I fully recommend it to even the just-curious as a gentle, relaxed event with plenty of space to choose what you will engage with, no pressure to know anything beforehand, and a very welcoming place which gives you the chance to meet many people on different paths.
On that note…
I’m not a Druid, not really. I’m not a member of OBOD or ADF or BDO or any other religious group with a name made of alphabet soup. I don’t introduce myself at pagan gatherings as a druid. It’s not a word or an image that resonates with me (and there is probably a good reason for that, which I’ll tell you about one day). And yet I feel very at home at the Rainbow Spirit Druid Camp.
I’ve done a fair amount of studying druidry (or at least neo-druidry, the modern pagan practice inspired by tales of ancient druids), and what I’ve found most often in recent years is that the ethics and attitudes align strongly with my own, the stories often come from the land I call home and I do love a good public ritual.
I still don’t feel like a Druid – though my path is very similar – and that’s ok.
I took an active part in the opening and closing rituals. I volunteered my time and skills to the community by working in the kid’s area. I danced to Morrigan’s Path and Hawkwind’s Nick Turner’s band Space Ritual. I was made welcome.
Part of me wonders if all that makes me a Druid in denial. But we never fit into neat little boxes, do we? I’m coming to accept that my Faery path weaves through several different groves, round the cauldron and into the wildwood. I can stand with the oaks, toast the gods, gather herbs and howl at the moon.
I often catch myself thinking that I’d like a tidy label for what I do, so I knew what I was meant to be doing, and then I remember, I know what I’m meant to be doing. I’m meant to follow the magic of my heart. The guidance of the spirits and the gods and of my deepest truest self. That’s what we’re all meant to do. For some that means finding an official path early on, for me it means that I can find myself at home in many temples. It’s an understanding that I may not be a Druid, but I’m certainly Pagan.
I’ve written before about how much the Tribal Belly dancing means to me… and it continues to be a source of strength and joy.
At the Winter Solstice we danced for the Cellan Beer Festival, and then last weekend was a Hafla (a belly dance party) in Cardigan run by local dancers. It was so nice to see the other groups dancing and experience the atmosphere of a supportive dance party. One lady did her very first solo, to very summery music, with the happiest expression!
One of the things that has come home to me about dancing ATS(r) with Tribal Unity is how much of a group activity it is. We are all working together, all supporting each other. It is not a solo performance, we thrive when we dance in tune with each other. I’ve never really felt at home in all female groups, but there is something about this dance (and the people in our little family) that breaks down the competitiveness that I’ve seen elsewhere and encourages mutual support. We all look out for each other and are thinking of each other when we dance.
The Hafla was a couple of firsts for me, as well as for the group. It was the first time we’d performed to live drums and the first time I’d led in public. It was the first fast duet I’d done (and it was VERY fast) and our first hafla. Watching over the videos I can see how much we’ve improved since last summer, how much more in tune with each other we are, and how much we all enjoy it! You can also very definitely see how happy I am dancing.
I’d like to share something I’m very excited about right now and the story of how I’ve found myself shimmying round my day-job-shop when customers aren’t looking!
I’ve always known that I wanted to dance, but could never find the right style.
As a child I tried tap dancing, in my teens I attempted a contemporary dance class – which I mostly remember as running from wall to wall, over and over, never quite got where that was going – throughout my life I’ve read Gabrielle Roth’s books over and over. I tried salsa, which I couldn’t get my feet round… In fact, the only thing that worked for me was whilst at uni when I would go out, step onto the dance floor as soon as the doors opened and only leave to down a pint of water before returning to the dance for as long as the music played.
Until now. Last spring I had five weeks of tribal belly dance classes in the Black Sheep style. The teacher, Lyza, became a friend of mine through connecting afterwards to share dancing. At that point I suspected it would be another phase. A subject I would be excited about for a month or two and then would fade into the background. A few core things have stuck with me long-term but many many other passions come and go. I was secretly certain this might be one of those…
But that excitement didn’t go away. I researched the histories of belly dance. I practised what little I’d learnt under my own steam. I kept hoping to return…
And then Wendy launched an ATS(r) class in March and I couldn’t go! It clashed with the teaching course I was on and the seminars I ran. I looked at it every week, waiting for the course to finish so I could join in. In June, finally, I walked through that door and into a new tribe, Tribal Unity Wales.
I dash to class each Tuesday with joy in my heart. No other hobby has ever had me this excited. Just two months of dancing with Tribal Unity and I managed a fortnight camping and trekking round Amsterdam, bookended by two 16 hour coach journeys, without back pain. (It was our honeymoon, and yes, it was fab!)
And it has so many layers! There is crafting and aesthetics for costuming, researching history, learning new steps, the challenge of getting to grips with them, constant opportunities for improvement, performance, the endorphins of exercise, music, self-expression, the flow of energy, stories, community and friendship, shows to watch, events to explore, cultures to investigate… and there are many different styles to learn about (and perhaps learn one day).
With so much to play with it is no wonder I’ve found myself thinking about it almost constantly!
This Friday we performed at Lampeter’s World Dance festival. I made so many mistakes, almost fell over with soft shoes on a slippery floor, missed cues, got confused… and yet could not stop grinning. I loved it. Dancing with these lovely ladies, sharing something that has brought me so much delight and returned my strength, and challenging myself to improve all combined to fill me with delight. Tribal style belly dance has utterly enchanted me and I feel like I’ve come home.
Friday’s performance, my first time dancing in public:
The moral of this story? Keep looking, keep trying, keep putting that desire out there even when you don’t know exactly what it is you want. Eventually the Universe will bring you to precisely where you need to be. And even if you make mistakes and feel like it is all going wrong, it is still beautiful and the world doesn’t end! It is preparing you for what is to come next…
Its a strange thing to find myself actually working from home. Taking my materials outside I craft in the sunshine and it is work. I am the owner of a business, fledgling as it is, a ‘Business-Woman’. This title I once felt I couldn’t claim for myself, I thought I was uncomfortable with the concept but I’ve realised this past month that the concept did not scare me, rather I felt like I wasn’t doing enough to accept the label for my own. As a registered, self-employed artist now I find the label fits comfortably and I’m excited to play with this new hat on!
Especially when it means I can justify sitting in the sunshine listening to the bees love the flowers!
Why yes Mr. Bee, we can have a meeting now!
Strange how much it takes for us to feel justified doing the things we love…
The Tempest has snuck into every corner of my life… even my beading reflects a sea-theme.
A month ago I posted about my longing for room to paint… since then I have cleared a corner in my living room where I can prop a large canvas and give my wings space to stretch and it worked! I made space and the expanses of colour I’ve been dreaming of became possible!
A work in progress filling the space…
Suddenly it felt easier to breathe into my art-making, to relax into it without a sense of constricting and confining what I make. Working on a small scale became easier too. I created the final three cards for the Faery oracle deck I’ve been working on directly onto the cards as I travelled.
Tiny pictures completing the set...
And then, this Full Moon, I had an unexpected phonecall.
An offer of a space in a shared studio, in the centre of the town I work in!
A collective of artists, a light, airy space, a new project with room to grow…
How could I say no to the perfect opportunity?!
I am so excited to see where this leads next…
As I learn again and again; when I say yes to what I truly want, it comes to me.
From now on, the days get longer, even while the world gets colder.
This has been a busy season, and yet… I have been saying ‘No’. I have been slowing down with the season. I have been seeking the stillness. Returning to roots; food and fire, hearth and home.
Turning inwards and outwards at the same time. Learning about the Runes, seeking my ancestors, discovering how I have grown.
I spent last weekend with some of my living family, last night with my friends. Between the two, however, it was time to Feast with the Dead.
Prompted by Ms. Dirty’s Midwinter Madness (Magic, I mean Magic!) challenge to feed your ancestors something that they’d actually recognise I finally did a bit more concrete digging around who my ancestors were… found out more about where they were from than what they were like: Poland, Normandy-via-Essex-via-Kansas/Mass., South Wales, London… a thread of Germany in there. Mostly Northern Europe really.
In looking for traditions, well, I didn’t find very much that I was certain of. I didn’t dig as deeply as I’d have liked to either mind. Many of them were Christian and, though I’m not quite sure which flavour, I figured a Nativity scene would probably be appreciated.
Candles and cooking seemed like the best way to go.
I acquired a piece of red cloth to use as a tablecloth and to, most likely, embroider as an ongoing ancestor-connection project later/over the years.
I found the recipe for rock-cakes my Great-Nana used to make.
I researched Polish foods and created a recipe for stew which fitted.
I bought milk to make mac’n’cheese.
I cleaned house and lit a fire in the hearth.
Lighting a candle for Hella who has been a long time presence in my life, and candles for the gods of my traditions and of my ancestors, I set out a cup and biscuits and invited those that wanted to join me in the kitchen to tea.
While cooking I felt them near; bustly, strong, female presences. Making food that nourishes is important work.
My partner and I sat down to eat with a place set for my ancestors, but, until I sat alone with a cuppa and a rock-cake and let my mind still I didn’t feel them clearly as I had in the kitchen. You have to listen to hear, of course.
An acknowledgement.
Recognition that they cannot do other than be part of my foundation, cannot do other than support me – though they could rock that foundation if I don’t act with honour.
A reminder to trust my instincts.
A sense of caring.
I left food out overnight for them to help themselves.
In the morning, I was surprised to see the teacup was still full of tea. Seemed to me that, really, it should have been empty…
A three-part story of a pilgrimage to The Community of the Many Names of God – Skanda Vale.
Four of us walked through the darkening forest, a reddening full moon rising over the horizon as raindrops dripped upon our brows.
The trees were full of magic, the Spirit and spirits of the land – I could feel them around us, moving swiftly, watching.
I last stood on this land after an early morning Puja to Her, several years past. I’d stayed at Skanda Vale for two days with a friend and we’d been to every Puja each day. I was burnt out. The lack of sleep, the intensity of devotion-devotion-devotion in a language I did not really understand, the immense amounts of vegetarian curry (very tasty but not my normal diet!). We’d planned to stay a further day. I left that morning and said, even then, that I’d love to go back to visit the land if only I didn’t have to go to the Pujas too.
Last night, as I walked through that forest, I remembered why I fell in love with the land there.
Somewhere so alive my skin tingled and my heart overflowed with joy.
The twilight filtered through the trees and lit the way. I felt blessed to be able to feel the life that flowed through that place, recognising that the work I’ve been doing to open my awareness is not without success. I once thought myself as psychically sensitive as a brick, unable to sense the magic in the world around me. Now I step onto devoted land and almost fall over. Take heart, the things you long for can be developed over time.
I grinned the whole walk up through that beautiful, haunting forest and wondered what the Dark Mother, in the Dark time of the year, under a Dark Full Moon would share with us at the Temple that evening.
Skanda Vale’s site is here… and parts 2 and 3 of the story will be posted soon…
