Celtic Wheel Series

Reflections on the eight turning points of the Celtic year

Artwork: Áine Fortune & Lucy Cullen © 2019

#1 Samhain Reflections Part 1: The Magic of the Cailleach

You may wish to read this piece (7 mins) and listen to a selection of my poetry that goes with it or just listen to the poems (below) and / or read the poems here

The Celtic Wheel turned to Samhain on November 6th this year, marking the start of Winter. Astronomically speaking, it turned on the morning of November 7th but for the ancient celts, day was measured from dusk to dusk, because wisely, they knew that all things begin in the dark, in the belly of the earth, the womb of the world. Seeds planted at this time of year in the northern hemisphere, gestate and are nourished before sprouting in springtime.

For the same reason, the Celtic new year begins at Samhain, the mouth of Winter, entry point to the dark time. Spiritually, we are called at this time to plant our own seeds, our inner seeds of intention for the coming year, so they may be nourished in the darkness, in dreamtime, emerging manifestly when they are ready to be birthed.

Towards dusk on November 6th, the eve of Samhain, I took advantage of a brief respite from the rain to go for a stroll. As I walked, I found myself pondering the meaning and interpretation of words and ideas associated with this time of year: witch; magic; crone / cailleach; spirits walking; dark time; dreamtime. A magical light played around me everywhere. The land of Éire, so called for the goddess Éiriú, daughter of King Dagda of the Tuatha Dé Danann (people of the goddess Danú) was drenched, following days of storms and relentless rain. Lúgh, the god of light and sun, still shone weakly in the sky but was giving way to the deep feminine through Áine, goddess of fertility and the moon (footnotes 1 & 2).

Often throughout my life, friends have called me ‘witch’ or ‘witchy’ because my birthday falls on Halloween (October 31st) but they also use it as a fond moniker to denote my ‘alternative’ worldview. To me, ‘witch’ means Wise Woman; Healer; one who understands the ways of nature - in itself a form of magic. In our vernacular though, ‘witch’ is perceived as something bad and possibly evil. This view has been encouraged for many hundreds of years, certainly by Christian churches but not exclusively and has left an indelible print on the collective psyche.

The Cailleach (crone, witch, wise woman), known as Kali in India and by similar names in other cultures, is the goddess who represents destruction and creation or death and re-birth, as part of the never-ending cycle of birth-death-rebirth, denoted in the Celtic world by the Triskele (Triple Spiral) and associated also with the snake or serpent for its ability to shed old skin and grow anew. There is nothing in the natural world, humans included, which does not submit to the Cailleach. Life decays, de-composes and is re-composed into another form.

One of the greatest and most necessary aids in this cycle, is the fungi that are ubiquitous on Earth and the fruiting bodies thereof (mushrooms), which are so prolific at this time of year in northern climes. Some of these are known to have ‘magical’ properties, making them highly prized as a spiritual, mystical tool, helping Shamans and others for thousands of years, to see the world outside of their normal perceptive range.

A large part of the magic of mushrooms though (whether they are psycho-active or not), is in their ability to transform, through the process of de-composition and re-composition. The cycle of life is constant transformation, shape-shifting moment to moment and fungi are a pivotal part of that cycle. In this way, they teach us that there is no death, only change. Though we may mourn the loss of that which we thought of as ‘solid’, fungi are a poignant reminder that all of life engages in this never-ending dance and that the dark time is simply the cycle beginning again.

Without the gift of transformation, there would be stagnation, a stagnation affecting both our internal and our external landscape, impeding change or new growth on any level, physical or spiritual. This magical time of year allows us to see that in a very real way. It provides a potent remedy to the pursuit of constant growth, ensuring that life may continue in health and balance.

Fire also breaks down and transforms what it consumes. Thus, it is a compelling symbol of transformation. We cast into the fire, that which we would like to leave behind, thereby creating space for the new. The Cailleach, through her transformative fire, gives us re-birth into new life, by showing us how to let go of the old. This is surely a gift of magic, born of wisdom.

Resisting the darkness of Winter, the cold and storms, is a futile endeavour, though we may try to convince ourselves otherwise, through busying ourselves in the world of things. Nonetheless, she calls us to follow her lead, as so much of the natural world does and retreat into the darkness to rest for a while. Once we surrender to the alchemical magic of the dark time, retreating both metaphorically to the inner fire of our heart and literally, perhaps, to our hearth at home, we come to see this time as a period of gestation that will bring forth new life, a beginning rather than an ending. We see its wisdom and necessity.

By shedding the old, as a snake its skin, we can focus more clearly on birthing the new. What we are birthing, is our Dharma, often translated as our ‘purpose’ in life, our work in the world. This does not mean the narrow definition of what we do in the world, however. It relates more to who we are and specifically, being the fullest expression of who we are, without limiting ourselves to who we believe we are supposed to be, the stories we carry in our heads. How can we express the fullness of who we are if we don’t yet know this ourselves?

Thus, the gift of the Cailleach is Winter, the time of the deep feminine, when life retreats to the darkness of the earth to rest. It is an opportunity for inward reflection and gestation, which affords us the space to stand back and see where we are going, where our path is taking us. From this insightful place, we come to understand which seeds must be planted to take us forwards on our journey when the light begins to increase again at the next turn of the Wheel - Winter Solstice (mid-Winter).

Walking in that magical light at dusk on November 6th, I knew without doubt that if I face North, the direction of the Cailleach, surrender to what she offers and plant my seeds of intention deep in the darkness, warmed by the fire in my heart, she will nourish them through me focusing my loving attention and energy in that direction, the direction of my Dharma.

Which seeds are you dream-weaving in the darkness?

Audio recordings of a selection of my poetry

Samhain Magic

Love Revealed

Dharma

Destiny’s Choice

Facing North

1 Danú, also spelled Anu, or Dana, the earth-mother goddess or female principle, who was honoured under various names from eastern Europe to Ireland. The mythology that surrounded her was contradictory and confused; mother goddesses of earlier peoples were ultimately identified with her, as were many goddesses of the Celts themselves. Possibly a goddess of fertility, of wisdom, and of wind, she was believed to have suckled the gods. Her name was borne by the legendary Tuatha Dé Danann (“People of the Goddess Danú”), the Irish company of gods, who may be considered either as distinct individuals or as extensions of the goddess and who survive in Irish lore as the fairy folk, skilled in magic.

Source: www.britannica.com/topic/Danu

2 The god Lúgh and the goddess Áine are mythological figures of the legendary Tuatha Dé Danann. Lúgh is associated with, among other aspects, the sun and light. Áine is associated variously with the sun, the moon, the land, crops and cattle, abundance and fertility. Though Áine is predominantly a solar goddess and celebrated as such at Summer Solstice, she is also associated with the moon, which may be because of an intertwining with the goddess Anu over time. The name Anu was most likely derived from Danú and so, may be considered as an extension of her, a daughter, or as one of her many aspects. In Celtic folklore, Áine and Lúgh come together at mid-summer (Summer Solstice), symbolising the integration of the Sacred Masculine and the Sacred Feminine, thereby ensuring continued fertility and abundance on Earth.