Druidcraft

by Gary Colcombe

  'I shall not talk about it too much, because these ceremonies are sacred to us, and you need to understand what you are doing with them. Besides, there are health risks involved - if you have any kind of heart trouble, for instance. We dedicate the whole ceremony to the goddess Brighid, because she is the goddess of Healing. She is also the goddess of the holy well and the sacred flame - of water and fire so it is fitting that a ceremony that uses the power of water and fire should be dedicated to her. Imagine how you would feel if, after your Blessing of the Elements meditation and mud-bath experience, you went through a sweathouse ceremony too.

  'Having explained all this, you can see how fundamental Nwyfre is to our health and well-being. Imagine living close to the earth, in a simple wooden house, surrounded by gardens and like-minded folk. Now imagine that you are eating home-grown food, drinking lots of pure water, and allowing your body to feel sunlight and air, wind and rain without feeling you always have to be covered with clothes for the sake of so~called decency. Imagine that every so often you are having a mud bath and sweathouse ceremony, and that every autumn you undertake a three-day cleansing with apples.

  'If you ever do get ill, there would be aromatherapists and healers nearby to massage you with herbs and oils, to treat you with elixirs, teas and poultices, and to listen to your problems - because often, as you know, our physical ills are caused by troubles of the heart and mind. That is why we need to train people to be Soul Friends - Anam Caras as they are called in Celtic spirituality - to act as counsellors, good listeners who know how to hear truly the voice of your soul, without letting themselves get in the way.

  'Finally, let me tell you about the way in which celebrating the seasonal festivals can help you live long and stay healthy. Everyone wants a quick fix to get healthy, but in reality it takes a while and one reason that many people are unhealthy is because they have separated themselves from the rhythm of Nature. But if you celebrate the eight seasonal festivals, you are consciously connecting to the rhythm and the power of the seasons and the natural world. Over time their magic starts to work on you - you become attuned to the cycles of the Earth and this has a profound effect on your feelings of health and well-being.'

  Until recently, most doctors and scientists laughed at the idea that a spiritual approach to healing was necessary. Their rational approach to medicine had brought enormous advances in their understanding and treatment of disease, and had swept away much superstition and ignorance. But they had also refused to give any consideration to the value of alternative methods of healing, particularly when these were based on a spiritual understanding of the human being. In the last few years, though, their approach has started to change. Little by little, scientific research into alternative medicine is starting to show that a wide range of these practices do actually work: acupuncture, herbaIism (both Western and Oriental), osteopathy and aromatherapy, all of these alternative approaches have been found to be beneficial and are being increasingly recommended by orthodox doctors, and are being introduced into major hospitals.

  But Druidcraft, like the Taoism of China, tells us that we can aim for more than just ways of repairing our bodies if they get ill. It tells us that we can strive for superior health and for rejuvenation, for youthfulness. In Celtic lands there are still Wells of Eternal Youth, where we are advised to bathe at dawn on Midsummer's morning, and the old tales inspire us with stories of Tir n'an Og - the Land of Eternal Youth. If we could unearth a recipe for Eternal Youth what would it tell us? What if our ancestors have given us the clues to creating vibrant health in the old stories and folk remedies that have been handed down to us from generation to generation?

  Although we may not be able to find a complete recipe for rejuvenation, and although there are no records of an entire healing system that comes exclusively from the practices of the ancient Druids or the old Cunning Folk, the Witches, it is possible to research, practice and evolve healing methods that are compatible with, and even derive from, these Sources. Recent findings, such as those given in Mary Beith's Healing Threads – Traditional Medicines of the Highlands and Islands show that today we can still trace valuable healing techniques back to the early Druids. The knowledge found within the herbal of the Welsh Physicians of Mydvai (published by The Welsh Manuscript Society, 1861) certainly derives from much earlier sources that could have originated in the Ovates or Witches of earlier days. This herbal, written in the thirteenth century, may contain material dating from as early as the sixth century - the time when Druidry was being superseded by Christianity. It is possible that as the door between one era and the next was closed, some of the ancients' knowledge managed to slip through.

  Illness is ubiquitous and any method or remedy found to work is likely to be handed down through generations. Research biologist Dr Andrew Allen explains in his book, A Dictionary of Sussex Folk Medicine that the majority of country folk did not use professional medical treatment until the late nineteenth century. It was prohibitively expensive, often geographically distant, and frequently it did not work or was even downright dangerous. Instead, they relied on home treatment using traditional family remedies. Dr Allen goes on:

  If home treatment failed, or if the ailment fell into specific catergories,

  [they] might turn to a 'white Witch', 'wise woman', 'cunning

  woman' or 'cunning man', often skilled in herbal medicine, who

  might cure the ailment by prescribing a folk remedy, by therapeutic

  white magic, charms or spells (or the lifting of curses or spells

  inflicted by Witches). More often it was a melange of both.

  Such individuals, based in the local community, commonly claimed

  to have a 'gift' for healing, either acquired or inherited. They operated

  in the context of the local economy and seldom asked for

  money for their services, preferring to be paid, tangibly or intangibly,

  in kind. 'Cunning folk' of both sexes were reputedly once

  as common as the parish clergy, and to be found in every parish in

  the country.

  In England, there were still Cunning Folk in some villages as late as the 1930s, and some of their methods of treatment have been recorded and tested with modern science (such as those of Grandmother Huggett). For example, staunching wounds with cobwebs is sensible - the filaments contain blood-clotting proteins - but glow-worm wine has no apparent healing properties!

  The lore has not all been lost. Like Miach's pattern on Airmid's cloak, it has been scattered, and it is up to us to combine the rigours of modern understanding with a respect for ancient knowledge, to create ways of healing that work for us in today's world.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Circle of Stones,

  The Ways of Magic and Spellcraft

  You have a Druid craft of wicked sound

  Wrung from the cold women of the sea

  W. B. Yeats

  Adne, son of Uthider. of the tribes of Connaught, had the

  greatest knowledge of wisdom and poetry in lreland. He had

  a son, Nede, who went to Scotland to learn from Eochu

  Horsemouth, with whom he stayed until he learned great skill.

  One day the youth went forth along the edge of the sea -

  poets ever believed that the brink of water was a place of

  revelation. And as he stood there, he heard a sound like a

  wailing chant of sadness, which seed strange to him. So he

  cast a spell upon the water, causing it to reveal to him what

  was the matter. And the wave declared that the wailing he

  had heard was for the death of his father. Adne.

  The Colloquy of the Two Sages. trans. John Matthews

  Druidry, Wicca and Druidcraft are paths of magic, but with the use of magic comes responsibility. Here, in the quotation above from an old Irish text that describes a dialogue between two magicians – two Bardic shamans - we see Nede casting a spell of Questing Magic that see
ks to determine the cause behind the world of appearances. Magic can indeed transcend the limitations of space and time, but it should only be attempted by those who are truly prepared for the knowledge they might acquire, and for the consequences of their actions.

  LUGAID THE FIRE MAKER

  If you were to walk beside Loch Lugh-phorta, that brooding Loch that lies a few miles to the east of the Shannon as it snakes its way towards the sea past Ballina, you would find, in the meadow that slopes towards the southern edge of the loch, a low flat mound: an ancient barrow. And it is in this barrow that lies the body of Lugaid Delbaeth, the Druid that everyone feared, called 'The Fire Producer' because he could make fire with the power of his mind and the brilliance of his speech.

  It was Lugaid who could also read fire like no other. He could gaze into flames of any kind - in a raging bonfire, a glowing hearth fire, or the sultry glimmer of a bedside candle. And he could speak of the future from what he saw. As two red-hot logs crumbled as one into a heap on the grate, he would foretell the fall of two great houses in a conflagration of hatred and war. As flames shot from the boughs of ancient ash, felled in the king's forest, he would speak of love born in the heat of summer, and of the king's issue who would ride triumphant to the court of Tara bringing honour and riches to his tribe and family.

  If you go now to sit on the barrow of Lugaid the Fire Gazer, the Fire Maker, and look out at the Loch of Lugh-phorta, it might just happen that after a while you would fall into a sleep. In the old days this is exactly what the magician's apprentice would be told to do. The apprentice would have to sleep out on the old barrows, on the burial mounds of the heroes and heroines of the tribe, to seek a dream, to enter the world of the heroes, to be given guidance and courage, inspiration and insight into the world beyond time. And if you did this, if you fell asleep, you might find yourself encountering the ghostly form of Lugaid, who with right arm outstretched would create a raging fire out of nothing but the pointing of his finger towards the earth. And with a wistful, world-weary, but kindly smile, he would motion you to sit beside the fire with him, and he would begin to tell you the story of the land around you, and of the fate of his family of seven children:

  'Our lives changed forever the day our daughter Deidre married that wretch Trad,' he would say, gazing into your eyes with an Otherworldly look of sorrow, which, even as you waited for his next words, would give way to a smile of the deepest wisdom.

  'She loved him dearly, though, and in the end it is love that counts. And however hard your fate may seem, still it conceals a jewel, a hidden purpose - as we were about to discover.

  'Trad had hardly a penny to his name, and just a few acres on the side of the hill that he tried to farm as best he could. But he was a man who loved to plough and sow in the warm embrace of his wife, rather than in the rough earth of a northern hillside. And so his family grew and grew. It seems as if no year passed without Deirdre giving birth to a new grandchild of mine, until, in desperation, Trad came to me one day and asked me to use my Druid powers to see how he might obtain more land to farm.

  'How could I refuse my own son-in-law? He needed the land to feed his children – my grandchildren! I asked him to make his offerings to the goddess - to Brighid of the Flame and of the Waters. At dawn the next day, he cast coins of gold and silver into her well, uttering the Prayers of Wishing, before making his way to my forest hermitage. This was where I did my magic, consulted the oracles, and journeyed to the Otherworld. This was a place I had built with my own hands, apart from the hubbub of the family, from the wrangling and tussling of my six sons - and the attentions of my three wives!

  'When Trad arrived I bad him sit beside my altar. I called to the gods of Sea, Sky and Land. I called to Brighid to bring her flame to my aid, and when I felt her power surge through me, I flung my arm out and with a cry pointed to the centre of my altar. And there sprang up at once a roaring flame. Gazing directly into its heart, as I had been taught to do so long ago by my Master, I entered - almost in an instant - the trance state of imbas. Now the power of the Goddess flowed through me - not as fire, but as Inspiration. And opening my mouth to let Her speak through me, I turned to Trad and cried out, “This know today. Ask of any man to surrender his land, and your command he will be honour bound to obey!''

  'The flame died down and extinguished itself on my altar. The imbas had flowed and was gone from me. I collapsed beside the altar, breathing deeply, thanking the Goddess, waiting for my strength to return. When I could stand again, I turned to face Trad. But there was an evil gleam in his eye, as he stared at me with a look of defiance saying, “On this day of mine, I ask that you, Lugaid, surrender your lands to me!'' And so, in an instant, my destiny was changed forever. I was honour bound to hand my estate at once to Trad.

  'What thoughts raged through my head! Although my heart swelled to think that my daughter and grandchildren would be well-provided for by my bounteous fields and forests, I knew that Trad would scarcely tend these lands with the care they needed. And why did he not ask another man to surrender his land, rather than his own father-in-law? What would I do with my six sons and three wives? Where would we go? Where would we farm and grow old? But I trusted in the Goddess. I had seen enough of life to know that however bleak the future seems, still in the darkness She is present, guiding us with Her hand.

  'Within days Trad had revealed his true colours. Despite the protestations of our daughter and our grandchildren, he ordered us to leave. With cruel eyes and vicious words he cast us from our house. I will never forgot the look of horror on the face of my daughter, and the cries of anguish from her children, as the cart carrying our family and its few possessions trundled away from the homestead towards the river.

  'We crossed the Shannon at Ballina and headed east towards the hills and Carn Fiacha. We reached the lakeside at dusk. and as we stood gazing on its waters, three swans rose from the surface of the lake. They circled thrice above the lake, and then flew west towards the setting sun. And it was then I knew that this would be the place of my growing old and my death. It was a place of great beauty and stillness, and I saw now why the Goddess had led us here. My wives knew this for themselves too, and since no one had claimed these lands, we set about building our home and tilling the soil. But all along we knew that our sons needed to find their own lands to farm, and one morning at dawn my spirit guides woke me with the thought ringing in my head that I must light a great fire, and pray to Brighid to find land for my sons.

  'All that day we gathered wood from far and wide, until by night-fall we had built the greatest bonfire I had ever seen. The ten of us stood in a circle around the fire. We called to the spirits of East, West, South and North. We called to the Four Winds. We called to the spirits of Mountain and Plain, of River, Lake and Sea. And then I called to Brighid and once more Her power surged through me, and I was able to fling my arm out and, with the Incantation of Fire on my lips, point to the centre of the woodpile. All at once, flames of red, green, blue and gold sprang from its heart, and it was as if every fire sprite in Erin was dancing in its midst. I called then to Brighid that we might be shown new lands for our sons, and in that moment the entire pile burst into a mighty blaze, and five streams of fire shot forth and ran like molten lava along the ground to the far horizons.

  'In the wild beauty of this moment, there came a stillness within my heart. And in this stillness I seemed to hear the voice of a woman, who, in deep and sonorous tones, spoke to me saying, "Hold Nos, your youngest son, close to you. He must stay with you here till you die. But send your five older sons to follow each one of them a different stream. Where each stream ends there should each one settle. And just as the Sacred Well feeds the five streams of life-giving water that flow across Tir n'an Og, so will your fire become the hearth fire of the tribe that will grow from the seed of your children. And from all five directions they will come to gather at this hearth fire at the times of celebration – Bealteinne and Lughnasadh, Samhain and Imbolc.'

 
; And as you hear this, the figure of Lugaid seated beside the fire, talking to you of his life and lands, of the story of the origin of his tribe and their country, slowly begins to fade until you find yourself waking up on the low flat grassy mound beside Loch Lugh-phorta, with the sun rising in the east, as three white swans come to land on the still waters of the lake.

  Awakening from the reverie induced by the Bard's tale, as if from a dream, you make your way with your fellow students towards the ancient stone circle that stands upon the hillside above the houses and fields ofAvronelle, until at last you see your teacher, Elidir, gazing out to sea.