Happy calendrical Lughnasadh

Enjoy “Lughnasadh Dance” by Gwydion Pendderwen! [Read more…]

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Bull Stones : the approach of Domhnach Chrom Dubh (Lughnasadh, Lughna Dubh)

The Festival of Lughnassadh is approaching! The earth is swelling, the weather is warm, thunder rolls in the night, and the Irish landscape has been shaped with reminders of this ancient festival of The Bull — Chrom Dubh. [Read more…]

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A Weapons Problem

The kinds of knives that I enjoy tossing in my backpack for a weekend of camping or clipping to my front pocket for every day use are all illegal in Scotland. The fact that these tools are religious items probably won’t protect me in court. [Read more…]

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Genital Mutilation: a question for the modern-day animist

The abortion debate rages in the US and Ireland, and we ask, “Who has the right to self-determination?” The answer is radicalizing for an animist, leading down a rabbit hole of epic proportion. Is the disruption to our exceptionalism worth it? What ARE the (reproductive) rights of nature, anyway? [Read more…]

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Communication 101 (for witches and others): toward Place speaking

Summer has finally arrived in Ireland (touch wood), and the fine weather draws people out of doors. With the pull of the ‘glowing orb’ on her mind, Traci considers how and when we tell sacred stories, and how considering such things is important for a Witch–or any animist. [Read more…]

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Syncretism: An Immigrant’s Path

To choose to use the term “syncretism” over “eclecticism” is not a statement that one is better than the other. The syncretic path has a clear cosmology, a blueprint of how the world works, which it overlays with images, ideas, and practices from other traditions. To return to the quilting analogy, eclecticism starts with the patches and builds a picture, but syncretism starts with a picture and figures out how the patches fit into it. [Read more…]

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When the Sun Stands Still: Summer Solstice in Ireland

The light, gold, like the deep raw honey of summer, washes the front garden.  The sun rests just over the eastern ridge, risen less than 30 minutes, but the first light, the uncanny gold–like a crown–wakes me.  This mysterious morning light rouses me every time, every year.  By half five I am called out of [Read More…]

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