Finding Home

View of Mt Rainer from Anderson Island

Today was a fantastic day. I did two unusual things. The first was meeting my fellow Sense of Place author Rhyd Wildermuth for the first time. The second was buying clothes. More on the second in a moment. (Trust me, it's relevant.) Rhyd and I talked about a lot of things, but the thing that stayed on my mind as I left him and set off in search of new clothes was what we discussed about Seattle as a place that we both feel we can call "home". It's not that Seattle is the absolute most … [Read more...]

The power of the song thrush: life, death and the feast of St. John

Image by Jose Sousa, used under Creative Commons license.

"'Twas on the twenty-fourth of June Oh, as I sat weaving all at my loom, 'Twas on the twenty-fourth of June Oh, as I sat weaving all at my loom, I heard a thrush, singing on yon bush, And the song she sang was the jug of punch." These words are the first verse of a traditional Irish drinking song, The Jug of Punch, in its simplest form. I'm thinking of it today, St. John's Eve. The feast of St. John, celebrated on the 23rd and 24th June, is a Christian gloss over the celebration of the … [Read more...]

Home.

Today, I was going to write a long post. About how happy I am to be home after two years of rebuilding. About what home means. About how good it feels to walk around 'our' land and know each plant and bird and critter by name. About how happy those beings seem that we're back -- the non-corporeal ones, too. (I'm sure the sweet things I left in the trees and the little "Happy to be home!" song I sang helped with the latter.) But as happy as I am, I'm surrounded by boxes, the house smells of … [Read more...]

Signs of Beltane Approaching

blackthorn

The land is finally waking, here in the cold north (aka Scotland). Ostara is the balance of day and night, as elsewhere, but the land does not really wake until Beltane -- also known as Beltaine, or Bealtuinn. Spring and summer come upon us all of a piece, here. Here and now, the oyster catchers nest, the swallows arrive, the curlews warble, yet the sycamore is still bare-limbed. Daffodils and celandines and coltsfoot and wood anemones all bloom together. The blossoming … [Read more...]

Clutha

Clyde, Clydeh, Clydhe, Cludha. The waters rise up, envelop you, take you down. Cold at first, oh so cold, but your core temperature drops, As he makes you his own. Warm now, in his embrace, you see for the first time, the history of this place. The visions play before your eyes, Scenes of battles, scenes of peace. Lives of dear friends in a dear green place. A foreign God, a man from the south, the true tales of a tree, a bird, a fish, a bell, and the path man took to create a … [Read more...]

Clutha

Clutha

When I'm here in Glasgow, I attend an open public circle at each of the major holidays. At each ritual, the name Clutha is invoked, spoken of as the Spirit of this Place, but for some reason, it that name had never quite settled into my bones before. At our Spring Equinox ritual, the name echoed in my soul in a new way. It reverberated in my mind as I left the park where we meet. It wound its way through me over the rest of the afternoon. I have no idea why I hadn't looked up the name before, or … [Read more...]

‘Big’ people are people, too.

argesar

This piece was originally published on 26th October, 2013, at my personal blog. When asked to think about how religion has changed in 2013, and how that change has affected me personally, this experience immediately came to mind. It's not about Paganism, but it is about people, and place, and community. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Doesn’t this guy look sweet? He’s Chöje Akong Tulku Rinpoche, co-leader of Kagyu Samyé Ling … [Read more...]


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