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Broomstick Chronicles: Laura Janesdaughter: A Priestess Passes
The Littlest Druid learns about loss
I originally wrote this when we lost Beth to cancer and for my brother who also had cancer and now it is for Laura Janesdaughter. She loved The Littlest Druid. I hope she had a Ban Sidhe to guide her. She loved Celtic lore as much as her beloved Isis and Nepthys.
Dedicated to Beth Van Dyke and Cameron Robb – journey well
Once upon a time the littlest Druid was sitting by the stream outside the village. It was the only place she could go where the water would drown out the sound of her sobbing.
She wanted to be brave and she wanted to look forward but at the moment her heart was broken. Her best friend was gone and she didn’t understand why it had to happen. She felt even more alone than she normally did.
When she had arrived at the Druid school two sun rotations before she had arrived at the same time as another student, Beith was the same age as Aisling but as different as night was from day. Where Aisling was red haired and freckled and with a fiery temperament to match Beith was cool and calm like the tree she was named for Birch. She was fair with dark hair and dark eyes but they might as well have been sisters. In fact, when they were allowed to pick a soul friend their first year, their anam cara. They had chosen each other. They were supposed to pick some one older who could advise them but they had chosen each other and their teacher and the Chief Druid had agreed to it.
No two spirits could have been closer. The two were together whenever their chores and studies had permitted and maybe if they had been allowed to do their assignments together Aisling wouldn’t have been so creative in the trouble she got into but that is for another time.
The spring before when Aisling and Beith were running together on the moors chasing the sheep, Beith had fallen suddenly and had had trouble getting up again. Aisling had to find the shepherds to carry Beith back to the village. Beith would never run with Aisling over the moors again.
For some awful reason she wouldn’t heal and there was nothing the Druid healers could do for her. They tried every herb they knew. They tried to sweat it out. They tried all the special rituals they knew but Beith got weaker and weaker and began to have trouble breathing.
They let Aisling visit all the time and never kept her out and they allowed her to be part of the rituals so she knew what was happening to the sister of her soul but nothing had worked. They finally sent a message to Beith’s parents to come and say goodbye. That was rather unusual because once someone joined the Druids, the Druids were their family but Aisling thought they had done it because Beith wasn’t a full Druid yet or they could have just been being kind but they had arrived a few nights ago.
Aisling was sitting alone with Beith when she opened her eyes the last time and smiled. “Don’t cry, I’ll be back,” she said and slipped away. Aisling had called for the healers but there was nothing they could do. Beith was off on her voyage to the Summerland and Aisling had lost the sister she had found.
So Aisling was sitting on the banks of the burn mixing her salty tears with the cold clear water when someone came and sat by her on the bank.
“Why are you crying?” said a soft voice.
“My friend is gone and I miss her.” Sobbed Aisling.
“Ah, the wee one who left for the Summerlands this morning,” The voice said.
Aisling looked up startled and saw a beautiful older woman with hair that looked soft like owl feathers sitting by her. She was dressed all in green and wasn’t much taller than Aisling was.
“How did you know?” asked Aisling.
“It’s my job to ken when souls need to leave on their journey. I saw you there. What did she tell you?” asked the woman.
“She said she’d be back and not to cry.” answered Aisling.
“And so you’re crying out where no one can see you or help you.”
“How would it help to be where people would pity me? We’re supposed to be happy when people die. They say they are happy now and not in pain. They tell us that they have been reborn in the Summerland and that they will come back soon. They would just tell me to be strong and happy.”
The woman sat for a moment and said. “I’m sure some would understand the hurt of losing your friend and anam cara. They’ve lost people too and loss hurts no matter how we tell ourselves it shouldn’t. Someday the pain stops and you just remember the love. Then it’s easier to be happy.”
Aisling looked up at the woman. “Do you think I should go back now?”
“I think maybe you should go hug Beith’s parents. They know she is on her journey now but it will still hurt them for her to be gone. They did name her for the first tree or beginning of the journey, you know. They will understand.”
“I guess,” Aisling whispered. She really didn’t want to go back.
“And when you’re parents named you, Aisling for dreams and visions, they knew what they were doing too. Be patient, wee one.”
The woman started to slip away and began to change into an old woman and disappear. Aisling heard the soft call of an owl in the twilight of the deep forest and it dawned on her that she had just had a chat with the ban sidhe and gave a shiver. Aisling got up and headed back to the village.
Masterpiece Monday – Remembering Laura
She flies with her herons on the wings of Isis
The woman we all love so much, Laura Janesdaughter left on the wings of Isis at sunrise. (The priestess with red hair.)
All hail the Hieromum! All hail Laura. All hail the beloved daughter of Isis, Nepthys and BunniHoTep!
The beloved Arch Druidess has retreated to her Hazelwood Grove.
My heart is breaking and soaring with her at the same time.
Knot of Isis prayer
At the ends of the universe is a blood red cord that binds life to death, will to destiny, and each of us to the other.
Let the knot of that red sash, which cradles the hips of the Goddess, bind in us the ends of life and dream.
We are each of us with our own share of hopes and misgivings.
Let our thoughts lay together in peace.
At our deaths let the bubbles of blood on our lips taste as sweet as berries.
Give us not consolation, give us magic.
Give us the spell of living well. We rise and walk.
The sky arcs ever around and the world spreads itself beneath our feet.
We are bound mind to Mind and heart to Heart.
No shadow exists between our footsteps and the will of Goddess. We walk in harmony, heaven in one hand, earth in the other.
We are the knot where the two worlds meet.
Red magic courses through our veins like the blood of Isis ~ magic of Magic, spirit of Spirits.
We are proof of the power of Goddess.
We are dust and water walking.
From the book of coming forth AKA the Egyptian Book of the Dead
Translation by Normandi Ellis
Becoming the Heron – Laura’s favourite bird
I am a blue heron, pure as bone. I know the stirrings of the Nile, the source where the river rises overlapped by trees, where flamingos dip and wade, where fish are plentiful. I fly beneath an arch of trees straight into the eye of heaven. I make a long journey amid mud houses, singing. I’ve paused on the river bank and stayed to watch the transformation of butterflies.
I was given a name on earth and a place in heaven. And I remember the quiet coming of goddesses along the river, baskets of fish on their heads, faces shining, feet caked with mud. I’ve wandered into empty temples at night and looked on the rough faces of dying gods and paused with wonder at the shallow caves where the god-seekers smile and wait, clothed only in their own light. I know the cool mind of blue sky and the hot mysteries of earth. And I found my own goddesses while pecking seeds and resting on one leg watching reflections float on the water.
Talk is unnecessary. We’ve been seduced by many words, many colours, many bright flowers. I speak for the quiet language of sun, the yawn and shudder of a new born lion covered with black markings. I speak for the goddesses hidden in things that cry: Uncover your faces. Through your own light, come. There is fire within you three thousand times over that you do not yet know. From your bodies you give birth to all time and its seasons. The goddess you seek is within. The truth you chase lies between your own eyebrows. Look again with a different eye.
I am the blue heron, the messenger, a reborn and dying goddess. I celebrate neither birth nor death. Whatever is given me, I take like a fish from the water. By day I exist because I exist. By night I sail above the river, a single star wise in the darkness.
From Awakening Osiris, The Egyptian Book of the Dead. Translation by Normandi Ellis
Last night as we sat
Last night Denise and Mary and I were honoured to spend time with Laura and to repeat the prayers she wrote for us when we became Druids in our Grove along with the Genealogy of Brighid and others and of course sing to her the Brighid chant. After was the only time all evening she opened her eyes and was present for just a bit. We are so honoured and love her so much for creating the Grove with us. The trees of the Hazelwood Grove all watch over Laura with love. Blessings of Brighid, Elen and The Green Man, our Grove guardians watch over her.
