Archive | January 2012

Pagan Descent of Brighid


Every day and every night

that I say the geneaology of Brighid

I shall not be killed

I shall not be harmed

I shall not be put into a cell

I shall not be wounded

No fire, no sun, no moon shall burn me

No lake, no water, no sea shall drown me.

For I am the child of Poetry,

Poetry, child of Reflection,

Reflection, child of Meditation,

Meditation, child of Lore,

Lore, child of Research,

Research, child of Great Knowledge,

Great Knowledge, child of Intelligence,

Intelligence, child of Comprehension,

Comprehension, child of Wisdom,

Wisdom, child of Brighid.

Carmina Gaedelica edited by Lunea Weatherstone

May my words be as considered as poetry,

May I reflect on all I do or say,

May I meditate on those things important spiritually

May I seek to know more of the lore

May I research what I am curious about and what will enable me to grow

May I seek to know great knowledge,

May I acknowledge the intelligence of others

May I comprehend what I seek to learn and apply those lessons

May I know that seeking wisdom is not the same as being wise.

May I be a child of Brighid.

SelfBlessing is by me


Brighid, bean-oirdheirc

Lasrach grad

Fetaim lasrach soillse

Thoir cuireadh sinne

ris a’ bheatha mhaireannach`

Brighid, Sublime Woman

Quick flame

Long may you burn bright!

You give us the invitation to life everlasting


Baking – The Pagan Blog Project B

One of the things I learned growing up as part of my training was how to bake and how to add that special “Something” that makes it magical. I was trained by my grandmother as part of my magical training as she had been trained by her grandparent. My mom rejected the training from her grandfather who just happened to be a professional baker. More fool her. She didn’t want anything to do with anything “weird”.

As far as my grandmother was concerned, there was no difference between learning how to talk to animals and plants or how to make magical clothing and sachets or learning our family’s Scottish history and teaching me how to bake.

Grandma would learn new tool for cooking that came along but when it came to special recipes like my great grandfather’s shortbread recipe it had to be done by hand. No mixer just using your hands and intending all good things for the people that would eat it.  I still can’t make it unless I clear my mind and just concentrate on the dough.

Grandpa Alex’s Shortbread recipe

1 LB of flour (I use unbleached) 1 LB = 4 cups

1 LB butter

1/4 LB of Brown sugar

Cream with your hands together until you get one large dough ball. Works best with cold butter cut into chunks. If the butter is warm it sticks to your hands.

Have a piece of brown paper cut from one side of a grocery bag.

Pat out until 1/2 thick. Mark with a fork on lines for breaking. DO not use a cookie sheet.

Bake at 350 degrees until a light tan.

Break apart when cool. DO NOT cut with knife. This will change the chemical constitution of the cookie. It’s very fragile anyway.

Alter egos

As guessed, the event with the swan was a true story. Only it was me that got bit badly by the swan.

My dad used to go over to Forest Lawn Glendale to visit the Mausoleum there. He is the only person I know in our family that ever visited graves. My mom’s side never went to cemeteries until some one else died. They always said there was no one there so what was the point. And since ghosts were a factor in our family I can see their point of view. Why go visit when they were going to visit us?

Anyway he liked to go visit his Aunt Mae and Uncle Kenneth. I think he thought of Aunt Mae as more of a mother than his real mother or his grandmother, who was pretty evil according to stories. He used to take me with him to feed the swans in the front fountain. They don’t have swans there anymore but they did in the 50’s and 60’s.

When I was about 4 years old he took me with some bread to feed them and I remember him telling me don’t stick your finger out and to hold my hand flat. I, of course paid no attention being his “Mary, Mary quite contrary” and stuck my finger out and promptly got very badly bitten. I still remember very vividly how much it hurt and bleeding profusely all over both him and me. He had to use his ever present handkerchief to bind up my finger and me crying profusely. Dad was usually very sympathetic when we were hurt or sick but not that day. He was mad. He knew mom would be mad and I had done exactly what he had told me not to do. Mostly I remember the swan being bigger than me and really mean. I was terrified of swans and geese which are about as nice for many years until I became a pagan and started noticing that swans would show up every time I was afraid of something that I should face. I’m not terrified anymore but I’m usually not happy to see them. The other day I went hunting the white pelicans in the park since they weren’t in the refuge and saw three big white birds and parked my car and got the three swans instead.

If you haven’t guessed by now of all the characters running around in my head the Littlest Druid is the closest to being my alter ego. I have sat and watched rose bushes when I was Arts and Crafts Director at Singing Pines. There were some near my A&C lodge and I was always fascinated with all the lives that when in and out.

The Green Man was in a dream that I’m still not sure was a real dream. It was the realest dream I’ve ever had and I kept waking up and going right back into it until morning. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life and parts of it will always remain private.

So it’s always interesting when Aisling comes to tell me stories and I eagerly await how each one goes and how it will end. I just get to know a little before you do. 😉