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The Littlest Druid gets ready for Am-Foghar (Autumn)

Aisling sat on the stone step outside the healer’s cottage. It was late in the afternoon and for once no one was in any of the healer’s cottages. The cottage next door where they kept the herbs and the medicines was still. The Herbalist was out on the moors collecting plants and everything that could be cleaned or mixed was done at the moment. The last grain harvest would start in a few days when the moon was full.

Aisling had nothing she was supposed to be doing. Lessons would start again after the harvest and the village was quiet, something that didn’t happen very often. Aisling was thinking about harvests and the different kinds of harvests. The year would be ending soon and food being gathered for the winter. The weavers were busy weaving and knitting warm woolen and linen cloth to be made into winter clothes and yarns of different weights and colours to be used for knitting by the fire when the snows came. They had just finished dying the wools. Aisling had enjoyed creating the dyes with the herbalist. She thought it was rather magical when something that was green like yarrow could create a yellow dye or how some crushed bugs could make a rich red. She had learned a lot in this year. She had been there when babies were born and when the new lambs entered the world. She was there when her friend, the priestess had gone into the West. She learned about healing herbs and how to make teas and medicines. She learned some new divination techniques with the Ogham sticks. She’d learned to interpret the flights of birds and the patterns of clouds. She’d learned poem after poem and lots of new songs. Her friend the Raven had taught her so much about birds and things like how to go quietly and how to laugh at herself.

The harvest would start on the day of equal day and equal night that also happened to be the full moon this year so they could have the feast that followed the first day of harvest when the sun set and the moon rose.

Aisling was missing the priestess who had gone to the West. Aisling thought she had learned more from her than when she was supposed to be in class or with her mentors. She missed their cream teas. The priestess always managed to charm Cook into a plate of s’gons and some cream or freshly churned butter. The Priestess had become a favourite with everyone in the Druid village even the Chief Druid spent long hours comparing notes about their villages and how they did things. She had been a truly wise woman and when she passed over the water the last time the whole village had sung her home. The priestess had left almost as big a hole as her Anam Cara had when she had left. She knew Anann, the bean sidhe had said they were both fine and that death was a part of life but it didn’t make the harvest of loss any easier when you wanted to share a secret or what you had learned during the day. It didn’t make thinking you saw them in the distance and realizing it was someone else, any easier when you knew it wasn’t them and that you’re heart had fooled you again. She did wonder when she smelled the scent of lavender when there was no lavender anywhere nearby if someone was visiting so she had started saying hello and chatting when there was no one around to hear the conversation.

The cottage faced west and the sun was starting to set. Aisling closed her eyes and let the last warm rays of the sun bathe her in the warmth when someone sat down beside her. Aisling was almost afraid to open her eyes because so many big and strange people had sat down beside her to talk. Who was it this time? She sniffed the air and knew who it was and laughed.

“Why are you laughing, Aisling.” The Chief Druid chuckled softly because he knew why, he just had to ask.

“You know,” Aisling said, “I’ve had some pretty interesting people sit by me when I least expect it.”

The Chief Druid laughed, “So what were you thinking about so solemnly?”

“Everything I’ve learned this year. It’s almost Samhain and we’ll start over again before winter. I’ve learned so much but I’ve also lost things I didn’t expect to lose.”

“Like your Anam Cara and your friend, the priestess? You know, Latharn, thought you were something very special.”

“She did?” asked Aisling.

“She did, and I miss her too.” Said the Chief Druid. “She taught me a lot too.”

Aisling looked at the Chief Druid in astonishment. “She did. She taught me to face death with a full heart. She taught me to say when people mean something to them. She taught me to count my blessings.”

“I thought you knew all those things” Aisling looked at the Chief Druid with big eyes.

“I knew them but I didn’t KNOW them. Does that make sense?” Aisling thought about it and nodded her head.

“I think so.” Aisling said slowly.

“Latharn thought that someday you will be a great druid because you have an open heart and an open mind and because you love so completely.”

Aisling sat in stunned silence. Latharn had really thought that about her!

“She thought I should start teaching you some things that the others in your class aren’t ready for yet.”

Aisling was looking at the Chief Druid like an owlet that had been woken up suddenly. “Wwwhhyyy? Did she want you to do that?”

“Well, no one else your age or even among the other druids have had conversations with Brighid or Lugh or the Green Man or any of the others that have befriended you since you’ve been here.” Aisling was just staring.

“Think that would be a good thing to start after Samhain” asked the Druid in a teasing voice.

“Really? You want to teach just me? No one else?”

“Just you and maybe some of your friends will help sometimes.” He smiled to himself. This was going to be an interesting winter.

“I’ll let you digest that for awhile. I’ll see you at ritual. Would you recite a poem at ritual about what you are thankful for this year?”

Aisling nodded. She didn’t feel able to speak yet. She looked to the West just as the sun was setting over the far hills. She felt like someone far away had just smiled at her and maybe they had.

I feel the need for an extra Flameshift

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Brighid watch over us

May your flame light our way

Through the night

Through the storms

Through our tears

May your waters sooth and heal

Heal our hearts,

Heal our bodies,

Heal our minds.

May your forge make us strong

Strong enough to fight what needs to be fought

Strong enough to accept what can’t be

Strong enough to stand under the burdens we accept

Brighid, we burn your flame

We drink from your well

We are strong when we are weak because we have your blessing

We drink from your well to be healed

We walk in the mist following your footsteps.

We carry your flame with us and give to all who need it.

Brighid, we are your flames in the world.

Kat

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Flameshift

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Every day and every night that I say the genealogy 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

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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

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A prayer for Laura

 

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Oh Hecate, Be with us this week
This was a week, 3 years ago that was so hard
You sat with us as we sat with Laura
We watched her pass from our realm to yours
We sang, We prayed, We read to her
We soothed her fears and tried to sooth our own
We loved her in all the ways we could
And we wept.

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Oh Hecate, let her know she was loved
Let her know her name is still spoken
Let her know that her life was written on our hearts
Let her know she helped us grow
She taught us to be priestesses by her being one
She taught us to stay on the path

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She showed us the Goddess and we followed
She showed us courage
She showed us love
She showed us the path
Oh Hecate, I miss her
I miss her ideas
I miss her encouragement
I miss her wild red hair and ever changing streaks
I miss the matching nail polish
But most of all I miss her wisdom and love

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Poetry Month – Who is the Goddess?

The Goddess is dark and beautiful with knowing eyes.

The Goddess is old and walks with a cane.

The Goddess is the colour of rich cream and is surrounded by art.

The Goddess is the colour of brick dust and watches over the flocks surrounded by no one.

The Goddess is pink, flushed from a race.

The Goddess is pale and sits alone in the dark.

The Goddess is small and wizened with dark eyes.

The Goddess is round and strong with muscular arms from hard work.

The Goddess is thin and ill and labours to breathe for it is work.

The Goddess stands with arms out blessing her gardens and fields.

The Goddess is dying in her bed surrounded by ones who love her.

The Goddess dies alone on a dirty street ignored with the trash.

The Goddess cries at injustice and pain and abuse.

The Goddess walks strongly on mountain path leading children of all shapes sizes and colours.

The Goddess follows behind and hopes she makes a difference.

The Goddess is in everyone of us.

The Goddess looks like us.

The Goddess is in the mirror.

Listen to her.

©2014 Kat Robb

The 2nd BunniHoTep story

This is the second story also not found anywhere else but the 2nd blog post I ever wrote. This is what I dreamed the next night. BunniHoTep was very hard on my sleep for a long while.

If you know the story of Osiris and set and the dismembering, you know what was in BunniHoTep’s basket so I’m not sure it’s a safe story for children unless you want to do some explaining of the birds and the bees.

BunniHoTep does her job or Why We Use Baskets For Eggs in Spring.

Once upon a time long, long ago in Egypt there lived a small rabbit goddess. She loved Isis and she knew Isis was very sad because a very mean god, Set had hurt the one Isis loved most, Osiris.

Legend says that Osiris was cut up by Set and scattered in 14 pieces around the ancient world but there were really a few extra bits and bobs left over. BunniHoTep decided she would find all the extra pieces left around. She knew those pieces were very important to Isis.

So BunniHoTep went out to search for the missing pieces. She searched the shores of the Nile. She searched in the corners of the big temples. She searched the Valley of the Kings. She searched in the lotus ponds and under the papyri. She searched in all low out of the way places the other gods had missed. She found many dust bunnies but no pieces of Osiris.

BUT she found the last 2 special pieces in a hawk’s nest. She was very brave and made sure Missus Hawk was not at home when she went to look. She was brave but not THAT brave.

She put the pieces in her basket and hopped back to Isis. Isis was SO happy she rewarded BunniHoTep was a very big honor. She said that when BunniHoTep was tired of being on Earth, she would place her in the full moon where everyone would see and remember her forever and this is why there is a rabbit in the moon.

Because BunniHoTep carried the pieces back in her favorite basket all easter bunnies have baskets to carry their eggs in.

The very first BunniHoTep story

This was the very first BunniHoTep story I ever wrote and it’s only been published on anything once, on my very first blog post on March 24, 2005, so as of yesterday I’ve been blogging for 11 years. I started blogging because my brother had brain cancer and was blogging about it on Livejournal and wanted me to be able to follow his journey and he knew I loved to write. What he gave me was a gift beyond measure. After he died in July of that year it gifted me with a group of lovely gay men who had been his friends and shared my grieving. He was only a year and a half younger than me and it was like losing half of myself, he had been my shadow for so long. We shared a room until I was 9, we shared so much and both turned out to be gay. I still love a lot of those wonderful men and am glad they are in my life. Blogging gave me a way to grieve and not burden every one around me. It gave me a wider spiritual community. It broadened my life in so many ways.

So here is the very first BunniHoTep story that I wrote because I dreamed it. She was born at a priestess meeting of TOILA, it was our first meeting for priestess’ and that afternoon Inannamoon and I were going to Ellen Cannon Reed’s memorial so we had her Egyptian book out and there was a hieroglyph of a bunny but no real explanation of the meaning that I now know is the word “to be” but then no one remembered what it was but someone smarted off that it was “BunniHoTep!” and we laughed and went on to something else but that night I started to dream stories about a small brown Egyptian Goddess named BunniHoTep, she was the Goddess of lost objects and the small joys in life. So here she is:

The Tale of the Tail
Once upon a time in a time very long ago there was a very small Egyptian rabbit
goddess. Her name was BunniHoTep. She was a beautiful rabbit with soft,
soft fur and a long bushy tail. She was very vain about this tail. It was a
pretty color and swooshed behind her. It did have a slight problem because
when she hopped it landed in the dirt.

Every day she would groom her tail and if she asked nicely Bast would help
her brush it out so it shined and shined.

BunniHoTep loved to go down to the banks of the Nile and watch the fish
swim by. She could watch for hours and hours. One day while she was
watching the fish a crocodile snuck up behind her and opened his very big
mouth with its very big teeth. BunniHoTep turned around and saw the very,
big, nasty crocodile and gave a big leap away and hopped and hopped for her
life. She heard the jaws go snap as she sped away. She hopped all the way
to Isis and Hathor’s House. (They were sharing a summer Temple that year.)
As she was nearly there realized she was hurting and slowed down and looked
behind her. Her beautiful tail was gone.

BunniHoTep cried and cried, “Oh. it hurts.” she said. Nursing her bunny
hiney. “My lovely, lovely tail is gone.” She cried softly to herself. But
she didn’t cry softly enough and kind Isis and Hathor heard her.

Isis and Hathor picked her up and cradled her and soothed her hurt bunny
behind.

BunniHoTep sobbed to Isis. “What will I do without my tail? It was so soft
and lovely and cushioned me when I landed.”

Hathor thought carefully and knew she had just the thing and went quickly
into the house and came back. She handed Isis an object and said to Isis.
“See if this works.”

Isis it took and laughed and said this will be perfect and she put the soft
thing right where BunniHoTep’s tail used to be. BunnieHoTep looked down
and her behind. There where her lovely long tail had been was one of
Hathor’s powder puffs. It was lovely and soft and white and was much more
practical than a long tale.

And that is why bunnies have fluffy powder puff tales.