The Cailleach, finally

It’s snowing as I sit typing this, here in Columbus. This would normally be a fairly uninteresting opening most years: it’s February in Ohio, after all. But this has been a very warm winter for us. That’s true for much of the country, of course, and for the globe, but I’m feeling it especially poignantly right now, since the winter storms that have blanketed friends in the upper Midwest, the Northeast — even the northern half of our own state — have encountered an unmoving bubble of warmth in Central Ohio, and at best only rained.

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On ritual, responsibility, and consecration

It’s been quiet around these parts for a good while, but it’s not for a lack of activity in my real life. Rather the opposite: I’ve been buried under a pile of responsibilities and activities both secular and religious, and writing that has no clear deadline or penalty (read: this blog) has gotten put to the wayside. Of course, there is in fact a penalty: I begin to feel like I have a well bottled up in me, and as if I’m betraying promises I made to the gods when I first started this site. And so, segue, I’m here to write about running ritual and the difficult but worthwhile responsibility it brings, centered around my first time running a ritual at this past Winter Solstice.

A month of prayers: week 3

When I buckle down and hammer out headnotes, I get things out more timely; thus, week 3, barely a week and a half overdue!

Reaching the end of my wintry rope

As a druid, I attach a good deal of importance to my attitude toward the seasons. If we are to view life and the natural world as a set of interlocking cycles, ever-repeating, then it behooves us to approach each part of our planet’s orbit with respect at the very least. I hope to eventually reach a state of spiritual development where I can greet each season with unabashed welcome, but at the moment I have lower aims: I’d settle for equanimity. This past weekend, however, I reached the end of my winter rope, and the subsequent days haven’t improved my mood.

Greeting the Cailleach

And suddenly, winter. I’d seen the forecast (lows in the 20s, 3-5 inches of snow), but I was still not quite prepared to open the curtains Monday morning and see a field of white glowing dimly in the dawn light. I’m excited to greet the coming winter season, but I didn’t think I’d be doing it just yet.