Round the Herne

When the router died, I spent a bit of time adding more to this story. It's never going to go anywhere (from a publishing perspective), but it's providing a relaxing diversion for me to write.  CHAPTER 1 is  here CHAPTER 2 is  here   CHAPTER 3 is  here   CHAPTER 4 is here (if you haven't already read them) CHAPTER 5   As the induction class drew to a close, Catriona glanced round to see the other members of the group looked as stunned and bewildered as she felt. A rueful smiled played on the Principal’s lips as his kindly blue eyes took them all in. it was doubtless far from the first time that he had turned people’s worlds upside down. A painfully thin lad with a prominent Adam’s apple and bad acne set further along the bench, staring at the copious pile of notes he had taken and looking as if he might cry. The light from the three large stained glass windows cast hypnotic patterns across them all. The Otherworld, which she had always taken as ...

 This is a recording made today or a story that I told along with other members of Clan Ogma (druid group that also does annual storytelling) at the Leaping Hare pagan convention in Colchester. Hard to credit, I know, but the accents were even less convincing at the live performance than they are in this recording. Judging from the feedback for the convention, everyone seems to have had a good day and are all looking forward to next year's event.

Continuing the whimsy to a third chapter of this serialised (and outrageously derivative) YA fantasy, I am quite enjoying this even if nobody else is, so might go to at least a fourth chapter if I can settle on a name for the villain of the piece. CHAPTER 1 is here CHAPTER 2 is here  (if you haven't already read them) CHAPTER 3   Catriona sat at the long wooden table in the Refectory staring at the empty plate and wishing that her head would stop spinning. She didn’t think that she’d ever has to get used to so many shocks in a single day. She had screamed hysterically at the sight of Kai transforming into a dog, only stopping when he sauntered across and licked her face. After that the screaming had turned into equally hysterical giggling. Eventually Dylan explained that everyone is Kai’s family was capable of transforming into dogs. Whilst not common, he outlined how a fair number of people who lived within the Veil were able to shapeshift. The stories of selkies, werew...

 Continuing the whimsy to a second chapter of this serialised (and shamelessly derivative) YA fantasy, I might go a third chapter, not sure whether to continue it beyond that. It gives me something more creative to do of an evening than just watch drivel on TV. CHAPTER 2   The bell started to toll as they exited the lift, Catriona still wondering what the Veil was and if she would look foolish by asking. By the third and final stroke Morwenna had shepherded them across to a stairway that wound down into the cellars beneath the Tower. Catriona’s momentary panic about her luggage was assuaged with the promise that the Porter would ferry everything off to the Halls of Residence. The others seemed quite blasé about not having seen the Halls and were confident that everything would be in place for them. Catriona’s past experience of educational administration had not left her as trusting, but she kept her fingers crossed and was swept along on the flight down to the Great Hall....

This is just a bit of whimsy to give my three remaining brain cells a bit of exercise (been under the weather lately and lacking creativity). I like the idea of a serialised story, so here is the first entry in a highly derivative YA fantasy, praise be to St Plagiarus. Not sure how much further, or how regularly, I will continue this but at least it has kickstarted the grey matter once again. CHAPTER 1    Catriona stood before the stone doorway, her fingers traced the triquetra carved into the ancient wooden door. It looked early medieval, ancient in a city where every other building seemed steeped in centuries. The carved symbol matched that on the letterhead that she had received back in March inviting her to study Celtic History at Gorsedd College, Cambridge. Catriona had applied to study in Cambridge, but at Peterhouse not at this college. She hadn’t even heard of Gorsedd College much less applied to it, but the offer was excellent and especially sweet with the bursary...

 I dreamt up this story for the Invocations concert held in Bungay a couple of months back, where I was acting as MC and sharing stories and poetry in between acts. This was my final tale of the night. It is inspired by Suffolk folklore, including the story of the village of Woolpit (which derives its name from wolf-pit, nothing to do with sheep). The music and graphics were arranged by my friend, the Australian Pixie, using Canva (which is way beyond my technical capacities).

 A reflection on Jung's notions around the Dark Mother archetype and the ideas added by those who came after him (such as Marie-Louise von France, Dorothy Bloch, and Daniella Sieff). This is chiefly for the Suffolk Jungian Circle, who are discussing the topic at the end of the month, but it may well also interest a wider audience.

 Recorded this spiel partially in response to a question asked about the Suffolk Jungian Circle recording on alchemy and partly because of various other things going on. Greek mythology has two related concepts for stories (or subsections of larger stories) of katabasis and anabasis - respectively the journey into the Underworld and the return to the land of the living. This is paralleled in the Christian tradition by notions of the Harrowing of Hell, in both versions a key feature is that the traveller is going into the Dark Place in order to retrieve something - a lost loved one, a treasure of some sort etc. As the recording hopefully emphasises, there are lots of different ways to understand what the Dark Place is and the nature of the voluntary journey there. A lot of people end up in Dark Places, but they rarely go there willingly so it is debatable whether the notion of katabasis applies to all such terrible experiences or only to ones of a voluntary nature (and ones with an ...

 Not what the title may lead you to expect, but some poems - some of which I shared at the Wolfshead Pagan camp this weekend past and others which I would have shared had we not all nearly died of heatstroke from the excessive weather! The two of my mine are 'Song of the Wolf Clan' and 'Sigyn's Burden' from the Moon Poets anthology (edited by Trevor Greenfield) whilst the two by Hilary Llewellyn-Williams are 'The Song of Blodeuwedd on May Morning' and 'Muin' from her collection Hummadruz. Finally, the poem by Cathal O' Searcaigh is 'Hound of Ulster' from his collection Homecoming.

 Finally got round to continuing with the series of recordings about the Irish ogham alphabet, now up to the ninth letter Coll (which means 'hazel tree').

 Yesterday our druid group performed the story of Cael and Credhe at the Leaping Hare pagan convention in Colchester, which went down quite well with the audience. The tale is a tragic one of doomed love. My own interpretation is that Cedhe is an embodiment of the Land - whether she is understood as a goddess or a fairy or something else entirely is a separate issue. The marital contingency that her suitor recites the list of her many treasures strikes me as being less about materialism and more that the lucky man should know the many gifts of the earth.

  My reading of several poems inspired by Paganism that were (mostly - some were kept as additional ones in case the turn out had been low and time needed to be filled) read out at an Interfaith event yesterday. Poems are by Hilary Llewellyn-Williams, Oscar Wilde, Percy Shelley, Tom Hirons, and myself. Not only was there sharing of poetry and song between the people present, but much discussion about ideas revealed in those poems - it was a nice afternoon and a good way to inspire some creative discussions and build bridges.

 This is my reading of W B Yeats' epic poem "The Wanderings of Oisin". I uploaded a prose storytelling version of this myth a while back. Yeats' poem is a dialogue between Patrick (not yet a saint) and the ancient Irish hero Oisin who has returned from centuries spent in Tir na nOg, an Otherworldly realm, with his beloved fairy-wife Niamh. The myth ends with the old man dying, bewildered by the changes in life and religion that he has seen in Ireland. I would have posted this yesterday, but minutes after I finished recording it, I heard the news about the death of the Queen - and it seemed a little inappropriate to put up a poem about a dying man and a lost era on the same day as the second Elizabethan Age came to an end.

 This was recorded back in February as a practice for a group storytelling at the Leaping Hare convention in late March. Meant to upload it weeks ago, but forgot. It is based on the tale of how Fionn's son, Oisin, is drawn to Tir na nOg, Land of the Ever Young, for love of  a mysterious woman and how he finds the world much changed upon his return. The encounter with Bishop Patrick is much as it is in the original version, though told with a definite sympathy to the pagan viewpoint. 

 As some readers will already know my dear old dog Cafall passed away Tuesday earlier this week after a godawful visit to the vet. He was very old and doddery, but has left a huge gap. Considering how much of the last couple of years he spent asleep, the silence is pronounced and difficult to live with. He was named after King Arthur's dog from Welsh legend. So as a memorial to him, I have recorded a shortened version of the account of how seven monstrous wild boars laid waste first to Ireland and then to Wales, causing a variety of significant landscape features, before being dispatched by the warriors and war dogs of Arthur. Some authorities regard this as a metaphor for a brutal warband that came over from Ireland and caused mayhem, whilst others think this is a more mystical tale reflecting an ancient tradition about the hunting of a sacred boar. The paw print stone was observable in the Victorian era when Lady Guest sketched it - though I am not sure if it is still around toda...

 Here are the video links to Leaping Hare 2021, which is virtual due to the pandemic. The initial video should automatically lead to the next recording, but in case there are any gremlins I have included the rest of the URLs below. “Introduction” - https://youtu.be/7sY2Hi6mSWA “Altered States” talk by Jo van der Hoeven - https://youtu.be/D7-SLafLIdA “Wolf Song” music by Carys - https://youtu.be/_DKslE4Z_uQ “Too Jung to Die” talk by Robin Herne - https://youtu.be/OacH-dS4DQk “Gods Just Wanna Have Fun” talk by Nick Ford - https://youtu.be/r3qEmwRTPQ4 “Pathways to Initiation” talk by Johnathan Boddam-Whetham - https://youtu.be/jJDNap8cqOI “The Dagda’s Harp” storytelling with Clan Ogma - https://youtu.be/XaNzUY40CIc “Thanks and Farewell” - https://youtu.be/JaB3CwfgFus   Please make a donation to one or more of our good causes: Hedgehog Havens - http://www.hedgehoghavenessex.co.uk/pages/ East Anglian Children's Hospice - https://www.each.org.uk/ Colchest...

 It's World Book Day so I have plucked some books off the shelves to share a few stories and a poem with you. In order of appearance they are: "King of Lies" from an anthology called Children of the Salmon, by Eileen O'Faolain (a collection of Irish legends and folk tales. "River God", a poem by Stevie Smith in the Penguin Poetry collection. "The Widow's Son" from an anthology called Twenty Folk and Fairy Tales from East to West, collated by Charles Folkard (this one would give a Jungian a field day in analysing its symbolism, and probably give a feminist apoplexy). The story is originally Greek, though the setting  does not make this obvious. "The Tale of the Parasite", from The Book of the Thousand Nights and One - the stories of Shahrazad. This version is translated by Powys Mathers from an earlier version by J C Mardrus.

 It's St David's day, so here is a short tale about another saint with Welsh connections. Collen was a warrior-monk who served as abbot of Glastonbury for some years before getting tired of it and seeking the solace of hermitage in a cavern partway up the Tor. This did not last long as he had failed to ask permission of Gwynn app Nudd who held court at the top of the famous mound. It all came to a head and Collen decided that Glastonbury was no longer for him. This story picks up from that juncture, where God guides the hermit to find a new sanctuary after a long pilgrimage on foot and then by horse. The meandering equine takes him to Bwlch Rhiwfelen, which would eventually be renamed after its new resident at Llangollen, not far from Wrexham. All would have been fine had Collen learned his lesson and actually asked permission of the resident Presence - in this case a carnivorous giantess, Cares (which translates as Dear One, an unusual epithet for so frightening a being - thou...

 Today is February 15th which, in the Ancient Roman calendar, was the festival of Lupercalia on which the wolf deities were honoured. This story is Irish rather than Roman, but gives due honour to the power of lupines. Irish texts differ a little as to the names of characters, but the key points in the story have consistence - the queen has a prophetic dream about her descendants, the king dies at the hands of the treacherous Lugaid MacConn, and his wife flees for her life only to give birth and for the infant to be raised by wolves. In this respect there is an echo to the Roman myth that forms the core of Lupercalia, which also relates to wolves rearing lost human infants.  This could be regarded as a totemic story in which the people of Cormac become associated with wolves - perhaps an older understanding of the story would have seen them as having a long-term association with lupines.

 An anonymous poem written originally in Old Irish, which was in circulation between 600 and 900 CE is dedicated to Saint Brigit and extols her various titles and the virtues they represent. That this is a Christian saint is indicated via the line that refers to her as Daughter of Dubhtach, the father of the future abbess of Kildare as mentioned in her hagiography. The other lines of the poem could as easily be about the goddess Brigid to whom the imagery of the saint is so closely related. it may well be that audiences hearing this poem at its inaugural reading might have struggled to distinguish one from the other - and in some cases not even regarded there as being much difference. The theological demarcations of today were not necessarily seen as all that important well over a millennia ago. Even the clearly Christian references to her as being the Heaven-King's sister and having reached Holy Heaven could be seen as remembrances of pagan Brigid as sibling to divine figures such...