Round the Herne

Last weekend the druid group I belong to went on a holiday trip down to Wiltshire to visit Stonehenge and Avebury (and yes, we do know they both massively predate any mention of the druids, but they're an amazing feet of human achievement). The weather was pretty dire, but we had a good time and it was nice to be with other people. It gets a bit dull living alone, and it's nice to have company! Inset is a story about standing stones. I first heard this tale in relation to the stones of Carnac, but I have seen near identical versions told of stones from around Britain and elsewhere. The two notions that animals gain the power of human speech (or maybe just that humans become capable of understanding their native languages) and that menhirs get to drink water once per year seem to be very widespread. Maybe the thought of stones drinking is mostly just whimsy, but I think the element of Dr Doolittle speaks to a very deep need to be able to communicate with the species that we ...

Apparently today is National Dog Day in Britain (which was news to me - who sets these things?) So, as a dog-lover myself, I thought I would celebrate with a tale showing canine devotion to humanity.

In previous years we have held Pooka's Pageant (a celebration of polytheism through the performing arts) in August. Due to an excess of events in that month, this year we have transferred it to November 7th - still in it's usual Ipswich venue. I am currently scouting for polytheist storytellers, poets, singers, puppeteers, or other performers who want to celebrate the Old Gods and spirits through their performances. Each year we try to get a good mix of cultures ~ previous years have included Irish, Welsh, Greek, Germanic, Scandinavian, African, Arabic, Native American, Chinese, Indian, and Inuit tales. If you are a polytheist performer (or know someone who is) within easy travelling distance of Ipswich, do get in touch via robinherne@hotmail.com

On July 25th the local druids will be hosting a day of talks, discussions, storytelling, demonstrations etc. celebrating Celtic mythology and both ancient and modern druidry. I will be both talking (about Insular Cetic deities and ogam) and storytelling. The setting is a beautiful 15th century pub, the White Horse at Finningham, a few miles from Stowmarket. If anyone needs collecting from the train station, this can be arranged - provided you give advance notice! Details of ticket prices etc. can be found here - http://www.ipswichpagancouncil.com/dancingwiththedagda.htm

Driftwood Sea air heals, fills lungs ozone rich and fresh with hope So profound it pulls me far from this place in search. Solace sought on this lonely shore as waves sand stroke Ancient beats, such symphony as was heard in Greece – Far Poseidon melodies sang for wading youths. Brine swirls, soaking calves, ease brought as old bones flex strength, Time once ice-stiff melts away in warm ocean tides Age-old fears dissipate – reflected, weakened, solved. Deep dreamtides ebb and flow, sea currents raise lost needs. He moves, easeful on green-grey rips, swims to surface. Proteus dries in the breeze, warming on boulders, beached We eye each other, gaze sidelong as Apollo Holds two souls in his gold aegis. Chance before me, Too late I turn, but bare stone shelf is bleak display: The bold seal herder dives, he is gone, my mistake. Day slowly drags, sun fades along with my scant hopes. Heat fails to touch ash future, sadness drowns all gains, H...

Today was the sixth annual Eisteddfod in Suffolk, and the first one that I have not actually organised. Instead, this year Fiona Dowson organised it and I took part as a contestant. There were five storytellers and as many poets. The theme set for the stories was "goddesses", and the other tales told were an account of Macha's foot race, a legend told of Erzulie-Freda and one of her rather misguided lovers, the sage of Ceridwen and Gwion Bach (which one the contest), and the story of Perseus and his mother Danae. My own contribution was the story of Sekhmet, a near-identical version of which I have recorded from the comfort of my own sofa.

This tale will be revised in due course, as I'm not entirely happy with it. However, I wanted to post it in time for the solstice. The photograph was taken at 4.30am June 21st 2015, and shows sunrise on Dunwich beach in Suffolk. The creature emerged from the very tree itself, gaunt and bone-bleached. The moonlight pooled around the patch of ferns in the centre of the glade, but extended no further. Yet still the man-shaped thing was clearly visible, seeming to radiate its own luminescence. Nathan’s heart thundered with alarm as the entity moved slowly and stiffly towards them, as if it had almost forgotten how to walk. The merchant glanced at his son, who seemed transfixed by the spectre. The grandfather of the Turnkey clan sat on the back of the cart, too short-sighted to notice what was happening but shivering in the pre-dawn cold despite the thick blanket wrapped around his thin shoulders. The distant bells of the church struck the midnight hour and the ferns se...