Myrrh. Image public domain via Wikipedia.
Today is Epiphany; not Epithany, as the Daily Mail would insist (I’m not linking to their error as I don’t like to give them clicks!). It’s Twelfth Night, a Christian celebration of the wise men, magi or kings bringing their gifts to Jesus.
They didn’t gather around the manger as we often see in our children’s nativity plays, in fact Jesus was mostly likely two years old by the time these guys got here. There may have been three of them, but there could easily have been twelve, or more, or less. There is a general consensus that gifts were brought: the famous gold, frankincense and myrrh.
The symbolism of these gifts transcends specific religion. Gold is earthly goods, wealth and a sign of royalty; the perfect gift for the king of heaven on earth. Frankincense is used in many traditions as a purification incense, for cleansing and banishing negativity. It can be seen as a symbol of godliness and spiritual connection. Finally, the myrrh was both a medicine and a perfume; something rich and unusual, with numerous associations. The ancient Egyptians used the resin in embalming, so it could be argued that it is linked with the dead, completing a triad of symbols reflecting life’s journey: Earthly life, spiritual connection and death. However in the Middle East at the alleged time of Jesus’ birth, myrrh was used to anoint kings and high priests, so it is more likely that the myrrh was sent as an indication of the Magi’s knowledge of the youngster’s identity.
In the modern world, for Christians and more, Epiphany is the end of the festive season. Bam! It’s over people, back to work, take the decorations down and shove the tree back in the attic. It seems sad that even as Jesus was receiving precious metals, we are hiding our own shinies away. Still, there is the superstitious threat of bad luck should you fail to clear the Christmas clutter away, and that is more than enough for most people. Who wants to risk misfortune for the entirety of 2017? Much easier to take down the tinsel, even if we don’t really understand why we are doing it.
I’m not even going to rebel. I’m going to take my decorations down, but that’s because of my own little epiphany: I’m already getting ready for Imbolc. With presents still left to deliver to those friends and family I didn’t get to catch up with over the holidays, I am already planning ‘get-togethers’ around the start of February. I’m already delighting in the anticipation of snowdrops, and thinking of reviving the old Imbolc Chilli Cook Off, which was a standard at my old mentor’s house.
It’s great having a seasonal festival calendar, because putting the Christmas tree away just means your looking forward to the trees outside starting to bud. Boxing the baubles is making space for Brighid’s offerings. I’m taking down the beautifully written cards, but thinking of new words to share with my loved ones as spring takes its first, gasping breaths. It’s not here yet, nowhere near, but I can feel the tingle on the horizon of time. And I’m excited. That’s my epiphany. May you enjoy yours.
Read my thoughts on 2016 and stepping into the future at the Moon Books Blog.
At 10.44 tomorrow morning (UT) it will be the Winter Solstice. The moment when as a planet, we appear to pause and take a breath before moving back towards longer days and the promise of spring. It’s been a tough year, there’s no getting away from it. And the dark will still outweigh the light right up until the Spring Equinox. So grab hold of what you hold dear and pull it close. Make sure you verbalise your gratitude for that which makes you ‘you’. Embrace solitude. Embrace company. Toast the sunrise on the shortest day, and know that I will be raising a glass with you. Sláinte!
So it’s that special, magical time when I’m awake at 2am. Ah, that good old full moon energy. It’s been a crazy week, in a crazy month, in a full on lunatic (pardon the pun) year. I know I’m not the only one who has felt it. By a long stretch.
The Cold Moon sounds chilling and forbidding, but it’s also reminding us to rest, to recuperate; to take stock of what we have got and bring it close around us. The term Cold Moon is generally thought of as a Native American moniker, although different tribes also called it the Moon of Hard Times, or the Moon of the Dark Night, because of course we are approaching the solstice.
In Britain we often refer to December’s full moon as the Oak Moon, which is possibly a throw back to the Celtic reverence for the Oak, and it’s symbolism of strength and steadfastness, which may be required to take on the coldest of the winter months.
The oak tree also reminds us of family (of blood and choice); though the branches may be spread wide indeed, the trunk remains rooted in the same earth.
May your hearth fires be warm this winter, gathering those you love, and may your festivities be as bright as the beautiful, cold, super December Full Moon.
The new edition of Pagan Pages is now up and live, in beautiful, glorious technicolour! I am pleased to have four articles in this edition, including Notes from the Apothecary which is all about the Dragon Tree, plus an interview with the fantastic author Nikki Starcat Shields.
View the magazine here.
My article this month on Pagan Pages comes from an older blog I did about trying to meditate, when your mind and body are wracked with anxiety. Chronic in my case, but reactive can be just as destructive.
Read the full blog here.
I will be doing a video talk online for the Pagan Federation Disabilities Team closer to the Winter Solstice, about suffering with anxiety and depression yet trying to maintain a magical connection. Further details to follow. I hope to see you there.
Sharing again for Samhain, this is a good, spooky tale! Enjoy, and may your hearths and hearts be warm.
In the days of chilling blaze
Springtime sun as winter fades
Dazzling spears and green grass blades
The gale the only blight.
Driving out to picnics gay
February turning into May
Hearts and smiles throughout the day
But the wind came at night
Batten hatch and throw the catch
Draw the curtains and the latch
Find the candle; light a match
Glow ghostly and white.
Lights to ward off what’s outside
Whatever feral monsters ride
Abroad; their entrance is denied
Though the wind comes at night.
I saw a face outside my place
Swiftly passed, as in a race
I blinked and there was not a trace
I shivered with the fright.
I ran upstairs to check again
Peering through the glass in vain
The window howled as if in pain
From the wind in the night.
Clutch the blade and don’t be swayed.
Seek the spirit! Seek the shade!
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This is a small part of my sacred indoor space. This particular section is dedicated to the Morrigan, and at times Badb, Macha and Nemain. Sometimes they come together; sometimes they are one; sometimes they are separate beings.
The skull reminds me of my own mortality, but also of our interconnectednesss with all other life. The Morrigan was closely associated with cattle, so I hope she forgives this sheep skull, which doesn’t speak too loudly to her own tales. It does, however, remind me of how close she is to death, and her ability to transform into one animal then another, and never to take any living thing for granted because of this.
The crow is her bird. It is Badb, flying across the battlefield. It is Nemain, shrieking until warriors fall dead. It is mystery, magic, and intelligence mixed with mischief.
The ribbons are the colours that I most closely associate with Irish Celtic magic; red for blood, the visceral, and the sign of magic about to happen. Black for boundaries and liminality. White for creatures from the underworld. These ribbons are entwined with green, and form a success charm that my parents made for me.
Please feel free to ask questions!