Cailleach Beare

In preparation for our first ADF ritual this weekend, I spent yesterday researching the wonderful goddess Cailleach Beare. Thus in the mood of Samhain, here follows a short and not very scholarly article about the crone goddess of Scotland and Ireland.

Her face was blue-black, of the lustre of coal,

And her bone tufted tooth was like rusted bone.

In her head was one deep pool-like eye

Swifter than a star in winter

Upon her head gnarled brushwood

like the clawed old wood of the aspen root.

(from Campbell: The Yellow Muilearteach, in Popular Tales of the West Highlands Vol 3.)

The Cailleach Beare, also called ‘the popular, ‘she of many followers’, was an ancient goddess who, according to one folk tale ‘existed from the long eternity of the world’. She was a creator goddess, who during the making of the world, carried on her back a great basket of rocks and earth. The earth she let spill from her bag became the hills of Northern Scotland, between them she released rivers and formed lochs.

In a conversation about age with Fintan the Wise and the Hawk of Achill she was once asked, ‘are you the one, grandmother, who ate the apples in the beginning?’ She was the mother of giants and grandmother to various tribes of mankind. She had, according to Professor Kuno Meyer, ‘seven periods of youth one after another, so that every man who had lived with her came to die of old age, and her grandsons and great-grandsons were tribes and races’. She is said to have had at least fifty foster children during her lives.

In Scotland, Cailleach Beare was the roaring mother of tempest who brought winter to the land. Called ‘Bringer of the Ice Mountain’, or the great blue Old Woman of the Highlands, she had one eye in her deep blue face, the sight of which was "as swift as the mackerel of the ocean". During winter she and her herds of deer, goats and swine leapt from mountain to mountain, using her long white staff to smite the hills with ice and frost. Another myth gives her the daughter of Grainne, or the winter sun.

It is she who rules the world through winter, from Samhain to Imbolc, when she is overthrown by Brigid. In some myths, she doesn’t relinquish her power until Beltane Eve, when she throws her staff under a holly or gorse bush and turns into a standing stone to await, again, the coming of winter.

One story tells us how she became furious when her son fled from her on a white horse, carrying with him a beautiful bride. She pursued him over mountains but he fled from her nimbly, taking his bride, the spirit of summer, who was terrified of the tempestuous hag behind them. Cailleach brewed storm after storm, to try and separate her son and his lover, and after the last tempest of ice and snow, which brought floods and was intended to destroy all living, her son fought her and sent her fleeing, and thus, “the old winter went past”.

In Ireland she is associated with Kerry and Cork. According to the Book of Lecan (c.1400 ad) she was the goddess of Corcu Duibne people, from the Kerry region. Other sources consider her as 'The Old Woman of Beare', or Bearhaven, county Cork.

She is the goddess of wells and overflowing pools, rivers and lakes. According to one Irish story, she was given the responsibility of guarding the well at the top of Ben Cruachan. Every night she placed a boulder over it, to stop the restless waters from overflowing, but one night she forgot, and the villages beneath the mountain were destroyed in the deluge. Thus the valley became Loch Awe, and the Cailleach, horrified at what she had down, turned into stone.

In Irish legends she is often a goddess of sovereignty. She appears as a terrifying, ugly hag, and if her chosen young man doesn't spurn her she transforms into a beautiful maiden and awards him Kingship over Ireland and Scotland. A version of this story occurs in the tale of the Nine Hostages. Niall, Fergus and their brothers encounter an ugly hag, who instructs them to kiss her. It is Fergus who kisses her on the cheek, and as she transform into a beautiful woman she presents him with sovereignty over Ireland.

The most absorbing of these tales I've read is the Story of the Enchanted Fawn, or the naming of Carn Mail, from the The Metrical Dindshenchas, and quoted in full below. Here four brothers, after slaying their father's enchanted fawn, encounter an old, withered hag who was "hideous, unsightly', an 'obese lustful horror', taller than a mast, with ears 'bigger than a sleeping hut', a nose as long as a ploughshare and each fist bigger than a basket of sheaves. Struck with dreadful horror, the brothers would rather be buried alive than look upon her, but after being told they and their hunting dogs will all be devoured unless one of the brothers agree to sleep with her, Lugaid Laigde offers himself, and she is revealed as the beautiful maiden, 'Kingship of Alba and Erin'. Lugaid, however, isn't as lucky as many, 'nothing more', says the lady, 'will come of our meeting'. It will be his son whom she will sleep with, and he will be prophet, seer and king. Although not specifically identified here as Cailleach Beare, it is certainly a possible appearance of the goddess.

A Christianised poem from the tenth century describes Cailleach Beare as a frail old women, looking back on her life when she was beloved of kings and mourning her old age:

Time was when cloths of every hue
Bedecked my head as we drank good ale.

The Stone of the Kings on Femen,
The Chair of Ronan in Bregon,
Long since storms have reached them:
The slabs of their tombs are old and decayed.

Some elements can still be seen in this poem of the original goddess, for, despite lamenting her old age and proximity of death, ‘I hold no sweet converse’, ‘my hair is all but grey’, she tells us:

The time is at hand that shall renew me.

Below is an extract from The Metrical Dindshenchas.

CARN MÁIL
1. Pleasant is the theme that falls to my care, the lore not of one spot only, while my spirit sheds light eastward on the secret places of the world.
2. How is it that none of you demands, if he seek to weave the web of knowledge, whence came at any time the name of Carn Mail in the eastern Plain of Ulaid?
3. Lugaid Mal, great ruin he wrought, was exiled from Erin: with seven ship-loads sailed the prince from Erin to the land of Alba.
4. He contended for the eastern lands, in combat and conflict, from Brittany to teeming Norway, from the Orkney isles to Spain.
5. When he gained the right of proud kingship, he brought with him the hosts of his array till the harbours of Ulaid were filled with the grim warriors' barques.
6. A challenge comes from Lugaid to the men of Fal demanding battle or tribute, to carry them into battle with him who was to be their overlord.
7. Then down he comes with speed to offer battle, even-matched; a stone for each fighter he brought to battle, with these was built Lugaid's Cairn.
8. There stood Lugaid Mal, on the massy white-sided cairn, till he brake the great and famous fight against the goodly men of Erin.
9. Lugaid received at Less Breg hostages from Gall and Gael: he was the king that reared the round cairn which stands above fair Mag Ulad.
10. Seven sons had comely Daire, Lugaid was the honoured name of each: because of the prophecy—better so! one name served for all.
11. Daire, fiery warrior, owned an enchanted fawn, shaped like a wild deer: four of them loosed their hounds after it, from old Tara north-westward.
12. Swift fled the fawn before them as far as the stream by Sinann: the fawn fell a prey to the four noble striplings.
13. The sons of Daire from Dun na n-Eicess cast lots gleefully, that each might know his share of the enchanted fawn, without quarrel.
14. To Lugaid Corb there fell the carving of the fawn, rough though he was; so from him is named the clan Dal Mess Corb in the region of Cualu.
15. While each was busy with his share, Lugaid Cal fell asleep; so his offspring unsubdued are the Calraige of Connacht.
16. Lugaid [Orc] brought a draught of water; fair he was yet not forspent: so his seed thenceforth is Corco Oirche in the confines of Cashel.
17. Lugaid, Mac Con's great father, all Erin belonged to him alone: so from Lugaid Loeg onwards the clan of Corco Laigde has its name.
18. When the men were in the house sitting over by the fireside, there entered a hag, a loathly offence; she was hideous, unsightly.
19. Taller was she than a mast upright, bigger than a sleeping-hut her ear, blacker than any visage her form, a weight on every heart was the hag.
20. Broader her row of teeth—what portends it?—than a board set with draughtsmen; her nose stood out far before her, it was longer than a ploughshare.
21. Bigger than a basket full of sheaves was each fist of the misnatured woman: bigger than rough-hewn stone in rampart each of her black bony knees.
22. A paunchy belly she bore, I trow, without rib to the armpits: a scabby black crown with a crop of wens, like a furzy hillside, upon her.
23. She set upon them in the strong house where sat the King of Erin's sons; dire the dazzlement she cast upon them from her eyes—alas the deed!
24. A change fell on the nature of the tender youths before that obese lustful horror: sooner than look upon her they had chosen to be buried under earth alive.
25. Their spirit and senses turned, with a throb sorer than stark combat: the sons of Daire gave themselves over to a death of shame.
26. She addressed them with an evil saying: ‘One of you must sleep with me to-night, or I will devour you all, unaided, hound and strong man alike.’
27. When he saw the danger plain, Lugaid Laigde spoke: ‘I will sleep with her—unwelcome task: enough for you to lose me only.’
28. As the firelight fell dim, she changed to another wondrous shape: she took on a radiant form, beyond praise; rosy she grew, round-bosomed.
29. Such were her eyes (they were no tricks of cheating craft)—three shafts of sunlight in each of them: where her glance fell all was bright.
30. Down slid the crimson mantle fair from her breasts untouched by age, till the flesh-worm might be crushed in the room by the light of her lovely body.
31. Then the young man asked her, ‘Fair maiden, whence comest thou? name thy race, tell it now, speak to me, hide it not from me!’
32. ‘I will tell thee, gentle youth; with me sleep the High Kings: I, the tall slender maiden, am the Kingship of Alba and Erin.’
33. ‘To thee have I revealed myself this night, yet nothing more shall come of our meeting: the son thou shalt have, he it is that I shall sleep with—happier fate.’
34. ‘I will tell thee thy son's name, lucky his lot; Lugaid shall his name be and Mac Con thereto: of him therefore I pronounce thus much: he shall be seer and prophet and poet.’
35. Daire uttered a prophecy to them concerning Mac Con unreproached: ‘Mac Con shall win the ringing Hill of Brega, with Erin and pleasant Alba.’

Alchemical Transfigurations (or playing with plants)

So it was back to Treadwells last weekend, for a sparky alchemical adventure, or workshop entitled 'Advanced Herbal Alchemy'. Not being sure if we were quite at the advanced stage of herbal alchemy - in fact not being sure exactly what it was - we crammed all information we could muster about herbs and planetary correspondances on the train up to London. But we needn't have worried. Paul, the lecturer, was very friendly and though assuming background knowledge in herbalism he explained the precise system he was teaching us from the very beginning.

And a fascinating system it was. Again in the basement of the bookshop off Covent Garden, this time complete with mini-stove on which to carry out alchemical processes, we learnt how to reduce plants to their basic, alchemical components and then recombine them into healing essences. The workshop began with the clarification that alchemy was more than the foolish begins of science, that in fact it had contributed, even in the twentieth century, to many significant discoveries that 'science' in the typical sense, missed out on. But then, rather than move on to a discussion of my understanding of 21st century alchemy - a psychological and spiritual process - Paul took the workshop along a different track, the alchemy of plant.

He dismissed the gold/lead question from the very beginning. From his perspective, any alchemist - and he said this with the assumption of their being a still existent species - must begin with plants, and only later, perhaps, can move onto the more advanced and hazy field of metallic alchemy.

The theory of plant alchemy seems pretty clear, at least if I understood it. Any alchemical transformation begins with a break down of the substance into its basic essences, so that it can then be reformed into a purified state. First death, then re-birth. The ancient alchemists believed that the world was made up of three essences: Mercury, Sulphur and Salt. These three essences can be related to the three principles of Spirit, Soul and Body.

To alchemise a plant, then, what you do is break it down into Spirit, Soul and Body. How, exactly? Well, in biological terms, you can relate Mercury (spirit) to alcohol, sulphur (soul) to oil and salt (body) to - well - salt. Because spirit is a universal, you can add any near pure alcohol to your herbal mixture. Then you simply have to extract the oil and the salt, a process which involves at least three months careful and patient work, ideally with a clay furnace, in practise, a barbeque could do. At the end, if you're successful, you end up with a potent and clear liquid that can be used as an infusion in tea or a glass of water. The effect it has is related to the planet to which that herb corresponds. We were working with star anise, which is a herb of Jupiter, and thus the benefits of the final product are related to Jupiter's qualities - Prosperity, Wealth, Honour, Strength etc. This was the only bit I felt lacked clarity - surely the effects of an individual herb are far more specific than their general planetary correspondances? (But perhaps if I'd been to a basic herbal workshop first I would have been more clear on this point!)

What was great about the workshop was that we were told on a clear and practical level how to carry it out at home, (in Paul's words, Kitchen Alchemy) and then we got to do it ourselves. Paul produced a dark jar of vodka steeped star anise, which we crushed and then burnt in a saucepan to fill the basement with a wonderfully thick and pungent smoke. At the end of the workshop we had a glass of thick, earthy liquid, which was added to a glass of water and then passed around to sip. We also added some to bottles of water and took them home with us. Eurik and I proudly bought our bottle of Jupiter-water back to Ditchling and offered it to the family with the promise of enhanced prosperity.

I'm not entirely convinced that wealth will fall out of the sky now we've finished off our bottle of star anise water. But this was a weak infusion made as a demonstration in a workshop. While I have a natural tendency to be sceptical about these things, the very time and care that must be given to one of these herbal preparations, the hours spent taking care of the calcinating plant under the embers, like a bird hatching her eggs, necessitates a deep personal involvement with the process; in fact mediation on each stage of the process is a natural and expected part.
Later in the process, if you have the equipment necessary, you can distill your product, referred to in alchemical terminology as 'letting seven eagles fly'. This (I think) is the plant essence reaching to heaven and then returning back down to earth, cyclically, until it reaches an enhanced stage of purification. It is here that you meditate on your wish reaching from the heavens to the earth, becoming a part of both planes.

Ideally, you take at least three months to produce even a small vial of liquid. It's the very opposite of 'instant cure', not just because it takes time, but because it's something you are spiritually involved in the creation of, not something you buy over the counter. This is one of the things I love about alchemy, the interweaving of down to earth scientific processes with spiritual work. And it was a real pleasure to see a practical demonstration of how it can, in fact, in 2007, be done.

A British Pagan’s Adventures in…Britain

Well, now we are back in England for six weeks. It’s very green here, and there are plenty more cows than I am used to.

Being back, I am taking the opportunity to explore the British Pagan community, and in case anyone out there is interested, to write about it. And so yesterday I dived right into the fray with an interview at Treadwell’s Bookshop of Peter Nash, an Alexandrian Wiccan who was initiated by Alex Sanders.

Treadwell’s bookshop is hidden in a winding street just behind Covent Garden. It looks exactly the way an esoteric bookshop should, a long space with odd corners, sloping ceilings and stacked shelves of books, dusty, leatherbound and shiny, from contemporary Wicca to chaos magic to myth and folklore to alchemy :-). And lots of glass bottles and pendants and branching wands. The shop could conceivably have existed since eighteenth century London. (It was in fact opened about three years ago, but that’s not the point). I appreciated the fact that alongside all of the esoteric books they had many dusty literary classics, which enhanced the whole atmosphere of something serious and academic going on.

The interview was down a winding staircase and into the packed cellar. Peter Nash is a very soft-spoken Welshman. My first impression was of someone nervous and pale, but this faded as he answered all the questions put to him honestly, and directly. The interviewer/bookshop owner began by getting significantly on nerves – when Nash began to talk about his childhood, she interrupted him – ‘no, move on, to Alex, we want to hear about Alex!’ Un-phased, Nash continued firmly on with his own story.

He described to us how he came to Wicca. Nash was born in a seaside town in Wales and had throughout his childhood an enhanced psychic ability, seeing floating bubbles of colour and, one memorable night, a tiny man with a fedora hat at the foot of his bed, who left him quaking under his sheets until dawn. During an encounter with a Spiritualist psychic, later in life, he was told ‘the man with the fedora says sorry for scaring you.’

He described a teenage move through Eastern religions, and then a discovery of Gardner’s ‘Witchcraft Today’ and Sander’s ‘King of the Witches’ in his parent’s second hand bookshop. Gardner being already dead, there followed a two year hunt for Alex Sanders. When finally he discovered him, Sanders invited Nash down to Bexhill on Sea for a weeks stay ending with initiation. Apparently the concept of a year and a day isn’t something Alex Sanders paid much attention to.

The interviewer asked him what he considered to be the difference between Gardnerian and Alexandrian systems; Nash suggested that it was Alex Sanders who modernised Wicca, taking Gardner’s concepts and combining them with the Qaballah, Rosicrucian initiation rituals and more from the Golden Dawn. He described Sanders system as a complete mish-mash of different concepts, paths and theories, but a system that was also demanding and effective. He was also asked the question of whether Sanders was genuine, or a fraud, and his answer, somewhat surprisingly, was ambiguous. Nash didn’t give much credence to Sanders’ claims of being initiated by his grandmother, following a line of traditional witches. A lot of what he said, according to Nash, was simply made up. However, there was no doubt that Sanders was also a genuine and powerful psychic. In a wine glass in a pub, apparently, he was able to read the future for Nash. Yet while respectful to both, Nash described Gardner and Sanders as ‘deeply flawed men’, and noted with some surprise the fact that these two could have essentially ‘begun’ Wicca as it’s practised today.

When asked where he thought the Craft was going now, Nash’s answer was that it’s at a crossroads. Perhaps unsurprising from an Alexandrian, he bewailed the lack of training many modern Wiccans experience, the number of fraudulent people out there, the fact that, even if you do join a coven, it’s often a question of doing what the high priestess says for a year rather than receiving any real training. He wanted more local moots, more festivals, and more integrated activity. On the other hand, he had nothing negative to say about people who practise without a group, and argued that being solitary can be both a conscious choice and a stage that many Pagans go through on their way to, and on their way from, practising with other people.

My impression of the interviewer/bookshop owner improved rapidly after the talk, as she took everyone upstairs for wine and nibbles, and made sure, from a firm friendliness, that we all knew each other and there were no lost new faces, a relief to me, who had been standing self-consciously in the corner by the jewelled staff and key-rings, hiding in a dusty book about the holy grail and wishing that I knew at least somebody. Considering Vicky and Nic’s descriptions of unfriendly, cliquey moots in Oxford and York, I was expecting something a lot less welcoming. Soon I was chatting merrily to a very interesting and eccentric group of people, ranging in age from eighteen to eighty. I had an interesting discussion over the question of psychic ability. This is where Nash begun his story, but as one woman put to me, if you’re about as psychic as a brick, does this disadvantage you from really developing as a witch? As someone who’s never ever seen any floating bubbles or tiny men with fedoras I consider this a good question.

Proving that Pagans do have a sense of humour, I met a lovely actress who told me about a film she’d just been in that had been partly filmed in Treadwells, Return to Ravenswood. It’s about the clash between a group of Yorkshire villagers and a group of new-age mystics who descend on the villagers, claiming that aliens will arrive there at the summer solstice. The villagers want to exorcise them, the mystics want to party. The film parodies both groups, focusing on a new age bookshop owner named Amber Chakra who is in direct contact with the aliens, and a high priestess who lives in the Yorkshire forest and tells those who meet her that she cannot stand society – that she needs to be alone with the woods in order to grow and flourish – apart from naturally when she collects her unemployment benefits. :-D It sounds great, I will be looking out for it.

I left the bookshop clutching a long list of Treadwells talk’s on over the summer and having met a number of very interesting people. More adventures to follow….