Spring Equinox is the mid-point of the Waxing Year, the nights and
days are balanced. Western culture proclaims it the first day
of Spring. The spark of light that was born at Winter Solstice
has reached maturity, and from this point forward, the days
grow longer than the nights.

This is the time that is often seen as the time of Kore’s return
from the Underworld, where She (as Persephone) has ruled throughout
the Winter.

Older traditions called it Ostara, as it was the time of the festivals
of the Grecian Goddess, Eostre, and the Germanic Ostara, both
fertility Goddesses of Dawn. (It is from these goddesses that
the modern Easter holiday takes its name) as the Earth bursts
forth with new greenery from sleeping seeds. Metaphorically
we too plant our own seeds at this time, seeds of our future
goals and future projects.

Decorated eggs have always been symbols of fertility. In Europe in the
past, gifts of decorated eggs were given to new brides, in hopes
they would bear many children or bowls full of eggs were given
to the field-workers by the farmer’s wife, to insure a
rich harvest.

Many cultures see the egg as a symbol of Life, or the actual home
of the soul. The egg is the symbol of all good fortune in Russia
and decorated eggs are still given as gifts to loved ones and
buried in graves to insure rebirth.

White – Purity
Yellow – Wisdom, a successful Harvest, or Spirituality
Green – Spring, rebirth, wealth,
youth, growth, happiness
Blue – Good health, clear skies

Orange – Power, endurance, ambition

Red – Happiness, hope, passion,
nobility, bravery, enthusiasm, love
Brown – Enrichment, good harvest, happiness
Purple – Faith, trust, power
Pink – Success
Black – Remembrance

In the Ukraine each color applied to the decorated eggs had
meaning to villagers. Decorating these eggs, called Pysansky,
was a women’s ritual. Eggs, given as gifts, conveyed particular
wishes. Meanings varied from village to village, but to the
left are some examples.

The eggs were gathered only from hens who lived near a rooster,
as a non-fertile egg meant there would be no fertility in the
home. No one was allowed to watch the women work as they transferred
the goodness of the household to the designs on the eggs and
thus kept evil away. Secret family recipes were use for mixing
the dyes and the women placed special blessings on each egg.

The Spring Equinox defines the season where Spring reaches its apex,
with the powers of light on the ascendancy. The god of light
now wins a victory over his twin, the god of darkness. In the
Welsh Mabinogion, this is the day on which the restored Llew
takes his vengeance on Goronwy by piercing him with the sunlight
spear. For Llew was restored/reborn at the Winter Solstice and
is now well/old enough to vanquish his rival/twin and mate with
his lover/mother. And the great Mother Goddess, who has returned
to her Virgin aspect at Candlemas, welcomes the young sun god’s
embraces and conceives a child. The child will be born nine
months from now, at the next Winter Solstice. And so the cycle
closes only to begin anew.

SOUTH SLAVONIAN AND OTHER GYPSY WITCH-LORE

There is current in the whole of the Southern Slavonian provinces
a vast mass of legends and other lore relating to witches, which,
in the opinion of Dr. FRIEDRICH S. KRAUSS, may also be regarded
as Romany, since it is held in common with the gypsies. There
can, indeed, be very little doubt that most of it was derived
from, or disseminated by, them, since they have been the principal
masters in magic and doctors in medicine in the Slavonic lands
for many centuries. There are others deeply learned in this
subject who share the same opinion, it being certain that the
gypsies could hardly have a separate lore for themselves and
one for magic practices on others, and I entertain no doubt
that they are substantially the same; but to avoid possible
error and confusion, I give what I have taken in this kind from
Dr. KRAUSS and others by itself.

THE WORDS FOR A WITCH

As the English word witch, Anglo-Saxon Wicca, comes from a root
implying wisdom, so the pure Slavonian word vjestica, Bulgarian,
vjescirica (masculine, viestae), meant originally the one knowing
or well informed, and it has preserved the same power in allied
languages, as Veaa (New Slovenish), knowledge, Vedavica, a fortune-teller
by cards, Viedma (Russian), a witch, and Vedwin, fatidicus.
In many places, especially in Dalmatia, witches are more gently
or less plainly called Krstaca, the crossed, from Krst, a cross,
i.e., ???st?? {Greek xristós}, or Rogulja, “horned,”
derived from association with the horns of devils.

In Croatia the Italian Strega is used, while among the Slovenes
and Kai-Kroats the term copernica (masculine, coprnjak). “But
it enrages the witches so much to be called by this word that
when they hear that any one has used it they come to his house
by night and tear him in four pieces, which they cast afar into
the four quarters of the earth, yea, and thereunto carry away
all the swine, horses, and cattle, so intolerable is their wrath.”
Therefore men use the word hmana zena, or “common woman,”
hmana being the Slavonic pronunciation of the German word gemein,
or common.

In Dalmatia and far into Servia a witch is called macisnica, and
magic, macija, which is, evidently enough, the Italian magia.
But there are witches and witches, and it appears that among
the learned the vjestica differs from the macionica, and this
from the Zlokobnica who, as the “evil-meeter,” or
one whom it is unlucky to encounter in the morning, is probably
only one who has the evil eye. A quotation from a Servian authority,
given by Dr. KRAUSS, is as follows:–

“I have often heard from old
Hodzas and Kadijas, that every female Wallach,
as soon as she is forty years old, abandons the ‘God be with us!’
and becomes a witch (vjestica), or at least a
zlokobnica or macionica.
A real witch has a mark of a cross under her nose,
a zlokobnica has some hairs of a beard,
and a macionica may be known by a forehead
full of dark folds (frowns),
with blood-spots in her face”

~~ “Niz srpskih pripoviedaka. VUK. vit. Vecevica. Pancevo,” p. 93. 1880 ~~

Of the great number of South Slavonian terms for the verb to
enchant or bewitch, it may suffice to say that the commencement,
carati, cari carani, carovnik, &c., appear to have much
more affinity to the gypsy chor-ava, to steal or swindle, and
chov-hani, a witch, than to the Italian ciarlatano, and the
French and English charlatan, from which Dr. KRAUSS derives
them.

THE VILAS-SYLVANA ELEMENTARY SPIRITS

Among the Slavonic and gypsy races all witchcraft, fairy- and
Folk-lore rests mainly upon a belief in certain spirits of the
wood and wold, of earth and water, which has much in common
with that of the Rosicrucians and PARACELSUS, but much more
with the gypsy mythology (as given by Wlislocki, “Vom Wandernden
Zigeunervolke,” pp. 49-309), which is apparently in a great
measure of directly Indian origin.

“In the Vile,” says Dr. KRAUSS, “also known as
Samovile, Samodivi, and Vilevrjaci, we have near relations to
the forest and field spirits, or the ‘wood-‘ and ‘moss-folk’
of Middle Germany, France, and Bavaria; the ‘wild people’ of
Eifel, Hesse, Salzburg, and the Tyrol; the wood-women and wood-men
of Bohemia; the Tyrolese Fanggen, Fänken, Nörkel,
and Happy Ladies; the Roumanish Orken, Euguane, and Dialen;
the Danish Ellekoner; the Swedish Skogsnufvaz; and the Russian
Ljesje; while in certain respects they have affinity with the
Teutonic Valkyries.” Yet they differ on the whole from
all of these, as from English fairies, in being more like divinities,
who exert a constant and familiar influence for good or evil
on human beings, and who are prayed to or exorcised on all occasions.

They have, however, their exact parallel among the Red Indians of
North America as among the Eskimo, and it is evident that they
are originally derived from the old or primeval Shamanic faith,
which once spread all over the earth. It is very true, as Dr.
KRAUSS remarks, that in the West of Europe it is becoming almost
impossible to trace this true origin of spirits now regarded
as merely diabolical, or otherwise put into new rôles;
but among the South Slavonians and gypsies we can still find
them in very nearly their old form and playing the same parts.
We can still find the Vila as set forth in old ballads, the
incarnation of beauty and power, the benevolent friends of sufferers,
the geniuses of heroes, the dwellers by rock and river and greenwood
tree. But they are implacable in their wrath to all who deceive
them, or who break a promise; nay, they inflict terrible punishment
even on those who disturb their rings or the dances which they
make by midsummer moonlight. Hence the proverb applied to any
man who suddenly fell ill: “Naiso je na vilinsko kolo”
(“He stepped on a fairy-ring”). From this arbitrary
exercise of power we find the Vila represented at times as a
spirit who punishes and torments.

Thus we are told that there was once a shepherd named STANKO,
who played beautifully on the flute. One evening he was so absorbed
in his own music that when the Ave Maria bell rung, instead
of repeating the prayer he played it. As he ended he saw a Vila
sitting on a hedge. And from that hour she never left him, By
table, by his bed, at work or play, the white form and unearthly
eyes of the spirit were close to him.

“By a spell to him unknown,
He could never be alone.”

Witches and wizards were summoned to aid him, but to no avail;
nay, it made matters worse, for the Vila now often beat him,
and when, people asked him why it was, he replied that the Vila
did so because he refused to wander out into the world with
her. And yet again he would be discovered in the top of a tree,
bound with bast; and so it went on for years, till he was finally
found one morning drowned in a ditch. So in the Wolf Dietrich
legend the hero refuses the love of die rauhe Else, and is made
mad by the witch and runs wild. All of which is identical with
what is told in an Algonkin tale (vide “The Algonkin Legends
of New England”).

There are three kinds of witches or spirits among the Southern
Slavonians which correspond in every respect exactly to those
in which the gypsies believe. The first of these are the Zracne
Vile, or aerial spirits. These, like the spirits of the air
of Scripture, are evily-disposed to human beings, playing them
mischievous tricks or inflicting on them fatal injuries. They
lead them astray by night, like Friar Rush and Robin Goodfellow,
or the English gypsy Mullo doods, or bewilder and frighten them
into madness.

Of the second kind are the Earth spirits, Pozemne Vile, in gypsy
Pcûvushi or Pûvushi. These are amiable, noble, and
companionable beings, who often give sage counsel to men.

Thirdly are the Water sprites, in Slavonic Povodne Vile, in gypsy Nivashi,
who are to the highest degree vindictive at times, yet who behave
kindly to men when they meet them on land. But woe to those
who, while swimming, encounter them in streams or lakes, for
then the goblins grasp and whirl them about until they perish.

From this account by Dr. KRAUSS, it appears as if this Slavonic mythology
were derived from the gypsy, firstly, because it is more imperfect
than the latter, and secondly, because in it Vilas, or spirits,
are confused with witches, while among the gypsies they are
clearly separated and distinctly defined.

Dr. WLISLOCKI Says (“Vom Wand. Zigeunervolke,” p.
253) that “gypsies are still a race given to Shamanism,
but yet they reverence a highest being under the name of devla
or del.” This is, however, the case to-day with all believers
in Shaman or Sorcery-religion, the difference between them and
monotheists being that this highest god is little worshipped
or even thought of, all practical devotion being paid to spirits
who are really their saints. By close examination the Gypsy
religion, like that of the country-folk in India, appears to
be absolutely identical in spirit with that of American Indians.
And I should say that the monk mentioned by PRÆTORIUS,
who declared that though God and Christ should damn him, yet
he could be saved by appealing to Saint Joseph, was not very
far removed from being a Shamanist.

The Hungarian gypsies are divided into tribes, and one of these,
the Kukaya, believes itself to be descended from the Pçuvushi,
or earth-fairies, according to the following story, narrated
by Dr. H. von WLISLOCKI in his paper on the genealogy and family
relations of the Transylvanian Tent Gypsies:–

“Many thousand years ago there were as yet in the world
very few Pchuvushi.
These are beings of human form dwelling under the earth. There
they have cities,
but they very often come to the world above. They are ugly,
and their men are covered
with hair. (All of this indicates a prehistoric subterranean
race like the Eskimo, fur-clad.)
They carry off mortal girls for wives. Their life is hidden
in the egg of a black hen.”

This is the same as that of the Orco or Ogre in the Italian
tale, “I Racconti delle Fate, Cesare da Causa,” Florence,
1888. Whoever kills the hen and throws the egg into a running
stream, kills the pchuvush.

“Once a young Pchûvush woman came up to the world
and sat in a fair green forest. She saw a very beautiful youth
sleeping in the shade, and said: ‘What happiness it must be
to have such a husband. Mine is so ugly!’

Her husband, who had stolen silently after her, heard this, and
reflected ‘What a good idea it would be to lend my wife to this
young man till she shall have borne a family of beautiful children!
Then I could sell them to my rich Pchuvûs friends.’

So he said to his wife: ‘You may live with this youth for ten.
years if you will promise to give me either the boys or the
girls which you may bear to him.’

She agreed to this. Then the Pchûvûs began to sing:–

“‘Kuku, kukáya
Kames to adala?
Kuku, kukaya.’
That is in English:–
“‘Kuku, kukaya
Do you want this (one) here
Kuku, kukaya.’

Then the young man awoke, and as the goblin offered him much
gold and silver with his wife, he took her and lived with her
ten years, and every year she bore him a son. Then came the
Pchuvush to get the children. But the wife said she had chosen
to keep all the sons, and was very sorry but she had no girls
to give him! So he went away sorrowfully, howling,

“‘Kuku, kukáya!
Ada kin jirklá!
Kuku, kukaya!’
“That is to say:–
“‘Kuku, kukaya
These are dogs here!
Kuku, kukaya!’

“Then the ten boys laughed and said to their father We
will call ourselves Kukaya.’ And so from them came the race.”

Dr. WLISLOCKI points out that there are races which declare
themselves to be descended from dogs, or, like the Romans, from
wolves. It is a curious coincidence that the Eskimo are among
the former.

EGGSHELLS AND EGG-LORE

In all parts of Eastern Europe, as in the West, many people
are not only careful to burn the parings of their nails 1 and
the combings of hair, for fear lest witches and imps should
work sorcery with them to the injury of those from whom they
came, but they also destroy the shells of eggs when they have
eaten their contents. So A. WUTTKE tells us in his book,

“Der Deutsche Volks Aberglaube der Gegenwart,” 1869
“When one has eaten eggs the shells must be broken up or
burned, or else the hens will lay no more, or evil witches will
come over them.” And in England, Spain, the Netherlands,
or Portugal, there are many who believe or say that if the witches
can get such shells from which people have eaten, unbroken,
they can, by muttering spells, cause them to grow so large that
they can use them as boats. Dom LEITAS GANET (“Donna Branca
ou à Conquista do Algarre,” Paris, 1826), however,
assures us that is a very risky thing for the witches, because
if they do not return home before midnight the shell-boat perishes,
“whence it hath come to pass that many of these sorceresses
have been miserably drowned.”

However, an egg hung up in a house is a lucky amulet, hence
the ostrich eggs and cocoanuts resembling them which are so
common in the East. And it is to be observed that every gypsy
in England declares that a pivilioi, or cocoanut, as a gift
brings bâk or luck, I myself having had many given to
me with this assurance. This is evidently and directly derived
from India, in which country there are a mass of religious traditions
referring to it.

“Once there was a gypsy girl who noticed that when anybody
ate eggs they broke up the shells, and asking why this was done
received for answer:–

“‘You must break the shell to bits
for fear
Lest the witches should make it a boat, my dear.
For over the sea away from home,
Far by night the witches roam.’

“Then the girl said: ‘I don’t see why the poor witches
should not have boats as well as other people.’ And saying this
she threw the shell of an egg which she had been eating as far
as she could, and cried, ‘Chovihani, lav tro bero!’ (‘Witch–there
is your boat!’) But what was her amazement to see the shell
caught up by the wind and whirled away on high till it became
invisible, while a voice cried, ‘Paraka!’ (‘I thank you!’)

“Now it came to pass some time after that the gypsy girl
was on an island, where she remained some days. And when she
wished to return, behold a great flood was rising, and it had
washed her boat away, she could see nothing of it. But the water
kept getting higher and higher, and soon there was only a little
bit of the island above the flood, and the girl thought she
must drown. just then she saw a white boat coming; there sat
in it a woman with witch eyes; she was rowing with a broom,
and a black cat sat on her shoulder. ‘Jump in!’ she cried to
the girl, and then rowed her to the firm land.

“When she was or. the shore the woman said: ‘Turn round
three times to the right and look every time at the boat.’ She
did so, and every time she looked she saw the boat grow smaller
till it was like an egg. Then the woman sang:–

“‘That is the shell you threw to
me,
Even a witch can grateful be.’

“Saying this she vanished, cat, broom, shell, and all.

“Now my story is fairly done,
I beg you to tell a better one.”

As regards these boats which grow large or small at will we
find them in the Norse ship Skidbladner, which certain dwarfs
made and gave to Frey. It is so large that all the gods and
their army can embark in it. But when not in use it may be so
contracted that one may hava i pungi sino–put it in his purse
or pocket. The Algonkin god Glooskap has not only the counterpart
of Skidbladnir, but the hammer of Thor and his belt of strength.
He has also the two attendant birds which bring him news, and
the two wolves which mean Day and Night.

Another legend given by Dr. KRAUSS, relative to witches and
eggshells is as follows–

“By the Klek lived a rich tavern-keeper and his wife. He
was thin and lean–hager und mager–while she was as fat as
a well-fed pig.

“One day there came a gypsy woman by. She began to tell
his fortune by his hand. And as she studied it seriously she
became herself serious, and then said to him, ‘Listen, you good-natured
dolt (moré)! Do you know why you are so slim and your
wife so stout?’ ‘Not I.’ ‘My good friend (Latcho pral), your
wife is a witch. Every Friday when there is a new moon (mladi
petak) she rides you up along the Klek to the devil’s dance’
(Uraze kolo). ‘How can that be?’ ‘Simply enough. As soon as
you fall asleep, she slips a magic halter over your head. Then
you become a horse, and she rides you over the hills and far
away over mountains and woods, cities and seas, to the witches’
gathering.

“Little you know where you have been; little you think
of what you have seen; “for when you awake it is all forgotten,
but the ride is hard for you, and you are wasting away, and
dying. Take great care of yourself on the next Friday when there
is a new moon!’

“So the gypsy went her way, and he thought it over. On
the next Friday when the moon was new he went to bed early,
but only pretended to sleep. Then his wife came silently as
a cat to the bed-side with the magic halter in her hand. As
quick as lightning he jumped up, snatched it from her, and threw
it over her head. Then she became, in a second, a mare. He mounted
her, and away she flew through the air-over hills and dales
like the wind, till they came to the witches’ meeting.

“He dismounted, bound the mare to a tree, and, unseen by
the company, watched them at a little distance. All the witches
carried pots or jars. First they danced in a ring, then every
one put her pot on the ground and danced alone round it. And
these pots were egg-shells.

“While he watched, there came flying to him a witch in
whom he recognized his old godmother. ‘How did you come here?’
she inquired. ‘Well, I came here on my mare, I know not how.’
‘Woe to you–begone as soon as possible. If the witches once
see you it will be all up with you. Know that we are all waiting
for one’ (this one was his wife), ‘and till she comes we cannot
begin.’ Then the landlord mounted his mare, cried ‘Home!’ and
when he was there tied her up in the stable and went to bed.

“In the morning his servant-man said to him: ‘There is
a mare in the stable.’ ‘Yes,’ replied the master; ‘it is mine.’
So he sent for a smith, and made him shoe the mare. Now, whatever
is done to a witch while she is in the form of an animal remains
on or in her when she resumes her natural shape.

“Then he went out and assembled a judicial or legal commission.
He led the members to his house, told them all his story, led
forth the mare, and took off the halter. She became a woman
as before, but horse-shoes were affixed to her feet and hands.
She began to weep and wail, but the judge was pitiless. He had
her thrown into a pit full of quicklime, and thus she was burnt
to death. And since that time people break the shells of eggs
after eating their contents, lest witches should make jars or
pots of them.”

The following story on the same subject is from a different
source:–

“There was once a gypsy girl who was very clever, and whenever
she heard people talk about witches she remembered it well.
One day she took an egg-shell and made a small round hole in
it very neatly, and are the yolk and white, but the shell she
put on a heap of white sand by a stream, where it was very likely
to be seen. Then she hid herself behind a bush. By and by, when
it was night, there came a witch, who, seeing the shell, pronounced
a word over it, when it changed to a beautiful boat, into which
the witch got and sailed on the water, over the sea.

“The girl remembered the word, and soon ate another egg
and turned it into a boat. Whenever she willed it went over
the world to places where fruit and flowers abounded, or where
people gave her much gold for such things as knives and scissors.
So she grew rich and had a fine house. The boat she hid away
carefully in a bush.

“There was a very envious, wicked woman, whom the girl
had befriended many a time, and who hated her all the more for
it. And this creature set to work, spying and sneaking, to find
out the secret of the girl’s prosperity. And at last she discovered
the boat, and, suspecting something, hid herself in the bush
hard by to watch.

“By and by the girl came with a basket full of wares for
her trade, and, drawing out the boat, said, ‘To Africa!’–when
off it flew. The woman watched and waited. After a few hours
the girl returned. Her boat was full of fine things, ostrich
feathers and gold, fruit and strange flowers, all of which she
carried into her house.

“Then the woman put the boat on the water, and said, ‘To
Africa!’ But she did not know the word by means of which it
was changed from an egg-shell, and which made it fly like thought.
So as it went along the woman cried, ‘Faster!’, but it never
heeded her. Then she cried again in a great rage, and at last
exclaimed, ‘In God’s name get on with you!’ Then the spell was
broken, and the boat turned into an egg-shell, and the woman
was drowned in the great rolling sea.”

Egg-lore is inexhaustible. The eggs of Maundy Thursday (Witten
Donnertag), says a writer in The Queen, protect a house against
thunder and lightning, but, in fact, an egg hung up is a general
protection, hence the ostrich eggs and cocoanuts of the East.
Some other very interesting items in the communication referred
to are as follows:–

“WITCHES AND EGGS.–‘To hang an egg laid on Ascension Day in the roof of a house,’ says Reginald Scot in 1584, ‘preserveth the same from all hurts.’ Probably this was written with an eye to the ‘hurts’ arising from witchcraft, in connection with which eggs were supposed to possess certain mysterious powers. In North Germany, if you have a desire to see the ladies of the broomstick on May Day, their festival, you must take an egg laid on Maundy Thursday, and stand where four roads meet; or else you must go into church on Good Friday, but come out before the blessing. It was formerly quite an article of domestic belief that the shells must be broken after eating eggs, lest the witches should sail out to sea in them; or, as Sir Thomas Browne declared, lest they ‘should draw or prick their names therein, and veneficiously mischief’ the person who had partaken of the egg. North Germans, ignoring this side of the question, say, “Break the shells or you will get the ague;” and Netherlanders advise you to secure yourself against the attacks of this disagreeable visitor by eating on Easter Day a couple of eggs which were laid on Good Friday.

“SCOTTISH SUPERSTITIONS.–Scotch
fishers, who may be reckoned among the most superstitious of
folks, believe that contrary winds and much consequent vexation
of spirit will be the result of having eggs on board with them;
while in the west of England it is considered very unlucky to
bring birds’ eggs into the house, although they may be hung
up with impunity outside. Mr. Gregor, in his ‘Folklore of the
North-East of Scotland,’ gives us some curious particulars concerning
chickens, and the best methods of securing a satisfactory brood.
The hen, it seems, should be set on an odd number of eggs, or
the chances are that most, if not all, will be addled–a mournful
prospect for the henwife; also they must be placed under the
mother bird after sunset, or the chickens will be blind. If
the woman who performs this office carries the eggs wrapped
up in her chemise, the result will be hen birds; if she wears
a man’s hat, cocks. Furthermore, it is as well for her to repeat
a sort of charm, ‘A’ in thegeethir, A oot thegeethir.’

“UNLUCKY EGGS.–There are
many farmers’ wives, even in the present day, who would never
dream of allowing eggs to be brought into the house or taken
out after dark–this being deemed extremely unlucky. Cuthbert
Bede mentions the case of a farmer’s wife in Rutland who received
a setting of ducks’ eggs from a neighbour at nine o’clock at
night. ‘I cannot imagine how she could have been so foolish,’
said the good woman, much distressed, and her visitor, upon
inquiry, was told that ducks’ eggs brought into a house after
sunset would never be hatched. A Lincolnshire superstition declares
that if eggs are carried over running water they will be useless
for setting purposes; while in Aberdeen there is an idea prevalent
among the country folks that should it thunder a short time
before chickens are hatched, they will die in the shell. The
same wiseacres may be credited with the notion that the year
the farmer’s gudewife presents him with an addition to his family
is a bad season for the poultry yard. ‘Bairns an’ chuckens,’
say they, ‘dinna thrive in ae year.’ The probable explanation
being that the gudewife, taken up with the care of her bairn,
has less time to attend to the rearing of the ‘chuckens.’

“FORTUNE-TELLING IN NORTHUMBERLAND.–Besides
the divination practised with the white of an egg, which certainly
appears of a vague and unsatisfactory character, another species
of fortune-telling with eggs is in vogue in Northumberland on
the eve of St. Agnes. A maiden desirous of knowing what her
future lord is like, is enjoined to boil an egg, after having
spent the whole day fasting and in silence, then to extract
the yolk, fill the cavity with salt, and eat the whole, including
the shell. This highly unpalatable supper finished, the heroic
maid must walk backwards, uttering this invocation to the saint:–

“‘Sweet St. Agnes, work thy fast,
If ever I be to marry man,
Or man be to marry me,
I hope him this night to sec.'”

FRIEDRICH and others assert that the saying in Luke xi. 12–“Or if he shall ask an egg shall he give him a scorpion?”–is a direct reference to ancient belief that the egg typified the good principle, and the scorpion evil, and which is certainly supported by a cloud of witnesses in the form of classic folk-lore. The egg, as a cosmogenic symbol, and indicating the origin of all things, finds a place in the mythologies of many races. These are indicated with much erudition by FRIEDRICH, “Symbolik der Natur,” p. 686.

In Lower Alsatia it is believed that if a man will take an Easter
egg into the church and look about him, if there be any witches
in the congregation he may know them by their having in their
hands pieces of pork instead of prayer-books, and milk-pails
on their heads for bonnets;(WOLF, “Deutsche Mährchen
und Sagen,” p. 270).

There is also an ancient belief that an egg built into a new building
will protect it against evil and witchcraft. Such eggs were
found in old houses in Altenhagen and Iserlohen, while in the
East there is a proverb, “the egg of the chamber”
(“Hamasa” of ABU TEMMAN, v. RÜCKERT, Stuttgart,
1846), which seems to point to the same practice.

EGG PROVERBS

The Romans expressed a disaster by saying, “Ovum ruptum
est” (“The egg is smashed”).

His eggs are all omelettes (French); i.e., broken up.

Eggs in the pan give pancakes but nevermore chicks (Low German).

Never a chicken comes from broken eggs (Low German).

Bad eggs, bad chickens. Hence in America “a bad egg”
for a man who is radically bad, and “a good egg” for
the contrary.

Eggs not yet laid are uncertain chickens; i.e., “Do not
count your chickens before they are hatched.”

Tread carefully among eggs (German).

The egg pretends to be cleverer than the hen.

He waits for the eggs and lets the hen go.

He who wants eggs must endure the clucking of the hen (Westphalian).

He thinks his eggs are of more account than other people’s hens.

One rotten egg spoils all the pudding.

Rotten eggs and bad butter always stand by one another; or “go
well together.”

Old eggs, old lovers, and an old horse,

Are either rotten or for the worse.

(Original:
Alte Eyer
Alte Freier
Alter Gaul
Sind meistens faul.)

“All eggs are of the same size” (Eggs are all alike),
he said, and grabbed the biggest. As like as eggs (Old Roman).

As sure as eggs.

His eggs all have two yolks.

If you have many eggs you can have many cakes.

He who has many eggs scatters many shells.

To throw an egg at a sparrow.

To borrow trouble for eggs not yet hatched.

Half an egg is worth more than all the shell.

A drink after an egg, and a leap after an apple.

A rotten egg in his face.

In the early mythology, the egg, as a bird was hatched from
it, and as it resembled seeds, nuts, &c., from which new
plants come, was regarded as the great type of production. This
survives in love-charms, as when a girl in the Tyrol believes
she can secure a man’s love by giving him a red Easter egg.
This giving red eggs at Easter is possibly derived from the ancient
Parsees, who did the same at their spring festival.

OVA DE CRUCIBUS

Among the Christians the reproductive and sexual symbolism, when retained, was applied to the resurrection of the body and the immortality
of the soul. Hence Easter eggs. And as Christ by His crucifixion
caused this, or originated the faith, we have the ova de crucibus,
the origin of which has puzzled so many antiquaries; for the
cross itself was, like the egg, a symbol of life, in earlier
times of reproduction, and in a later age of life eternal. These
eggs are made of a large size of ornate glass by the Armenian
Christians.

Everything that happens is the message:
you read an event and be one and wait,
like breasting a wave, all the while knowing
by living, though not knowing how to live.

Or workers built an antenna — a dish
aimed at stars — and they themselves are its message,
crawling in and out, being worlds that loom,
dot-dash, and sirens, and sustaining beams.

And sometimes no one is calling but we turn up
eye and ear — suddenly we fall into
sound before it begins, the breathing
so still it waits there under the breath —

And then the green of leaves calls out, hills
where they wait or turn, clouds in their frenzied
stillness unfolding their careful words:
“Everything counts. The message is the world.”

~~ William Stafford ~~

(The Way It Is)

75% of us talk to our cars and plants. Do you?
Have you ever…
Wondered how a plant felt?

Been drawn to a certain plant in a garden center?

Just had to grow roses or apples, though you didn’t know why?

Said “hello” to a tree by touching or hugging it?

Sent loving thoughts to a plant as you watered it?

Then you’ve already experienced a kinship with plants. Humans
have experienced these sorts of connections before there was
a language to speak of them. Each of us has connected with plants
when we stop to smell the roses or walk in the woods, if even
for a half second; even if we aren’t aware of it.

“Most plants will teach anyone who is interested.
If you have the interest, follow up on it and see for yourself.”

~~ Eliot Cowan, author
of the book, “Plant Spirit Medicine” ~~

Communicating with plants is a come-as-you-are exercise. You don’t have to be anything other than who you are right now to begin. (I even
list a few sample questions later on that you can use). There
are no impossible rules or by-the-book techniques to follow.
What’s more, each one of us has the ability to communicate with
other species. Yes, you can do this, and so can your best friend.
It’s not a special gift that’s been designated to a select few.

If you invest the time in learning how to communicate with plants–whether
it’s an orchid, broccoli plant, rose bush, or giant redwood–you
will, without a doubt, enhance your life with new insights,
appreciation, and understanding.

Communicating with plants is a two-way street that occurs on a level playing
field. No one has the upper hand. It’s just two individuals
chatting back and forth. All you need is a genuine curiosity
and a sense of adventure. The rewards are a greater ability
to pay attention to life, a stronger kinship with the natural
world, and a greater capacity to love.

The following steps are presented as a way for you to get your
feet wet. They are also a good reference to refer back to. Once
you become more comfortable with the idea of communicating with
another species (these techniques, by the way, apply to all
things), let your instinctive wisdom guide you. You might even
find yourself developing your own method, which is great. Discover
what works best for you. Relax, trust, and don’t try too hard.
Like developing any talent or skill, regular practice is the
key. I suggest keeping a journal nearby to jot down notes.

“Welcome, friend…
I speak for all plants. We are pleased and honored
that you wish to connect so deeply with us and share your energy

and your friendship. Thank you so much for that gift.
Please enjoy your visit. We are always happy to hear from you.”

~~ Georgiane, a parlor palm ~~

To get started, the first thing you need to do is . . .

Ground and center yourself

Becoming grounded and centered helps you get situated. It’s
like going to the theatre. You find your seat and settle in
for the evening’s performance. So find a quiet space that’s
relatively free from distractions. (Turn off the phone!) Sit
in a comfortable position on a chair or sofa, or cross-legged
on the floor. Visualize yourself connected to the earth by imagining
a line, beam of light, or cone of energy above you. See it flowing
through your body and down through your feet into the earth,
like plant roots extending outward. Get the feeling of being
settled in, centered and balanced–left and right, forwards
and backwards, up and down.
No, you don’t have to empty your mind

“No one with a busy life can or should try to empty the mind, whatever
that means,” says Lorin Roche, PhD, author of “Meditation
Made Easy.” Our minds are in constant state of chatter,
and trying to clear it is an unrealistic task. It would be like
trying NOT to think of a pink elephant. The idea here is to
encourage, and allow for, moments of inner quiet and peace.
I’m not suggesting you try to stop thinking. You’re establishing
a two-way dialogue here, and thinking is an important part of
this kind of communication.

As you sit quietly, you may notice all sorts of thoughts (work,
errands, grocery lists–you name it) battling for your attention.
This is normal. It’s also normal to become irritated or try
to ignore these seemingly unruly thoughts altogether as if they
didn’t exist. The best way to deal with them as they pop unannounced
into your consciousness is to simply acknowledge their presence
and let them move on, like frames in a movie. In time, the quiet
moments will increase, allowing you to be more receptive to
what the plant is sharing with you. Be patient with your efforts.
Even if you’re only able to experience a sense of peace and
calm for just a few moments at first, it’s a step in the right
direction.

Breathe with awareness

The next step involves breathing with awareness, which simply means
paying attention to the flow of air in and out of your body
as you breathe. Inhale and exhale gently and fully from your
lower abdomen, not your upper chest, to allow for complete breaths.
Pay attention as you breathe in and breathe out. Breathing with
awareness also helps you focus on something besides your chatty,
inner dialogue.

Let go of expectations and outcomes

Try not to carry a pre-conceived idea or plan of what might happen
during your conversation. Life doesn’t unfold that way anyway;
so holding on to an agenda will only leave you disappointed.
Simply allow things to occur and accept them without judgment.
This comes with practice and increased trust. Stay in the present
moment and don’t be concerned about things you’ve heard or read
about. Something always happens during one-on-one communications,
though it might occur on a level or in such a way that you don’t
recognize it. At least, not yet.

Focus

Staying focused means to maintain a strong and clear intention about
what you’re doing.

Go ahead and get the plant’s attention

Now it’s time to let the plant know you’d like to converse with
it. This simple act is a little like knocking on a friend’s
door before coming in for a cup of coffee and a chat. In this
case, you silently state his, her, or its name (or whatever
feels right to call it) three times.

Introduce yourself and state your purpose

This is easy to do. Just introduce yourself as if you were meeting
someone for the first time. Then state your purpose. Here’s
an example: “Hello fern. My name is Marion. I’d like to
ask you a few questions.” Now visualize your words moving
toward the plant, across the space between you and the plant.
See your message gently lighting on its leaves or branches.

Start asking questions

At this point, you might be wondering, “What kind of questions
should I ask?” Here are some examples to get the juices
flowing:

• How are you?
• Please tell me about yourself.
• What do you need to be healthier?
• Am I watering you too much?
• What kind of nourishment (fertilizer) do you prefer?

• Is pruning good for you? If so, how should I do it?

• What kind of music do you like?
• What should I do to get rid of _______ (pests)?
• What other things would you like to tell me?

Now, just send your questions, one at a time, over to the plant
as I described above, and…

Relax into receiving the plant’s message

The responses you receive may come in a variety of forms, such as
visual images, auditory messages in the form of words, whole
sentences, or sounds, feelings or sensations in your body, smells,
tastes, and sudden “knowings,” which I call ah–HAH’s!

One of my first experiences with sending and receiving messages
occurred during an introductory “Communicating with Plants”
workshop. In the beginning we practiced sending and receiving
messages to each other. Here’s what happened to me: One of participants
(the sender) was asked to think of three yellow objects and
write them down.

After concentrating a few moments, he mentally “sent” the
images to me. I relaxed into a receiving mode as I’d just been
taught, and after a few moments I saw in my mind’s eye a yellow
daffodil, a yellow ribbon waving like a banner, and the sun.
The sender and I compared notes and to my surprise (and delight!)
I “got” exactly what he’d sent. It was the beginning
of a wonderful journey . . .

“I walked up to one tree and
put my hands against its bark,
congratulating it on its courage, trying to draw on its strength.

The tree was warm under my hands.
I swear I felt it communicating back to me,
with its own brand of comfort and compassion…
It had things to teach me. I had come to believe that
without any sense of false modesty.”

~~ Martha Beck ~~

Carry on a conversation

From this point, continue sending questions and listening for the
answers. Go back and forth, as if you were talking with another
person. And don’t be surprised if you’re asked a question! With
practice, your dialogues will flow naturally and effortlessly.

When you’re finished talking…

When you’re done asking questions or when you feel like the conversation
has reached an end, be sure to give thanks. Being grateful is
an important part of acknowledging all special events in your
life. You don’t need to be formal or stiff. A simple and loving
“thank you” is all you need to show your appreciation.

May your journey be of learning, growth, and love.

[Special note from Marion: If you’re not quite sure if you want to go
through these steps, then here’s a simple way to become more
aware of nature around you. When you go for a walk, for example,
acknowledge trees and flowers simply by saying “Hello.”
It sounds so simple, but it is very effective.]

By Marion Owen,
Fearless Weeder for PlanTea, Inc.
and Co-author of Chicken Soup for the Gardener’s Soul

Additional reading and resources:

Growing Myself–A Spiritual Journey Through Gardening,
by Judith Handelsman.
How gardening can clean the layers of soot and grime off your
intuition, can help you listen better to that intuition and
act on it. Consider Handelsman the facilitator of a seminar
that will force you to slow down, grow up, fine-tune and take
responsibility.–The Los Angeles Times

The Secret Life of Plants, by Peter Tompkins and Christopher Bird,
authors of Secrets of the Soil.

The Assisi International Animal Institute. Assisi International Animal Institute is a non-profit, nondenominational organization dedicated to the promotion of the well-being of nonhuman animals. We do so through our educational programs, through consciousness raising and through rehabilitation. Their work emphasizes how communcations with nonhuman animals can promote healthy, stronger relationships, and wonderful learning opportunities. Their newsletters contain beautiful and inspirational stories resulting from human-to-animal communications. For more info, to join, or if you need to communicate with YOUR animal (pet): PO Box 10166, Oakland, CA 94610-0166; Phone: 510-569-6123;
Fax: 510-635-2351.

We wish to promote compassion and reverence for all life. To Hear the Angels Sing by Dorothy Maclean, co-founder of Findhorn. Lorian Press, 1984.

Talking with Nature by Michael J. Roads. Published by H J Kramer, Inc., Tiburon, CA. ISBN 0-915811-06-5.

Behaving As If the God In All Life Mattered</>, by Machaelle Small Wright. Published by Perelandra. ISBN 0-9617713-0-5.

I confess:
I am a multidimensional vibration.
But How do I contain that?
I am being and becoming
And I am lost and found in the between
All-Ways

But I don’t
know how to reach the other parts of me,
stretched like melted plastic taffy through wormholes of possibility.

I am the
thirteenth rose, de-thorned, but pricked by the dozen other
red mirrors.
The roses were white, but stained the blood of my zodiacal reflection.

Archetypes
battle in me, and I seek my courage in conjuring miracles:
the hymns necessary to sustain peace between the gods of war.

All gods
are gods of war.

And I’ve
been caught stealing
Thunder
I’ve been caught thieving
Fire

The eagle
pecks at my flesh
The swan serenades my soul beyond death
The vulture carries the carrion of my heart across the Milky
river Styx

I am the
orphan in exile, and I am the hybrid trying to hide in stars
And my centaur’s arrow points back, like an oroborous tail,
Straight into my mouth
I am both Prometheus and the Wounded Healer who spares his Flame
from its famine
I am the Artist-Shaman who sacrifices his heart upon the altar
So that humanity may feast upon dawn for but one more day
I am the Sacred Face of the Sun
Reaching to kiss you with my Solar Flare lips
I know my embrace is deadly
But the Light will ascend you
And the Heat will resurrect you
Just stare at me and remember
You are not separate
Climb into the Light
Return the Many to the One
and Fold the distance
Into Wholeness

Source: Reality Sandwich

A pilgrimage in a Druidic expression, as it is in any other spiritual
expression, is going to the depths of oneself, confronting the
Guardian at the Gate and smashing through self-imposed barriers
to healing, greater self-awareness, greater confidence and a
fuller expression of one’s gifts.

Symbolically I experience this every time I hike with my precious Familiar,
an eight-year-old Boxer named Mosely. We have a favorite hike
in the Redwoods in Del Norte County California, outside the
club where we attend clay target tournaments.

As we leave the noise and conversation of the tournament and enter
the Woods, the path winds through a grassy, sunny meadow—easy!
Then the trees close in and it becomes dark. The path ribbons
through eerie, mossy branches. I am small and alone. The Guardian
at the Gate confronts me: What if a bear or a cougar comes?
Everyone who visits here has a bear or cougar story. What if
you fall and no one knows you are here? We continue through
the shadows, wary but determined that our sacred time not be
cut short.

“If the Spirits of this ancient place take one of those forms they
will not harm me. They will know I honor them and have called
them here to share this time of respite and peace. They will
keep me from falling into fear or onto the ground,” I
gratefully confront the Guardian.

The Sacred overwhelms me; the mundane falls away. I hear the Nature
Spirits inviting me to complete their small test, to continue,
to find rest and Light for my Soul and restore my weary, cranky
Spirit.

Soon the path breaks into Light, brighter this time, and we begin
climbing. The second Guardian—my legs become tired and
I feel the weariness left by my sedentary job.

“I will not let this sacred time be cut short,” I confront
the Guardian, and continue to our usual stopping point marked
by a deep gully—or even venture beyond it.

Joy overcomes me and I am near tears at my reward—a view of
a Valley of ancient, sacred Redwoods offering me strength, peace
and restoration—and telling me secrets I can only hope
to begin to understand some day. I am whole, balanced and ready
to return to offer my love and my gifts to my fellow tournament
participants.

Another pilgrimage brought a confrontation with an infinitely more frightening, evil Guardian – my terror of death.

My brother drowned at age ten at a Fourth of July swimming party
with his Little League team. Jack was his seven-year-old sister’s
protector, joy and idol.

I had no chance to say good bye. Believing it was for my shelter
and protection, my parents did not allow me to participate in
any funeral. Jack simply disappeared. All I remember were aunts
and uncles gathered at the house, my Dad escaping to the hills
for a short while when grief overwhelmed him, and my Mom lying
on the couch, sedated. Once I thought she had died too.

I cried myself to sleep, afraid to cry during the day. Was I allowed
to? Would I be punished? I was seven years old and terrified
my parents would disappear next.

Fast forward to February 1991. My father-in-law was dying. His last
words to me were, “You have always been my daughter too.”
They were spoken the afternoon before he died. I could not enter
his room again. I hit the wall of terror, hard.

I tremblingly revealed my terrified seven-year-old self to my
in-laws and to Sister Rosalie, a Catholic Nun who had stopped
by. I explained I was simply too scared to go back into the
room. “He understands; we all understand,” said
Sister Rosalie.

“We need coffee and lots of it. That will mean more than anything,”
other family members said.

Healing words! I could feel the wall melting in warmth! My loved ones
were okay with me even though I had hit the wall. Gratitude
overwhelmed me and the coffee perked all night. I was loved
and accepted by everyone on both sides of the Veil even though
I was too frightened to be in the room. My “second Dad”
is now one of my precious Ancestors and offers me wisdom and
guidance throughout my daily round.

Pilgrimages are hard but the rewards are well worth it!

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth
And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms

We, this
people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible
tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
When
we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.

~~ Maya Angelou ~~
(A Brave and Startling Truth)

Welsh names, particularly place-names, can be broken down into
smaller words, many of which re-occur frequently. A common example
is Llan, with the approximate meaning of ‘church’, followed
by the name of the saint to whom the church is dedicated. The
first example above, Llansanffraid Glynceiriog, translates as
‘the church of St Ffraid in the valley (glyn) of the Ceiriog’;
the second, Penrhyndeudraeth, is ‘the headland (penrhyn) of
the two (deu) beaches (traeth)’. Once you have a sense of how
these names are composed it becomes much easier to pronounce
them correctly.

What does Llanfairpwllgwyngychgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch
mean?

It starts with Llanfairpwllgwyngyll. This is the ‘Church
of (St) Mary in Pwllgwyngyll’ which translates as ‘The
Church of St Mary by the pool with the white (gwyn) willows
(cyll, plural of collen, hazel). The rest was added in the 1850’s
by a local man: goger y chwyrn drobwyll – ‘fairly close
to the wild (chwyrn) whirlpool (trobwll)’ of ‘Llantysiliogogogoch’,
of the red cave of Llantysilio (the Church of St Tysilio).

All at once now:

Church of St. Mary by the pool with the white willows, fairly
close to the wild whirlpool of the red cave of the Church of
St. Tysilio.

The word	How to say it	What it means
afon	avvon	river/stream
braich	bray-ch	ridge
bryn	brin	mountain
bwlch	bulk	saddle/pass/col
castell	kas-tell	castle
coch	coch	red
crib	crib	ridge
cwm	coom	valley head
fan	van	mountain
foel	voil	bare hill
gallt	gachlt	slope
gawr	gowrr	torrent
glyn	glyn	deep valley
isaf	issaf	lower
llyn	hchlyn	lake
mawr	mowrr	large
moel	moil	bare hill
mynydd	munith	mountain
nant	nant	brook
ogof	ogov	cave
pant	pant	hollow
pen	pen	peak/top
trum	trum	ridge
uchaf	ickaf	upper/higher
y	ee	the
ynys	uhnis	island

Sources:
 Trail magazine
Linguata

That day I saw beneath dark clouds
The passing light over the water
And I heard the voice of the world speak out
I knew then as I have before
Life is no passing memory of what has been
Nor the remaining pages of a great book
Waiting to be read

It is the opening of eyes long closed
It is the vision of far off things
Seen for the silence they hold
It is the heart after years of secret conversing
Speaking out loud in the clear air

It is Moses in the desert fallen to his knees
Before the lit bush
It is the man throwing away his shoes
As if to enter heaven and finding himself astonished
Opened at last
Fallen in love
With Solid Ground

~~ David Whyte ~~
(Songs for Coming Home)

There is religion in everything around us,
A calm and holy religion
In the unbreathing things in Nature.

It is a
meek and blessed influence,
Stealing in as it were unaware upon the heart;
It comes quickly, and without excitement;
It has no terror, no gloom;
It does not rouse up the passions;
It is untrammeled by creeds…

It is written
on the arched sky;
It looks out from every star;
It is on the sailing cloud and in the invisible wind;
It is among the hills and valleys of the Earth
Where the shrubless mountain-top pierces the thin atmosphere

of eternal winter,
Or where the mighty forest fluctuates before the strong wind,
With its dark waves of green foliage;

It is spread
out like a legible language upon the broad face
of an unsleeping ocean;
It is the Poetry of Nature;
It is that which uplifts the Spirit within us…
And which opens to our imagination a world of
spiritual beauty and holiness.

~~ John Ruskin ~~

May the light of your soul guide you.
May the light of your soul bless the work
You do with the secret love and warmth of your heart.
May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul.
May the sacredness of your work bring healing, light and renewal
to those
Who work with you and to those who see and receive your work.
May your work never weary you.
May it release within you wellsprings of refreshment, inspiration
and excitement.
May you be present in what you do.
May you never become lost in the bland absences.
May the day never burden you.
May dawn find you awake and alert, approaching your new day
with dreams,
Possibilities and promises.
May evening find you gracious and fulfilled.
May you go into the night blessed, sheltered and protected.
May your soul calm, console and renew you.

~~ John O’Donohue ~~

Medford, OR:
We celebrated Imbolc with Rite at our Seer’s beautiful property in Central Point, Oregon. Several of us have helped loved ones, both human and animal, cross the Veil recently, and several of us have had family members traveling. So we honored Bridhe and Mannanan Mac Lir as our Patrons and
asked The Shining Ones to shepherd us and those we love to safe pastures. We asked for a time of rest, respite and peace and  he Ritual proved to be just that. We enjoyed a scrumptious potluck following the Rite.

We will celebrate Ostara and the Spring Equinox Saturday, March
19, 2011 with a Rite at TouVelle park on the bank of the Rogue
River and at the foot of the geologically prominent Table Rocks.
Further details will be posted on our website.

Our website: http://triplehorses.weebly.com

Our contact info:
medford.grove@reformed-druids.org

Seasonal blessings,
Clan of the Triplehorses Grove

Redding, CA:

Our fledging web presence is at:http://www.myspace.com/manzanita_druids

Blessings of Summer,
Tiffiny /|\
ArchDruid, Grove of the Manzanita, RDG
Contact: anderson.grove@reformed-druids.org

Although it’s not a “Grove”, the NoDaL still qualifies as an “autonomous collective” of the Reformed Druids of Gaia, and consists of all the 3rd Order Druids therein. The purpose of the NoDaL is to provide a space for Archdruids of the RDG Groves and Proto-Groves to discuss the many aspects of running a group of Druids, and provide advice and support for each other. They also act as the “legislative” branch of the RDG – creating policy as needed.

In January the NoDaL voted to make some changes to the degree system
used by RDG. The 1st, 2nd and 3rd Degrees will henceforth be called “Orders.” In regard to members of the 3rd Order, it is henceforth a requirement that members of the 3rd Order participate in the NoDaL debates and votes, which are done in within an internet group.

The members of the Nemeton request that anyone interested in having input in RDG policy, please share their concerns or suggestions.  You may write the NoDaL at senior.clerk@reformed-druids.org

Philadelphia, PA:
Currently meeting in the lush emerald woods of Fairmount Park in the city of Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection (commonly know as Philadelphia), Aelvenstar Grove honors Mother Earth. The grove was formally founded Beltaine, 2004 and is a proto grove of the Reformed Druids of Gaia/Order
of the Mithril Star and the Reformed Druids Of North America. In addition, we are associated with other pagan organizations such as Per NTR Sesen and Temple Harakhte.

Looking to our ancestors and the ancients, Aelvenstar Druids respect all life and receive inspiration from Nature and the heavens. We believe it is the natural state of Mankind to live in harmony with Nature. and that it is our responsibility to respect and protect the Earth. As activists, it is our responsibility to do our part collectively and individually to heal the environment.

Emphasizing development through the practice of Druidcraft, focus is placed upon personal growth through the development of body, mind, and spirit. Through study, discussions, rituals, retreats, fellowship, and meditation, a spiritual framework is provided through which Druids may further develop themselves.

Aelvenstar Grove holds eight celebrations a year, on the solstices, equinoxes, and cross quarter festivals. We sometimes meet on other occasions for outings and initiations. Online meetings and initiations are held too, as some members live a distance away.

We welcome new members of all backgrounds who love nature and seek
spirituality permeated in the divine beauty and wonder that surrounds us. Nature is groovy!

Courses available: Reformed Druidism 101

Website: http://www.aelvenstargrove.org

Email: philadelphia.grove@reformed-druids.org

For more information about Reformed Druidism, visit http://reformed-druids.org

Live Oak , FL:
Greetings! White Horse ProtoGrove is sorta in idle mode at the moment………….I am back at college working on my LPN & doing pre-requisites for my RN at the moment & have been very busy……..

Blessings,
Ann Feather

Contact: sebring.grove@reformed-druids.org

Roots Rocks and Stars
RDG “Proto-Grove”

Albany, OR:
Roots Rocks and Stars currently consists of three humans and two canine companions. We people are all college students, one in natural resources, one in Literature, and one in history. We live together in a small apartment in Corvallis Oregon’s north end. We are all ethnically descended from British Isle and French folks (some Native Canadian/American ancestry as well) and this colors our rituals. We are primarily dedicated to Cernunnos, Epona, Brigid, and Cerridwen but actually tend toward an abiding devotion to nature and spirit without too much investment in names and images. Our rituals tend to involve home-cooking and plenty of beer.

Contact: albany.grove@reformed-druids.org

No news this season from:

Thorn & Rose
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
RDG “Proto-Grove”

calgary.grove@reformed-druids.org