A symbol for Lughnasadh
As I prepared a talk on symbols, I realised what a tricksy beast the human brain is.
Take a symbol – a chalice, a tree, a seed: forever potent and resonant. Use it once, and then use it regularly. What happens? We transfer it from the ritual to the habitual part of our brain. What was potent can become, with familiarity, hackneyed.
Our brains are brilliant for everyday life; with a limited span of focus, we take the known world on trust. Who has time to really notice their toothpaste, front door, everyday routines?
Less good is when we extend that habitual relegation to symbols. They become part of the unobserved shorthand of our lives. So how soon do the early days of symbols sparking awakening and wonder become the taken for granted, ‘Yeah, yeah, Lughnsadh, sickle, corn, yadder, yadder…?’
And then we realise – again- that we’re sleepwalking through the spiritual practice that’s intended to wake us up to a greater connection. There’s no judgment; it’s simply what we habitually do. (If you never have, please feel incensed. But you’re probably in the tiny minority.)
So, how to avoid this trap?
I’ve got a three-stage process for every festival or seasonal celebration.
· I observe nature and see what jumps out to claim my attention
· I meditate on how that is relevant to time, place and person
· I simplify what I’ve noticed into an easy symbol to keep in mind
Of course, I might keep the same symbol for years. That’s fine, because each time I’ve looked afresh and consciously chosen it.
Why use a symbol?
‘Not hard to answer’, as the ancient bards might have responded. In terms of magically co-creating our lives, of writing the story of our relationship with the world, we have many wants. And there is a very complex relationship between desire and magnetism. Get it just right and you magnetise your desired future to flow towards you: get it wrong and you will drive it away. The magical process is of desiring yet allowing whatever will be, to be. The balance of desire/acceptance/emotion/objectivity is too nuanced for a short article. The point is this.
Using a symbol takes us beyond the realm of our everyday thinking; it helps us adopt a dispassionate connection to a level where change is possible.
A practical example
A simple meditation at Lughnasadh, the harvest time, could easily lead to dissatisfactions about our personal harvest, as we’re expert at putting themselves down.
So, to experience the true richness of harvest, the overview of our wonderful achievements and joys so far, beyond the rational mind, we choose a symbol.
This we can take into meditation without beating ourselves up for our failings. For me, this year, it is the cornucopia. I feel my spirit expand, my body relax and I smile gently every time I imagine the upended horn of plenty pouring its blessings on my life.
Cornucopia tile image: thanks to travelspot at Pixabay
In a hurry for Lughnasadh suggestions? Scroll down to ‘Activities for the Season’
Cornucopia origins
Cornucopia from the Latin “cornu” - horn, and “copia” - plenty
The conrnucopia’s chief origin story is from Ancient Greece. Briefly, when Zeus, King of the Gods of Ancient Greece, was a youthful scamp, he was nursed by Amalthea, a goat. Full of superhuman braggadocio, he played too roughly and tore off one of her horns. Amalthea was also placed in the heavens, and so is associated with the zodiacal sign Capricorn, of which more later…
Although the story comes from far away, the goat as nursemaid seems apt: their milk is the most comparable to human’s mother’s milk in the animal kingdom. The British Primitive Goat descends from those brought here in the Neolithic era. They’ve been around since 3,000 BCE, so it is no wonder they have an enduring place in our cultural memories. They also connect specifically to the Celtic Otherworld: the white coats of these beautiful goats connect them to the magical animals (the white hound, boar, stag and horse) which the Mabinogion tells us visit us periodically from Annwn (ahn-oo vn). This is the Celtic very deep, bright-dark country, which exists simultaneously with ours.
Goats at Brean Down, a magical peninsula on the Somerset coast. Image P. Billington
And, without strain, we can see the echoes of the cornucopia in our earliest British writings.
The cornucopia supplies endless food and drink, according to its owner’s choice.
Its British counterparts come from the thirteen treasure of Britain: they are The Hamper of Gwyddno Garanhir and The horn of Bran Galed. These two treasures between them would supply food that increased a hundredfold and whatever drink was desired. All the treasures are held safely: they were collected by Merlin, and reside with him – perhaps in the glass tower, maybe on Bardsey Island: an association for any student of the mysteries of Britain to ponder.
Travelling from ancient to modern mythology, in the UK, we have the goat-like God Pan; the focus of many stories in the first quarter of the last century, but in fatherly mode, in the seminal 'Piper at the Gates of Dawn', chapter of The Wind in the Willows. On Midsummer Night he is discovered in a magical Grove, enchanting and keeping safe a lost baby Otter. And who could forget Mr. Tumnus, Lucy's first half-goat guide into Narnia in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. The image of this faun was C.S. Lewis’ initial inspiration for the whole series. Interestingly, both characters play pipes/flutes that enchant their listeners.
The goat at the harvest season
The goat who supplied the cornucopia has an honoured place as the constellation Capricorn, and is visible from July in the south of the sky. And every year, by Lughnasadh (making allowances for the vagaries of the moon sycle) we will have passed the Capricorn full moon, reminding us at the time of plenty of the next half-turn of the circle of the Zodiac, when Capricorn comes into its own as the solar sign. At this stage, thank you to all Southern Hemisphere readers for your forebearance! It’s nice to know that we share sightings of this gorgeous constellation.
Image thanks to Gam-ol on pixabay
Activities for the season
So, what will you be doing around the cusp of July/August? This is a time for getting out, and being in the season whether you’re experiencing harvest or the beginnings of spring, and for sensing and connecting to what is happening in the world of nature. Each festival carries an echo of its opposite within it, so do send feedback about what you do and if and how you adapt the suggestions below...
Activity 1 Find your symbol for the season.
Put in on your nature table, your altar, your magic circle and your heart. Put a picture of it under your pillow: use it to inspire artwork. Use it to connect to the energy that the cosmos is pouring out at this time. Be a part of it all!
Activity 2 Climb a hill as a spiritual pilgrimage.
Pilgrimage, festivals and fairs are traditional at this time of year.
One of the more famous pilgrimages is the climbing of Croag Patrick, Co Mayo, Ireland, on the fourth Sunday of July. And from the Christian to ancient Pagan, we have Avebury, great megalithic complex. There must have been a convergence there around this time, in order to start construction of the largest man-made hill in Europe: Silbury Hill. Amazingly, archaeologists have dated the start of this monumental build to August is evidenced by the insects found in the building matter at its core.
Hills abound in legends of kings and buried treasure, echoing the golden treasure harvested from the land. Hills are places of ephiphany, of taking the wider, longer view, of seeing clearly: all good things to do at harvest time.
Activity 3 When you get to the top, stop.
At the top of your hill, rest your eyes and allow your hearing to have a chance, perhaps hearing an echo of the enchantment of the Pipes of Pan in the song of the nightingale, the rustle of the swaying wheat in the fields. Somewhere, deep in your imaginal reality, the song is resonating.
And, just for fun –
· Make a festival feast of local food in season, including your staple grain
Honour ancient tribal meetings - if you can't share your food this year, share virtually, in a festive zoom session with friends, community or family
Buy or make a loaf or cakes of ancient grain
Wear the colours of the countryside
For a week around the festival, honour the weather by adjusting your actions to it
Go to bed as the last light is leached from the sky, then see what time you wake. Sweet dreams!
Make a simple chant or 4 line poem of praise and thanks for your staple grain. If it’s not indigenous, be extra grateful.
As always, whatever you do to mark the season, feel that this is important and make time for it.
Set your intent: it can be as simple as: ‘May I attune to the wonders of the season.'
I’ll be posting a simple ‘gift of the grain’ chant, learnt from Nickomo and Rasullah* on my FB page in the last few days of July, and I’ll sign off with the lyrics. If you celebrate with friends, you can recite them as a call-and-response, or just read through as you present your loaf to the table.
For the gift of the grain, Anu, Danu,
For the sunshine and the rain, Anu, Danu,
For the sowing and the keeping, Anu, Danu,
For the harvest and the reaping, Anu, Danu,
May our spirits all be fed, Anu, Danu,
With the gift of your bread, Anu, Danu.
Wishing you all wonderful season, wherever you’re celebrating,
Blessings from the fruitfulness and constant renewal of the Grove, Penny /|\
* Find their CDs at www.nickomoandrasullah.com