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Jeff Lilly is a druid, linguist, and author of one of the most popular druid blogs, much to his surprise. He writes about druid things -- meditation, relationship with Spirit, soulful fulfillment in scholarship and art, reconnecting the ancient with the modern, creating beauty, and healing the world. He is a member of a number of druid organizations, including AODA, OWO, and OBOD, and does ritual rather ineptly but earnestly in the Pittsburgh, PA area with the Sycamore Circle. He lives with his partner Ali and her cat Cu.
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Spinning their eternal solitary dance in the endless void, the burning stars fall forever around the galaxy, dropping, as they go, a few precious photons into our eyes. Each tiny light-droplet is thousands, or millions, or billions of years old; and it has traveled almost six trillion miles in each of those years. Today an astronomer can catch such a precious photon on glass, place it under a microscope, and know how old its parent star is, how large, what elements are burning in its core, how fast and how hot it is burning, and how many years remain before the star collapses into ash, or explodes into a galaxy-blinding supernova.
Long ago, our ancestors looked at the stars and learned different things. They learned about themselves. Continue reading On Astrology, Ancient and Modern

(Hat tip to Cat Chapin-Bishop of Quaker Pagan Reflections for inspiration, discussion, and overall awesomeness as a human being.)
“Do not think that I came to bring peace on the earth; I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I came to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and a man’s enemies will be the members of his household.” — Jesus (Matthew 10:34)
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.
I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps,
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:
His day is marching on.
I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel:
“As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on.” — The Battle Hymn of the Republic, Julia Ward Howe, 1861
This weekend I was at the Feast of Lights, and heard a wonderful presentation by Andras Arthan on the last remnants of indigenous religions in Europe. As Arthan pointed out, European indigenous cultures were wiped out or absorbed by the Christian cross, starting with the Romans and carried forward by the various kingdoms that were born of the empire’s collapse. The European indigenous cultures were the first to succumb to the worldwide scourge of Western imperialism and corporitism that continues today. Arthan was unambiguous in his indictment: Christianity is to blame for these atrocities. And it was clear that many in his audience agreed with him. Continue reading The Christian Sword: Evil Christianity

Is fire a living thing? How about water?
When Bridget’s holiday comes, I always think of bright sunlight on water edged by snowy banks. She is the goddess of fire and water, fire on the water, fire that cracks the ice and brings the frozen world alive again.
Fire
The ancient Proto-Europeans apparently had two words for fire — one, paewr, an inanimate noun, for the physical manifestation in the world; and one, egni, animate, for the living force within it. Proto-Europeans would have referred to paewr as “it” and egni as “he/she”.
Paewr has descended into words such as fire, pyre, pyrite, and pyromania. Spiritually, pawer and pyr- indicate a point location of pure, expansive, creation energy. Germanic and English fire are the same, but add a sense of freedom and openness.
Egni was the root of a number of ancient gods and goddesses of fire, such as Vedic Agni; but today it survives only in ignite and derived forms like ignition. Spiritually this word focuses more on the grounding of the energy, the Source power that draws up the strength and directs it, channels it.
The name Bridget (and variants Bride, Brid, Brigid, Brighid, Brigantia) carries many of these same spiritual associations, although it is unrelated (it comes from a root meaning ’strength’). She is a burst of power, light and tense like a laser, but grounded and guided.
Water
Remarkably, the ancient Proto-Indo-Europeans also had two words for water — animate and inanimate, physical and spiritual.
Wed was in inanimate form, and descends today into water, wet, hydrate, undulation, Spanish aqua, Scottish whiskey, and Russian vodka. It is a word of directed willfulness, of untiring energy along a path, like a river or waterfall.
Ap was the animate form, and is the ultimate source of Latin piscis and English fish. Spiritually it might be likened to a small quiet spring, a simple point source of spirit.
Bridget’s name also echoes these watery words. The burst of power is related to the willfulness of water, and her energy is guided and directed like wed, but rooted like ap.
Some Say the World Will End in…
One thing that is striking about these pairs is how different the four words are. The two words for fire seem completely unrelated, as do the two words for water; it’s as if the spiritual and physical forms are utterly different concepts. If anything, the sounds of the words seem to group the two animate words (groundedness) against the two inanimate words (willfulness, power).
In the usual spiritual symbolism, fire and water are opposites, too. But from where I am standing in the frozen air of late January, fire and water are symbols of fluidity, flexibility, and life, while the earth is hard and dead, and air is a cold void. There is even a link between fire and frost — the words frozen and frost go back to Proto-Indo European preus, which meant both “freeze” and “burn”.
The essence of fire and water is somewhere in the intermix of the elements, not in each alone. This is no simple symbolism, but a web of interlocking words and meanings that reflect and refract each other like light on glass, like fire on ice.


In the winter woods the world is all black and white, branches and trunks and twigs crosshatching against the sky and snow. Here there are edges and limits: the white polyhedra of sky with hard black wooden frames, the unambiguous snowline between earth and heaven, the icy and unyielding tree bark, the frozen water, even the mucus building up in my esophagus to reinforce the boundary between me and the chilled air. The woods are drawn with pure black ink on pure white paper.
We walk out, listening to the silence enclosing the small sounds of our boots in the snow and the little whispers of wind. At the top of the hill, we can see the lights of the homes and streets through the trees, a sea of city surrounding an island of park. We are going down into the woods to meditate and connect with the new moon, the new sun, and the new year.
This is the shape of a world at its birth: simplicity, edges, purity. At the beginning of the universe, mass and energy were one, and the four forces were united into a single field, in a cosmic egg of such primal simplicity that it had no size, shape, or duration. And now, with the rebirth of the small, weak sun, the world is reduced to frozen waste punctuated by isolated chunks of hibernating life, each huddled alone against the cold.
Loneliness may not be pleasant, but it is simple. Continue reading Winter’s Woods
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For the whispering poet and enchanted naturalist that dwells within each of us...  Thoughts and experiences of a practicing Druid, writing from a place of connection, longing and curiosity about the sacredness of ordinary life.
Sky Earth Sea: A Journal of Practical Spirituality
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