Hearth Culture-A Celtic Perspective
Alright, this is an essay which I've just finished for the Dedicant Program of ADF, concerning what was supposed to be about the Hearth culture(s) we have chosen/accepted and practice. What it turned into though, was basically my life story- most of which I've never spoken about, it being so convoluted and sometimes angsty.
But I'm over it, now. Getting this out of my system is one of the most cathartic acts I've ever done; finishing the last word sent a real chill across me. Perhaps I needed to get it out and un-burden myself, before I can move on. Whatever the cause, here it is.
Searching out, discovering and implementing a cultural and religious focus, can sometimes take decades of pursuit. Speaking from personal experience, I very early on became drawn to the exotic religious culture of ancient Egypt; from my earliest childhood I've been quite certain of a previous life there, although I'm not so sure now, if it may be a remnant of psychic and collective knowledge, rather than a personal experience. Whatever the motivation, the search continued on, eventually leading to my own, very weak understanding of Wicca, in the late sixties and seventies. I chalk a lot up to immaturity and lack of adequate guidance and resources in those early days; myself being a young teen, raised quite isolated in a devout Roman Catholic household. It goes without saying, I was the "odd one out". As a teenager, I was extremely psychic. With a Zener deck that my wonderful Dad allowed me to purchase, I would "see" correctly, card after card, even scaring myself at times. And the dreams! I was about fifteen when I first experienced astral travel, completely un-bidden. I had just awakened, but before I could rise, I felt myself floating gently up and down, surrounded by alternating bands of light and shadow. I could feel myself drifting "into" one of these bands, and though I saw nothing but darkness, I started to hear the voices of my elder sister (in college, nearly a hundred miles away) and of my Mother, talking. It got louder and I could hear every inflection; even a coughing spell that my sister had. The conversation involved my eldest sister (by eleven years) who lived in California, being arrested in a major anti-war rally, held there. The voices started to fade away and when I arose, I found myself alone at home. Several hours later though, my parents came back from visiting in her new dorm room. It was the next evening when my folks and I went out to eat, that I broached the subject. You cannot even imagine the stunned, and scared look on their faces, when I answered Moms question, "how did you know?!" Forks literally, dropped.
Cutting to the chase, so to speak, I started to scare myself silly, which led to my eventual renunciation of the Occult and "conversion" to Catholicism. I became so intensely religious, that at age nineteen, entered a Discalced Carmelite monastery, down in the boondocks of south Texas. One year later, my Dad died. When the phone rang, we were in chapel, sitting as we did on the floor, legs folded underneath (excruciating, but adequate for a temporary martyrdom). I knew who was calling and why, so without any reserve at all, almost robotically, stood up, quietly broke ranks and went to answer it. We never did this- EVER! What shocked the whole Community, was that the extern Sister (who did any phone answering), appeared right there in the chapel doorway in front of me, nervously telling me that I had an important phone call from my Mother. I left that very day, despite the pleas and protest of my Novice Mistress and Mother Prioress.
Another attempt at community life found me, a year later, with the Franciscan sisters of Monterey, California.
A three year "stint" proved to me though, that this was also not my calling.
In 1992, I realized after a horrific and nearly deadly attack by my own spouse, that the only thing I could really count on in life, was Nature. Whether fair or foul, Nature was and will always be my true Home. It is always there for healing and for peace.
Beginning (again, and yet for the first time), with Wicca, I learned to accept myself as I am: not fractionally as psychic as I once was, but deeply spiritual, willing to learn and with the patience to grow into myself.
Though I began as a Kemetic Wiccan; solitary, as usual, I've come back to my Ancestral roots, in re-claiming the Scots-Irish of my birth. I've bonded with my Patrons and by utilizing serious research and the attention to detail which Celtic/Gàidhlig Reconstruction entails, have become immersed, so to say, in this stream of wisdom.
My path has been a wandering maze, at times clouded and unsure, but certainly never aimless. My path has finally brought me home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
P.S. I just looked at the date on the monitor and realized that it was my Dads birthday; he would have been 104, today. I can feel him right over my shoulder now and know that at Samhain, he'll be with us again.
But I'm over it, now. Getting this out of my system is one of the most cathartic acts I've ever done; finishing the last word sent a real chill across me. Perhaps I needed to get it out and un-burden myself, before I can move on. Whatever the cause, here it is.
Searching out, discovering and implementing a cultural and religious focus, can sometimes take decades of pursuit. Speaking from personal experience, I very early on became drawn to the exotic religious culture of ancient Egypt; from my earliest childhood I've been quite certain of a previous life there, although I'm not so sure now, if it may be a remnant of psychic and collective knowledge, rather than a personal experience. Whatever the motivation, the search continued on, eventually leading to my own, very weak understanding of Wicca, in the late sixties and seventies. I chalk a lot up to immaturity and lack of adequate guidance and resources in those early days; myself being a young teen, raised quite isolated in a devout Roman Catholic household. It goes without saying, I was the "odd one out". As a teenager, I was extremely psychic. With a Zener deck that my wonderful Dad allowed me to purchase, I would "see" correctly, card after card, even scaring myself at times. And the dreams! I was about fifteen when I first experienced astral travel, completely un-bidden. I had just awakened, but before I could rise, I felt myself floating gently up and down, surrounded by alternating bands of light and shadow. I could feel myself drifting "into" one of these bands, and though I saw nothing but darkness, I started to hear the voices of my elder sister (in college, nearly a hundred miles away) and of my Mother, talking. It got louder and I could hear every inflection; even a coughing spell that my sister had. The conversation involved my eldest sister (by eleven years) who lived in California, being arrested in a major anti-war rally, held there. The voices started to fade away and when I arose, I found myself alone at home. Several hours later though, my parents came back from visiting in her new dorm room. It was the next evening when my folks and I went out to eat, that I broached the subject. You cannot even imagine the stunned, and scared look on their faces, when I answered Moms question, "how did you know?!" Forks literally, dropped.
Cutting to the chase, so to speak, I started to scare myself silly, which led to my eventual renunciation of the Occult and "conversion" to Catholicism. I became so intensely religious, that at age nineteen, entered a Discalced Carmelite monastery, down in the boondocks of south Texas. One year later, my Dad died. When the phone rang, we were in chapel, sitting as we did on the floor, legs folded underneath (excruciating, but adequate for a temporary martyrdom). I knew who was calling and why, so without any reserve at all, almost robotically, stood up, quietly broke ranks and went to answer it. We never did this- EVER! What shocked the whole Community, was that the extern Sister (who did any phone answering), appeared right there in the chapel doorway in front of me, nervously telling me that I had an important phone call from my Mother. I left that very day, despite the pleas and protest of my Novice Mistress and Mother Prioress.
Another attempt at community life found me, a year later, with the Franciscan sisters of Monterey, California.
A three year "stint" proved to me though, that this was also not my calling.
In 1992, I realized after a horrific and nearly deadly attack by my own spouse, that the only thing I could really count on in life, was Nature. Whether fair or foul, Nature was and will always be my true Home. It is always there for healing and for peace.
Beginning (again, and yet for the first time), with Wicca, I learned to accept myself as I am: not fractionally as psychic as I once was, but deeply spiritual, willing to learn and with the patience to grow into myself.
Though I began as a Kemetic Wiccan; solitary, as usual, I've come back to my Ancestral roots, in re-claiming the Scots-Irish of my birth. I've bonded with my Patrons and by utilizing serious research and the attention to detail which Celtic/Gàidhlig Reconstruction entails, have become immersed, so to say, in this stream of wisdom.
My path has been a wandering maze, at times clouded and unsure, but certainly never aimless. My path has finally brought me home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
P.S. I just looked at the date on the monitor and realized that it was my Dads birthday; he would have been 104, today. I can feel him right over my shoulder now and know that at Samhain, he'll be with us again.