Monday, October 27, 2014


“The fables of Witchcraft have taken so fast hold and deep rooted in the heart of man, that if any adversity, grief, sickness, loss of children, corn, cattle or liberty happen unto them, by and by they exclaim upon Witches!”

The Discoverie of Witchcraft, Reginald Scott, 1584

By Halloween, the Sun God has long since been sacrificed and put to rest with the last sheaf of grain. Time is turning in upon itself and the dark night of the year begins. The Moon is the ruler of this abysmal darkness and in her wan glow all manner of beings walk, most especially on Halloween night: the dead, imbued with unsanctified life, walk abroad in the company of demons, vampires, ghouls and other sinister spirits.

Witches, too, it was long believed, were out in force upon this Night of Nights to welcome the Witch’s New Year in perfect fashion. When the last golden glow of the setting Autumn sun faded, witches would take to the air riding upon broomsticks, spades, or butter churns, on the backs of airborne goats or huge black cats, some even upon the backs of flying pigs, all en route to the celebration of the Great Sabbat of Samhain. This supernatural traffic was known as the “Hallowmas Rades,” and all good folk who did not want to fall prey to the depredations of evil spirits or the unhallowed dead – or to experience the unimaginable fate of being swept up into the rade itself, transformed into some conveyance of a witch’s transport! – were safe inside their locked and darkened homes. 
The peoples of the classical world, and those scattered across the wide, wild country of early Europe, knew the witch to be a fearsome figure, whether in the guise of the village midwife, a secretive low-order cleric, or the cunning old woman, known and avoided by all. In any form, the witch was the personification of the ancient Crone of Death, the Dark Goddess of the Night of the Year. This powerful being commanded and drew her power from the moon, and met with her faithful devotees in lonely, forlorn places to practice rituals of enormous antiquity in honor of the Old Ones, the chthonic titans who ruled unchallenged long ago. Unnamed and faceless, grim shadows on the edges of imagination and reason, who were these ancient beings who commanded the Sisterhood of Witches from time immemorial, and for whom many had happily committed all manner of dark deeds, even unto death? 
Those midnight hags of folklore and legend were all personifications of the same dark side of the Feminine Divine. Mistresses of magic, weavers of dreams, spinners of fate, harbingers of doom, these Dark Goddesses were the hags of night to whom witches, then and now, swore honor and servitude. A mighty pantheon, they are the Dark Crone manifestation of the great Triple Goddess, she who rules Death and the dark paths of the Abyss, whose face is the dark all-knowing moon and whose womb is the yawning maw of the grave.



“Agency of Ineffable Name and Vast Strength! Ancient, Dark One!  Thou cold, barren, mournful and pernicious! Thou Whose word is as stone and Whose life is abiding! Thou Ancient and Alone Impenetrable One! Bringer of ruin and despair: Be present here and lend Thy aid!”
Hecate – sometimes called Hekate or Heket – was born of the fecund and primordial Dark Mother of the Abyss, the Cthonic night goddess Nyx. A Titan Goddess of the Greek pantheon who, as a helpmeet to Zeus aided in his defeat of the Gigante, Hecate was absorbed into the Olympic myths and legends where she was allowed to keep traces of her Titanic status. Yet her true nature – one of unassailable power in a female form – was so threatening to the patriarchal mindset of the ancient Greeks that they were constantly at a loss over how to classify her in a pantheon dominated by male gods. Bewildered, the Greeks ultimately found it necessary to diffuse Hecate’s primal, darkly-feminine power by subordinating her to the profundity of the Olympian Hades, and marginalizing her in legends populated with lesser gods, demi-gods, and daimonic spirits. Eventually, Hecate was relegated to a servile being tasked with illuminated the paths of the Underworld where, with the light of her triple torches, she became a guide of the newly-dead.

In this manifestation, Hecate the Mighty Crone of the Moon, became little more than a help-meet of Persephone, a lesser-goddess abducted by Hades to rule as queen of his underworld kingdom. In fact, Persephone in her role of Hadean queen, was assigned some of the aspects and powers originally associated with Hecate’s own dark divinity. It is Hecate, bearing the single light in the impenetrable darkness of the underworld, who leads Persephone to reunion each spring with her mother Demeter; and it is she who comes to claim Persephone at the cusp of winter, the dark night of the year. In this serviceable position of gatekeeper, Hecate was often depicted as a creature of the moon, adorned with a crown of stars and bearing a torch that burns eternally. Thus “tamed,” Hecate entered the later Eleusinian rites of birth, death, and rebirth.

In succeeding ages, witches who honored and served Hecate quickly recognized this particular portion of her mythology for what it was: the deliberate effort of the Greeks to suppress her Chthonic, primal power, a power they could never hope to tap or understand. In fact, it wasn’t until the early Middle Ages, that Hecate’s true origins and native power were finally separated from the ancient myth. Oddly enough, it was the scholars and clerics of the early Christian Church who, preoccupied with enumerating and accounting for every angel and spirit of good, as well as every demon and spirit of evil, unmasked the historical Hecate for who she truly is: the imposing Crone Goddess, Queen of Witches and High Priestess of the Hallowmas Sabbat. Perhaps not unexpectedly, this realization frightened the scribes and clerics of the “new” religion and made them easy prey to their own fears and prejudices. The result was that Hecate was again marginalized, and she became the Ugly Hag, the very worst manifestation of the evil of witchcraft preached so vehemently by the early Church. Like Lilith before her, Hecate was aligned with Satan, that great enemy of humankind who is ever laboring to entice Christians from the Godly path; a female devil working her evil upon the world through the sly and crafty wiles of women, with whom she was most obviously aligned. Such connections were yet more subtle denouements on the part of a patriarchal priesthood attempting to lessen her profound and singularly feminine power by portraying her in servitude to God’s true enemy (and another patriarchal power), Satan.

But although she was suppressed and reimagined by generations stretching back into the mists of a primordial past, Hecate was never forgotten by the sisterhood of womankind; nor was she ever completely obscured from those who sought her out. To these kind she was the Goddess of Death and Darkness, She Who Devours the Light; Mother of Witches; Mistress of Magic; Foul Mother of Corpses. As Guardian of the Crossroads she was Hecate Trevia, Hecate of the Three Ways; as Queen of Necromancy she was Nocticula, and every secret way was known to her; as Queen of the Dead she was known as Prytania; as Goddess of the Moon, she was the Crone who followed on past the Mother, completing the Circle so that it might begin anew; as night-raider from the depths of the Underworld, she was called Agriope, the Savage-Faced. A cosmic being, a Chthonian Titan, she was part of the most ancient embodiment of the All-Powerful Triade Goddess, and her very name meant “eater of light.” Guardian and Mistress of burial grounds, crossroads, and other in-between places, she was associated with commanding the passages between the material and unseen worlds; she allows spirits to travel to and from the astral world, and is there among other spirits to welcome the newly-dead to their home on the other side. Her aspect as a fertility goddess, touched upon in the ancient Eleusinian rites, is highly sexualized, and lust and licentiousness are said to be the marks of Hecate’s influence. Similarly, she sometimes haunts the dreams of men in the form of a powerful succubus, another aspect connecting her to ancient Lilith; sometimes she uses dreams to communicate symbols, messages, and prophecies to the world of humankind.

Wild animals, especially those with nocturnal habits, are sacred to Hecate. In classical times, it was not uncommon to see Hecate depicted as having three animal heads – that of a dog, a horse, and a bear. However, her primary familiar is the black dog. Her approach at the borders of our world is heralded by the wild howling and baying of her hell hounds, packs of huge black dogs that accompany her and draw her chariot – which is constructed of human bones – into the world of the unsuspecting living. Hecate was also accompanied by enormous black cats that prowled about, snatching in silence the victims trampled under the feet of the howling hounds; not surprisingly, black cats, perhaps descended from Hecate’s own pack, are today the most recognizable of all the witch’s familiars. Sometimes Hecate appeared in the three-headed form by which many adherents of the ancient rites worshipped her; sometimes she was seen as an almost-unbearably beautiful woman, naked, with long, flowing black hair and eyes that burned with a seduction, baleful light. At other times, she delighted in appearing as the withered hag, with a face that could strike terror to the heart or bring instant death to the foolish and unwary.

When Hecate raided the world of the living she brought in her wake legions of her armies of the dead – pale, skeletal wraiths in tattered shrouds and showing the various stages of decomposition and death. In some traditions Hecate’s legions were comprised of the unholy and evil dead, and those spirits who in warfare or in the full bloom of an evil life. Her captains and commanders rode upon skeletal black horses, and her armies followed close behind, a writhing, gibbering mass that smelled of a thousand open graves.

Witches seek Hecate at crossroads and in ancient groves or empty fields, desolate and open to the night sky. When in her aspect as Queen of Witches, Hecate sometimes crosses over less furiously, choosing instead to walk the roads and byways on All Hallow’s Ever as a mature woman, clad in yards of black, carrying a torch or cresset lamp to light her way, with her faithful black dog padding along beside her. For those witches who seek her, she will be found waiting under the spreading branches of a black poplar tree, or under the tendrils of the willow; the cypress and the yew – both of which are said to root in the mouths of the dead – are the trees most sacred to the Crone Goddess.

In her aspect as Goddess of death and the cycle of rebirth, it is said by witches that Hecate is the Goddess to call upon when you seek to honor the end of a cycle in your life, or to mourn another’s passing, or when you wish to lose something of yourself.



"You who sow discord, where are you? You who infuse hate and propagate enmities, I direct, conjure, and constrain you! By the Dark One, come!"

Morrighan, sometimes also “The Morrighan,” is the triad Irish Goddess of War, Destruction and Strife, whose name means “Queen of Phantoms.” A death and fertility goddess, Morrighan is also associated with the Otherworld and the Sea, which in Gaelic folklore is a symbol of the realm of the dead and the eternal womb of the Mother Goddess. Morrighan appears as a trio of goddess, personifying each of her aspects: Neman is the aspect of fertility; Mabd is the aspect of the mother; and Macha, the Crone of Death.
Neman was the prophetess of calamity. Neman typically appears first as Gaelic maiden washing clothes beside a river or ford. A closer look, however, reveals the water as a thick, undulating mist, and the maiden as a pale, forlorn woman; her arms, busy washing, are red to the elbows with blood, and the clothes are the bloodied garments of soldiers destined to die in battle. Obviously, a sighting of this goddess before a battle was frightening and disheartening in the extreme. Witches called upon Neman for strength through the trials of life and for the birth of sons strong enough to survive the tumults and battles of the world.
Mabd was known as the Mother of Lamentations, and is often associated with the “bean sidhe,” the “banshee” of Gaelic folklore. Like her sisters, Mabd was drawn by the energy of discord and battle, but she also thrived on grief, which she celebrated in a terrible ecstasy. Mabd could be seen moving as a black mist over battlefields, pausing here and there to harvest the spirits of the dying. As she performed her tragic duty, Mabd cried and wailed for the carnage committed against the Gaelic dead. But the cry of Mabd was not just the hopeless cry of mourning; it was a sharp keening, a lilting ululation of inconsolable despair that sliced at the hearts of the living unfortunate enough to overhear. Mabd’s cry, it was said, was the wailing and moaning of all the grief ever spilled by the mothers of the Gaels whose sons met the doom of death in treachery or battle. Mothers and wide women identified with this aspect of the Morrighan for comfort and consolation when their sons were fighting for strangers far from home.
The third aspect of the Morrighan was rightfully the most feared: she is Macha, the Crone of Death, the reaping woman, haunter of burying grounds and battlefields. In times of war, Macha would appear upon the battlefield, wild, black hair flying in a matted tangle of blood and flesh; her face was hard as stone, darkly beautiful but ghastly, with full, blood-stained lips, and set with jet-black eyes, carrion eyes, like those of the crows whose feathers adorned her majestic cloak. Macha could be seen (by those brave enough to look) moving across the fields, hunched and swaying, as if entranced by every mutilated body and bloated face. Sometimes she would climb to the tops of the death mounds, where the fallen were piled for cremation. Those dead of the side whom she had favored in the conflict were said to appear as if only sleeping; these were carefully removed, to be interred with all honors in the great burial mounds of their kinsmen. But those whom Macha had set her powers against lay strewn in scrambled heaps across the fields, as the crows, Macha’s servants, went about the work of their mistress. The heads of enemy leaders – especially if these were of noble blood – were chopped off and impaled upon stakes in a rings around the death mounds – a battlefield offering to the Gaelic Crone of Death. These fences were known as the Masts of Macha, and were left standing long after the mounds of ruined dead had been reduced to ashes, and the elements had withered the flesh away.
This third, hag aspect of the Morrighan was the most terrifying and fearsome of the goddess triad. The fact that Macha could, at will, replicate herself, producing sinister daughters (called “Morrighna”) that frequently took the forms of crows and ravens – sometimes even appearing as huge, black hounds – was as discomfiting to those whom she favored as it was to those she marked as enemies.
In all her manifestations, Morrighan is a goddess for fierce and independent woman. Witches the world over call upon her to put down enemies, to exact vengeance, and to conquer one’s own fears; she is a force of waning and new moon magic, of binding and banishing, of strafing and cursing. Her symbols are the moon’s waning crescent; the crow and the raven; the gemstones obsidian, onyx, and jet; the yew tree; and poisonous herbs such as deadly nightshade, henbane, and belladonna. Symbols of war such as spears, swords, daggers, bows and arrows, lances, and flails greatly please her, and are appropriate offerings to make when invoking her power.


"Twist and tangle, never to rise up again! Your eyes are dimmed, your limbs are bound! Thus I lay you down to rest, still and silent in the ground!”

In the Teutonic and Norse myths, Hel (also called Hell or Hella) is the youngest child of the god Loki and the giantess Angurboda. She is the Queen of Hell and also rules the realm of the dead.

Hel is usually described as a horrible hag with a grim countenance, but some tales give her a beautiful, alluring face. But her body is said to be only half humanlike – her face and torso – with the thighs, genitals and legs of a rotting, moldering corpse. Hel was confined to the underworld by the other gods who greatly feared the offspring of Loki and she made her home there, founding Helheim, “The House of Hel” in the cold, dark reaches of the Niflheim, the lowest level of the universe. From her throne in her palace of Sleetcold, Hel abides over the “dishonored” Norse dead – those who have died of disease or old age, and those not killed in battle. While the honored dead who sacrificed all on the battlefield are sent to Valhalla to live among the gods, these others, the common dead, come under the ghastly eye of this Queen of the Damned.

There is no pathway in her kingdom that is not known to Hel or her minions; sheer, impassable walls surround her realm, as much to keep the dead in as to keep the living out. The Niflheim is entered through a dark, foul-smelling cave and Hel’s palace can only be reached by passing over the Echoing Bridge, a treacherous, knife-edge that leads over a yawning abyss and into the land of death. Souls are assaulted by Hel’s spirit guardians on their passage of the bridge, and must fight to gain entry to her kingdom. Those who fail are consumed by Hel’s great hound, Garm, who lays in wait at the bottom of the abyss; the hound also destroys any living trespassers foolish enough to venture into the underworld. Souls that escape with only mauling by Garm fare no better than those the hound devours: they are said to be placed as a feast on Hel’s Plate (called “Hunger”) from which she will slowly consume them. The wicked dead are thrown into Hel’s cauldron where they are boiled as a meal for a monster called Nidhoggr (the “Corpse Tearer”) that prowls the farthest reaches of Hel’s kingdom, and punishes the wicked by eternally gnawing on their shredded flesh and bones. The Corpse Tearer is said to manifest as a great, black carrion bird; when he flaps his wings in his lair, the winds of the world are tormented into gales and storms. Hel is served in her kingdom by spirit-beings who are so slow that they seem not to be moving at all; Hel sates her plate of Hunger with the knife of Famine. When she retires, Hel sleeps upon a bed called “Sickness,” behind shroud-like curtains made from Misery and Misfortune.

Witches historically called upon Hel for retribution and vengeance, as well as for help in situation of grief and sickness, especially if the sickness involves a child. All carrion birds, but most especially the eagle, the raven, and vulture, are kin to this horrible night hag; deep valleys, caves, desolate lands, remote lakes and ponds of still or stagnant water are her places of evocation. Bridges are also aligned with Hel, and in the northern lands there was never a bridge constructed that did not rise over a sacrificial offering to Hel – typically an infant, which was bled out and buried under the very first stone.





"There was an old woman toss'd up in a basket
Nineteen times high as the moon;
Where she was going, I couldn't but ask it,
For in her hand she carried a broom."
The word “Baba” means “grandmother” in Russian and is a term of affection and respect in the Slavic countries of Eastern Europe. Baba Yaga, literally “Grandmother Crone,” is the archetypical representation of the hag or dark crone aspect of the Triple Goddess and the moon.
Far from being a sweet old grandmother, Baba Yaga is widely feared among the peoples of Eastern Europe for her fierce, hag-like countenance, bleary eyes and ragged, toothless grin. Baba Yaga lives in a hut perched high atop a huge chicken leg in the darkest part of a deep forest. The fence around her hut is made of human bones, and its posts are topped with human skulls in which crows have made their homes, peering steadily from the empty, black orbits of the skulls’ eyes. When Baba Yaga goes hunting, she is said to travel through the air in a mortar, using the pestle as an oar and trailing a besom, or broom behind her to sweep away her tracks. Solitary and alone, but ever hungry, few would dare approach the formidable trees of Baba Yaga’s dark forest realm.
Baba Yaga has many supernatural servants at her command, including four ghostly knights: a white knight who is the bringer of dawn, a red knight who is the noon day sun, a grey knight who is the evening gloaming, and a black knight who is the midnight darkness. These colors are said to symbolize the process of transformation – life, death, and rebirth – that Baba Yaga brings to her victims: black for the destruction of the body, grey for the sojourn of the soul, white for its purification, and red for the rebirth when, like a Phoenix, the soul re-enters the cycle of life. Grandmother Crone is seen simply as one agent aiding the process along, part of the inevitable end and transformation of life in the material world. Because of this duty, Baba Yaga is said to always choose her victims carefully, and she never takes any without purpose.
Grandmother Crone also has in her service many dwarves and gnomes, earth elementals whom she controls and whose movements she directs in the world of humankind. These servants are her minions and can do evil or good according to Baba Yaga’s whim. Baba Yaga flies around the world in her airborne mortar once daily, accompanied by her elementals riding upon flying horses. On this ride, she points out those marked as her unwitting victims, ordering her earthy servants to render them her helpless prey.
Baba Yaga is typically summoned by mature witches seeking to overcome the challenges of advancing years such as depression, loneliness, and a desolation of purpose or spirit; Grandmother Crone is very sympathetic to such cases. Her haggard, crone aspect and frightening demeanor force us to look at ourselves as if in a magic mirror, and urges us to seek solace for what is gone and to work out new beginnings. Baba Yaga is honored both at Lammastide (August 1st) a time of letting go of the past, and at Samhain, our Halloween, a time of turning inward and allowing those parts of ourselves that no longer serve us to peacefully die away. Baba Yaga is also associated with the home, especially the kitchen, and she is a favorite patron of kitchen witches and grune-hexe (“hedge” or “garden” witches. Domestic tasks, even the most mundane, are aligned with her, as are the herbal arts and “cook’s” garden. Baba Yaga’s symbols are household items such as brooms and besoms, the mortar and pestle, and the cauldron; her dark-side symbols are anything found in the earth, crystals and stones (the “holy-stone,” a stone found in which a natural hole has formed), skulls, and night-side plants or flowers gathered during a dark moon.
"We are planted beneath the land, forever to wheel - as the Earth
and Sun are wound upon a golden reel;
as the ripening grasses stand, and pale, and fall."

Cailleach, the Crone of the Celts, has been known since Neolithic times, in many incarnations, and by various names: the Blue Hag, the Boar Goddess, the Owl Goddess, the Ancient One. She followed mankind as he emerged from the darkness of the primordial days, and has survived through all the long ages since. Probably originating among the peoples of Europe, Cailleach’s worship spread to the early Gaels and then on to ancient Britain and Ireland, where she was adopted by the Celts. She later became known to all the peoples surrounding the North Sea, as well as southward along the Mediterranean coast where she went by other names. All these early peoples blended many of Cailleach’s known aspects into a goddess whose nature expressed the extremes of human emotions: love, hate, fear, joy, melancholy – all were believed to be entwined in the nature of this goddess. Translated into modern Gaelic, Cailleach means “old wife,” but in its earliest Celtic translation, Cailleach’s name meant “one who is veiled,” possibly alluding to Cailleach’s dark goddess aspect as a being who could walk in the worlds of both the living and the dead.
By any name, Cailleach has always been associated with winter and the dark, sleeping season of nature. In this aspect, reflecting as it does the most brutal season of the year, Cailleach has been depicted as an old hag with boar’s tusks protruding from a blue mouth; at other times she was shown as a one-eyed, blue-faced woman of enormous size, carrying a staff made of birch wood, and leaping across mountains like a child among stones. Wherever she passes, the land is left blanketed in silence and frost; if she so desires, the Cailleach can use her wand to stir up storms.
Witches connect with this goddess as the governess of solitude and dreams, and the deeply-rooted longings of the subconscious mind are her domain. Rugged hillsides and barren moors are her special places, and deer – most especially the reindeer of the Nordic lands – are the animals most sacred to her. Cailleach is the goddess who protects wildlife from despoiling by hunters, but will reward those huntsmen respectful of nature and seeking food for their families in the difficult season of winter with sacrifices from among her own herds. In addition to deer, mountain goats, wild boars, bears, and wild, undomesticated cattle are all under her dominion; likewise, Cailleach protects and preserves wild fish through the winter by drawing them into the deep currents of rivers and streams until the worst of the season has passed.
White birch branches, intricately carved, and white stones washed in cold river water are appropriate offerings to honor Cailleach; images of deer, bears, fish, and the other animals sacred to the Cailleach are carried as talismans of the goddess by those who seek to honor her.
Cailleach is especially loved among the Scots who call her the “Grandmother of the Clans,” and the “Old Woman of the Highlands.” She is beloved as the protector and nurturer of the forefathers of the most ancient clans, who have called upon her in times of trouble and strife for generations upon generations. Throughout the British Isles, Cailleach is honored on her own special day, called the "Day of the Old Woman," celebrated annually on November 1st. A similar celebration takes place on February 1st (Old Style Candlemas, or the pagan Imbolc) during which Cailleach is welcomed as the transformed goddess of spring, bride-to-be of the summer's Sun King.
"O Mother feed this silver seed, that I might see a child like thee."
Cerridwen is the winter goddess of the Welsh people. She is a goddess of the crone moon, and as such she is connected to the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. She tends the cauldron of Awen, the Welsh god of the underworld, wherein is hidden the secret knowledge of the souls who are passing from life, and those souls waiting to be born.
The Welsh believe Cerridwen to be queen of her own realm, an island kingdom known as the “Land Beneath the Waves,” and through this connection she also has powers over the sea and tides. It is said that the souls of the dead are shepherded by Cerridwen to her domain where they linger and forget the pains and failings of the life they have left behind. When the time of their rebirth arrives, Cerridwen is the goddess who guides these souls back to the threshold of the living world.
Cerridwen is also closely connected to the cycles of planting and harvest, and plays a prominent role in Welsh harvest festivals. In this aspect, she is also a powerful ally in fertility rites, and is said to especially favor the children born of mature women, or of those women believed to be past the accepted age of childbirth.
Witches call upon Cerridwen to empower earth and fertility magic, for the protection and aid of mothers and mothers-to-be, and for help in guiding mature women to a suitable partner. Cerridwen’s symbols and talismans are the hare and the white sow; laying hens and their eggs; apples, gourds, grains and nuts; and the herb vervain, also called “witch’s grass.” The Welsh traditionally celebrate the goddess in all her aspects each year on the 13th of July.
“For Earth has her Mysteries, and if you mock their wealth,
She will offer you a deep grave, garlanded with Death.”

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Friday, September 5, 2014



According to the Old Style calendar reckonings, August 1st is the true first day of Autumn. This day - the day of Lughnasadh, the Lammastide of the old Anglo-Saxons - belongs to the lunar-reckoning of the Celts, who halved their year into only summer and winter, and tallied their days from sunset to sunset. Lammastide is the cross-year partner of Imbolc - old Candlemas, celebrated on February 1st - and derives its Celtic name, Lughnasadh, from its connection to the Irish god Lugh.
In Irish tradition, the ancient festival of “first fruits” celebrated around the first of August, coincides with the death of Lugh’s foster-mother, Tailtiu. The god decreed that ever after the first day of that month should be kept sacred to her memory, and the kings of Tara followed suit, ordering that “all Ireland” assemble and gather on this sacred day to assure the continued well-being of the land. The date also held a dual significance to the ancient Irish for it was the day when the warlike Fir Bolg – Tailtiu’s people – invaded the island realm; this alone would have assured its significance in the Celtic mindset.
The Anglo-Saxons commemorated the day set aside by Lugh as Lammas – literally “loaf-mass” – in honor of the first bread made from the newly-cut grain. Other harvests might start in September, and in some areas of Europe the entire harvest may not even be brought in until the last days of October, but swift-growing corn was eagerly reaching for the sun by the first of August, and was therefore the first to be brought down.
In pagan beliefs, the harvest was directly connected to the seasonal death of the consort of the Earth, the Green Man of the Summer now transformed into the Harvest King; and the festival celebrating this event held great significance across the ancient world. The people of Roman Gaul – the remaining Celts of continental Europe – were observed coming together at the beginning of August to honor their god Lugus; later the Romans imitated the Gauls, transforming the event into a harvest festival celebrating their god-Emperor Augustus, and ultimately attaching his name to the month as "August." Similar harvest celebrations were held across the ancient world, from the forests of Germany to the islands of Greece. The Welsh call the month “Awst”; in Gaelic it is named “An Lugnasda” (“the month of Lughnasadh”).
Harvesting continued throughout September, the seventh month of the Roman calendar, named for the Latin “septum” or, simply, “seven.” In Gaelic, September is “An Sultuine,” the month of plenty.” The Welsh call it “Medi,” for “reaping,” and so significant was the harvest to the Anglo-Saxons that they called it “Halegmonath” or, “holy month.” 
The Spirit-In-The-Sheaf
As the harvest came to an end, the focus shifted to the last portion of the field left standing, for this was the place where the spirit of the grain had taken refuge, and as such, it possessed a highly-potent power. The reapers would approach this patch with great reverence and work until the last stalk was left standing; then from this stalk they would pull the last sheaf of the harvest, and fashion it into a human figure, known as the "Spirit-In-The-Sheaf."
Depending upon the prevailing beliefs of the community, the Spirit-In-The-Sheaf could be seen as old or young. If old, this conveyed a sense of maturity or ripeness, and the spirit might be deemed to have an affinity with the Harvest Mother, the Goddess of the Grain. If the spirit was believed to be young, it might be viewed as a “maiden” or even as an infant child, a “kirn-baby” who has been delivered from the womb of its mother, its cord severed by the last stroke of the harvest scythe. This spirit, and the figure fashioned from the grain to represent it were to play a significant role in the processions and celebrations of Harvest Home.
The festival of Harvest Home, known to pagans as Mabon, was celebrated at the time of the Autumnal Equinox around September 23rd. It marked the time when the full harvest, now matured, could be gathered in, or brought “home,” as part of preparations for the challenges of the fast-approaching winter. Communities marked this seasonal passage with dancing and suppers that had about them the sense of "turning inward" that was overtaking the wider world.

The spirit of the grain, be it Mother or Maiden, was always given a place of honor in the celebrations of Harvest Home, as was the sheaf fashioned to mimic the spirit. Seeds from this sheaf might be mixed with the next year’s seed crop, or kept in a special place to be scattered with the first sowing of the following spring. Or the sheaf might be kept in a place of honor in the home throughout the dearth of winter until Yule, when it would be broken apart and shared among the livestock to make cattle thrive in the new year, or to ensure the safe birth of the new spring foals. A Mother sheaf that had been fashioned to look like a pregnant woman might even be gifted to a farmer’s wife at Harvest Home to make her fertile through the winter that she might bear a child in the new year.
St. Michael and the Balance Between
The Autumn Equinox of September 23rd coincides with the astrological progression into the sign of Libra, appropriately symbolized by the scales. A few days later, on the 29th, is Michaelmas, the Feast of St. Michael, who was traditionally charged with weighing the good deeds of the dead against their transgressions in life. 
Michael’s connection to the universal scales and his placement at the Autumn Equinox, is not insignificant, for he stands at the Gateway to Winter, to October and November, the little seasons of the dead, and just within sight of the dark heart of the year.

"There was a door to which I found no key,
There was a veil past which I could not see;
Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee  . . .
And then no more of Thee and Me."
From, “The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam,” Fitzgerald, 1859


September 17th

Hildegard of Bingen was a Catholic mystic and visionary whose reputation as a prophetess earned her the title of “Sibyl of the Rhine.”

Born at Bockelheim in 1098, not much is known of her early life. According to legends, she was the daughter of an illustrious Bavarian family and rightly ought to have been distinguished as a Countess; but Hildegard was a sickly child and as a result received little education at home. Early in her life her parents promised her to the Church, and at the age of eight she was placed in the care of Jutta of Meginhard, the Abbess of a reclusive order of nuns who lived on Mount Disibod in the diocese of Speyer. Here again, because of a lingering sickness that frequently made her unable to walk and often even to see, Hildegard received only little formal instruction. She was taught to read and to sing the Latin songs sufficient for chanting the Divine Office, but she never learned to write. Eventually she took the habit of St. Benedict and committed to the religious life; when Jutta died in 1136, Hildegard was appointed a Superior of her Order.

Numerous aspirants flocked to her community and, impelled by what she described as a “Divine command,” around 1148 Hildegard decided to move the community to a new location. She chose Rupertsberg near Bingen on the banks of the Rhine River, and after overcoming many difficulties and obtaining the patronage of the governing lord, Count Bernard of Hildesheim, Hildegard settled into her new convent with eighteen other sisters. The community was successful and around 1165 she founded another convent at Eibingen on the opposite side of the river.

There is nothing in these rudimentary beginnings to indicate the extraordinary life Hildegard would eventually lead. From her earliest years she received visions, but soon learned to keep these revelations to herself:

“Up to my fifteenth year I saw much, and related some of the things seen to others who would inquire with astonishment whence such things might come.  I also wondered . . . a great fear befell me.  Frequently, in my conversation, I would relate future things, which I saw as if present, but noting the amazement of my listeners, I became more reticent.”

Hildegard managed to conceal her visionary gifts until, at around forty years of age, she received a command to make known to the world what she had long seen and heard. Though long-convinced that her revelations were of a Divine nature, Hildegard naturally hesitated, fearing what others, and especially the Church, might think or surmise. But the inner voice continued to speak to her, alternately urging and rebuking, and even threatening her until at last she unburdened herself to her spiritual advisor and through him to the Abbot governing her community. He in turn ordered a monk to attend Hildegard and to put into writing the nature and character of her revelations; some of her nuns also assisted her. The resulting records were ultimately presented to the Bishop of Mainz who pronounced them as coming from God. Other bishops from the dioceses of Trier, Cluny, and Verdun, also investigated and made favorable reports.

The visions continued, and Hildegard’s writings were circulated. Crowds of faithful flocked to her from all parts of Germany and Gaul to hear her wisdom and advice, and to receive help with spiritual and physical ailments. Not only the common people but also many men and women of nobility and officers of both Church and State were drawn to Hildegard by reports of her enlightenment and sanctity. Hildegard is also credited with inspiring other religious visionaries; St. Elizabeth of Shรถnau was a follower who became an intimate friend and frequent visitor, and St. Bernard of Clairvaux was counted among Hildegard’s many admirers. Her extensive correspondence with many medieval luminaries is still extant, and she frequently accepted invitations to visit communities and churches across Europe.

Hildegard died a holy death at Rupertsberg near Bingen in 1179. Greatly venerated in life, after her death many called her a saint and attributed miracles to her intercession. The process of her canonization began with Pope Gregory IX (1227-1241), but Hildegard was not formally canonized until 2012 when Pope Benedict XVI welcomed her as a Saint of the Church.

Hildegard’s copious manuscripts were found in the convent at Eibingen and preserved. In 1814 they were transferred to the state library at Wiesbaden. Of this collection the foremost and greatest work of St. Hildegard is the “Scivias” (Scire or vias Domini, or vias lucis), which she began in 1141 and completed ten years later. 

Prophetic and grave in the manner of Ezekiel and the Apocalype, the Scivias is an extraordinary accomplishment. In the introduction, Hildegard speaks of herself and describes the nature of her visions, then follow three books:  the first containing three visions; the second, about double the size of the first, recounts seven visions; the third, encompassing the size of both the others, has thirteen visions. Altogether, the Scivias represents God on His Holy Mountain with mankind at its base, and tells of the original condition of man, his fall and redemption, the human soul and its struggles, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, the times to come, the son of perdition and the end of the world.

Hildegard’s Liber vitae meritorum,” written between 1158 and 1163, is a picturesque description of a Christian’s life of virtue and its opposite; the “Liber divinorum operum”(1163-1170) is a contemplation of all nature in the light of faith. Sun, moon, and stars, the planets, the winds, animals, and man are in her visions expressive of something supernatural and spiritual, and as they come from God so should lead back to Him. Also among her works are nine small essays:  on the creation and fall of man; God’s treatment of the renegade; on the priesthood and the Holy Eucharist; on the covenant between Christ and the Church (“Ecclesia”); on the creation and redemption; on the duties of secular judges; on the praises of God with intermingled prayers.

The Vitae Disibodi and S. Ruperti, which Hildegard claims also to be revelations, were probably appended with local traditions, and have only legendary value; these include the Expositio Evangeliorum, fifty homilies in allegory, and a collection of seventy hymns and their melodies. The “Linga Ignota” is a manuscript in eleven folios containing a list of nine hundred words of an unknown language, mostly nouns and a few adjectives, together with an unknown alphabet of twenty-three letters with a Latin, and in a few instances a German translation. 

Hildegard’s gifts as a naturalist and healer are displayed in Liber Simplicis Medicinae and Liber Compositae Medicinae, a series of nine books treating of plants, elements, trees, stones, fish, birds, quadrupeds, reptiles, and metals. A second medical work, Curae et Causae, was discovered in 1859; it is in five books and treats of the general division of created things, of the human body and its ailments, of the causes, symptoms, and treatments of diseases, and is today considered one of the premiere works of medieval natural lore.
Follow the link to sample the album, "Hildegard von Bingen: 11,000 Virgins, Chants for the Feast of St. Ursula" by Anonymous 4:
Ever mindful of the importance of both spiritual and physical health, St. Hildegard first set down the recipe for these cookies over 900 years ago. She instructed that these spice biscuits should be taken at regular intervals to increase joy and positivity!
St. Hildegard’s Cookies of Joy
For 30 cookies you will need:


1½ sticks (¾ cup) of butter

1 cup of brown sugar

1 egg

1 teaspoon baking powder

¼ teaspoon salt

1½ cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground nutmeg

½ teaspoon ground cloves
Let butter soften and then cream it with the brown sugar. Beat in the egg. Sift the dry ingredients together. Add half to the butter, sugar and egg mixture; blend well. Add the remaining half and blend thoroughly. Dough may be chilled to make it workable. Form dough into walnut-sized balls; place on a greased and floured cookie sheet and press flat. Bake at 350° for 12-15 minutes, or until edges are golden brown. Cool on cookie sheet for 5 minutes; remove to wire racks and cool completely.

September 29th

Michael is undisputedly the most identifiable of all the Archangels. Indeed, in both Biblical and secular lore, and the traditions of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, Michael is ranked as the greatest of all angels. He is Chief of the Order of Virtues, Chief of Archangels, Prince of the Presence, Ruler of the 4th Heaven, and Angel of Repentance, Righteousness, Mercy, and Sanctification. He is the conqueror of Satan, angelic prince and tutelary guardian of Israel, and guardian of Jacob. He is the author of the 85th Psalm, the angel who stayed the hand of Abraham to prevent the sacrifice of Issac; he is the angel of the Burning Bush and he, along with the other archangels and the angel Metatron, assisted in the burial of Moses.
Michael comes to us from the Chaldeans who worshipped him as a god. Islamic tradition describes him as having “wings of the color of green emerald” and being covered in “saffron hairs, each of them containing a million faces and as many tongues” - possibly an allusion to Michael’s role as the ruling angelic spirit of the Sun. In the occult traditions, Michael is also the ruler of the greater and lesser angelic spirits associated with Sunday; by virtue of this solar connection he is aligned with the south and with the element of fire. Michael is credited with leading the hosts of heaven against the third of the angels who rebelled against God, casting out Lucifer and the angels of darkness under the command of the Arch Demon Belial. In Western art, Michael is familiar as the martial angel, wings outstretched, sword drawn, ready to strike at the head of Satan, who is prostrate beneath his girded feet. 
This mighty Archangel who cast the Devil out of heaven is also given power over all God’s natural phenomena including rain, wind, fire, snow, thunder, lightning, and hail. As the angel of battle and defender of the righteous, Michael is the patron saint of policemen and other law enforcement personnel. He is invoked to aid against wrong-doers and physical enemies; spiritual enemies flee from the very mention of his name.
Prayer to St. Michael
St. Michael, Archangel, defend us in battle,
Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil,
May God rebuke our enemies, we humbly pray,
And do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host,
By the power of God, thrust into Hell the Adversary
And all other evil spirits who prowl about the world
for the ruin of souls.

September Spells for the Autumn Home

As Summer wanes around us, our attention begins the barely-perceptible inward turning that marks the entire season of Autumn. Now we begin to spend more time inside with family and friends; we want to surround ourselves with the joys of the season, growing golden all around us. And in thinking about our homes and families, there may be an occasional need also to assure that home is a welcoming - and safe - place to be. 

Protection: At the corner of the house site, bury one each of four precious stones and one silver coin.

To Rid the Home of Unwelcome Guests: Place a broom behind a door of an adjacent room, pointing to him or her. The guest will leave in a hurry!


John Barleycorn: The Green Man in the Grain

Barley is an ancient grain and is possibly the oldest cultivated by the peoples of antiquity.  A traditional English folk song tells the story of the lifespan of the grain, personified as “John Barleycorn” – from his “birth” in seed-shoot to his demise as whiskey in a “nut-brown bowl.”

There came three men from out of the west,
Their fortunes for to try,
As they had sworn a solemn oath,
John Barleycorn must die.
They ploughed, they sowed,
They harrowed him in,
Throwed clods upon his head,
And these three men made a solemn vow,
John Barleycorn was dead.

Then they let him lie for a very long time
Till the rain from heaven did fall,
Then little Sir John sprung up his head,
And soon amazed them all.
They let him stand till midsummer
Till he looked both pale and wan,
And little Sir John he growed a long beard
And so became a man.

They hired men with scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the knee;
They rolled him, and tied him by the waist,
And served him most barbarously.
They hired men with pitchforks
Who pricked him to the heart,
And the loader he served him worse than that,
For he bound him to the cart.

They wheeled him round and round the field
Till they came unto a barn,
And there they made a solemn mow
Of poor John Barleycorn.
They hired men with crab-tree sticks
To cut him skin from bone,
And the miller he served him worse than that,
For he ground him between two stones.

Here’s little Sir John in a nut-brown bowl,
And brandy in a glass;
And little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl
Proved the stronger man at last.
And the huntsman he can’t hunt the fox,
Nor so loudly blow his horn,
And the tinker he can’t mend kettle nor pot
Without a little Barleycorn.
Cooking and Crafts
Autumn is a great time for cooking and trying out
recipes for the coming holiday season, such as this
Spice Cake with Velvet Cinn-Brown Sugar Glaze
Crafting takes on a new appeal during Autumn,
and it can be especially rewarding to decorate our home.
Here, a plush pumpkin is revived with new
Autumn finery. Below, a rag wreath of brilliant colors
announces Autumn's arrival.
Enjoy the season of plenty as you bring your harvest home!

All material Registered Copyright (c) 2010 - 2014 by Alyne Pustanio.
Reproduction and/or redistribution in any form whatsoever without the express written consent of the Author is strictly prohibited and punishable by law.