Shadowlands

It feels like a lid has been lifted on a hidden cess pool; in so many places across our world, a light is being shone into the collective shadow to reveal the very worst of what humans are capable of. So many of those in power and in corporate business appear to be sociopathic, narcissistic, greed ridden, power hunger (and worse), and the pain and suffering in our world – evident in the horrors of Gaza, Sudan, Iran, Ukraine, the US and other places – continue without very much outrage or action from our political institutions. It is left to those folks at the grass roots – everyday people who are distressed and horrified by what they are witnessing – to stand up and be counted in a way our political systems appear unable, or unwilling, to do. It is the everyday folks who are displaying a courage and vision that our politicians lack.

There are so many occasions over recent years when I have felt sick to my stomach at the injustices that happen without consequence. A moral compass appears absent in our power structures, corporations, and in world politics, regardless of where people stand on the political spectrum. Shadow work – whether collective or personal – takes courage and honesty, and it is these qualities that we so desperately need in a world of political and corporate duplicity and corruption.

As well as courage and honesty, shadow work takes compassion and the strength to not lose sight of hope; it takes a regular checking in with the real reason for shadow work, which is healing and integration of energies that have become banished, distorted and wounded. It means recognising both the tyrant and the victim within, that these do not become projected out into our world in destructive ways or materialising in cruelty and meanness. Shadow work is the work of regaining and retaining our humanity in the face of ignorance, pain and denial. In short, it is not easy.

Given all that is happening, Imbolc has felt particularly poignant this year. The snowdrop is such a symbol of delicate but powerful strength in the face of adversity, such a hopeful little flower. It is giving me the strength to not be consumed by all that is happening.

At Imbolc and for the season of Imbolc – which for me is the entire time from Imbolc to the Spring Equinox – I honour the Goddess Bride and the God Angus. In Scottish mythology, they are linked with Beira, the Cailleach of Winter, and the relationship between them plays out in the eternal cycles of the seasonal year. The Cailleach is said to keep Bride captive in her cave during winter until she is released in the spring, bringing fertility and growth back to the land. In some stories, Angus is the son of Beira, who falls in love with Bride and aids her escape. Bride and Angus are deities of the summer months; of renewal and youthfulness, and the rebirth of hope.

In Irish myth, Angus is Aengus Óg, the son of Boann and Dagda, and is a god of love, youth, poetry and music. These qualities are also present in his Scottish incarnation, for me at least, and I am particularly fond of the story that birds are said to flutter around Angus’ head; these sweet singing birds are said to be his kisses, and draw love from all that hear their song.

In my Imbolc ritual to Bride and Angus this year, I pondered the importance of reconnecting with the youthful qualities of optimism, joy and hope, especially now. As we age, we can perhaps become a little world weary, a little rigid or stuck in our ways. If we have been truly wounded by life, bitterness or an emotional brittleness can rob us of our ability to be flexible and open to life and love; if we ever feel this happening to ourselves, it can be so valuable to remember our own youthful excitement and curiosity, our capacity to love life and believe in our dreams and visions as instruments for beauty and goodness. It is no coincidence that we honour these qualities of beauty, poetry, of dreams, visions and hope at Imbolc, even when the harshness of winter and the darkness is still very much with us. We dream, we create beauty, we love, despite – and even because – of the darkness, the cold, the cruelty because our humanity thrives in that hopeful, shining space that Imbolc so beautiful celebrates: these qualities keep the darkness from taking over perpetually.

Music, poetry, stories, song, dance, art, cooking, gardening, caring for others, every creative act performed with love – these are Bride and Angus’ gifts to us, and their power is greater than hatred, greed, divisive power grabs or the toxic narcissism of broken leaders and morally bankrupt systems. In the creative flame lies the spark of new visions, new ways to be, new ways to understand, new ways to relate to each other with kindness and with the joyful recognition of all that unifies us.

In these dark times, Imbolc encourages us to hold on to our hope; it is where true healing resides; it is the guiding light in the shadowlands.

Planting Bulbs In The Hope Of Spring

The awful events happening in our world at the moment have me feeling a deep heaviness and grief; I have lead for bones.  My day-to-day reality is actually relatively peaceful, but it is impossible to ignore what is happening ‘out there’. I am sure I don’t need to remind anyone that there are distressing and ugly eruptions of our darkest collective shadow being given full rein in some places, and by some people. Although I might hope that this underbelly brought into the light potentially offers us an opportunity to collectively heal, I despair that this will not happen in time to avoid immense suffering and pain. The immense suffering and pain are already happening, and I have never felt so impotent. I have lived long enough to witness some pretty awful things that have happened in our world, but this feels different somehow and more akin to the dark times my own parents went through as the generation who were caught up in World War II.

I am not a fan of talking about ‘dark forces’ but I think certain personal and collective wounds, when unaddressed, can manifest in cruelty, and in a world that feels so uncertain for so many people, the simplified certainties of a politics of blame and scapegoating can have good people losing their moral compass and turning a blind eye to that cruelty.

My Druidry has always been spiritual and psychological. A key part of my Druid practice has been turning my own lens inward to see what needs to be healed and integrated in my own psyche. I do this so that I might take my place in this beautiful world in ways that are constructive and positive. I believe that Druidry is a path of compassion but it also requires we be fearless in calling out our own BS, when needed. That isn’t easy and it is not always clear when we are in the grip of our own shadow, acting out in ways that cause others pain. There seems to be a good deal of acting out from those unconscious wounds in our world at present. Trying to keep our footing in this troubling climate can feel exhausting at times.

As we move towards the Equinox, it is useful to explore where our balance lies. Here in the Northern Hemisphere, we are slowing moving towards the darker months. The light is noticeably lessening, the mornings chillier. I have felt such resistance in me to the coming of autumn this year, fighting back the growing darkness –  the going inward – probably because in rest and introspection, I know that I can so often be confronted with painful and uncomfortable feelings.

In my own efforts to regain my equilibrium, I keep trying to bring myself back to my body, and to the body of the earth, to ground and dissipate the anxiety I feel, but also to allow myself to acknowledge the grief and to witness the horror without denial, without experiencing emotional paralysis in the face of the unspeakable. If we stop witnessing, if we stop calling out the injustice, we lose our humanity and we need our humanity more than ever. However, feeling the distress can be so tough if we cannot soothe our nervous systems on a regular basis and let those feelings move through and out of us. We all know the frazzle of overwhelm: exhaustion and burn out can be particularly intense if we are not able to act on our distress. Feeling like powerless bystanders can leave us drained and hopeless, so taking care of our well-being becomes doubly important. The world needs us to stay grounded in order to play our part in a much-needed collective healing. We can’t do that if we are exhausted and consumed with fear.

I have had a recurring image in my spiritual ponderings over the last couple of days. Whenever I feel that dread of the winter coming – or the world gets too much – something tells me to plant bulbs for spring. Every year autumn comes and I always forget to plant them, but when I think of the symbolic significance of this act, it fills me with hope. We bury our bulbs in the dark, cold soil; we can so easily forget they are there until suddenly after all the bitter, frozen, dark times, a miracle of emergence occurs; an explosion of life, heralding the greening of the world once more, with all the joy and renewed energy that this brings.

I will be asking myself this Equinox, which bulbs should I plant, both actually and psychologically.  What shall I offer over to the earth’s fertile darkness that She might birth a new hope, a new energy, a new healing, a new way to be? Perhaps we could all plant bulbs with magical intention – I still have faith in these simple acts that come from the heart.

If you are struggling, do please check out Philip Carr-Gomm’s wonderful new course: How to Stay Sane in an Insane World – all proceeds go to Doctor’s without Borders. And do please share you own coping strategies in the comments. /|\

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