The great Hag extends a boney hand – an invitation to take a journey with the oldest figure of pre-Celtic myth.
In this course we will explore:
- Her Great Age
- Pilgrimage to 3 Irish and 4 Scottish of her sacred sites
- Examine why her story has changed over time
- Explore her folklore looking for clues of her origins
- Consider her role for our times
Through the Eye of the Cailleach
With art, altar building (step by step each week), guided meditations and community to explore your insights, thoughts and inspiration….
Click below for more information & registration. Pre-registration is open with the first session starting 10/27.
A story of the making of a doll, or rather the beginnings of a doll.
I once encountered a very ancient energy at the edge of the Pacific Ocean. I wasn’t seeking or calling her yet this great primordial force made her presence known to me from the depths of the ocean. She was angry with me, furious even – it was dark and I couldn’t see the ocean, couldn’t see the waves – only the last few meters that crashed onto the shore. Standing there on that shore felt like the very edge of the world, as if the land just dropped off into dark space with the stars above intermingling with the ocean. I could feel her range, like an mother who wants her daughter to find her path – frustrated yet full of love and caring. That old one give me wise advice .
Many years later as I walk the shore here in Maine picking up driftwood, seaweed and prices of old rope I’m aware of that ancient figure again but in a different form. She is an energy that has transformed and shape shifted alongside humanity offering different stories and meanings to different people at different periods in time. What was the power of the ocean to the earliest peoples – she who brings rain clouds and storms and churns up the sea as if she is stirring her great cauldron and then can bring a great silence by muting both the sea and land in blankets of thick fog.
I have an affinity for the sea and have not long left my home surrounded by water in her many forms – of lochs and rivers and mountain streams.
In North Carolina I’ve been landlocked, although we have are in the presence of one of the oldest rivers in the world the French Broad or Tah-kee-os-tee, just to sit by her banks lulls you into a magical place out of time.
Last night on a dark moon I walked through the dark back streets. There was a fog swirling and a light drizzle of rain. The dog was spooked as if she was following us, taking the form of crow and bat and the hum from electric streetlights.
She reached into my dream last night with long skeletal fingers, like prices of bleached driftwood. she gave me a stone, a small brown stone with a hole. It is a hag stone, and if you were to look through it you can see into another realm, a place outside of time. And so I gather driftwood and seaweed and weave these together with wool and begin to create the sea witch, the sea hag.