THE WELLSPRING

By Anna Franklin [with Pamela Harvey]

Illustrated by Helen Field

Extracts from

CHAPTER ONE

IMBOLC

TO ATHENA

Just to be me alone

That I will not be taught.

You of whom the myth was sung,

From the brow of Zeus had sprung,

Goddess of Thought,

Listen now to my plea

Not to be merely me-

Let me be more of thee, who Wisdom sought.

We who belong to you

And from each other share

That gift of Inspiration

To which Reason is the heir,

May we always know

Though we may creature be,

Yet we are Thought.

Imagination thus

Revealed in you to be

From the Divinity, given to us,

We may be no greater thing,

-If seeming trivial and small-

Than to be thought by One

Who would think All.

PH

THE FIRST STIRRINGS OF SPRING

Imbolc, celebrated in the snowy depths of early February, marks the very first awakening of spring. The bare arms of winter trees begin to redden with sap and the first snowdrops poke their heads from the cold earth. The Crone Goddess of winter sheds her dark mantle and becomes the young Maiden of Spring, full of the promise of the year. With the white wand she carries she brings life back to the dead land, quickening life in the womb of Mother Earth. .

Animals begin to shake off their winter sleep and emerge from hibernation. Young lambs are born and nurtured. The ploughs are brought out and blessed, and the first furrow is tilled.

In the Craft we celebrate Imbolc as the festival of the Maiden Goddess, who is called Brighid, Athene, Arianrhod, Diana, Artemis, Persephone, Minerva, Isis and many other names. She is the White Goddess of Inspiration, the Muse of the bard, the Lady of Magic, the Healer, the Guardian of the Hearth. On her wheel she spins the cosmos, her cup is the womb from which we are all born, the grail of wisdom, and her mirror reflects the truth and shows us things yet to come.

Imbolc is the festival of womankind, when women gather to celebrate their gifts of creativity and nurturing on all levels, and offer them to the Goddess.

ROWAN TREE PATHWORKING

Relax.

You find yourself, on a cold day at the beginning of February, on a hill. It is approaching dawn and there are patches of snow amidst the tufts of grass.

On top of the hill is a grove of trees and you begin climbing towards it. Between the branches, you can just make out the flickering of a fire.

As you approach the grove you can see that the trees are rowan, the Druid’s tree, their greyish trunks reaching up towards the darkened sky, still hung with a few bunches of berries, red as flame. You reach up and pluck a cluster of them, and you can see that the base of each berry is marked with a five pointed star, a pentacle, the mark of the Goddess. You tuck the berries into the collar of your coat.

Thus protected, you enter the grove. The rowan trees surround a circle of nineteen stones.

In the centre of the circle is a brazier, burning with a bright flame. Fire-threads of sparks leap up from it.

Seated by the fire is an old woman, cloaked an hooded in black. She is spinning thread from a quickley revolving spinning wheel. The threads are luminous and she collects them on a spindle made of rowan wood.

‘I have kept the flames of life burning throughout the winter,’ she says.

You wonder what it is that she is spinning. You may go up to her and ask her what you will.

After a time she takes a cup from beneath her cloak, a grail. Taking the berries from your collar, she squeezes the juice into the cup. You are surprised as the foaming red liquid fills the grail.

She holds the cup towards you and says ‘This is the food of Gods and initiates. The blood red gives life and vitality. The rowan gives visions.’

You take the cup and drink from it. as you do, the spinning wheel begins to turn of its own accord, and with it the grove. You are at the hub of a spinning wheel. The wheel of the year itself. As the sun rises over the heel stone winter begins to melt I to spring.

You look back at the old woman. She throws off her cloak and is dressed in glowing white, bathed in the light of the risen sun. Her face is no longer wrinkled and drawn, but shining with youth and vitality. Bright red hair ripples down her back like tongues of fire. In her hand is a quiver containing three arrows of rowan wood, each tipped with a living flame. She laughs.

As she walks through the grove snowdrops appear in her footsteps. As she passes the trees their branches swell with buds.

She smiles at you and you feel life and energy quicken within you.

When you are ready, thank the Lady and let the scene fade around you and return yourself to waking consciousness.

THE PLOUGH RITE

In ancient times, after the rebirth of the sun at the winter solstice, the ploughs and agricultural implements would be blessed and prepared ready for the work to come when the weather picked up. Chanting, dancing and singing would drive away the spirits of winter and offerings were made for a successful harvest. In Christian times this festival was called Plough Monday, and falls on the first Monday after the Epiphany, marking the return to work after the holidays. A plough was decorated and blessed and processed through the village.

            Now the sun has been reborn we can look forward to the spring, though the weather in January and February is often the coldest part of the year. In the depths of winter it is a time to hope and look forward.

            Take out some of your gardening equipment, even if you only have houseplants you will probably have little trowels and watering cans. Clean the implements thoroughly and decorate them with ribbons and any flowers you can find. Prepare your sacred space and lay them before the altar.

"I call upon you God and Goddess of the harvest to witness that I dedicate these tools in your honour. In this time of dark and cold, we trust that the spring will return, that the earth will become green once more, that the flowers and fruit will grow. With these tools I will work the earth and bring forth your bounty and your harvest."

Sprinkle the tools with water to purify them and lay your hands on them in blessing.

"Lord and Lady, be with us throughout the year and grant us your blessings".

The cakes and wine are taken and the sacred space banished.

Continues….