Quote for the Day - What is Magic?

To work magic is to weave the unseen forces into form; to soar beyond sight; to explore the uncharted dream realm of the hidden reality, to infuse life with colour, motion, and strange scents that intoxicate; to leap beyond imagination into the space between worlds where fantasy becomes real; to be at once animal and god. Magic is the craft of shaping, the craft of the wise, exhilerating, dangerous - the ultimate adventure.' Starhawk 'The Spiral Dance' pg 136

' The language of magic is expressed in symbols and images. Images bridge the gap between the verbal and non verbal modes of awareness. They allow the two sides of the brain to communicate, arousing the emotions as well as the intellect. Poetry, itself a form of magic, is imagic speech.' Starhawk ' Spiral Dance' pg 137

Magic - magical - magician - mage - image - imagination - I Mage - Magnet - Imagnetic - Imagenesis( creation out of image) - Imagnosis ( this through what we imagine we know - take a word and see what it imagines itself to be!!

Imbolc Feb 2nd

Imbolc is the feast of the Goddess Brigid to whom this site is dedicated. It is at Imbolc that we celebrate the return of the goddess in her maiden aspect; renewed and reborn after the winter dark. In Irish legend, Brighid was a triple fire goddess whose name means 'fiery arrow'. Hers are the three fiery arrows of inspiration, healing and the hearth fire or forge. She is the muse of poets, the goddess of healing wells and the patroness of the crafts person or smith, transforming base metals into beautiful and useful tools. Brighid is generally seen as dressed in white like the snow drops and snow which still threatens to cloak the land at this time of year.Her bird is the swan also white and graceful. The swan is believed to only sing once - when it is dying. Its song is associated with prophesy, music and poetry.Swans skin and feathers are said to have made the cloak of a celtic poet.In some literature swans were said to sing mortals to sleep...your swan song is your last song of course.

Now is the time of regeneration; the first buds appearing on branches, the sounds of birds in the morning welcoming the return of the light;green shoots in the hedgerows and fields; streams and wells flowing with her purifying waters. Now the earth is reawakening and we can really sense the promise of longer, warmer days stretching ahead.Now life is stirring again after its deep hibernation and we can dream of the year to come. Now we can plant the seeds of hope; wishes for the year to come. Now is a time to make wishes at wells and to feel the inner spark of the flame of creativity. Imbolc was reclaimed by the Christian church as Candlemass and the old tradition of lighting candles to celebrate the returning light is marked by this festival.

I visited Madron well on Sunday to begin my Imbolc celebratio,my favourite festival even though it is bitterly cold and the earth is clogged with mud. I could definitely feel the sap in the greenery which emerged along the path to Madron Well with its Celtic Baptistry dedicated to St Maddern and reknowned for its healing properties with the hawthorns around the well spring bedecked in 'clouties' strips of rag and ribbon as prayers for healing.St Maddern may be a masculine saint but earlier asscoiations with Madron may link it to the idea of Madrona or Mother..there is more to say about this which I will discuss later.

The earth is starting to thaw and there was a delicate snowdrop at the foot of the tree outside the chapel. The sky was fierce blue and just as my friend and I began calling in the directions and the goddess, the sky turned dark grey and the wind howled; next we were pummelled and literally 'hailed' by a storm of hail stones and suddenly the chapel was transformed in seconds from granite to white. It was as if Brigid herself had decided to join us in the chapel and clothe it in her virgin mantle. Just after we had completed the calling in, the sun emerged bright from behind the clouds and the chapel was strewn with shafts of silver, white, twinkling light. The sky returned to sharp blue. It was a very powerful moment and struck us both with its magical quality. We had made a small hearth for Brigid on the altar of the chapel out of moss and gorse buds and were welcoming her return to bless the place and our lives with healing inspiration.My friend made a cross of twigs and bound it with white ribbon. We placed the cross on the altar, lit candles to honour the waxing light and also said prayers for healing at the well.Now is a time of beginning and individuation when the seeds begin to stir and we are initiated into a sense of our own light. It is a time of becoming uniquely ourselves and sharing the light of inspiration that will grow with the waxing year. Focus on what inspires you and what you wish to create.

Brigid has blessed me already with her inspiration as I have had my first poem 'St Marys Church, Cadgwith' published in 'Scryfa'Vol 12 - a book celebrating the best of contemporary Cornish writing!

Blessed Be xxx