Lughnassadh
Lughnassadh approaches...
I admit, this is one of the holy days that I have a hard time with. I feel keenly the deeper meaning of sacrifice and an underlying sadness regarding it. Lughnassadh (you will find this spelled many ways - I spell it the way I learned to pronounce it in Irish). It is the first harvest and ceremony is performed, sacrifice given for the strengthening of the land and protection of crops. You will hear stories of John Barleycorn and his sacrifice. This is where my Lughnassadh sadness comes from. I recall a story from a wonderful wiccan with whom I have sadly lost touch. He had a story that he told at Lughnassadh that gave me chills with its beauty and sadness. It was the story of Lugh. In this story, he was loved by Brigid and he was sacrificed by Brigid to the nourishment of the land, his blood flowed through furrow into soil. I could never tell the story as beautifully as he told it, but I always carry with me the vision of Lugh bleeding into the earth and while he accepted fully, even gladly, the sacrifice of his life for the earth and its creatures. This story sets an aching in my heart. There are many stories of Lugh and if you have read them, you will say "Well that story couldn't have happened, that's not what happened with Lugh..." But this is an example of the sacred storyteller's art, not of the historian's or loremaster's art. Those gifts are commonly intertwined. But sometimes, they unravel and weave an exquisite trim to the mantle, though they are not the mantle itself. I remember too, another Lughnassadh at which a professed druid (a beginner) interrupted another story, more fantastical, and my response was the same. Though less courteous. This would be about ten years ago.
My points are several and I hope you are able to pick them out. I am in preparation for this Lughnassadh - for sacrifice and spellwork. We will sacrifice a good cut of beef and a heavy-grained loaf in the shape of a braid, sun or man. We will prepare our hunting equipment and begin to sharpen our skills for the coming hunting season. We will sing and dance and play music and I will think of Lugh as the sacrifice and as life. I see him as both. I see him dying and living and I have never in my life witnessed the death of the sun, as some traditions have it. My Lughnassadh may be different than the original, but I believe it comes from the same spiritual place - changed and even grown - but still the same in many ways.
For a brief history of Lughnassadh customs and origins, I direct you to Ellen Evert Hopman's A Druid's Herbal for the Sacred Earth Year. Lughnassadh may have changed in many ways, from its origins, but it is no less Lughnassadh. As with any holy day, the understanding of the spirit of the customs known is the important part. The roots are vital to the growth, fertility and survival of the tree.
Respectfully,
Niamh
I admit, this is one of the holy days that I have a hard time with. I feel keenly the deeper meaning of sacrifice and an underlying sadness regarding it. Lughnassadh (you will find this spelled many ways - I spell it the way I learned to pronounce it in Irish). It is the first harvest and ceremony is performed, sacrifice given for the strengthening of the land and protection of crops. You will hear stories of John Barleycorn and his sacrifice. This is where my Lughnassadh sadness comes from. I recall a story from a wonderful wiccan with whom I have sadly lost touch. He had a story that he told at Lughnassadh that gave me chills with its beauty and sadness. It was the story of Lugh. In this story, he was loved by Brigid and he was sacrificed by Brigid to the nourishment of the land, his blood flowed through furrow into soil. I could never tell the story as beautifully as he told it, but I always carry with me the vision of Lugh bleeding into the earth and while he accepted fully, even gladly, the sacrifice of his life for the earth and its creatures. This story sets an aching in my heart. There are many stories of Lugh and if you have read them, you will say "Well that story couldn't have happened, that's not what happened with Lugh..." But this is an example of the sacred storyteller's art, not of the historian's or loremaster's art. Those gifts are commonly intertwined. But sometimes, they unravel and weave an exquisite trim to the mantle, though they are not the mantle itself. I remember too, another Lughnassadh at which a professed druid (a beginner) interrupted another story, more fantastical, and my response was the same. Though less courteous. This would be about ten years ago.
My points are several and I hope you are able to pick them out. I am in preparation for this Lughnassadh - for sacrifice and spellwork. We will sacrifice a good cut of beef and a heavy-grained loaf in the shape of a braid, sun or man. We will prepare our hunting equipment and begin to sharpen our skills for the coming hunting season. We will sing and dance and play music and I will think of Lugh as the sacrifice and as life. I see him as both. I see him dying and living and I have never in my life witnessed the death of the sun, as some traditions have it. My Lughnassadh may be different than the original, but I believe it comes from the same spiritual place - changed and even grown - but still the same in many ways.
For a brief history of Lughnassadh customs and origins, I direct you to Ellen Evert Hopman's A Druid's Herbal for the Sacred Earth Year. Lughnassadh may have changed in many ways, from its origins, but it is no less Lughnassadh. As with any holy day, the understanding of the spirit of the customs known is the important part. The roots are vital to the growth, fertility and survival of the tree.
Respectfully,
Niamh
posted by Niamh sionnachdubh at 11:43 AM
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