Cille Bharra

I have just discovered a little gem on the isle of Barra. According to Celtic hagiography Christianity first arrived in Barra in the seventh century ce with a man called Finnbar. There is an Irish Saint Finnbarr of Cork but a Scottish life says that the Barra Finnbar was the love child of a Sutherland nobleman and a young woman. When the young woman was sentenced to death the unborn child spoke from the womb and saved her life. Cille Bharra is said to be the place where Finnbar built the first church on the island. Today the ruins of an ancient church and south chapel stand in a burial ground. To the north of the ruined church stands a sixteenth century burial chapel which has recently been re-roofed.

The site has a very special feel to it and opening the small door to enter the north chapel is a revelation. Although the site is dedicated to St. Finnbar, the interior is in a real way a shrine to Bride of the Isles. Bridget crosses are scattered around and there is a charmingly folksy statue of Bride as well as a traditional straw Bridie Beag adorned with ribbons and shells and a Bridget's cross. There are more Bridget crosses strewn across the altar and to the left a charming icon of Bride drawn on slate.

Places like Cille Bharra remind us that rational linear clock time is not the only time we experience. Whenever we are absorbed in someone or something we love we leave ordinary time and enter another world. It is Bride who is the focus for this here. A burial chapel is of course a symbolic womb and tomb, a cave built by human hands. It is a gateway to a place from which all life comes and to which all life returns. It is then natural that in such a place the Goddess should be manifestly present and that Her maternal, comforting energy should come to the fore.

Evocative names, evocative places

A Celtic sense of place means that Gaelic place names are often highly descriptive and sometimes beautifully evocative. I thought I would just share two evocative names for two very evocative places. The first is Loch Druidbeag on South Uist pictured above. The name means Little Lake of the Druids. It is now a bird reserve, a special place set aside for nature. I love how the shapes of hills in the background remind one of the Goddess.



The second is Pobull Fhinn on North Uist. Pobull Fhinn is a stone circle dating from the second millennium bce. The name means, Fionn's People or The Fair People referring to the Fiannaidheacht of Gaelic Myth. It could almost be the stone circle of the ancient ones. A place to move between the worlds. A place that must have always had a compelling beauty.

Cille Bhrighde, South Uist

After a very busy few weeks I am pleased to say that I am writing this near to Cille Bhrighde on the south coast of South Uist looking out to the islands of Eriskay and Barra. The sun is shining in a beautiful blue sky and the oyster catchers are making a wonderful noise as they come in to land. I love these liminal places at the very edge of Bhrighde's Isles. South Uist is almost 600 miles from London, 200 from Glasgow and a 5 hour ferry trip from Oban on the west coast of Scotland. From here there is only the Atlantic Ocean and the fabled land of youth, Tír inna n-Óc.

Liminal places like South Uist are thresholds, gateways, places of real enchantment with worlds within worlds and a different perspective on time. They let the spirit soar and see what is true. They are places that truly belong only to the Goddess, where women and men are only guests with whole areas that are reachable only by a long strenuous walk. Today, the first full day on Uist of the week we will be blessed by the island, my partner and I had a simple ritual and offering to Bhrighde. Thanking Her for allowing us to walk Her land, asking Her blessing and honouring Her presence.

Wise words from my parents

As a child my parents would often say to me that the most important thing to remember in life is, "Never trust anyone in authority and always think for yourself." It took a long time for the real truth and meaning of those words to become apparent.

It has been a bad week for authority in these islands. In the United Kingdom the authority of parliament is in tatters after revelation upon revelation of duplicity, secrecy and attempts at covering up multiple expense scandals. There are so many Terry Pratchett books I cannot remember in which one a character says, "We always put our politicians in prison the day they are elected, don't you?" Then Terry goes on to explain, "It saves time later!" Perhaps it also speaks volumes that there is a greater outcry over our politicians use of money than there ever was of them lying to us and taking us into an immoral, illegal war. The police have serious issues with acting in a political way at demonstrations, violence and causing the deaths of innocent people.

In Ireland the full horror of children's lives destroyed by sexual, physical and emotional abuse over decades has been revealed in an official five-volume report. This whole matter made even worse by the fact that it's publication was delayed by years as the Christian Brothers sought legal action to withhold the names of those responsible. To quote Ruth Gledhill, "Torture, rape and beatings. That's the unforgivable story of Roman Catholic Ireland in the 20th century. Still the perpetrators have not been named, and may never be brought to justice. It would be no exaggeration to call this a holocaust of abuse."

It is particularly telling that although boys suffered the most sexual abuse, "Female witnesses described, at times, being told they were responsible for the sexual abuse they experienced, both by their abuser and those to whom they disclosed abuse." How the story of Eve ripples down the years!

And this, "P**** W*** was two years old when he was taken to court with his two brothers aged three and four and a sister of six months. The crime: their mother was in an unhappy marriage and had left her husband. She was viewed as the guilty party by Church and State. We were put in the dock, charged and sentenced for, 'having a parent who does not exercise proper guardianship.'" His memories of the next 14 years are of physical and sexual assualt, hunger, fear and privation at the Artane Boys' School near Dublin run by the Congregation of Christian Brothers. And then there is the anguish of a mother who had her children ripped from her arms because she had the audacity to stand in her own power and demand a divorce. "For years we couldn't believe that she had tried to get us out but she made numerous attempts and was told it was impossible. She had to go back to her husband if she wanted her children."

Yesterday morning there was a discussion on the radio between a victim of abuse in Ireland and an Anglican priest who was clearly a good man who knew how to listen. One thing he said struck a chord, that authority - church and secular - tends to try and keep people like children. Or, he could have said lambs (to the slaughter). Authority cannot cope with people who stand in their own power and think for themselves. Authority thrives on secrecy and abuse.

If anything good can come out of all this it will be a total end to deference and the realisation by the majority of those words spoken so often by my parents many years ago, "Never trust anyone in authority." Of course I am reminded of some words of Karen Tate, "With this means of (Goddess) worship or thought, spoon-feeding from a pulpit is over and the journey becomes as important as the destination, The independent, intuitive, immense and immanent nature of Goddess can then remain a living tradition without the pressure of restrictive dogma created by a select few."

Time for a new way of living, may Goddess set us all free.

New life

Our first grandchild was born this morning, Earth Day. Thanks be to Goddess, a girl. 8lb 1oz.

May Bride hold mother and child in Her arms and may they both grow strong in love, open to all that is beautiful and true. May she weave a beautiful web of relationships. May she learn the power of myth and story. May mystery and magic be part of her life. May the ancient grandmothers protect and teach her.

I am proud, elated, happy that we have been blessed with a girl, and feeling very broody.

Held in her arms

In the autumn of 2005 I was able to spend two weeks exploring the Goddess sites of eastern Crete from a base in Makriyalos. I have very fond memories of that precious time. So many places evocative of the Goddess, such beauty in the landscape, peace and quiet to meditate and make offerings of devotion and thanksgiving.

One day I drove to Knossos the extraordinarily beautiful capital of Minoan Crete controversially restored by Arthur Evans. One of the rooms at Knossos is now called The Shrine of the Double Axes. In this room, as at other shrines in Crete, a number of bell skirted clay Goddesses were discovered. These are sadly identified at Knossos as 'votive clay idols'. Many of these bell skirted Goddesses have raised arms and birds or poppies or horns of consecration on their heads.

The road to Knossos is inevitably lined with souvenir shops and I idly spent a little time browsing. It was in one such shop that a reproduction of one of the bell skirted Goddesses very literally caught my eye. Her painted eyes met mine and there was this overwhelming sense of presence, real, raw, strong, vital, beyond words.

The bell skirted Goddess came home with me. I hope She is not homesick for Her beloved Crete. Since then She has had a permanent place on the hearth at the very core of home. That overwhelming presence has never left Her. It is impossible to look at Her without feeling drawn to Her, without holding Her gaze.

It is hard to know what these Goddesses meant to the Minoans. I look at Her oversized, strong, raised arms and long thick neck and wonder whether these represent the abundance of the Cretan earth? Crops growing tall and strong, rooted in fertile soil, warmed by the Mediterranean sun. Does the bird on Her head mean She is Lady of the Birds gazing to the freedom of the sky? Is She a messenger? Does the bird represent gifts beyond human capability? Does She guide us through birth, life and death with the clear sight and sure flight of a bird? Are we all born from Her skirts, held in Her arms before Her breasts, beautiful, strong and free? Is She calling us to an understanding and appreciation of mystery and magic? Is She asking us to weave stories that link us to our true humanity, to each other, to co-operation?

I am slowly recovering from my accident which has forced me to spend a lot of time at home. The bell skirted Goddess has caught my eye a lot. She has brought me to silence and in the silence tears of joy and of love. Her strong arms are a constant reminder of the wonder of friends who have sent cards, lit candles, waves of healing energy, phone calls, visits - the web of love that is woven around me. Once again my fingers have not touched the keyboard for many minutes as I am held in Her gaze, touching what it means to be alive, giving thanks for all that is. No wonder the Minoans could produce such wonderful art, spontaneous, fluid, full of joy, energy, self respect and a oneness with the natural world.

You never know

All life is a risk and sometimes little surprises pull us up short. Thursday I crossed the road caught my foot in a pothole and fell heavily against the kerb. The fall was hard enough to break the top of my left femur. Within seconds women came across to check I was alright. When they realised I wasn't they held me, called for an ambulance and patiently waited for it to arrive. Goddess knows there are always caring people who will put themselves out to do the right thing.

The next morning I was in the operating theatre having a plate and screws inserted under a spinal block. Science is wonderful to provide a pain free operation whilst wide awake! Goddess thinks very highly of science and skilled anaesthetists and surgeons. She also delights in health care systems that provide first class care absolutely free at the point of demand :) This is Goddess thinking at its very best - no one asking for a credit card before surgery!

And it does not stop there. Since the op everyone has shown such care. Nurses, caterers, the cleaners, and the lovely physios who patiently showed me how to use crutches and manage stairs. Practically all these wonderful people are women. Probably none of them have heard of the Goddess Movement but all are truly following her ways.

I am writing this on my iPhone sat on the orthopaedic ward. Another wonderful reason for science! It weaves webs of communication worthy of the webs woven at the close of Goddess Conference. And thinking of webs thanks to all those special people who have woven a tangible web of healing and prayer. Such is the fabric of the mantle of recovery.

So it is 6 weeks on crutches and another 6 weeks light load bearing. Its a good thing most of my work can be done sitting at the Mac at home. Goddess hinting I should slow a bit and attend to the beautiful bits of the precious gift of life.