Doon Hill - A Portal Onto The Fairy World

*Per leggere questo articolo in Italiano clicca qui.*

At the Summer Solstice, it is impossible not to mention the paranormal: since the sun is at its peak, during its long journey in the sky, even magic reaches its full power under its golden rays. Throughout Europe there are legends related to the solstice and how natural laws were overturned on this particular day.

As often happens on the occasion of these particular astronomical events, the veil between the worlds becomes thinner and thus communication with the supernatural is favored.

Not only are there particularly suitable periods of the year, but also places of power where other dimensions are more accessible. One of these is Doon Hill, a small corner of peace and lush greenery at the foot of the Scottish Highlands. Although small and probably known only by the most accustomed fans of British folklore, it is the scene of a truly fascinating story about the fair folk.

It happens to be the place where the remains of Reverend Robert Kirk rest, author of "The Secret Commonwealth" and whose fate is still a mystery shrouded in the mists of this magical land.

Kirk was the minister of Aberfoyle, where he remained until his death: he achieved moderate success as the author of the first complete Gaelic translation of the Bible, but his true fame was reached postmortem thanks to the book The Secret Commonwealth - a collection of folklore and legends written between 1691-1692, but published only in 1815.

Kirk, despite his Christian faith, was the holder of what is called "second sight" - which may seem an oxymoron, accustomed as we are to today's conception of Christianity. But we must remember that many Christian customs are imbued with paganism and vice versa, intertwined over the centuries - especially when it comes to rural places, instilled with pre-Christian customs. It was therefore not uncommon to hear of "second sight" in the Scottish Highlands, it was almost routine and prestigious status.

Wandering through the local countryside, gathering evidence of encounters with the fairy folk, he used to frequent nearby Doon Hill - a hill surrounded by woods, not far from his parish. There he said he often encountered ethereal creatures "somewhat of the nature of condensed cloud and best seen in twilight", - who illustrated the habits and customs of their people. They dressed and talked like humans, danced, celebrated, sang but with substantial differences: for example, they fed on the lifeblood (foison) and managed to pass through tiny holes and cracks in the walls. Their homes, where they lived in a society with a well-defined hierarchy, were located underground and often visited this dimension during the nights of Samhain and Beltane - when the veil between worlds was thinnest. There were also differences in what we can call "moral": the fairies were neither good nor bad, sometimes they made themselves useful to others by giving advice on how to fix tools or warning of imminent dangers, sometimes instead they kidnapped young mothers to breastfeed their children, they seduced humans and / or stole their infants - think of the famous changelings for example.

They had nothing to do with the sweetened version that we imagine today: according to legends, they are thin and shiny beings - similar to the Elves described by Tolkien, which have roots in Norse mythology.

The Norse and the Anglo Saxons, indeed, called them alfar (elves). 

In Ireland they were known as sidhe, while in Scotland as sith - meant as inhabitants of the Sitheans, mounds considered portals to the other world, while in Wales they were called ellyllon (shining beings). Today's connotation of fairies derives from the French fée and then Englishised into fairy.

Those who met them, during their crepuscular celebrations, were overwhelmed by an irrepressible desire to dance and follow the procession - often ending up in their world and then being unable to return. Only the purest of heart and most gifted in the arts were able to receive gifts and return to this dimension.

Returning to our Robert Kirk, one day he was mysteriously found dead at the top of the hill. The reason for his death is still a mystery now ... it may have been an illness, maybe he fell into the wrath of the fairy people for having revealed their secrets, some say that the body was simply a simulacrum and the real Robert Kirk was transported to the kingdom of fairies.

Whatever the truth, his body (real or not) is buried at Aberfoyle Cemetery, while Doon Hill can be visited via a peaceful and relaxing path - lined with trees covered with ribbons, prayers, flowers and offerings. Pulsating memory of a folklore that was and still lives in the hearts of those who visit the hill, perhaps hoping to meet some supernatural being.

Whatever you do for the solstice, be careful.

The veil becomes thin, and with it the visits on this plane more frequent.

♃Ludna

Of Ego and Spirituality

**Clicca qui per leggere questo post in Italiano

It was a sunny day in early February, when the daylight began to increase and the golden rays of the sun to heat a little more tenaciously, that I found myself contemplating writing this post: I watched the world flow outside the window, in an altered state of consciousness and in the company of the person I love. The seagulls flew high in the sky, playing in the wind, while distant clouds created playful patterns on the green hills of Britain... now it seems a distant memory, despite the fact that spring is knocking on the door with a promise of new hope; a vain hope that is difficult to perceive when winds of war blow strong in the East.

But also thanks to this latter, great threat that casts shadow on the Western world, I find myself again thinking the same thing, the same inspiration that prompted me to conceive this article in the first place - albeit in a different interpretation from how originally conceived.

**Click here for helpful self-care tips for practitioners.

These days I have seen a lot of people on social media unleash hatred, frustration and disinformation - perhaps products of a smoke screen of confusion, terror and propaganda, which is frightening and therefore proportional to the fear and feeling helplessness in front of a situation bigger than us. And immediately everyone to share the news that cause more shock, sensationalism, the real pornography of pain; but a doubt arises spontaneously: despite the first, instinctive desire to sincerely help others, how much is an egoic choice to make so much noise? Of explaining why you share useful material and links or, otherwise, the need to justify why you don't? To show that you are on the right side of history, to be able to tell those who watch with a wakeful eye "I have done my part" and avoid the virtual guillotine of cancel culture?

It is in the nature of the human being to seek the approval of others, in any social, economic and political sphere. It is part of our most basic and hidden needs, being social animals that rely on the concept of community for our survival, it has been so for millennia and still is now, although we like to think that we are evolved creatures who will soon be able to conquer the Solar System and beyond.

From when we are born to the day we die, in all aspects of our life, we seek the approval and love of our peers... yes, even in the event of a war: from the head of state who declares it, an emblematic façade of who knows what real interest behind it, to the general of an army, looking for career advancement, to the single citizen of a foreign country who assists helplessly and divulges via social media.

Despite being part of our nature, it is disputable though when "errors" of this type are made by people who define themselves as spiritual and accustomed to occult disciplines. Shouldn't we be the first ones to know the depths of the microcosm, the labyrinths of our psyche, before we can heal the macrocosm and try to influence the Universe in a positive way?

Yet, in this sea of ​​old and new practitioners, holistic operators, healers and holy people, unfortunately the essential work of Shadow Work takes a back seat (we will deepen it soon, don't you worry). 

If we cannot heal ourselves and we do not know the limits of our knowledge, how can we expect to instil it in others?

The Ego is part of us, it is not an aspect of our being that we can eliminate.

It is a natural defence, which allows us to reason and act when the irrational is on the loose... To the detriment of the subconscious though, that part of us that instead allows us to pick up the vibrations in the thin web of the cosmos.

We have already talked about it in another article, which I strongly urge you to read, in the age of social media it is very easy to obtain consensus and popularity in a very short time. And find also quick information, at the mercy of any reader.

**Click here to read how communities are changing.

And in recent years I have (I think I can also speak on behalf of other practitioners) noticed the spasmodic search for the more niche, alternative cult and the need to disclose it in blogs that are sprouting like mushrooms everywhere, in the shadow of such a spiritual current. The desire to share, the enthusiasm and the search for people similar to us is once again a common feature of all human beings. Especially in a country like Italy, which is strongly Catholic and retrograde from this point of view... Am I not here talking about it with you on a blog after all?

But precisely because it is a life that we live in a showcase thanks to social media (the dish we eat at the trendiest restaurant, the unboxing of our latest fast fashion order, the holidays in the Instagrammable Air B&B, etc.), we must honestly and truly ask ourselves if that that we profess is for the sake of our spirituality and not for our personal validation.

In recent months I have seen a rather worrying phenomenon developing in the pagan community, with blows of screenshots, tags and Instagram lives, accusing each other of little moral integrity and/or of worshiping fake gods - like any story of newspaper gossip.

And while the sun caressed my skin, at the gates of Imbolc, I felt this warmth growing in my chest, essential gear of a perfect reality in its imperfection: an agglomeration of star dust, on a tiny blue point in the middle of an infinite space-time ocean. Where everything is love and indifference at the same time, coexisting in an eternal dance of balances.

And as I pondered this divine pattern, I wondered: if there really is an entity out there, call it the Universe, Jehovah, Allah or whatever your spiritual path suits you best, do they really give a shit about our battles in the name of the most integral and historically correct cult? Of our wars, under one banner or another - heralds of absolute truths?

When I approached the world of the Occult, I approached it for the love of knowledge and my planet.

To be able to feel myself in the middle of the axis mundi, to grasp even for a fraction of a second the infinity of the Cosmos.

To be everything and nothing at the same time, suspended on a thread between death and life and understand their mysteries.

And this is what drives me every day to practice, research and study not only on the textbooks of ancient scholars, but also to live them on my skin and understand the complexity of the world around me.

It does not matter if you have heard your call differently, we all got there in different ways and from different worlds but the constant is the same: a gesture of love; every day towards ourselves, our community and the nature that surrounds us - without the need to excel and make a lot of noise about nothing. It is an all-round discipline and the path of a lifetime - followed with humility, not just confined to casting a spell on a full moon nor demonstrating anything to anyone on a virtual stage.

It is part of our nature to simply be "human" and "make mistakes", to the best of our ability; so don’t be too harsh on yourself and others, perfection is only godlike but I would like to invite you all to simply ask yourself questions.

Without arrogance, without pride and without judgment - no one needs gurus who boast of truth and spit dogmas about absolute practices, but only to open your hearts to the spirits with sincerity and begin to listen.

Do little acts of kindness every day, little acts of magic where no one can see you.

Do not lose your compass on what your spiritual calling truly is and yourself if, what you’re just about to do, it is just for a simple desire for recognition in front of your community.

The Ego, although it is an essential part of us, does not carry us that far when we immerse ourselves in narratives as an end in themselves. Just look at the current political situation, a fragile and dangerous example of what our mania for grandeur can do without the humility of listening to our soul and the spirits around us.

Good Listening. 

♃Ludna

Mari Lwyd - A Welsh Christmas Spirit

December has arrived, and with it the Yuletide.

Whether you were in ancient Rome celebrating Saturnalia, or in the sacred stone circle of Stonehenge welcoming the newborn sun on the horizon, or around a fire drinking mead, telling stories during the longest night in Scandinavia ; the theme was always the same: the triumph of sacred light over darkness.

What we have been taught as children, if you too grew up in a predominantly Christian community, is the good-natured and sugary version of Christmas: lights, gifts, songs around the tree, laughter, moments of celebration in the family.

But as we well know, the Christian sweetened versions are reinterpretations of ancient cults - which are joyful, but also include a part of shadow that is often omitted (and which is essential, to fully understand the duality of existence).

*** Click here to read our article on the Winter Solstice.

If in the past few years we have taken you to the Alpine valleys with the Krampus and between Italy and Scandinavia with Saint Lucy, this year instead we are taking you to the greenest of Wales.

Although it has been part of the United Kingdom for hundreds of years and most of the population now speaks English, Wales can be defined as a true Celtic nation - with a well-defined cultural identity, which has survived centuries of British hegemony (in turn a wounded product of the Roman invasion in the first place, and then of the Saxon invasion and Christianisation later).

Personally one of the countries that I find most imbued with magic, we could discuss for hours about its uniqueness and the beautiful natural landscape that characterises it, but today we will talk about a particular Christmas custom: the Mari Lwyd.

Originally from South Wales, it is a tradition that was at risk of disappearing during the last century but which fortunately has taken hold again thanks to a renewed popularity, certainly thanks to its suggestive and particular figure (and perhaps also of social media?). 

In fact I think it is difficult to forget, once seen in first person: the costume consists of a horse skull, supported by a pole and decorated with bows and festive motifs - veiled with a cloak, usually white, hiding the individual who personifies the Mari .

The Mari Lwyd is mentioned for the first time in 1798, in J.Evans' book "A Tour through Part of North Wales, in the year 1798, and at Other Times" but it was immediately clear that it was a reminiscence of older customs - starting with the British tradition of wassailing, of which the mare is perhaps the most extravagant version.

During the Middle Ages, especially in the southern part of today's United Kingdom, it was traditional to observe the Twelve Nights of Christmas; during which it was customary to drink spiced alcoholic beverages based on beer or cider, and wish the participants good health.In fact, the word "wassail" derives from Old Norse ves heill, which in turn was translated into archaic English wes hál (to good health).

On the Twelfth Night, people were knocking from house to house - singing and offering hot and aromatic drinks in exchange for gifts. Custom would like the feudal lords to offer blessings and food to the villagers, who presented themselves at the door of the manor singing litanies. If all this reminds you of the Victorian custom of "carolling" and today's Christmas carols, you guessed it right: they come from here.

The origins of wassailing were not always of good-natured origin, some like the "first footing" had more of a trickster nature - similar to the famous "trick or treat" typical of Halloween. The Mari Lwyd belongs to the latter category.

During the night, the mare is escorted from door to door by her human companions - who challenge the host to a pwngco or rhyming contest (often quite rude!), making excuses as to why Mari cannot enter into the house. Once the motivations, obviously fictitious, are exhausted, the inhabitant is forced to let in, by offering libations, this Christmas spirit which will run around the house, creating havoc and "scaring" the children; bringing with it a good omen for the coming year.

But who is the Mari Lwyd?

Its origins are not entirely clear and have perhaps been lost over the centuries, however there are two schools of thought about it.

The first connects her to the nativity, placing Mari Lwyd as a translation of Gray Mary (or Holy Mary): according to an old legend, a pregnant mare was sent out of the stable to make room for the Madonna pregnant with the Baby Jesus. According to the legend, she is still roaming the earth for a warm place where she can give birth to her foal.

Another version of the Christian origin of the festival associates it with the medieval Feast of the Ass - where the mare is identified as the donkey that took the Virgin Mary in flight to Bethlehem to give birth to the Baby Jesus.

If you are accustomed to pagan traditions, you will surely have noticed the running theme: that of the shamanic flight and the Wild Hunt, typical of many celebrations of the period, I refer you again to the links above to deepen this topic. Even the legend of the stable has a very sinister and symbolic theme: that of a pagan divinity, supplanted by the arrival of Christianity.

In fact, now we come to the second version of Mari Lwyd's origin, the most accredited (despite the lack of verified historical sources) and the one we like even more!

Another plausible translation of the name is "Gray Mare" (gray mare), from the assonance with the English word "mare" and "lwyd", which in Welsh means gray. This would connect it with the enormous importance that horses held in Celtic and British culture, especially white horses - true messengers from the Otherworld (Rhiannon rode a white horse, for example). This version is further strengthened by the fact that the Mari tradition shares similarities with other British Isles traditions - to name a few, are the Hoodening from Kent or the Old Tup celebrated between Derbyshire and Yorkshire, The Broad or the Old Horse of Northern England to the neighbouring Ireland with the tradition of the Láir Bhán (white mare) and Laare Vane of the Isle of Man.

Uffington White Horse - Dating back to the Bronze Age (Oxfordshire)

It is not difficult to see the reminiscences of a pagan cult, finding oneself in front of the white skull of a horse on the threshold of the front door, in exchange for auspicious offers during the longest and darkest nights of the year. It is a common theme in many traditions of the Northern Hemisphere where winter is exorcised, a symbol of physical Death and spiritual introspection, inviting Her to the table and offering Her gifts in exchange for another lucky year in this plane of existence. And not even Christianisation and centuries of occupation have managed to eradicate this tradition so alive and so ancient and rooted in the Celtic heart of Wales.

"Mari Lwyd, Horse of Frost, Star-horse, and White Horse of the Sea, is

carried to us.

The Dead return.

Those Exiles carry her, they who seem holy and have put on corruption,

they who seem corrupt and have put on holiness.

They strain against the door.

They strain towards the fire which fosters and warms the Living"

VERNON WATKINS, THE BALLAD OF THE MARI LWYD

♃Ludna

Clicca qui per leggere questo post in Italiano

Saint Lucy - The Return of the Sacred Light

When I think of the Christmases of my childhood, I would be hypocritical to say that I think of the figure of Santa Claus. No, that came later - when I was then a little less susceptible to the magical charm of the holiday season. I don't even think of the Epiphany or the Three Kings, deeply felt traditions in Southern Europe but not in the heart of North East Italy…Yule, the winter solstice, was a rather recent discovery for me.

Being Venetian, born and raised in Verona, I can't help but associate this period of the year with the 13th December. A date that will make me think forever of childish enthusiasm, bated breath, going to bed early with the hope of making the morning arrive in the blink of an eye... The next day, in fact, was not just any day: finally the year-long wait ended and I would find the gifts brought in the night by Saint Lucy.

According to the Veronese custom, the Saint would pass from house to house between the 12th and the 13th December, riding a donkey, leaving gifts and sweets for the children; who went to bed leaving offerings and food for her and her mount.

Typically, she is depicted as a blind woman, dressed in white and wearing a crown of candles as a headdress.

The interesting thing is that Saint Lucia is not celebrated only in Veneto, but in various areas of Italy, Croatia, Hungary and even up to Scandinavia - a land that is so distant, both geographically and culturally, from the origins of the celebration. 

But let's go in order, who was Saint Lucy?

Lucy (or Lucia, in Italian), in reality, is of Sicilian origin - where she is still celebrated today with long processions, lighting of candles and abstention from the consumption of wheat on December 13th. This tradition has ancient origins, memories of a terrible famine that struck Sicily and, during the day dedicated to the saint, it is said that a ship loaded with wheat appeared on its shores - finally feeding the exhausted population. Hence the figure of Saint Lucy as the bearer of gifts… At least, according to the Catholic Church.

Although there are no confirmed historical sources, Lucy was born in Syracuse in the year 283 AD - from a wealthy family of Christian faith. Devoted only to God, she did not want to submit to an arranged marriage in order to follow her religious vocation.

Legend has it that she brought food to persecuted Christians, hidden in the absolute darkness of the catacombs, illuminating her path with the dim light of candles - which became one of the symbols par excellence of the saint.

She died in 304 AD, executed thanks to the ferocious persecution against Christians perpetrated under the emperor Diocletian - denounced by her own husband, who did not want to accept her refusal. At first, guards tried to set her on fire, but her strong faith in God made her unburnable so she was then killed with a dagger and eye gouged - taking away her beautiful eyes.

As you can easily expect, the feast of Saint Lucy is nothing more than another pagan holiday that has been Christianized over the centuries. The name itself, Lucia, means "light" from the Latin "lux": in fact, the return of light is the main theme of this holiday (remember the candles?), like so many solstice festivals celebrated in this period.

The symbols of the saint themselves are actually solar symbols: the crown of candles, the blond hair with which she is usually represented, the eyes on the tray, the ears of wheat (later wisely replaced by the palm grove in her iconography, symbol of martyrdom), the sword… In the northern Italian tradition, she is represented by riding a donkey.

Another recurring theme in the myths of Santa Claus and the Befana, symbolizing the shamanic flight and the Wild Hunt.

*** Click here to read our article on Krampus, the Wild Hunt and other winter traditions.

Not surprisingly, before the introduction of the Gregorian calendar in 1582, the Winter Solstice fell precisely on December 13: even now, in fact, there are several proverbs linked to the days that gradually become longer, after the long darkness.

I leave you the Veronese version below:

De Santa Lussia na ponta de ucia,

De Nadal el passo de on gal,

De l'Epifania el passo de na stria,

De Sant'Antonio el passo de un demonio,

De San Bastian un'ora e on passo de can.

On Saint Lucy (13th December), the point of a needle

At Christmas (25th December), the step of a rooster,

On the Epiphany (6th January), the step of a witch

On Saint Anthony (17th January), the devil's step

On Saint Sebastian (20th January), one hour and one dog step

The Sacred Light of Northern Europe

It is not clear how an Italian saint is venerated in Scandinavia, where her celebration is even
more popular than in her native country. The cult is thought to have arrived during the Middle Ages, carried by Catholic missionaries; then being syncretised with local customs.

It seems that it was precisely the return of the Sacred Light that made the saint so loved in Scandinavia, where the evangelization came much later than the rest of Europe: it is not so much the figure of Lucy that is celebrated, but the meaning behind it.

In the heart of winter, people could only take advantage of a few hours of light before the cold darkness fell again; the winter solstice was therefore eagerly awaited in order to finally be able to return to the comfort of the light and warmth of the coming season.

Traditionally, on the night of December the 12th, the vigil (Lussevaka) was celebrated: during the then longest night, the Earth was believed to be infested with hordes of evil spirits; it was customary to stay awake until dawn, safe in the homes lit by many candles, to make sure that none of them crossed the threshold.

On the morning of December 13th, dawn would then come (in this case, symbolised by Lucy), dispelling the darkness and bringing relief and awareness that the longest night had finally come to an end.

Nowadays, tradition has it that a member of the family (usually the eldest daughter), impersonates the figure of the saint and takes care of preparing typical sweets and hot drinks to be served to begin the celebration of Lucia Dag.

And on this day, wherever you are, I wish you a peaceful celebration: may Lucy bring you light in a world that at the moment needs to find its way again, in this long winter. A light of comfort, joy and carefree laughter - like happy memories of our childhood.

I, of course, will spend the day wrapped in the most beautiful memories and greeting the return of the sun.

Bright Blessings.

♃Ludna

Clicca qui per leggere questo post in Italiano

 

Love Thyself - Crisis of Faith, Self Care and Ramblings of a Lesser Witch

2020 was a year that deprived us of many things: those who lost their jobs, those who lost someone dear, those who lost their freedom. We knew from the beginning that it would not be a year like any other, given the astrological picture that has accompanied us in recent months.

And we are not yet at the end of this mad rush! In December another important planetary conjunction awaits us: on December 21st Saturn and Jupiter will unite under the progressive sign of Aquarius, bringing further shocks to the current global situation. We also remind you that the 21st December will mark also the Winter Solstice (or Summer Solstice, depending on where you are), another very important date from an esoteric and energetic point of view.

If you have been bored so far between climate change, pandemics, riots, social justice and international political crises; fasten your seat belts well because we are flying one more time.

Yet, despite all this fervour on both the subtle and the mundane planes, not all of us felt electrified by this energy boost - for better or for worse.

I myself, despite having tried to inspire souls to take a position in a year so unique in its terrible singularity, I have often found myself helpless in the face of all this, losing my feisty attitude.

My altar, although it is still decorated for every sabbat, has been waiting patiently to be used for months - apart from sporadic magical work.

And that's okay.

Why am I telling you this?

Because, like probably many of you, I felt guilty for my negligence. Inadequate. Weak. Not worthy of the practice.

There are heavy energies all around: the Earth suffers, humanity suffers.

So many of us have found themselves dealing with anxiety and depression at best.

This feeling is further amplified by the omnipresent and oppressive media presence of pagan influencers, pass me the term: instagram, pinterest and tiktok (or "witch-tok", if you are part of the community) are studded with #aesthetic photos, always on the hunt of the perfect chromatic combination and the most captivating font.

Like everything, spirituality has become the object of pride and consumerist accumulation of trendy witchy items, bought from famous e-shops.

We must remind ourselves that not all that glitters is gold: the web is a flashy showcase, but it is not a window to the real world.

Just as we cannot compete with the influencers, queens of Photoshop, in the same way ostentatious spirituality is probably not a mirror of a person's personal practice.

A jumble of magical tools nicely arranged in a #witchaesthetic photo doesn't suddenly make us enlightened gurus.

We must learn to accept it and, above all, to accept ourselves.

You cannot expect to be able to practice on the subtle level if you are not healthy on the material level, both from a physical and mental point of view.

Does this make us witches worse than others?

Absolutely not.

Each of us is a different person, with a unique story behind them, with different problems and situations. We cannot in the least compare ourselves to another person, as each of us is unique in the world - and fortunately, because diversity is what makes us wonderfully human!

The main thing is to get to know yourself and know your limits, on every level.

It seems like a cliché, but the first step to love ourselves is acceptance.

This does not mean, of course, giving up on continuously improving (we’re living this life to learn a lesson, after all) but I also invite you to love yourself and not be a slave to such a competitive world. Especially in a historical moment like this, where we are all inclined to jump to the throat of others for the most futile reasons.

What other things can we do next, then, to help us feel better about ourselves?

☽ Disconnect from the media! It is important to stay up to date on what's going on in the world, but if you are feeling low and have anxiety problems, surely the last thing you need is more negative news, over which we have no control, and the usual biased debate between users. As explained above, they increase competition anxiety and a sense of inadequacy if we don't feel fit to practice as we would like.

☽ Another thing probably trivial but worth mentioning: connect with Nature. In general, our society has detached itself from the sacredness of Mother Earth in the name of the god of capitalism - causing deep generational wounds. The one and only underlying cause of racism, climate change, any pandemics and so on: the lack of empathy that connects us to the thin energetic web of the cosmos.

And if you live in a populous city, don't despair: Gaia can be found everywhere, even in the smallest corners of a metropolis. You don't need to be in an impenetrable forest to connect to Earth.

**Click here to learn how to reconnect with Nature**

**Click here to learn about Genius Loci**

☽ Furthermore, we are going through a very delicate period: Samhain (or Beltaine) is approaching and the veil that separates our world from other dimensions, is thinning more and more. This year, in particular, will be even more challenging than usual given today's climate.

It is natural that the energies in circulation are heavy and not particularly positive, so an energetic cleaning is recommended - in order to lighten the environment around you.

**Click here for some useful tips on how to cleanse your house from negative energies** 

☽ A method that can help us get back into the magical perspective is to fix a routine, without too many complicated rituals: just light an incense in the morning, as a small thanks, or a moment of meditation in the evening.

The third eye is an organ like any other, the more we train it, the easier it will be to practice. I, for example, am a creature of habit who only works with a list in front of my face and having a magical routine helps me a lot in staying anchored to the practice.

☽ If you feel like it, this is a great time to start doing Shadow Work. While it is natural to want to return to light and carefree, one must take note of one's dark side: darkness is part of us, as much as it is our bright side. Don't try to hide it under the rug, hug it.

☽ Seek professional help, in case you feel the need. These tips are designed to help you but do not substitute medical help or therapy you are following in the slightest.

This feel-good society has taught us that only light, goodness, life and love are positive and
useful, completely ignoring that grey area that sooner or later will catch up with us. 

In fact, in this modern age, we no longer know how to manage emotions that are considered "negative" such as anger, sadness, grief, etc. And when there are times when we feel down, we don't know how to react.

So, why do Shadow Work? This practice helps us to identify our weaknesses and the skeletons hidden in the closet, through a real inner journey. And what better time of the year than during the descent into darkness?

And therefore, during our journey towards the darkest part of the year, I hope that the advice above has been useful to you and I wish you a peaceful - however complex - descent into womb of Mother Earth. Have courage, embrace it: make it your ally to improve yourself.

♃Ludna

Clicca qui per leggere questo post in Italiano

Waldeinsamkeit - Thoughts on Genius Loci and Covid

The Moon Rising as The Milky Way Sets - © Chad Powell Photography 2019

Those who also know me in my private life, know that I am a tireless traveller: my unstoppable desire for wanderlust, always pushes me in search of new places, intense colours, exotic dishes to savour and dive into cultures far from mine.

Probably I inherited a little the curiosity that characterises me from my father, who travelled in his time far and wide on the continent armed with a camera, an old and broken-down car and a sleeping bag during the glorious 70s, a little might be thanks to my Aquarius placements; as soon as I was old enough to travel, I found myself on a plane to explore horizons other than the usual Veronese sky I was used to.

After travelling most of my dear Europe, so familiar yet so multifaceted at the same time, I decided to change continent. I then hopped to Thailand, Cambodia, India until my recent trip to the United States of America.

2020 not only marked a new decade, a new era for everyone - both numerologically and astrologically: 2020 was to be my year for travel too. My partner and I had planned Morocco, Norway, Madagascar and probably South America at the end of last year.

And instead, here we are. Like the rest of humanity, we find ourselves forced into our small island. Literally, since our house is located in a strip of land off the English Channel.
When the pandemic started, our reaction was of dismay and uncertainty, not knowing what we were dealing with. Until resignation and acceptance, a process I believe can be shared with the rest of humanity.

As we have mentioned in several articles, nothing happens by chance: this virus is a reminder for us to make us understand we are living the wrong lifestyle, both spiritually and not. Fruit of a consumerist way of life, reckless and not in line with the laws of Mother Earth, it forced us to stop and reconsider our actions. It will then be up to us to decide whether we want to learn from this lesson or whether we want to persevere on our journey, then paying the consequences again in the near future.

Having said that, what lesson can I have learned - personally?

In recent years I admit that I felt confused, I may have gone through perhaps what is called a crisis of faith: while my esoteric knowledge grew exponentially in a theoretical way, my sensitivity to the world of the occult that led me to approach it in the first place, it was getting thinner and thinner. I could read voluminous tomes on how to connect with spirits, but I no longer felt that shiver at the base of the spine that made me excited during my first, rudimentary rituals.

Why?

The answer is very simple, and it has been under my nose all this time. But I was too focused on everything else to realise it: a busy working life, a social life to be maintained both in reality and in the social media sphere and various frivolities filled my time but took away the focus from the essential. I was so used to getting on a plane, to get out of the routine, to convince myself to look for beauty elsewhere - completely forgetting to really appreciate the land in which I live.

Twilight at Mount Bay -
© Chad Powell Photography 2019

That same land that offered me comfort and wonder when I moved to England: away from 
smartphones, social media, work and commitments. I didn't know anyone, I didn't have a job, I didn't have a smartphone and I limited my online presence to sporadic access in front of an old laptop. 
My only company, during my long hours of solitude, were my thoughts and the beauty of nature around me: the impervious cliffs, the intoxicating scent of foxglove, the green open spaces kissed by the sun, the shady woods ... That amazement which then became apathy and habit, like covid.

During this forced break, not being able to get away to chase that traveller's thrill and nauseated by the toxicity of the media, I learned again to appreciate the beauty that surrounds me and to enjoy the company of Mother Earth. Far from human beings full of resentment, frustration and ignorance.

I am isolating myself, I am detoxifying, I am finally aligning myself with the rhythms of the spirits around me. This was the lesson I was taught: I forgot to honour the sacred land on which I live, consequently moving away from its power and losing my vision as a Witch. Yet the answer has always been there, under my nose. But sometimes we need to go against a wall, to realise what we are doing incorrectly.

That's why I no longer felt like a powerful, aware Witch: the more I studied, the more stupidly I walked away from Gaia.

Waldeinsamkeit is a German word, made up of wald-woods and einsamkeit-solitude. It is a word that contains the feeling of wandering in solitude in the forest, in symbiosis with nature. A word that does not have a translation into another language outside of German, but a mood certainly known to many of us.

As I mentioned in my very first posts, my first rituals all took place in the woods. A wonderful forest, located at the gates of Verona and at the foot of the Alps, where nature made sure that I found my calling.

The feeling of being a parallel dimension, where everything remains suspended in fragments of time, is indescribable. The smell of the undergrowth, the lapping of the waters, the lazy buzzing of a bee. It is here, where the sunlight barely filters through the leaves of the trees, that the Gods walk among us.

Where I currently reside, I am fortunate to have an ancient forest near my home. Parkhurst Forest covers 500 hectares with oaks, conifers and thick undergrowth; one of the last strongholds of the red squirrel - now extinct in most of the country, supplanted by the grey squirrel.

This forest, sometimes obscure, healed me in one of the darkest moments of my life: on a rainy day, I decided to follow one of the less travelled paths and go into the green meanders of the forest. I was the only person in the woods that day, and I stripped myself of all the pain and ghosts that tormented me. I found myself dancing in the rain, singing and feeling free as never before in my whole life.

And here I am, after years, once again to retrace these forgotten paths to pay homage to the ancient spirits who welcomed and healed me - calling me after all these years, while I was groping in the dark looking for answers. It is funny how nothing is casual in esotericism, in one way or another we always get where we need to go.
Nothing will ever give me the same feeling of tranquillity, peace and inclusion as walking in nature - not even getting on a plane in search of divine illumination on the banks of the Ganges.

This I feel like telling you, in the light of my quarantine reflections: study, travel, learn as much as you can, broaden your horizons. But never forget to relate to your land, you don't have to go to the top of a mountain. Even the city park of your country is full of microcosms and spirits, just connect to it. If you take care of the earth, the earth will take care of you.

Both in our small ways and in the grand scheme of things.

Being disconnected, believing ourselves to be gods on Earth and trampling and mistreating our ecosystems have led us to today's situation: deforestation, intensive breeding, unbridled industry are the causes of climate change, covid and suffering that we are living as a planet and humanity. It all comes together to be distant from Gaia, let's start again from small things to build a world that lives up to everyone's rights.

♃Ludna

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Aquae Sulis - The Celtic heart of Roman Britain

In Southern England we can find a real historical and architectural jewel, set in the green English countryside: the town of Bath. We are in Somerset - a region that, as we have already seen speaking of Glastonbury, stands out for the number of sites of esoteric interest on its territory.

The name of Bath derives, of course, from "baths", in fact this place was an important thermal establishment during the Roman occupation. But it would be simplistic to classify it only as such, as it was also a place of worship for the Celts in the first place and for the Romans later.

The sacred waters, considered miraculous, originate from the subsoil: the millenary rains, poured over the centuries on the Mendip Hills, penetrated into the calcareous layers of the soil where, in depth, they reached a temperature of about 96 ° C. The water pressure, overheated, brought the underground watercourse back to the surface, giving rise to its famous source: a natural pool, emerald in color and with crimson grinding of iron, wrapped in the fumes of steam raised in the icy winter air ... There is no doubt as to why the people of that time considered this wonder to be the work of the Gods.

Studies show that the source has been in use for at least 10,000 years, but we have the first concrete evidence with the arrival of the Celts in Britain in 700 BC, who circumscribed the perimeter with wooden structures for ritual purposes.

They believed that this magical place, with its healing properties, was the work of the Goddess Sul - a Celtic goddess patron of medicine, healing and fertility. Coins were found on the bottom of the spring, proving the theory that the population used the body of water as a channel of communication with the divine, leaving offers in the hope of gaining her favour.

THE GODDESS SULIS-MINERVA

Sul or Sulis was a deity worshiped in the neighboring areas of this magical source. Unlike today's widespread neo-pagan concept of female lunar deity, she is a solar goddess.

The etymology of her name is not entirely clear, the most accepted theory is that the word comes from the Proto-Celtic sūli: one of the many suffixes for the word "sun", of Indo-European derivation (see ηέλιος "elios" in Greek, "sūryah" in Sanskrit, "suhlio" in Proto-Indo-European). From this root, the word "súil" (eye) in Irish Archaic and "licat" would also derive, meaning both "eye" and "source" in Archaic Welsh.

As mentioned above, she is mainly associated with healing and fertility but also with clairvoyance; like many other goddesses she has an ambivalent nature.

Sulis was often invoked to protect those who suffered wrong and to curse the perpretants, as a guarantor of justice.

In the museum of Roman baths we can admire 130 pewter tablets, on which there are inscriptions of curses and invocations to the goddess to get personal vendettas. Normally it was a question of profit for small thefts, often occurring inside the establishment: small sums of money, clothes or personal items. These tablets, moreover, have an inestimable historical value, being probably among the only written examples of the Celtic language.

The Romans, who arrived in Somerset in 43 AD during their British occupation campaign, immediately recognized the sacredness of the place. Despite their frenzied thirst for expanding the Empire, they used to respect local deities - often syncretizing them with their gods (Interpretatio romana).

Learning soon about the benevolent nature and the strong sense of justice of Sulis, it was not difficult to associate her with Minerva - the beloved goddess patron of reason, wisdom and heroic virtues, as well as protector of artisans. Her cult was widespread in the Empire, testimonies of her devotion were found in all the Roman provinces and was often assimilated to other deities such as the Celtic Brigantia or the kemetic Neith.

Sulis-Minerva, with her miraculous healing qualities, also became popular among Roman soldiers: many veterans of war, afflicted by old wounds and aches, relied on her care and her spring to receive the benefits. During the military campaign, artisans and merchants moved to expand their businesses in these new provinces, while some aoldiers decided to start a new life at Aquae Sulis - thus turning this natural temple into a thriving merchant centre.

The fervent economy and the growing popularity of the cult of the goddess, led to the decision to honour the sacred source by building one of the most important spas and places of worship in the British provinces.

THE TEMPLE AND THE BATHS

To transform a wonderful natural source into an equally astonishing architectural work, it took the expert Roman engineering. It was an ambitious project: the source was the realm of the severe goddess Sulis and also a fragile environment, being a geothermal location and therefore required a more complex hydraulics.

Wood and stone were transported along the banks of the Avon river, while clay tiles were imported from Wiltshire, experts rushed from the imperial provinces to watch the work; finished in 75 d.c. By the year 100 AD Bath was a lively commercial, recreational and religious centre - considered one of the "most sophisticated cities of Roman Britain".

The baths became so popular that pilgrims regularly visited the town to honour Sulis Minerva and take advantage of the thermal waters; the constant flow of wayfarers led to a fervent building expansion, further transforming the thermal complex.

The original woodland clearing, venerated by the Celts, was then enclosed in a barrel-faced structure, dimly lit by candlelight and surrounded by columns and statues - enriching the mystical atmosphere.

The Temple, built adjacent to the spring, was built in a classical style (unusual, in Roman Britain): inside was the statue of the goddess, illuminated by the sacred fire. The complex stood on a podium two meters high from the mosaic paved area; to surround the whole, there was a colonnaded ambulatory in Corinthian style.

With the spreading of Christianity in Europe, this imposing place of pray fell into disuse - until the eventual collapse of the building. Fortunately, in addition to traces of  the original structure, invaluable archaeological finds were found: silent witnesses of a distant, forgotten era.

THE GODDESS STATUE

The bronze head of Sulis Minerva is one of the most famous finds in Roman Britain: its discovery, in 1727, suggested that Bath was not an archaeological site like any other.

Probably it was part of the statue that resided inside the Temple, towering above the sacrificial altar.

Considering the size of the head, we can only imagine the authority that could inspire Sulis Minerva, illuminated only by the meandering flames of the sacred brazier. Small holes in the hair reveal that there was probably a Corinthian helmet fixed on the head, unfortunately lost in the mists of time.

THE GORGON’S HEAD

The temple had numerous unusual features for Roman architecture: among these, the elaborate pediment with a Gorgon's head in the center, supported by two winged creatures in a clipeus, was prominent. Supported by four, 15-meter tall columns, it must have been a very powerful vision for those approaching the temple.

The pediment boasts several symbols: in the corners there are tritons, half-fish creatures and half-men servants of the god Neptune. At the bottom left there is a dolphin-shaped helmet, while in the right corner we have an owl (symbol of Minerva).

Various controversies have arisen to determine the identity of the Gorgon: in fact, despite having wings over the ears and snakes entwined in the beard, the depicted face is masculine, while, according to tradition, the Gorgon was a female creature killed by the hero Perseus with the help of Athena (the Greek counterpart of Minerva). Once defeated, Perseus gave her head to the goddess, who exposed her on her breastplate - what better symbolism, for a temple dedicated to the Roman Minerva?

Another theory suggests that the Gorgon is instead a representation of the god Oceanus,

the titan master of the waters. The cult of the Ocean was widespread in Roman Britain: legionaries obviously had to cross the English Channel to land in the present-day United Kingdom, so it was in their interest to grace the god. Emperor Severus even minted coins with the head of Oceanus on one side, the head of Neptune on the other; while on the bridges there were sometimes sacrificial altars dedicated to these two deities - to pay a pledge, in exchange for their protection near bodies of water.

One of the symbols associated with the Titan was in fact the dolphins, found also on the pediment.

Another theory instead associates this mysterious figure with a solar Celtic divinity, Belenos: however unlikely it may seem that the Romans funded a similar work, the pediment author was a Gaul and could have created a tribute to his patron deity.

We will probably never know the truth behind this enigmatic figure, we can only limit ourselves to immerse in the sacred atmosphere of Aquae Sulis, marveling at this architectural masterpiece, reverberations of time and space that reached us over the centuries.

♃Ludna

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