Origins

What calls you to a place? A path? A sacred text? What is the source of that invisible bell tolling a tone only you can hear? We speak of callings. Being called to a profession, a city, a tree. People come to my work more often than not, because I speak within the textured landscape of honeybees. They share a feeling of being called by the bees. I too had a similar call, but it didn’t start with bees. I’m not exactly sure where or when it started, but a I recall a similar bell tolling through my being on a school trip to England at the age of 17. I was part of a high school band visiting and performing in Cornwall. We were on a bus with the usual chaos of a bunch of kids who couldn’t care less about the landscape we were passing through. But I knew. I was aware of just how many sacred sites piled atop one another. I put my headphones on, leaned against the window, and transported myself outside, galloping on a horse along the green road. I merged. I journeyed. Without framework, or definitions, I intuitively traveled the inner pathways of my imaginal self and experience a different state of being, where I got to weave through the standing stones no one spared a second glance for. Where I was wild, and free, and alive in a brightly living ancient landscape. The Celtic soul of the land was ringing its fairy bells, and I was following.

The bees brought me back to England for many years after, as I found myself drawn to an obscure spiritual pathway that somehow combined the taste of my many years of Celtic studies with something ineffable and yet utterly housing me in my own body, in the midst of modernity. It was the first time I no longer needed to cast a lonely gaze back to antiquity, because in these practices I found a way to be a woman, here in a broken America, able to function in the modern world, with the mysteries alive all around her.

Colonialism and Christianity, the old buddies that they are, didn’t just steal the heart, land, and culture of other continents. It did it right in the great backyard of Europe first.

Women’s spirituality, folk traditions, and indigenous, local practices and ways of life were oppressed, suppressed, overwritten, or destroyed in the name of one male god.

Ways of thinking and ways of life were dramatically altered. This part is important, because the world view that supports the vibrate, living, animate Earth was replaced with what we have now. The modern West lives in a Christocentric, scientifically-based society, built within a framework of Patriarchy and colonialism that values certain types of peoples, behavior, and knowledge above and to the detriment of others.

This thinking permeates all of our systems. It affects our ways of relating, parenting, and working. While I adore the intellect, and love love love some good science, we are out of balance. The one truth, one god, one explanation, singular deduction model leaves little room for hunches, intuitive tugs, nuance, and a little everyday witchery. Ironic then, that so many of our greatest discoveries have come from hunches.

Even within spiritual pathways of non-Christian origin, we still seek that which is pure, proven, and backed by empirical evidence. I see it all the time in my work. I see it in myself - a desire to find “THE” origin.

Could it be that part of our desire to find and practice something of pure origins is ingrained in our psyche due to one book being referenced as an ultimate truth for centuries? Could this drumming of “only one God” into our collective psyche have affected our ability to hold nuance? Is this, in part, where we get the eternal damnation of cancel culture? Although at this point, the rise in cancel culture does serve to hold accountable the damage done by the power structures of colonialism, patriarchy, and white supremacy, and in this there is absolutely a place for the collective call out.

Other schools of thought and animistic ways of being or world views were never pure in origin, because there was no one ultimate supreme being. There are thousands of variations of spirit, alive and well, all around us, available to us, and part of the fabric of who and what we are.

There are cultural origins. There are place-based origins. But for any tradition to survive into the modern era (without the peoples being relatively isolated), the peoples will have met other peoples from other regions, and swapped, shared, integrated, and adapted spiritual and folk practices based on that exposure, whether that exposure is seen as positive or negative. It’s just like myths and stories. You can find them again and again, wearing different clothes and different faces, if you look. There will never be a pure origin, because that’s not how folk traditions or animism works.

Animism works in direct relationship to a vibrant, living, ensouled world. A world we can cultivate relationship with on a daily basis.

One of the affirming and beautiful things about animistic and spiritual traditions, is that you can often find mirrors and similar practices across the globe and through time. Spiritual truths having been reached by various cultures, individuals, and groups that are echoed in other practices, such as the common symbol of a great tree of life between the earth and the cosmos.

We also often see an attitude of exclusivity and originality that permeates spiritual pathways. Really, what we’re looking at in differing traditions is a particular hue in a wide color pallet of experiences. One hue might speak more to your particular relationship with the world than another. The flavor and spirits of the desert might resonate with you, while the teachings that emerged from the jungle or a snowy mountainous region might resonate with another. It’s the same with particular animals, elements, or plants functioning as spirit guides and motifs for spiritual insight or growth. What one learns from the bee might be quite specific to the bees themselves, and that very beeness is what opens up pathways of insight and epiphany within particular individuals. The language of fire, or the calling of a god of gateways might be the basis for another tradition that speaks more directly to a different individual.

This does not mean it’s acceptable to blatantly appropriate indigenous cultural practices and rebrand them in a glossy western package. But it does mean that when looking at, for instance, spiritual traditions emerging out of Europe, where women’s spirituality and indigenous wisdom was systematically destroyed? We find it in the remnants, layers upon layers of beliefs and practices borrowed from many cultures echoing each other.

The point I’m making is that every animistic or folk tradition that inspires you has no definitive origins, but did at some point emerge from people who were living in a way that was informed by very specific spirits of the land and the ancestors associated with that land, plant, animal, weather pattern, etc. Some of these, in turn, met with other peoples from other lands. Other peoples who also had direct experiences with spirit, the gods, place. These traditions, practices, ceremonies, beliefs, were woven together to form an ever expanding tapestry of relationship to that which we call the divine.

Folk traditions and spiritual traditions kept going. Kept evolving. Kept being added to. Kept borrowing from other places, other peoples. Nothing is stagnant. Nothing sits only in ancient origins. Everything is always being added to and created. Feels sticky and confusing doesn’t it? How do we hold this ever evolving form of spirituality as true, but also stand against the appropriation of indigenous traditions?

In the bee tradition I practice, some pieces were brought in from Wales, others from Lithuania, others, it is said, came from Ancient Greece. During my studies of bee shamanism, my teacher, Naomi Lewis brought in the Meisner-based work of Kate Maravan. My other teacher, Kate Shela, brought in her incredible dance and embodiment work, adding this to what was passed down. The “tradition" evolved before my eyes, and brought me ever-closer to myself.

If you are part of the global west that has been severed from its animistic origins, then you’ve also most likely been heavily influence by a dominant world view that is Christocentric, monotheistic, and based on rational thinking.

The Christocentric view of a single truth, written down for all time as the Word, is false even in its own making. We know there were many gospels, many accounts, of the teachings of Jesus and his disciples. But nonetheless this pervasive idea of one origin, one truth, influences even our thinking around finding the one truth or one origin of folk traditions or modern spiritual practice.

When I was studying at University in Ireland, I focused my final paper on the conversion from Paganism to Christianity in Europe from the 5-9th century. What I was struck by was how there wasn’t just one “pagan” religion in old Europe as I had naively perceived (influenced by a Christocentric telling of history). There were many local flavors and variations centered around a worldview that supported interaction with the living spirits of the land, and later Gods/Goddesses, who were eventually vilified or became Saints.

Furthermore, these Pagans of various beliefs and practice were constantly borrowing and adopting from each other, both from invading and conquering groups, as well as through trade. What then counts as authentic origin? What if some of these practices and beliefs survived into the modern era by hiding in plain sight? By adopting Christianity, and molding pre-Christian beliefs and practice into their version of Christianity? Who gets to claim rights to such things as the Easter egg, Halloween costume, or Christmas tree?

Some bells that ring through us will never be backed by proof of their truth, singular origin, or even come with enough material to satisfy your thirst for more. Sometimes, all we get is a tattered fragment of an ancient poem to spark something so deep, we must pursue it. In doing so, we find that ultimately, the only way to spiritual truth is through your own relationship to the gods, plentiful in their numbers.

The Twelve Days of Yuletide Revisited

Last winter I wrote a series of twelve posts on Yuletide. Each post honored a theme or tradition associated with the pre-Christian winter holidays in old Europe. I have complied them here in one long post for you to browse through. Enjoy!

The First Day of Yuletide

MOTHER’S NIGHT

December 20

For the next twelve days I am going to be doing a series on some of the Old European traditions associated midwinter. We begin with the twelve days themselves.

We all know the popular song, but what are the twelve days of Christmas? If you go looking, you’ll likely be told the 12 days of Christmas begin on Christmas Day and end on January 6th. From the birth of Christ to the coming of the three wise men. Twelve days plucked from the people who celebrated the Earth and handed in a neat little package of Christian theology, avoiding old traditions like Mother’s Night.

So what are the original twelve days of Christmas? To understand this, we must first recall that prior to Christianity there were centuries of celebration at midwinter. In fact, in the Roman Empire, 250 years after the birth of Christ, the people celebrated the 25th of December as the rebirth of the Sol Invictus, the “Unconquerable Sun”. In early Christianity, there were even some who claimed the Nativity was on summer solstice. It’s important to remember that what’s in the Bible we know today was decided upon. There is actually no biblical evidence of Christ being born at midwinter, but since midwinter is a time when people celebrate the return of the the light (literally, the sun), it only made sense to meld the birth of the Christian saviour with pre-existing rituals. Christianity couldn’t quite do away with long-standing folk traditions, so it absorbed them, making slight alterations.

One of those alterations was to change the dates of the twelve days of Yuletide, and give each day to a Saint. Nice and tidy. The original twelve days actually begin on Mother’s night, the eve of winter solstice. Today. December 20th.

Mother’s Night comes from Scandinavian and Anglo-Saxon traditions. In the Norse tradition, this night celebrated the Dísir or ancestral mothers. The Dísir were the Old Ones: ancestral grandmothers who blessed, protected and provided prophetic counsel to the clan. This is a night for holding vigil through the dark.



The Second Day of Yuletide

YULE/WINTER SOLSTICE/MIDWINTER

Today marks the shortest day of the year, followed by the longest night. Back when calendars followed the season and cycles of the stars, the solstices were times of lasting festivals and holy observances. In some places like the Celtic Isles, Winter’s Night was a time when the flame or light of the previous year was burned through the night, to usher in the dawning of the light on the following morning. In this way, the flame of the old year ignites the new year.

In continuation with my 12 days of Yuletide exploration, I give you the Yule Log. All across old Europe, it was customary to fell a tree, usually Oak, Spruce or Pine, and drag it through the village to eventually be placed upon the hearth and burned through Solstice Night and sometimes beyond. The ash from the log was often saved and used in various cultures to bless the crops, aid in fertility, protect against storms, and heal the sick.

I’m calling it the Yule log because that is how it was popularised by Victorian Era England, but it has many names and many customs tied to it. Yule is derived from Juul, a Scandinavian midwinter feast when a Juul Log was burned in honour of the Lightning God, Thor. In France, the Tréfoir de Nöel was burned for all 12 nights of Christmas, and the ashes were saved to protect against lightning strikes. In Italy, the log was laid upon Juniper boughs, which coins were placed upon it. In England, a branch from the old log of the year before was saved to light the new.

One of my favourite associations is the connection between the Yule log and the snake, described by 

archaeologist Marija Gimbutas She discusses how the log is a representation of the snake, or the “life force” of the earth and symbolises renewal. In the Scottish Highlands, the Yule log is the Cailléach, the Old Hag/Woman who was burned to make way for the renewal of life. As such, the ash, once again, had the healing powers of fertility.

You may not have a hearth, but you can follow the footsteps of folk traditions by lighting a candle at dusk or greeting the sun at dawn.

-Art by Harriet M. Bennett-

The Third Day of Yuletide

MISTLETOE

“The Druids held nothing more sacred than the mistletoe and the tree that bears it, always supposing that tree to be the oak….They call the mistletoe by a name meaning, in their language, the all-healing.” - Pliny

It has not been so very long that we have lived as if our lives did not depend on the crops, the seasons and the forces that move determine them. When dark winter reigned, people looked to that which brings life. They looked to the sun deities of rebirth. They looked to the fertile promise of life held within the female form, honouring traditions like mother’s night. They also looked to that which lasts even in the heart of winter. This is where the tradition of bringing the ever-green into the home to deck the halls and the mantle. The holly, ivy, pine, fir and of course, mistletoe. It only makes sense that this sacred all-healing herb of fertility found its way into our modern traditions, without losing its essence of the promise of life. For what does a kiss under the mistletoe represent at its heart? The promise of love, life, and renewal. As a side note, mistletoe wasn’t the only green associated with kissing. In parts of England, there was also a “kissing bush” made from evergreen and holly, and filled with red apples or red paper “roses”.

While popularised as a kissing sprig for the hopeful, it has other folk customs associated with it. In France it is given as a gift on New Year symbolising peace and luck. In Sweden, similar to the Yule log ash, the mistletoe was placed on doors and mantles to protect from lightning. In England it was given to athletes because it held all the distilled “soul” or power of the Oak tree it grew up.

Whether you are decking the halls with sprigs of mistletoe for fertility, for luck, for peace or for strength, remember it is an utterly pagan tradition that remained strong, despite the Church trying to ban it. I would like to think that’s because nobody wants to get rid of a tradition that involves kissing in the darkest time of the year. This was the time of year that the wild revelry of Roman Saturnalia took place after all.

The Fourth Day of Yuletide

DEER MOTHER

Once upon a time, a great forest blanketed the northern lands. It stretched from Scandinavia to the British Isles, and from Siberia over the land bridge into North America. Moving through that forest were those who knew the silver tracks of the old ways: the deer and their people.

Today, this great forest has diminished, and the way of life for its indigenous guardians is threatened. We call this forest of the north the Taiga or the Boreal forest and out of it’s depths comes one of our most beloved winter fairy tales.

It was always the reindeer that truly captured my childhood imagination: a sleigh of flying deer, spinning their way through the stars to land on my rooftop where I left carrots and cookies? How marvellous! But Santa’s reindeer have a much older origin and so does the elf himself.

The story of the reindeer came from the snow covered lands of Northern Europe where the people honoured Deer Mother. The reindeer is the only deer where the female is larger than the stag. Both male and female reindeer have antlers, but only the female retains her antlers in winter. Much like elephants, the oldest matriarch leads the herd. For the Sami people in northern Scandinavia, life depends on following the herds. There is an ancient marriage between the deer and the people. Deer bring life. On winter solstice, Deer Mother takes to the skies, carrying the light of the sun in her antlers, bringing rebirth to the land.

The cult of the deer stretches back 14,000 years and reaches across Asia, North America and most of Europe. There were a number of goddesses associated with the deer. One of these is Saule the sun goddess from Latvia and Lithuania. Saule rides across the sky at midwinter in a sleigh lead by reindeer. She weeps her tears (sacred waters) and each tear is forged into amber which she throws down to the people along with apples (often associated with fertility and eternal life). Deer mother is so enduring that she found her way into our modern myths and stories, even if obscured behind the Patriarchal wash over her most holy act.

The Fifth Day of Christmas

Santa

We discussed how re-branded Rudolf can be restored to proper status as Deer Mother. Following in suit, we can’t talk about flying reindeer without discussing the gnome. And by gnome I mean The Elf. Or the Shaman. Or the Spirit. Father Christmas. Papa Nöel. Saint Nicholas. Kris Kringle. You know, Santa.

Some folks like to source Santa’s origins in a 3rd century saint known as Nicholas, the patron saint of children. There are many different representations of a benevolent holy man who watches over children, so I have plenty of room for Saint Nicholas in my heart, but let’s not forget the true origins of the holy one in the sleigh.

There is a rich shamanic heritage connecting many modern day Christmas traditions with the Northern peoples. In particular, we owe much of our folk customs to the Evenki, or Tungusic people of Siberia; the reindeer herders (also the Sami to their west of Siberia). Aside from their dependence on reindeer in the long winters, the Northern shamanic cultures also have sacred ties to a red capped mushroom that grows symbiotically beneath evergreen trees. The Amanita Muscaria, or the Fy Agaric is exactly the mushroom you imagine when you think of Christmas gnomes and Santa. It is a psychoactive mushroom the people would harvest and dry by laying them on the branches of the evergreen trees, like our modern Christmas tree. The shaman would later collect them in a large sac and deliver them as gifts to the people. One of the attributes of the Amanita is indeed to cause one to “experience” flying and witness flight in other grounded creatures like the reindeer.

Amani ya brought health and well being, but it was also how the shaman and the people could travel to the spirit world and bring wisdom, knowledge and “gifts” back to the people. Did you know this is the culture were we actually get the word Shaman or šamán, meaning “one who knows.” No wonder Santa, bringing his gifts from the Otherworld, is the spirit of winter who “knows”. Tonight, when you leave your cookies by the chimney, leave a little something for the spirits who bestow their gifts this time of year.

The Sixth Day of Yuletide

THE CHRISTMAS TREE

That’s me (left) and my oldest friend at the ripe old age of 1.

If you’re following along with these posts, you have probably gathered that most of the Christmas traditions I’m sharing have older roots in Northern and Eastern Europe. There are some Roman influences, but overall, much of our winter celebrations come from the cold, snowy lands where sunlight is in short supply this time of year. The beloved Christmas Tree is no different.

As with most of these traditions, there is no hard and fast origin date or place for the Christmas tree. Decking the halls with boughs of holly and evergreen has been a practice among pre-Christian Europeans for centuries. Often branches of evergreens, symbolising the continuation and ever-renewing force of life on earth, would be placed over windows and doors, or decorating major festivals such as Roman Saturnalia. This Roman festival of wild revelry, celebrated during what is now modern day Christmas, was a festival of joy and merrymaking in honour of the God Saturn.

Most decorated evergreens were set up in village squares or paraded from house to house. It wasn’t until the Victorian era that the indoor Christmas tree decorated with candles became popularised. Queen Victoria’s husband, Prince Albert, was German and introduced many of our most popular Christmas traditions to the royal household and thus to England and the United States. In parts of Poland and other Eastern European countries, the top of a fir tree or a large branch was hung suspended from the ceiling, usually over the table. These were decorated with fruits and nuts. In Germany in the 16th century, there are records of trees also being decorated with dates, apples and other foods, as well as cut paper flowers.

The tradition of tinsel on the tree also comes from Eastern and Northern Europe, where strips of silver were hung from the tree. There is even a legend of a Christmas spider who weaves strands of silver and gold to decorate the tree as the family sleeps. In some places it is considered good luck to find a spider and her web in the Christmas tree.

The Seventh Day of Yuletide

THE CHRISTMAS WITCH

Ever heard of La Befana? She comes from an Italian legend connected to the birth of Jesus. La Befana's name is derived from the Greek word for Epiphany. The Epiphany is the day baby Jesus was revealed as the Son of God. The legend says the Three Magi stopped at La Befana’s home on their way to find the baby Jesus. She is described as an ugly, poor, old woman with a broom (recall the Cailleach of the Celts). The witch receives the three Magi. In some legends they asked her for directions and she points to the star of Bethlehem. In others, they are already following the star and invite her to come along. La Befana refuses because she has too much sweeping to do, but after they leave she changes her mind. She tries to follow them without luck, and to this day, she wanders the skies on her broom looking for baby Jesus. At each home she flies down chimneys and leaves gifts for good children or coal for bad children.

Prior to Santa Claus, the only gift-giver at this time of year in Southern Italy was La Befana. She too, has older roots than her encounter with the Three Magi. In pre-Christian Italy, there was a tradition burning an effigy of an old lady to bring in the new year. Pieces of that fire, as well as the sacred ceppo, or Yule log, were represented in her gifts of fertility now known as "lumps of" coal. Lift up any tradition and there is another one that is Earth honouring, and perhaps a little more female honouring hiding underneath it.

Midwinter was considered a time when witches and ancestral spirits could most easily be felt. It was at this time that stories were told and divinations were cast. It was time for magic and divination. Who better to represent this time than a benevolent witch who somehow found her way into Christian myth. The broom is one of the most powerful symbols of Old European women’s spirituality. It is the symbol of the spirit flight of the shaman, or witch, or seer. It is the world tree. It is the spine, the Axis Mundi, the sacred tool. It is a women's spiritual heritage hidden in plain sight.

The Eighth Day of Yuletide

SING TO THE TREES

I grew up in a town that was small enough to still have Christmas carolling. I used to love going from house to house singing tunes. We gathered before a house and sang until the owners opened the door. Sometimes they ignored us, but sometimes they would join in. If I had been doing this a few centuries back, perhaps the owners would have offered treats, money or gifts. Or, perhaps we wouldn’t have been singing to homeowners at all; we would have been singing to the trees.

Christmas carolling, in the old sense of going from door to door and singing, has roots in Wassailing. As in: “Here we go a-wassailing among the leaves so green…” Wassail is a drink and a folk tradition celebrated during the twelve nights of Christmas, or in early January. The word comes from Anglo Saxon “vesheil” meaning “be well” or “be whole”. As a drink, it is typically made from a spiced wine/ale or cider and sometimes an egg. In medieval England, where abundant apple orchards grew, and livelihoods depended on a bountiful harvest, folk would go down to the orchards with a large bowl of hot, spiced wassail. Often they dressed colourfully, wore feathers in their hats and even performed masked plays. Songs were sung to the trees while wassail was sprinkled over the branches. The bowl of wassail was also shared among revellers, and at the end, the villagers went to the largest tree in the orchard and poured the remaining wassail into its roots. Toast soaked in cider or beer was placed in the forks of the tree. Ever wonder where the term “toast” while drinking came from? Now you know. All this was done with the intention to wake the spirit of the trees and ward off an evil spirit that may harm the harvest.

Wassailing has recently made a comeback in parts of England and the US! You can go sing to the trees one of these winter nights. It doesn’t have to be an apple tree. Any fruit tree will do. Just remember to bring a piping thermos of spiced wassail and offer some to the spirit of the tree. Be well!

Photo cred: 1) public domain 2) @deans_court 3) @cornwalllive 4) @westerncider

The Ninth Day of Christmas

MUMMING

Do you go on costumed capers over the holidays? Because you should. Don’t leave your masks and revelry to Halloween, there is still time to join in with Celtic winter tradition of Mumming. Although, you may need to invite at least one friend to dress as a ghostly horse. Rules are rules.

Similar to wassailing, mumming has had a resurgence in Ireland and Britain. Mummers would typically dress unrecognisably, swap clothes, wear masks and go about the village singing, dancing and performing plays at each house. These revelries often happened within the twelve days of Christmas. Traditionally it was done in silence or “mum”, although singing and rhyme became a major part of the plays as the tradition continued. The word mum means silence. This is where we get the phrase “mum’s the word”. Mumming and wassailing often overlap, but there is a third tradition worth mentioning here as well: The Grey Mare. In Wales the Grey Mare is called Y Fari Lwyd or Mari Lwyd. As it goes, the skull of a horse is placed on a pole with a white hood hanging behind her. Often she is decorated with ribbons and adornments, but her skull is usually left bare. In this Welsh tradition, folk carry the hobby horse to pubs and homes where they perform a rhyme game with the owners in exchange for entry. The mummers offer a verse of playful insults and the folks inside the house have to reply with a rhyming insult. This goes on until one of the sides falters on the rhyme. If the mummers falter, they leave, but if it’s the home owners, the mummers are invited in for drinks, food and mischief.

Why a horse? There is a Christian story about a lost horse and Mother Mary, but the practice is markedly pre-Christian. In Celtic culture the horse was considered sacred as was white animals. White or silver (grey) animals were emissaries of the Celtic Otherworld: the white hind, raven, hounds of Annwn, and Rhiannon’s horse, to name a few. It was a way to carry the spirits with you. Yuletide is a time when the veil between this world and the other is thin, and brings both tricker energy and blessings.

Photo: wikimedia commons

The Tenth Day of Yuletide

ELVES

The mid-winter festivals aren’t just for honouring ancestors and celebrating the light. They are also a time for the fey folk. In pre-Christian Europe, the feast days occurred during key points in the seasonal calendar. The equinoxes and solstices were always considered powerful days of magic. It is on such days that reality is less distinct: ordinary and non-ordinary reality, or what the Celts call “the veil between the worlds” is mutable. The veil becomes thin and fairy folk are often seen.

In Scandinavian cultures, one of these fairy creatures is the tomten. The tomten is a short, gnomelike old man, often dressed in red with a white beard and a pointed cap. You’ve probably seen felted versions of tomten on Christmas trees. The tomten are general benevolent Swedish gnomes, who share relations with the Danish Nissemen and Finnish Tonttu. It is the gnomes who bring gifts at Yuletide. Tomte means “homestead man”. These fey folk are the spirit of the home and offer both protection and company during the long months of winter. They are usually friendly, guarding the home or farm against evil, but they are also known to respond to bad behavior with their own mischief. Does it sound like any red-dressed elf you know? These elven creatures had a great deal to lend to our modern day commercialised version of Santa Claus. This is also where the story of Santa’s elf helpers comes from.

The myths and legends behind these gnome helpers are often associated with the very practical job of running a farm and keeping things clean and orderly. One of the surest ways to upset a tomten and bring down his mischief is to be messy, untidy or rude. On Christmas Eve, the tomten is left butter for his porridge, just like the bees are left a candied cake.

The Germanic, Slavic, Norse and Celtic myths are full of otherworldly creatures who visit during “thin” times like winter solstice. It is a time for great blessing and honouring of the land and its otherworldly inhabitants, so that life may return to thrive in the green of summer once more

Art: Nasjonalbiblioteket Norway 1885

The Eleventh Day of Christmas

SATURNALIA

The Christmas season is full of many traditions that have their roots in the rivulets and estuaries of folklore. From flying reindeer to fruit cakes, there is a rich tapestry of customs woven between the old gods and the new. Christmas is simply the newest name for a time period that required merriment. Why? Because we all need to lift our spirits in the heart of winter. Do you think we’re the first generation to experience Seasonal Affective Disorder? Definitely not. When your life literally depends on the sun coming back to warm the land and make crops grow, seasons become awfully important. This time of year was about prophecy, divination, offerings, celebration, song, storytelling, nourishment and giving. And though we may not like to remember it, in our tidy, holy days, this time of year has also always been about getting it on. If you need any clues just look at the trailing star leading from mistletoe to the New Year’s Eve kiss. From whence does such amorous behaviour stem? Well, from every culture dealing with long nights, spicy brews and close quarters. But also, from the Greek and Roman winter celebrations such as Saturnalia and the winter feasts of Poseidon and Dionysus. These were feasts that carried on for days if not the whole damn month and required an “anything goes attitude”. Let’s all remember, that before the shitty Patriarchal oppression of women by the Church, folk had a much more realistic attitude toward sex. As in, it happened, often. Both men AND women enjoyed it. Women created life from it. It was pleasurable for women (and men). And sometimes, in the dark of winter, it could really just lift the spirits and bring about a little more of that sacred fertility every culture since forever has been celebrating.

Saturnalia, the most well known of these festivals, was a time for merriment, drunkenness, and the breaking of social rules. Servants were served by masters. Clothing was swapped, nakedness abounded, and much banter was to be had. There were even honey cakes shaped like male and female sexual organs paraded around and, erm *coughs*…consumed. 

It was your everyday bacchanalia. The gods of love and wine ruled. This was one of the first origins of Christmas. That’s right. Folks celebrated the return of the light (read: the return of fertility and life) by exchanging gifts, songs, kisses and oh so much more. Speaking of Bacchus, did you know that Dionysus was also a sun god reborn and that his festival was on the winter solstice? Brumalia, was the Greek winter holiday associated with Dionysus and wine. It wasn’t only his, in early days this winter festival of rebirth and the “Waxing of the light” was also associated with the parthenogenetic (virgin birth) Goddess Demeter and her underworld daughter Persephone. Life meets death meets life again. Shall we go back even further? There we find the ancient death and resurrection of the Sumerian goddess of the light, Inanna. What sits between the powerful force of death and the ever-renewing spring of life? Sex, of course. And so when all gets upended on its head and the gifts have been given…when the songs have been sung and the wine all drunk, people kiss beneath the mistletoe and at the strike of twelve because: life. Life. Life. Life. In the face of dark winter’s death, we insist on life.

The Twelfth Day of Christmas

Twelfth Night

What better way to end the 12 days than with a celebration of Twelfth Night. What exactly is Twelfth Night? It’s the final night, the last hurray, the “Go big or go home”. It’s origins lie somewhere in antiquity, between the Nordic Juul season and the Roman Saturnalia. Or perhaps even older than that. The winter festivals were never about one day. The season of winter merriment was just that, a season, which eventually had to come to a close so that the hard work of winter could carry on. What better way to end that season than with a party? The Twelfth Night comes from the Christian feast of the eve of the Epiphany, typically celebrated Jan 5th. The Epiphany is also known as the Feast of the three Magic Kings, marking the arrival of the 3 Wise Men to Jerusalem. However, prior to the Catholic Church deciding on the 6th for the Epiphany, there was an older tradition of celebrating the end of Yule which began at Winter Solstice. In fact, the church actually changed the day of the Epiphany to try to discourage the generally pagan revelry that occurred on the original 12th night: New Years Eve. Good try dudes. It failed. ⠀

So let's carry on with the merriment: 🍰 In Old England there was a custom of the King’s Cake. On this night, a cake was made. A bean was baked into one half, and a pea into the other. As guests arrived, men were given slices of cake from the bean side and women from the pea side. Whomever received the piece with the bean or pea was crowned the King and Queen of Revels. ⠀

 In Celtic countries like Wales, Scotland and Ireland, there is a tradition of first footing. It is considered good luck to have the first person who enters your home after the stroke of midnight be a dark haired man (a stranger is best!) bearing gifts of a coal, shortbread, or whisky! This likely stems from the fear of blonde Viking invaders in Northern Scotland. Besides who doesn’t want a tall, dark and handsome stranger bearing gifts at your door at midnight. Shall I send my address?⠀

Furthermore, in Scotland, where Christmas was banned by the church for a period of time (for being too pagan), the people celebrate Hogmanay. Folk used to actually work through Christmas and put all their festive attention on Hogmanay. This grand New Year’s Eve festival of fire balls, torches, fireworks, and lights includes traditions such as first-footing, kissing (of course), and ringing of bells to clear the old and ring in the new. It was also a time of gift giving and house cleaning. If you’re in Edinburgh you might even start New Year’s Day with an icy dip in the sea!

In Ireland, single people often placed a sprig of mistletoe, holly or ivy under their pillow in hope to dream of their future mate.

Whatever it is you do this night, give a toast to the people who came before you. Everything you do comes from somewhere and was touched by many cultures intermingling and borrowing from one another. Ring in the year with one hand reaching back, and one hand reaching forward, as we carry on with the grave responsibility and wild revelry of being human.

  Photo credit: @edhogmanay showing the Edinburgh torch procession at Hogmanay.

Saint Valentine of the Bees

It’s Valentine’s Day.  Oh, excuse me, the nymphs of the woods and springs want me to amend that: it’s another Spring Fertility Festival! Yay!  What, you say? Spring Fertility? Yes. The bees, myself, and the historical record all agree that that long before the Christianization of this day, the festivities of love and fertility were celebrated on the streets of Rome as the 3 day festival of Lupercalia.  

Deemed far too pagan to last under such a wolfish name, the festival has tiptoed through the ages as a celebration of love, albeit the Saint Valentine version IS a bit more chaste.  Those early Greek and Roman polytheists really knew how to get down.  Just look at how they celebrated the winter holidays of Saturnalia (shout out to pre-Roman, pre-Hellenistic Dionysus).   The festival began with a goat sacrifice in the cave where twins Romulus and Remus were suckled by a she-wolf before founding Rome.  Goat sacrifices aside, Lupercalia culminated in all the eligible young women putting their names in an Urn.  The eligible bachelors drew from the Urn and the new couple would be paired for a year.  Like online dating, but more risky, and more fun. There was also a whole thing with slapping women with the sacrificed goat hide to ensure fertility, but we modern witches tend to only do that every 113th “Valentine’s” day, so nobody freak out.

Photo by Koa Kalish, 2013

Despite the Christian habit for appropriation followed by denunciation, Saint Valentine wasn’t all so bad himself.  In fact, he was martyred as a Christian Saint during a time when Christians were heavily persecuted by the Romans.  People have had a hard time sharing opposing beliefs forever.

There are a few (mostly fabricated) legends about Saint Valentine, but one of my favorites is that he married young lovers in secret during a time when Emperor Claudius II had banned all young men from marriage because he needed them for war.  Some accounts will tell you he was never associated with romance, and his appointment to the auspices of chivalric love came as an attempt to suppress some of the more erotic, fertility customs of the ancient world.  Now, instead of wild sexual expression, we have boxes of chocolate and roses.  The roses I understand.  Same with the chocolate.  It all goes back to fertility, and when we look at fertility we find the bees.  February is when the quickening begins, flowers open their petals and bees begin to buzz, making the sweet ambrosia that has united lovers across time and culture.  

Cupid’s arrow after all was tipped with either honey or venom.  You choose.

Photo by Betty Lou Chaika from “St.Gobnait, Lady of the Bees”

Did you know that Saint Valentine was also the patron saint of beekeepers?  He takes his seat among the pantheon of gods, goddesses, saints and spirits who protect bees and beekeepers.  Saint Modmonoc of Wales, Aphrodite, Saint Ambrose of Milan, Saint Gobnait or Ireland, and Bride to name a few.  I have particular affinity for the Irish Saint Gobnait, who’s feast day is February 11. Patroness of bees, she was known as a skilled healer who used honey in her remedies and has an awful lot of overlap with her Celtic predecessor, the mother goddess of healing and honeyed-words: Bride or Brigit. 

In the British Isle and Ireland, folk practice the tradition of wassailing well into February.  Wassailing is the ceremonial practice of toasting the apple trees, livestock and bees for good health.  In old Europe this was the time folk sought the miracle that is the return of spring to the land.  The bees lead the parade of flowers, milk and fruit, emerging with the promise of honey on the lips.

So, to those of you longing for someone to bring you flowers, or wishing you had a date tonight, try this on for size: it’s always about the bees.  They bring life.  Want to celebrate?  Buy yourself some roses.  Eat some chocolate.  Pour yourself a cup full of mead, dress in your finery, and march out to the trees and the bees, toasting to sweetness of it all.

12th Day of Yuletide:

What better way to end the 12 days than with a celebration of Twelfth Night. What exactly is Twelfth Night? It’s the final night, the last hurray, the “Go big or go home”. It’s origins lie somewhere in antiquity, between the Nordic Juul season and the Roman Saturnalia. Or perhaps even older than that. The winter festivals were never about one day. The season of winter merriment was just that, a season, which eventually had to come to a close so that the hard work of winter could carry on. What better way to end that season than with a party? The Twelfth Night comes from the Christian feast of the eve of the Epiphany, typically celebrated Jan 5th. The Epiphany is also known as the Feast of the three Magic Kings, marking the arrival of the 3 Wise Men to Jerusalem. However, prior to the Catholic Church deciding on the 6th for the Epiphany, there was an older tradition of celebrating the end of Yule which began at Winter Solstice. In fact, the church actually changed the day of the Epiphany to try to discourage the generally pagan revelry that occurred on the original 12th night: New Years Eve. Good try dudes. It failed. ⠀

So let's carry on with the merriment: 🍰 In Old England there was a custom of the King’s Cake. On this night, a cake was made. A bean was baked into one half, and a pea into the other. As guests arrived, men were given slices of cake from the bean side and women from the pea side. Whomever received the piece with the bean or pea was crowned the King and Queen of Revels. ⠀

 In Celtic countries like Wales, Scotland and Ireland, there is a tradition of first footing. It is considered good luck to have the first person who enters your home after the stroke of midnight be a dark haired man (a stranger is best!) bearing gifts of a coal, shortbread, or whisky! This likely stems from the fear of blonde Viking invaders in Northern Scotland. Besides who doesn’t want a tall, dark and handsome stranger bearing gifts at your door at midnight. Shall I send my address?⠀

Furthermore, in Scotland, where Christmas was banned by the church for a period of time (for being too pagan), the people celebrate Hogmanay. Folk used to actually work through Christmas and put all their festive attention on Hogmanay. This grand New Year’s Eve festival of fire balls, torches, fireworks, and lights includes traditions such as first-footing, kissing (of course), and ringing of bells to clear the old and ring in the new. It was also a time of gift giving and house cleaning. If you’re in Edinburgh you might even start New Year’s Day with an icy dip in the sea!

In Ireland, single people often placed a sprig of mistletoe, holly or ivy under their pillow in hope to dream of their future mate.

Whatever it is you do this night, give a toast to the people who came before you. Everything you do comes from somewhere and was touched by many cultures intermingling and borrowing from one another. Ring in the year with one hand reaching back, and one hand reaching forward, as we carry on with the grave responsibility and wild revelry of being human.

  Photo credit: @edhogmanay showing the Edinburgh torch procession at Hogmanay.

11th Day of Yuletide: Saturnalia

The Christmas season is full of many traditions that have their roots in the rivulets and estuaries of folklore. From flying reindeer to fruit cakes, there is a rich tapestry of customs woven between the old gods and the new. Christmas is simply the newest name for a time period that required merriment. Why? Because we all need to lift our spirits in the heart of winter. Do you think we’re the first generation to experience Seasonal Affective Disorder? Definitely not. When your life literally depends on the sun coming back to warm the land and make crops grow, seasons become awfully important. This time of year was about prophecy, divination, offerings, celebration, song, storytelling, nourishment and giving. And though we may not like to remember it, in our tidy, holy days, this time of year has also always been about getting it on. If you need any clues just look at the trailing star leading from mistletoe to the New Year’s Eve kiss. From whence does such amorous behaviour stem? Well, from every culture dealing with long nights, spicy brews and close quarters. But also, from the Greek and Roman winter celebrations such as Saturnalia and the winter feasts of Poseidon and Dionysus. These were feasts that carried on for days if not the whole damn month and required an “anything goes attitude”. Let’s all remember, that before the shitty Patriarchal oppression of women by the Church, folk had a much more realistic attitude toward sex. As in, it happened, often. Both men AND women enjoyed it. Women created life from it. It was pleasurable for women (and men). And sometimes, in the dark of winter, it could really just lift the spirits and bring about a little more of that sacred fertility every culture since forever has been celebrating.

Saturnalia, the most well known of these festivals, was a time for merriment, drunkenness, and the breaking of social rules. Servants were served by masters. Clothing was swapped, nakedness abounded, and much banter was to be had. There were even honey cakes shaped like male and female sexual organs paraded around and, erm *coughs*…consumed. 

It was your everyday bacchanalia. The gods of love and wine ruled. This was one of the first origins of Christmas. That’s right. Folks celebrated the return of the light (read: the return of fertility and life) by exchanging gifts, songs, kisses and oh so much more. Speaking of Bacchus, did you know that Dionysus was also a sun god reborn and that his festival was on the winter solstice? Brumalia, was the Greek winter holiday associated with Dionysus and wine. It wasn’t only his, in early days this winter festival of rebirth and the “Waxing of the light” was also associated with the parthenogenetic (virgin birth) Goddess Demeter and her underworld daughter Persephone. Life meets death meets life again. Shall we go back even further? There we find the ancient death and resurrection of the Sumerian goddess of the light, Inanna. What sits between the powerful force of death and the ever-renewing spring of life? Sex, of course. And so when all gets upended on its head and the gifts have been given…when the songs have been sung and the wine all drunk, people kiss beneath the mistletoe and at the strike of twelve because: life. Life. Life. Life. In the face of dark winter’s death, we insist on life.

10th Day of Yuletide: Elves

The mid-winter festivals aren’t just for honouring ancestors and celebrating the light. They are also a time for the fey folk. In pre-Christian Europe, the feast days occurred during key points in the seasonal calendar. The equinoxes and solstices were always considered powerful days of magic. It is on such days that reality is less distinct: ordinary and non-ordinary reality, or what the Celts call “the veil between the worlds” is mutable. The veil becomes thin and fairy folk are often seen.

In Scandinavian cultures, one of these fairy creatures is the tomten. The tomten is a short, gnomelike old man, often dressed in red with a white beard and a pointed cap. You’ve probably seen felted versions of tomten on Christmas trees. The tomten are general benevolent Swedish gnomes, who share relations with the Danish Nissemen and Finnish Tonttu. It is the gnomes who bring gifts at Yuletide. Tomte means “homestead man”. These fey folk are the spirit of the home and offer both protection and company during the long months of winter. They are usually friendly, guarding the home or farm against evil, but they are also known to respond to bad behavior with their own mischief. Does it sound like any red-dressed elf you know? These elven creatures had a great deal to lend to our modern day commercialised version of Santa Claus. This is also where the story of Santa’s elf helpers comes from.

The myths and legends behind these gnome helpers are often associated with the very practical job of running a farm and keeping things clean and orderly. One of the surest ways to upset a tomten and bring down his mischief is to be messy, untidy or rude. On Christmas Eve, the tomten is left butter for his porridge, just like the bees are left a candied cake.

The Germanic, Slavic, Norse and Celtic myths are full of otherworldly creatures who visit during “thin” times like winter solstice. It is a time for great blessing and honouring of the land and its otherworldly inhabitants, so that life may return to thrive in the green of summer once more

Art: Nasjonabiblioteket Norway 1885

9th Day of Yuletide: Mumming

Do you go on costumed capers over the holidays? Because you should. Don’t leave your masks and revelry to Halloween, there is still time to join in with Celtic winter tradition of Mumming. Although, you may need to invite at least one friend to dress as a ghostly horse. Rules are rules.

Similar to wassailing, mumming has had a resurgence in Ireland and Britain. Mummers would typically dress unrecognisably, swap clothes, wear masks and go about the village singing, dancing and performing plays at each house. These revelries often happened within the twelve days of Christmas. Traditionally it was done in silence or “mum”, although singing and rhyme became a major part of the plays as the tradition continued. The word mum means silence. This is where we get the phrase “mum’s the word”. Mumming and wassailing often overlap, but there is a third tradition worth mentioning here as well: The Grey Mare. In Wales the Grey Mare is called Y Fari Lwyd or Mari Lwyd. As it goes, the skull of a horse is placed on a pole with a white hood hanging behind her. Often she is decorated with ribbons and adornments, but her skull is usually left bare. In this Welsh tradition, folk carry the hobby horse to pubs and homes where they perform a rhyme game with the owners in exchange for entry. The mummers offer a verse of playful insults and the folks inside the house have to reply with a rhyming insult. This goes on until one of the sides falters on the rhyme. If the mummers falter, they leave, but if it’s the home owners, the mummers are invited in for drinks, food and mischief.

Why a horse? There is a Christian story about a lost horse and Mother Mary, but the practice is markedly pre-Christian. In Celtic culture the horse was considered sacred as was white animals. White or silver (grey) animals were emissaries of the Celtic Otherworld: the white hind, raven, hounds of Annwn, and Rhiannon’s horse, to name a few. It was a way to carry the spirits with you. Yuletide is a time when the veil between this world and the other is thin, and brings both tricker energy and blessings.

Photo: wikimedia commons

8th Day of Yuletide: Sing to the Trees

I grew up in a town that was small enough to still have Christmas carolling. I used to love going from house to house singing tunes. We gathered before a house and sang until the owners opened the door. Sometimes they ignored us, but sometimes they would join in. If I had been doing this a few centuries back, perhaps the owners would have offered treats, money or gifts. Or, perhaps we wouldn’t have been singing to homeowners at all; we would have been singing to the trees.

Christmas carolling, in the old sense of going from door to door and singing, has roots in Wassailing. As in: “Here we go a-wassailing among the leaves so green…” Wassail is a drink and a folk tradition celebrated during the twelve nights of Christmas, or in early January. The word comes from Anglo Saxon “vesheil” meaning “be well” or “be whole”. As a drink, it is typically made from a spiced wine/ale or cider and sometimes an egg. In medieval England, where abundant apple orchards grew, and livelihoods depended on a bountiful harvest, folk would go down to the orchards with a large bowl of hot, spiced wassail. Often they dressed colourfully, wore feathers in their hats and even performed masked plays. Songs were sung to the trees while wassail was sprinkled over the branches. The bowl of wassail was also shared among revellers, and at the end, the villagers went to the largest tree in the orchard and poured the remaining wassail into its roots. Toast soaked in cider or beer was placed in the forks of the tree. Ever wonder where the term “toast” while drinking came from? Now you know. All this was done with the intention to wake the spirit of the trees and ward off an evil spirit that may harm the harvest.

Wassailing has recently made a comeback in parts of England and the US! You can go sing to the trees one of these winter nights. It doesn’t have to be an apple tree. Any fruit tree will do. Just remember to bring a piping thermos of spiced wassail and offer some to the spirit of the tree. Be well!

Photo cred: 1) public domain 2) @deans_court 3) @cornwalllive 4) @westerncider

The 7th day of Yuletide: The Christmas Witch

Ever heard of La Befana? She comes from an Italian legend connected to the birth of Jesus. La Befana's name is derived from the Greek word for Epiphany. The Epiphany is the day baby Jesus was revealed as the Son of God. The legend says the Three Magi stopped at La Befana’s home on their way to find the baby Jesus. She is described as an ugly, poor, old woman with a broom (recall the Cailleach of the Celts). The witch receives the three Magi. In some legends they asked her for directions and she points to the star of Bethlehem. In others, they are already following the star and invite her to come along. La Befana refuses because she has too much sweeping to do, but after they leave she changes her mind. She tries to follow them without luck, and to this day, she wanders the skies on her broom looking for baby Jesus. At each home she flies down chimneys and leaves gifts for good children or coal for bad children.

Prior to Santa Claus, the only gift-giver at this time of year in Southern Italy was La Befana. She too, has older roots than her encounter with the Three Magi. In pre-Christian Italy, there was a tradition burning an effigy of an old lady to bring in the new year. Pieces of that fire, as well as the sacred ceppo, or Yule log, were represented in her gifts of fertility now known as "lumps of" coal. Lift up any tradition and there is another one that is Earth honouring, and perhaps a little more female honouring hiding underneath it.

Midwinter was considered a time when witches and ancestral spirits could most easily be felt. It was at this time that stories were told and divinations were cast. It was time for magic and divination. Who better to represent this time than a benevolent witch who somehow found her way into Christian myth. The broom is one of the most powerful symbols of Old European women’s spirituality. It is the symbol of the spirit flight of the shaman, or witch, or seer. It is the world tree. It is the spine, the Axis Mundi, the sacred tool. It is a women's spiritual heritage hidden in plain sight.

6th Day of Yuletide: The Christmas Tree

that’s me (left) and my oldest friend at the ripe old age of 1.

If you’re following along with these posts, you have probably gathered that most of the Christmas traditions I’m sharing have older roots in Northern and Eastern Europe. There are some Roman influences, but overall, much of our winter celebrations come from the cold, snowy lands where sunlight is in short supply this time of year. The beloved Christmas Tree is no different.

As with most of these traditions, there is no hard and fast origin date or place for the Christmas tree. Decking the halls with boughs of holly and evergreen has been a practice among pre-Christian Europeans for centuries. Often branches of evergreens, symbolising the continuation and ever-renewing force of life on earth, would be placed over windows and doors, or decorating major festivals such as Roman Saturnalia. This Roman festival of wild revelry, celebrated during what is now modern day Christmas, was a festival of joy and merrymaking in honour of the God Saturn.

Most decorated evergreens were set up in village squares or paraded from house to house. It wasn’t until the Victorian era that the indoor Christmas tree decorated with candles became popularised. Queen Victoria’s husband, Prince Albert, was German and introduced many of our most popular Christmas traditions to the royal household and thus to England and the United States. In parts of Poland and other Eastern European countries, the top of a fir tree or a large branch was hung suspended from the ceiling, usually over the table. These were decorated with fruits and nuts. In Germany in the 16th century, there are records of trees also being decorated with dates, apples and other foods, as well as cut paper flowers.

The tradition of tinsel on the tree also comes from Eastern and Northern Europe, where strips of silver were hung from the tree. There is even a legend of a Christmas spider who weaves strands of silver and gold to decorate the tree as the family sleeps. In some places it is considered good luck to find a spider and her web in the Christmas tree.

4th Day of Yuletide Deer Mother

 4th Night of Yuletide: Deer Mother

Once upon a time, a great forest blanketed the northern lands. It stretched from Scandinavia to the British Isles, and from Siberia over the land bridge into North America. Moving through that forest were those who knew the silver tracks of the old ways: the deer and their people.

Today, this great forest has diminished, and the way of life for its indigenous guardians is threatened. We call this forest of the north the Taiga or the Boreal forest and out of it’s depths comes one of our most beloved winter fairy tales.

It was always the reindeer that truly captured my childhood imagination: a sleigh of flying deer, spinning their way through the stars to land on my rooftop where I left carrots and cookies? How marvellous! But Santa’s reindeer have a much older origin and so does the elf himself.

The story of the reindeer came from the snow covered lands of Northern Europe where the people honoured Deer Mother. The reindeer is the only deer where the female is larger than the stag. Both male and female reindeer have antlers, but only the female retains her antlers in winter. Much like elephants, the oldest matriarch leads the herd. For the Sami people in northern Scandinavia, life depends on following the herds. There is an ancient marriage between the deer and the people. Deer bring life. On winter solstice, Deer Mother takes to the skies, carrying the light of the sun in her antlers, bringing rebirth to the land.

The cult of the deer stretches back 14,000 years and reaches across Asia, North America and most of Europe. There were a number of goddesses associated with the deer. One of these is Saule the sun goddess from Latvia and Lithuania. Saule rides across the sky at midwinter in a sleigh lead by reindeer. She weeps her tears (sacred waters) and each tear is forged into amber which she throws down to the people along with apples (often associated with fertility and eternal life). Deer mother is so enduring that she found her way into our modern myths and stories, even if obscured behind the Patriarchal wash over her most holy act.

3rd Day of Yuletide: Mistletoe

“The Druids held nothing more sacred than the mistletoe and the tree that bears it, always supposing that tree to be the oak….They call the mistletoe by a name meaning, in their language, the all-healing.” - Pliny

It has not been so very long that we have lived as if our lives did not depend on the crops, the seasons and the forces that move determine them. When dark winter reigned, people looked to that which brings life. They looked to the sun deities of rebirth. They looked to the fertile promise of life held within the female form, honouring traditions like mother’s night. They also looked to that which lasts even in the heart of winter. This is where the tradition of bringing the ever-green into the home to deck the halls and the mantle. The holly, ivy, pine, fir and of course, mistletoe. It only makes sense that this sacred all-healing herb of fertility found its way into our modern traditions, without losing its essence of the promise of life. For what does a kiss under the mistletoe represent at its heart? The promise of love, life, and renewal. As a side note, mistletoe wasn’t the only green associated with kissing. In parts of England, there was also a “kissing bush” made from evergreen and holly, and filled with red apples or red paper “roses”.

While popularised as a kissing sprig for the hopeful, it has other folk customs associated with it. In France it is given as a gift on New Year symbolising peace and luck. In Sweden, similar to the Yule log ash, the mistletoe was placed on doors and mantles to protect from lightning. In England it was given to athletes because it held all the distilled “soul” or power of the Oak tree it grew up.

Whether you are decking the halls with sprigs of mistletoe for fertility, for luck, for peace or for strength, remember it is an utterly pagan tradition that remained strong, despite the Church trying to ban it. I would like to think that’s because nobody wants to get rid of a tradition that involves kissing in the darkest time of the year. This was the time of year that the wild revelry of Roman Saturnalia took place after all.

2nd Day of Yuletide : Yule/Winter Solstice/Midwinte

Today marks the shortest day of the year, followed by the longest night. Back when calendars followed the season and cycles of the stars, the solstices were times of lasting festivals and holy observances. In some places like the Celtic Isles, Winter’s Night was a time when the flame or light of the previous year was burned through the night, to usher in the dawning of the light on the following morning. In this way, the flame of the old year ignites the new year.

In continuation with my 12 days of Yuletide exploration, I give you the Yule Log. All across old Europe, it was customary to fell a tree, usually Oak, Spruce or Pine, and drag it through the village to eventually be placed upon the hearth and burned through Solstice Night and sometimes beyond. The ash from the log was often saved and used in various cultures to bless the crops, aid in fertility, protect against storms, and heal the sick.

I’m calling it the Yule log because that is how it was popularised by Victorian Era England, but it has many names and many customs tied to it. Yule is derived from Juul, a Scandinavian midwinter feast when a Juul Log was burned in honour of the Lightning God, Thor. In France, the Tréfoir de Nöel was burned for all 12 nights of Christmas, and the ashes were saved to protect against lightning strikes. In Italy, the log was laid upon Juniper boughs, which coins were placed upon it. In England, a branch from the old log of the year before was saved to light the new.

One of my favourite associations is the connection between the Yule log and the snake, described by 

archaeologist Marija Gimbutas She discusses how the log is a representation of the snake, or the “life force” of the earth and symbolises renewal. In the Scottish Highlands, the Yule log is the Cailléach, the Old Hag/Woman who was burned to make way for the renewal of life. As such, the ash, once again, had the healing powers of fertility.

You may not have a hearth, but you can follow the footsteps of folk traditions by lighting a candle at dusk or greeting the sun at dawn.

Art by Harriet M. Bennett

Mother’s Night and the Twelve Days of Yuletide

For the next twelve days I am going to be doing a series on some of the Old European traditions associated midwinter. We begin with the twelve days themselves.

We all know the popular song, but what are the twelve days of Christmas? If you go looking, you’ll likely be told the 12 days of Christmas begin on Christmas Day and end on January 6th. From the birth of Christ to the coming of the three wise men. Twelve days plucked from the people who celebrated the Earth and handed in a neat little package of Christian theology, avoiding old traditions like Mother’s Night.

So what are the original twelve days of Christmas? To understand this, we must first recall that prior to Christianity there were centuries of celebration at midwinter. In fact, in the Roman Empire, 250 years after the birth of Christ, the people celebrated the 25th of December as the rebirth of the Sol Invictus, the “Unconquerable Sun”. In early Christianity, there were even some who claimed the Nativity was on summer solstice. It’s important to remember that what’s in the Bible we know today was decided upon. There is actually no biblical evidence of Christ being born at midwinter, but since midwinter is a time when people celebrate the return of the the light (literally, the sun), it only made sense to meld the birth of the Christian saviour with pre-existing rituals. Christianity couldn’t quite do away with long-standing folk traditions, so it absorbed them, making slight alterations.

One of those alterations was to change the dates of the twelve days of Yuletide, and give each day to a Saint. Nice and tidy. The original twelve days actually begin on Mother’s night, the eve of winter solstice. Today. December 20th.

Mother’s Night comes from Scandinavian and Anglo-Saxon traditions. In the Norse tradition, this night celebrated the Dísir or ancestral mothers. The Dísir were the Old Ones: ancestral grandmothers who blessed, protected and provided prophetic counsel to the clan. This is a night for holding vigil through the dark.