Roundhouses in Britain and America

oast housesI’ve loved the idea of roundhouses since my teens when I went to a party hosted in an oast house in Sussex. As soon as I entered, I just thought there was something inherently right about living in a circular structure. When everyone sat around the walls in a circle, it seemed to encourage conversation and sharing, whether of conversation or food and drink. Oast houses, incidentally, were traditionally used for drying hops in South East England. Quite a few still exist and they are, I think, beautiful buildings, as you can see from the picture of these Sussex examples.

A few years later I became interested in the ancestral spiritual traditions of Britain and was delighted to find that our ancestors in the Bronze Age, the Iron Age, and well into the Roman era had lived in roundhouses, a period of about 4,000 years.

RHbluebells 04 11It wasn’t until 30 years later that a friend offered me the opportunity to build a roundhouse (above) in a clearing in a wood in Shropshire that she inherited from her parents. Working only in some of my sons’ school holidays, it took three years and a lot of help to create our roundhouse. Most of those working on it were Druids, though a few Buddhists and folk of other traditions helped out too. All put great spirit energy into the place and the building. We had to learn a lot of new skills. My design used elements from the archaeology of half a dozen different sites, combining them into something that seemed like it would work and create a good, structurally sound, aesthetically pleasing and useable building. We use it mainly for ceremonies, music and storytelling. The acoustics are excellent.

roundhouse interior antlersThere’s something about learning all these old craft skills, from growing and harvesting the straw and cutting the right wood, through wattling the walls to thatching the roof with the straw we’d grown, that really connects you with the spirits of our ancestors. You get a clear sense of what it was like to walk in their shoes. The fact that the building project was accompanied all the way through by rituals designed to weave the building into the place and integrate it with the spirits of nature helped to build that sense of connection. Our roundhouse has a 22 foot internal diameter, a wheat-straw thatched roof partly supported by an internal circle of ash posts, lime-washed wattle and daub walls and a beaten earth floor (right). For more photos, see the albums on my facebook page, especially the one covering the building process.

Five years on from the completion of that first roundhouse, I’m working again with John and Ken. John’s the guy who taught us to thatch and Ken is another core member of the team from the Shropshire build. We’re working on a pair of conjoined roundhouses for the Museum of Welsh Life at St Fagans in South Wales (below). These are based on archaeology from a site on Anglesey called Bryn Eryr, ‘Hill of Eagles.’ As in Shropshire, we’re being aided by many helpers, from archaeological students to men on probation. Also helping out are Ian, the Museum’s resident Iron Age reenactor, and Dafydd, whose website, britishroundhouses.com, lists over a hundred reconstructed roundhouses in England, Wales and Scotland with photos of each one.IMGA0012 (Copy)The first of the St Fagans roundhouses is being thatched with a base coat of gorse and heather onto which straw is stitched. We’re then stuffing straw into this base coat. This roundhouse is 32 feet in diameter. The second, larger roundhouse (40 foot diameter) will have a short row of gorse around the base of the roof as a rodent deterrent and will then be thatched using a long-straw thatching technique. Neither has an internal post circle, relying instead on very thick clay and earth walls.

Of course, most of what happens above ground in modern roundhouse reconstructions is based on educated guesswork. Almost everything that survives in the archaeological record is at or below ground level. Peter Reynolds set the style for roundhouse reconstructions with his pioneering work at the Butser Iron Age farm in Hampshire in the early 1970s (below). This includes using straw thatch for the roofs. The logic of this is that cereal crops were being grown and the by-product of straw would therefore have been readily available. In other parts of the country, water reeds or grasses such as marram grass may have been used. It’s also possible that turf, tree bark or wooden shingles were used.Butser_Farmx800This morning a facebook friend suggested I might go to the USA and show folks over there how to build Iron Age roundhouses. This got me wondering if there weren’t already reconstructed roundhouses in America. An online search failed to reveal any Celtic ones. However, there is a Native American tradition of roundhouse building. Here are two examples from California:

First is a 1947 picture of a roundhouse on the reservation of the Tuolumne band of the Me-Wuk (or Miwok) tribe in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. A typical Me-Wuk village consisted of umachas (cedar bark houses), chakkas (acorn granaries) and a hangi (ceremonial roundhouse). The ceremonial roundhouse was the center of tribal life, used for a variety of purposes by different groups. They are typically 30 to 40 feet in diameter and roofed with earth, bark, or, as with this one, wooden shingles. Dances are still held in these roundhouses to give thanks and to honour all that the Earth Mother has given to the people.Me-Wuk_round_house_front_view_1947Me-Wuk roudhouse Chaw Se exteriorA second Me-Wuk roundhouse (left) was built in 1974 within the Indian Grinding Rock State Historic Park. As with the Tuolumne example, the door faces East, towards the rising sun. Four large oak posts support the roof of the sixty foot diameter structure (below left). The rest of the roundhouse is constructed of cedar poles secured with grapevine and the roof is topped with cedar bark. Inside is a central fire pit. A fire exit was added in the rear of the structure in 1993 to comply with state fire regulations. The door faces the east to catch the sunrise. The roundhouse is still used today, 090-P0073123on occasion, for ceremonial dances. It has a plaque outside designating it as California Registered Historical Landmark No. 1001.

One notable similarity between the two roundhouse-building traditions is that both British and Native American examples have doors oriented to the East, or an arc between East and South-east. The practical reason is to allow maximum daylight into the roundhouse via the doors. The spiritual reason, which I’m sure is the same in both traditions, is that the sun is recognised as a divine source of light, warmth and healing.There’s archaeological evidence that some larger British roundhouses were used for ceremonial purposes during the Iron Age, as ours in Shropshire is and as the Me-Wuk ones are.

One difference beroundhouse rooftween the two traditions, obvious from the photos here, is the pitch of the roof. Having a straw-thatched roof on a roundhouse means you have to apply a fairly thin thatch so that smoke from the central fire will filter out through it. A thin thatch means you have to rake up the angle of the roof so that rain will run off it quickly and not have time to soak through. A bark or wooden shingle roof with a central smoke-hole allows for a much lower pitch that will still shed rain off successfully.

There’s an idea that leaving a smoke-hole in the roof of a British-style roundhouse will create a funnel that will draw up sparks and set fire to the thatch. Having lived with a roundhouse for six years now and lit many fires in it, I’m not convinced of this. I think that if the smoke-hole is created by pulling out a ring of thatch towards the top of the cone, you’ll have a way for smoke to get out but will still have enough inside the upper part of the roof that any sparks going up above the rafters will be extinguished from lack of oxygen. I’m going to try it with ours in Shropshire (above right).

Will I end up teaching Iron Age roundhouse building techniques in the USA? It’s a thought. After all, there’s a lot of interest in Celtic heritage in the USA. You only have to look at the string of American presidents since at least John Kennedy who have traced their roots to villages in Ireland or, occasionally, Scotland. Many European-Americans do have Celtic ancestors and value those ancestral links. Helping to build, or being able to visit, the kind of houses their ancestors lived in would be another powerful way to honour and enhance those ancestral connections.

Many blessings,
Greywolf /|\

 

A British Druid in the Pacific Northwest

Fallow Deer Doe and Fawn edit(To expand any of the pictures, just click on them)

As my sons and I were walking up the hill out of our Wiltshire village, heading for the bus stop where my journey was to begin, a mother fallow deer and two young fawns emerged from the hedgerow and crossed the road a few yards ahead of us. I took this as a very propitious sign.
The ostensible purpose behind my trip was three-fold; to visit old friends in Seattle, to offer teaching in Druidry, and last but by no means least to spend time at La Push, home of the Quileute people out on the Pacific coast of the Olympic Peninsula. The Quileute connection began ten years ago, when my sons and I were made members of the drum circle at La Push following an extraordinary series of ‘cosmic coincidences’, not least of which involved one of the tribal elders having a vision of my coming five days before we arrived. All three purposes were achieved, but another soon became apparent: a dear friend had been diagnosed with cancer and was going into hospital for exploratory surgery shortly after our workshop weekend at La Push.
Shiva & Leon in the Thali HouseAn important part of my Seattle home from home is the Travelers Thali House Indian restaurant on Beacon Hill, run by my friends, Leon and Allen. Allen is an artist and an amazing cook who has spent time travelling around India gathering recipes, so the food at the Thali House is about the most authentic Indian dining you’ll find outside of India. Allen’s own art (that’s his Goddess Yantra below left) and many beautiful Indian artefacts Thali House Goddess Yantra editadorn the restaurant, adding to its relaxed, peaceful atmosphere. However, I only had a couple of days in Seattle before heading to LaPush for the first of the trip’s workshops.
As we approached LaPush, we passed two black-tailed deer (below) grazing at the side of the road. Another propitious sign and another link between my Wiltshire home and the Olympic Peninsula.black-tailed deer edit

 

 

 

Our workshops being so far from the city and stretching over three days, we didn’t bring a huge crowd with us, but one was provided for us by a surfing contest taking place over the same weekend all along the beach in front of the lodge building my friends had hired for us. This mostly ruled out moving any of our sessions onto the beach, though we did drum on the last evening as a brilliant moon created a path of light out across the Pacific to the far horizon.
La Push BeachThe talks and workshops went well, particularly a drum journey to find one’s personal place of healing. My friend with cancer, who’d been feeling understandably rough for quite a while, was particularly blissed out by the journey, which was good. I also shared a system of healing I’d found in a medieval Irish manuscript.
Third Beach - Red Deer drum & MugworteditAfter the weekend, I stayed on at La Push in one of the little A-frame cabins, sharing it with a friend who was to drive us back to the city after the Wednesday evening potluck feast and drum circle at the Community Hall in the village. I’d brought along a new drum I made earlier this year, a big thunder-drum with an Ash hoop and Red Deer skin (left). Previously, I’ve used a Remo Buffalo Drum with an artificial skin, bought on my previous trip to Seattle and first played in ritual with the Quileute Drum Circle.
On Monday afternoon we walked along the beach and watched seals fishing close inshore. To my delight, they were joined by a small flock of my favourite Druid birds, cormorants. The beach ends in a narrow spit that juts out to the base of tall island stacks that lie just offshore. One of these is called A’ka’lat in the Quileute language, meaning ‘top of the rock.’ 8-9,000 years of tribal chiefs were lain to rest there in cedar canoes placed in the branches of the trees that cover the top of the island. A’ka’lat (below) is a powerful spiritual focus of Quileute life.A-Ka-Lat
On Tuesday, my friend wanted to find a beach she’d last visited more than 30 years ago. She recalled it being called Third Beach but decided that it wasn’t the Third Beach just along from La Push but another, further North on the Makah reservation. So we set out in her car in search of a memory.
richard-daugherty-ozette editWe called in at the Makah Tribal Museum, a wonderful place, containing a full-scale replica of a Makah longhouse, based on those excavated at Lake Ozette in the 1970s. These had been remarkably well preserved due to the village having been swamped by a mudslide some 5 or 600 years ago. The picture (left) shows Richard Daugherty, who led the excavations and changed American archaeology forever by working on the site mainly with local Makah folk. He died earlier this year aged 91. The carved and decorated whale-fin in the picture is one of emi ishino orcamany objects from the excavations housed in the museum which is large, well laid out, and covers all aspects of tribal life, weaving, fishing, woodworking, decorative arts, myths and legends and much more. In common with other peoples of the Olympic Peninsula, the Makah hold the Orca (left) sacred and have legends of a Thunderbird who brings storms and of Raven as trickster and culture hero. They call the Orca the Sea-Wolf. The first exhibit I came across, however, was devoted to the eagle and its role in tribal culture. This was interesting as I’d spent much of the drive thinking about eagles, a spirit bird with whom I’ve worked a lot in the UK.
We drove on to the end of a trail that leads out to a clifftop perch that is the furthest Northwest tip of the United States, at least before you get to Alaska. The cliffs there have great caverns that pierce right through them. Just before we arrived, folk had been watching an Orca circling through these sea-caves. We drummed and sang, much to the delight of an 11 year old girl who sang along, and of her grandfather, who turned out to be a retired professor of environmental science and a really nice guy. No memory beach though.
Third Beach Forest Path TreesOn Wednesday morning, we decided to try the Third Beach that’s near La Push. It turned out to be the one. My friend remembered the trees as being huge. However, a sizeable part of the tribe’s income is derived from logging, so most of the big trees had been felled and the area replanted since her previous visit. There were, however, some big stumps left, some still several feet tall. We followed the long path down to the beach.
During the walk, I felt a sense of sadness from the earth for what had been lost through the long years when the government had banned the Quileute from speaking their own language or conducting their sacred ceremonies. This, however, was overlaid with a sense of returning power and growing strength. I felt that this stems from the tribe’s renewal of traditional ceremonies through the Drum Circle, and through other renewed traditions, like that of holding an annual canoe journey along the coast in company with other coastal tribes. This was revived in 1997 and has grown larger each year since.
Quileute beach salmon catch c 1905Long ago, K’wati, the Transformer, changed wolves into humans to create the first members of the Quileute tribe. He told them their descendants would always be brave and strong because they were descended from wolves. He was right. In the late 19th century, the government told the Quileute to move to a reservation on the land of their Quinault neighbours. They refused and stayed in their own village. They’re still there. Some years later, a white settler burnt down most of their houses while the villagers were away working. They rebuilt. The photograph (left) dates from around 1900 and shows members of the tribe on the beach at LaPush dealing with a fish catch. In the early 20th century, the tribe were denied their fishing rights, removing both an important source of income and a primary source of food. In the worst of times, Quileute numbers fell to below 50. Now, there are around 750 Quileute, they have regained their fishing rights, built a tribal school in which their language is being taught, have seen tourist numbers and the resulting revenue increase tenfold in the last ten years and have been given back an area of their original tribal land on which to rebuild their public buildings inland, away from the coastal tsunami zone.
My friend, Leon ReedGWat3rdBeachLaPushedit, Seattle’s longest-serving Wiccan Elder and Druid priest, had suggested I bring with me to La Push a wolf-skin he’d been given many years ago. It’s a single hide of what must have been a huge grey wolf. It’s now moulting, though the leather is still in very good shape. Since we’d been on the coast, I’d envisioned myself drumming whilst wearing this wolfskin, but it had never felt right to do so on First Beach at La Push. Third Beach turned out to be the place of my vision, so I fastened the hide across my shoulders, picked up my drum and walked to the shoreline where waves were breaking across the sand.
It had been misty, cool and damp for the previous couple of days so my drum had absorbed moisture and not been at its best. A minute of holding it up to the bright sun and blue skies that greeted us on Third Beach was enough to bring back its voice and it sang for me. As the drum sang, so I began to sing with it, wordless sounds that expressed and evoked a powerful, joyous energy rising up in me. There was something so right about being there and doing what I was doing.
Eventually, realising that time was passing, I drummed and sang a farewell song to the spirits of the place. Again, it consisted of whatever sounds or words came to me and whatever rhythm seemed right. This is often the way. Songs come for whatever your intention is, stay long enough to do what they are needed to do and then float away on the wind, perhaps never to be heard again in this world, or maybe to come back as and when they’re needed. That time on Third Beach was beautiful, soul-nourishing and filled with power and magic. It will long stay with me.
Back to the cabin for a quick change and a short rest before making our way to the Community Hall for the evening’s feast and Drum Circle. The Hall was not where I remembered from last time, but we encountered a couple who showed us they way. We came in through what turned out to be the back door and were among the first to arrive. Preparations for the feast were, however, well under way. We added the flagon of fruit juice and the big water melon we’d brought with us to the stock in the kitchen. One of the elders spotted my 10-year-old Drum Circle T-shirt, smiled and said, “Ain’t seen one of them for a while.”
The feast was laid out on trestle tables near the kitchen and consisted of two big trays full of fresh cooked salmon, a big cauldron of beef stew, a range of vegetables and bread. There was plenty to go around. Soon two lines of trestle tables filled up with villagers and visitors sharing this rich feast. We sat opposite a mother whose 12-year-old daughter was a huge Twilight fan.
In case you’ve missed the Twilight phenomenon, it began as a series of books written by Stephanie Meyer and burgeoned into a series of incredibly successful films. Apparently Meyer wanted to set a vampire novel in the wettest part of the United States and a google search revealed that to be the town of Forks, located on the Olympic Peninsula not far from the Quileute reservation. She noticed the presence of the village of La Push and then found the Quileute sacred legend of their descent from shape-shifting wolves. She therefore decided to portray the young males of La Push as werewolves. As far as I can discover, she has offered the Quileute nothing from the millions she’s earned from this bastardisation of their sacred history and nor has the film company. The Burke Museum in Seattle hosts an excellent site that looks at the reality of Quileute life as compared to their Twilight portrayal. The tribe has seen some benefits as Twilight-related tourism has swollen tribal coffers and created some new jobs. Native American actors from the films have lent the weight of celebrity to local causes. Twilight’s huge popularity amongst children has helped pressure politicians into acceding to the tribe’s request for the return of some of their land.La Push Border - The Sign This road sign greets visitors.
At my first visit to the Drum Circle, there had been a Potlatch ceremony after the feast in which gifts were exchanged between members of the tribe and given to visitors. It was during this that I’d sung my wolf chant, leading to myself and my sons, Joe and Mike, being made members of the Drum Circle. Incidentally, at the time when I sang the wolf chant, I had not known that the Quileute are descended from shape-shifting wolves. Cosmic coincidence…
Ten years later, much had changed. There was no Potlatch giving ceremony apart from three youngsters who had birthdays who sat on chairs in the middle of the dance circle and were given small gifts, mostly dollars. The dance circle now is painted on the floor of the Hall, marked with the four directions. Chairs were placed in a circle around it, where before they’d just been pushed back against the walls.
Before the dances began, three men of the Drum Circle led songs in rich, vibrant baritone voices that filled the hall with powerful waves of sound. The format was for one of the three to begin, then for others who knew the song to join in.
Doug Zilke ThunderbirdThe Drum Circle then gathered in a corner of the Hall next to the gap between chairs that formed the entrance to the dance floor. The drummers were mostly younger than I remembered. I joined them, as did a handful of other non-Native folk. The only comment to me from a member of the Circle was “Big drum.” Being a drummer, you naturally take a keen interest in everyone else’s drums. These were a varied group, some clearly hand-made, several small Remo drums whose artificial hides are not prone to changes of tone in the same way that natural hides are, a real bonus in a climate as wet and cool as that of the Northwest Pacific coast. Some were painted, others not. Of the painted ones, the ones that registered most strongly with me was painted with an image of T’ist’ilal, the Thunderbird (left).
Then we started. Again, the format was for one of the three lead singers to start a song and for others to join in after the first round. Drumming was carried out the same way, the lead singer starting to drum, the rest of us joining in after a few beats and following his rhythm. I had my back to the dance circle, focused on following the lead drummer. The rhythms were powerful, strong, the varied voices of the drums blending well together. A shortish, thin guy in the corner was one of the three lead singers and had a big Remo drum. It was he who’d commented on mine. He smiled a lot, laughed a fair bit, had a great singing voice and did a good deal of the leading of both songs and drumming for the first part of the evening.
The songs were very different this time. Gone were the cowboy songs that had formed part of the repertoire a decade earlier, replaced with a more structured programme of local, traditional songs. The dances too were more formal.
Quileute_Masks c 1905After the first few songs and dances, dancers wearing traditional masks appeared among us. Some masks were of wood, others of thick card, each painted with a character from Quileute sacred history, powerful spirit beings such as Thunderbird (T’ist’ilal), Wolf (K’wali) and Orca (K’wal’la, literally ‘Wolf of the Ocean’). Photography is not allowed during the ceremony. The picture here, taken around 1905, shows two Quileute men with carved wooden dance masks.
There were, if memory serves, six masked dancers, the youngest of whom seemed about nine years old, the oldest perhaps early twenties. The young boy showed a focus I’ve rarely seen in one so young. They took the lead in the next group of dances while we drummed and sang for them. The power in the hall and amongst the drummers and dancers seemed to ramp up several notches.
When the masked dancers arrived, the grey-haired man who had earlier commented on my T-shirt came and drummed beside me. He wore a traditional hat of woven cedar-bark and a red blanket around his shoulders. The dancers wore similar colourful blankets which flew out around them as they danced. The next image shows Quileute mask-maker, Roger Jackson, with some of the dance masks he’s made. Roger Jackson maskmaker seattle times photoAnother of the three main singers took the lead for the masked dances, a big guy with a lined face, dressed in blue. He handed over his drum and used a fan of dark feathers to beat out time. When a dance was coming to an end, he inverted the feathers and beat downwards with them until the stop. These stops came suddenly and I admit to missing a couple of them and throwing in an extra beat after everybody else. I’m reminded of a piece of liturgy I’ve found in several places, from ancient Greece to modern America. Basically, it asks the gods and ancestors to forgive us for our mistakes in sacred ceremonies. Mostly though, I stopped along with the rest. The use of the feathers really helped a novice like me, unfamiliar with the songs, giving a clear visual focus.
Our role was not only to drum and sing for the dances themselves, but also to drum fresh energy into the masked dancers between them. When each dance came to an end, they would file out from the dance circle and hunker down on the floor in the middle of our little group of drummers. We would then abandon rhythm, close in around them, and just drum powerfully and fast to raise power for the dancers. This was also amazingly powerful for us, renewing our own energy to drum and sing for the next dance. I was being terribly English and taking a respectful step back each time the dancers rejoined us until one of the dancers waved me back in to the knot of drummers. From them on I made sure I leaned in close with the others. As said, photography is not allowed during these ceremonies. The wolf-masked dancers here were photographed in 2011 at a public event, the Northwest Native Community Celebration.QuileuteDancers2011After the masked dances, there were a few more songs and less formal dances. The evening ended with a light-hearted exchange between the male drummers and singers and a party of female dancers. This took the form of a mock singing contest in which the women would sing a verse while the men pretended to be straining to hear them and made comments to each other like, “Do hear something? Nope, me neither.” Then the men would sing a verse, sometimes wandering over to the group of women and making a cheeky comment, to which the women would respond either with a similarly cheeky comment or by bopping the miscreant on the head with a plastic water-bottle or whatever else came to hand. It was very funny. Afterwards, we all drifted out into the night.
I feel honoured to have had this opportunity to be a part of such a powerful ceremony. The Quileute are the People of the Wolf and, as such, I think of them as brothers and sisters.
OvateBooklet10_12DoorwaysOn Saturday we made a sun-blessed ceremony with the Gorsedd of Bards of Caer Pugetia (aka Bards of Turtle Island) in a Seattle Park. On Sunday I conducted a workshop on the ’12 Doorways of the Soul’ healing technique that features in the British Druid Order ovate course. This took place at the Seattle healing practice of my friend, Amy, who I’d shared the technique with earlier in the week. It was a very successful session and I’ve accredited Amy as a practitioner of the technique. She’s since used it with clients with great success. Amy, a Reiki practitioner for many years, was kind enough to pass on comments from a regular client who told her that the 12 Doorways technique seemed much more potent than Reiki.
On Monday, we visited a lovely house in a part of the city I’d not been to before. There I introduced BDO-style Druidry to a group of about 20 people. On of them, Gail, has family ties with both the Quileute and Makah tribes. She and her husband, Ted, live on the Makah Reservation. Her nine-year-old grandson was one of the masked dancers I’d drummed for at LaPush. She confirmed that the Quileute recognise my WillowNecklaceconnection with them and said she’d been told to tell me that I have Wolf on one side and the Wolf of the Ocean, the Orca, on the other. She presented me with a woven pouch decorated with beads and shells that she and her husband had made. I placed in it a beautiful crystal-hung calendar necklace Leon made me. Another friend, Willow, made and gave me a coyote-tooth and mammoth ivory necklace at the Gorsedd. I’m wearing it now as I write. That’s it in the picture. Not the best photo ever … I’m rubbish at ‘selfies.’
Incidentally, in case anyone’s wondering, I am not a Wannabee Indian. I’m an English Druid, have been for forty years and will continue to be so ’til my last breath. I do, however, greatly enjoy sharing ceremonies with folk of other cultures, whether that be joining ceremonies in LaPush or welcoming Lakota or Australian Aboriginal visitors to Druid ceremonies at stone circles in the UK. I am always delighted to find how much we have in common. Through honouring and learning to work with our own ancestors and the spirits of our own land, we open our hearts, minds and spirits to others who do the same in other lands. Spirit workers from many traditions I’ve communicated with over the years agree that if humanity is to be steered away from its current path of destruction, it will be the spirit workers of the world who bring it about. Shifting consciousness is, after all, a basis of our art and a shift in conscousness is what’s required to open humanity to a better path. This won’t be easy, but by sharing ceremonies, knowledge and understanding, we strengthen and support each other in the difficult task that faces us.
My friend with cancer has had some good news. Following chemotherapy and good vibes flowing in from around the world (he’s very well liked), the tumour has shrunk and medics are discussing whether they need it to shrink further or whether they can operate to remove it without another course of chemo.
This latest trip to the Pacific Northwest was a remarkable one, as each previous one has been. There is undoubtedly a powerful link between my sons and myself and the land and people of this distant region, the two-legged, the four-legged, the feathered and the finned. It’s a great mystery how I allowed ten years to pass between visits and I shall strongly endeavour not to let so much time elapse before the next.
With profound thanks, much love and many blessings to all my friends and extended family in the US,
Greywolf

Animal Spirits

I think I could turn and live with animals,
they are so placid and self-contain’d,
I stand and look at them long and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things,
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.
So they show their relations to me and I accept them,
They bring me tokens of myself, they evince them plainly in their possession.
Walt Whitman (1819-1892), from ‘Song of Myself.’
heron2
You may have noticed that I have a bit of a thing about animals. As a child, I had an instinctive understanding that they were a special breed of people. I suspect this is an extremely common human experience. After all, traditional stories told to children around the world are full of talking animals, animal helpers, teachers and guides, and animal transformations.
One of my earliest connections with a non-human species was with herons. As a misfit amongst family and contemporaries, I was naturally drawn to these solitary birds. I saw them standing perfectly still at the edge of the ditches that criss-crossed Romney Marsh, on the borders of which I lived. They would hold this pose for hours at a time, just occasionally shifting from one leg to the other, waiting for fish or, more likely on the Marsh, eels, to swim past and provide them with food. There was a calm simplicity, an unpretentious dignity, about them. Their muted colours, pale grey with flashes of white and black, added to the sense they exuded of being “so placid and self-contain’d.” My first recollection of anything resembling meditation, before I even knew Golden Eagle2there was such a thing, consisted of trying to put myself into a similar state of calm, to render myself unruffled and untroubled like the heron. I did indeed “stand and look at them long and long.”
In my book, Druidry: A Practical and Inspirational Guide (Piatkus, 2000), I wrote of an experience at a Druid camp of swapping consciousnesses with an eagle and soaring high above the world on powerful wings. I’ve also written of the sweat lodge in which I first encountered the spirit wolf who was to become such a central part of my life and from whom I draw the craft name, Greywolf. He and I have also traded spirits so that I perceive the world through his eyes and he through mine. In other circumstances, when called for, I have become a serpent or a dolphin.
These experiences of becoming other-than-human are well described in Whitman’s poem, famously quoted by Lord Summerisle as played by Christopher Lee in the film, The Wicker Man.

I share Whitman’s sense of animals having a different, much clearer, less encumbered engagement with life than we humans with our tangled webs of guilts and fears. They perceive clearly what needs to be done and go about doing it in the most efficient way possible. We, on the other hand, often fail to act, held back by worry about possible consequences. While in many cases this is clearly a good thing, we often take it to extremes where we are paralysed from taking any action at all, even when circumstances demand it. The results of inaction then often add to our worry and frustration, erode away our sense of self-worth, and can lead to severe psychological imbalance.
wolf5Becoming animal breaks us free of this destructive cycle by allowing us a clearer perspective, enabling us to see what is really important and to discard the rest. This has been proven to me time and again. Things that have angered and frustrated me as a human and which I have felt unable or unwilling to address have often melted into insignificance when I have become wolf or eagle. Either that or, in animal form, the right and only course of action to pursue has become crystal clear and my animal self has had the strength and courage to follow it through.
In shape-shifting, the physical perspective alters, so that as an eagle you see fields and houses way below and have a clear, unbroken view to the far horizon, while as a wolf, your visual perspective is much nearer the ground while your sense of smell and hearing are hugely enhanced. However, it is not just the physical perspective that shifts. Inhabiting the body of an animal, seeing through its eyes, experiencing the world through its other senses, also changes how we feel about the world and our place in it. As Whitman says, animals “do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins.” For us as humans, this psychological shift is profound, freeing us from doubt, fear and allWOLF3 the other stifling emotions that prevent us from achieving clarity and acting decisively on it. The importance of this gift cannot be over-stressed.
In my experience, we all have spirit animals who protect and guide us. At least, I’ve only ever encountered one person who didn’t. He was a long-term drug addict whose physical and mental state had deteriorated to such an extent that no spirit animal had felt able to remain with him.
It is my belief that we do not choose which spirit animals we have, but that they choose us, drawn to us by who we are, how we think and what we do. When these things change, one set of spirit animals may leave us and another take their place. With me the major transition was from solitary heron as a child to pack animal wolf as an adult.
How we discover our spirit animal guardians, guides and helpers varies from person to person and place to place. They may be encountered in vivid dreams or spontaneous or deliberately sought for visions, or may emerge simply through a deep fascination with one particular species.
Having discovered one’s ‘power animal’, what happens next? In my case, the discovery of ‘my’ wolf was quickly followed by the acquisition of a wolf-skin cloak, wolf stories and images, a wolf tooth and a wolf chant. The chant as originally given to me in the 1990s originated with the Seneca people of North America. However, it immediately transformed into a native British wolf chant very different from the Seneca original. I posted it on youtube a while ago.

albino fallow deerDeer are prey animals to wolves and, as such, have an important place in the wolf’s world. Visiting a deer park one day about ten years ago, an albino fallow deer shed one of its antlers next to our car. I accepted this rare and precious gift, gathered it and took it home. Washing it off in the shower later, the deer’s spirit gave me a song that I recently posted on youtube. I still have the antler…

Having studied other cultures and shared ceremonies with indigenous peoples including the Quileute (‘Wolf People’) and Makah tribes of the Olympic Peninsula in the Pacific Northwest U.S.A., I know that fregerwildermannsuch animal spirit songs and chants are common around the world. In Britain and Northern Europe, they have been largely lost to the erosion of history and in particular to the onset of Christianity. Early Christian edicts specifically outlaw dressing up as, and acting like, animals. In spite of this, animal-like costumes are still worn as part of folk festivals across much of Europe. Charles Fréger has photographed several such costumes in a series called Wilder Mann.
While some of these folk figures may have traditional songs that accompany their appearance, as does the Padstow ‘Obby ‘Oss in Cornwall, they have no doubt changed considerably over the years under the influence of a hostile church.
Having been given the two chants featured here, it struck me as a good idea to try and restore a set of spirit animal power songs to our native tradition. The wolf and deer chants represent a beginning and other chants will be added as they come. I’ve worked with eagle quite a lot, so have high hopes there. My son, Joe, has strong bear magic, so I hope we can come up with a good bear chant. I already have a serpent chant, though not yet recorded. The plan is to establish a collection of songs and chants relating to some of our most prominent native (or formerly native) species and to put them out on CD. In the meantime, I’ll post them on youtubBrownbear2e and facebook as and when they emerge and I have time to record them.
I’d appreciate your help. If you work with an animal spirit and have a song or chant that you use to help maintain your link with that animal, please record it (however roughly), post it (letting me know where), and we’ll polish it up, re-record it if necessary, and add it to the collection. When the CD comes out you will, of course, be fully credited. Having no idea how much interest in this project there might be, I’m unable to make any estimate as to what, if any, royalties might flow from it. To be honest, that’s not my concern. The intention is simply to restore or re-create another, potentially very powerful, aspect of our native spiritual tradition and to share it with those who might find it useful in making, enhancing and maintaining their own relationships with the spirit animals who have so much to teach us and share with us.
Many blessings,
Greywolf /|\

Roundhouses, Thatching, Wicker Men & Gods

MuseumofWelshLifeRoundhousesx800Since October 20th, I’ve been helping to thatch a pair of Iron Age roundhouses at the Museum of Welsh Life in St. Fagans, not far from Cardiff in South Wales. The Museum has a 100 acres of grounds, in which are buildings from many parts of Wales and many eras of Welsh history, including a church, a water mill, stone cottages and Victorian shops. The roundhouses I’m working on are based on the archaeology of a site on Angelsey, that legendary Druidic isle.
MWLRoundhouseDay2John&Gorsex800I’m sharing a cottage nearby with two friends, Ken and John, both of whom helped build my roundhouse in Shropshire. John is an expert in ancient thatching methods and taught me to thatch. Both the roundhouses we’re working on are bigger than mine. One is 38 feet in diameter, the other 45. Mine’s just 28. The larger of the two at St. Fagans is over 28 feet tall, ten feet taller than mine. We have just eight weeks to thatch them both.
MWLJohn&Ianx800Since no one knows how Iron Age roofs were constructed, we’re using a method that has historical precedent in the medieval period. Working on a base of hazel and willow wattle, we’re weaving in a thick layer of gorse. Over this, we’ll lay a thin coat of heather, pressing down on it to compact the gorse. Then we’ll stuff straw into this base coat in a process called, appropriately, stuff-thatching.
Day6Endx800 I’ve been meeting lots of interesting folk here. We have groups of volunteers helping out, including archaeology students and guys on probation. Then there are the archaeological consultants on the project and Ian, the resident Iron Age reenactor, who’s building an 18 foot wicker man this week to be burned at Hallowe’en. It’s a public event here at the Museum and you’re welcome to come along. It starts at 4pm on the 31st.
23GwydionI love thatching, and roundhouses. I hope to bring some Druidry to these two when they’re complete, giving talks and maybe workshops and ceremonies. I’m weaving Druidry into it as we work. A time-lapse camera is set up to photograph the site every 30 minutes. This morning it caught me invoking gods, including Arianrhod of the starry skies and Gwydion, antlered lord of forests. Appropriate, I think, to the setting of a Museum of Welsh Life.
Blessings to all, and have a wondrous Hallowe’en (or Nos Galan Gaeaf as it’s called in Wales, ‘Nights of Winter Calends’)!
Greywolf /|\

The Art of Drum-Making, A Beginner’s Guide: Part Three: Making the Drums

Having felled the tree, made the hoops and cured and stretched the hide, now it’s time to bring them together and actually make the drums in this, the third and final part of my little beginner’s guide to drum-makingDrumHoopMeetsSkinx800.
I began by soaking the hide for a few hours. When good and wet, I laid it out rough side up, flat on a table. I then placed the first hoop, the larger of the two, on the hide and drew around it with a soft pencil. Then, using a little jig made out of a scrap piece of frame wood, I marked another round, 4” out from the hoop. This allows for the 3” depth of the hoop plus another inch to overlap.
DrumSkinFittingx800Next, I cut around the outer pencil marks with a sharp pair of scissors, following which it’s time to punch the holes to thread the rawhide cord through. This is done with a leather punch set to its largest hole size. What you want is 32 holes in 16 pairs. First, fold the skin in half. This gives you two opposite sides you can punch two holes each through, about an inch apart and about a half-inch in from the edge of the hide. Next, fold in half again so that the two pairs of holes you’ve just punched GWthreadingDrumx800match up with each other. At either end of this second fold, punch another two holes. Now fold the hide in between the sets of holes you’ve already punched, lining them up with their opposites. Again, at either end of your fold, punch two more holes. Keep doing this until you have 16 sets of evenly spaced holes around the edge of your hide. Having cut out and hole-punched both drum-skins, back they go in the bin of clean rainwater to soak.
Having a fair bit of spare hide left, the next stage is to cut the cord you’ll use to bind the skin to the drum hoop. Take your sharp pair of scissors and cut strips of hide about a quarter to half an inch wide. It helps if you leave a wider tab at one end, cut in the shape of a leaf and with a hole through the middle of it. The cord will stretch to a lot less than its original width when you come to use it, but it needs to be narrow enough to fit through your punched holes. Cut the strips as long as you can. You’re going to need several yards to do a drum and it needs to be one continuous strip. It may help to know that rawhide cord is incredibly tough. You can test its strength for yourself. Cut a strip about a yard long and the DrumThreadedx800width you’re going to use on your drum. Now grab one end in each hand and pull for all you’re worth. If you’ve got your curing right, you’ll be amazed at how strong it is. When you’ve cut your cord, pop it back in the tub to soak.
Lay the hide flat on the table again, rough side up and, using your pencil marks as a guide, position your hoop on it. Now grab the edge of the hide on opposite sides of the hoop and pull to stretch it. Do that all the way around. DrumFinalKnotx800Then start pulling the hide up over the rim of the hoop. Again, do this all the way round. Now you’re ready to start threading the cord through your pre-punched holes.
Take the end with the tab on it and poke it through a pair of holes on one side of the drum. Then take the other end of your cord, locate the pair of holes directly opposite the ones you’ve just threaded through and pass the other end of your cord through them, pulling the whole length through. OK, from here on you need to watch this video, in which Salish drum-maker, Jorge Lewis, gives perfect teaching on how to thread a drum. This is the video that taught me how to do it. Follow it carefully and take notes as you go. It’s the best teaching video I’ve ever seen.

Jorge Lewis reminds me of an aspect of drum-making that I haven’t emphasised enough, which is the ritual that accompanies every stage of the process, from communicating with the tree spirit before felling the tree from which the hoops are made, through acknowledging the death of the deer whose hide will be the drum’s skin. I fluted for the deer when the hide was lain in the brook at Wild Ways to be washed, and again when it was washed in the brook that runs past my house after being cut to size. I drummed with my previous drum and shook my rattle to call in good spirits to the hoop and hide. I placed scented herbs around the bin in which the hide was curing. Every step of the way there was ritual, music, communication with the spirits of tree and deer and prayers to the spirits of the brooks and the old gods of our lands. Without these things, you can still produce a drum, but it will not live. A vital part of the process for me is the knowledge that the tree and the deer that have given themselves to make the drum will live on and sing on through it, that their spirits will enable this drum to communicate with other spirits as its song passes between the worlds. The drum is a ritual tool of great power. Of course there must be continual ritual throughout its making.
2ndDrumJoeLacingx800For me, a personal pleasure of threading the hide onto the hoop was having my son, Joe, help me (right). He proved very adept and will soon be beginning the journey of making his own drum. My youngest son, Mike, took pictures as we worked.
One thing about being a beginner drum-maker is that there’s no way of knowing if you’ve got it right until the drum is not only finished but fully dried. The latter was achieved by hanging that first drum from the washing line in my garden, using the extra length of cord left over as per Jorge Lewis’ instructions. Then it’s just a question of waiting. Of course I found myself nipping out every half hour or so to check if it was dry yet. It took a while, but finally I could find no damp spots at all, not even in the cross-shaped wraps that form the drum’s handle and represent the four directions and their associated elements. Then came the testing moment. I took the drum 2ndDrumBeginningtoDryx800down from the line, took a beater in my hand and tried it for the first time. It sang! Not only did it give a good, strong sound, but that sound continued to reverberate for a satisfyingly long time after the first strike. It sounded beautiful, magical, powerful. I played some more. Woohoo! I’d made a drum! No words can express the heart-leaping joy, the sheer sense of soaring elation, that discovery produced. That wonderful moment made all the work inexpressibly more than worthwhile.
Joe and I set to and made the second, smaller drum. This had to dry overnight and ended up 2ndDrumAlmostFullyDryx800hanging from the stairs in our house. Again, the result was a beautiful drum with a deep, rich tone.
Next comes the process of developing a relationship with the drum. This is achieved, of course, by playing it. Because of the way these drums are made, they are never circular but always roughly egg-shaped. This means that different tones can be created by playing towards the edge of the skin where the drum’s width is narrowest, then moving round to 2ndDrumComplete+Joex800where it’s widest. The different thickness of the hide at different points also produces different tones. The beater can also make a huge difference to the sounds the drum produces. For this reason, I have two beaters (below right). One has a soft leather head stuffed with Red Deer fur. The head on the other is a piece of fur-on Red Deer hide with the fur on the outside. While the former produces a strong, powerful beat, the latter can be used to play very softly, producing a sound that has a Drum Beatershypnotic, deeply meditative quality. My drum, the first one I made, averages a little over 21” in diameter, which is quite large. Because of its size, its basic tone is a deep bass note very like that of my previous drum, a 22” Remo Buffalo drum that I came to call my thunder-drum (below).  My Red Deer drum is also a thunder-drum. However, it also produces a wide range of overtones that cover a broad sonic spectrum.

Greywolf & Thunder Drum

Playing the drum in ritual is another vital part of the process of getting to know it and learning to work in harmony with its inhabiting spirits. My drum and I have been to my heartland, the Avebury stone circles (see the video below), have played with the ancestors in the West Kennett Long Barrow, have played for the spirits of the brook that runs past our house and with the spirits of place where we live. We’ve travelled together to and within our beautiful Shropshire roundhouse and the surrounding woodland. Just recently, we’ve returned from a much longer journey to the Pacific Northwest of the USA. There I had the honour to drum with the Quileute Drum Circle, accompanying sacred masked dances that tell the legendary history of the tribe. While staying on the Quileute Reservation, in the village of LaPush, I drummed and sang on beautiful beaches overlooking the great Pacific Ocean and the drum helped restore and strengthen spiritual connections I once thought lost. But that’s another story for another time.

Undecorated DrumOne decision yet to be made is whether to paint my drum or not. It has patterning on it already, both from the darker colour where the stag’s strong spine ran and where that line is crossed by strange striations (upper left). My previous drum was painted all over with a design incorporating wolves and eagles (see the image above), two creatures I’ve worked with in spirit for many years. For this one an image of a white serpent keeps returning. For me, as for our ancestors, it represents healing and the renewal of life and energy. There’s a Pictish engraving that shows it well and in a style that might work for my drum. Here, computer software comes in useful. I can experiment with designs without actually committing them Possible Drum Designto the drum skin. Here’s a possible decoration, incorporating a Pictish wolf and eagle as well (lower left).
In the meantime, I’ve treated it by gently rubbing neatsfoot oil into the ties on the back, sides and upper, playing face of the skin with a soft cloth. Olive oil apparently works just as well. Oiling the drum skin helps preserve it and reduces the extent to which the drum’s tone changes in moist conditions. Being a natural hide, it will still change with variations in moisture and temperature. If it becomes too loose to play, hold it near an open fire or other heat source for a moment or two or aim a hair dryer at the playing surface. This will bring it back to playability. If it goes the other way and is getting too tight and dry, carry a little spray water bottle in your drum bag and use it to spray the inside of the drum skin, the side you haven’t applied oil to, as this will absorb moisture better. This will stop your skin from splitting and bring its tone back down. With care, I’m told these drums should still be playable a hundred years from now, so they could pass from you to your children and to their children and still be singing strong and true.
I am getting to know my drum and its spirits are getting to know me. I pray that we will deepen and strengthen our connections through many years to come. I give thanks to the spirits of my ancestors, whose voices have sung to me during the making and the playing. I give thanks, of course, to the spirits of the Ash tree and of the Red Deer stag. I honour you, kinfolk of the green world and the great forest. I give thanks to the old gods whose powers have strengthened and supported us on our journeys. May they continue to bring us strength and guidance through all our days and help us bring their wisdom and the powers of healing to our kinfolk and our tribes.
Many blessings,
Greywolf /|\

The Art of Drum-Making, A Beginner’s Guide: Part Two: Finding and Curing the Hides

I wanted to make drums with Red Deer hide. I have an affinity with these animals from a variety of angles. For one thing, over the last year or two I’ve developed a deeper knowledge and respect for one of our native deities, Gwydion ap Don. For a variety of reasons, I’ve come to recognise him as our local representative of the widespread antlered Lord of the Animals. Also, in 2008, when we started clearing the land on which our roundhouse was to be built, I immediately stubbed my toe on a deer skull hidden in the tangled undergrowth. The skull is now buried in the NE corner of the roundhouse. Rufus' Antlers above the roundhouse AltarAbove it (left) looms a massive pair of antlers belonging to a great old Red Deer stag called Rufus, who lived in the same valley. A powerful, shape-shifting deer spirit is the protector of the roundhouse, while another potent antlered spirit cares for the whole valley. I have communicated regularly with both for the last seven years. Plus there are few finer natural sights in Britain than a Red Deer stag walking through a forest. And then, of course, there’s the fact that I’m a wolf, and wolves certainly do like the strong, gamy taste of venison.
My initial problem was to find deer skins. I read online that the skins and other unwanted parts of many deer farmed for venison are simply thrown away, either burnt or buried, because they are viewed as having no economic value. I asked on facebook if anyone knew of where I could obtain some of these skins. I got a response from Peter Tyldesley, who manages the deer herds at Bradgate Park, Britain’s longest continuously operated deer park, dating back to the 14th century. He does make use of hides, antlers, etc., to the greatest extent possible. However, none of his hides had been used for drum-making. Peter gave me a good deal on five hides and they duly arrived. Four of them fitted into my freezer. The fifth didn’t. One slightly panicked phone call later, I had arranged to travel to Wild Ways, the woodland retreat centre run by my friends, Elaine and Garth. They had all the space and equipment I would need to treat the hide.
Never having treated a hide before, I resorted to the modern Druidical trick of appealing to the Internet. There I found a number of sites, some decidedly more useful than others. I discovered that a natural substWashing the Deer Hide in Borle Brookance that can be used to de-fur a hide is wood ash. It so happens that almost all the heating at Wild Ways is provided by wood-burning stoves. Garth kindly sieved a quantity of ash for me to get out most of the charcoal and other impurities.
The hides as Peter sent them had been well cleaned and salted. The first thing to do was to remove the salt. This was achieved with the aid of the brook that runs through Wild Ways, a tributary of the nearby River Severn, sacred to the native goddess, Sabrina. I tied the hide by its tail to an underwater root, weighted down the hide with stones and left it for a couple of days (left).
In the meantime, I built a frame on which to stretch the hide and tried to find out how much wood ash to use. Eventually, one website gave me the necessary key: you mix wood ash with one gallon of water until a fresh hen’s egg floats upright in it with a disc about an inch across showing. Brilliant!
Then it was time for a body-painting weekend, but that’s another blog.Wringing out the washed deer hide
Elaine loaned me a plastic dustbin, which I took down to the brook to carry the hide in. I washed the river mud off the hide as best as I could, wrung it out and put it in the bin. A thoroughly soaked hide from an adult Red Deer weighs quite a lot. Elaine helped me carry the bin across the field and lift it over the gate, where we had a wheelbarrow waiting for the rest of the journey through the woods.
The hide was then washed with spray from a hose, then again in clean rain water in the bin. Then I made up the wood ash solution in a bucket, added it to a further four gallons in the bin, stirred it around thoroughly with a stick, then lowered in the hide. NB. As I found when I searched the web, there are many approaches to curing hides for drum-making. I chose the techniques that felt right to me and it’s those I outline here. For another, equally valid, approach, see my old friend Corwen’s comment below…
The natural tendency of a hide with fur on is to float, so it’s necessary to weight it down with a flat rock. This then has to be left for a few days, during which time you take out the rock and stir the mixture with the hide around. The wood ash solution is alkaline. The effect it has is to cause the cellular structure of the hide to expand, loosening the follicles that hold in the fur. Test the fur every now and then. You’ll know it’s ready when you can run your hand across the hide and the fur just falls off. When this happens, pull out the hide and fully de-fur it. Because hides de-fur unevenly, you will probably need to scrape some of the fur off. A not-too-sharp knife works well for this. Put the hide on a flat surface, hold the knife so that the blade is at a little bit of an angle (as shown in the picture) and pull it towards you in even strokes, being careful not to apply so much pressure that you go through the skin.
Scraping the hideThen you need to flip it over and work on the flesh side (some recommend scraping the flesh side first). This needs to be scraped to remove any remaining bits of flesh and also to take off the layer of membrane covering this side of the hide. The wood ash solution should make this much easier. The worry is in knowing how far to go. Obviously you don’t want to go so far that you weaken the skin. The key seems to be to take it down until the flesh side shows clear white. I don’t think I’d left this first hide in the wood ash long enough because the flesh side proved something of a challenge. Back it went into the solution and back home I went for a few days while Elaine and Garth went to the 50th anniversary celebrations of the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids. After which, they gave me a lift back to Wild Ways.
Soaking the hide in baking soda solution More hide scraping on the flesh side, following which the hide was washed before going into another solution, this time of a handful of baking soda to four gallons of rain water. The idea of the baking soda is that it neutralises the Ph level of the hide after its long alkaline bath. After an overnight soak in the baking soda (right) and some more flesh scraping, the hide was washed again before being placed in four gallons of rainwater to which about a 1/3rd of a pint of clear vinegar had been added and left for about eight hours, stirring occasionally. This has the effect of raising the acidity level of the hide back to something like it was when you started. It also, usefully, takes away some of the strong smell the hide develops while soaking in the wood ash solution.
The stretcher frame Then comes the fun bit, sewing the hide to your beautifully constructed frame. Woohoo! If, like me, you’re lucky anough to have a friend with acres of woodland, you can do what I did and find strong saplings to construct your frame. The small cross-pieces on the corners provide extra strength and help stop the frame twisting out of shape too much as the skin dries and applies more tension to the frame. The corners of the frame shown here are lashed with strips of ash bark, which is remarkably strong. While this looks really neat, I admit that most of what’s holding the frame together is the screws I put in before the lashing was done. Some modern innovations are extremely useful. If you don’t have access to woodland, 8′ lengths of 3″ x 3″ from your local timber yard will do equally well, and that’s what I’ve used for making my second frame at home. You can use pretty much any kind of string or twine to attach the hide to the frame. I used sisal twine because there happened to be a lot of it going spare. A very useful tip I picked up from the Internet is to sew on your hide in four sections, the head end and tail end and both sides. By using separate lengths of cord for each of these you make it much easier to tighten or slacken them off as needed.
Deer hide stretched on frame The frame I made at Wild Ways was about 8 feet high and 4.5 feet across. This looked huge, but proved to be only just big enough. It’s called a stretching frame for a reason. The hide will stretch a lot. I’d seen an online video of a guy stitching a hide onto a frame, so I followed his lead, which was to use a small, pointed knife to pierce holes through the hide about a ¼ inch in from the edge of the hide. I was sure the wet skin would tear when I pulled the string tight. I was wrong. This stuff is really strong. Put your holes about five or six inches apart or wherever there’s a point of skin sticking out.
I started with the tail end. Having the tail still attached meant that I could tie it to the centre of the frame’s bottom with a separate piece of string and use it as my fixed point. I then flipped the frame up the other way and started at the former bottom, now top, right corner of the frame and threaded the twine through each of the already-made holes, looping around the frame as I went. I did the head end next as the already tied tail end gave me something the pull against. Same process. Make your holes first all the way across from one front leg to the other, then stitch and loop. Then I flipped the frame back the other way and did the same for the two sides.
At this point, check the tension on the strings. This is done simply by twanging them with a finger. If they are floppy, they need tightening. If you get a good, resonant twang, they’re fine. To tighten, work from one end of your side, top or bottom cord, pulling the cord through each threaded hole in turn as you go. At the far end of each run, undo the cord where you tied it in place, take up all the slack you’ve just created and tie it again. Do this all round until you’re happy that you’ve got all the strings as tight as you can. Don’t be afraid to tug quite hard. This is very tough stuff.
Drum hoop with pentagram 'signature' Then leave it for two or three days to dry, checking the cords every once in a while to make sure they’re still tight. You’ll probably find they’re tighter. After only about a day, my hide was so tight that it was already starting to sound quite drum-like. This is a good sign.
While all this was going on, I’d been finishing off two drum hoops I’d made at Wild Ways some time before. These were looking really good. The timber they are made from is Ash, a beautiful, pale wood. As is my habit, I’d rubbed linseed oil into them. This acts as a preservative, brings out a really nice golden glow in the wood and makes the grain stand out clearly. One of the last parts of my hoop-making process is to drill five small holes and thread rawhide through them in the form of a pentagram. This helps hold the already glued ends of the hoop together and is also my ‘signature’ (right).
With the hide drying nicely on the stretcher frame, I held the two drum hoops up against them and realised that, with care, I might get two drum skins out of this one hide. Woohoo!
The smaller of the two Ash hoops is kind of egg-shaped and kind of pentagram-shaped. It seems to want to manifest a vision of mine to create a little British sister to The World Drum, a Britannia Drum. The larger of the two fitted beautifully across some strange markings in the hide. It seems to want to be mine. I shall continue listening to what the hide and the hoops want of me during the rest of the making. The next stage is to cut the hide to size and fit it to the hoops. I’m very excited! See you next time at Greywolf’s Lair for Part Three: Making the Drums…

The Art of Drum-Making, A Beginner’s Guide: Part One

The first drumIf we truly learn by our mistakes, then I must have learned a lot over the last few months whilst struggling to master the art of drum-making. There are workshops up and down the country in which you can learn the necessary skills, but, as ever, my guiding spirits led me to do it the hard way.
My initial inspiration for wanting to try came from a film I first saw many years ago called The Shamans of the Blind Country (1981, directed by Michael Oppitz – scroll down to watch it), about shamans in a remote region of Northern Nepal. A group of them set out with a young apprentice to help him make his drum, the most important tool of his trade. First, he must dream of a tree, then lead his elders to it in the physical world. Next, to ensure that he has found the right tree, he must sleep by the base of its trunk and report any dreams he has to the elders next morning. Only if they agree is the tree felled.
Cutting the HoopHe found a tree, the dream was good, the tree was cut. The young apprentice and his companions then split it to make two rough, thick planks and set off back towards their village carrying them, stopping every now and then to reduce their thickness and smooth them down using a billhook, an adze and a machete (left). They make two in case one breaks when they try to bend it. Wise advice.
Cooking the hoop over a fireBending the drum hoopThey dug a circular pit the size of the required drum and banged a circle of wooden stakes into its floor. One of the prepared planks was then held over a fire for a few moments (right), after which one end was hooked into the staked hole and the remainder bent around the stakes (left). When the two ends overlapped, the whole was tied tightly around to hold it in shape. It was then fixed with iron nuts and bolts, the local belief being that iron is a powerful, magical material.
This all looked reasonably simple. Ha! If simple is what you’re after, buy ready-cut timber. If you want even simpler, you can buy ready-made drum hoops online for about £30. I decided to find a tree. Here it helps if you have friends who live in 80 acres of woodland. I am so blessed.
Finding the treeI was led to a thickly wooded bank where I found a couple of tall, straight trees that looked about the right size. However, when I placed my hands on their trunks, I got no indication from them that they were willing to work with me. I moved on and found an Ash tree that looked perfect and was located right next to a broad path. This time, when I touched the tree (right), a buzzard rose up from the trees a little way off, took to the sky and flew overhead towards the West.
Further confirmation of the rightness of this tree came when felling it. I cut a notch into the downhill side with a billhook then sawed through the trunk from the other side with a bow saw. The saw went through it with amazing ease and the tree fell perfectly down the side of the path.
I had thought of attempting to split the logs myself and pare them down to the required thickness using an adze. However, while building a roundhouse a few years ago, Ben's cunning deviceI’d tried log splitting using a billhook and mallet. It was a hopeless failure, the split twisting in all directions. I decided then to take up the kind offer of local all-round handy-man, Ben, and resident cabinet-maker, Garth, in shaping the wood. Ben has an ingenious chainsaw rig that did the initial cutting (left), while Garth’s workshop (below) provided the tools and expertise to produce strips of timber 9 feet long, 3 inches wide and ¼ inch thick. The actual length needed to make an 18” diameter drum is about 5 feet, but you need an extra foot or so to give you leverage during bending and, as an absolute beginner, I wanted to err heavily on the side of caution.Garth at work on the hoops
It was after the timber was sliced to size that I made my first mistake. It was beautifully flexible and I should have bent it there and then. However, it was the end of a long, hard day and mealtime beckoned. I thought the timber would be OK overnight. I was wrong. By the next morning it had lost most of its flexibility.
Toasting a hoop Nevertheless, I took the four cut lengths down to the roundhouse and tried the Nepalese shamans’ technique of cooking it briefly over an open fire (left). I transferred it to my circle of stakes and tried bending it. It hadn’t gone round much more than the first couple of stakes before it broke. OK, that wasn’t going to work then.
I’d seen another film online in which a Native American drum-maker had hauled his timber out of a river and, without heating or any other treatment, had successfully bent it around an iron former. Right, let’s try that then. Off to the Borle Brook, tributary to the River Severn with its inhabiting goddess-spirit, Sabrina. Roped the three remaining pieces together, weaving rope between them so that water would be able to circulate all around them, and put them into the Brook, holding them underwater using a conveniently placed tree root at one end and a rock at the other.
The first successful hoop. Woohoo!The guy in the video neglected to say how long he soaked his timber for, so I figured I’d leave mine overnight and then try it. Obviously not long enough. Another break. Left the remaining two another night, then tried again. One broke, the other, with a bit of help, held. Hooray! Well, it had one split that was caught and clamped to some of the extra length I’d cunningly left. Even so, back at the workshop, I had to resort to using bolts to hold it together as well as the rawhide thongs I’d intended to use. This held it together, though at the expense of increasing the weight. Nevertheless, I had my first useable drum hoop (above) and, in fact, given that my original inspiration had been thHoops in the Brooke Shamans of the Blind Country, the presence of the steel bolts was appropriate: in their part of Nepal it is traditional to add iron to every shaman’s drum hoop for its magical protective properties.
I helped Garth reduced the second log to five strips of the required size. These were again roped together and placed in the caring waters of the Brook. Then I had to go home.
Tune in next time for the further adventures of a Druid drum-maker. Most of the photos are by Elaine Gregory and a couple by me, apart from the screen-shots from Shamans of the Blind Country.
Many blessings,
Greywolf /|\

Shamans of the Blind Country, Part One (be aware, this film contains images of animal sacrifice that you may find disturbing):

Shamans of the Blind Country, Part Two (be aware, this film contains images of animal sacrifice that you may find disturbing):

Wolf Chant at Avebury

I’ve been meaning to record this Wolf Chant for years. It came to me after Ellen Evert Hopman brought a Seneca Wolf Chant to one of our Gorsedd circles in Avebury in 1994 or 95. I thought I’d memorised it, but next time I sang it to some other people who were at the Gorsedd, they told me I’d got it wrong. They taught it to me again. This time, I was sure I’d got it right. However, I was told I’d got it wrong again. This happened about four times and then I realised that what had happened was, I’d taken the inspiration of the Seneca chant, filtered it through my own spirit, and come up with an original, native British Wolf Chant. I’ve been singing it ever since.

One of the most memorable times I sang it was ten years ago in the Drum Circle of the Quileute people on the Olympic Peninsula on the Pacific Northwest coast. When I sang it in the Circle, I had no idea that the Quileute are descended from shape-shifting wolves. I also didn’t know that one of the tribal elders had foreseen my coming five days earlier. The chant created quite a stir and my two sons and I were made members of the Drum Circle.

The chant is part of my regular spiritual practice. Working with spirit wolves, it helps to keep me in touch with them. It is a gift to be used by anyone who wants to connect with the spirit of the Wolf. I’ve also always felt that it is a spirit call for wild wolves to be reintroduced into Britain, something I very much hope to see during my lifetime.

The drum I’m playing is the first one I’ve ever made. The hoop or frame is of Ash, the skin is the hide of a red deer from Britain’s oldest deer park, dating back to the 15th century. It was quite a journey making the drum, from felling the tree, through treating the hide to lacing it onto the frame.

The film consists of footage shot at the Avebury henge the other day by my son, Mike, cut with other footage and some stills I shot in and around Avebury myself a few years ago.

Blessings from the Wild Heart,

Greywolf /|\

Celebrating Planet Earth: Part 3

Ammerdown Centre, Somerset

Day Two, February 1st 2014

Saturday Afternoon

Simon Howell

Simon Howell

Our afternoon session was on the theme of Celtic Connections and was opened by Simon Howell, interfaith officer for the diocese of Bath and Wells. Howell is, of course, an honest-to-goodness, proper Celtic name. On first seeing Simon at the conference, my assumption was that he was part of the Pagan group; shaven head, mainly black clothing, great line in cool t-shirts, etc. Indeed, looking at one of the group photos from the event, one Pagan friend commented that, twenty years ago, you could tell the Christians from the Pagans really easily. Simon’s look was explained by his revelation of having been a drummer in various bands. He spoke of holding a drum workshop at Ammerdown with a group consisting of Christians, Jews and Muslims. In a fine tribute to the bardic aspect of our traditions, he said that a transcendent moment of the workshop came at its end when all joined in singing the great pacifist anthem of the anti-Vietnam War protest movement, ‘We Shall Overcome,’ most famously performed on record by the peerless Pete Seeger.

He said that interfaith dialogue often worked through telling each other stories of a Golden Age when the groups involved got on well together. In this context, Simon quoted John Michell, author of The View Over Atlantis and many other works, referring to Druids as setting the scene for the coming of Christianity and as being a sort of spiritual fore-runner to it. He endeared himself to me further by then quoting my old friend, Ronald Hutton, on the same topic, saying that, far from being a time of harmony, the change of faith in Europe was fraught with difficulties, tensions and hostilities, with Roman Christians evincing an extreme dislike for pagans of all flavours. Simon quoted Ronald as describing John Michell as a visionary and romantic, both of which are admirable things to be.

Simon concluded his talk by expressing the widespread opinion, shared by both Pagans and Christians, that the modern age “lacks transcendence,” but that this may be reintroduced into our lives by stories, through which we may be “lifted through the veil and reach the peace of the Otherworld.”

Philip Carr-Gomm

Philip Carr-Gomm

Our second speaker in the afternoon session was another old friend, Philip Carr-Gomm, who began by explaining that interfaith dialogue between Druids and Christians is by no means new, going back at least three centuries. Indeed, many of the founding fathers (and yes, they were all men) of some branches of modern Druidry were Christian ministers. Iolo Morganwg, founder of the Welsh Gorsedd, of which the Queen and former archbishop, Rowan Williams, are members, authored a number of popular Christian hymns. He explained that Iolo’s Druidry represented what might be called a cultural Druidry. He suggested that the Ancient Order of Druids, of which Winston Churchill was a member, represented a similarly cultural rather than spiritual take on Druidry, and one that is essentially Christian.

Ross Nichols, who founded OBOD in 1964, was what Philip called “a questioning Christian,” an ordained deacon of a group called the Ancient Celtic Church. It may surprise many to know that, as Philip went on to say, Nichols’ friend, Gerald Gardner, the father of modern Witchcraft, was also an ordained deacon of the related Ancient British Church.

Philip then asked “Is our conversation an appropriate one to be having?” He quoted the composer, John Taverner, as saying that “the mature religions are dying.” He also asked whether it was appropriate for Pagans to be looking back to the past for inspiration, suggesting that it might be moreso if we were doing it to slough off the accretions of the past and start afresh.

He spoke of aspects of contemporary Christianity that he saw as feeding back into Paganism as well as attempting to work alongside Pagans, suggesting that the two represent distinct and separate paths that can yet be combined. He said that he felt the overlap between Christianity and Druidry in particular was a potentially fertile one, and that the existing overlap could be strengthened through a shared concern for things like growing our own food, reverencing the Earth and celebrating the cycle of the seasons. He added that such collaborations already exist, citing as an example his own regular cooperation with a local vicar in staging celebrations of the eightfold festival cycle on Firle Beacon in Sussex, celebrations that attract both Pagans and Christians.

He then spoke of a group called the Celtic Orthodox Church which consists of Christian Druids who live completely “off the grid” in woodland in Brittany, growing their own food, generating their own power, etc. They are a proper community, ranging in age from infants to OAPs. They are inspired by the example of Saint Francis and “came out” publicly as Druids only last year (2013), following which Philip gave them a talk on the Wheel of the Year. Philip suggested that similar communities might be possible that put Druidry to the foreground but had Christianity in the background, ending his presentation by saying that he now felt we had reached a point at which combining various traditions is possible.

Saturday Evening

Greywolf the BardGreywolf the Bard

And so to dinner, followed by our evening music session, led by Forest Church alumni, Alison Eve and Paul Cudby, whose band is called Eve in the Garden. Ali plays harp, Paul percussion, and they’re augmented by guitar and bass. Their music is a lively blend of traditional folk style with Christian lyrics, though thankfully not of the typical happy-clappy variety. In breaks in their set were the guest slots, one of which I blagged to perform a few of my songs, ‘Song at Wodnesbeorg,’ ‘My Lady of the Greenwood,’ and ‘Lord of the Wildwood.’ The latter includes a wolf chant that came to me about twenty years ago that ends in wild howling. I was pleased to note that both Christians and Pagans were joining in with this enthusiastically.

And so, having been gently, kindly and very charmingly evicted from the bar for being just a wee bit too noisy a wee bit too late, to bed, just in time for …

Day Three: Sunday, February 2nd

On Sunday morning most of us trooped off into the soggy, cold parkland surrounding the Centre for a ritual, again led by Alison and Paul. This reminded me of many Druid ceremonies in that we all had printed service sheets, laminated due to the weather, clutching which we all stood in a cold circle not moving much. I was distracted by the sight of a huge, phallus-like concrete monument rising from a hillside a little way off. I have to admit that every time the word ‘god’ was used in the ceremony I found myself quietly adding an ‘s’. This reminded me again of the fact that I’d have liked to have seen the weekend’s ceremonies jointly composed and conducted by Christians, Druids and Pagans. Something to bear in mind for next time…

Following on from this, our final session was appropriately entitled “Better Together.”

Tess Ward

Tess Ward

Opening this session was Tess Ward, who said that in prayer, “all is one and only love remains,” a statement that immediately endeared her to me. She said that we face a spiritual and environmental crisis, the latter having been responsible for bringing spirituality and environmental concerns back together. Tess was ordained as a Christian minister in 2000 while she was, as she said, “in a literal and metaphorical dark wood.” She spoke of mystical Christianity as representing a way out of the dark wood, adding the telling phrase that “through religion and out the other side is the divine.”

She spoke of female spirituality not being obvious in the established church. She now runs a Pagan women’s circle in Oxford in which she is the only Christian. They meet in the open air with fires, “poetry, silence and Nature.”

She expressed a feeling that “the church needs to die before it can be reborn,” and that one aspect of this had to be facing “the dark shadow” that Christianity has cast over history. She then led the Christians present in speaking a lament regretting the divisions and brokenness of the past, asking forgiveness and help to make good. While this was obviously heartfelt, I couldn’t help but be reminded of a Native American woman who once launched into a tirade of complaints directed at myself and Emma Restall Orr in which she blamed us for every evil Europeans had ever foisted upon her people. While we both share her anger at Europeans’ historical treatment of Native Americans, neither of us felt that we were personally to blame for it.

Tess then spoke of Christ as a source of union. Again, while I can see where this might be true if you look at the recorded actions and sayings of Jesus himself, many of those who have historically presented themselves as his followers have been responsible for fuelling all manner of hatreds, divisions and even genocides.

She spoke of not pushing our own traditions onto others, but working with others towards “a healing and love beyond ourselves,” adding that “the miracle is to walk on the green Earth in the present moment.”

Liz Williams

Liz Williams

Our last speaker was Liz Williams, a Glastonbury-based Druid who runs the town’s Witchcraft Shop, who began by saying that we had to lay aside the myth of ‘The Burning Times’ with its erroneous claim that nine million witches were burnt.

She then made what was, to me at least, the contentious claim that we have no structure for analysing the validity of spiritually-inspired claims. In Druidry, at least as we teach it in the British Druid Order, we make such judgements based on the creative output of our students. Central to our path is the creative spirit we call awen. Students on our bardic course create art based on their connection with awen and the art thus produced gives us a basis on which to judge the strength and quality of their link with awen. OK, art itself is prone to subjective judgements, and yet it is still a basis on which judgement can be made.

Liz went on to say that she feels the idea of humans as “guardians of the Earth” is anthropocentric, egotistical and wrong. She then spoke of our perceptions of various faith groups as being monolithic structures all members of which are in agreement, pointing out that Glastonbury Witches are constantly at odds with each other. She said that “cult behaviour” was rare amongst Pagans due to our largely responsible leaders who we don’t put on pedestals.

On the downside, she spoke of links between some threads of Paganism and far right and nationalist groups, of Pagans damaging and littering sacred sites, of many Pagans having no conception of the Country Code, and of the natural tendency of internet groups to generate rows, a tendency as prevalent amongst Pagans as anyone else.

On the plus side, Liz spoke of an increase in the debate of ethical issues amongst Pagans, particularly those connected with the ways in which we relate to our environment. She spoke of Pagan involvement with actions against badger culls and fracking. She cited the writer, Richard Mabey, as influential in promoting the idea of re-connecting with Nature as a cure for depression.

In the closing round-table session, many points from the various talks were picked up. Simon Howell, for example, shared my problem with the list of past faults Tess Ward had encouraged the Christians in the room to voice, stating simply that “We are not responsible for some of the things on that list.” He also expressed concerns about the speakers who had been critical of the role of scientists in disenchanting Nature, saying that science was fuelled by a sense of wonder and enchantment. Liz Williams said that Pagans find enchantment in Paganism, but also in science fiction and fantasy.

Philip Carr-Gomm asked what people thought of what has been described as the “pick and mix” attitude towards religion. Graham Harvey said that, as a religious scholar, he felt that religion had always been “pick and mix.” Marcus Small differentiated belonging to a particular group from having a sense of kinship with other groups.

Graham Harvey pointed out that not all gods are nice.

We all, I think, felt the need to end on a positive note. When we hear of renewed tensions between opposing Christian factions in Northern Ireland or continuing murder between Jews and Palestinians in the Middle East, it is all too easy to despair of the power of spirituality to better anything, and yet these same things encourage me to thank the gods – all of them – for those who are willing to engage in interfaith dialogues, to look beyond outward appearances that potentially divide us to the fundamental human qualities that can unite us, one of which is an appreciation of the sheer magic of being alive, a magic that, as many of our weekend’s speakers confirmed, is most commonly felt by Christian and Pagan alike in the presence of natural beauty.

In this weekend there were things I would have done differently. Minor matters aside though, it was an enjoyable and interesting few days. It seems likely that more will flow from it. Plans for a book have already been announced. Working groups to address specific joint ventures have been proposed. I would love to see joint ceremonies, perhaps joint pilgrimages, as well as combined approaches to ecological concerns and pacifism flow from these.

No doubt there will be problems and stumbling blocks as we make our way forward. There are people in both Christian and Pagan communities who will despise us for the very act of engaging in dialogue with each other. Personally, I agree with the Druid, Winston Churchill, who maintained that “to jaw jaw is always better than to war war.”

With thanks to all who took part for sharing so much with such intelligence, warmth and good humour, and looking forward to the next time,

Many blessings,

Greywolf /|\

Incidentally, when I first began publishing my thoughts on interfaith dialogue in the mid-90s in Pagan Dawn and elsewhere, a Liverpool-based Pagan group published a leaflet calling me “Archbishop Shallcrass” and accusing me of trying to convert all Pagans to Christianity. While I appreciated the promotion (and would certainly appreciate the regular income and the place in the House of Lords), if I wielded such powers of persuasion, rather than use them to convert everyone to a faith that is not my own, I would use it to encourge all Pagans to sign up for the amazingly wonderful BDO courses. Is that just a shameless excuse to plug our courses again? Of course it is!

Celebrating Planet Earth: A Conversation Between Christians, Druids and Others – 2

Ammerdown Centre, Somerset – February 1st 2014 – Morning, Day Two

Woke up at around 5.15am after little more than two hours sleep. Ah well, fresh filter coffee would be available from about 8am and I could fill in the interim listening to music on headphones and pootling on my little netbook.

The morning’s first session began with our moderator, Denise Cush, introducing its subject, ‘Addressing Our Respective Fears and Prejudices.’

Steve Hollinghurst

Steve Hollinghurst

Steve Hollinghurst of the Church Army’s Research Centre in Sheffield spoke first. As mentioned at the end of my previous post, he admitted to being embarrassed by the ‘Army’ bit as an unfortunate hangover from the days of Empire. He got the day off to a fine start by showing us the Monty Python sketch in which Cardinal Biggles and Cardinal Fang endeavour to ‘torture’ a confession of heresy out of an old lady by prodding her with soft cushions and making her sit in “the comfy chair.” Because, of course, “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.”

 He then spoke of an accusation first levelled against Christians, and then by them against others, that they sacrificed babies born as a result of wild sex orgies known as Lucerna Extincta (‘Lights Out’). This led on to a consideration of the ‘mythic history’ that often divides Pagans and Christians, the latter accusing Pagans of human sacrifice and portraying themselves as a religion of love, light and freedom whilst advising each other to have nothing to do with Pagans because they’re all Satanists.

Meanwhile, modern Pagans have developed their own myths of ancient pagans all being lovely, peaceful, matriarchal ecologists whose idyllic existence was only ruined by those nasty Christians, only it wasn’t because paganism just went underground, only to re-emerge fully formed in the 20th century to bring everyone back to the peaceful era of the Great Mother.

Zeus

Zeus

Exploring the relationships between modern Pagans and Christians, Steve put up a screen image of a modern ceremony that took place in Greece, devoted to the ancient Greek father of the gods, Zeus. Steve then admitted to a personal belief that Christianity went wrong when it hooked up with the Roman state and its military machine. He went on to cite one of the most recent examples of the imposition of Christianity on a Pagan state in Europe, this occurring in Estonia in the 13th century. Here, a state church run entirely by non-Estonians was imposed on the nation from outside, a situation that continued until the mid-1980s and the fall of the Berlin Wall. Following this, there has been a big revival of paganism in Estonia.

Steve then addressed the Biblical creation myth that has given us the notion of mankind being somehow separate from and better than the rest of creation, leading to a skewed relationship with the natural world.

Steve then said, quite rightly, that both Christianity and Paganism are very diverse, homes to a huge variety of both beliefs and practices. Nevertheless, there is a persistent sense of Christianity as exclusivist, maintaining that everyone else is wrong and that only Jesus can save them from their erroneous ways. He added that some more extreme Christians promote the idea that since God is going to destroy the world anyway as part of His Almighty Plan, therefore environmentalism is obviously a Satanic plot! Good grief…

Black Jesus, Rome, 530 CE

Black Jesus, Rome, 530 CE

Another angle taken by some Christians is that the church is all-embracing because everyoneis a Christian really, it’s just that some of us haven’t realised it yet. This is the inclusivist argument, one that Steve admitted is deeply patronising. Then there’s the more agreeable pluralist argument, which maintains that Christianity is just one of many paths, all of which are valid. Then there’s what he characterised as ‘transformist’ Christianity, maintaining that Christianity acts as “good yeast in each culture” where it exists, whilst creating colourful cross-overs with native religions, producing, for example, images of Christ as black, female or Pagan. Then there are what he called Christo-Pagans who, he said, had been accused of ‘dumbing down’ the differences between the two.

 Steve maintained that, despite impressions held to the contrary, Christianity does change with the times, albeit often slowly and against internal opposition.

He then addressed the topic of Evangelism, deriving from words meaning ‘good news,’ which he characterised as an attempt to create the kind of world Evangelists would like to see by a process of divine intervention. He said there is no Pagan theology of salvation driving them out after converts, but that Pagans are very good evangelists precisely, in his opinion, because we are not out on a recruiting drive but are simply and clearly putting forward a vision of a way of being in the world.

 In keeping with the season, he ended by referring to Brighid as a fine example of Interfaith interaction that could be taken either as cultural theft by Christians of Pagan culture, or as a successful blending of the two.

Graham Harvey

Graham Harvey

 Our second speaker was another old friend, Graham Harvey, Reader in Religious Studies at the Open University and author of a number of books on Paganism and Animism. Graham introduced himself by saying that his favourite amongst the various titles he’s obtained over the years is that bestowed on him by the late Archdruid, Tim Sebastion, of “Conscience of the Secular Order of Druids.” This meant that Graham was often the one trying to get the Archdruid out of the pub so as not to be too embarrassingly late for the start of the ceremony he was about to conduct.

 Graham voiced his concern that interfaith dialogues often seemed to him to end up consisting of “people talking past each other.” He took as his primary text a line from William Blake which says that “opposition is true friendship.” He spoke of the prevalence of annoying clichés, admitting that there are both Christians who are more like ancient pagans than many modern Pagans are, as well as modern Pagans who are essentially Protestants.

 Graham suggested that Jesus throwing the money-lenders out of the temple in Jerusalem represented an attack on Judaism and was one of the foundation myths of anti-Semitism, evidence perhaps that Jesus was not quite a paragon misrepresented by later Christians.

 He queried the widespread notion that Paganism is not a religion of revelation, suggesting that many Pagans experience revelations of many kinds and from many sources, whilst Christianity is by no means solely a religion of revelation, but also of family, community, etc. He also questioned the widely-held assumption that all Christians are monotheists while all Pagans are polytheists, pointing out that there are monotheistic Pagans and that Christianity can easily be seen as polytheistic through its reverence of a multitude of saints in much the same way that pagans revere a similar multitude of gods. He said that many Pagans were happy to accept Jesus as one god among many because that’s how polytheism is.94926690-monsanto-pharmers

 He characterised Paganism as “an experiment to rediscover Nature,” adding the observation that “there is more diversity of life in this carpet than there is in a Monsanto-sprayed field.” This he set against the impression of Christianity as a religion primarily focused on the idea of salvation. However, he added that not all Pagans were ‘about’ Nature, but that many held Paganism to be a process of enchantment or re-enchantment, or “a different way from modernity (rather than Christianity) of defining our position in the world of human and non-human beings.” The notion of relating to non-human beings on an equal, or at least more equal, footing is one of increasing interest and concern in modern Paganism and one in which Graham himself is deeply involved. He went on to refer to a tension that exists within Paganism between what he characterised as an internal spiritual quest and the desire to relate animistically with the world.

Bear Tribe Logo

Bear Tribe Logo

 Finally, Graham suggested that both paths might come together in agreeing that our traditions will benefit from greater engagement with the world, an engagement that could also be of great benefit to the planet. He shared with us a beautiful photograph and his personal experience of attending the annual Midwinter gathering of the Bear Tribe at the Ancient Technology Centre in Dorset. The aim of the event is to celebrate and honour all the plants and animals that attendees have eaten during the year. At last year’s event, the clouds parted at the end of the ceremony, revealing an incredible view of the Milky Way arching over the lodge in which the ceremony was held, as captured in Graham’s photograph. Incidentally, this link to the Bear Tribe’s website includes Graham’s ‘Animist Manifesto,’ which is well worth checking out.

 Graham ended with a quote from Ronald Grimes, “Performance is currency in the deep world’s gift economy.” Make of that what you will!

 After coffee, there was a continuation of the debate round table style, only without the table. Much of this focused on evangelism, which many admitted to finding condescending, patronising, or simply annoying, and not just among the Pagans! As always in these events, there is never enough time to fully, or even partly, explore more than a fraction of the potential topics raised by the speakers, and this was a case in point. Graham did make the very telling observation that when we talk about building bridges, those bridges can often have to stretch across yawning gulfs or chasms and that perhaps it would be wise not to forget that simply because we were currently standing on a bridge.

 Many of the discussions that took place over dinner and in the bar picked up various themes and dug further into them. I only wish I had thought to pack a recorder or taken notes during at least some of these informal exchanges. I got the impression that they did at least as much to lessen misunderstandings as the official sessions, and probably more to forge or re-forge friendships.

 And so to lunch, with, of course, a choice of vegetarian or carnivore.

 After lunch, I was surprised to find that we had nearly three hours until the afternoon session with Philip Carr-Gomm (Druid) and Simon Howell (Christian). In the spare hours I ran through the songs I intended to play in the evening concert to see how well I could remember the words, but more of that and of Philip and Simon’s talks on the next blog.

The Three Philips

The Three Philips: Messrs. Carr-Gomm, Shallcrass & Ryder

 Incidentally, much humour stemmed from the fact that there were three heads of Druid groups present, all called Philip, the third being Phil Ryder of the Druid Network, attending with his partner, Lynda, who expressed her delight at being “in the presence of so much Pagan royalty.” This confused some of the Christian delegates who had, of course, never heard of us!

 OK, thank you for bearing with me, and see you next time…