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 Lughnasadh Meditations Here you will find meditations to help you through the Sabbat!! |
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Meditation Like most of the Solar festivals of the year, Lughnasadh has its equivalent in the Christian calendar, which is Lammas. Lammas has nothing to do with lambs. The name is actually derived from "Loaf Mass", the feast to celebrate the first bread baked with the newly harvested grain of the year. It is therefore a harvest festival but, unlike the more familiar autumn harvest festival with its celebration of "all is safely gathered in", Lammastide represents the full ripening of the crop so that it is ready for harvest, the cutting of the first ears and the baking of the first bread. Lughnasadh is the festival of the corn god Lugh. Lugh, who represents the growing crop, must die each year in order for the seed to ripen and so yield the harvest. This tradition of the death of the corn god is perpetuated in a well-known folk song, John Barleycorn. There were three men came out of the West Their fortunes for to try And these three men made a solemn vow John Barleycorn must die. On another occasion, it would be rewarding to consider the kabbalistic significance of why there were three men, or why they should be coming from the West, but for now consider the other aspects of the song; it is really quite graphically bloodthirsty. John Barleycorn is cut off at the knee with scythes, then thrashed about the head with sticks, and his remains are ploughed into the ground. In the penultimate verse, we are left in no doubt: These three men made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn was dead. In times past, it was a tradition to make a loaf in the shape of a man, which was then dismembered and eaten as part of the Loaf Mass celebrations. This, indeed, may be the origin of our teatime delicacy, the gingerbread man. It is tempting to see echoes of ancient human sacrifice, but that is not really what this time is all about. The god does not really die, he continues in the form of next year's growth, he continues in the form of the food and drink he provides for people's sustenance against the coming winter. So who (or what) is it, that is being killed? What is being killed is the child, to make room for the man. The period of growth is ended and it is time for the completion of a purpose. This must happen in all our lives. At one level, we must always remain children, for we never stop learning, we never stop growing. But at another level, we reach a plateau in our development, we step over into a new phase of existence. In our late teens or early twenties we reach a stage of development of our physical bodies that we call adult. With our new status we acquire certain responsibilities: there are certain aspects, freedoms and liberties, of our childhood that we must lay aside forever so that we may properly fulfil our new role. So in later life, we reach a state of mental and spiritual growth where we may stop growing for a while and start to make more use of our more developed faculties, for the benefit of others. This is not merely a right, but it is a duty, a responsibility. What is all your knowledge and spiritual insight for, if it is not to be used? Thus, for example, one of us teach. Another may heal. Someone else may be a writer, or an artist, and so on. Some of you may still be looking for your path, not yet quite certain of the way to go on your spiritual journey. This particular time of year, Lammastide, is a good time to be looking for those answers. If you already have the answers, then it is time to put them fully into action. Because Lammas is the time of maturity, of completion of growth, of the final step towards attainment of purpose, it is an ideal time for completion of projects. Also, like the other major festivals of the old pagan calendar, it is considered to be a time when the veil between our world and the other worlds, the worlds of the spirit, is particularly thin, it especially benefits those projects that are spiritual in nature. This particular meditation takes the form of a visualisation exercise. You may have done visualisation exercises before, with the object of bringing about a certain state of events, perhaps to help someone in difficulties or maybe to sort something out in your own lives. This kind of visualisation is usually concerned with the early stages of a project, with getting something off the ground, to a point where you can consciously take over and continue the good work by your own efforts, without the help of outside forces. Then, eventually, your project reaches a state of maturity and you can, indeed must, take on full responsibility for it, just as you take on responsibility for your life when you reach adulthood. But sometimes bringing a project to its intended conclusion can be as difficult as initiating it in the first place. It is not unreasonable for us to request help from higher forces. If the project is worthy, help will be granted. But, you have to ask. So, do you have a project that is about to come to fruition, which maybe needs a little final push to get it there? Or, if you are still seeking a direction, is it time that the direction became clear to you? These things are what we will seek to put in hand today, by means of our visualisation. Lughnasadh: Prepare yourself for meditation in the usual way. Sit comfortably and relaxed. Close your eyes. Take a few deep breaths to cleanse your body and mind of everyday cares and concerns. Visualise yourself in the countryside, on a warm summer afternoon, surveying a field of ripe, golden wheat. Think about how it will shortly be harvested and baked into delicious fresh bread. Enjoy the beauty of the moment. Now turn your thoughts to your project, or your question. Form it clearly in your mind, with every detail of where you stand at the moment, and of how you came to be where you are. Make sure you have every detail of your situation clear in your mind. Now visualise a successful outcome. What is necessary to complete your project, or to give a satisfactory answer to your question? Let this, too, form clearly in your mind. Now, quickly dismiss the pictures you have formed in your mind into the ether, and return to normal consciousness. Your petition will be dealt with. Do not think any further about your project or your question for a little while, perhaps a few days, and then the answer or the resolution will come to you. Now is an appropriate time to take a little refreshment, something to eat and drink. Take a biscuit, or a cookie, or a piece of bread, and break it. As you do so, think of those people in the past, who would celebrate with the eating of new bread, the coming of the first harvest. Feel close to them, and feel close to the time of year, the time of coming to fruition. Then eat in silence, and sip the drink. Take a few hours, or a few days, to absorb the significance of this meditation. If you wish, you may repeat the meditation several times during the period around the Festival concerned. |
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Meditation ~author unknown Like most of the Solar festivals of the year, Lughnasadh has its equivalent in the Christian calendar, which is Lammas. Lammas has nothing to do with lambs. The name is actually derived from "Loaf Mass", the feast to celebrate the first bread baked with the newly harvested grain of the year. It is therefore a harvest festival but, unlike the more familiar autumn harvest festival with its celebration of "all is safely gathered in", Lammastide represents the full ripening of the crop so that it is ready for harvest, the cutting of the first ears and the baking of the first bread. Lughnasadh is the festival of the corn god Lugh. Lugh, who represents the growing crop, must die each year in order for the seed to ripen and so yield the harvest. This tradition of the death of the corn god is perpetuated in a well-known folk song, John Barleycorn. There were three men came out of the West Their fortunes for to try And these three men made a solemn vow John Barleycorn must die. On another occasion, it would be rewarding to consider the kabbalistic significance of why there were three men, or why they should be coming from the West, but for now consider the other aspects of the song; it is really quite graphically bloodthirsty. John Barleycorn is cut off at the knee with scythes, then thrashed about the head with sticks, and his remains are ploughed into the ground. In the penultimate verse, we are left in no doubt: These three men made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn was dead. In times past, it was a tradition to make a loaf in the shape of a man, which was then dismembered and eaten as part of the Loaf Mass celebrations. This, indeed, may be the origin of our teatime delicacy, the gingerbread man. It is tempting to see echoes of ancient human sacrifice, but that is not really what this time is all about. The god does not really die, he continues in the form of next year's growth, he continues in the form of the food and drink he provides for people's sustenance against the coming winter. So who (or what) is it, that is being killed? What is being killed is the child, to make room for the man. The period of growth is ended and it is time for the completion of a purpose. This must happen in all our lives. At one level, we must always remain children, for we never stop learning, we never stop growing. But at another level, we reach a plateau in our development, we step over into a new phase of existence. In our late teens or early twenties we reach a stage of development of our physical bodies that we call adult. With our new status we acquire certain responsibilities: there are certain aspects, freedoms and liberties, of our childhood that we must lay aside forever so that we may properly fulfil our new role. So in later life, we reach a state of mental and spiritual growth where we may stop growing for a while and start to make more use of our more developed faculties, for the benefit of others. This is not merely a right, but it is a duty, a responsibility. What is all your knowledge and spiritual insight for, if it is not to be used? Thus, for example, one of us teach. Another may heal. Someone else may be a writer, or an artist, and so on. Some of you may still be looking for your path, not yet quite certain of the way to go on your spiritual journey. This particular time of year, Lammastide, is a good time to be looking for those answers. If you already have the answers, then it is time to put them fully into action. Because Lammas is the time of maturity, of completion of growth, of the final step towards attainment of purpose, it is an ideal time for completion of projects. Also, like the other major festivals of the old pagan calendar, it is considered to be a time when the veil between our world and the other worlds, the worlds of the spirit, is particularly thin, it especially benefits those projects that are spiritual in nature. This particular meditation takes the form of a visualisation exercise. You may have done visualisation exercises before, with the object of bringing about a certain state of events, perhaps to help someone in difficulties or maybe to sort something out in your own lives. This kind of visualisation is usually concerned with the early stages of a project, with getting something off the ground, to a point where you can consciously take over and continue the good work by your own efforts, without the help of outside forces. Then, eventually, your project reaches a state of maturity and you can, indeed must, take on full responsibility for it, just as you take on responsibility for your life when you reach adulthood. But sometimes bringing a project to its intended conclusion can be as difficult as initiating it in the first place. It is not unreasonable for us to request help from higher forces. If the project is worthy, help will be granted. But, you have to ask. So, do you have a project that is about to come to fruition, which maybe needs a little final push to get it there? Or, if you are still seeking a direction, is it time that the direction became clear to you? These things are what we will seek to put in hand today, by means of our visualisation. Lughnasadh: Prepare yourself for meditation in the usual way. Sit comfortably and relaxed. Close your eyes. Take a few deep breaths to cleanse your body and mind of everyday cares and concerns. Visualise yourself in the countryside, on a warm summer afternoon, surveying a field of ripe, golden wheat. Think about how it will shortly be harvested and baked into delicious fresh bread. Enjoy the beauty of the moment. Now turn your thoughts to your project, or your question. Form it clearly in your mind, with every detail of where you stand at the moment, and of how you came to be where you are. Make sure you have every detail of your situation clear in your mind. Now visualise a successful outcome. What is necessary to complete your project, or to give a satisfactory answer to your question? Let this, too, form clearly in your mind. Now, quickly dismiss the pictures you have formed in your mind into the ether, and return to normal consciousness. Your petition will be dealt with. Do not think any further about your project or your question for a little while, perhaps a few days, and then the answer or the resolution will come to you. Now is an appropriate time to take a little refreshment, something to eat and drink. Take a biscuit, or a cookie, or a piece of bread, and break it. As you do so, think of those people in the past, who would celebrate with the eating of new bread, the coming of the first harvest. Feel close to them, and feel close to the time of year, the time of coming to fruition. Then eat in silence, and sip the drink. Take a few hours, or a few days, to absorb the significance of this meditation. If you wish, you may repeat the meditation several times during the period around the Festival concerned. |
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Lughnasadh: Prepare yourself for meditation in the usual way. Sit comfortably and relaxed. Close your eyes. Take a few deep breaths to cleanse your body and mind of everyday cares and concerns. Visualise yourself in the countryside, on a warm summer afternoon, surveying a field of ripe, golden wheat. Think about how it will shortly be harvested and baked into delicious fresh bread. Enjoy the beauty of the moment. Now turn your thoughts to your project, or your question. Form it clearly in your mind, with every detail of where you stand at the moment, and of how you came to be where you are. Make sure you have every detail of your situation clear in your mind. Now visualise a successful outcome. What is necessary to complete your project, or to give a satisfactory answer to your question? Let this, too, form clearly in your mind. Now, quickly dismiss the pictures you have formed in your mind into the ether, and return to normal consciousness. Your petition will be dealt with. Do not think any further about your project or your question for a little while, perhaps a few days, and then the answer or the resolution will come to you. Now is an appropriate time to take a little refreshment, something to eat and drink. Take a biscuit, or a cookie, or a piece of bread, and break it. As you do so, think of those people in the past, who would celebrate with the eating of new bread, the coming of the first harvest. Feel close to them, and feel close to the time of year, the time of coming to fruition. Then eat in silence, and sip the drink. Take a few hours, or a few days, to absorb the significance of this meditation. If you wish, you may repeat the meditation several times during the period around the Festival concerned. |
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A Meditation for Lughnasadh In the season of John Barleycorn, the heat hangs heavy in the air as you enter into the clearing... This is the season of John Barleycorn, the European God of the grain. Grain is a staple of life in many cultures, and their religions reflect this reality. Rites that celebrate the transformations of the grain, from planting to harvest, are at the heart of many festival cycles. One recurring theme in such rites portrays the essence of the God being absorbed into the grain. He is then cut down, a harvest sacrifice for the good of the tribe. In His rebirth each spring, we see the continuity of the cycle and the renewal of life. The heat hangs heavy in the air as you enter into the clearing. It is accented by the loud humming of June beetles and the buzz of bees. There is hardly any breeze. A brook is beside you. The flowing waters of the brook look appealing. You think about removing your clothes and jumping in, but then you hear the sound of pipes in the fields on the other side of the brook. You’re curious about what’s happening, and go to find out. You cross the brook using stepping-stones and make your way up the gentle slope. There is a fence around the pasture. You find the gate, open it, and enter the field. The hay smells sweet and strong. The crickets are chirping. They hop out of your way as you walk through the tall grass. The grass tickles your hands and rubs against your legs as you make your way through it. A hare scampers and hides, camouflaged among the browns and greens. You reach the garden that was planted last spring. You remember the planting rites and notice that the vegetables are full and lush. You reach out and part the large, rough leaves of a zucchini plant to see the shiny green fruit hidden beneath them. The cornstalks are tall—almost as tall as you. Nubs of young ears line their surface. The tomatoes are not quite ripe, but the peas and beans can be picked. You snap off one of the pea pods and break it in half. The fresh green scent is released. You place the peas in your mouth and savor their sweet taste. You walk through the garden admiring the growth. The musical sound that beckoned to you is coming from the other side of the hill. With the excitement of discovery, you walk on. As you reach the top of the hill and look down, you see stretched out before you an ocean of yellow grain. A gentle breeze comes through. The shafts sway lightly in the wind, creating a wave of wheat. Below you is a couple sitting by a hedgerow. They both appear to be of early middle age. She has the wide hips and breasts of motherhood; He, a thick yellow growth of beard on His chin. He is playing His pipes for Her, a wistful, plaintive lament. You watch as He finishes His song. They stand and embrace. It does not appear to be a sad scene, yet you feel a sense of sweet parting. They release their lovers�?embrace. She gently smiles, touching His fuzzy cheek. You hear Her call Him “John.�?He throws His head back and laughs at some private joke shared between them. The sound echoes through the field. He then kisses Her good-bye and walks into the field of grain. His fingers lightly play along the tops of the sheaves as He makes His way deeper and deeper into the tall growth. He wades until He stands in the center of the field. He is completely surrounded by grain. His outstretched palms lie lightly on the heads of the seeds. He looks over to where the Lady stands. As She waves to Him, he smiles and slowly starts to expand, become translucent, and fade from sight. His essence is pouring into the grain all around Him until all that is left is the grain. A breeze ripples the wheat, reflecting the sun in a wave of golden hues. When you look back to the Lady, She too has gone. The silence is soon replaced with excited, happy voices. People—men, women, and children—are coming over the hill, carrying baskets and harvesting equipment. They begin the harvest, singing joyful songs. You can smell the fresh hay as it lands on the ground to be raked into mounds. You are handed a tool, a rake, or a scythe. The wooden surface is smooth from years of use. You take it and help with the harvest. (Pause long enough for the task.) It takes time for all the sheaves to be cut and bound, but finally, you stand up and stretch. Your muscles may be sore, but you feel satisfied with the work you’ve accomplished. You look around the field. It appears that the grain has all been cut. Then you notice one spot. One small sheaf still stands, waving in the wind. A young girl emerges from the crowd, carrying a small sickle. Calls of encouragement follow her into the field. She approaches the sheaf and shyly cuts it. A cheer rings out. She gathers the fallen grain and returns to her mother. Together, they quickly fashion a small doll from it, holding it up to the crowd, which responds with more cheers and song. While the merriment continues, the young girl uncovers a basket filled with freshly baked bread. Its rich scent makes your mouth water. A keg of cold ale is brought up from the stream and opened. Each person walks past the mother and daughter, taking a piece of cut bread from the basket and a glass of cold brewed and fermented grain. Both are symbols of the Earth’s and John Barleycorn’s sacrifice for the good of the people. The young girl smiles up at you as she hands you your piece of bread. It feels warm in your hands. You realize the bread contains the essence of the Earth and sun and of the God. You give thanks as you bite into it, tasting the love that it holds. Enjoy your glass of ale and your bread, the fruits of your work and gifts from the Gods. (pause) The sun is beginning to set. The harvesters are getting ready to leave for the day. They wave good-bye to you as they, and you, begin to make your way home. You walk up the slope, through the green garden, and back into the pasture. Find the gate and close it tight behind you. Before you is the stream with its crossing stones. You lightly jump from one to the other, back into the clearing, and return to your inner home. |
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