In The Hands Of The Goddess

Ireland is a land of internal contrasts. Although the two past presidents were women, the country has only recently legalized divorce. It is a place where worldwide events of considerable magnitude are happening, but the story of whether a 13-year-old ward of the state that had been raped should be allowed an abortion can retain headline prominence for weeks. It is a place where women generally don't make the family decisions and must still struggle for equality. Ireland is a place where in spite of the stronghold of the Church, the Goddess is thriving everywhere just below the surface.

Ireland is a collage of many impressions: webs of small towns and stone fences, intertwining counties, beautifully set tables, rain, fog, salty meats, and a culture with an insatiable affinity for greeting cards and chocolates. Kids are just as likely to be playing with computers as yo-yos. It's where sheep rustling is discussed on the radio, washing machines are also dryers, streets are too narrow, and there are probably more bed and breakfast establishments per square mile than in any other country. Eire is a country subjugated by England and never really allowed to reach it's full potential or gain great wealth, yet credited with saving civilization. Along with Celts, fairies, monastic settlements and druids, these are all images of Ireland, and we invite you to see its reflection through our mirror. Join us on our odyssey of Ireland, but the tale of this trip began even before we ever left home.

PROLOGUE

As I sat in the Los Angeles airport, I was finally able to relax and breathe a sigh of relief. I awaited our flight to Ireland, the Fairy Isle, home of the Fellowship of Isis at Clonegal Castle where I'd be ordained in less than 10 days and where I would name my path: Emissary of the Goddess, Priestess of Sacred Geography. Over the boarding calls and chaos of airport traffic, my mind wandered, and I reflected over the last five days.

Before I could depart for the Land of Brigid, I had to finalize the details of my group that was leaving within the month on their Goddess pilgrimage to the land of Egypt. They would be cruising down the Nile as did Cleopatra, doing past life regressions in the Great Pyramid, paying tribute to our patroness Goddess, Isis, at her sacred temple of Philae, and discovering the healing niches in Sakkara; it was the same trip I made a few years ago. The sights and sounds of that ancient land still enchant me, and the results of the candle spell I'd done for the Egypt trip were returning to haunt me.

Though we already had 10 travelers for our Egypt pilgrimage, the prior week two women from Washington called and seemed very interested in joining us, but in the confusion of the moment, I didn't get their telephone number. When I did my candle spell for the trip, I prayed to Isis, Bast and Anubis. I asked Isis to oversee the success and spiritual fulfillment of this pilgrimage. From Bast, who loved merriment and Her festivals, I asked blessings for the group's enjoyment. From Anubis, who had once protected and guided Isis in Her search for Her beloved Osirus, I asked for protection and guidance. I even prayed for the girls from Washington, that they would be guided back to me in time to make the trip, if it was their destiny.

Well, the taper candle dripped many "signs of obstacles" and the votive candle's holder cracked, leaving me to wonder what was in store for our group's journey. This was one time I hoped my divining was not accurate!

As early as the next day, the obstacles began to show themselves. The group had had reservations on Olympic Airlines for over a year but in typical Greek fashion, the airline changed its mind and decided to give our seats to a Greek orchestra traveling to Cairo for a holiday performance. All the members of the orchestra wanted a seat for themselves and a seat for their respective instruments that meant our group had no seats! Panic stricken, I started calling on all my resources and finally found comparable seats with better connections; a major stumbling block was averted. But there had been more than one drip on that taper candle, so I waited.

A few more days went by. Then, just hours before I was to depart for Ireland, the women from Washington actually called and wanted to sign-on for the Egypt journey! Elated, I hurriedly made all their arrangements. Surely it was by the grace of the Goddess that they called before it was too late! Then, as if to hammer home a recently recurring point, I picked up my mail en route to the airport and I got a long-awaited confirmation from the Sisters of Brigid, who keep Her eternal flame, that they would see me in Killdeer. The lesson: the Goddess was on "pagan time"! Well, not exactly. Instead, I believed this to be the first lesson of the next two weeks. I needed to learn to trust in the Goddess to do what was best and in Her own time. Quite a hard lesson for a Virgo that loves smooth efficiency and control and who hates last minute madness! Days before, the Egypt trip leader, an elder priestess, tried to tell me the same thing but her words met my deaf ears. I chided her that maybe the Goddess helps those that help themselves! =In spite of all these good developments, there were still many drips to account for from that candle spell, but as I settled in my seat bound for Ireland, I felt giddy with satisfaction and delight with the worry of the mundane melting away. I switched gears to "mystical mode" and all around me were signs and symbols, beginning with my last glimpse of our Boeing 747 bound for the Emerald Isle.

Our Virgin Atlantic plane, emblazoned with the name Ladybird, was red, white, and black. On the nose of the plane was a female figure with red hair displayed prominently in the posture of a fairy, bearing flags that resembled wings. Even the flight crew all wore the three colors of the Goddess. I chuckled as I thought I was safely tucked away in this plane, like the womb of the Mother, for our transatlantic flight and smooth sailing ahead.

THE MAGIC OF THE LAND

After only two days in Ireland, the magickal land was weaving its spell. Everything I'd heard about this sacred place seemed to be true. The essence of the landscape was strong, and it was having a profound effect on me. I felt I was thinking more like a priestess, and I liked it! How glad I was I'd decided to follow my heart and be ordained here. Jet-lagged, I lay awake at 1AM wishing for sleep, and my thoughts kept turning to the Goddess and what I hoped to feel, see and do here in Her magickal land. I had the overwhelming desire to do ritual like never before, to talk to Her and connect. I thought She was calling me. I lay there planning two rituals. The first I'd begin as soon as we would depart for the day: a blessing for our safety and guidance on the day's path. So at 5AM outside our bed-and-breakfast, with neither the sun's rays or any other living human in sight, I saged our little red car which I fondly thought of as our motorized womb of the Mother. I purified the car with the words "purified within and purified without". Then I took my sistrum and shook it as I encircled the car. I ended the blessing by drawing an invisible pentagram and spirals on the hood as I gave what would become the daily "rite of the car blessing".

Beloved Goddess and Anubis, Great Protector and Guide, bless this car and all within from any harm or foul play. May our journey be safe and filled with delight. May we find our way easily and make wonderful discoveries.

I thought that should surely help with this new driving-on-the-left-side-of-the-road thing!

LOUGH GUR

We traveled toward Lough Gur, a lakeside, ancient, Neolithic settlement which had been an important religious site associated with the Goddess Aine, arriving there before sunrise. Archaeologists have found a treasure trove of artifacts at the bottom of the lake during modern-day excavations. The area was scattered with wedge graves and burial mounds and seemed to emanate a power. Perhaps it was just the darkness, but I think not. It felt like more than that, as if there was some presence here, and possibly it was our timing. It was a full moon and two days shy of the date the ancient Samhain rituals were held here.

We waited for the sun to come up and were rewarded for our patience. We were delighted to see that a pair of white swans made the lake their home. They glided along the water proudly, sharing the morning sun, totally oblivious of us watching them. They were a grand sight. No wonder Celtic artists were inspired to work swans into their metalwork designs. The magnificence of nature was unfolding before my city-girl eyes. A flock of ducks that had been happily bathing on the lake suddenly began to take flight and what a noise they made! The sound of their beating wings was an eerie one, vibrating on the water and sounding like a flock of erratic heartbeats. Being there totally alone to absorb the sights and sounds of the morning was a pleasant experience indeed.

Another site at Lough Gur, located in a local farmer's field, is one of the largest stone circles in Ireland. The largest stone within the circle is called the Goddess Stone because of the artifacts and items of devotion often found buried at its base. Unfortunately, it was very muddy and slightly over-run by cows belonging to the farmer across the road; he had been watching us. I decided not to make my intended offering under his watchful eyes but as we were leaving, he came over and offered me a gift: an aerial photo of the stone circle. This was the first of our many interactions with farmers who proved to be some of the friendliest folks in Eire. Receiving this photo was wonderful because I could not get all of the stones in the circle in my camera lens. He confided in me that he planned to convert his barn across the road into a refreshment stand to quench the thirst of those coming to see the Grange Stone Circle. I thought it would be nice to be able to have some tea as you sat there contemplating the ancients who worshipped the Goddess here in the past. How I wished I was here with my sisters! I imagined the joy we would have dancing within the stones, chanting that wonderful Selena Fox chant, "We are an old people. We are a new people. We are the same people. Stronger than before".

SHEELA-NA-GIGS

Some historians believe the Sheela-na-gigs are a mystery. The Catholic Church position is that these distorted images of women carved on buildings around the 13th century are grotesque and showing the world their vulvas to serve as a reminder to beware of the sin and temptation of lust. Others thought they protected those within the building from the "evil eye". I believe most pagans recognize the Sheela as a Goddess figure and being inside the building she is carved upon is symbolic to being safe within the womb of the Goddess. We obviously resonated with the latter hypothesis and we began a treasure hunt for Sheelas. Our first stop was the Rock of Cashel.

Normally Christian sites held little appeal for us other than knowing their monuments were usually standing over an even more ancient pagan site. We almost passed up the Rock of Cashel due to the normally huge tourist appeal of this hilltop fortress, but I'm glad we went anyway. We found not one, but two Sheelas. The first was in the museum building and shaped differently than most. This Sheela had legs entwined rather than spread wide. Women had almost worn away Her eyes on the plaque, touching her in hopes the Goddess would bestow upon them the blessing of fertility.

The second Sheela was not listed in our reference book and the surprise of finding her was cause for jubilation! We felt as if we'd discovered her! She was on the back wall of the museum building. The stone she was carved on was placed in the framework of the building sideways. Her image was typical of Sheela design and the carving, placed high and out of reach, still retained much of its detail. Many of the Sheela images were hard to discern from weathering or rubbing but not "our Sheela".

At Holycross Abbey, as we tried to find the Sheela reported to be there, we had a revealing conversation with the abbey caretaker, whose knowledge of Sheelas is still somewhat in question. The caretaker offered his seemingly very Catholic opinion about his doubt of Her presence at Holycross due to the "inappropriateness of such images" on a Church. Well, we began to think perhaps the Sheela in this structure may have actually met the fate of so many others and was removed or defaced. The only possible image at Holycross that may have been a Sheela was an image that was missing her lower extremities.

To end our day, we attended a Medieval Banquet at Bunratty Castle and gained access to the Great Hall where we were able to finally touch the Sheela there. We asked for Her blessing for the fertility of our health, happiness, and finances, but we made it clear - no babies please!

As we continued our search for known Sheelas in the days ahead, our travels took us over lush, green, rolling hills littered with the ruins of ancient stone forts, wedge graves, and stone circles Among the herds of sheep, cows, and horses they stood as sentinels in the fields or sometimes traveled solo down the narrow rural roads. The past and present intermingled in a rich harmony for the senses.

Another observation was that of the countenance of the farmers. Their lively banter continued to be friendly sources of information and directions. This was in direct contrast to the forlorn faces of those in the city of Dublin. Perhaps the farmers daily connection with Mother Earth as they worked the land gave them some inner contentment and satisfaction city dwellers found harder to achieve. With our stressful city lives, are disconnected from the land and natural rhythms of nature, so we have to work that much harder to achieve something akin to the farmer's natural demeanor.

Clonmacois, another ancient monastic settlement located adjacent the River Shannon, was home to the smallest Sheela, shown with her thighs embracing her head which could be found on the inner arch of the Nunnery which was set apart from the main buildings of the settlement. It was from the altar in this nunnery that a Viking priestess served as an Oracle to the Goddess.

Another interesting site approximately 100 yards outside the entrance of Clonmacois, just off the road in a field, was what appeared to be a present-day pagan Goddess shrine. It consisted of a spirit tree whose trunk was naturally hollowed out on one side with some tree roots exposed at a submerged area at the base creating a contorted shape. The submerged area at the base of the tree met what appeared to be the end of an old ditch or spring that was now dried out. There were clooties on the tree and on three sides were small headstone-like shapes which depicted goddess-like images, each about 2 feet high. It seemed this spot was used often and recently and the feminine energy was inspiring!

Our quest for Sheelas ended at the ruined 14th century church at Kilnaboy when we viewed the famous Goddess over the door of the church entrance. Quite weathered, she was still clearly a Sheela, though her reported ghoulish facial features had been worn smooth by the elements. A cluster of black crows nested in the archway and seemed to stand watch over this ruined, yet picturesque shrine.

SACRED WELL OF BRIGID

The outer garden of the sacred well at Liscanor on the western side of Ireland, near the Cliffs of Moher, provided a perimeter for the two Catholic statues of Brigid. To the rear was an alcove of sorts with a stream of water flowing down a wall collecting in a pool at the base. Littered within the alcove were Christian offerings, icons, and some pagan offerings as well: the reed cross of the Goddess Brigid and clooties attached to the foliage growing near the stream. Clooties are pieces of cloth left at sacred wells to represent petitions the devotee requests of the Goddess.

Here we gathered well water for sisters back home. We burned a candle and incense as I made my offering to Her and asked my petition be granted with my own clootie which I pinned there with the others in the alcove. Before leaving, I placed a stone token in a crack in the wall of the well inscribed with words of devotion as evidence that devotees of the Goddess are still alive and well and making sacred pilgrimages as in ancient days.

Hags Head, the southernmost outcrop of the Cliffs of Moher, is named for the shape of this cliff resembling a profile of the crone emerging from the ocean and is associated with Mal, an early Celtic Goddess. While I was standing there on the cliffs it seemed She spoke. Her voice was like an amazing echo that she created from the crashing waves and harsh winds moving in and out of the caves and cliffs at this ruggedly beautiful and haunting Cliffside overlook. The sound gave me goosebumps. In my mind She was serenading all her children, telling us of her presence and power as she enveloped us in her windy embrace. Despite the chilling cold wind I felt strangely warm and loved as if we shared a secret intimacy with Her.

Our home for the next few nights was the untouched rural solitude of Connemara. Minutes after arriving there, I felt inspired to do magic! It would be here I would make my offerings to the Fairy God, Gobe, and consecrate my ordination tools. The connection to the earth and elements was strong. The setting was perfect! There were sheep on the lawn, a stream at the back of the house, and the wind howling all night like a banshee outside our cottage. The mountain man who met us with our key flavored the atmosphere with his homespun colloquiums, though I'm sure he thought we were just helpless city folk by our questions about how to operate their very unusual appliances. One of his expressions I liked best was his response when I inquired how long the coin operated oil heater would run on a 50 pence coin. His apt reply was, "How long is a piece of string?" As he was leaving he told us to be sure to return our fireplace ashes to the earth. I'm sure he was a kindred soul.

CLONFERT CATHEDRAL

Clonfert Cathedral is located very near the River Shannon, and is named for the Goddess Sinaan; it was a "must see" for us. Our research showed that on the 15th century arch within the church was a carving of a mermaid holding a mirror and a Sheela-na-gig. When we arrived, the cathedral was closed to the public and we had to contact the local priest to gain entrance. The Reverend turned out to be a sympathetic fount of information. As we toured the old church dedicated to St. Brendan, the Sheela was nowhere to be found, but he explained the Church believed the mermaid symbolized one of the many creatures St. Brendan saw on his sea voyages. We kept our theories about the meaning of the mermaid to ourselves, but did reveal we were writing an article that would be submitted to some pagan magazines. He quickly took my meaning and brought us out to the ancient chestnut tree outside the stone walls of the church and recalled the tale associated with this tree, which was adorned with clooties from local petitioners. Not only were there pieces of cloth attached to the tree, but plastic rosaries, pictures of icons, and even football cards of Irish rugby teams, apparently from some devoted fan hoping for his team to win some coveted championship.

According to legend, this tree, or more likely its ancestor, protected a 14th century statue of the Blessed Virgin from Cromwell's armies. It was safely tucked in the "v" which was formed from the two opposing main branches. The statue is now on display at nearby Our Lady of Clonfert Church, behind a Plexiglas case to protect it from the devotees who have tried to touch her over the years and have caused the statue to deteriorate. One could speculate that this Lady is a veiled goddess and surely the tree is still used as a pagan shrine, as is the ewe walk nearby. The Reverend mentioned that in the summertime he often finds mysterious skulls of animals within the branches of the cathedral-like ewe trees he suspects are either left there as pranks or come from some ritual of the local villagers.

Well, the other shoe finally dropped. The candle drippings were revealing themselves in the worst way. My world began to crumble into dark despair as I tuned into CNN International News to hear about the 65 tourists shot and stabbed by terrorists in Luxor.

I hurriedly got in touch with my tour operator to find that my group was falling apart. The women from Washington had canceled, as did another couple, which adversely affected our group's situation.

Facing the very real possibility that a year's worth of work was quickly spiraling down the drain, I didn't wake any morning or go to sleep any night without nagging worry about the outcome. I was discouraged, depressed, and bitter as days passed and I helplessly waited to see how things would settle. The rain and cold only seemed to intensify my plummeting spirits, and my Ordination was tomorrow. I felt very conflicted. I was mad at the Goddess, as irrational and self-centered as that sounds! These were not the feelings I wanted to carry into this special ceremony. Could or should I even go through with the Ordination?

I opened my eyes swollen from last night's tears to bright sunshine cutting a swath through our bedroom window. This was the most sun I'd seen in the week we'd been in Ireland, but by itself it was not bright enough to burn away the worry in my troubled heart. As I went down to breakfast, trying to decide if I could face the day and go through with the Ordination or leave and go on to Dublin, circumstances began to take on a life of their own.

Birdie, the lady who ran the B&B, and who I'd only met yesterday, came and sat with us over breakfast. She confided that business was bad, their grain crop was poor this year, and no one came there anymore just to get away from work and enjoy some quality time in the country. Somehow sharing our mutual woes made me feel better. We all have setbacks. It's what we do about them that's important. So simple, yet so profound. Birdie helped me talk away my anger and disappointment and look at the big picture. About this time, the phone rang and it was Lady Olivia. She was calling to tell me to come to the Castle early so she could show me the secret passage their recent renovation had uncovered and how she and the clergy were looking forward to meeting me. Well, the decision was being made for me. I was reminded of the ancient proverb, "When the student is ready, the teacher will come." Birdie and Lady Olivia appeared when I needed guidance. I felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders. I actually was able to release the worry. What would be, would be. And I faced the afternoon ceremony with a lightened heart.

CLONEGAL CASTLE

As we parked our car at the castle gate, we were greeted by a most beautiful white cat with blue eyes. She did not seem afraid of the car in the least. She came and jumped right into the vehicle, purring intensely. Her spirit had a nurturing and healing effect on me. I held her in my arms, thinking of my own lovely feline treasures, Isis and Xena, who I was missing terribly since we'd been away. This spirited one turned my thoughts to Bast. As Bast was one of the three Goddesses to whom I was being dedicated this day, I thought surely this was a good sign and I felt that a no more fitting welcome could have been arranged. This "white goddess" was so warm and friendly, it was hard to put her down, but as Lady Olivia came out to greet us, I reluctantly bid this beauty thanks and farewell.

Lady Olivia gave me the grand tour, and I took photos of the Temple to show my sisters back home. Before long, the Irish clergy and other participants in today's ritual began arriving, so I donned my ordination robe and started to get nervous. Rituals with Lady Olivia were very impromptu as Pat, one of the head priestesses could attest. Pat had a kind face and I felt I instantly liked her. She told me she usually had no idea what to expect either, so her advice was to just roll with it. Somehow that was reassuring. This "trusting" issue seemed to keep repeating itself. You'd have thought by now, I'd have learned my lesson!

Lady Olivia sounded the gong from within the temple and our group proceeded down to the sacred temple. The ritual started with libations to the Goddess, and Pat and Lady Olivia blessed each of us with water from the sacred well within the temple that we might receive true vision and healing.

The central part of the temple is enclosed within a perimeter of stone where a sphinx marks the space between the clergy and the participants; my ordination began at the foot of the Isis altar.

Lady Olivia, eighty years young and an inspiration to us all, seemed to take some mischievous pleasure at taking Roy off guard and drawing him into the ceremony as she asked me in a chuckled whisper if I had any idea what he would say. Her air of mischief was contagious and I confided I hadn't a clue what to expect though I did enjoy his look of shock and my feeling a part of the plot!

Clergy — We do.

Lady Olivia, taking my crown and wand made with insignias of Isis and Bast and the stole in the colors of the mother and crone, began to present them to me.

Lady Olivia then took several items from the altar to offer me as symbolic gifts of the Goddess and anointed my head, heart, and hands with oil. She offered me a flame for passion in my work and marriage, a stone so that I would see life in all living things, and a scarab for the continuity of life.

Concluding, we all took part in a spiral dance throughout the temple and we reenacted a Celtic tale about King Leer and his children. I played the King's daughter and Roy, one of his three sons. Lady Olivia led us on a guided meditation and to close the ritual, I was asked to give my first blessing. Turning to the participants and clergy, I spoke my blessing for us all.

We feasted on grapes, then adjourned to Osbourne's Pub for tea and sandwiches; we all got to know each other and share the news of our work. Everyone was warm and friendly. It would have been a grave error to miss this and I was thankful I listened to the guidance I received that morning.

THE SOLAS BRIDE

So inspiring was our day in Kildare! The entire town seemed supportive of the recently-restored Catholic order of Brigadine nuns who have kept the flame of Brigid alive for the past 5 years, reviving it after it had been extinguished hundreds of years ago. We left offerings at the Well of Brigid, not forgetting to pin our petitions to the clootie tree. We received the flame of Brigid from the Brigadine sisters, who believe the Goddess and Saint Brigid are one in the same. Sister Mary showed us around and shared the story of what they recognize as a modern recent miracle.

The story starts with a local priest who was talented in the art of sculpting. He passed away before he could begin a piece of work planned for the local church. A woman who watched him at work and admired the priest's talent for many years was encouraged to take on the project though she had never sculpted a day in her life. The result was a touching image of a woman and by sheer chance - or perhaps divine plan - there was at the center of the statue, a natural fossil in the shape of a crescent moon, symbol for the goddess. This fossil became the focal point of the statue. People come for miles around to see the miracle and the sisters believe this gift of the Goddess truly could only have come forth through the hands of another woman.

PARTING THOUGHTS

Dublin is the lifeblood of the country, the seat of the government. It is the domain of the rapid transit train, pubs, and society; it has its merits, but finding the Goddess in this Irish City has its difficulties. Yet travel an hour or two beyond the city boundaries and She is there everywhere in the hills, valleys, and rivers. She is there in the dolmen, wedge tombs, and passage graves which older than the pyramids of Egypt. She's among the livestock and the farmers who care for the land and feed Her people. Anyone visiting Ireland can feel Her beyond the Catholic high crosses and multitudes of churches. They need only retreat to the countryside where sheep are on the front lawn, roads barely seem to be roads, villages are not much more than a gas station, and pubs where everyone says hello. Despite their simple life, minimalist ways, and funny flushing toilets, these rural Irish are the richest people in the Emerald Isle. They are closest to Her. She envelops them in Her embrace everyday and Her presence cannot be denied.

We came home from Ireland with new ideas, revelations, renewed energy, and rich experiences. No longer do I only see the world through my California window. I now relate to the wheel of the year having experienced Ireland's short winter days losing light by 5PM and sunrise withheld until after 8AM. I can understand the hope and jubilation for the coming spring sunshine and the solitude of the winter darkness. Our group made it to Egypt. No amount of worry I did made any difference. We can only do our best and then ultimately it is always in the hands of the Goddess. I learned to better trust my intuition and my observations as words from the Goddess. And we all learned first hand what a truly magickal land Ireland can be.

Karen Tate is Priestess of Isis and operates A Special Journey Travel, 660 Venice Boulevard Box #199, Venice, CA 90291, phone 310/450-6661 email specialjourn@earthlink.com