Crone in Corrogue: Wild Wisdom of the Elder Years

Glorying in the elder years, a time of spirituality, service and some serious sacred activism

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Lunasa Dreamtime

It is Lunasa in a week's time. Here in Ireland the hints of autumn have come early. The billberries are already plump. My husband has cut down some rye grass for me to make harvest decorations. The rowan berries are already reddening.  Everything in nature feels a bit rushing the season, early, out of sync somehow. The actual weather has been bucking previous summer trends as well.  We have had long spells without heavy rain, only soft smatterings, more extended bursts of sunshine than unusual, but also warmer and more humid spells, with lots of oppressive low cloud. Which may not be so unusual since our celestial, astrological weather is pretty maverick right now, too. But this summer season has also felt like an extended dreamtime to me.

I know that in some places readers are drowning in record rainfall. My friend in Arizona has endured 50C/120F days with only water condensers to cool them down. The hot, humid NE USA means my friend with MS is very grateful for supermarkets that are open 24/7; she has to avoid the heat of the day to do shopping since that might trigger an episode.

But this is about the energy weather in my corner of the world and what it has illuminated for me.

I grew up in pre-AC hot, humid Pennsylvania. Being very fair-skinned (I am deeply at home in this nation of pale persons here in Ireland) I gravitated always towards shade. The languor of sultry summertime often drove me to the cool cavern of our house's basement to do craft work. This mole-like tendency rather worried my mother; but shehad enough melanin to tan and enjoyed sunshine and summer heat.

But why not cocoon in summer just as we do at the exact opposite time of the year? it is what we would be doing in January during the extreme cold weather!  Dreamtime needs cocoon time. The heat may be driving some of you to slow down, close the shutters, and to sit quietly drinking long cool drinks.

In Ireland my Lunasa dreamtime is more about watching how still the humid days are. Our days are not hot by North American standards, hovering in the 60F range. But we are a damp nation, even when we have dry-ish seasons; the acid soil holds the moisture and it gently steams when the temps rise above 21C. If our mercury goes above 25C the tar in our lane melts. We are not a nation built to withstand extreme cold or heat.

Nonetheless, this summer has had many still days, clammy, with not a whisper of a breeze.  There has been low cloud and hanging mist. My husband says that out in the garden he slowly goes about his business as if working through treacle. Storms have threatened, but surrounded by mountains as we are, the storm that has been promised for months has failed to materialise.  It creates an atmosphere where you feel as if you are waiting for the other shoe to drop.

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Lough Allen, July 24, 2017

Which may also be a reflection of the wider, celestial and astrological weather operating over our global consciousness. So I have hunkered down as I might do in winter time to wait for the dreamtime visions and prophecies to arrive. It feels like a time of waiting, but I also feel that the August 2017 eclipses will usher in the close to this liminal, 'on the brink' of something time.  You would think that with all the fiery energy in the sky that there wouldn't be so much 'steam.' But actually, it kind of makes sense given how moist a climate we have. 

b2ap3_thumbnail_Lough-Allen.jpg

 

Water is always a big draw in summertime anywhere in the world. It cools us down in hot weather. Breezes fanning across their expanses act like nature's water condensers to regulate the heat. It reflects the moods of the weather.  The flow offers balm to heart and soul. But water is also the element of the womb.  Summertime is also a dreamtime, womb time.We need that 'down time', the summer holidays (read that holy days). We need to vacate (as in vacation) our normal routines for some rest and reflection.

Meanwhile, the womblike dreamtime is ripe for creation. The past Leo New Moon and the upcoming 'blue' Leo New Moon in August is begging us to make and create.  It is writing and reading and editting time. It is drum and prayer time.  It is make some art and wild crafting time. Within the cocoon there is rest, just as our beloved companion animals do. They save themselves up for that moment when it will be time to spring into action. And that may not actually be springtime. It might mean that this Lunasa's harvest will be just as maverick as the this summer's weather.

What will you make over this Lunasagh dreamtime? What will you seed to create this season of two Leo, sign of creativity, new moons?

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Bee Smith has enjoyed a long relationship with SageWoman as a contributor, columnist and blogger. She lives in the Republic of Ireland, teaches creative writing and is a member of the Irish Art Council's Writers in Prisons panel. She is the author of "Brigid's Way: Celtic Reflections on the Divine Feminine."    

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