from BARDO

The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way our umbilicus.

Is it a consolation that the stuff of which we’re made

is star-stuff too?


– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –

dispersal only: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen.


Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.


Roselle Angwin

Monday 30 April 2018

Reblog: Beltane fires, obby oss & the goddess of the land

Hello lovely readers

An apology from me that you are rereading last Beltane's post. Too much going on.

However, I'm celebrating Beltane, that old Midsummer fire festival ('midsummer'??) by recharging myself from two extremely intensive ISLANDS OF THE HEART retreats on the Hebrides (next year's weeks are already nearly full): 5 Rhythms dancing this morning; digging the garden for my (very late) broad beans this afternoon; and with TM round the firepit in our 'horseshoe' veg plot, near the blossoming apple trees, this evening. And cooking up some new residential workshops...


Wherever you are, I wish you a joyous Beltane/May Day, and may the fires of inspiration burn brightly for you this summer.



Unite and unite, oh, let us all unite –
For summer is a-coming today
And whither we are going we will all unite
In the merry morning of May.


So begins the ancient May Day song of my childhood, for the equally ancient rites of 'Obby 'Oss in Padstow, north Cornwall, as the Old Oss, a fearsome snapping black and red ‘stallion’ of winter meets his death at the hands of incoming summer on May Day evening, welcomed in today.

The Obby Oss* is led on by a dancing ‘Teaser’, who prods him – he is of course in effect a pantomime horse – with a padded stick, or wand. Behind the teaser are the drums and accordions, and the crowds – these days many thousands – sing the traditional songs. All the time the Oss makes dives into the crowd to snatch a girl or a woman to drag under his cape, in a symbolic and laughing reflection of the old fertility rites of Beltane, for some say that this ritual dates back four thousand years (others say it’s more recent).

The whole event which, in true Celtic style, begins at midnight of April 30, involves much drumming, dancing, laughing, singing and general merriment, and even though the days when it was merely an event for the locals, as when I was a child, have long gone, the general excitement and fizz of its original power still remain. The town is decorated with flowers and a maypole – phallic symbol – and in addition to the Old Oss there is now a more recent ‘Blue Oss’, as well as a ‘Children’s Oss’.


In the old calendar, the year begins at Samhain, November 1st. Beltane, in honour of Bel, the ancient sun-god, six months on, is seen as the beginning of true summer.

Traditionally, fires would be lit on the beacon hilltops, and younger people would jump over or through them to ensure fertility. Sometimes pairs of fires were lit, and cattle would be driven between them, for the same reason. (This was also traditionally the time when cattle would be turned out onto summer pasture.)



It’s hawthorn day, that heart-balancer, whose five-petalled blossom represents the Goddess.



At Sancreed Holy Well



And you, solitary waykeeper hunched by this stile

and then again standing proud by the cloutie-well, 

one among multitudes, and yet to each of you 



your own song, here on this granite peninsula

at the land’s edge where you lean to the northeast

in a slant sweep, your compactness



like the people of this land, surrendering 

to wind, to seafret and rainfall, to the deep 

lodestones of the ores beneath your roots.



Midsummer, and your spilt five-petalled blooms 

a bouquet for Her, sparks of milky light 

harvested from sun, from cloud, from the misty



rains that stroll these ancient downlands. 

To you, then, hawthorn, the secrets of guardianship 

of this land, the protection of her sacred



waters, the wisdom of yielding to the elements

without giving up the one place

where your roots are nourished into blossom.

(RLA Sancreed, 2016)



It would be now that the May Queen, she of the hawthorn, may blossom, as chosen representative of the Goddess of Sovereignty, the Goddess of the Land, in early times would lie with her consort, Cernunnos, the Horned One of the Greenwood. This was in order to bestow kingship, sovereignty, on him that he might make a true servant of the land.


The gift of sovereignty was always more than the right to rule over a country and its clan. It was a divine power, bestowed by the goddess of the land in the guise of a particular living woman on the king, who thereafter acted as her representative. 

In his symbolic marrying of the Goddess he was also marrying the land. It was only through such a union – either a recognised marriage or ritualised sexual encounter, but always in the spirit of the Sacred Marriage – with her that the king could rule. By joining with the goddess of the land, he in turn became profoundly connected both to the land and to its people.


One such archetypal May Queen, Queen of the Land, was Gwenhwyfar, she who bestowed kingship on Arthur.


On an inner level, this is a time to celebrate the bringing-together of our own masculine and feminine aspects, or anima and animus, ying and yang; for bringing together our inner and our outer lives. It’s time, too, to close the door of winter, for now, and welcome in the building energies of the summer months.


© Roselle Angwin 2017


* for photos, see: http://greatbritishmag.co.uk/lifestyle/what-is-obby-oss (the essay is slight and not entirely accurate but the pictures are true)


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