Gate to Oweynagat

In the online witchcraft community we follow our own eclectic ways with an open heart and inclusive mind. While the intention is good, it reminds of the scene in the Monty Python movie ‘The Life of Brian’ where people in a crowd shout, “we are all individuals”, with only one voice protesting, “I am not”. Applied to my life this means, even though I want to think of myself walking my self-authored talk, I feel that my struggle for legitimacy is more real than I would like to admit. So while I am stirring my own magical stew, being part of the crowd in Ireland means to visit the Morrigan’s cave. I have heard other followers of the Morrigan say they had been bullied for not going, and I will not miss out on this opportunity to do it right while I get the chance. We made it to her cave which surprisingly was not titled the Morrigan’s cave at all. Translated from Gaelic, the cave is called the Cave of the Cats. It is the warrior queen Medb who is the central figure of the place with its mounds, waters, and the cave, while certainly the Morrigan is tightly woven to her and the cave as well. If I had planned our trip more properly, I could have participated in the two hours guided tour. But arriving in Rathcroghan spontaneously, I prioritised a quick visit to the cave together with my family, saying hello to a goddess of my imagination, happy to leave a tiny offering unnoticed by the archaeologists who do the tours. Even if I could have done better from a cultural appreciation point of view, I am glad I visited Oweynagat softly opening and closing the cattle gate all by myself this time. My next visit will be better prepared and if you want to go and visit the cave, check out this website

The History of Rathcroghan

Taken by the faeries

Who the h**l would honk at us
waiting for our turn at a stop sign?? As far as we could see, we had done everything right, and the confrontation with the impatience and rudeness of our species left us in deep shock. However, there was a however to the story, when we discovered the loss of our yellow Kånken backpack some hours later. The last place we had seen it was on the roof of our car. The bag had been involved in an emergency nappy stop amidst the green Irish wetness. Our insights concerning the previous whereabouts of our backpack suddenly explained a lot. So what do you do when you drop the nappy bag that also contains a rain jacket, a fleece, the book of the hungry caterpillar, and the tale of the mole with the poop on his head. You zoom into satellite views on Google maps and spend the next day driving back, talking to people, and leaving your number. I asked the Druidcraft tarot, it answered 7 of Pentacles, showing a cloaked figure cutting a mistletoe. There is a time to sow and a time to cut. We did not find the yellow Kånken but at least we tried. Maybe it was taken by the faeries or perhaps we simply lost a bag. It happens from time to time…

Just good enough

The smoke detector that went off in the middle of the night was a bit dystopian but apart from that the ambience of our last minute booking radiated the luxury of Christian Grey. After jumping on top of a suitcase, pressing reset, and cuddling back into the sheets with my sleeping mask and earplugs in place, it took some more hours before finding an elaborate printed apology at our doorstep and getting ready for breakfast. Very little alienated we got coffee and we got tea, my dear, and got our toast roasted on both sides. Then hubby carried all our luggage back to the car and in the next step we enjoyed the ride on the left lane, asking ourselves why people plant tight hedges around their crops and pastures that block our view on the pastoral landscape. After finding most of the lunch places in Kettering closed, we got ourselves a DIY tortilla kit at Sainsbury’s and headed off for the playground. I am in the car now, waiting for my turn to play, watching the wardens who are patrolling the parking spaces to get a catch. I am avoiding the card of the day, XVI Revolution, as I am seeking out a trajectory of transition rather than a radical break with the life I am leaving behind. It could be a sign of maturity and perhaps changing country, work situation, language, etcetera, is just good enough to count as a personal revolution already.

Time for reclamation

I am sitting in the café right in front of my office. It is my last day at work and I am essentially going to take one last coffee with a dear colleague and hand in my computer. Picking up my Intuitive Night Goddess Tarot and the Reclaim Oracle I do a “reclaim” tarot spread. The cards tell me that I am in the place of the 2 of Wands, at the threshold to the Ace of Cups, going to reclaim my personal life with XVI Revolution, my relationship life with VIII Strength, and my work life with the Queen of Swords, about to step into the power of the Queen of Wands. The 10 of Wands drops out of the deck telling me to take it easy on myself, amplified by the oracle card Protection. What a beautiful draw. I will have to find ways to make the reclamation real in my life. It is not enough to change the external circumstances such as my address and employment. I will use this spread as a stepping off stone for deep inner work where I explore each one of the cards in its emotional and practical components. I see it coming!

An old fashioned blog

Those nights when the kid wakes you up and you cannot get back to sleep even though it is only 3.30. It is the time when I sit down and reflect on questions such as why I prefer an old fashioned blog instead of posting on the more modern social media. I have tried Facebook , Instagram, Twitter, and YouTube, of which I have enjoyed YouTube the most. On YouTube I have been able to make some real friends who I have visited, whatsapped and zoomed with. But despite the lovely contacts I have made, I do not feel authentic on YouTube, and I do not have the capacity to keep up with all the content, new subscribers, comments and commenting, without burning myself out. The old fashioned blog simply is my own space – no competition, no adds, no spam, no trolls – and whoever wants to come and visit can do so from time to time. I have switched off the comments in order to create a digital place of stillness. If feels good!