From my newsletter this week:
I owe a great and ongoing praise to the Goddess-cum-Saint Brigid, without whom I would never have found my current path of Graeco-Tibetan-Tantric-Nomad-Alchemy-Goddess Spirituality. How the heck did that happen? Well, the world is both a bigger and a smaller place than we usually think it is.
In 1999, feeling lost in the patriarchal machine of Catholicism, in the throes of a "what now?" identity crisis, I made a pilgrimage to visit Brigid's sacred site in Kildare, Ireland. What happened there touched every part of my life- personal, professional, relational, and spiritual. I was changed, permanently, for the better. It is fair to say I would not be where I am without having met Brigid. She was the single seed that started a forest of spirituality for me, a forest that is still proliferating, now with many different types of trees.
Today, for Imbolc (the first major Pagan Sabbat of the calendar year), I am launching a month of poetry on HiveQuest in her honor. Poetry is sacred to Brigid, along with fire, the forge, holy wells, fertility, cows, sheep, medicine, statecraft, and more. She is a Goddess for every season, and for every phase of life. There is still time to join this challenge: with help and support, you will write 4 poems (one per week) about the ways in which you have been forged, tempered, healed, and transformed in your life thus far.
It is said that a daily recitation of the following "Genealogy of Brigid" found in the Carmina Gadelica will protect the one who has spoken the words. I must admit, I do not speak this genealogy every single day, but perhaps I ought to, and today I surely will.
The genealogy of the holy maiden Brigit,
Radiant arrow of flame, noble foster-mother of gods,
Brigit the daughter of the Dagda,
Dagda the Good God, the son of Ethlinn,
Ethlinn the daughter of Balor,
Balor the king of the Fomoire.
Every day and every night
That I say the genealogy of Brigit,
I shall not be killed, I shall not be injured,
I shall not be enchanted, I shall not be cursed,
Neither shall my power leave me.
No earth, no sod, no turf shall cover me,
No fire, no sun, no moon shall burn me,
No water, no lake, no sea shall drown me,
No air, no wind, no vapour shall sicken me,
No glamour out of Faery shall o'ertake me,
And I under the protection of the holy maiden,
My gentle foster-mother, my beloved Brigit.
Hail, Bright One of Holy Fire and Sacred Water! Hail, Green One of Earth and Birth! Hail, Daughter, Mother, and Leader! Thank You!