I recently found out that the remains of a new ‘oldest northerner’ have been discovered. The Ossick Lass was a young child aged 2.5 – 3.5 years old. She was buried in Heaning Wood Bone Cave, to the north of Great Urswick (the town for which she was named in local dialect terms), on the Furness Peninsula, in Cumbria.
Fragments of her cranium were dated to between 9290 and 8295BC. This makes her 11,000 years old and the third oldest Mesolithic burial in northwestern Europe. She has thus replaced the former ‘oldest northerner’ – a woman whose femur was found nearby in Kent’s Bank Cavern, 12.6km to the east.
She was buried with at least five perforated periwinkle shells. These belonged to the flat periwinkle (Littorina obtusata), a sea snail which is still found on the rocky shores of Britain. Its shell can be a great range of colours, varying from ‘bright yellow to olive green, orange, brown, reddish-brown and black’, making it striking choice for a ritual burial. Archaeologists are in agreement that these shells should be classed as grave goods.
To provide some context, the earliest known burials in Britain are from the Palaeolithic period. The first is the ‘Paviland Red Lady’, who was really a male hunter. He was buried in Goat’s Hole Cave, Paviland, on the Gower Peninsula, in South Wales, 33,000 years ago. He, too was buried with grave goods, which included periwinkle shells, ivory bracelets and a mammoth ivory tusk, and his skeleton was dyed with red ochre.
The next burials are after the Dimlington Interstadial, which occurred from 31,000 to 16,000 years ago. The remains of 5 – 7 individuals from Gough’s Cave, Somerset, date back 14,700 years. Their bones yield evidence of ritual cannibalism, such as cut and bite marks, and cups fashioned from their skulls. DNA analysis shows that they belonged to a Magdalenian population. Cannibalism was part of their funerary practice and occurred at 25% of sites.
Another 4 individuals were buried in Kendrick’s Cave on the Great Orme, Llandudno, Wales, 14,000 years ago. With them were found a decorated horse jaw, flints and bear teeth with holes used for jewellery. DNA analysis shows these people belonged to a Western Hunter-Gatherer population that replaced the Magdalenian. Their burial practices show no traces of cannibalism.
These Palaeolithic burials and the early Mesolithic burials are separated by the Younger Dryas or Loch Lomond Stadial – the last cold period that made Britain uninhabitable. This took place from 12,900 to 11,700 years ago. The people who repopulated Britain were of the Western Hunter Gatherer culture. They descended from ancient populations who took refuge in southern Europe, in areas such as Italy and the Iberian Peninsula, during the Last Glacial Maximum and retreated south again during the Younger Dryas.
The earliest Mesolithic burials in Britain took place 11,000 – 10,000 years ago. The first are two individuals, an adult and a juvenile, from Worm’s Head on the Gower Peninsula, dating to 9750BC. The Ossick Lass follows at 9290BC. The most famous Mesolithic burial site is the cemetery at Aveline’s Hole, Somerset, (8750BC) where over 50 individuals were buried. There is evidence for ritual burial with grave goods including perforated animal teeth, seven ammonite shells and, once again, periwinkle shells, along with red ochre. Others include Badger Hole, Somerset (8770BC), Gough’s Cave, Somerset (8540BC), and Kent’s Bank Cave, Cumbria (8430BC). Starr Carr (9335 – 8440BC) is the best recorded Mesolithic settlement.
Gough’s Cave yielded the first near-complete skeleton, who is now known as the Cheddar Man. DNA from his skull and genetic profiling have been used to reveal his biological traits – he had dark-to-black hair and skin and striking blue eyes. 3D imaging has provided us with a portrait of his appearance. Interestingly, he was 85% Western Hunter Gatherer, 15% Magdalenian.
The Ossick Lass, too, would have belonged to the Western Hunter Gatherer population. We can thus surmise that she had dark-to-black hair and blue eyes.
Great Urswick is close to the coast, so it seems likely that the Ossick Lass’s people ate a combination of terrestrial animals, such as red deer, elk, aurochs marine creatures including seals, fish and shellfish, and nuts, berries and plants.
The use of periwinkle shells as grave goods in the burials of the Paviland Red Lady, the Ossick Lass and the people at Aveline’s Hole is notable. Were they used because they were pretty or did they have a deeper significance?
Flat periwinkles occupy the sublittoral zone, just below the littoral (or intertidal zone), where their primary food source is bladderwrack. They would have been quite easy to catch and also seen as liminal creatures. With their colourful shells might they have been as messengers and perhaps guides to the Otherworld, Annwn ‘Very Deep’, which lay beyond the waves?
I’m not sure, but as I write these words, I hear the laughter of a little girl who is playing with sea shells and laughing at our strange thoughts and strange ways.
Dear readers, I am writing this post to let you know that I am reconsidering running an online shamanic circle in the evening. Last year, I gave up the idea due to low numbers and struggles with late nights due to being a morning person and finding it difficult to shift my routine due to my autism.
Things have changed a little since then. I have a larger client base. I’ve recently been having some CBT therapy for an issue I’ve struggled with for most of my life*. Now that’s starting to improve, I’m feeling more flexible and resilient and more able to handle the change of routine.
I’m envisaging that the circle would run for 1 hr 30 mins monthly and I’m going to say the first Wednesday of the month from 7 – 8.30pm UK time. If a number of people were to say another week day worked better for them this could be changed. The cost would be £10.
The format of the circle would be as follows:
*Check in. *Honouring the spirits of place and calling in our spirit helpers. *Short talk on the month’s journey topic. *Shamanic journey. *Feedback. *Thanking the spirits of place and spirit helpers.
Journey topics would include but not be limited to: exploring the Lower World, Middle World and Upper World, animal spirit guides, spirit teachers, tree and plant allies, ancestors, land spirits, the fay and Gods and Goddesses. We could also journey on issues that are pressing to members. Ultimately, I’d like to help people to build the confidence to journey for each other and do basic healing work. There would also be the possibility of exploring Brythonic myths and deities if enough people were interested.
I’m estimating that the first circle would run on or around Wednesday 2nd September 7 – 8.30pm UK time.
*An eating disorder that has presented in various patterns of binge eating and drinking and dietary restriction and overexercise. I got over the first two things on my own. The last two things have been harder to shift as they make me feel good, but I’m getting on top of them slowly.
In polytheistic and shamanic traditions, houses are viewed as inspirited and as having one or more house spirits. Building a good relationship with your house spirit(s) can improve your relationship with your house and with your home life and luck.
Are you curious about whether your house has a spirit? Are there signs that something is trying to get your attention such as misplaced items, things going missing, creaks, leaks, or unexplained mould or damp?
If so you might be interested in booking a shamanic session focusing on your house spirit.
The session will include:
*An introduction to house spirits. *A discussion of your current relationship with your house spirit. *A shamanic journey to your house spirit to get to know it better and to ask about its needs.
Sessions are an hour long and I am offering them at a discount price of £20 (reduced from £30).
In ancient and modern polytheistic and shamanic cultures, houses are viewed as inspirited and as being occupied by one or more house spirits. My recent efforts to build a better relationship with my house and house spirits has led me to researching how people in Britain and, in particular, in my local area and more widely across Lancashire, have related to theirs.
Living Lightly
The earliest people of Britain were hunter-gatherers. They were highly mobile. Those who dwelled in Lancashire spent their summers in temporary camps in various locations on the West Pennines and moved to larger and more static base camps in the western lowlands over the winter.
I live in Penwortham in a lowland area close to the river Ribble. A couple of miles upriver was a camp at Walton-le-Dale where blades were made. The closest upland camps are on Withnell, Wheelton, Anglezarke, Rivington and Smithills Moors.
These people lived so lightly on the land not a trace of their dwellings has been found. They slept in tents made from animal hides that they carried with them, supported by stakes made from dwarf birch and willow. The animal hides were viewed as imbued with the spirit of the animal who was killed and the stakes with the spirits of the trees who had been felled. Prayers and offerings were likely made to these spirits before and after their deaths.
The First Houses
During the Paleolithic and Mesolithic periods, settlements were rare but did exist. The most famous example is Star Carr in Yorkshire. Here, the earliest house in Britain was found, dating to around 8,500 BCE. It consisted of a ring of 18 wooden posts enclosing a circular floor 3.5 meters in diameter. It was likely thatched with reeds from the nearby lake. Three later houses were found along with timber platforms from which offerings were made to the lake.
Reconstruction of Howick House in Northumberland, Wikipedia Commons
Another example is Howick House in Northumberland dating to 7500BCE. At Lunt Meadows in Merseyside, three houses dating to 6000BCE were found. Close by was an intricate arrangement of stones consisting of two granite boulders, stained red, with sparkling mica pieces, with struck blue flints and a smaller pebble. These likely served a ritual function. Also, a tree had been set alight on the site and a white flint blade deposited underneath it.
It has been theorised that, whilst most of the population remained mobile, some people might have lived permanently at these camps and made them ‘home’. Here, perhaps, we found the earliest house spirits.
It is likely that offerings were made to placate the land spirits before building a house and to keep them happy whilst people were in residence. It’s possible that some of the land spirits who were recipients came to be house spirits.
During the Neolithic period, in southern Britain, people began settling in farmsteads and taking to small-scale agriculture but this was less common in the north. The earliest domestic settlement in my vicinity is Irby, on the Wirral, from the Middle Bronze Age. It’s a circular structure with post-sockets in which pottery and clay artefacts were found – likely offerings to the land spirits. Within was an oven, pottery and bronze work. Cereals were farmed.
Such farmsteads, and other roundhouses, were simple structures with a hearth in the middle and beds around the outside. People worked and slept in them and no doubt told stories around the fire through the winter months. These houses would have been alive with the spirit of the family, their work, their tales. The fire would likely have been honoured along with the house spirits.
Here, in Penwortham, there was a Bronze Age lake dwelling on Penwortham Marsh consisting of a brushwood platform and piles measuring 17m by 7m. This may have been occupied during the winter and by people travelling the Ribble in dug-out canoes (two of which were found in the nearby area).
Hill Forts and Foundation Burials
In the Late Bronze Age and in the Iron Age people began building hill forts. These ranged in size. Some were a single fortified building with defensive palisades, banks and ditches, whereas others contained whole villages with roundhouses, granaries and storage pits, and shrines.
It’s possible that an earlier small prehistoric fort (or burial mound) lay beneath the Anglo-Saxon fort that gave its name to Castle Hill in Penwortham. Along the Ribble, there were possible promontory forts on Frenchwood Knoll and along the banks at Fishwick Allotments, Red Scar Wood and Boilton Wood.
Hill forts across Britain are often associated with foundation burials. For example, there was an adult burial beneath Maiden Hill in Dorset and at South Cadbury in Somerset there were numerous burials in ritual pits. These may have been made to placate the land spirits and / or to incorporate ancestors into the house. These spirits likely became house spirits.
Maiden Castle, Wikipedia Commons
The tradition of foundation burials of humans and animals is long standing. Two human skeletons were buried beneath a house on Orkney during the Neolithic period and a sea eagle was also buried as a foundation deposit. At Cladh Hallan, in South Ouist, on the Outer Hebrides, two mummified skeletons were deposited beneath a Bronze Age roundhouse. These were composed of different persons showing a complex merging of ancestors and house.
Hill forts were seen to have their own spirit and to be inspirited by past owners. In medieval Welsh literature, we find references to Caer Gwenddolau (‘the Fort of Gwenddolau’) and Staffell Cynddylan (‘The Hall of Cynddylan’) about whose fall exists a lament describing it as ‘forlorn,’ ‘desolate’, ‘dark’.
Roman House Spirits
Unfortunately, the Britons didn’t write anything down, so we don’t know much about their specific beliefs about house spirits or their names. However, we do know about the traditions brought by the Romans.
It’s worth noting here that Roman building traditions differed to the British. When they came here, they built houses with multiple rooms, including kitchens, dining rooms, baths and individual bedrooms.
Examples here in Lancashire include the fort at Kirkham and the Roman town at Ribchester known as Bremetennacum, ‘the Fortress by the Roaring Ford’, due to its proximity to the River Ribble. There was also a Roman industrial site at Walton-le-Dale, continuing the earlier blade industry.
The Romans honoured a variety of house spirits. The Lares domesticus were house spirits and might formerly have been spirits of the land. The Lares familiaris were spirits of the family – family ancestors. The penates were spirits of the pantries and kitchen and often had altars in the cupboards and were seen to look after the food and were gifted with food offerings at mealtimes. The male head of the household had a genius who helped him to govern the home and the female a guiding spirit called a Juno. Each family also had their own patron God or Goddess and worshipped the local deities.
Roman Lararium (a shrine to the Lares), Wikipedia Commons
Whereas we see examples of Romans taking over British shrines and equating British and Roman deities via interpretatio Romana (for example, Belisama, Goddess of the Ribble, was equated with Minerva at Ribchester), we do not find any examples of British and Roman house spirits being equated. This is likely because household shrines were small and made of organic materials and did not leave any traces in the archaeological records.
It’s likely that the Britons also honoured both spirits of the house and family and possibly had guiding spirits for their male and female lineages.
‘Unclean Spirits’
With the coming of Christianity and its establishment as the mainstream religion in Britain following the conversion of Constantine in 312CE and the Augustinian Mission in 597CE, interaction with spirits became frowned upon. Pre-Christian sacred sites were replaced with Christian ones. People were told to pray not to the deities of the land but to the Christian God. ‘Unclean spirits’ were routinely banished by the Christian priesthood.
Still, amongst rural people, the older traditions lived on. These were recorded in later folklore. In his Journey Through Wales, in 1188, Gerald of Wales records the existence of disruptive house spirits in Pembroke. He refers to them as ‘unclean spirits’ who ‘have been in close communication with human beings. They are not visible, but their presence is felt all the same… They have been in the habit of manifesting them-selves, throwing refuse all over the place, more keen perhaps to be a nuisance than to do any real harm.’
In William Not’s house, ‘They were a cause of annoyance to both host and guests alike, ripping up their clothes of linen, and their woollen ones, too, and even cutting holes in them. No matter what precautions were taken, there seemed to be no way of protecting these garments, not even if the doors were kept bolted and barred.’
In Stephen Wiet’s house, the spirit argued with humans. ‘When they protested, and this they would often do in sport, he would upbraid them in public for every nasty little act which they had committed from the day of their birth onwards, things which they did not like to hear discussed.’
Gerald notes that Christian priests failed to banish these spirits with holy water.
Bwbachan
In British Goblins (1880), Wirt Sikes records several stories of the Welsh Bwbachan, ‘house fairies’. He provides the following description: ‘The Bwbach, or Boobach, is the good-natured goblin which does good turns for the tidy Welsh maid who wins its favour by a certain course of behaviour recommended by long tradition. The maid having swept the kitchen, makes a good fire the last thing at night, and having put the churn, filled with cream, on the whitened hearth, with a basin of fresh cream for the Bwbach on the hob, goes to bed to await the event. In the morning she finds (if she is in luck) that the Bwbach has emptied the basin of cream, and plied the churn-dasher so well that the maid has but to give a thump or two to bring the butter in a great lump. Like the Ellyll which it so much resembles, the Bwbach does not approve of dissenters and their ways, and especially strong is its aversion to total abstainers.’
He records a number of tales of how these spirits have come to help on farms. In Glamorganshire, Rowli Pugh was down on his luck. An ellyll ‘elf or fairy’ offered to help on the condition that he bid his ‘good wife leave the candle burning when she goes to bed, and say no more about it.’ Every night, ‘his wife set the candle out, swept the hearth, and went to bed; and every night the fairies would come and do her baking and brewing, her washing and mending, sometimes even furnishing their own tools and materials.’ ‘Everything prospered’. Then, ‘one night… she took a peep at the fair family… through a crack in the door. There they were, a jolly company of ellyllon, working away like mad, and laughing and dancing as madly as they worked. Catti was so amused that in spite of herself she fell to laughing too; and at sound of her voice the ellyllon scattered like mist before the wind, leaving the room empty. They never came back any more; but the farmer was now prosperous, and his bad luck never returned to plague him.’
In a story that shares resemblances with others from across Britain, at Hendrefawr farm, in Merionethshire, a farmer is tormented by a Bwbach who he wishes would ‘flit’. To get rid of the troublesome spirit, he feigns leaving the farm, putting his household goods on a cart and leaving for England. When he reaches a ford called Rhyd-y-Fen, a neighbour asks if he is leaving for good. From the churn on the cart comes a shrill cry, ‘Yes, yes, we are flitting from Hendrefawr to Eingl-dud, where we’ve got a new home.’ The farmer, realising his plan has failed, takes the Bwbach back to their home.
This shows that once a house spirit has formed an attachment with a certain family, they will often follow the family, rather than remaining with the new owners.
Brownies
Brownie, by Alice Woodward, Wikipedia Commons
In Scotland and some areas of northern England and the midlands, house spirits are referred to as brownies. In his Fairy Mythology, (1828), Thomas Keightley describes a ‘Brownie’ as ‘a personage of small stature, wrinkled visage, covered with short curly brown hair, and wearing a brown mantle and hood. His residence is the hollow of the old tree, a ruined castle, or the abode of man, He is attached to particular families, with whom he has been known to reside, even for centuries, threshing the corn, cleaning the house… He is, to a certain degree, disinterested; like many great personages, he is shocked at anything approaching to the name of a bribe or douceur, yet, like them, allows his scruples to be overcome if the thing be done in a genteel, delicate, and secret way. Thus, offer Brownie a piece of bread, a cup of drink, or a new coat and hood, and he flouted at it, and perhaps, in his huff, quitted the place for ever; but leave a nice bowl of cream, and some fresh honeycomb, in a snug private corner, and they soon disappeared, though Brownie, it was to be supposed, never knew anything of them.’
Here, we find some overlap with other British house spirits with the helping with household chores and enjoyment of offerings of dairy products. We also find the additional rule against giving other forms of payment, particularly clothing.
In other tales, Brownies given clothing take offence and depart. ‘A new mantle and a new hood; / Poor Brownie! ye ‘ll ne’er do mair gude!’ ‘Gie Brownie coat, gie Brownie sark, / Ye ‘se get nae mair o’ Brownie’s wark!’ A Brownie given bread and milk left taking ‘the luck’ of the house with him.
House Boggarts
Here, in Lancashire, house spirits often appear as troublesome boggarts. These spirits traditionally dwell in boggart holes and come to take up residence in farms and cause trouble, possibly because they have taken a disliking to the draining of their land by the ditches that drain the fields.
In The Lancashire Dictionary, Alan Crosby defines a boggart as a ‘ghost, sprite, evil spirit or feeorin.’ He says, ‘There was scarcely an old house or a lonely valley which did not have its terrifying tales of creatures which roamed, shrieked and caused havoc – though most do not appear to have been especially malevolent, and some were just a nuisance.’
A farmhouse in Boggart’s Hole Clough in Blackley was haunted by a creature with ‘a small shrill voice’ ‘like a baby’s penny trumpet’ who played tricks on the residents and their children. Having decided to leave, as they made their departure they heard the shrill voice say ‘Ay, ay neighbour, we’re flitting you see.” Realising wherever they went the boggart would follow, they turned back.
The boggart of Barcroft Hall in Burnley was reputedly ‘a helpful little fellow’ until given a pair of clogs. After this he caused trouble, breaking pots and pans, making animals sick and lame, preventing the cows from milking and putting the farmer’s prize bull on the roof. Fed up of his tricks the farmer decided to leave. Crossing a small bridge he heard a voice call from beneath, “Stop while I’ve tied my clogs, and I’ll go with you!” The farmer resigned to go back.’
Here we find again the themes of ‘flitting’ and the rule against giving clothes.
Approaching House Spirits
The archaeological and literary evidence for house spirits suggests they originated as land spirits and became incorporated into the house and then became attached to certain families, who they would often follow. They exercise a certain amount of freedom, choosing who they serve, setting conditions, and causing trouble or departing if they are not met. Some are satisfied by any offering of food or drink whilst others demand dairy. Giving them money or clothes appears to be a universal no-no.
Assessing whether your house has a house spirit and whether it is happy might be evidenced by the feel and condition of the house. Is the house clean and airy? Do you feel like you’re helped with the chores? Does anything get on its own? Or are things always breaking or being misplaced? Is everything always a mess? Do you find you’re plagued by mould and damp?
For those who feel comfortable it is a good idea to try to commune with the house spirit. This can be done in meditation or light trance. A candle can be lit and an offering of food or drink (dairy products if it feels right) can be made.
Be polite and respectful. Don’t immediately ask for help or favours. Check in with the spirit about who they are, how long they’ve been there, what they need. Depending on your own and the spirit’s ways of speaking and listening, you might see and hear the spirit directly with your inner sense or might receive feelings, an inner knowing, or some physical sign like a creak or blast of wind. Be aware that such spirits have likely not been talked to for a long time and might be feeling hurt and resentful about their neglect.
Afterwards, if drawn to, you might set aside a space for the spirit with a representation, a candle, or a place for offerings, as you both see fit.
The spirit can then be consulted on questions relating to the house such as cleaning, decorating and renovation and even asked for advice on family affairs.
When considering moving house you might ask if the spirit wants to stay or leave. And… if you don’t… you might find that it comes flitting with you!
Scarborough Fair is a northern English folksong which was first recorded in Frank Kidson’s Traditional Tunes in 1891. The fair it is named after took place in Scarborough from 1253 until 1788, running from Assumption Day, August 15th, until Michaelmas day, September 29th. It forms a place-specific variant of an older song, ‘The Elphin Knight’, collected by Francis James Child as Child Ballad 2 with variants dating back to the 1670s.
The song takes the form of an exchange between a pair of former lovers. The first part is sung by a male, who asks a traveller to take a message to the female. He sets her a trio of impossible tasks – to make him a cambric shirt without seam or needlework, to wash it in a dry well, and hang it on a thorn tree that has never blossomed in order to win him back. She replies with her own trio of impossible tasks – to find an acre of land between the sea foam and sea sand, sow it with one peppercorn and tie it up with a peacock’s feather. Only then, will she make the shirt and agree to be his true love.
The tradition of lovers completing impossible tasks is a long one. It is found in the medieval Welsh text, Culhwch ac Olwen (1100), in which Culhwch completes forty to win the hand of Olwen from the giant, Ysbaddaden Bencawr. These, too, include ploughing and sowing the land and Ysbaddaden Bencawr means ‘Chief Hawthorn Giant’ which might relate to the thorn tree. ‘The Giant’s Daughter’ international folklore motif, containing the impossible tasks, is pan-European, and dates back to prehistoric times.
Notably, in the second line of each verse, we find the repetition of the line – ‘savoury (later parsley – the same herb), sage, rosemary and thyme’. This replaced an earlier refrain – ‘Sober and grave grows merry in time’.
This is the version of Scarborough Fair recorded by Frank Kidson:
The male: O, where are you going? To Scarborough Fair? Savoury, sage, rosemary and thyme, Remember me to a lass that lives there, For she was once a true love of mine.
And tell her to make me a cambric shirt, Savoury, sage, rosemary and thyme, Without any seam or needlework, And then she shall be a true love of mine.
And tell her to wash it in yonder dry well, Savoury, sage, rosemary and thyme, Where no water sprung nor a drop of rain fell, And then she shall be a true love of mine.
And tell her to dry it on yonder thorn, Savoury, sage, rosemary and thyme, Which never bore blossom since Adam was born, And then she shall be a true love of mine.
The female: O, will you find me an acre of land, Savoury, sage, rosemary and thyme, Between the sea foam and the sea sand, Or never you’ll be a true love of mine.
O, will you plough it with a ram’s horn, Savoury, sage, rosemary and thyme, And sow it all over with one peppercorn, Or else you’ll be a true love of mine.
Or will you reap it with a sickle of leather, Savoury, sage, rosemary and thyme, And tie it all up with a peacock’s feather, Or never you’ll be a true love of mine.
And when you have done and have finished your work, Savoury, sage, rosemary and thyme, You can come to me for your cambric shirt, And then you shall be a true love of mine.
This song has meaning to me because I rewrote and sung the first part based around the impossible tasks Vindos set me for when I married Him in death.
Are you going to the Land of the Fair Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme Remember me to one who lived there For she once was a true love of mine
Tell her to build us a coffin of wood. Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. From no tree that ever has stood And she will be a true love of mine
Tell her to dig the deepest of graves Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme Without a pick axe or a spade And she will be a true love of mine
Tell her to seal our burial tomb Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme Without hammer or nails return to the womb And she will be a true love of mine
Since then, I have been growing parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme together in my back garden and offering them to Vindos around our wedding day in mid-May.
Whilst the mainstream answer to the origin of the refrain ‘parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme’ lies in its sounding like earlier lines, it has also been suggested that this combination of herbs might be a love charm. Indeed, each of these herbs is associated with love and fertility, as well as death.
Recently, I received the insight that these herbs might not only symbolise my sacred marriage to Vindos, but might have medicinal benefits for me too. Through shamanic journeying and research, I have discerned their personal meaning.
Parsley – Relax
I see you lying on a rock in the Underworld. I lie beside you. It’s a long way up. More than 3 miles, 6 miles, 7 miles, or 9. It’s said you have walked this path 3 times, 6 times, 7 times, 9 times with the Devil or with an Elfin Knight. I see I have walked this path with him too. How long will it take us to stir? To go to the light?
The term ‘parsley’ originates from the Ancient Greek petroselinon, ‘rock celery’, from petros ‘rock’ and selinon ‘celery’. Both parsley and celery belong to the same family – Apicaeae – the parsley, celery, or carrot family. Its Latin name is Petroselinum crispum. It originates from the rocky cliffs of the Mediterranean and, like the other three herbs, was brought to Britain by the Romans.
In the Greek and Roman traditions, parsley was associated with death. It was said to have sprouted from the blood of Archemorus ‘forerunner of death’. It was sacred to Persephone – the ancient Greek Queen of the Underworld. It was strewn on graves, woven into funeral wreaths and grown on tombs. It was also used to deodorise corpses. It was said that when a person was close to death, they would soon need ‘nothing but parsley’.
Its slow germination period was explained by its going to the Devil 3, 6, 7 or 9 times. This is suggestive of its longstanding associations with the Underworld. Or perhaps it is so relaxed it takes it a while to stir from its sleep?
One of its primary properties is bringing about physical and mental relaxation. It contains a phenylpropene called apiole which has historically been used to relieve stomach cramps and menstrual cramps and also has a diuretic action (warning – too much can irritate the kidneys and being about abortions).
It is rich in Vitamin K, which promotes relaxation by regulating calcium levels in the body, thereby preventing involuntary muscle contractions and easing cramps.
It contains two important flavonoids called luteolin and apigenin. These regulate stress hormones and neurotransmitters (GABA and serotonin). They also have neuroprotective, anti-oxidant and anti-inflammatory effects.
As someone with a family history of diabetes, I was intrigued to find out that it contains an anti-diabetic flavonoid called myricetin, that lowers blood sugar.
It also good for the heart. Apigenin also serves as an inflammatory that relaxes blood vessels. Folate (Vitamin B9) lowers levels of homocysteine—an amino acid which can damage arterial structures and cause heart disease.
Its benefits for the heart might provide a link to link to love and to fertility. In ancient Greece and Rome it was used in both funeral and wedding wreaths.
Across Europe it was said that babies were found in patches of parsley prior to the cabbage patch and that growing parsley in the garden led to pregnancy. Parsley wine has also been drunk as an aphrodisiac.
‘Relax’ is the message that parsley has brought for me.
If only I could lie down in a bed of parsley and go to sleep…
Sage – Clear your Mind
I float to you light as smoke. The smog of black thoughts I leave behind. By you I am filtrated, siphoned. Wise old sage, you clear my mind.
The term ‘sage’ originates from the Latin sapere ‘to have good taste, to be wise’. It now refers to a wise person. The Latin name, salvia officinalis, comes from salvia ‘to heal’ and officina, a place where monks kept their herbs. Like rosemary and thyme, it belongs to the Lamiaceae, thesage family.
Sage has long been associated with wisdom. The Romans chewed the herb and drank in their tea to improve their mental sharpness and capacity for learning. Nicholas Culpeper, in his 1653 work, The Complete Herbal, noted its capacity to ‘heal the head and the brain’ and its role in cognition and memory.
Sage contains 160 phytochemicals. A number have been identified as aids in enhancing mental clarity and memory. The primary one is rosmarinic acid and 1,8 cineoloe, camphor, carnosic acid and caffeic acid play a role. Together, they form a powerful ‘phytochemical cocktail’ (2) for the mind.
The phytochemicals in sage improve cognition by inhibiting an enzyme called acetylcholinesterase that breaks down acetylcholine (a primary neurotransmitter that enables your brain to communicate with your body). By protecting acetylcholine, sage supports the body-mind connection.
It also boosts levels of brain-derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF). This plays an essential role in neurogenesis (creating new neurons) and synaptogenesis (creating new connections between neurons). This bolsters brain power and improves neuroplasticity, making the mind more flexible.
Sage also prevents neuro-inflammation by repressing inflammatory cytokines.
Like parsley, it, too, is an anti-diabetic. It works like the drug, metformin, lowering blood sugar by reducing the amount of glucose produced by the liver.
Like its kindred, sage is also associated with both love and death. It was used to deodorise corpses and was thrown and planted on graves. Growing a sage bush in the garden enhanced fertility and young women picked a sage leaf on Midsummer or New Year’s eve to see a vision of their future husband.
Clary sage, (Salvia sclarea from the Latin sclareia ‘clear’), referred to by Nicholas Culpeper as ‘clear-eye sage’, was also used to enhance mental clarity and intuitive insight and might have inspired visions of the Otherworld.
Rosemary – Remember me
Do you remember my scent, the dew of a faraway sea that froths and chaffs its lament? Do you remember me?
The name rosemary, Salvia rosmarinus, derives from the Latin ros ‘dew’ and marinus ‘sea’, providing it with the lovely very poetic name ‘dew of the sea’. This relates to it growing in the rocky coastal regions of the Mediterranean.
Its strongest associations are with memory. Greek and Roman students wore crowns of rosemary to aid their memory during examinations. Nicholas Culpeper notes that it ‘helps a weak memory and quickens the senses.’ In Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Ophelia laments, ‘there’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.’
Rosemary’s memory enhancing properties come from rosmarinic acid. Thus, it works in a similar way to sage, inhibiting acetylcholine re-uptake, raising levels of BDNF, and reducing inflammation and oxidative stress in the brain.
It also inhibits the build-up of amyloid-beta proteins, which form a plaque, cause neuro-inflammation and induce the spread of abnormal tau proteins, destroying brain cells. This process leads to Alzheimer’s. By preventing beta-amyloids from building up, rosemary protects our memory.
Like its kin it has associations with death. It has been used in embalming fluids, as a deodorant, and sprigs of rosemary were carried by Greek and Roman mourners in funeral processions. It is still used in funeral wreaths and arrangements today, for example on Elizabeth II’s funeral casket.
Similarly, in relation to love, it is worn in bridal headpieces and used in wedding bouquets. It was also added to wine for the toast. Sleeping with a sprig beneath the pillow could lead to a dream of one’s future spouse.
‘Remember me to one who lived there’.
It seems a fitting herb for recalling memories of a lover.
Thyme – Have Courage
You visit me on a misty morning. A sprig of thyme. A heap of leaves. I hold you in my hand. You hold me. Together we watch the passing of time. I see my smallness and my potency. That I am merely an instrument in the hand of a greater force.
Great thyme, mighty spirit, grant me the courage to do the will of my God.
The term ‘thyme’ originates from the Latin, thymos, ‘courage’. It has been associated with courage since ancient times. The Romans bathed in waters scented with thyme and added it to their wine before going into battle. Medieval women gifted knights a sprig of thyme to enhance their courage.
From very early in our relationship, I have given Vindos / Gwyn a sprig of thyme for courage on May morning before He goes to fight His rival, Vitiris / Gwythyr.
Thyme contains two phytochemicals that might bolster courage – thymol and cavacrol. Thymol has protective qualities. It is antibacterial and antiseptic and works by destroying the bacterial cell membrane leading to cell death. It has thus been used in mouthwashes and for disinfecting minor wounds.
Cavacrol is a natural anti-anxiety drug. It works by increasing the levels of serotonin and dopamine (mood stabilisers) in the brain. It does this by inhibiting re-uptake transporters and monoamine oxidase enzymes that break them down. It also neuro-protective. As an antioxidant, it shields dopaminergic and serotoninergic neurons from oxidative stress. This leads to a greater availability of feel good chemicals which make us feel more courageous.
Thyme shares similarities with its kin in its use around death and love. Additionally, the souls of the dead were said to go into thyme flowers. Patches of thyme were associated with the fairies and it could help you see them.
William Blake said: “The Wild Thyme is Los’s Messenger to Eden, a mighty Demon.” This conveys the hidden power of this familiar plant.
A Message from Vindos
The message I have received from Vindos through these plants is, ‘relax, clear your mind, remember me, have courage’. His advice, along with these herbs, is helping me to stay strong through the summer in His absence.
I am spending time with these herbs and cooking with them. Adding parsley to salads. Making sauces and marinades from sage, rosemary and thyme.
Maybe, just maybe, I am becoming a little more relaxed, wiser and more courageous.
SOURCES
Halat, D. et al, ‘A Focused Insight into Thyme: Biological, Chemical, and Therapeutic Properties of an Indigenous Mediterranean Herb’, Nutrients, May 2022 Lopresti, A., ‘Salvia (Sage): A Review of its Potential Cognitive-Enhancing and Protective Effects’, Cross Mark, November 2016 Mussilo et al, ‘Rosmarinic Acid Improves Cognitive Abilities and Glucose Metabolism in Aged C57Bl/6N Mice While Disrupting Lipid Profile in Young Adults in a Sex-Dependent Fashion’, Nutrition, July 2023 Niisato, N., Marunaka, M., ‘Therapeutic potential of multifunctional myricetin for treatment of type 2 diabetes mellitus’, Frontiers, May 2023 Sedgwick, I., Icy Sedgwick Folklore Blog, https://www.icysedgwick.com/category/folklore/
“The sanctuary is a place not a product,” says Vindos.
That’s easy for Him to say when He’s the King of Annwn. From the heights of His golden throne. When He’s got all the treasures of Annwn arrayed around Him. Heaps of golden coins. Plates. Cups. A horn of ever-flowing mead. A cauldron that feeds a kingdom of fair folk and all the dead who ever walked there.
He who has no fear of hunger. He who has no fear of thirst. He whose four-cornered fortress belongs to Him, is part of Him, requires no mortgage nor rent.
And it’s not as if I live in poverty. By the generosity of my parents, I have a roof over my head, enough to eat, a lovely garden where I grow wildflowers.
But I won’t be able to live here forever. The day will come when I must stand on my own two feet. When I must earn my living. My shamanic work is paying far better than my writing ever did but still is not enough to live off.
I take a business course. I learn some useful things. I get pulled back towards the drive to endless productivity, endless growth, attempt to go back on social media and laughably end up faced with multiple dead ends. I’m banned from Facebook and Instagram. I refuse to go on X. I try Linkedin. It’s corporate, soulless, the Land of the Vampires. Drained, I make my escape.
“The sanctuary is a place not a product,” says Vindos. He tells me to embody sanctuary and this is not possible when I’m selling my soul. “Start at home. Heal yourself, heal your relationships, only then will others come for healing.”
Start at home. Do the moneyless work. Heal my own wounds. My relationship with this place, with my family, with my ancestors. A lifetime’s work.
“Do your soulwork,” he says. “It will pay, if not in this life, in the next or the next.”
“And as for the sanctuary?”
“Between you and I and those who come it will take shape.”
The mid-summer solstice is approaching and the first fruits are beginning to ripen. As we approach the longest day and shortest night, when time stands still, this is the perfect opportunity to take a little time out for yourself to consult with your spirit guides and to check in about what you have grown and harvested so far.
Over this period, from now until the end of June, I am going to be offering discount shamanic guidance sessions. You will get 1/3 off. This means a reduction from £30 to £20. They are an hour long and can take place in-person or online.
Sessions can include:
*An introduction to shamanism covering the shamanic drumbeat, intention setting, departure points and journeying to the Lower World, Upper World and Middle World. *Connecting with spirits such as animal spirit guides, power animals, spirit teachers, tree and plant allies, land spirits and ancestors. *How to build a personal shamanic practice and integrate it into everyday life. *Troubleshooting problems such as resistance, feeling blocked, lack of confidence and motivation, sleepiness, difficulties tuning in and developing the ‘clair’ senses. *Divinatory journeys to provide guidance on life issues. *Tarot and oracle card readings with an optional shamanic journey. *Building relationships with Brythonic Gods and spirits including the fairies. *Journeying to explore Brythonic mythology and folklore.
For a free informal discussion contact: thesanctuaryofvindos@gmail.com
Sarah Presley is a meditation teacher and author based in Bristol. Her book, Making Friends With Yourself: A Practical Guide on How Meditation Can Take You From Overwhelm to An Inner Calm, is part memoir and part practical guide.
Presley shares her journey ‘from illness to wellness’. She speaks of how she came to suffer from ME and resulting anxiety and depression due to a high pressure job. She then goes on the describe her discovery of meditation and how this enabled her to establish a sense of calm and formed the ground for her recovery, leading to a successful career as a holistic practitioner and meditation teacher and to co-running the British School of Meditation.
Presley provides an account of why she meditates and how meditation can help others, including the science. She then shares some of the foundational forms of meditation along with her favourites, documents how they have helped her, and shares guided meditations for the audience to read and listen to (there are audio links to her website included). The forms of meditation include: breath awareness, mantra, body scan, guided visualisation, mindful movement, loving-kindness and gratitude.
In her introduction to meditation, Presley talks about how she was initially resisted it because of her preconceived idea it meant silencing the mind and only calm people can do it (this is very common). Once she gave it a go she discovered: ‘we are not attempting to silence the inner dialogue. We are instead offering the mind something on which to focus which allows us to be in the present moment. This could be your breath, your body, a word, a phrase, an image, a movement, or an object.’ Distractions are normal. Noticing and returning to the focus is ‘the art of meditation.’
Later in the book, she talks of thoughts as our ‘friends’ and shares ways of recognising, labelling and coming to gain a witness perspective on them. Throughout, a non-judgemental attitude to thoughts and emotions is advocated.
As an autistic person who struggles with anxiety, I related strongly to Presley’s words on this subject. She speaks of how naming and fearing her anxiety perpetuated her panic and of how meditation gave her the space to be able to view her anxiety and its effects on her mind and body from an observer’s perspective. This led her to changing its name to ‘Mavis’, giving it less power.
‘Giving anxiety a new name now meant I could view the part of myself which was feeling anxious and scared. I would be more aware of when Mavis was arriving and be able to engage the rational part of my brain to ask if the situation I was in required a visit from her. Or even if she had already stormed in, I was able to ride out her visit knowing she would be leaving soon after. After all, she was just doing her best job to protect me from what she perceived as danger. I realised the overwhelming feeling of panic wasn’t attempting to trip me up but instead was giving me something I could use to learn and grow. Most importantly, I accepted and made peace with Mavis being in my life.’
As a shamanic practitioner, I understand how dis-identifying from anxiety, viewing it as a part of oneself with a distinctive and unique personality with a function and needs, and accepting it as part of one’s life can be helpful.
Presley goes on to share how mantra has been a big help in dealing with anxiety. When she first came across meditation and the mantra ‘Om’, she experienced a ‘a huge amount of resistance to repeating’ it due to cliched media portrayals. Instead, she chose the words ‘happy, healthy and strong’.
Presley describes how ‘mantra’, from man ‘mind’ and ‘tra’ vehicle is a ‘mind vehicle’ ‘you use to replace your thoughts’. Likewise, I have sometimes found, when I’m hyper-stimulated, anxious, or overwhelmed, more focused meditation doesn’t work and the only thing that can cut through the racing traffic of my thoughts is a single juggernaut-like thought or word – mantra.
Presley also deals with worry and anger. For worry she recommends guided visualisation (or guided experiencing) and provides a lovely meditation where ‘worry’ is written on a pebble and then discarded on a beach. For anger, which can often be locked in the body in the form of myofascial knots (I am oh so familiar with these!), she prescribes mindful movement. She also explains how loving-kindness helps alter our neural pathways and heals the heart.
This is a very lovely, personable and practical book that teaches all a new-comer needs to know about meditation and provides some interesting facts and personal anecdotes that will be valuable to experienced meditators too. Its strengths lie in the knowledgeable and compassionate approach taken to using meditation to help deal with difficult emotions – a territory Presley charts well. I would recommend it to all people who are interested in or already practice meditation and to those who are struggling with similar issues.
You can buy this book from Sarah Presley’s website HERE.
Let your soul rest gently as a butterfly on my chest
One of my practices during the heat and noise of summer is journeying to the Otherworld, where Vindos / Gwyn sleeps as Winter King, and finding rest with Him in His tomb in the Castle of Cold Stone.
On the Challenges of Shaping Sanctuary in Shamanic Practice
My relationship with my home hasn’t always been one of sanctuary. Some days, it still isn’t. I recognise the irony that as soon as I decide to offer some shamanic guidance on the subject, my mum’s ceiling starts leaking, and it turns out we need a new roof and have roofers banging on the roof for two weeks!
The term ‘sanctuary’ didn’t have much meaning for me when I was young. The first time I started thinking about it was when I watched the Disney film, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, where Esmerelda knocks on the doors of the cathedral crying, “Sanctuary, please give me sanctuary.” Thus, I came to associate sanctuary with churches and cathedrals. Places I felt banned from because I neither worshipped nor felt any connection with the Christian God.
Still, home was a safe place. The only safe place. Safe from school. Safe from the bullies (although I always feared they would follow me home). There, I could hole myself up in my room with my Playmobile riding school, with a fantasy book, with a new story to write, with characters from it to draw. Unfortunately, it was a place where I shut myself away with chocolate too.
I’ve lived in this very same house, in Penwortham, Lancashire, since I was four years old. Only a few times, briefly, have I attempted to move away. The walls recall every single one of my temper tantrums, every argument with my parents, every time I stuffed my anger and despair down with food. They held me through those times. They stood there without judgement.
They held me through my difficult teen years when I blu-tacked onto them posters of Jon Bon Jovi, Guns N Roses, the Manic Street Preachers, David Bowie, Pink Floyd, Joy Division, Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails. As I hung them with feather boas and filled my room with glitter and balloons. As my taste in music and my life got darker, they bore witness to me smoking cigarettes and joints out of my window and my heavy drinking and self-harm.
Their holding of me largely went unacknowledged. I was far too caught up in my own world, my own pain, to be aware of anything or anyone else.
This began to change when I discovered Paganism and Druidry. When I began to tentatively reach out for relationship with the other-than-human world. I’d long been able to perceive spirits, but, as someone with an overactive imagination, was unsure how to discern what was real and what was not. It turned out I needed to stop asking that question and trust my imaginal faculties (which have long been denigrated in the Western world).
I made contact with the guardian of this patch of land who has been here long before the houses were built. I made a clay statuette of him and began making offerings of butter. However, these went icky and didn’t feel right. Although this is a traditional offering, I’m not sure that my dad’s Morrison’s Unsalted Butter had the same meaning as homemade butter made from one’s own cow milk in pre-industrial times. I’ve tried leaving processed milk at the bottom of the garden, but that was messy and smelt bad. So, I’ve settled for prayers and attention, and that seems to be enough.
In spite of making contact with our guardian spirit and setting up an altar to my Gods and local spirits in my bedroom, my relationship with our house as a whole wasn’t good. Outside of my room, I didn’t feel it was truly ‘my home’. It didn’t cross my mind that relationship doesn’t equate to ownership.
Although I was religious and devoted to my Gods and spirits in many ways, totally offered myself in service to Them through my creativity and devotional practices, my relationship with my home and my parents was very poor. I spent much of my time shut away, drinking and writing, living my life through the Pagan and Polytheist blogosphere, ignoring the reality around me.
My parents didn’t take much care of the house either. My mum kept it clean and did a little painting, but largely, no decorating was done since we moved in. We live in a damp area near to a drained off mossland (Penwortham Moss). Damp was coming through the walls. There was mould in the bathroom.
“You don’t speak very good house speak,” I was told by our guardian spirit.
Soon afterwards, Covid struck. By this time I’d realised I was never going to make a living as a Brythonic polytheist author and was attempting to volunteer my way into conservation work. My work parties were called off. With nothing else to do, I turned my eyes to the house and garden. I took carloads of my parents’ accumulations to the Recycling Centre. I deep-cleaned. I began to tackle the damp and the mould but dared not touch the bathroom.
This changed a year later, coinciding with the arrival of a birthday present – Dver’s Mycorrhizal Dionysus. The day it arrived, the mould began to spore. I donned a mask and a hazmat suit and managed to remove it from the walls and stripped off the painted wall paper, taking it right back to the plaster. (What kind of idiot puts up wall paper in a bathroom then paints over it?). This took me over three days and another three days to apply anti-mould paint.
It wasn’t the last time the hazmat suit was required. We have a crumbling Artex ceiling in our dining room that I was forced to patch up and paint over.
In all honesty, I didn’t work in relationship with the house very well. I was far too angry with my parents for the years of neglect and this coloured my work.
Yet, when it came to decorating, I did ask what it wanted and listened to its replies. House speak is a bit different to communicating with a guardian spirit. The spirit of my house doesn’t appear in anthropomorphic form. Our communication takes place more through the felt sense, through groans and creaks, through visible signs. And, of course, events, like a leak or the gutter falling down. I got a feel for what colours it wanted then integrated this with my mum’s desires. (My dad refused to accept we needed to decorate at all).
Over the past few years, I have re-decorated nearly the whole house. Two years ago, I did my room. As I got rid of the old chest of drawers and wardrobe, replacing them with my great grandmother’s chest of drawers (I’d downsized my clothing), I felt a sense of release from the past. Those wooden beings had borne witness to all my bad habits. They were thanked and taken to be recycled. As I cleaned and painted the walls, which were grubby with smoke from when I smoked and from my candles, I felt the darkness from past years lifting, their breathing anew. The new carpet was so thick and luxurious after the old one I rolled around it like a horse on a new bed (an impromptu ritual it seemed to appreciate). I remade my altar and reconsecrated ‘the sanctuary’. The atmosphere has been lighter since.
I’ve done a lot of work in the garden too but that’s another story I won’t go into here. What is being asked of me now by my Gods and spirits is that I be aware and present as I go about the house. Treat it all as a sanctuary. That I embody sanctuary. That my embodiment of sanctuary is reflected in my everyday relationships with my house and with my parents.
This is the core of my current work. It’s very different to when I was doing deeper trance work and writing drunkenly and having lots of visionary experiences. One might say I have become very boring. On the outside, that is true for sure, but on the inside I have grown a lot in terms of recognising and challenging my bad habits and become a safer, more compassionate person.
The shaping of the Sanctuary of Vindos remains a work in progress. It is one that requires co-operation between myself, Vindos, the Spirit of the Sanctuary, my room, our house, and my parents.
My meditation practices have helped me to regulate my nervous system better, but I’m still anxious, stressy and irritable. I have come to accept, as the Buddhists say, these seeds will likely always be strong within me. I am learning to water them less and to water calmness and gratitude more.
Life continues to have its ups and downs. Some days, I come close to living, breathing and embodying sanctuary. Sometimes, it feels as far away as the moon.
Whether a time will come when I feel worthy of offering ‘shaping sanctuary’ sessions I remain unsure. I would be interested to hear about the experiences of others of creating sacred space and ways of being amidst the complexities and the difficulties of the everyday world in their spiritual practice.
