Some brief thoughts.
John Michael Greer has an open thread post up on his blog this week. One of the topics, driven by recent tragic events, is violence – and, specifically, male violence. This overlaps with some of the themes of this blog, which spurs me to write something quickly – both to capture my thought processes, and to be able to put a link in a comment over there before his blog rolls over to a new week’s discussion. Since I’m writing quickly, I won’t be putting in as many links to supporting material as usual, and I want to emphasise that this is me thinking aloud and trying to form some understanding of the topic: it should not be read as my definitive views on the topic. My thinking begins with a famous broken femur.
I don’t have much to add to this, but I’m delighted to see that a documentary has been made about Wilf Davies, the Welsh farmer whom I’ve written about here and here. It will be shown at the Tribeca Film Festival in New York later this year, after being selected from more than 7,000 submissions. As I wrote in my first post, something about Wilf’s serene simplicity and rootedness in his community and natural environment has made an impact, reminding us of fundamentals, and that there is another way of living that is healthier than our (post-)modern busyness and confusion. I hope he’s ready to be famous, and that this will have only positive effects on his life.
As I’ve made clear, this blog is my process of exploring the writings of Iolo Morganwg in Barddas, the source of contemporary Revival Druidry, and trying to put it into modern terms as a system firmly rooted in the authentic Welsh cultural tradition.
That means going beyond Barddas itself: recognising that the Four Branches of the Mabinogi contain a pantheon of ancient Brythonic deities, for example. My experience is that they exist; they are real, and represent real powers. Barddas, however, comes from Iolo’s spiritual insights, rooted in a Christian background, and his writings are full of references to God. Can these things be reconciled? I believe that they can.
As today is the first day of the year, I decided to follow John Beckett’s example, and conduct a divination for 2022 using the question “What does the new year hold for me and mine?”. As he says, the closer you are to me, the more this will apply to you and, since you are reading this, there is at least a weak connection.
It’s New Year’s Day, and I haven’t written anything here for months. The key word there is “here”: I’ve been writing a lot elsewhere. I would like to say “I have been writing a book”, but that isn’t how it’s been working out. Rather, I can only say “A book has been using me to get itself written”.
As recent posts have suggested, I’ve been thinking about the topic of suffering – and how Druidry deals with suffering. It’s something we all need to be thinking about, to be honest. We’re entering a time of major change. We’ve known for decades that climate change, resource depletion, and debt posed catastrophic threats to our way of life, and we have completely failed to prepare. Life is already hard for too many people; the unpalatable truth is that it will soon get much worse.
I wrote recently about how moved I was by an article in the Guardian, in which journalist Kiran Sidhu wrote about Welsh farmer, Wilf Davies.
A Celt and a Saxon would agree that of the colour of the sea, the colour of ivy leaves, and the colour of an Ovate’s robe, two belong together and one is different. They would, however, disagree on what the two are.