Brigid

robinlandseadel at comcast.net robinlandseadel at comcast.net
Sun Feb 3 10:16:45 CST 2008


                      That someday, delivered at last
                      from this terrifying vision,
                      I might sing out in praise and
                      jubilation unto approving angels;
                      that no single tone shall fail
                      to sound due to a slack,
                      a doubtful or a broken string
                      when clearly struck by
                      the hammer of my heart;
                      that my joyful face
                      might stream with radiance
                      and these hidden tears at last
                      erupt in blossoms fully blown,
                      I must learn to hold these
                      nights of anguish dear!
                      O Sisters Of Lament,
                      why did I not kneel
                      more lowly to receive you-
                      surrender myself more fully
                      to your loose and flowing hair?
                      We are wastrels of our sorrows,
                      gazing beyond them into the
                      desolate reaches of endurance
                      where we seek to know their ends.
                      They are but our winter foliage,
                      our somber evergreen,
                      a single season of our inner year;
                      nor season only, but land,
                      colony, storehouse,
                      floor and residence.~

You ask, is this P or NP. I say it's Rilke, therefore. . . .

"If you want compairisons, which you don't, I think most of Rilke."
Thomas Pynchon, in a letter to Richard Farina.*

                      It is certain, alas,
                      that we are strangers
                      to the alleys of the
                      City of Sorrow, where
                      in the falsified silence
                      born of continual clatter,
                      the mold of emptiness ejects
                      a strutting figure: the gilded din,
                      the exploding memorial.
                      O, with what finality
                      would an angel trample to dust
                      their marketplace of consolation,
                      bounded by the church with its
                      off-the-rack indulgences: as
                      tidy, dull and shut tight
                      as a post office on Sunday.
                      Outside, always, curls
                      the edge of the carnival.
                      Swings of freedom!
                      High divers and
                      dedicated jugglers!
                      And cosmeticized fortune's
                      metaphoric shooting gallery
                      whose tin targets clang and
                      spin when struck by some
                      marksman's chance shot-
                      who, dizzy with applause,
                      seeking further luck,
                      stumbles down the midway
                      where diverse attractions
                      seduce, drum and hawk their wares.
                      For adults only-a special attraction:
                      graphic reproduction of currency!
                      Titillating! The sex life of money,
                      in the nude, gonads and all,
                      before your very eyes-
                      educational and guaranteed
                      to enhance your virility....
                      Beyond the last billboard-
                      plastered with ads for "Deathless,"
                      the bitter beer, sweet
                      to those who drink it
                      (so long as they nibble fresh
                      distractions between sips)-
                      behind the billboard,
                      just to the rear: the real world.
                      Children play and lovers touch,
                      off to the side,
                      intent in the thin grass,
                      while dogs do as nature bids.
                      A youth is drawn further on,
                      enamoured of a young Lament.
                      Into the fields he follows-
                      "Beyond," says she,
                      "far distant do we dwell!"
                      "Where?" he inquires,
                      by her bearing swayed.
                      Her shoulder, her neck,
                      bespeak a noble origin.
                      Anon he leaves her;
                      turns...waves.
                      What's the use?
                      She is a lament.

Where I'm coming from, mostly, is the Reclaiming Tradition [funny to call 
something so new a tradition, but remember: we reclaimed it from older 
mines]. On account of so many of that set of shared concepts circles 
around and comes from Starhawk, and as Brigid/Imbloc is happening now,
her thoughts would be of value right about now:

           On Prayer at Brigid
           Feb. 1 is Brigid Eve, the beginning of one of the major festivals 
           of the year for Witches, sacred to the ancient Celtic Goddess of 
           the holy well and the sacred flame, who presides over the forge, 
           over poetry and healing. And its also a full moon, when we 
           Witches believe the great energies of creativity and fruition flood 
           the earth. So it’s a good time to think about prayer. ^

                      Only those who died young,
                      in the primordial equanimity
                      of their weaning,
                      follow her lovingly.
                      She waits for maidens
                      and befriends them,
                      gently shows them
                      her attire: pearls
                      of sorrow and veils
                      fine-spun of patience.
                      Alongside young men
                      she walks in silence.

           Witches and Pagans sing, chant, dance, drum and get wild in 
           our rituals. All are forms of prayer, forms of communication with 
           the Mysterious Ones, the great energies of birth, growth, death 
           and regeneration that go beyond our limited understanding.

                      Beyond, in the valley
                      where they dwell, an
                      elderly Lament fondly indulges
                      a youth who questions her.
                      "Once," she tells him, "we were
                      a great family, we Laments.
                      Our fathers worked the mines
                      of yon mountain range.
                      Among men you still might find,
                      at times, a polished lump
                      of original sorrow-or a nugget
                      of petrified rage from the slag
                      of some ancient volcano.
                      Aye, from yonder range it came.
                      We once were wealthy."

           Prayer is what mediates between our human minds and that 
           which we cannot envision or even imagine. When we talk about 
           a specific Goddess, such as Brigid, we are talking about a particular 
           constellation of energies, imagery, myth and history. When we focus 
           our minds on Brigid, when we pray to her, we awaken those same 
           energies within us and around us: fire and water, passion and 
           compassion, healing and inspiration.

                      And lightly she leads him through
                      the spacious landscape of Lament,
                      shows him the pillars of the temples
                      and the crumbled towers from which,
                      in olden days, the Lords of Lament
                      so wisely ruled... shows him the
                      tall trees of tears and the fields
                      of woe full flowered
                      (such woe as the living know
                      only as a shrub unbudded);
                      shows him the herds of grief
                      where they stand grazing.
                      Once in awhile a startled bird,
                      darting through their skyward gaze,
                      inscribes its lonely cry upon the clouds.
                      At dusk she leads him to the graves
                      of the sibyls and dire prophets-
                      of all the Lords of Lament
                      the longest lived.

           In my community, we gathered Friday night, (Brigid’s festival 
           spans Feb. 1 and 2) to light candles, offer sacred water, and 
           make a pledge to Brigid for the year. Hearing and witnessing 
           each others’ pledges, we support our intentions to grow, to 
           change, to act in the world with more love and more beneficent 
           power. Our prayers are to the Goddess—but also to our 
           community, for the Goddess is immanent in us and in the 
           relationships between us.

                      As night lowers, their steps slacken
                      and soon, rising like the moon,
                      the Guardian Sepulchre is seen,
                      kin to the Sphinx of Nile fame,
                      lofty in cavernous countenance.
                      They marvel at the regal head
                      which silently presents the human
                      face to be weighed upon the
                      scale of the stars, eternally.

           When Ireland became Catholic, Brigid became a Saint. The 
           Feast of Candlemas honors her fire, and today, nuns have 
           relit her sacred fiame at Kildare. To all who celebrate her 
           festival, to all whose hearts grow lighter as the sun grows 
           stronger and the days get visibly longer, bright blessings!

                      His sight cannot grasp it,
                      giddy still from early death,
                      but her's startles an owl from
                      behind the rim of the crown,
                      who brushes the rounder of
                      his cheeks, leaving a faint
                      impression upon the new
                      hearing born of his death;
                      an indescribable outline
                      scrawled as though across
                      the leaves of an open book.

My first encounter with Rilke came when I first Read Gravity's Rainbow and it 
left a deep impression me, perhaps the deepest of any that Pynchon's 
writings left me. I do not see a system in Rilke's callings, only a desire, a 
cry of the heart, the soul's deep callings, as clear as a child's call for mother.

                      And higher, the stars. New.
                      Stars of the Land of Lament.
                      Slowly the elder names their names:
                      "Look there: the Rider, the Staff,
                      and that larger constellation
                      they call the Fruit Garland.
                      Higher still, toward the Pole,
                      the Cradle, the Path, the
                      Burning Book, the Doll, the Window.
                      In the southern sky,
                      clearcut as the lines within
                      a consecrated hand,
                      sparkles the luminous M
                      denoting Mothers."

                      But the dead must away
                      and silently the Elder Lament
                      leads him as far as the Arroyo,
                      where gleaming in the moonlight
                      springs the source of joy.
                      With reverence she names it,
                      saying: "Endlessly it flows
                      into the world of men."

Bridgit is the first bud, the "white track", the first cherry blosoms, the first 
rays of the new re-arising life, earth's great awakening [leastaways if you 
live above a given latitude in the northern hemisphere], a cause for deep 
celebration, or maybe even throwing a mammoth party, like Mardi Gras.

                      They stand at the mountain's foot.
                      Weeping, she embraces him.

These are the tears of early spring, from the source of joy, the rider-waite ace 
of cups:

http://www.246.dk/Ptar-c01.jpg

                      Alone, he starts his climb
                      up the peak of Primal Pain.
                      Not once do his footsteps echo
                      from this soundless path of fate.
                      Were the endlessly dead
                      to awaken some symbol,
                      within us, to indicate
                      themselves, they might
                      point to the catkins
                      dangling from the leafless
                      branches of the Hazel trees.
                      Or speak in drops of rain
                      falling to dark earth
                      in early spring.

                      Then we,
                      who have known joy
                      only as it escapes us,
                      rising to the sky,
                      would receive the
                      overwhelming benediction
                      of happiness descending. ~

~This is Robert Hunter's translation of Rilke's 10th Duino Elegy, from:
http://www.hunterarchive.com/fileS/Poetry/Elegies/elegy10.html
As much as I love Stephen Mitchell's translation, Robert Hunter 
speaks to me on another level.
http://www.hunterarchive.com/fileS/Poetry/Elegies/Duino_Elegies.html

*From "Positively 4th Street" [pg. 271], David Hajdu, ISBN 086547642

^ I suppose the Difference between Starhawk and most other practioneers 
of the old religion is that the mainstream press regards her as intellectually 
credible, at least enough to be regualrly published in the New York Times 
and Newsweek, a bar Scott Cunningham and Z. Budapest have yet to leap 
over. This lovely article on Brigid comes from Newsweek's archives at:
http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/starhawk/2007/02/

Starhawk's "Dreaming the Dark" is the most intelligent examination of the 
moral and karmic responsibility of Earth-centered religions I have read:

http://tinyurl.com/2sr25b



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