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Post by wren on Aug 26, 2006 9:21:03 GMT -5
Keeping the Hearth (from 'The Mist-Filled Path' by Frank MacEowen) It was in winter that the islanders gathered round the hearth fire to listen to stories. Harvest was gathered in. The ears that had listened only to necessary farming and fishing words all the year of toil and ripening were ready for more ancient images and rhythms. A tongue here and there was touched to enchantment by starlight and peat flame ~ George Mackay Brown, Winter Tales The heart is the heart of the Celtic home. There is a very old tradition of burning turf, or dried earth, for warmth and cooking in the hearth. The hearth also serves as a gathering place for community, family and friends, a fact that may hint at a link between two Gaelic words: teallach (hearth) and teallagh (family). The heart is a place where stories are told before the start of a day and at the day’s conclusion. From the sound of the fiddle to the giggles of boiling teakettle splattering on stones to a fresh loaf of homemade bread being pulled from the fire: the hearth is a hub of activity in the Celtic world, ancient and modern. In the Celtic tradition, the hearth is the heart of the family, both biological and spiritual. Traditionally, the hearth is a site where the Celtic family gathers for both physical nourishment (for cooking and eating) and for spiritual nourishment (storytelling, spiritual reading, prayer and healing). It is widely understood in the Celtic world that the hearth is a sacred place. It is a practical, yet spiritual, epicenter of Celtic culture. Heaven and earth are enjoined in this single place within the home. Nourishment of the body and nourishment of the soul become interconnected; a spiritual cosmos is born and sustained. In Celtic spiritual practices, the hearth may be an actual hearth or fireplace in the home, spoken of by some as an altair teallach (hearth altar or hearth shrine), or it may be a traveling bundle of sacred objects connected to the hearth that are used to create the hearth away from home. In Celtic traditions it is a sacred role to maintain the hearth of the home. This holy role as been generally reserved for women. I (the author) feel that it is through reclaiming the sacredness of the hearth in our homes and honoring once again the role of the hearth keeper that the sacred standing of women can be restored in our culture. Likewise, it is in the practical and spiritual usage of the hearth that we restore a place of holiness within our homes and families. To work with the hearth in the Celtic way of being is to invite very ancient energies, sacred energies, back into our homes and into the rhythms of our lives. An ancient spirit of nourishment begins to dwell at the hearth when it is invited in and worked with daily. It is, to use Tom Cowan’s term, a ‘sheltering spirit.’ In the maternal side of the family, the sheltering spirit of the hearth and hearth altars that we work with is Brighid. We feel her and know her as one of the many sheltering spirits of the human soul and the soul of the land. This perception of the hearth and the heath keeper is a most ancient and holy one. It isn’t ‘playing house’ but an empowered role often centered in the home. In any case, many hearth keepers today are living ambassadors of a fire they associate with Brighid’s hearth, making them soothers of the heart and keepers of the earth.
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Post by wren on Aug 26, 2006 9:30:58 GMT -5
The Need-Fire It is becoming increasingly rare for the hearth to play such a central role, but there are certainly still families in Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Cornwall, Brittany, Orkney, Shetland and the Isle of Man who's mornings and evenings are oriented to hearth time. The practice of covering over the embers for the night is called smooring in Gaelic and the fire that is rekindled in the morning from the same embers is called the need-fire. Celtic culture and the associated spiritual traditions are like this ancient fire. In time the traditions and fullness of culture were eclipsed by institutionalized religion and the political agendas of imperialist goverments. In post-Culloden era Scotland (1746- ), for instance, cultural elements such as tartan, the bagpipes, and Gaelic would be officially outlawed by the British Crown in a final attempt at genocide. Even earlier earth-honoring practices and customs would have to go into hiding. Visiting certain holy wells, faery trees and groves was actively discouraged by the Church. With these elements of cultural and spiritual sould under attack, the result was inevitable. The Celtic Way was smoored. In one expression of cultural loss, the embers of our ancient fires were slowly but surely forced to be covered over, with many families continuing the earth-honoring practices of their ancestors in secret, consciously concealing these from the watchful eyes of the Church. Now is the time for us to rekindle our spiritual fires, for our lives to be fanned into flame from the ancient spark of the traditions that were smoored and concealed until such time as they could return.
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Post by wren on Aug 26, 2006 9:39:50 GMT -5
The Hearth as Otherwordly Doorway Another powerful aspect of the hearth in the Celtic tradition is its presence as an otherworldly doorway. Similar to how some altomesayoq shamans of the Inca tradition 'source their souls' in their altars or perform a soul flight through them, so too can we use the teallach, the hearth, as such a doorway. The harth, as an altar, is a threshold in the home. Physically, the fireplace is a passageway that leads from the inerior of the home to the outside. It is a place ofmixing elements as well: fire, water in the kettle, air in the form of smoke, earth placed on the embers in the form of turf. the entire universe is right there in the hearth. The hearth represents the in-between within the home, similar to how other then places exist in nature. Sometimes people travel from 'this side' to 'that side' using the hearth. At other times people on this side receive visitations... Any time we take time out of our routine to sit in silence we invite the holy. If you are a musician or poet, the imbas or awen (diving imspiration) comes. If you are a Druid, a whole host of impressions, memories and tachings from the spirits, as well as the presence of ancestors, may draw near. If you are a worn-out human being who as experienced fifty-two weeks of rushing to work so that you can pay the bills, sitting in silence can sometimes be akin to a maternal massage. Sitting heals. Silence heals... (end quote from book)
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Post by wren on Aug 26, 2006 9:46:13 GMT -5
I do not have a fireplace in my home. I have set up my 'hearth' on an old metal mapcase which was my father's, a personal connection to him. It's large top holds my ancestor box, my daily offerings of water, salt, cornmeal and incense. There is also picture I drew which is special to me, a corn dolly I made with my daughter to honor the ancestors of the land on which we live, and a crow's feather I found in my path. I light a candle and incense each morning (my need-fire) while I offer my morning meditation to the Ancestors, Nature Spirits and Deities. I ask Their blessings on my family and my home, as well as making those small offerings. I have no fire to stoke or smoor but I can take the light of that candle with me through my day and my family knows that one spot is there for anyone who needs it.
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