Lughnasadh is the beginning of the harvest and spans the six weeks leading up to the Autumn Equinox. It is the time to celebrate the first fruits, the fields of barley growing under the warm summer sun, and honour the generosity and gifts of the earth. Lughnasadh means ‘the commemoration of Lugh’ – Lugh is the Irish solar god of justice and skill. Lugh declared that there should be a feast on this day in honour of his foster mother, the goddess Tailtiu. She cleared the plains of Ireland so that the people could begin to grow crops, and she died as a result of her hard work. Tailtiu asked Lugh to hold games in her honour every August, prophesizing that as long as the games were held there would be ‘corn and milk in every house’.
Key Themes
Cross quarter
the first harvest
birthing
Celebrating and honouring
abundance
contests
prowess
pride
accomplishment
first fruits
community
deeds and achievements
parenthood
responsibility
warriorhood
the wild earth
The name Tailtiu is probably derived from Talantiu, which means ‘the great one of the earth’. Lughnasadh has an even older Gaelic name: Bron Trogain, meaning ‘the sorrows (or sacrifice) of the earth’ – a term connected with the labour pains of childbirth, and suggesting that the life-giving abundance of nature was honoured at this time, together with the precious agricultural skills that transform this abundance into crops and livestock.
At Lughnasadh the soul comes into maturity, just as the earth herself does. Honouring the goddess Tailtiu at this time means honouring her as Mother, the life-giver, and this gift is an act of great sacrifice on her part. As we see with the story of Tailtiu, this time of fullness is due to hard work and our ease is indeed the result of the sacrifice of the earth. However, this is also a season to feel the sun on our skin and take pride in the challenges we have faced, the journeys we have made, the skills, knowledge and experience we have now acquired. Tailtiu wants to see our skills and abilities shine. She wants us to be the very best we can be, to learn, to develop, to evolve.
This Lughnasadh, honour the cultivated and the wild gifts of the good earth, revelling in nature’s abundance. Meditate on the sacrifice of the goddess Tailtiu inherent in the blessings of the coming harvest. But also take time to feel proud of who you are and of what you contribute to those around you. Try to soak up a sense of achievement, letting it swell your heart together with the warming rays of the sun. In remembering to give back to the earth, and to life, as much as we receive – sowing and reaping in equal balance, we too can live in honour and come into our true power.
In modern Irish the month of August is known as Lunasa – a modern spelling for Lughnasadh. Another name for Lughnasadh is Lammas, which comes from the Anglo-Saxon festival at this time, Hlaef Mass, meaning ‘loaf mass’. This name refers to the importance of the grain harvest and signals the change from honouring the earth goddess and her gifts of wild foods to revering the ‘masculine’ skills of taming the land with agriculture, the sacrifice of John Barleycorn (see page 162).
Gathering Day customs
In Wales Lughnasadh was often called ‘Calan Awst’ or ‘Gathering Day’ and was held at the beginning of August although not necessarily on the first of the month. Several games with pre-Christian overtones were enacted, including one called ‘rhibo’, in which two lines of men would link arms, and a man and a woman would be tossed into the air and caught between them, perhaps referring to human lives caught in endless cycle of summer and winter.
Another was the tradition to grab any man or woman entering the harvested field, wrapping them in hay until they granted a favour – usually a kiss. For women this was called ‘giving them a green gown’ and for men ‘stretching their backs’, with obvious sexual and fertility implications. This may be an old folk memory of embodying the harvest spirit, or god/goddess of the grain, and enlisting their help and blessings for the harvest and the fertility of the next year’s crops.
Lughnasadh has been celebrated in different ways in different places and eras. Lughnasadh funerary games were held in Ireland up until the Norman conquest in the 12th century. These honoured Tailtiu and the labours of the earth, giving up much of its life as food for the people. These were held especially at Teltown, or Tailteann, named after Tailtiu, in County Meath. During the games, ‘Teltown marriages’ were performed, enacting the marriage of Lugh with the goddess Eire, after whom Ireland is named. This combined with a celebration of the harvest, as well as competition between warriors, paradoxically blending fulfilment and sacrifice, life and death. It was presided over by the king, to whom chieftains would bring tributes of wild foods, such as venison, fish and fruits, which were the province of Tailtiu. Bread was not included as this was made from a cultivated crop.
The feats of prowess and contests common in the Irish Lughnasadh celebrations have survived into modern times in the races and tugs of war that are still common features of festivals in August, sometimes known as ‘wake fairs’, across the UK and Ireland. The various Highland games of Scotland are also likely to have stemmed from this tradition, although there were other regional variations.
Lugh was worshipped all across Celtic Europe and was the patron of many towns, including Carlisle on the Scottish border, Lyons in France and Leiden in Holland. He is also analogous with the Welsh god Llew and traces of him can also be seen in the Arthurian knight of legend Sir Lancelot.
Lugh means ‘bright’ and his father was Cian, meaning ‘darkness’; while his mother, Eithlenn, was the daughter of the old sun god, ‘Balor of the evil eye’, and equitable with gods such as Bel and Baal (see page 87). Lugh is famous for his prowess with the solar lance or spear, and for killing Balor at the Battle of Moytura, securing the rule of his people, the divine Tuatha dé Danann (people of the goddess Danu), over Ireland and initiating a new phase of prosperity and abundance.
Lugh is said to have granted mercy to the tyrant King Bres after the battle in return for the knowledge of sowing, reaping and ploughing. By forcing the knowledge of agriculture from the old gods he ushered in a new era of civilization for humanity, who transitioned from being hunter-gatherers to becoming farmers for the first time.
Lugh, warrior and judge
Sometimes thought of as a sun god, Lugh is, however, more often associated with the power and skill of the warrior, and is also seen as a wise judge and overseer of legal contracts. These latter aspects were particularly relevant at Lughnasadh, when marriages and business deals were made, and great races and contests were held. The games were tests of endurance and prowess, opportunities for the warriors and young people to show off their abilities to gain renown and respect. Warriorhood, in the Celtic mind, is not a matter of sheer violence but rather a position of honour and responsibility, requiring excellent conduct, mature skill, wisdom, eloquence and even magical ability. A warrior was rightly proud of his or her actions, because they contributed to the wellbeing of the family or tribe.
In many Celtic stories, the greatest warriors were women, and the finest perhaps was Scathach, or Shadow, a Scottish warrior woman from the Isle of Skye. She taught the hero Cuchulain, the son of Lugh, who was conceived when Lugh visited his mother in spirit. Scathach taught a complex form of Celtic martial art, which has been forgotten today, involving forms such as ‘the salmon leap’, and ‘the shield feat’, giving warriors the reputation of almost superhuman ability.
Lugh can be called upon to help you overcome difficulties and to inspire you to learn new skills or make good strides in anything you are trying to achieve. Although he may sometimes be experienced as being rather stern and serious, he will understand your travails and will assist if you ask for help sincerely and respectfully. Speak to him as you would a wise and powerful warrior king with great power and responsibility. He will undoubtedly draw out these qualities in you, too. You can use your own words, or you might try these to get started:
‘Lugh of the long arm, lord of many skills, honour and praise to you. Please come to my aid. I ask your assistance to learn all that I need to grow and overcome my difficulties honourably and with pride. So may it be.’
John Barleycorn
The traditional ballad ‘John Barleycorn’ celebrates the spirit of the barley crop, its journey from sowing to reaping, and the beer and whisky that can be made from it. Some scholars also relate John Barleycorn to Beowa, the Anglo-Saxon god of barley and agriculture, whose name means ‘barley’, and who features in many Anglo-Saxon royal genealogies, as well as being a possible source of the hero tale Beowulf. There are many versions of the ballad, including the 15th-century Scottish verse, ‘Quhy Sowld Nocht Allane Honorit Be’, the most famous being published by Robert Burns in 1782. It opens with these lines:
‘There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.
They took a plough and plough’d him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.
But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show’rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris’d them all.’
There are several earth goddesses in the Celtic tradition, versions of Mother Nature or the Earth Mother. In the Celtic view, all of creation stems from the feminine divine in nature. For example, as well as the Irish Tailtiu (see page 156) and Danu (see page 87), in Celtic Europe there is also Aerecura, Nantosuelta and Rosmerta, among others, each with slightly different attributes, but each a carer, provider and mother to her people. Numerous surviving sculptures and inscriptions honour the triple mother goddess (see page 19). Representing earthy life, fertility and the gifts of nature, these are primarily mother goddesses, whether their offspring are children, animals, wild foods or crops. In Celtic tradition these goddesses are immanent in the many harvest hills that were used as sites for fairs and celebrations, and can be understood as embodiments of her rounded pregnant belly, birthing the crops.
Earth goddesses can be called upon for support with all of life’s travails, and they are the special friends of mothers and children, and those seeking comfort or trying to contact their earthy, giving side. Call upon them as a specific deity, such as Tailtiu or Danu, or as an overarching Earth Mother, in whatever way feels right to you. Your own heartfelt words will be the most effective, but you can try these, based upon a Scots Gaelic augury recorded in the 19th century but surely spoken in various forms for hundreds of years before then:
‘Goddess of this sacred earth be before me, goddess behind me,
Goddess of the green fields and the golden, be over me and beneath me,
Goddess of the dun earth and the green shoots be within me and without me,
Goddess of the mothers and the children lead me,
Cast your protection over me, guide me and bless me, grant me your tender care.’
You might want to follow this prayer by addressing the goddess directly and thanking her for all her gifts and support over the previous year, and listing all the things you are grateful for.
Try this meditation to connect with the earth goddess, drawing in her nurturing wild and loving energy to support and guide you.
Begin by sitting comfortably and closing your eyes. Take some time to let the activities of the day fall away and your body slow down into the present moment before taking three deep breaths.
Imagine you can see and feel your bare feet on warm, dry grass. You are standing on a tall rounded hill, close clipped in places by sheep and edged with wildflowers and tall grasses. All around you can see for miles out across the land. A warm sun beats down, and the air is filled with the lazy droning of bees.
You walk across a faint track through the grass, over the hill and to a stand of trees offering gentle shade. Here the grass is longer and flowers brush your ankles. Wild roses and honeysuckle tangle through the undergrowth, and new berries, still green but blushing slowly into reds and purples, garland the elder trees and the hawthorns with the promise of autumn ahead.
A small white butterfly flits past and leads you onward, its delicate wings shimmering through the dappled light and shade. A gentle breeze musses the branches and the drone of the bees grows louder. There is a quality in the air, a tingling like electricity that makes your heart beat faster but keeps you utterly silent. For all its untamed beauty, you know this is a sacred place.
Ahead the butterfly dances in the air. Another joins it, and then another, spinning around each other slowly. As you watch, more and more butterflies join the dance, spiralling and weaving among one another, forming a denser and denser cloud of shimmering white. Gradually, to your astonishment, the cloud of butterflies takes shape, slowly you can see the rounded curve of a hip, a breast, the sweep of an arm, as the butterflies form the shape of a tall woman, her hair great drifts of wings flittering around her.
With the voice of the bees she speaks. ‘Welcome little one,’ she says, and there is such warmth, such honey in her words, her voice, as she opens her arms to you, tipping her proud and beautiful head to you. Like a child returning to its mother you step forward, and feel yourself lifted up and spun gently, before she places you back down upon the ground. The butterfly woman dissipates, spinning around you like a cloud of blossom, but you know she is still here, all around you, in the earth, the trees, the grasses and flowers. Her form shifts and condenses again, and you find yourself face to face with her once more.
Your heart beats loudly in your chest, swelling with love for this lovely woman, this great goddess of life. You may find there is much to be said, or perhaps it is time to just be in her presence, that this moment of communion and togetherness says all that need be said. Do not rush but allow this to be as it is, a gift from her. She truly loves you as she loves all her children, all of creation upon this green earth.
In time you find her image fading and you know your time together is fading too, for now, though she is always here, always within your reach should you seek Her. She surrounds you every day in every flower, every tree, every animal, in the laughter of every child and in the warmth of every embrace. Soon you find yourself alone upon the hillside, and you walk slowly across the warm grass back to your body.
With every step you feel yourself coming back to the everyday world, till you return fully to yourself in the here and now. Take your time, wriggle your toes and fingers, and feel yourself fully back in your body and every day consciousness.
You may need to ground yourself further by eating and drinking. You may also choose to record your experiences in a journal.
Lughnasadh in the Celtic lands of the north marks the time when summer has reached its peak and turns toward the first moments of autumn fruitfulness. The nights are still quite short, with long, lingering, balmy evenings.
In the northern hemisphere, to the west of the sky and to the left of the Corona Borealis in the north, is the constellation of Hercules, the Hero. Hercules is a Roman version of the Celtic god Ogmios, who was a psychopomp and a club-wielding champion of great eloquence and inspiration. He is known in the Old and Middle Irish periods as Ogma Grianainech, ‘Ogma Sunface’, the champion warrior of the Tuatha dé Dannan. His fiery countenance was lit with the light of divine inspiration and he was able to rouse many warriors into battle, and even onto death, with the power of his words. Ogmios has strong solar qualities, reflected in his journey to and from death, as well as his great radiance, making him a suitable god to remember at this time.
As summer comes to fullness in August the beautiful constellation of Cygnus the Swan can be seen rising into the northeast. In the Celtic tradition, the Swan, known as Eala (Ey-la), is associated with the gifts of poetry and the grace of the goddess, marking a time of ease and sensual abundance, when the fire of life, the kundalini of the earth is riding high. Some believe that Cygnus the Swan was known in Celtic lore as a goose, rather than a swan. Geese, known as Gèadh, are treasured birds in Celtic lore. Prized for their eggs more than for their flesh, they teach the wise uses of resources, another important factor at this time. Representing the generative principle, they also teach how to protect and preserve the family and tribe. The Iron Age Celts sometimes connected them with warfare, as even domesticated geese are powerful and aggressive birds, able to fiercely protect their brood and territory. They are also known for their massive migrations – an aspect that also links them to ideas of spirit flight and journeys to the realm of the dead. Their connection to Lughnasadh reminds us that the abundance of this time must be honoured and treated wisely so that it can support us through the times of decline and scarcity over winter.
This meditation focuses on the constellation of Cygnus and can help you tune into the natural and sacred dramas of Lughnasadh, so that you can celebrate the vast power within you – the part of you that is divine, made of star stuff as old as the universe itself – and feel the great never-ending generative power of the stellar goddess.
Sitting comfortably, close your eyes and take three deep breaths. Let your eyes relax gently behind your closed lids and allow your imagination to sink into the darkness. Let your breathing deepen and slow naturally, then expand your awareness to imagine that you are at the base of a large hill, beneath a deep blue evening sky, bright with stars. You begin to climb the hill. It is steep and grassy and sometimes you need to scramble on all fours, clutching at the earth, but as you climb the ascent becomes easier and easier, and you go faster and faster, as if something from above is pulling you up. The night sky gathers around you as you climb higher and higher, and far overhead the constellation of Cygnus arises, like a great, outstretched bird soaring across the heavens.
As you climb faster, you begin to stand taller as you go, your legs stretching and your feet skimming the ground beneath you in swift, easy strides. Suddenly, you crest the top of the hill and find that you keep going, taking flight now out into the bright night sky. There is no fear, only elation and freedom. You know you are perfectly safe. As you rise higher and higher into the sky, you see Cygnus becoming brighter and brighter, clearer and clearer, a vast white bird, glowing bright with the light of a thousand stars, soaring and swooping through space. As you watch you feel joy and vigour, coursing through you, as if you could fly for ever, and you follow in the great bird’s wake.
Slowly you notice that you, too, are glowing in the reflected light of the bird, and as you look at and feel this light all around you, you know that you are shining out from the inside as well. There is a part of you, a seed of light, impossibly ancient and ever new, that was born out here in the heavens; it responds now to the great bird, and glows brighter and brighter, remembering itself after long years in the mortal world on earth.
In time you see that you are not alone, flying in this great stellar migration. There are others surrounding you near and far, also part of the great flock, and together you create a growing body of light, the depths of space around you growing lighter and lighter. And as the light grows so you begin to hear music, clear slow chiming and intoning, like the music of a vast crystal gong.
Ahead of you the great white bird of light soars and turns, spiralling, leaving a greater and greater arc of light trailing behind it until this grows into a vast starry vortex, impossibly bright. You spin and tumble into it, held somehow by the light itself that supports you, holding you gently as a baby.
The light grows brighter and brighter until you feel your physical body merging with the light and the chiming, your very cells vibrating with its celestial song. Renewed and reborn, fierce and strong, overflowing with life and vigour, silver fire in your veins, you know in this moment you are star stuff indeed; here the very spark of life originated and dwells within you.
Slowly, gently as a feather descending, you begin to ease out of the spiralling light, and ahead of you, you can see the blue jewel that is planet Earth. On strong wings of light you soar toward it with ease and grace, flying lower now over oceans and mountains, over green forests and deserts, over houses and roads. The land below is familiar now and you see your own home, and you remember your body below, seated comfortably, breathing deeply. You return to your physical self easily and gently, yet deep within you the light remains, together with the memory of all you have experienced. Know it is yours, within, always.
Take your time, wriggling your fingers and toes, and opening your eyes as you return to the everyday world once more.
You may need to earth yourself carefully after this exercise, by eating and drinking and taking your time to feel yourself back in your body and the everyday world.
This is the perfect time to make use of the natural resources around you to weave seasonal magic that helps you tune in to nature’s power and abundance.
In Native American traditions, smudge sticks are most commonly made of white sage (salvia apiana), but they can be made of all sorts of magical and sweet-smelling herbs. They can then be burned and wafted around for cleansing and protecting a space, ridding it of negative energies or attracting beneficent spirits. In the Celtic tradition this is called ‘saining’ and across the northern hemisphere there are many plants that were used for these purposes, especially vervain (see page 135), mugwort, meadowsweet, juniper, lavender and rosemary, which are all at their best during this time.
You will need
• Fresh herbs of your choosing, e.g. vervain, mugwort, meadowsweet, juniper, lavender and rosemary
• Embroidery thread
• Feather fan and shell/heatproof dish (optional)
Gather the herbs when they are at their peak, all through the month of August, and leave them to wilt somewhere dry, such as in an airing cupboard, for 24 hours.
Bunch them tightly into bundles about 5cm (2in) thick, with the stems together to form a posy. Take a length of embroidery thread and secure the stems together at one end, using a tight knot. Continue wrapping the thread around the stems a few more times, finishing with a second knot. Repeat at the other end of the smudge stick, and in the middle.
Alternatively, instead of binding again at the other end and in the middle, wind the thread around the smudge stick, using the least possible thread, making a spiral pattern until you reach the top. Turn the bundle round and spiral the thread back down to the start again, to create a criss-cross pattern. Secure at the bottom with a tight knot.
Hang your bundles to dry in a sunny window for a few weeks until dry.
Using a smudge stick
Carefully light one end and, as soon as it catches alight, blow out the flame so you are left with glowing embers. Waft the smoke around using your hand or a feather fan. You may want to hold a shell or dish beneath the smudge stick to catch any falling embers. Should the embers falter, coax them out by blowing upon them.
Waft the smoke in each of the four directions (see page 14) with thanks and prayers to the spirits, always thanking the spirit of the plant you have used in your own words for its sacrifice and gifts, and to honour the good work it is doing for you.
A smudge stick
Bees have long been considered magical beings, sacred to the earth goddess as well as to the sun. In Ancient Greece, the priestesses of Artemis and Demeter were the Melissae (‘bees’), and in English folklore there is a tradition of ‘telling the bees’ all the news of your family, as well as your hopes and fears, as they serve as powerful spirit allies. Bee magic is perfect for August, when they are most active and can attract the sunny, joyous and abundant energies of the season.
This ancient charm for household blessing and protection calls upon the magic of the bees and their connection to the earth goddess, as well as their magical association with the sun, to draw positive energies in to your home. Once upon a time three dead bees were used and it is fine to use these if you come across some, but bees are precious, endangered insects and should never be killed. It is possible to buy metal or ceramic bees from bead and jewellery craft suppliers. Another option is to gather pictures of bees or make them out of rolled pieces of clay or papier-mâché.
Once you have your three bees, place them in a pretty, gold-coloured pouch. As you place each bee in the bag, thank it and ask it to bless you and your home, either using your own words or saying this charm:
‘Pretty bee, busy bee, please bring your magic to my/our home. Make my/our life here honey sweet and full of sunshine. Keep me/us safe and prosperous. Pretty bee, busy bee I thank you and blessed be.’
Hang the pouch up somewhere sunny in your home, and remember to always treat your bees with respect and care, telling them about your life from time to time, and thanking them for their help.
This is an excellent time to take advantage of nature’s abundance, both in the garden and in the wild, and begin to gather seeds as they ripen. The first of the barley and wheat fields will be reaped now, and a portion of their seed will be used to sow next year’s crop. The same can be done with wildflowers or garden plants that you want to cultivate.
Collecting seed is a special, magical act reminding us of the cycle of the seasons and the need to invest in the future. These tiny seeds will blossom and grow into next year’s beauty and abundance, and by caring for this cycle in our own way we can participate in this mystery and become one of nature’s guardians. Before gathering seeds from the wild, check if you need the landowner’s permission.
Find some envelopes or brown paper bags and label and date them. If the seeds are ready to be gathered, they will fall easily into a paper bag when the plant is shaken. Although some plants self-seed best from fresh green seed, the majority need to dry out and have a cold period of dormancy first, so leave the seeds in the paper envelopes or bags somewhere dry but not warm, such as a shed or garage. Look out especially for the various types of poppy, as the seedheads will rattle when they are ready and are easy to harvest, producing thousands of tiny seeds. Never take more than a few seeds, scattering a portion at the foot of the plant should you accidentally take more than you intended. A small quantity of seed will often go a long way. Thank the plants and their spirits for their gifts as you gather their delicate offerings, and be conscious of what you are doing, being sure to use all the seed you gather and not wasting any of this precious potential.
During Lughnasadh our days are filled with sunshine and warmth, and crafting a cornucopia, floral girdle or salt-dough goddess reminds us of the abundance of our lives and these precious sun-filled moments.
Making a floral girdle, or belt, is a simple way to feel special during the celebration, helping to contact the god and goddess within. Fertility girdles were worn by priestesses in Egypt, Minoan Crete and many other places, to honour the earth. They can be made quite easily, using whatever flowers you have growing nearby. Ivy, long-stalked flowers or corn are all excellent; simply sew them on to a sash or scarf that is wide enough to wrap around your hips, using thread or twine. Alternatively, string flowerheads or ears of corn along a piece of embroidery thread, using a needle, and tie at the ends. Depending on your materials, you may need to knot each flower in place or simply push the stalk through the cloth. Use your creativity and trust yourself; you will be surprised how easy it is to make something beautiful to unleash the wilder nature of the wearer.
A corn or wheat ‘cornucopia’ – horn-shaped woven basket to fill with flowers, fruit and grain – can be difficult to weave, but can be bought ready made at floral suppliers. The idea can also be adapted quite easily, using a simple basket or a pretty bowl. A small sample of crops, flowers, berries and fruit makes a beautiful display of the natural produce of the first harvest of the year, as a symbol of the earth’s bounty at this time. Place on your altar and ask that the earth goddess bless it, or leave it as an offering out in a special place out on the land, or share it as part of a Lughnasadh feast.
A cornucopia
Reminiscent of the artisan breads that are made at this time, a salt-dough goddess figurine is easy to make and can be used to decorate your altar or sacred space. You can customize your design using seeds, leaves, dried flowers and berries, stones and crystals.
You will need
• 450g/16oz/3½ cups plain (all-purpose) flour
• 150g/5½oz/⅔ cup table salt
• 310ml/10fl oz/1¼ cups water
• Greaseproof paper
• Decorations of your choice: food colouring, paints, glue, seeds, leaves, dried flowers and berries, stones, crystals, etc.
• Acrylic glaze
• Hook with flat panel for wall hanging (optional)
In a large bowl, combine the flour and the salt and add the water a little at the time until you get a smooth dough-like consistency. Mix and knead the dough until it is firm and smooth. You might like to split the dough in half at this point to make two smaller figures rather than one big one. If you wish, add food colouring to the dough at this stage (golden yellow, red, brown or green are all suitable), adding a little at a time until it’s the shade you want.
Roll and shape into a simple doll design, or add more details if you feel more confident, folding, smoothing and tucking edges underneath for the best, tidiest look. There is no wrong way to do this so have fun and experiment.
Depending upon your decorations you may be able to add stones and crystals by gently pressing them into the dough, otherwise they can be stuck on with glue later.
Place on a baking sheet lined with greaseproof paper and place in a preheated oven, 140°C/275°F/gas mark 1, for 3–4 hours. The dough should be cooked slowly and checked often, as you may want to move it or turn it over carefully so it dries out evenly. This process can’t be rushed.
When it is dried and cooled, paint and decorate your goddess as you wish. Smothering her with leaves and dried flowers looks pretty, for example, or you can paint on your designs.
When you have finished decorating, cover the figure with spray-on or brush-on acrylic glaze.
If you want to hang on a wall you can find a suitable hook, with a flat panel to glue on the back, at DIY stores.
This is the first of the harvest festivals and decorations of gold, orange and red are suitable, together with green. You might like to include natural objects: corn and wheat, ripe crops of beans or salads, pretty stones and seashells from days at the beach all make evocative decorations. Bowls of fruit or a cornucopia (see page 175) are both lovely touches, as is a simple wooden bowl of berries and wildflowers, to honour the earth goddess.
There is a great deal of seasonal fresh food to be found everywhere during Lughnasadh and gathering locally sourced produce for a wholesome meal is a wonderfully simple way to honour the harvest and give thanks for the abundance in our lives, within our own bodies and in the world around us.
Boxty, meaning ‘poor house bread’, is a traditional Irish potato pancake, also known in some parts as ‘poundy’. There are many different recipes but all contain finely grated raw potatoes. Serves two.
You will need
• 150g/5½oz/1 cup cooked and mashed potatoes
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 150g/5½oz/1 cup grated raw potatoes
• 150g/5½oz/½ cup plain (all-purpose) flour, plus extra for dusting
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 40ml/1¼oz/3 tablespoons milk
• Pinch of caraway seeds (optional)
• 3 tbsp butter
Place all the ingredients into a large bowl with 2 tablespoons of the butter and stir gently to combine.
To make the patties, turn the mixture onto a lightly floured board and divide into 4–6 equal portions. Gently flatten each with the back of a spoon.
Heat the remaining tablespoon of butter in a large frying pan over a medium heat. When melted, place the patties in the pan and fry for about 5 minutes each side until golden brown, then serve immediately.
This delicious late-summer recipe makes 4–6 servings and can be used as salad dressing, over ice cream, mixed with lemonade or fizzy spring water, or poured into pans or roasting dishes after cooking meat for fruity gravy, and is also excellent for soothing a sore throat.
You will need
• 570ml/20fl oz/2½ cups red wine vinegar
• 570 ml/20fl oz/2½ cups water
• 450 g/1lb/3 cups raspberries
• 1 tsp white sugar
Place all the ingredients in a large pan on a medium heat, bring to simmering point, then reduce the heat to low and leave to simmer gently for 10 minutes. Alternatively, combine all the ingredients in a bowl, cover and leave in a cool, dark place for two days to infuse.
Finally, strain through a fine-mesh sieve or muslin cloth and pour into a sterilized bottle.
A wonderful summer treat, bringing clarity to mind and zest to the spirit. Visualize sunlight within the lemons, to add a little extra magic.
You will need
• 3 lemons, juice and zest
• 450g/1lb/2¼ cups sugar
• 2 tsp citric acid, to preserve (optional)
• 570ml/20fl oz/2½ cups boiling water
Combine the lemon juice and zest in a large jug with the sugar, the citric acid (if you want it to keep longer) and the boiling water. Stir until all the sugar is dissolved. Cover the jug with plastic wrap and place in the fridge until the lemonade is cool and you’re ready to serve.
The god Lugh is the master of all skills: pre-eminent warrior, accomplished healer and noble cup bearer – this is both the role of a servant, giving honour to others, and a place of honour in itself. At Lughnasadh, the games and competitions were opportunities to show off athletic and warrior abilities and also other skills, with which to win renown and the respect of your community, and the approval and blessing of Lugh himself. In the same way we can call on Lugh during Lughnasadh to help us celebrate our deeds and achievements.
Spend some time meditating on the past year, or on your spiritual or life journey so far, and prepare a written list, perhaps as a roll, of your deeds and achievements. Remember these need not be obvious things, such as physical prowess or accumulation of wealth: acts of heroism, in the outer world or within your own consciousness and life story, are especially worthy, as are deeds of love, charity or compassion. Skills of every kind should be included, and times when you overcame difficulties, of any type, are all achievements, too.
In addition, you can include moments in your life when you became aware of mistakes, as these are also important achievements along your journey. It is immensely healing and empowering to begin to see ourselves in this way, and to present our causes for pride to our fellows and our gods.
Prepare your list and, either alone or in company, read it aloud in the invoked presence of Lugh himself. This can be done as part of a Lughnasadh celebration, or as a simple private ritual. Focus on how you felt, as well as what you thought and experienced. Reading out your list of achievements can then become an act of power-retrieval and pride-building, as well as providing a punctuation point in your life story, placing any difficulties that have been overcome, or hard work that you have gone through, in the context of your past history, rather than seeing them as ‘present trouble’.
In this guided journey you can connect deeper with the spiritual abundance of the season by exploring in your inner vision the ancient harvest festivals and honouring the earth goddess with your own spiritual offering in gratitude for your life and its many gifts.
You find yourself walking across a rich meadow. The day is warm and the sky is blue and clear above you. The long, rich grass is full of flowers in a vast rainbow of colours: blue and violet, orange, scarlet and golden yellows. Crickets hum and click around your ankles and clouds of butterflies and bees dart and flutter in the air around you. High above, you hear the call of a buzzard.
Around you are low, green hills and rich pastureland stretching as far as the eye can see. You are not alone, others are heading in the same direction with you, funnelling into an avenue of white standing stones that form a path across the fields and over the crest of the wide hill you are walking along.
As you step between the stones you take a moment to examine their shimmering white surfaces. There are tiny flecks of quartz glimmering in the rock. The half-formed shapes of animals and human faces seem to come out from their sculpted sides in the subtlest of ways, one image appearing to form another from a different angle as you walk by, in a play of light and shade. You walk in between one pair of stones after another. While some are wide and almost diamond shaped, others are tall and thin, but all are huge, the work of many hands to prepare and erect. Their windblown faces tell you that these stones have stood here for many long years.
You continue along the avenue of stones. Men and women, young and old surround you, all making their way over the hill. Some carry baskets and bunches of grain or flowers. Children play and sing, running to and fro around their parents as they plod steadily through the grass. Ahead you can hear the sound of distant drums, and the music grows louder as you crest the hill and the expanse of the land opens up before you, the rounded belly of the harvest hill rising up in front of you, a sudden surprise.
Crowds of people swarm around its base, and the sound of drums and flutes are much louder here, the earth seeming to vibrate to the music. There are small huts and cooking fires, and groups of young men and women laughing and shouting. To one side there are enclosures for horses and cattle, and a great deal of business seems to be taking place. But what takes your breath away is the hill itself. Perfectly round at its base, it rises up like a pregnant woman’s belly, nestled in beside the curve of the hill you stand on. Its smooth sides seem impossible and you know that this harvest hill is a great wonder, made by the men and women of this land over many years. All over its sides swirl a vast mandala of flowers and fruits, bunches of wheat and barley and green leaves all laid down in an immense, complex pattern, a knotwork design of many living colours.
You follow the crowds walking slowly around the foot of the hill, and see that each person is ushered in turn to a place where a thin path of pale chalk snakes it way to the summit. Each person is met at the foot of this path by a man or a woman wearing red, who takes offerings to the land from the people, carrying the gifts up the hill to position them in the design. Suddenly, it is your turn and you think for a moment that you carry no offering, have nothing to give. You stand with empty arms in front of the priestess of the sacred hill.
She looks at you with deep, dark eyes and speaks to you, ‘What is in your heart? What are you most proud of this year?‘
You answer without thinking, without hesitation. Whatever comes into your mind first is your true response; there is no right or wrong reply. Immediately you feel something in your hands and so you offer it up to the woman before you. Whatever this object is, it represents your pride, your joy, your accomplishments, what you hold most dear in your heart at this time. Have no fear, whatever you see is taken by the priestess as part of the great pattern upon the hill, and is blessed but is never lost. She takes it from your hands with thanks and a smile, and you are ushered on past the hill back into the crowds.
As you walk away, consider what it is you saw, what you answered and gave to the woman. It may not be what you expected. It is a symbol of your gifts, and there is power in it, but what you hold in your heart, what you strive and long for and makes you truly shine will remain with you always inside.
All around you are celebration and festivity, and you take your time to explore the party for a while, basking in the warm sun and drinking in the abundance that surrounds you. Eventually, though, you feel it is time to return the way you came, and you retrace your footsteps, climbing over the hill through the avenue of stones. As the stone rows come to an end, you feel yourself return to your body and the everyday world.
Let your breathing guide you back, slow and deep, feeling the breath in your chest, and the steady beating of your heart within you. Take your time. Feel yourself back into your body, back to the here and now, and wiggle your fingers and toes before moving around.
Remember to ground yourself afterwards by eating and drinking and perhaps recording your experiences in a journal.
Lughnasadh is the perfect time to give thanks for the warmth of the sun, so that you can keep its power and light in the colder months to come.
Celebrating with friends, family and/or the wider community
Start by choosing a special site, somewhere that is practical for dancing and perhaps games but that also has a special atmosphere; somewhere that can be decorated, perhaps including a Lughnasadh altar, and will evoke the feel of the season.
Ask everyone to bring something that represents a special achievement of the past year. Take time to acknowledge and honour each other’s gifts and progress in life, and ask Lugh and the earth goddess to bless each of these things in turn before placing them on the altar. You may also choose to raise some energy with dances emulating the waving corn in the fields, with some fast passionate music. Alternatively, you could hold group games, such as races or a tug of war.
A picnic or an outdoor feast is a great way to conclude your ceremony. Ask everyone to bring a contribution, ideally something they have grown or cooked themselves. You might want to meet beforehand to prepare some traditional boxty (see page 177), a seasonal stew, home-grown salads, as well as homemade lemonade (see page 178), and cakes and puddings made with fruit. Try fresh local foods, and anything that delights your senses and appetite.
Candles and flowers for a Lughnasadh ceremony
Celebrating alone
In the days leading up to the Lughnasadh, decorate your space with wildflowers and fruits, if you can, and the colours yellow, orange, red and gold. In readiness for your ceremony, you might like to prepare some smudge sticks (see page 169) to use later.
When you are ready to begin, create a sacred space by calling in the four directions (see page 14) and calling to any gods that you feel drawn to. Lugh and Tailtiu are the most relevant at this season, as well as the spirits of the animals and the plants that give us so much sustenance, so that you can give thanks for their gifts. Alternatively, you may wish to call upon your ancestors to bless and support your life and path, or to help with anything that concerns you. Use your own heartfelt words to call upon them, as this is always more authentic and powerful, but you might say:
‘I call upon the goddess Tailtiu, great one of the earth, goddess of the wild fruits and the harvest fields, come to me here on your sacred day. Bless me and let me feel your presence. Blessed be!
‘Lugh, lord of many skills, lord of justice and wisdom, I call you to our circle here on this sacred day, named in your honour. Come to us here, with your wisdom enlighten our hearts and minds, and bless us. So mote it be.’
Here would be a good time to perform the stellar meditation (see page 167), or the honouring the earth goddess or Lughnasadh visualizations (see pages 164 and 180). At this point you might want to light a smudge stick to cleanse and bless your home (see page 169), or perform the three bees in a bag charm (see page 171). Afterwards, light a fire or candle and take a moment to gaze into the flames in silence, and focus on acknowledging the gifts of the season.
An important part of a Lughnasadh ceremony is to let yourself shine and feel proud of who you are. Try reading out a roll of your deeds (see page 179), listing all the things in your life that you can feel proud of and all your achievements, no matter how small or abstract.
Whether you are celebrating with friends and family or alone, finally, take a moment to give thanks and gratitude to each direction and element, as well as to any gods or ancestors for their help in your ceremony and their presence in your life. Give thanks for all the blessings of every kind that have come to you over the last year. This makes us conscious of the bond we have with all creation, and the interconnectedness of all things, which helps us grow into greater harmony with life.
In celebrating Lughnasadh we give ourselves time to focus on our pride and self-esteem, as well as on the good of our communities and the beauty of the natural world around us. Pride can be so healing and positive. As individuals, pride can spur us on to a more positive life and to make bolder and braver steps toward our potential. Having pride in our communities helps us grow closer together and see ourselves in a wider context, as well as relating more positively with our environment. Here we find ourselves in the thick of the summer celebrations, but we must remember, like Tailtiu, that these things come to an end, so we must drink them in while we can. Ahead still is the abundance of autumn, with the first of the falling leaves, so for now we must treasure every flower, every sunny day, as the gifts they are. Filling our hearts to the brim we may feel gratitude for our harvest as the wheel turns in due course.
Blessed be!
