I’ve been struggling a bit lately, trying to get myself and my life back on track. Over the course of these struggles, I started to feel that a new spiritual context might help. Recently, I reconnected with an old interest in Celtic spirituality and wondered if maybe that was it.
On October 31st (Samhain) I did tarot with a friend. Later that night, I incubated a dream about a possible change in spiritual direction. I had a series of four dreams that night. This was the second:
I’m watching a video of a group of women meeting in someone’s living room. I know it’s some kind of spiritual group. I’m drawn to it. The room is warm and inviting and I have the impression of bright, autumn colors. The women are probably in their thirties, sitting in a row of chairs that may be part of a circle. There are three of them or maybe four, all laughing and obviously happy to be together. They are attractive, and colorfully dressed with lovely long hair. One has dark hair, and I think another’s hair is auburn. They have pretty Celtic style spiral tattoos that I am very taken with. I realize that I am with them. My hair is short—a sleek golden blond. ~Incubated Dream, Samhain 2025
Possible associations
The setting and the women have an archetypal feel. The golden hair is could be about identity or alchemy or something else but, either way, I think it suggests being in a good place. But I’m only viewing it. Close, maybe, but not really there.
And then there is the spiral.
According to one of my favorite symbol books, An Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Symbols by JC Cooper, the spiral is a complex symbol known since paleolithic time. It is found in ancient Egypt, Crete, Mesopotamia, Asia, India, pre-Columbian America, Scandinavia, Europe and Britain (all cultures that have spoken to me at some point in my life). Cooper mentions too many associations to list here but ones that spoke to me include the energy of nature, the great creative force and the Mother Goddess.
For me, personally, the primary association is the divine feminine.
How might this apply?
Dreams rarely tell us what to do. So I’m not taking this dream as advice. Instead I’m trying to see the it as insight. A recording of dream me is with the joyful Celtic sisterhood but the POV me in the dream is watching the scene, not taking part in it.
Video and media were features in the other dream scenes that night as well. I associate media with communication, specifically how I communicate so I feel this scene is meant to communicate something to me. I don’t do groups, so it isn’t about a waking life group.
Maybe it’s about the ancestors or everything I have to learn or the idea that, even if I’m not there yet, my attention is in the right place. And maybe it’s not.
Life has been a bit of a slog lately but this dream makes me want to do better. To try harder. To earn my place in that happy group.
All of which reminds me of something Native American author and physician Lewis Mehl-Madrona says about the ancestors in The Spirit Of Healing.
And everyone loves a hero. Spirits are no exceptions. Whatever your heroic journey is, the more impressive it is, the better for you.
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For more on Dr. Mehl-Madrona's book please see When Healing is a Hero's Journey
The photo for this post is by Robert Lukeman on Unsplash
Why I Left
I prayed a lot that week and on Saturday, the 22nd of May, 2017, I prayed more.
The next day I went to the flea market as I did most Sundays. I had forgotten to stop at the ATM on the way and had only eight dollars with me, which was much less than I usually brought. But I didn't really care. It was raining - a slow steady kind of rain that promised to continue all day - and I didn't expect there would be many vendors or much of anything to buy.
When we pulled into the parking lot I saw that I was right about the vendors. The large open area that was usually full of tables and tents was practically empty. The few sellers who had set up were spread out and the gravel lot was full of puddles. But we decided to put on our slickers and see what we could find.
One of the first things I spotted was a chalkware Blessed Mother. For some reason I couldn't really explain, I'd been wanting one of those big old Mary statues for some time. Over the course of the last two summers I'd kept an eye out. But all those I'd seen were chipped or expensive or both.
The one in front of me that day was almost two feet tall and had no significant damage. So I was surprised when the woman on the other side of the table said it was mine for five dollars. It wasn't really my style but I liked the blue of Mary's cloak and the graceful curve of her neck. I bought it without any negotiation at all.
A little further on, I saw a cold cast bronze St. Brigid's cross that had been made in Ireland. I asked the vendor the price and he said a quarter. And then, when I couldn't find any change, he refused my dollar and insisted I take the cross for free. I was happy that I was able to tell the a bit about St. Brigid and what she had done so long ago in Ireland. And I started to get a good feeling about the day.
The next thing I saw was a bright silver crucifix shining through the rain, When I got close I could see that it had a glass holy water font and a place on either side of the cross for candles. I thought that the seller would probably want at least ten dollars for such a nice item, but she didn't. She wanted three. So I got the crucifix too.
On the long damp ride home, I realized that I had bought three Christian items on an unlikely day and for a surprisingly good price. But what struck me most was that I had bought all three of them for the exact to the penny amount of money that I had with me.
So I considered it sign. And decided that I should give Christianity another shot.
I started with a church tour of several local churches. Afterwards I picked an evangelical church that was not a good fit and then a Pentecostal church I liked better. I didn't spend any real time thinking about the Catholic church I had visited in the early days of the church tour or the fact that each of the items I bought that day at the fleas market were Catholic in origin.
Until, almost three years later, just after my return from Israel.
It began with car problems. Getting to the new Protestant church I had joined was impossible. Finally, after several weeks, it occurred to me that there were two churches within a short walk of my house and that one was actually just a block and a half away.
So I walked down the street and went to Mass for the first time in what seemed like forever. And the next week I went back and I just kept on going.
As the weeks passed, I thought about the spiritual journey I'd made and the enormous circle that has brought me back to a place that is, and always was, just around the corner.
The items I bought that day at the flea market are gone and I know that there is some kind of lesson in that. And while I'm still not sure just what that is, I think that it might be that God doesn't want me to be the kind of Catholic I used to be. Or the kind of person I used to be.
I think that maybe he wants me to be something new.
Why I Returned to the Blog (2024 Update)
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| My rainy day flea market Mary |
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| Another flea market Mary that I have kind of sadly given away |
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| St. John's (our town's "Irish" church) complete with spires |
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| Photo by Ben Wicks on Unsplash |
One of the first unusually vivid dreams I can recall was a dream I had in high school.
In this odd, but memorable dream, a single bright section of an orange transformed into a tiny infant right before my eyes. At the mall a few days later, I saw an album in a record store window. On its cover was a dreamy sort of image of a baby. The name of the album was Tangerine Dream.
I made the connection and bought it on the spot.
Later, listening to my new album through my headphones, I had a vision. In it, a group of men in dark robes were trudging up a hill. Behind them, a grove of trees had been cut down, and on each stump a man had been beheaded.
I had an interest in King Arthur from an early which may be why I recognized the men as Druids. Given that interest, I'm sure a lot of people would just chalk a vision like that up to imagination, but because I have aphantasia visions are few and far between for me (and those I do have are not deliberately self-generated). So it was unusual for me to see any kind imagery in any state.
What really got my attention however was the emotion I felt.
The scene was grisly, but I wasn't the least bit horrified. Instead, as the hauntingly beautiful music built to its crescendo, I felt a bittersweet sense of loss. I understood those retreating figures. I knew their way of life was ending and that loss moved me.
It wasn't until many years later, that my interest in Celtic spirituality would move me to become a member of the OBOD (Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids).
Did my dream and the resulting vision predict this interest? Or is there something genetic that travels downstream through time that speaks to us? Or is it only coincidence?
That is the mystery.
____________You can visit the OBOD website at Druidry.org
My son Josh has done a lot of work on our family tree. He's found out all kinds of interesting people. Kings, queens, saints, women hung for witchcraft, Ray Bradbury and more.
This interests me, especially as I become more and more convinced that the tree in the Spirit Dream is our family tree. Though I am still unsure just what it means.
I got my Ancestry DNA done recently, as well. A lot of stuff washes out (like Swedish and French). Other comes through—like Scottish, Native American and Irish, which was told was there but didn't know about for sure.
I'm happy about this because I have an interest in Native and Celtic culture. I understand, of course, that culture is something handed down and I know that the genetic part doesn't really matter, but I still like the idea that there is a connection.
I also find it interesting that some of the historical figures that have interested me the most over the years, have popped in my family tree (and the family trees of millions of other people, I'm sure).
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| Damh the Bard Inspiring Me to Reclaim the Pen of Fiction! |
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| Kristoffer Hughes offering wonderful insights on the legacy of Iolo Morganw. |
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| The Ritual Tent |
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| The Scrying Center |
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| Make Your Own Amulet Station |
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| Ritual Tent: Fabricated and Constructed by a Member of the Order |
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| Ritual Area |
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| The Path Into the Woods |
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| Love the Idea of Stewardship! |
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| Walking in the Woods |
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| The Raptor Show Begins! I believe this guy is the Red-Tailed Hawk. |
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| Close Up of an Owl |
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| Meeting a Golden Eagle! |
Recent Journal Entry
I'm listening to Celtic music as I journal. It's early Saturday and all the windows are open and there is rain in the air. The point of journaling for me is to find peace. Not necessarily to examine my life or arrive at some great stream-of-consciousness insight - though there are times when those things happen. I have Welsh and Irish and Scottish in my family tree and this music touches me in a place other music does not. So it may be that it's time to chase beauty and peace instead of knowledge and skill. At least some of the time, anyway. And it says something, I think, that when I listen to this music and write from that quiet place inside, I tear up. Every time. Last night, shadows moved in my room and sleep eluded me. But this morning, here I am on the page.
Said Julius Cesar of the Celts:
Overall, the traditional references in this deck are fascinating, the artwork and color outstanding, the elemental associations strong and the images close enough to the RWS to be easily readable for most. I highly recommend it!
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