Cord Cutting, Web Weaving, and the Morrigan

One of my first experiences of the Morrigan was when She came to put right a pattern in my soul tapestry, one that I’d been working with for some time, but was stuck on – a strong pattern of mother-daughter violence that ran painfully through my personal life experience, and my ancestral lines. It was given to me to hold a point of healing for these – and, quite honestly, I was really struggling with it.

I am a healer. I work with the Morrigan frequently in my healing work for others as well as my healing for myself. She is a guide for me (or it might be more accurate to say She works through me), in many parts of this, including soul weaving and soul healing.

Here’s the thing: this stuff works. It works in a big way. It can heal things within us that we never imagined could be healed.

But also, for precisely this reason, this work needs to be treated with respect. It can harm as well as heal, through carelessness or inexperience even when there is no intention to cause harm.

I don’t want to put anyone off from working with cord cutting or any other technique. What I  would say is that if it is something you want to work with – especially if you want to work with it powerfully – take the time to learn about it, and treat it, and yourself, and the cords you are working with, with due respect.

If we have a pain in our bodies, we don’t typically grab a knife and hack away at it (or at least I don’t). Our soul stuff – and the energy lines that run between us and other people and situations – deserve equal care and awareness. Yes, you can grab that knife and hack, but why would you? And even if you did take a knife and cut away a pain in your body, you very well could be causing more trouble for yourself, right? It’s also possible for this to happen with soul and power work.12027276_10204876113278755_9120665887598788752_o

In terms of cord cutting and web-weaving, I’m always learning new pieces. I work with a number of guides, and the subtley and ruthlessness of the work fascinates me. It is an art. Like any art, we can grow into it and come to excel at it over time, with patience and practice.

You can certainly get help with this, (see your trusted local priest, healer, or shamanic practioner), or you can also do it yourself. For all of us, there are times when one or the other option will be most appropriate. If you are brand new to it, it is a good idea to begin with some help or teaching – whether this is from your guides or from another person who is experienced in these techniques (ideally over time you’d have both).

In all cases, here are some things it is worth knowing before you begin:

(1) It is possible to cut ‘negative’ cords or attachments to a person or situation without cutting away all attachment or connection to that person or thing. Often indeed this is exactly what is needed.

(2) Cord cutting works best when it is done under guidance – ideally with a guide who knows about weaving and working in soul tapestries and the web.

(3) If/when you cut cords, do it with the clear intention of working for the highest good of all concerned – send love, blessing, forgiveness, healing energy through that cord before you cut, and cut only in the moment when the balance is right. This is not new-age-y ‘all is love and light’, but clean practice and good sense if you are a healer working with intention (not a dabbler).

(4) You can ask your guides to cut or re-weave for you – sometimes they will. Thank them if they do, and follow up with any further instructions they offer.

(5) Cord cutting is not necessarily the first, the best, or the only way to work with a relationship or situation. (My early experience with the Morrigan was not a cutting, but a restoration of power into threads that sent a shockwave through the tapestry, transforming patterns and resonance). It can however be fabulously effective when used wisely and well.

For me, working with the Morrigan, and serving Her, is a living practice. The idea of personal sovereignty underlies and runs through everything in terms of my life and work with Her. Working consciously and consistently within my own soul tapestry and the web – sometimes under Her guidance, sometimes with others, for myself – are a part of this living practice, and a part of the blessing of working from a space of sovereignty.

This time of year is a great one for cord cutting, weaving and re-weaving, righting the balance of things as we move a step closer towards our winter dreaming. Blessings on your autumn cuttings, weavings, and re-weavings.

 

About the author: Rebecca Wright is a shamanic healer and teacher, and a daughter and priestess of the Morrigan. She is one of the founders of the Call of the Morrigan Facebook group, and this blog. Come and meet and work with her at the Call of the Morrigan UK retreat.

 

 

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Pilgrimage by Brennos Agrocunos

Detail from Desmond Kinney’s 1974 mosaic mural of the Táin Bó Cúailnge in Dublin

Introduction

It’s taken me days to make the transition from being in Ireland to being in California.  Jet lag was a factor, but it is much more than jet lag that has thrown my system into disarray.  What has shifted in me is deeper than a physiological response to travel, or the simple shock of moving between contrasting cultures.  In a very profound way, my spiritual landscape has been altered, reworked, grounded in place in a way that I was unaware that it was even lacking, but now can’t imagine being without.

I wasn’t sure that I should even attempt to write about my experiences on this journey.  Some of them seem too involved and detailed, with tangents twisting off of tangents.  Too much backstory would needed to relate the significance of some of these events to readers, and the format of a blog is ill-suited for this type of storytelling, usually requiring strong drink and smokey firelight, quite possibly the smell of wet wool.  Many of the stories are painfully personal and would force me to tell my own histories and stories, an art that I am not skilled at nor comfortable doing in most cases.  But my habits of seclusion and remaining guarded have been put on the chopping block by the Queen that I serve, and stories have a habit of wanting to be told.  So here we are.

Instead of trying to relate the journey to you all at once, or simply relating a chronological telling of the tale,  I’ve decided that I will be publishing my account in a series of stories.   Some will be about certain portions of the trip and some will be explorations of themes and concepts that came up during the experience.  The time we were there was so densely packed with places, spirits, experiences, and revelations that I’m not exactly sure how these stories will form and want to be told.  This process I am going through is more for me than anyone else.  It is not unlike the process of unpacking your bags after a long trip.  You slowly take each item that you have acquired during your expedition out of your bag and hold it in your hands, remembering where you found it, its significance to you, how it fits into the life that you have returned to.

So I welcome you to join me while I unpack my experiences and tell some tales of my odyssey if that type of thing will be of interest to you.  I humbly hope that my words can do justice to the wealth and richness of the land we walked in and brilliance and kindness of the people that we encountered, but stories must start somewhere and in the case of this account, it should probably start with a tale.

Boyhood Deeds

The boy had his first training among the women of his mother’s clan, and this is fitting for it’s a pups mother that trains it to fight, for women know that fighting is more than glory and tales, but often a matter of survival.

He lived in a village in the shadow of a great city with his Grandmother, Corcairghorm and her sisters, powerful Druidess’ of a fierce clan, who knew the arts of healing, craft, and persuasion.  The boy lived a happy but lonely life with his mothers people, and it was likely that the women loved him greatly, for there were few children in the clan, and the boy was kind, and good natured, and tried to be helpful even when his size and skills made him very unhelpful in some tasks.

The boy, then called Tómas, spent the dark half of his year with the clan of his mother in boyish pursuits, exploring deep forests, pushing the boundaries of his existence, and asking too many questions, and he spent the light half of the year with his fathers people, a wild and untamed clan that lived deep in the mountains. From his fathers people he learned the art of the hunt, and how to move like a staking beast through the forest. He learned to plow rocky fields and when the right time to cut hay for the animals.

There was another thing about the boy that set him apart from his people, a fact that he kept to himself as much as he was able to, but something that made him feel alone and distant from the other people in his life, the boy was often approached by and spoken to by spirits of the dead and creatures of the Otherworld. At first there seemed nothing out of the ordinary to have exchange with these spirits, but Tómas quickly realized that he was the only one that saw them, and that by talking about the beings that he encountered with the other members of his clan, made the people that loved him look at him out of the sides of their eyes suspiciously, and regard him with fear and concern when they thought he wasn’t looking.

Once, the boy awoke in the middle of the night, eyes open but unable to move his body. It was then that he saw the woman, tall and beautiful, who had the bearing of a mighty queen from the stories that his grandmother told him. He feared and loved this stormy, stately Queen and struggled to make his mouth and throat make sounds to speak to Her but could only make a strangled moan that broke the spell that held his body still, when the spell was broken the Queen was gone, all that remained was the sound of calling crows and the image of a fair green land.

Years later the boy awoke during a violent storm. Storms didn’t frighten him at this point, the terrors and fears of the night had become his friends and companions. He had learned to run through the forests at night alongside wolves and to sit silently in the trees as an owl mapping the sounds and movements of the creatures of the wood. He spoke with his ancestors and with spirits and shades of the dead and they became his confidants and protectors. He did not fear storms but ran into them at night, reveling in the power and beauty of the whipping rain and bright flashes of lightening, and ground shaking thunder, but this storm was different. It was not a storm to challenge. As the boy sat quietly in the dark listening to the raindrops crash against his window, he saw the face of a crone peering in at him. Once again the boy felt that combination of fear and attraction that he felt with the Mighty Queen that visited him years before and he knew that although Her appearance was different, this was the same Queen. He rapidly sat up in bed and the crone was now in the corner of his room, peering out of one eye with a piercing stare, cloak and feather wrapped, growing and filling the space, and with a voice that sounded equal parts music and screams, the crone who was a Queen who was a black bird, called him a name that he had never heard before and yet knew it was his and said to him
“You Child, are one of my creatures, and I will have need of you in the future, and as I have visited you in your home, someday you will come and visit me in mine”
And with those words She was gone and he was left with dreams of a green and magical island that he knew was his home as well as that Queen’s.

Reblogged with permission from Pilgrimage to Ireland – Introductions and a Tale https://strixian.wordpress.com/2015/09/25/pilgrimage-to-ireland-introductions-and-a-tale/

About the author

Brennos Agrocunos is an activist, spirit worker and priest of the Morrigan presently living in Berkeley California. He is one of the founding members of the Coru Cathubodua, a Celtic devotional polytheist priesthood based in the Bay Area. As a priest, he works towards social justice, environmental healing, and sovereignty of the land and write about these and related topics.

He can be found online at Strixian Woods https://strixian.wordpress.com/

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Prophecy of the Morrigan

Translation by Morgan Daimler.

Peace to sky.
Sky to earth.
Earth below sky,
strength in each one,
a cup overfull,
filled with honey,
sufficiency of renown.
Summer in winter,
spears supported by warriors,*
warriors supported by forts.
Forts fiercely strong;
banished are sad outcries
land of sheep
healthy under antler-points
destructive battle cries held back.
Crops [masts] on trees
a branch resting
resting with produce
sufficiency of sons
a son under patronage
on the neck of a bull
a bull of magical poetry
knots in trees
trees for fire.
Fire when wished for.
Wished for earth**
getting a boast
proclaiming of borders***.
Borders declaring prosperity
green-growth after spring
autumn increase of horses
a troop for the land
land that goes in strength and abundance.
Be it a strong, beautiful wood, long-lasting a great boundary
‘Have you a story?’
Peace to sky
be it so lasting to the ninth generation

*scíath means shields but also “fighting man, warrior, guardian”. The usual translation here is given as shield, but I prefer the imagery that comes with warrior, however it may also be taken as “spears supported by shields, shields supported by forts”

** alternately “wished for by flesh”

*** this line “boinn a mbru” is often translated as “calves in wombs” or something similar, assuming boinn should be boin or boinin – calf, and taking bru as womb. I believe in this case boinn is actually ad-boinn, a form of apad meaning to declare or proclaim, and bru here means boundary or border. I think this makes the most sense in context with the preceding and following lines.

 

Translation by Morgan Daimler, reblogged with permission from Living Liminally. You can also find Morgan on Facebook and Amazon.

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