Finding the Pagan Way

To make some sense of my journey into paganism for the reader, I must backtrack a little from my last article. I mentioned last month, that it was really when I moved to Lincolnshire, that my interest in all things occult blossomed into a new lifestyle. London is a very busy place, and I was a very busy person. With a fairly large family to provide for, I generally worked over 80 hours every week. In the latter years, as engineering died due to the sell-off of British industry, I had to travel further and further to work.  I spent what time I had left working on our garden. It was about half an acre and my late wife and I turned it into a mini nature reserve. We spent many contented evenings sitting under the pergola and watching the birds and insects. We lived 25 miles away from central London, but every year it got more and more overpopulated and noisy. When My wife suggested that we move to Lincolnshire, and I agreed readily.

It was when I was walking our two Yorkshire terriers one evening that everything started to change for me spiritually. I was wandering along the bypass in New Holland lost in thought. I was worried about my late wife’s health, and I had made her have several checks on her heart. Each time we were told she was fine, but I had this awful feeling that would not go away. There was a beautiful full moon, and the road was empty and silent, as I walked between two fields of rapeseed flowers in full bloom. I looked up at the moon and I suddenly felt like the Goddess was looking back down at me. I poured out my concerns to Her and I really felt that I was heard. I can not say that I was reassured.

I walked home with the realisation that everything happens for a reason and that I needed to make the best of each day and try to stop worrying. Not that I did at that stage. I fact it was later that year, when I was made redundant, that  my wife said exactly the same words to me. I tried hard to take her advice. I even managed to convince myself that my premonition was just a case of “Nerves”. The following march, my wife had two massive heart attacks and sadly, she passed away.

I cannot remember much of what happened next. My stepson kept me alive, forcing me to eat.  Eventually, I took a job as a self employed sales representative for a company selling mobility scooters. Within a year I was wiped out financially. With the help of my family, I managed to persuade my stepson to go back to London.

I settled down to the task of simply fading away… It was not to be. My Goddess spoke to me again.

I was cooling off after a soak in the tub and sat down at the computer. I had a compulsion to write.

After about five minutes I was looking at the first poem that I ever posted in public.

 

The Goddess Calls

Who are you ?
Strange longing that has crept into my restful soul,
I hear your quiet whisper, but,in words not of my race…
There is nothing in this world is seek,- My cup is full
and yet you call me softly from some distant place.

Are you the whisper in the wind that calls my name ?
The Breaking of the waves against some rocky shore?
Or Moonlit shadows rustling in some country lane.
I feel as …if somehow you’ve called my name before.

Stay !..don’t fade away !
Your gentle torture seems to stir my bones.
I wait and listen in this dying light of day,
Perhaps My Goddess speaks in these soft tones.

Oh that I were not deaf and blind
to all those things on which my spirit soars,
If all the thoughts which cloud my mind were gone,
And only You and I remained as once before.

Patrick Kavanagh
16/04/12

 

 

 

I knew that I was meant to do something to make my life worth living again, but I did not really want to. I was finished with life. I wanted nothing more from it. I stared at the poem on the screen in front of me. I remembered the search that had consumed much of my life, and decided that if I was to stay,- I had to find some way to make a difference to the world. I was compelled to post the poem on a popular social media website. I have been posting ever since.

 

I had joined the Grimsby Pagan Moot when I had moved up from London, and I began to go to meetings again. I became friends with the Tina and it was then that my life started to really change.

I have mentioned earlier that Tina was a medium. She had a vision of an angel and her own spirituality evolved as a result of it. Through her I met several people who were to change my life.

I can see all the links clearly now, in retrospect. Spirit was guiding me on a path, as surely as if the Faeries had held me by the hand and led me to them again. Tina asked me to take her to a shamanic drumming workshop which was being run by  Kevin Guy, a local druid. I was happy to go with her as I had been aware that there was a druid of that name who lived in the village next to mine. Funnily, although he lived less than a mile away from me, I had never been able to find him. When We visited his home, later that year, I realised that he was two fields and about twenty houses away, in a straight line, along the only road to New Holland.

I set off to Cabourne Parva with Tina in a very uncertain frame of mind. I wanted to meet Kevin, but  I tend to be very sceptical. Kevin Guy is tall, with a spectacular beard and a ponytail, but it was the mischief in his eyes that made me wonder a little. However, I was not to be disappointed.

It was an amazing workshop. I began to sense energies in a much more natural way that I had in many years. I saw a little girl in spirit, who turned out to be Tina’s child whom she had lost through miscarriage. Tina saw her too and was quite upset, so we left the workshop and went outside for a while. We were confused when I said I was given the name “ Lucy” as Tina had planned to call her “Danielle”. However,- that her name is now Lucy has been confirmed independently by quite a few mediums since that day,- and without any prompting.

 

It was when we were drumming at the labyrinth at Caboure Parva that something happened that was to have a huge impact on my future. Kevin had promised that a “gift” might be given as we walked the labyrinth. I was unconvinced. There is a photograph by Jayne Culver, in my last article, which I believe was taken moments before I had a very strange experience. I was walking the labyrinth and feeling a little foolish when a voice sounded in my ear. Just one word was spoken, “Laughter!”

It as very clear and very real. It seemed to be coming from a few inches away from my right ear.

Baffled, I said nothing about it to anyone. But, for the next six weeks or so, everything that went wrong brought me to fits of laughter. By the time the “gift” had faded, I was beginning to heal emotionally and learning to enjoy life again. I still had sadness, but it was no longer unrelenting.

 

A few months later, Tina and I visited Cabourne Parva for an afternoon of Buddhist meditation.

There is a beautiful rough-wood stage built in the woods near the “Barn” in Cabourne. The event was being held there. As I lay on the woodland stage,  I was amazed to see hundreds of faeries flying above me. It was hardly what I had expected, but I was later to find out that they had plans for me. Yet again, it was Tina who was helping to guide me on my path. This time it led to Hessle, and Dean Kingett at Spiritual Hart. We went to a psychic demonstration hosted by Eileen Akrill.

She brought my late wife, Frances, through to me, and spoke about a box of treasures hidden in my home.

It was a box of little ornaments and memorabilia which Frances had collected over the years.  Thanks to Tina, I found it and sent it to my eldest stepdaughter. Unknown to me, it contained a ring from her grandmother which she had wanted as a keepsake, but which we had been unable to find. We became friends and Eileen was responsible for my coming into contact with Bill Oliver and writing our first book,  The Faery Portals.

 

The Faery Queen

Wings of finest gossamer that sparkled as she flew,
Silken robes that shimmered brightly in the morning dew.
Pearls of sunlight on the early morning sunlit leaves.
I gazed in admiration at her beauty as her faery spell she weaved.

I stood and watched with joy, and felt again, just like a little boy.
Her singing touched my heart and played with it as if it were a toy.
One fleeting glance and I was hers, I shyly reached to take her hand.
She took me far away to share her native land.

I can not remember any nights or any days.
Just the endless revelry and all the games we played.
It seemed to last all summer long, then I awoke and she was gone,
But in that single dream, I found that fifty years had gone.

Where are those middle years I planned to spend in quiet company?
Where are the friends and family that filled my life with comfort and delight?
There’s no one left to fill my final years with joviality.
A lifetime passed away within a single day and night.

Patrick W Kavanagh

01/07/2013

 

 
art by Boy So Blue graphic Arts and photography