Elen Sentier ~ Wye's Woman

My drum ... I've been waiting for her for 45 years. Elen, the deer goddess, has been my patron and mentor all my life. She has taken various names and guises for me over the years but always the Lady of the Deer Trods has shown me her paths. Another of her names is Elen of the Hosts, the lady of warriors, the warriors of the rainbow who Arthur meets as he sails through the Caers of the Lower World in his journeying. The drum is both a caller and weaver. I have worked with drum for all my life but I've never had a drum made drum her skin. I've worked with Gwydion all my life too. Again he comes in many forms and with many names. His tree is the Ash, the tree of keys, keys to doors visible and invisible. Elen is Doorkeeper, keeper of doors and thresholds: one of her names is Vivien, threshold keeper. My drum's frame is made of the wood of tree of keys. My drum's skin is made of the hide of the threshold keeper. When we work together we will sing the ways across t...

I felt the need to talk Holly Talk after chatting with a friend on Facebook who had a "situation" with her Holly. Gawain, Gawain, tumbling down, falling, falling, falling.  Here is a Hall. A King’s Hall.  The smell of smouldering peat and apple-wood,  of roast meats, old bones and wet dogs.   Where am I?   Here, says the voice inside your head. Come in! Come in! I welcome you.   There is a lady, dark and fair, with raven hair.  Green eyes melt you.   Sitting now, you hold the wooden table hard, fearing to float again,  the Hall will melt and you be falling, falling, falling.   Ba-Boom! Thunder at the doors.   Ba-Boom! Again the thunder roars.   Ba-Boom! Open!   The doors fly open, wind whistles the snow around your ears.  Blind, you see the darkness fill the doorway.  Your heart makes thunder softly in your breast, ...

by Elen Sentier Quiet, rustling wind, purple-grey clouds, curlews, larks, the sound of the river, the whisper of the trees, the crackle of the fire … We’re here … waiting … watching There are spirits all around us and the Spirit of the Land waits at the edge of our circle to see what we will do: she waits at the edge of darkness. There is nothing to do … as yet. Waiting is what we do. Learning to wait, full of expectancy but with no expectations, is what this beginning-eve is about. Eastern traditions tend to talk of such times as “clearing” but, for us, it’s much more than that. The eve of a happening like this, a coming-together with Spirit, is like a moment of conception; it’s a collecting-together, an opening-up, allowing otherworld to fill you up with expectancy without having any idea what the happening is going to be like, what you’ll actually do, experience, see, feel. We sit, almost quivering with stillness, Neither inside nor out Neither naked nor clad ...

  More Spirit Walk pics here thanks to Eva W-i