Friday, February 4, 2011

Oleum of Isolde

For me this year Brigid started with a dream of a woman of the well. A healer long shrouded in time and mythology: Isolde Queen of both Ireland and Cornwall. Most of what we know of her comes from poetic stories and always entwined with Tristan and Mark. I was determined to seek her out, just her. As a reiki master and as someone who uses herbs and essential oils as not only a magic/ aromatherapy tool but of one of healing, I am keen on hearing her voice. Her guidance is important to me because we live in a time when pharmaceuticals are dispensed like candy and often times cause other issues in the body that are harmful, sometimes lethal.

 I felt drawn and compelled to meet this woman. I drew upon the only tool I know to accomplish this task: going into faery and asking to be introduced. If lived she in the time of the old Gods, Brigid would know her. And know her She did. Isolde, daughter of both Druid and Queen. Isolde's infirmary was filled with vials of oils, jars of unguents, dried herbs neatly hung and then stored in sealed jars. There were tools of cutting and tools of sewing and pulling out. I felt as though I were safe in her hands should injury inflict me. Everything looked clean and everything looked put to order. Everything looked as though nature had whispered their secrets to her and she looked as though she knew what to do with them.
Upon leaving faery and coming back to myself, I noticed that my potted rosemary bush was in a full bloom and I could hear the beginnings of how best to honor the woman I had just met: do what I do best, make an oil that bears her name and captures her essence and ask her for her blessings upon it. My Brigid ritual sprang to full form. I went to work. I pulled upon some of the smells I remembered from her infirmary and the honey smell from her hair was impossible for me to duplicate.  Everything pulled together including the chant I wrote to call her forth as though it were something I had brewing in the back of my mind for years. 
The songs had been sung, the prayers and incantations spoken, the energy poured fourth and all in time for the hour I had set out to perform my Brigid ritual. It was time to ask for blessings upon the work I put forth. I will not go into details as they are intensely personal and may have no meaning for you, but guaranteed this is one Brigid ritual that will echo in my mind for years to come. 
She has asked that I create two more oils: one for her true heart and one with them both entwined together and that I hold these recipes and pass them on to my daughter. I told I would. Tristan will be ready for brewing to greet the summer solstice.

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