THE CERTAINTY OF A SUNRISE

The Certainty of a Sunrise ÓRLAITH ROE

Shortly after noon on a dull October weekend, I reach out to Raymond of the Pagan Federation of Ireland (PFI). The Atlantic rain comes in from the coast, as it often does, spraying the already battered front windows. Just before I head back to Amsterdam, I confer with a friend who recommends I take a look at the PFI. “You haven’t heard of them?” she asks slightly surprised. I have not. “I mean everyone is a Pagan around here these days” she continues, “It’s having a moment.” 1500 years, give or take, after its mainstream death, Paganism is having a moment. From his home in Kildare, a county just west of Dublin on the east coast of the island, Raymond responds via email. Our back and forth correspondence over four days crafts a clearer picture of neo-paganism in Ireland, and why exactly the organisation has attracted so many new members over the course of the past decade. This pre-Christian belief system is having a revival amongst Celtic countries and beyond; the disconnect with modern religion and churches has been rampant for years, so why now are people turning to neo-paganism? As Raymond puts it, “a very common feeling in discovering Paganism, is the feeling of coming home.” This sense of “home” finds itself at the very core of Paganism’s rebirth. Today we can accept that the Irish Pagan calendar is comprised of, as author and co-founder of the Irish Pagan School Lora O’Brien puts it, two ‘wheel-like’ calendars that run simultaneously to one another; one represents the Four Fire festivals, the other the four Cross Quarters. O’Brien breaks down both wheels like this: the former maintaining a focus on “Hearth, Home and the Otherworld”, and the latter with a focus on “the Land & Sovereignty, and this World.” It is often difficult to assemble a timeline and understanding of pre-Christian Celtic religion; the Celts wrote little to nothing down about their pagan beliefs during this time. There are of course discrepancies about whether certain festivals were linked to Paganism, or to separate cultural or spiritual beliefs before Christianity. To pinpoint exactly the makeup of Paganism before the 19th century is beyond our current reach, but there is little doubt about a broader grouping of Celtic Paganism that has outlasted the arrival of Christianity in order to remain present in the modern world. When I ask Raymond, what drew him to Paganism, his answer is warmly succinct, homely even, “The lack of dogma, and a gradual dawning of my place in relation to the Earth,” he explained, “many Pagans say that they were always Pagan, and that Paganism is the spirituality that they were born with, with it taking them time and life experience to realise it.” This is the same sentiment that echoes throughout the revival of Pagan festivities every spring and late autumn and the re-birth of ceremony around the winter and summer solstices. It is not difficult nowadays to find a Samhain festival of fire and light (particularly in Ireland and Scotland), of people wrapped in warm knits and cloaks on a damp and crisp October 31st, feeding the names of their ancestors to the bonfire around which they gather. Halloween’s original predecessor is steadily returning; after the ceremony and festivity, people head for food and drinks, traditional music, the swapping of stories. The night’s celebrations are rooted in community and the steadfast belief that all who gather belong. There has been a clear resurgence in neo-paganism over the past decade, namely in Celtic countries, but also in Nordic regions. I wonder, was there a precise turning point, a shift in cultural opinion that can explain this rebirth? Raymond cannot pinpoint an exact moment in time, but views it instead as a gradual sea change, “As societies have become more secular, exploring alternative spiritual paths has led many to Paganism,” he says, “Paganism offers a deep and personal connection to one's land and ancestors, and a feeling of being rooted and permanently in connection with one's surroundings, supporting one's emotional growth; a feeling that can frequently be absent in a seemingly disposable and transient world.” The sense of ‘community’ present in modern Paganism has been a huge part in its new lease of life. In a world of increasing pressures on one’s wellbeing, a growing detachment from any form of faith, and a soaring sense of impending doom, the idea of being part of a community bound by understanding and appreciation for nature does not seem all that bad. The grounding character of Paganism seems to attract both lost souls and found beings; there is nothing that captures this essence more than the Fire Festivals. As a child I grew up fascinated by the Seán na Gealaí turnip heads, by tales of the opened burial mounds, and of our ancestors preparing to warn off the wandering dead souls who returned to roam the earth, marking the arrival of the Gaelic winter. However, the true meaning of the Fire Festivals like Samhain and Bealtaine go far beyond tales and stories. As is frequently quoted as an authentic explainer, the fires of these festivals were, “a kind of imitative or sympathetic magic – they mimicked the Sun, helping the “powers of growth” and holding back the decay and darkness of winter”. They are the constant reminder that light returns and will continue to do so as long as the earth revolves. There are many personal meanings to the festivals for individual Pagans; I ask Raymond what they mean to him. “For myself, the fires represent an externalised form of the life force that dwells within everyone,” he explains, “Samhain and Bealtaine were traditionally a time of cattle relocation from summer to winter feeding grounds for Irish pastoral peoples. The livestock were driven between two fires to remove parasites from their hides, so they are also seen as a purification, and a remembrance of ancestors who have passed.” Like many people across the world, the sense of suffocation and loneliness stemming from the pandemic began to grow on me over the past few weeks and months. For many, the looming seasonal depression approaching does not help in the bolstering of spirits. Raymond seems to possess a balanced mindset heading into the darkness of the oncoming winter, and with younger generations increasingly losing faith in churches and organised religion, I wonder how a Pagan faces up to the isolation and fear of the coronavirus. “Every winter is dark,” Raymond offers, “and many feel closed in by the darkness, and are unable or unwilling to venture into it. But social isolation is a constant thing, not restricted to winter.” In the past, as is common in many regions, a society lacking in capital wealth and ‘power’ in the traditional sense forges their own path in everyday life; community becomes the focal point of people, not colonisation or war, expansion or conquering. Storytelling surfaces as the survival of a clan, of a nation. The same goes for Pagan Celts. “The culture of storytelling from Samhain to Bealtaine was a way of people gathering to share their experiences in the dark months,” Raymond says, “and to prevent any one person from feeling isolated, even if they lived alone.” How does this apply to the current global situation then? Raymond draws a parallel to modern communication methods, “[they] make this connection to others easier to maintain, but many feel embarrassed to reach out for help, and so a reason to gather, even online, is a good thing for mental health and wellbeing.” For years now there has been talk about turning the Samhain weekend in Ireland into a concrete cultural event by the government, attracting tourists from all over the world, similar to St. Patrick’s Day (but with a notably less tacky and careless feel, and a greater emphasis on mythology and folklore). The original Halloween festival has long been a source of mystic pride and wonder, and with the dwindling power of the Catholic church in the country, this may finally be possible. To solidify the officiality and celebration of Samhain, both nationally and internationally, would mark a momentous shift in cultural norms. In Ireland at least, it would cement the growing embrace of Paganism as a spirituality welcoming to all. The coronavirus pandemic has led to humans reflecting on life more than ever before. We have all reached new conclusions, unearthed fresh revelations and thought deeply about our futures. It has been the little comforts and delights that has let many of us survive thus far. The absence of light in the winter ahead presents a challenge for all. With this in mind, how then, did the importance placed on light by Pagans establish the festivals and rituals that came to be? In my quest to seek renewed hope, I ask Raymond what these Pagan festivals can offer us today. “The amount of light marked the changing of the seasons, and were important markers for those who, of necessity, lived in close harmony with the land.” he says, “The idea of observing a seasonal cycle has largely disappeared from industrialised nations, as most people do not farm for a living … By connecting to one's own land, one can help it to overcome the challenges that modern life imposes on it.” One can take it that the connection to the land here implies that we are all creatures of the earth, and to disregard our nature is to disregard our home; this in itself is a spirituality. As my correspondence with Raymond neared its conclusion, nature seemed to present itself differently to me. As October turned into November, my final walks at home were filled with a renewed sense of connection and relief. The fields surrounding my house were damp and shining, sparkling raindrops jumped out at me amidst the darkening days; as if preparing for battle, nature seemed to side with me, pulling me close to its promise of a better future. Is this the key to our survival? The siding with, and protection of our environment? Raymond seems to think so, “If we all take personal responsibility for creating a better environment locally, we will all benefit.” It is true that the Pagans of Pre-Christian times depended on the return of light, and the certain arrival of brighter days in spring. There are a multitude of reasons that explain the rebirth of Paganism in Ireland and beyond, but one key factor is more prominent than any – it offers hope. Raymond understands why many will struggle to cope with the oncoming winter, but he urges people to remember one thing, “Every sunrise brings hope,” he says, “and the more we listen to the needs of the land on which we depend for our own survival, the more sunrises each one of us will get to witness.”