Anxiety and the Black God (2014)
A
friend of mine hosted the Lughnasadh celebration for our multi-tradition ritual group, and she asked me if I’d help her out and take some speaking parts. I accepted, and I made sure to go over my
lines before we gathered. We even practiced
together before the ritual began, which should have meant that I was prepared
for my cues and that the script should have flowed smoothly and beautifully.
Only
it didn’t because naturally I missed my cue and had to stumble to find my place
and get the ritual back on track while everyone waited patiently for me to get
my act together. I was a little
embarrassed of course, but no one really minded (or if they did they were
gracious and didn’t make me feel bad.) But
I’ve been thinking about this moment a lot since the ritual, held at the end of
July. Maybe I missed my cue because I
just wasn’t paying attention and I’m easily distractible, but I’d like to think
that I missed my cue because the ritual was actually working, that the message our
talented hostess was trying to share with the group was coming across to me
loud and clear.
I already wrote about this ritual over at my personal blog, but like a good
ritual should, it’s stuck with me over the past few weeks. As the abundant bounty of summer has shifted
from July and we are now well into August and the promise of a fruitful harvest,
I’ve had a lot to think about and reflect upon.
I think this was an especially important ritual for me to attend (even
though my participation might have been less than stellar.)
The
ritual focused on spirals and changes and wheels and cycles. I’m not the most familiar with Irish
mythology, but from what I understand, the holiday of Lughnasadh is named after
the funeral games that Lugh created in honor to celebrate the life of Tailtiu,
his foster mother. Tailtiu died after
plowing all of Ireland, preparing the land for agriculture and to be used by
humans.
The
ritual included a description of the powers of Crom Dubh and the powers of
Lugh. These are the forces which hold us
back and that move us forward. They are
the energies that are always circling, always spiraling, anxiety and momentum,
momentum and anxiety, a push and pull of protection and fearless daring. Even though we had gone over the ritual
beforehand and I had an idea what the hostess would be talking about, I found
myself hanging onto her every word as she described the ancient dance of Bright
Lugh and Black Crom.
She
described Crom Dubh as those fears that keep us safe – don’t touch fire, don’t
say that thing, don’t spend all of your money, don’t eat that food, don’t take
unnecessary risks, etc. She explained
that while he protects us and keeps us safe, sometimes his protective arm might
stretch a little too far. As a result of
Crom Dubh’s shielding reach, we don’t touch anything,
we don’t say anything, we don’t trust
anyone. We may be safe, sure, but our refuge may be
at the expense of forward motion. Crom
Dubh protects us, but maybe he’s that thing that holds us back, too.
So
during this ritual (with my cue rapidly approaching and me oblivious) I started
thinking and thinking and thinking. What’s
holding me back? And why? What am I anxious about? Is this anxiety too much to the point that I
am frozen, or is it just the right amount to keep me safe? What am I waiting to harvest, and when the
right moment comes, will I be able to act?
Throughout
my own personal experiences as well as my studies with social work, I’ve come
to understand anxiety pretty well. It seems
to plague my family, and my own fight with anxiety is a battle that I have to battle
daily. But I’ve come to understand that
there are different types of anxiety, and different ways to handle these different
types of anxiety. A little anxiety can
be a good thing. It kept our ancestors
from doing stupid things like eating poisonous mushrooms, talking to strangers,
or touching venomous snakes. Anxiety can
be that healthy dose of mindfulness that can keep us aware, alert, and on our toes. Anxiety can keep us safe, guarding us in that
liminal space between the known and unknown.
I
can’t help but wonder if the ancient Irish people understood how anxiety worked,
too. Perhaps they understood that anxiety
can protect us, but surely they understood the dangers of too much protection,
of overwhelming anxiety and the inability to move. This may be the dance of Lugh and Crom Dubh,
of safety and anxiety and daringness and recklessness. As a social worker, I can’t help but wonder
what the ancient Irish solution to anxiety was.
It certainly wasn’t cognitive behavioral therapy or Xanax, but maybe the
ancient solution to anxiety was a powerful ritual shared with a trusted
community, or even chanting and poetry recited like powerful prayers. Or, like today, maybe the solution to anxiety
was something as simple as words of encouragement and reassurance,
understanding and patience.
Since
the end of July I’ve had plenty of time to think about all of those things that
I’m holding onto that are keeping me from moving forward and from enjoying my
harvest. These are the blessings that
Crom Dubh is keeping safe for me in his big black sack, slung across his
crooked back. I can’t say that I’ve come
to any specific or profound conclusions.
I’m quite familiar with my own anxieties, and perhaps that means that I’ve
been familiar with Crom Dubh my whole life.
But anxiety has a new name, and when you know the name of a thing, you
have power over that thing. So maybe
anxiety doesn’t have to be so scary any more.
I can appreciate my anxieties and how they protect me, but the wheel
turns and turns again, and I remember that it’s also important for me to shine
brightly and move forward, to step from the darkness of Black Crom and to the
shining light of Bright Lugh.
I
just hope I don’t miss my cue!
Post Script: Many and endless thanks and
blessings to my dear Druid, Heather Watson, for hosting such a lovely and
meaningful ritual, and for allowing me to share her beautiful words.
This is the voice of Crom Dubh, the King Beneath the Mound.
This is the voice of your will to live,
Your strong and steadfast guardian.
Yesterday we may have suffocated under the weight of him
Tomorrow we may struggle in his grip
But tonight we thank him.
Give Crom Dubh your gift as he passes
Look into his eyes and give him your thanks.
You are the treasure he guards.
You are infinitely fragile and infinitely valuable,
And Crom Dubh does not surrender, does not abandon, does
not yield.
Crom Dubh is always with you,
Guarding you from the vast darkness of chaos and change
that seethes just below your feet,
Warding and protecting you from whatever it is that you
fear most.
You
can find more of Heather’s work at this link:
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