Letter from Olivia Robertson
Search for the Source of the Druid Clan
I was sitting meditating on a ghastly menu offered to us on the radio, of possible happenings for which the British Government were preparing for. We in Ireland are next door. . . a smallpox bomb, an ordinary bomb, anthrax. It sounded like the book of revelations which my father and I used to study during the Second World War. I was sending a friend for a visit to his mother in England and I told him "people c (words missing) have during threats of war and disasters. That which is hidden in the murky recesses of our consciousness surfaces. We go slightly mad with conspiracy theories, suspicion of our neighbour and xenophobia."
So how was I to bring faith of the Goddess to bear on our present global situation? It is true that what we call the "real world" is a hologram of cosmic reality: dreams, projections of spirits trying out experiments in evolution. Our planet is a kindergarten, a remand centre, a school where we learn from experience that which only experience can give. Some have recourse to that still centre within and withdraw from this world - the illusory world of which is not the living earth but a compost of dreams, evil or good. There are millions of monks and nuns. However, the way of the world is to accept our worldly dramas, works of art which we ourselves help create! Our growing minds need stimulations, challenges, discovery. Our bodies want a full earthly experience. In fact, we presume to draw stars down from the mountains of earth - as does the incarnate Goddess Tara. I wished to bring the very best help I could these days and I was unexpectedly helped by a French camera crew. Now the BBC crews are conscientious, serious, do every scene over and over again. The USA crews are sharp, rapid and technically efficient. The Irish are cheery and convivial. But the French have the culture, that they bring to a modern media. And it was their delving into what we actually do in the Druid Clan of Dana, what we really believe in, what we genuinely felt, that meant something to all of us Irish who worked with them. For without deep understanding, true art does not really exist. And true art brings us by the route of the Muses to the still centre which our unique innate Deity. The effect when they departed was to face the problem of human suffering, evil, greed, violence and fear, by returning to my roots.
Curiously, the ancient site which had been shown to me by the mentor of my brother and myself, Daniel Fox, had been barred to me for forty years. Yet hidden from me was the faery seat, the Bees Rock, the micro cross on a boulder, the altar, the well. The impenetrable barrier of briars, undergrowth and barred wire. Although the path by the River Slaney should have been right of way, the local farmer thought otherwise, but the day after the French crew left, my friend Michael suggested we should try and get to the source of our Druid Clan. I said we must not return for boots, just go! So off we went, me in a long purple cloak. The going was hard, we climbed over a padlocked gate. There was a steep fall into the river. On and on we went. I felt I was on a vision quest. Suddenly we were there, seventy-five years ago it was yesterday. The water rushed over the weir. In the River the faery seat was rich with plants. Huge rocks overshadowed our precarious path. But what finally gave my sense of fulfilled adventure - a cave which I had never seen before. Someone had been up before clearing out the area, leaving behind a rake. The cave was naturally formed by a gigantic rock split down the middle in a chasm. Rain had formed a deep stream that emerged from a black tunnel. Michael went to explore and I leaned on a rock covered with brilliant green moss. I looked into the dark tunnel and knew there was a faery portal to the underworld.
The answer to our worldly problems need not be to free ourselves from the world. The world is the spider's web that conceals the earth mother from us all. Eternity is now.
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[#108 Beltaine 2003 Isian News.]
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