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CONTENTS To Copyright or not to Copyright

The Hero's Wound Nordic Symphony (drawing) Were the British Isles Named after a Goddess Masks, Androgyny, and other matters; a discussion

What now of Swallowhead? Hoops (poem) Plus reviews, miscellany, etc. Front cover by Lou Hart.

Jan Henning John Rowan Monica Sjoo Brian Slade Tristan Gray Hülse and Jan Henning Jill Smith Hernán Turner

© 1995 Daniel Cohen and Jan Henning. Individual writings and drawings write lo Wood and Water for permission to reprint.

by their creators. Please

Wood and Water, volume 2, number 50. Spring 1995 A Goddess-centred feminist-influenced pagan magazine

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tt Editorial, Spring Equinox 1995

High-horse riding is physically safer than any other kind; at least until people see what you wrote as a result.

Having been given a free hand by my co-editor, I've chosen a rather personal and offbeat high-horse to ride; see my article To Copyright or not to Copyright in this issue. Nonetheless, I think I'm asking generally for Pagans to stop occasionally, and ask themselves what they're doing and where they're coming from. I've probably said before (another of my high-horses) that one thing I don't ask for, as a Pagan, is certainty. If I'd wanted that I could've joined any fundamentalist branch of any 'big' religion. I don't want to belong where children are threatened with death for the crime of 'blasphemy", or where points of theology are decided ewer the point/barrel of a gun.

But the price I — w e all —pay is the obligation of constant reappraisal. This includes our own ethics no less than research into our deities. We need to know, as clearly as it is possible to be, whether something dates from 1066, 1966, or 1986. And, having found out, we need to be honest about it — especially if the 'it ' in question is someone's creative work. Of course there are always grey areas, and in these one should, I think, try to be honourable.

Honour: an elastic concept. Another high-horse. I'll ride that one another time. Jan Henning

WOOD AND WATER SUBSCRIPTION RATES If there is an X in this box | 1 your subscription has run out with this issue.

We hope you will renew.

RATES. Single copies £1.25. $3 USA (postage included). Annual sub (4 issues), £5 UK. Overseas surface mail £6, air mail £9. Overseas by sterling payment or by foreign notes, rounded up as necessary. We CANNOT accept cheques or money orders not in British currency. FREE to prisoners. Please make UK cheques payable to Wood and Water.

ADDRESS, c/o Daniel Cohen. 77 Parliament Hill, London NW3 2TH. or c/o Jan Henning, 18 Aylesham Rd.. Orpington. Kent BR6 OTX.

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TO COPYRIGHT OR NOT TO COPYRIGHT: Pagan Folk Process or Pagan Theft?

"Thanks to: ... Martin Girthy, the singer whose version of Famous Flower of Servingmen (Child, no. 106), more complete than any in Child. I've based mine on — with his kind permission." (Acknowledgement by Ellen Kushner at the end of her newel Thomas the Rhymer [ 1990]).

Folksong and the copyright laws have been uneasy bedfellows ever since Sir Walter Scott 'collected' songs from old women, published some as they stood, and tinkered with others, passing them off as his own work. Conversely, he also passed his own work off as ancient ballads. In all cases, he received the revenue from the publications. Most later song collectors have similarly benefitted from some or all of these practices.

Their motives are mixed. Some, like Sharp and Baring Gould, censored anything erotic for drawing-room consumption, substituting words of their own devising. Some, like Martin Carthy, are still slipping their own ballad rewrites into 'the tradition'. The "more complete" version utilised by Ellen Kushner for the plot of Thomas the Rhymer (see quote abewe) was substantially re-plotted by Girthy, who changed a standard 'border-widow cross-dresses' plot into a heavily supernatural tale, with bits borrowed from other ballads.

Clearly, Kushner doesn't realise this; or considers the information too unimportant to pass on to her readers. So already we are faced with a 'second-hand' account of a ballad being passed on as 'traditional', when it is at best a hotch-potch of traditional bits. Carthy does this anonymously, and with the best of motives. He believes that the plots of ancient tales are 'in the aether", and that they happen to light on him,. He has thus completely reconstructed The Ballad of Jack Roland from a couple of lines of Child Roland quoted by Scott, together with the traditional plot-line. May I say immediately that I have nothing against his position as regards the ¿etherial origins of tales; indeed. I share it. The trouble starts when 'the aether' get confused with the ballad source-singer; a crucial point is who gets paid for and credited with the result.

It is easy to condemn the (mainly male) song collectors for taking credit from their (mainly female) source-singers. But is we do, then — folkics or pagans — we should ensure that we keep our own houses in order. Particular care must be taken when a song (as in Kushner's source above) crosses the Atlantic. It must take its pedigree with it.

I was outraged recently on listening lo a review CD that had been sent to WW from a transatlantic source. I will not name it. It doesn't deserve the publicity; and, in any case, what has been done may well be actionable at law. I set aside the abysmal standard of both voice and musicianship. These are natural disasters which may overtake anyone.

I cannot, however, forgive two cases of semi-plagiarism, and one outright suppression of an author's attribution. I hope these are due to ignorance and non-existent research rather than deliberate malice.

The suppressed author is one Martin Graebe. a rather old-style, academic folkie who was around the folk clubs in the late 70s and early 80s. He was not a prolilic songwriter, and was mainly known lot Jack in the Green, a very traditional-sounding number, which was picked up by Martin Wyndham-Read et al., and used on a quite influential LP called Maypoles to Mistletoe. This also contained a number of traditional 'seasonal' ritual songs, a poem by Herrick set to music, and other contemporary but traditional-sounding songs. All songs were fully attributed on the record and sleeve.

The CD lists Jack in the Green as traditional. So Mr. Graebe, who is not a well-known or (presumably) wealthy song writer like Paul Anka. misses out on any royalties. Does he even know his song is being recorded?

The other two songs fall into the grey area of 'adaptations' of existing songs; and it is here that Pagans may be especially culpable. Many years ago. when I was young in paganism. I heard of a song entitled Lady of the Dance. "Oh." explained the highly respected thealogian who referred to it, "we women reclaimed that one." Regrettably, the song is a mirror-image not of a traditional song but of Lord of the Dance, a poem written, and set to the traditional Shaker tune The Gift to be Simple, by Sidney Girter in the late 60s. Lord of the Dance is Girter's best-known composition, and, being a symbolic autobiography of Christ, was taken up

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by Sunday schools and choirs very enthusiastically. Lady of the Dance is therefore not a feminist-spiritualist 'reclamation' (whatever that means in this context) but something verging on a parody. The CD has gone a stage further, by making their number a sort of 'Lord and Lady of the Dance', thus taking it into realms Gardnerian, I presume. Now I am told that the author ai Lady of the Dance originally acknowledged Carter (as indeed Girier acknowledged the source of the tune he used). The CD perpetrators acknowledge: themselves, the late Gwydion Pendderwen, a number of other names like Taliessin, and the ubiquitous 'trad'. It's unlikely in this case that any royalties would be involved, but at the very least it is only good manners to acknowledge all sources, especially if one of them is the original poet. And if you don't know your sources you should take steps to do some research.

The third song gives yet another twist on copyright. Entitled Circles, it is credited to Gwen Zak who copyrighted it in 1977. In 1973 the Taverners put out an LP on Trailer. One of them, Alan Bell, composed a song — both words and tune — entitled Windmills which appeared on the LP. On the CD Zak has used Bells' tune unaltered. Here are the two choruses:

ZAK BELL Around and around and around turns the good Earth Around and around and around went the big sails All things must change as the seasons go by Turning the shafts and the great wooden wheels We are the children of the Lord and the Lady Creaking and groaning the millstones kept turning Whose mysteries we know, yet we'll never know why. Grinding to flour the good corn from the fields.

One of Bells' verses also begins "The Lancashire lads worked hard on the good Earth". Now what is this? — possibly an American pagan visiting the UK in the mid-70s, and assuming that every song sung in a folk club is automatically traditional; therefore fair game. Possibly theft.

But enough of this. I've spent far too long on a CD that hardly deserves a hearing. One final point on it, though. If this particular group of people had just kept the songs within the confines of their own coven meeting there would have been no problem with copyright, since it would not have been a public performance. Furthermore, they could have enjoyed themselves without inflicting their low standards on the public. What has ineffable meaning within the context of one's own ritual means nothing when, shorn of the context, it appears in the outside world. Within the ritual context standards don't matter. They are irrelevant. What matters is the experience.

Some Pagans and some folkies alike hark back to a time when humans lived in small communities, sharing their creative experience. What was good for one was good for all, and songs arose from the community rather than the individual. In this context 'the folk process", whereby anything from odd words to whole verses are changed around, often unconsciously, as the song is transmitted, makes complete sense. It is also easy to see how sets of new words came to be composed for existing tunes. Indeed, many traditional tunes are utilised in just this way on the folk scene now.

However, if there was such a scenario once, it no longer obtains. It may not even be such an attractive proposition if individual creativity were subordinated lo 'the common good'. One is reminded of the position of créatives under Stalin. So today new bargains must be struck, and new methods of both honouring and having honour must be beaten out.

Jan Henning (The problems discussed by Jan are not a matter of traffic in one direction only. Charlie Murphy is a

fine American singer-songwriter, who has written some very powerful pagan and gay songs. One of his songs is best known as sung by Christy Moore, who does acknowledge him. But a well-known British pagan songbook gives the song without acknowledging Charlie — / am not sure if even Christy is acknowledged — although it is now in its second edition, and I gave the correct attribution to the editor after seeing the first edition. The name of the song? —The Burning Times. Daniel)

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THE HERO'S WOUND

Once upon a time, a king's son was walking along a country road when he saw a band of women ahead of him. They looked wild and menacing, and he felt fear within him. They bore down upon him, screaming "Woman hater! Woman killer!" and he tried to run away. But they came after him and would not let him get away. They clawed at him with their fingernails and bit at him with their teeth, and held on to him from every angle. Eventually he wrenched free and ran as fast as his legs could carry him back to the palace, he had got a number of wounds, most of which healed up after a few days, but there was one deep wound in his neck which would not heal, no matter what anyone did. So his father gave him his blessing to go forth to find a cure.

He ventured far and wide, but could find no help. One day, at dusk, he came to a huge haystack, bigger than any he had seen before. "I shall be safe here for the night," he said to himself, and settled down under his mantle. As he lay asleep, a vision of his dead mother came to him, and held out her hand towards him. He said "I hate you. Mother, for what you did lo me. Go away!", and she vanished at once. When he woke up, he was troubled by what he had done, and he felt guilty and ashamed.

Again he travelled over hill and dale until he came to a cave at dusk. It was bigger than any cave he had seen before, and it had all kinds of little niches and alcoves within it, just right for his needs. "I shall be safe here for the night," he said to himself. He curled up in a niche which just fitted him, and went to sleep. In a dream, the Great Goddess came to him, and held out her hand to him. But he was frightened, and shrank away from her. She withdrew her hand and vanished in an moment. When he woke up, he thought that perhaps he had done the wrong thing, and was troubles, and regretted what he had done.

Now he was travelling in a far distant country, far from anything familiar. One night he was sleeping in a stable, the biggest he had ever seen, with plenty of room for a thousand horses, and plenty of room for him in a corner of the loft. As he slept, a vision of the Horned God came to him. The Horned God looked strong and kind, and a smile was on his face as he sat among his animals. He reached out towards the prince in an encouraging way. The prince was much in fear, and did not know how to act. He stood his ground, and gradually began to feel more trust. He still did not know what to do, but eventually managed to say "Hail, great spirit, come to my aid!" The Horned God touched his neck, and instantly it began to heal. The prince could feel the great blessing all through his body. He could feel himself changing. He could feel all his wounds healing. He could feel his smile becoming like the smile of the Horned God. When he woke up he headed for home.

On the way back, he came again to the great cave, and it looked so strong and so protective that he knew he would feel safe there. He went to sleep, and again the Great Goddess came to him and led out her hand. But this time he felt no terror, because he could allow himself to look into her eyes and see the merriment and compassion there. He held out his hand in return, and as her hand touched his he felt a warmth and a tingle and excitement he had never known. It ran all through him like an electric coat, a coat of shocks and tingles. It was as if little tongues of fire were running all over his skin, as if energy were streaming through all his channels. When he woke up, he knew he had changed even more. He saw a snake moving into the back of the cave, but he was not afraid of it.

Later he came again at dusk to the giant haystack, and decided to sleep under it once more, as it looked safe and welcoming. He fell asleep instantly, and dreamed of his mother. She held out her hand towards him, and he held out his hand in return. As the hands touched, he could feel forgiveness flowing like a stream of warmth between them. He felt that all was well, and all was well, and all manner of things were were well. He could look into her eyes and see himself in them. There was no hate any more, only love, and life.

The next morning, the prince set out again, and soon came to a place where the women met. They were dancing in a circle, and did not look menacing at all. He came up closer to them, and one of them separated from the circle and came to him. " hat manner of man are you?" she asked. "I am a man who has healed his wound," he replied. "It is good," she said, "now go and tell other men what you have learned." He set off again, and soon reached the palace.

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When he told the king his father what had happened, the king was greatly troubled. He took off the golden neckplate he always wore, and showed his son the wound which had been troubling him —sometimes more, sometimes less — for thirty years. He led his son to the throne, and sat him down on it. "Hold the kingdom," he said, "until I return." Then he set off on his own quest. And the prince ruled the land well.

John Rowan (John is a long-time reader of WW, and a writer on psychology, spirituality, and men's issues. We are

glad to give him good wishes on his seventieth birthday, on March 31st.)

The journal of the Pagan Federation used to be called The Wiccan, because the PF was founded by Wiccans. Now that its members come from many branches of paganism, that title feels inappropriate. They have therefore changed the name to Pagan Dawn. With a new editor and support team, and changes in production, this is vitually a new magazine. It is well worth getting. Details in our exchange listings.

Quest (see our exchange listings) is erne of the longest-running pagan magazines, edited by Marian Green, who is well known for her books and courses. We give her our best wishes on the hundredth issue, which came out in December. With the recent issue 101 the format has changed from A4 to A5.

Tree Spirit have now acquired some land in the Welsh border country. They are using it to create a mixed woodland for ecological and conservational purposes. They hope it will be a place where people can come to relax and enjoy nature, and also to stay for a few days. They will be holding an Easter moot and camp April 14th ro 22nd. This is primarily to work on the land. For more information contact Shelley on 0121 356 2206. See also their exchange listing.

Robin's Greenwood Gang will be holding a series of magical camps this summer, from Beltane to Autumn Equinox, mostly for three or lour days. For more details contact George Firsoff, 96 Church Rd., Redfield, Bristol 5.

Gordon 'the Toad" MacLellan will be giving a workshop Let the Animals Dance in Milton Keynes on June 10th. In this course, for new and experienced dancers alike, the group work their way into and out of animal characters, finishing with a ceremony to call the animals in and let them dance. Cost £12—20. For more information contact Gordon at 5 Walshs Manor. Stantonbury, Milton Keynes MK14 6BU. phone 01908 316304.

The Dragon Trust, who produce The Dragon Chronicle (see our exchange listings), have published Worme Worlde; the dragon trivia source book. This 22 page A5 booklet is filled with snippets of information about dragons from all ewer the world. Price £2.75.

The eco-magick group, also called Dragon, are holding a series of Dragon Talks, 7.30pm on the last Thursday of the month at the Plough, Museum St. London WCl. Cost £2 (concessions £1). March 30th, Adrian Harris (founder of Dragon) on Sacred Ecology. April 27th, Bernadette Valley (founder of Women's Environmental Network) on Ecofeminism in a Changing World. May 25th, Shane Collins (Green Party candidate) on Green Politics and the DIY Culture.

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WERE THE BRITISH ISLES NAMED AFTER A GODDESS?

(While the following article is more speculative than our usual articles, we felt the speculation and related information was interesting enough lo publish. Eds.)

Is it any wonder that knowledge of the inhabitants in prehistory of what is now called the British Isles is dark and confused, and fast receding into human-genetic-memory of the past? It is said that their religious tenets were never committed to writing, and all we know of their rites and ceremonies is derived from obscure hints and uncertain conjectures. Yet there are very ancient references to a pagan Druidic/Celtic goddess named Brid or Bride, and there is later cross-pollination with Christianity's St. Bridget or Brigit (both in the Christian and pagan contexts there are many spellings of her name); some of these mysteriously refer to her as Brid, Bride, or Bridgit "of the isles". For centuries this intriguing enigma of a title has been thought by scholars to reflect the numerous churches, nunneries, and other religious establishments, founded in Bridgit's name on certain small islands and islets situated just off the coast of the British Isles. The glaring weakness in such a hypothesis is that it can only hold good if scholars deliberately blindfold and blinker themselves, and totally ignore the existence of other equally ancient religious establishments dedicated to St. Bridgit. found not only on islands but widespread throughout the inland areas of the whole of the British Isles. For this reason I consider it to be a very suspect theory, and as the most difficult of apparently hopeless problems always had a special attraction for me. I began searching around in Druidic/Celtic arcana for possible archaeological and archive evidence with which to formulate an alternative hypothesis, one that better fits and explains the very few known historic facts and the numereius associated very puzzling legends and traditions.

The huge volume. Folklore, Myths, and Legends of Britain (Readers Digest 1973) makes the point (page 156) that the Celts regarded all islands as sacred. I consequently reasoned that the islands Britain and Ireland, now collectively referred to as the British Isles, mast therefore have had a very special significance to the Celts. My research into the most mysterious distant lost past of the British Isles, for the most part so ancient that only legend and archaeology can record it, strongly suggest that those islands anciently referred to as "Bridgit Isles" were no less than the whole of the British Isles. In support of this, I note that Eleanor Hull, in Folklore of the British Isles (1928), says that no goddess had a more widespread cult in the British Isles than Brigit, whence any goddess was called by that name. The name, which is derived from Brig, broadly means 'the High One'.

I very respectfully submit to scholars that, under one name derived from Brig, in very ancient times all of what we now call the British Isles was one great Celtic témenos, a huge holy ground. This is perhaps why in Gaelic the word brig-brigh can have any or all of the following meanings at once: virtue, power, and essence and strength of a spiritual kind. It is my humble opinion that in the Druidic/Celtic arcana, the Otherworld or Underworld of ancient wisdom and many spoken but unwritten secrets, the pre-Druidic and Druidic/Celtic population of the British Isles was most probably called in the ancient speech something like Dridgiters or Bridons. This was later corrupted to Prydain, as in "Ynys Prydain", the Isle of Prydain/Britain, and finally to Britons; the archaic original meaning being the people (Devotees) of the goddess Brig, Brid, or Bride. It is widely acknowledged that the powerful confederacy of Celtic tribes in the north of Britain collectively called themselves Brigantes. meaning 'Devotees of the goddess Brigantia. Brigit, Bride' (see The Folklore of the Scottish Highlands by Anne Ross). I simply hypothesise that a similar spoken but unwritten Brig/Bride derived name may once have applied to all the Celtic tribes that anciently settled in and populated the Brilish/Bridgit Isles. In summary, I suggest that, by a series of very plausible errors, over many centuries a name something like the Bridgit Isles became changed to British Isles.

According to Eckenstein (A Spell of Words; studies in language, bearing on customs), many words in passing from one people to another underwent changes in sound, and hence in spelling. The Celtic languages are distinguished as "Q" or 'P" languages, according to their use of these sounds in the same word. These changes are usually attributed to the different dates at which the Celts left their home country. But Eckenstein is of the opinion that such variations came about through peculiarities of pronunciation among the peoples on whom the Celts foisted their speech. Few people today realise that the uncertainly as to the q or p sound produced the phrase slill heard today as "mind one's p 's and q's".

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In some cases the sound b alternates with p and q bridging apparent differences in name. Aristotle used the word 'Britannic' (De Mundo), to the Irishman the inhabitants of Britain are "Cruthni', to the Welsh they are 'Prydni'; thus we have a change from b to q and p, as well as t to th and d in the same word. The modification of a word or name owing to peculiarities of pronunciation among later comers is borne out by the researches of Edouard Philipon (Les Ibères).

By a truly amazing survival of ancient pagan ritual, or alternatively by an even more amazing coincidence or accident, to this very day British women who get married, even under the roof of a Christian church, are ceremoniously given for that most special day the title of Bride, the name of a very ancient pagan goddess.

By what may be no more than a very strange fluke of historic continuity, this ensures that, by accident, design, or pure coincidence, those Bridegrooms living in the British Isles marry a woman named after the very goddess whom their ancestors, if they are of Celtic origin, worshipped in the long-lost most distant past. If the Bride is also of Celtic origin all the better, for, although these days the marriage ceremony takes place in a Christian context, it still follows and honours almost to the letter the ancient ceremonial ritual of the joining of the female human representative of the goddess Bride to her loving worshipping human Bride-groom. In Gaelic the servant of Bride, her herald, is the Gilliebrighde. Historians will recall that Queen Victoria had a gillie, her Scottish attendant, servant, and very close friend John Brown; in other words the servant of Queen Victoria was Gilliejohn or Gilliebrown.

Christian priests have, knowingly or unknowingly, for centuries performed a pagan Celtic-style Druidic wedding ceremony, a ritualistic pact joining a woman ritually called Bride for a day to a man who, as a result of being joined to her, is ritually called the Bridegroom in her (and the goddess Bride's) honour. In essence the Christian wedding ceremony seems to be based on a very ancient pact, specifically designed to encourage and the birth in wedlock of children — future potential brides and bridegrooms whose mother and father have been ritually blessed and dedicated to the British goddess Bride. Let no man, or the new religion Christianity, rend asunder this groom of Bride from his love-goddess ritual representative of Bride. By an amazing coincidence, or perhaps by not so amazing design, paganism based on the worship of the goddess Bride still continues very clearly to hold hands across the centuries in this Christianised wedlock ceremony.

In other Christian rituals we can also see forms derived from reverence for the goddess Bride. Indeed, in the British Isles the aura of Bride lingers still. In ancient times Bride or Brigid was called Y Ladi Wen, the white lady. Girls on being confirmed are dressed in white to look as much like brides (and the goddess Bride) as possible, and believers are taught that Christ is the bridegroom of the Church, which is his bride. Pious maidens and nuns love to call themselves, and indeed often believe that they actually are, the brides of Christ. In some cases when a novice nun finally takes the veil she actually dresses as a bride for the ceremony, and in doing so unwittingly also dresses as the goddess Bride.

Anne Ross (op. cit.) records that in ancient limes on St. Bride's Eve the girls of each township used to make a sheaf of corn into a corn dolly, which they then carried in procession singing a song in honour of the patron saint of childbirth. The doll was called Bride or Brideag, little Bride or Brigit. Very significant is the fact that this ceremony was not considered as fully potent unless, like modern day brides and the goddess Bride herself, all the girls wore white dresses.

In ancient pre-Christian writings it is said that "Bride of their love walked all in white". Current accepted etymological opinion holds that Albion, an ancient name for the British Isles, derives from the Celtic words alb, meaning cliff, and ban, meaning white, perhaps a reference to the white cliffs of Dover. I suggest, though, that alb could be from the Latin albus, a full-length Bride-like vestment of white linen worn by Catholic clergy. As to the second syllable, note that in Anglo-Saxon the word for a proclamation is ban, which is why to this very day we still call the 'marriage banns'.

Of course, all surviving and recorded associations with the goddess Bride may be no more than pure coincidence, but surely so many coincidences are unlikely. It would therefore be very foolish for scholars to dismiss my Brigid/Brilish Isles hypothesis out of hand.

Although some archaeologists, historians, and associated researchers are aware of at least some of the information about the ge)ddess Bride which I have imparled, only a very rare minority ever find themselves

S

directly inve)lved in discovering possible new evidence. You can therefore imagine the very great shock, surprise, and delight I experienced when, during an excavation in 1991 under my direction of an ancient reputed healing well in Minster Abbey found an image which appears to be a triple goddess. The Abbey, it seems, was built on the site of a pagan water-shrine dedicated to a Bride-type triple goddess of motherhood and pregnancy.

(See Asphodel's review in our Yule 1994 issue of Brian Slade's booklets on this excavation. The current article is based on the introduction to his forthcoming book on this subject. Eds.)

Brian Slade

MASKS, ANDROGYNY, AND OTHER MATTERS: a dialogue

As yet, I have had little time to do more than dip into WW. It is fascinating and interesting — though I do feel wildly out of my depth! ! It's all a long way from the types of material I'm used to reading. One thing I have read, carefully, was Ian Henning's beautifully-written piece on masks — all my life I have felt deeply uneasy with masks — they still make me flinch whenever I see them (except in one signal instance — I was lucky enough to have lived in London in the early '70s when the World Theatre season included a week of No plays — I went lo every single one and was bowled over — it has prcwed to be the major theatrical experience of my lile — and in this single instance masks made perfect sense — I still cherish my copy of Waley's No plays of Japan which I persuaded the leading actor, Umewaka Mansaburo, to sign down the first page of the translation of Kiwanami's Sotoba Komachi — he had played the part of the poetess Ono no Komachi) — perhaps Jan's piece, with so much in it to ponder, will cause me at last to confront and explore my distrusts of masks.

With regard to the section on androgyny, Jan, have you ever encountered one of the oddest groups in Christian hagiography — the bearded women saints? I know of three. The first is Wilgefortis (whose name may be a corruption of the phrase Virgo Fortis, Strong Virgin). She grew a beard to avoid marriage (she wanted to become a nun) and in consequence her irate father had her crucified — she is depicted in art as a young bearded woman, crucified and wearing court dress! In Europe she had a strong and popular cult for about three hundred years. Her devotees were mostly women, and in some sense she was seen to empower women. Thomas More records that in his day women offered oats to her "to uncumber them of their husbands"! The others are Paula Barbata (Spanish; hiding from a would-be rapist, she prayed for help and grew a beard; afterwards she lived alone as a hermit) and Galla (a 6th century Roman woman (widowed when young, she wanted to become a nun: doctors told her that her temperament was so ardent that if she didn't remarry she would grow a beard — but she became a nun anyway). Wilgefortis is mythical (her cull evolved around a misunderstanding of a particular iconographie type of crucifix), Paula the Bearded is historical though all details of her life are lost, and Galla is also historical (she is written about by Gregory the Great in Book 4 of his Dialogues, based on accounts of people who knew her). In each case, the beard motif appears to symbolise the taking control of their own lives by these women, in the only way open to them within the constraints of their own culture — i.e.. not simply by *un-sexing" themselves (as, say, nuns) but by 're-sexing' themselves. This is a motif one encounters in another group of hagiographies, such as that of Pelagia (who, I think, had originally been an 'actress'), namely of women who lived out their lives as monks (i.e., men) who were only discovered to be women on their deaths. These legends might provide material for Jan's Androgyny Workshop. I wear a beard, and I once went to a fancy dress party at a London theatre as St. Wilgefortis! — It was an odd experience — like wearing drag and not wearing drag at the same time — it would be interesting to know how this would be experienced by women.

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Incidentally, I know of a single pagan parallel to the Wilgefortis-type legend. Herodotus records that, in the city of Pedasum in Asia Minor, whenever any calamity threatened the city the priestess of Minerva grew a beard; he stales that this happened on three separate occasions.

Tristan Gray Hülse (Tristan is one of the editors of Source, the magazine of Holy Wells. See our exchange listings. A

response by Jan follows)

Many thanks for the nice things you said about my masks article. It actually follows up some ideas I set out in my M A . dissertation. Some day, I hope to pull all these thoughts together and get a publisher interested. In the meantime, I'ld like to reply to a couple of your points.

You are not alone in your distrust of masks. Many people have this reaction. I was lucky in that my granny introduced me to Hallowe'en and to masks in a way that accentuated the wonder and mystery rather than the frightening bits.

In the Western tradition, the Mask comes from (indeed, was originally identical with) Dionysos, who is a very chancy deity. You need only glance at Euripides' Bacchae lo see what he does to mortals who displease him. In non-western traditions, masks are variously identified with deities, with spirits, and with diseases. So, everywhere, the Mask is associated with the power to transform. Transformation can be a very painful process for humans (snakes and insects do it best). Further, the usual sort of transformations associated with Masks are not gradual; they are sudden and sometimes violent. In a positive context, they might be seen as a flash of inspiration, instant healing, rapid growth. The experience might be ecstatic, but it is in no way comfortable.

My advice would be to approach them gradually; don't push beyond what you can take at any one time. Also, have the experience, and then take all the time the time you want to think it through and rationalise it. Apollo and Dionysos are closer than they might at first appear.

Thank you very much, also, for reminding me of the bearded female saints. I know St. Wilgefortis as St. Uncumber, patron of abortions!

I would be very interested to hear further from you how you felt in your Wilgefortis fancy dress. I'm still finding extreme difficulty in trying to inhabit a hero — even before I put a mask anywhere near my face! Strangely, I can make the masks quite easily. I just set to work and do things behind my back (if that makes sense).

I've recently realised the impe>rlance of voice work in releasing other-sex characteristics within myself. I'm still not sure, however, whether I should 'get the voice', then wear the Mask; or bung on the Mask and hope the voice comes. I'm very bad, myself, at just letting go and surrendering to anything — Masks, deities, alcohol, even chloroform. Typically ('if you can't do it, teach it') I do quite well running workshops for other people, during which they let go quite happily. I lewe to see it working for them — but it makes me jealous!

Anyway, I'm still mulling over 'androgyny workshops'. I recently went to see the all-male production of As You Like It. and was knocked flat by the boy who played Rosalind. He simply was the Androgyne; the rest were just female caricatures (though very good caricatures in some cases).

Thank you again for taking the trouble to reply at such length. It's nice to get a response. Sometimes we feel we're sending WW out into a black hole. Do you have the same experience with Source?

Jan Henning

i

! U

10

WHAT NOW OF SWALLOWHEAD?

Recently my son Taliesin and I visited England for the first time in a year and a half (we live in Scotland). We needed to visit Avebury (which I always want to do anyway) to do a couple of things we had been unable to manage the previous time when we were on our "White Horse Journey". One of these was to visit Swallowhead Spring, which Talie hadn't seen since he was a baby. We were kindly driven there for the day from Glastonbury by Simant Bostock. We approached the spring with excitement — the source — the focal point maybe from which the whole Avebury complex grew. I couldn't understand why it looked so different from any time I had ever seen it before. In the past I have spent a great deal of time there — especially in the winter of 1982-83 when I slept beside it in frost and snow. I had been several times at Samhain and Imbolc — to see the flow cease for winter and begin again in spring — but why was the whole area now overgrown with shoulder-high nettles and undergrowth? Something was very wrong. It was all dry. I thought at first it was the dry of winter — but why all the high growth of plants. It took almost a search to find the tiny cave from which the water usually flows — almost hidden, almost completely overgrown — dry — not the dry of winter, but quite dried up. I was horrified and completely shocked — really profoundly — as if something in the very basic essence of me and everything had been rocked and shaken. This is the Source — the sacred fountain of all life, the place of cycle, of death and rebirth — and it has dried up. There is no more water from Swallowhead Spring! It is as if the whole land has changed; the balance of everything has changed. What have they done and what are they doing?

I was then shown that the River Kennet has dried up. It too was overgrown and full of tall plants. What is going on? The sacred river runs dry. I was told that Thames Water is draining so much from the land that the whole water table has altered. Why? For what, suddenly, is all this water needed? There were the slight paths where some had walked to the spring, and gifts and offerings had been made — but it felt as though the place would soon be lost — so overgrown it would be gone for ever. What can be done? Could not at least the nettles and plants be cleared? How. ever, can the water be freed to run again. Other people mast know of this, but I had heard nothing of it. Someone told me that they had seen a TV programme where the ordinary folk of Wiltshire were concerned that their wells and other waters were drying up.

I am deeply distressed. I am deeply disturbed. What can be done? I am so far away, and the Source has dried up.

Jill Smith

MOONS and SUNS to Summer Solstice (London GMT)

March April May June

March 20th March 21st April 30th May 1st June 20th June 21st June 22nd

Full Moon

15th 12.08 14th 20.48 13th 04.03 Sun rises

06.02

04.33 03.43

M

H

New Moon 31st 02.09 29th 17.36 29th 09.27 28th 00.50 Sun sets 18.13

19.21 19.23 20.21

" "

Sun enters Aries 21st 02.14 Taurus 20th 13.21 Gemini 21st 12.34 Cancer 21st 20.34

Equinox 02.14

Solstice 20.34

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K o> I I ft • no i • i H

GO

Elizabeth Wayland Barber. Women's Work: the first 20,000 years. Women, cloth, and society in early times. Norton 1994. £18.50.

We hardly think nowadays about the fabric of our clothing and its manufacture, unless we re being particularly environmentally aware. People who make their own clothes or practise the ancient crafts of spinning, weaving, and even knitting, are cemsidered possibly admirable but possibly dotty. But the manufacture of cloth has been in its time the stuff of revolution. The Industrial Revedution in Britain began with the inventiem of new techniques to speed up the process of not metalworking or mining but spinning cotton and woollen thread. Mahatma Gandhi's campaign for the independence of India took as its symbol the rejection of imported British-woven cloth in favour of a return to home production by hand-spinning. Now here is a book which links the development of spinning and weaving with the changing roles and status of women, from earliest prehistory to the flowering of classical civilisation around the Mediterranean.

This book is not really for weavers who wish to find out the technical details of ancient textiles. That subject has been covered in the author's previous book (Prehistoric Textiles, Princeton 1991), but, on the other hand, complete non-weavers and non-spinners might find some of the explanations of techniques a bit confusing. Meanwhile, archaeologically, the author fills far too many pages for my needs with background information and discussions. This is partly because there is in fact very little archaeological evidence for weaving in the prehistoric period.

The author is on much surer ground when she gets on to linguistic and documentary evidence, and the work of women is brought lo life through their letters and records. They chart the rise and fall of women's status as the textiles, but not the women who made them, leave the confines of the home, becoming items of trade, barter, and gift, passing along the great trade routes of Mesopotamia into Anatolia, while in ancient Egypt they are hoarded like gold for the personal wealth they represent. The women are under pressure to produce me>re and more, the labour is divided, with Egyptian slave women spinning their lives away. Then women lose control over the craft as more efficient techniques are introduced, first some specialist male dyers, then weavers, until only the most monotonous task of spinning is left to the distaff side (this term for women is itself a reference to spinning). From being the wealthy rulers of their own households, women are reduced to actual or virtual slavery. Thus the economic aspects of women's work in this book paint a gloomy picture of endless labour and lowly status.

At the beginning of her book, Barber states "... if the productive labour of women is not to be lost to the society during the childbearing years, the jobs regularly assigned to women must be carefully chosen to be compatible with simultaneous child-watching." But, as any woman with small children will know, children and craftwork are incompatible except where the women are able to gather together to work and share the task of childcare. The more important point here is that women evolve strategies for working together, not just in textiles but in food-gathering and horticulture and other daily tasks, which form the structure of their society. Much more has been made by archaeologists and anthropologists of the co-operative effort required for successful hunting (a male occupation) enabling the formation of a community larger than the family group. But if we dare assume that may early societies were at least matrifocal if not matriarchal, then perhaps greater value should be given lo the contribution of women's work in the evolution of society. Meanwhile, the tradition of women working together in textile crafts œntinues to the present day with quilting circles in the USA, and the waulking of the tweed in the Hebrides.

12

I'm sorry that Barber has restricted her study to those cultures wherein the decline of women's status and the supplanting ai the Goddess with male deities is already well documented. The study of textile working in, for instance, Amerindian or African societies might have prewided her with a different set of attitudes towards, and status of. women textile workers and their craft. It would also have shown the function of textiles in the spiritual and religioas life of less patriarchal and hierarchical societies. In the Andes, for example, women wove and embroidered into their costumes all their myths and symbols, so that they were walking repositories of knowledge throughout the period of Spanish domination; it is only in the last couple of decades of Coca-Colanisation that the meanings of the symbols are being forgotten.

Barber does give fascinating glimpses into the religious aspects of textile production. Going far beyond the basic needs cd' clothing for warmth and modesty, women spent a huge amount of time incorporating messages about status into the material through complex weaving techniques or additions of appliqué or embroidery. This related particularly to childbearing or rites of passage, and included talismans to protect during childbirth. Cloth was also produced for purely ritual purposes, such as the new robe woven for the statue of Athena each year by her priestesses, which took nine months to weave, and was a complex tapestry commemorating the deeds of the Goddess. (I recommend Embroidered Textiles by Sheila Payne for the meanings of symbols found on both prehistoric and modern 'folk" textiles.)

Although I really appreciated the information presented in this book, I found myself not warming to the author. She concludes: "We women do not need to conjure a history for ourselves." This comment, along with other similar ones and references to complaining feminists, and dire warnings to amateurs not to take on linguistic research themselves, suggest to me that she is the sort of Professional Archaeologist who strongly objects to amateurs such as you and me playing around with the facts to see if we can make them fall into a different pattern. But she presents her own facts honestly and comprehensively, so I would still recommend this as a source book. It did make me wish I had more time to get back to weaving.

Cathy Dagg

Christopher Logue. The Husbands. Faber. £6.99. This is the third of Logue's reinterpretations of parts of The Iliad , which he began some ten years ago

with War Music. He has made considerable strides both as a poet and as an interpreter of Homer in that time: and it is in some ways regrettable that he began in the middle of the epic, then returned to the beginning with Kings, and now continues where the latter left off.

In the absence of "wondersulk" Achilles, King Agamemnon ("Lord both of mainland and of island Greece"), deluded by Zeus, has launched total war on Troy. The Husbands opens on the Greek advance to the walls of Troy. As they arrive Prince Hector confronts them alone, offering himself in single combat with one Greek champion; the result to determine the outcome of the war. Wily Odysseus ("... he seemed to be / Well... shy —shuffling his feet , eyes down — the usual things.") subverts this idea, since no-one is confident of prevailing against Hector. Why not, he suggests, pit Menelaos the wronged husband of Helen against Prince Paris, her abductor. These two are The Husbands of the title.

However, a premature happy ending is prevented by the squabbling divinities of Olympos, as is well illustrated by this piece of plotting by Hera and Athene — " 'Peace, home, friendship, stuff like that. ' I 'It must be stopped. ' I At once. ' / 'It will. ' And so, I With faces like NO ENTRY signs they hurry through the clouds. "

The form of the poem moves with the challenge and reaction of the gods, from a huge set-piece ewerview of battle, to a number of vignettes featuring groups of half a dozen or so characters. Logue does this sort of thing exquisitely. The set-pieces, however, are generally not so successfully handled, and it is a pity that this particular work opens with one. as it is likely to put the casual reader off before s/he gets to the good bits. Logue began by 'transliterating" Homer, but now, by his third attempt, the characters are becoming more his own. One striking contrast with Homer is the handling of Menelaos — here treated in depth, and sympathetically. Here is a lewely encapsulation of Menelaos' thoughts during the instant when Paris hurls his spear —

13

Even as he admired the skill with which Paris released his spear 'Dear God' Lord Menelaos prayed 'Stand by me' as he watched the bronze head lift 'Think of the oxen I' then level out 'have killed for You' And float towards his face. And only then (As when, modelling a skirt, if childbride Helen asked: 'Yes?' he would cock his head) he cocked his head, And let the spear cruise by.

Suddenly we are granted a small picture of Spartan home life, before Paris appeared. Perhaps Menelaos even loves his wife. If so, the constant talk of honour and gold rings somewhat hollow. However, even Agamemnon, who talks the most self-deluding hot air. is not without his human side. Here he kneels beside the wounded Menelaos as the surgeons remove an arrow:

7 love you, Menelaos. Do not die. Please do not die, ' (and cut) 'for you are all I have. And if you die the Greeks will sail ' (and cut) Leaving my honour and your wife behind. '

In contrast, Logue's gods are a horrible crew, portrayed as far less noble than the humans. Hera and Athene are particularly badly portrayed, but Aphrodite and Zeus come close behind. Admittedly, Homer's deities are moderately nasty too, but in my opinion Logue has outdone his model. Witness Hera and Athene descending on Zeus to demand the continuation of war:

... and looking round they see (Steadying her white-sepal hat with the russet-silk flutes) Creamy-armed Hera with the Lady Athene (Holding their scallop-edged parasol high) As they wobble their way down the dunes, Shouting:

'... truce ... ' '... and an oath . ' 'For peace ... ' '... dirty peace . ' 'In your name

Hardly edifying; but fun in a tasteless sort of way. Logue's poetry, whether character-speech or description, speaks itself. It cries out to be performed

aloud. It is a challenge to an actor because of the way the unusual grammatical juxtapositions might be handled. It is simply some of the best poetry I've come across. It has taken Logue approximately ten years to produce these three slim volumes of 'Iliad'. Long may he be spared to continue!

Jan Henning

*d>

mn^

mm

14

HOOPS

reaching across the atlantic in london's front page news birth of white buffalo calf and her welcome in the tradition of black elk wise man of the lakota sioux (tribe of my birth place nebrasksa)

three years ago at the michigan women's festival in the lakota portable sweat lodge third round of prayer and steaming stones we disintegrated into a mass of sweat and tears slick mud on slippery unclothed bodies emerging after fourth round walking deeply on earth

in ireland tighe eilis sweat houses are made of stone tradition of thousands of years of ase went with famine yet to resurface

red hoop people have a living tradition white hoop people have archaeological remains

my question to the sweat lodge leader is it appropriate to infuse the second with the first

her answer while hoop people must heal white hoop people

\«i

Hernán Turner

(White Buffalo Woman is one of the sacred beings of the Lakota. The birth recently of a while —not albino —buffalo calf on a farm herd of buffalo is regarded by many as a sign of great positive changes in the world. Eds.)

15

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