by Jonathan Woolley ~
The Lay of the Land
Imagine yourself walking through a woodland. The air is cool and fresh with dew. Your footsteps fall softly on the mossy ground. The birds are singing, the tree tops are filled with light, as all about you, Midsummer’s Day is dawning.
You come to a break in the trees. There before you lies the surrounding country; a land of tall hills, capped with heather, the lower slopes slung with wide downland of thick, lush grass grazed by sheep and cattle. Below that, forests cloak the earth; trackless groves of bright birches, proud oaks, and ancient, wizened yews, alive with the songs of blackbirds. Between these storied woods, lie green fields, criss-crossed by hedges filled with berries – elderberries, blackberries, rosehips – and medicinal plants of all kinds. You can also see the marks of modern life; towns, roads, cities; slicks of concrete, iron and glass over the ground. But as the sun parts the early morning cloud, the whole country seems filled with life, and the more grey, concrete places seem to slink away, into the shadows and mist of the early morning; forgotten in light of a greater majesty.
The place from which you are looking out upon this view, is a glade nestled in the side of a hill. Great beech trees flank you on either side, and there are hazels too, here and there. Further off, into the deeper woods, you can see ancient, earthen rampants, encircling the glade on every side. Towards the western side of the enclosure, a little brook flows merrily down and away towards the valley, forming a deep pool at the edge of the glade. Everything is peaceful.You realise you are not alone. In the shade of the trees are people, standing in a circle around the glade’s edge, holding hands. All of them are wild-looking, but there is a kindness in their faces, and a generosity in their gaze. One of them, over in the east, facing the centre, has her hands gently raised, in the midst of some kind of invocation. As she lowers her hands to her sides, she bows her head in peaceable reverence, and is welcomed back into the circle.
A moment of silence passes. Then, as a spear of fresh sunlight lances into their midst, a young lad with flowers in his hair steps out from the eastern rim of the circle, and raises his right hand. He walks about the glade clockwise, loosely tracing out the circle with his fingers. An invisible curtain of some kind falls about you as he passes by; and the world becomes all the brighter.When the young lad is done, a tall man dressed all in yellow faces out to the Eastern sky. As he lifts his voice and arms to hail the dawn of the morning, a Red Kite appears in the distance, as a wren bursts into song. In the south, there stands a person wreathed in a red cloak with a red face, who reaches out with a torch, shedding light into the forest, whispering of deer and dogs and the passion that lies in hunting and lovemaking. Then the old woman of the west takes her turn, pouring water into the deep pool through which the stream is flowing. A salmon leaps from the dark water, and the hazel trees wave their leaves in the breeze. You look to the north, out towards the purple-hued mountains in the far distance: a child with their face painted like a bear sings a song to the fading stars. At each direction, a gateway is open – four invisible passageways that you had not quite noticed before – but that, in your heart, you know are there.
Druidry is no more or less than this.
Druidry defined, and Druidry described
This is my first contribution to the ICCS blog, and as such, it feels like the right thing to introduce myself, and to explain a little about why I am here – writing as part of the international fellowship of Earth-centered traditions that ICCS represents. I am a 30 year old British man, with a scholarly background in Social Anthropology – my specialist field is how people interact with their natural environment. But my interest in “Nature Religions” is not merely academic; I am a practitioner of Druidry – a Western tradition that holds nature with the highest reverence. Members of Britain’s Druid community, including myself, are active participants in the UK branch of ICCS, and have sent delegates to the great gatherings in Mumbai for many years. But the global family of ICCS may not be altogether familiar with what Druidry is actually like. So – drawing inspiration from Sachin Nandha’s excellent essay “Who is a Hindu?” below I’m going to help readers understand who Druids actually are.
My way of achieving this, as with so many things are in Druidic tradition, will be threefold: it will commend Druidry to the heart of the reader, it will define Druidry in the mind of the reader, and it will situate Druidry relative to the home of the reader. The section above is a call; it gives a brief insight into what Druidry involves, on the emotional and imaginative level. Having given you a taste of the ways of the Druid in such realms, I shall continue to define Druidry in more intellectual way.
Leading Druids have, for many years, struggled to define the essence of Druidry in simple terms. Seeking to honour or reflect the diversity in Druidic practice, our foremost teachers have provided introductions that – like the examples shown below – are rather long, and quite complex. From the websites of the Order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids (OBOD) – the world’s largest Druid order:
What does it mean to be a Druid today? Above all else, Druidry means following a spiritual path rooted in the green Earth. It means participating in a living Western spiritual tradition drawn from many sources, including surviving legacies from Celtic wisdom teachings, but embracing the contributions of many peoples and times. It means learning from archaic traditions, from three centuries of modern Druid scholarship, and from the always changing lessons of the living Earth itself. It means embracing an experiential approach to religious questions, one that abandons rigid belief systems in favour of inner development and individual contact with the realms of nature and spirit.
~ John Michael Greer, Druidry – A Green Way of Wisdom
Rather than being an organised religion, Druidry offers a personal individual life path that can become part of a modern urban existence as easily as a rural life. It connects us instinctively to the life-giving energies of the earth beneath the pavements, and the sky above the highest office or apartment block.
~ Cassandra Eason, The Modern-Day Druidess
Druidry is a spirituality; open to the past, present and future. Ritual is central to our core, and it binds us together with a common thread. Eight times a year to celebrate the seasons and mid seasons, bringing us closer together and closer to the flow of nature and time, with other celebrations as each see fit. These celebrations of life cement in us core values and beliefs in the way of things, and also respect for the land.
~ OBOD Australia, Druidry Today.
To these tracts, it is helpful to add those provided by the leaders of other, different traditions within modern Druidry:
Neopagan Druidry is a group of religions, philosophies and ways of life, rooted in ancient soil yet reaching for the stars. We are part of the larger Neopagan movement, one of the world’s most vital and creative new religious awakenings. Like much of that movement we are polytheistic nature worshippers, working with the best aspects of the Pagan religions of our predecessors within a modern scientific, artistic, ecological and wholistic context using a nondogmatic and pluralistic approach.
~ Ár nDraíocht Féin (ADF), Neopagan Druidism Today: Concepts and Organization.
Druidry is a living spiritual tradition. It is the earliest native spirituality of Britain and Europe of which any written record survives. It developed during the European Iron Age that began almost 3,000 years ago, but grew out of an even earlier stratum of practice and belief… [it] has been renewed or reinvented by successive generations in ways relevant to their own time. Ancient Druids left no written record of their beliefs and practices, though Greek and Roman writers refer to them. Modern Druid groups draw on different aspects of the past and rework them in different ways, from friendly societies founded in the 18th century to wild eco-warriors.
~ The British Druid Order (BDO), What is Druidry?
To some extent that depends on the Druid you ask; there have been very few attempts to set up a Druid orthodoxy, and none of them got far. Druids have always been an independent-minded (not to say bloody-minded) lot! Broadly speaking, though, the Druidry of the Druid Revival is nature spirituality. Druidry sees divinity expressed primarily in the world of nature, and pursues nature awareness and a life in harmony with nature’s cycles. A set of seasonal celebrations of nature’s changes during the year play an important role in nearly all traditional Druid Orders. Methods of meditation and spiritual development also have central places in traditional Druidry. The Druid Revival, like most spiritual traditions, has also developed a variety of auxiliary arts that express its values in practice; these include poetry and music, methods of natural healing, and a variety of esoteric studies including divination, magic, sacred geometry, and the quest to comprehend the meaning and powers of ancient sites such as Stonehenge and Glastonbury.
~ The Ancient Order of Druids in Americ (AODA), What is the Druid Revival’s Druidry all about?
The problem with all these definitions is they are not, in fact, definitions at all. They are all excellent descriptions of Druidry, but that is not the same thing. The work of description is quite distinct from that of definition; the former aims for completeness, while the latter aims for sufficiency. A good description is complete, because it takes into account everything about its chosen subject; a description of cutlery, for example, will make reference to all the different kinds of cutlery found in the world, covering all their various attributes – their size, use, origin, cultural significance, and so on. As such, a good description – like the examples above – is often somewhat lengthy. OBOD describes the sociology of Druidry, the AODA the beliefs of individual Druids, The BDO describes its history and the ADF its poetic influence on the soul.
A good definition, however, aims to be sufficient. A definition is sufficient when it provides the key traits that mark out its subject as a distinct entity, relative to other, similar things. A definition of cutlery, therefore, would be “a type of kitchen implement, typically used to assist in the consumption of food.” Whereas description serves to tell you everything you should know about a subject, definition merely helps you understand what makes that something a subject in its own right. A description aims to cover the whole of a thing; while a definition cuts right to its heart – its essence.
It may be possible to describe Druidry as a religion, a spirituality, a magical practice, a mystery tradition, but the fact that it can be all of these things to different people suggests it is, in fact, not defined by any one of them. Neither does it help us to define Druidry as “nature spirituality”, as lots of other traditions could claim this description for themselves too. As a definition, this is just too broad. Even if we make recourse to generalities and poetry, as do Ár nDraíocht Féin and the Reformed Druids of America, this raises yet more questions – Which philosophies, lifestyles, and religious forms does it encompass? What soil? Which birds? Which stars? Vagueness might be inclusive and inspiring, but it is not a good trait for a definition to possess.
So how might we better define Druidry? My proposed definition is this:
Druidry is the culture of Albion and Éire.
Like all good definitions, this is short, and straightforward. It does not attempt to meticulously preserve in textual form all that Druids were, are, and will be, but it nevertheless captures something of the essence of who Druids are. It is broad enough to include Druidic religion, ethics, art, spirit and practice, magic and mystery, but specific enough to distinguish Druidry from other, related phenomena – including other Earth-based cultures. But it also raises questions: of what practices and ideas does this culture consist? And what, or where, are Albion and Éire?
Druidry as a Culture in Practice
Long ago, on the fringes of recorded history in Northern Europe, we find the first mention of Druids. The Druids were – for the peoples of Iron Age Gaul (modern day France, Belgium and the Netherlands), Britain, Man, and Ireland – the educated, professional class. Though the Druids made no writings of their own, according to the histories written by the members of neighbouring, more literate cultures, the Druids were priests, judges, natural philosophers, diplomats, and magicians. The word “Druid” comes from the languages these people spoke – its original meaning, we are told, was “Oak Seer” or “Enduring Wisdom”. If this meaning held true in those days, the ancient Druids can be understood as those who perceived the wisdom that was held by, and was long-lived as, the ancient oak trees that grew in their country. These Oak Seers officiated at sacrifices, advised the ruling elite, kept the peace, and explored the mysteries of the cosmos. Later texts – written by Christian monks in Ireland – portray the Druids as magicians opposed to the coming of the new religion. But even these sources are not robust, as historian Ronald Hutton states “we can know virtually nothing of certainty about the ancient Druids, so that—although they certainly existed—they function more or less as legendary figures.” This legend has inspired cultural movements in many later societies; from the Celtic nations of Wales, Brittany, Ireland, Scotland and Man, to the various orders that compose contemporary Druidry.
But the ancient Druids are not the only legendary figures that inspire Druidry today. In medieval times, we also find mention of Bards (in Wales) and filidh (in Ireland) – historian poets who sang of the deeds of the great and the good (or the ludicrous and infamous) and kept the memories of the past alive in a time when books were rare, if they could be found at all. These were the myth-makers, whose words could crown kings and lay reputations waste. Welsh literature also mentions mysterious figures called Ovates(1), who knew hidden medicine, alchemical mysteries, and arcane lore. All these roles are brought together in modern Druidry; which combines, in varying proportions; the wisdom of the Druid, the learning of the Ovate, and the inspiration of the Bard.
What is striking about the Bard, the Ovate, and the Druid is the sheer range of skills they collectively represent. Between them, they – or their equivalents – would have acted as custodians for every conceivable aspect of the culture of which they were part. Medicine, art, natural science, philosophy, magic, music, celebrancy, diplomacy, political counsel, teaching, divination, law, and poetry; all would have been attended to in Iron Age and Medieval Celtic societies by a class of specialists, just as they are today. Indeed, in contemporary Wales, the National Eisteddfodd – an annual gathering that celebrates Welsh cultural achievements – honours those who have contributed to Welsh culture in a meaningful way by awarding them the title of Bard, Ovate, or Druid. With this in mind, it becomes easy to appreciate the extent to which Druidry is a cultural – rather than merely religious, artistic, or intellectual – exercise. However, whereas the National Eistedfodd places Druidic lore as part of the broad and noble tradition of Welsh civilisation, within Druidry, that lore is the focus, the soul, the song and the sinew of our living community. In short, while the culture of Wales is not defined by the legend of the Druids, Druidry must be.
Albion – The Visible World of the Druids; Eire – the Land of Plenty
Druidic culture finds its home in an ancient spiritual landscape referred to using an ancient name – Albion. The Celtic linguist Xavier Delamarre explains that “Albion” – an ancient word for the north of the island of Britain, still found in Scots Gaelic in the form of Alba – originally meant “the visible world”, as opposed to the invisible realm of the underworld. The Ancient Britons who lived in Ancient Albion and practiced Druidry, they are known to have called themselves the Priteni, or the “People of the Forms”(2). When considered together, these two names give a tantalising glimpse of the philosophy of the Ancient Druids – one where the primary distinction was between the visible and invisible. The visible world was populated by humans – people who had a set and specific form. The invisible underworld was inhabited by nebulous beings – the dead, the unborn, the cthonic gods – who were “formless”. Invisible, here, does not mean – as it does in our scientific understanding – something that does not reflect light; but rather something that is difficult to perceive or pin down in the more general sense; in short, something that is subtle, numinous or uncanny. This pairing of the human, familiar, obvious realm with the subtle, unfamiliar, magical Otherworld, echoes the mercurial and shape-shifting nature of many fairy beings in later Celtic folklore.
Druids today still treat with these mysterious forces – the powers of Nature; of land, sea, and sky. Precisely what these powers are – gods, spirits, fairies, psychological projections or elementals – is a matter of some debate. But the fact of their existence, and their fundamentally sacred character is beyond doubt within Druidic teaching. It might seem strange to describe something as obvious to the casual observer, and vital to our existence as the sun, the corn, or a spring of fresh water as “invisible” or “mysterious”. But this is precisely how they are treated today, even by non-Druids. While our ancestors found these things unpredictable and strange – in part – because of a lack of scientific understanding, today these things remain otherworldly. Modernity constantly places the rest of Nature – the land where we grow our crops, the sea that fuels our weather, the ancestors who sired us, and the sky where the stars hang – at a remove from the majority of living human beings. Crops are packaged in plastic, and sold in supermarkets ready to eat, alienated from their roots in the land. We spend so much of our time inside, the weather is something we can choose to enjoy or avoid – the sea becomes little more than a distant dumping ground for our waste. Our ancestors are mere curios to be documented from a distance or viewed from behind glass, but never embraced as divine family(2). The stars are blotted out by the light of a thousand street lamps, or the muggy haze of industrial particles. Druidry calls upon us to remember these forgotten people; our relations who gave us birth, and still sustain us, despite our hunger and greed. Druids see that we are born(e) from them and by them; we live amongst them all our days; and we reincarnate as them when we die. What distinction there is, is one of human form and formlessness – but it is not one of substance.
It should not be assumed, however, that the invisible world is sacred, and the visible profane. Both represent halves of a sacred whole; a complementary pairing, each utterly dependent upon the other. When one dies in the visible world, one is born into the invisible domain; only to reborn into the visible again once your time in the hidden realm, the Otherworld – is done. Both are inhabited by gods and men; both are enlivened with spirit. The difference between the human and the subtle world assumed in a Druidic understanding is not an attempt to divorce the sacred from the ordinary – rather, in acknowledging the differences between them, Druidry makes a close and harmonious relationship between the two possible. If difference is not appreciated, valued, and treasured, then one party will always be forgotten. As Anthropologist Marilyn Strathern has argued, differences do not preclude relationships – rather they make them possible; if we were all one, there could be no relationships. This problem of oneness arises – as it has in the modern day – when the two worlds become alienated, estranged from one another, and one is able to behave as if the other doesn’t exist. Druidry today attempts to heal this divide, by bringing human people home to a landscape where they can live in harmony with the Otherworld – and that landscape is Albion.
Éire is the Irish name for the island of Ireland; another great sourceland of Druidry today. This name in Irish comes from a goddess of sovereignty – Eriu – who made the ancient kings of the Irish promise to name the land after her, when the Irish first arrived in that country. The fact that her wishes were honoured (and still are to this day) reflects a truth held to be self-evident within modern Druidry; that the land must be shown the utmost respect. Indeed, the meaning of her name – Eriu means “abundance” – teaches that this respect is intimately bound up with the continuing fertility of the land itself. The fact that our present way of life takes from the Earth without even a shred of reverence, and that this has turned the devastation of our planet into a reality, demonstrates the great wisdom of those ancient kings.
Aboriginal Australian legal scholar Christine Black sets out a vivid description of Aboriginal Australian jurisprudence, wherein “the Land is the Source of the Law”. Drawing on the perspective of Senior Law Man Neidjie, Black argues for the profound importance of feeling what the land needs, and responding to this as part of ones’ sacred rights and responsibilities to the place where one is from. It is important to stress that contemporary Druids are not “indigenous” in any political sense – nor can contemporary Druidry boast the sort of longstanding, continuous traditions of philosophical enquiry and jurisprudence that is possessed by the Senior Law People and Scholars of Indigenous Australia, Africa, Asia, and the Americas. But Druidry is very much in sympathy with the approach outlined by Black and Neidjie; as we seek to continuously construct a way of living that follows the instructions of the land itself; an autochthonous body of art, philosophy, and law, formed and figured in the woods, seas and hills from which the first Druids, Bards, and Ovates came, and knitting together what is known of their words and deeds.
In this way, Druidry can fairly claim to be “wisdom of the oak” – using Black’s terminology, an articulation of the law of the lands of Albion and Éire, where oaks grow. And so, though “Albion” may refer to the duet of the visible and invisible, this relationship is grounded in a very specific sacred landscape. Druidic wisdom is found in the shadow of sarsen dolmens, under the Great Bear and in the songs of wrens – all of which can only be found in a certain parts of the world in which we live. Although Druids live all around the world today, those who do not live within the place of the tradition’s birth nonetheless are able to connect with Druidry’s “sourcelands”.
However you encounter it – by living where the oaks grow, or through attuning to its myths and energies from afar – Albion and Éire as ideas represent an ideal, respectful balance. They articulates the profound link Druidry has to a very particular landscape – that of the Atlantic corner of North Western Europe – without reference to the divisions and ideology of modern nationalism. Although many Druids hail from the Celtic nations, or have an ancestral connection to them, there are many more who do not. Celtic identity or ancestry can be a powerful motive for seeking out Albion and Éire, but there are many others. Anyone who feels the power of these lands and their law can become a Druid, regardless of place of birth, citizenship or ethnic origin. Druidry is a matter of land and fellowship, not blood and patriotism.
Druidic Culture as a Way of Life
Modern Druidry’s culture turns on the axis of the Wheel of the Year; a cycle of eight festivals, equally spaced throughout the seasons of Albion and Éire, marking the passage of time through the rhythms of the natural world. Four of the festivals – Alban Arthan, Alban Eiler, Alban Hefin, and Alban Elfed – are Welsh-named solar festivals; falling on the solstices (Winter, Summer) and equinoxes (Spring, Autumn) that quarter Albion’s sacred calendar and stand in the midst of each season. The other four – the “cross-quarter days” of Imbolc, Beltane, Lughnasadh, and Samhain – are Irish fire festivals, that purify our movement from one season into the next. Taken together, each of the eight festivals honours a specific phase of existence; from creation, through growth, maturation, reproduction, and completion, into harvest, decline, and – eventually – death and rebirth. Druids gather together at each of these festivals, to celebrate and contemplate the mysteries of each time of year. This wheel is shared with the other great companions of the Druids – the witches.
While the wheel is wrought from the seasons themselves, what turns that wheel is ceremony. The foundational ritual practice is elegantly simple – walking. Druids find a deep and abiding sense of meaning in the landscape about them, and by walking through it regularly, with an awareness of its subtle moods and shifts over time, they nurture this connection. If you walk in nature to encounter beauty, purpose, to “clear your head” – then you have felt the first stirrings of what the Druidic way of being is all about. All formal rituals Druids enact are mere developments, refinements, or expressions of this experience; the experience of being a part of Druidry’s sourcelands. Rites of passage – births, comings of age, marriages, and funerals – are presided over by Druidic celebrants; members of the community trained in the subtle craft of guiding people through the stages of life, as the wheel turns. Like other Celtic cultures, including those of the Welsh, Cornish, and Bretons – Druids celebrate creativity within the community at eisteddfodau; taking the form of poetry, song, music, and story, all shared around a campfire. Ritual journeys – in which Druids travel through a sacred narrative, meeting gods, spirits, and other atavistic powers along the way – are also common. Divination – through the use of the ogham, the weather, the cards of the Tarot, or the Animal and Plant oracles – is a central aspect of many Druids’ lives. There are many, many other examples of how Druids create their culture: a child who builds fairy houses out of leaves and twigs in a playground; a rebellious teen who dreams of gods and heroes; a wise one who heals with herbs; an elder who carves wands and necklaces with Druidic symbols. Despite their diversity, these acts – formal or informal – all serve a common purpose; to re-enchant the Land (or rather, our understanding of it), cultivating an embodied journey through Albion’s green tracks and Éire’s causeways.
This re-enchantment of the landscape is not just a personal matter; it has profound moral and social consequences. As anthropologist Jane Schneider has argued, the literate elites of Europe – be they Christian or secular – have been only too eager to disenchant the landscape; for once this is done, the land becomes merely a mass of resources to be extracted, processed, sold, and consumed. Harkening back to a time in Europe’s history when this process of disenchantment had barely begun, Druidry teaches how to relate to the landscape again – animals, plants, the elements, the dead, and other unseen forces, all deserve our respect and care, because they are part our wider community. We in turn, transform the human world to support that relationship. We must treat all the beings who live around us justly, fostering a state of Peace between the visible and invisible worlds in Albion.
With this moral code in mind, it is perhaps unsurprising that Druids should fight anything that threatens the people and places dear to them – whether from the chain-like growth of roads, the privatisation of national forests, the manifold poisons of pollution, or the unremitting violence of fracking rigs. As activists, as campaigners, as healers, as teachers – Druids stand together.
The Oak Change – From the priests to the people
Oliver Rackham, one of the foremost experts on the British countryside, described a strange process he called “the oak change”. Once upon a time, oaks would preferentially grow within existing oak groves – new seedlings rooting and flourishing under the spreading boughs of previous generations. However, in the early 20th century, this pattern reversed – only seedlings growing outside of established woodlands would grow and flourish. Rackham explains that this was because of Powdery Mildew – a fungal infection that makes oak seedlings less shade tolerant. Once this disease became commonplace, only those intrepid acorns planted far away from other trees would thrive.
Powdery Mildew is likely an import – brought to Europe from some other part of the world. As such, it is a symptom of a wider trans-national network of trade and colonisation, that dislocates people, plants, animals, resources, and ideas, and circulates them widely to profit a wealthy few. The global condition of modernity caused our oaks to radically change their behaviour. As befitting those who hold the wisdom of these ancient trees, the same has happened to Druids. There are now Druids on many continents, participating in contemporary movements to protect the planet and her many children; envisioning new expressions of old ways, still drawing inspiration and power from the sacred places that birthed their tradition.
In the past, the wisdom of the oaks was something that only a few could possess – a matter for the educated elite of Iron Age society, who gathered together in groves and guarded their knowledge carefully. But just as the oaks themselves have changed, breaking out of their old forests in response to modern life, seeding in bright fields and sunny hedgerows instead; so the wisdom of which they are custodians has been transformed, from an ancient esoteric philosophy into an inclusive, earth-centered way of life.
(1) “Ovate” is actually a Welsh mangling of the name of the Latin poet “Ovid” – that has latterly been applied to the medical caste of Celtic societies, which would undoubtedly have existed, given the existence of such personalities as Dian Cecht is anything to go by.(2) They can, of course, be both.
Adelman, J. & Ellison, S. (2007) Neopagan Druidism Today: Concepts and Organization. Available at https://www.adf.org/about/basics/npd-today.html.
Black, C. F. (2010) The Land is the Source of the Law: A Dialogic Encounter with Indigenous Jurisprudence. UK: Routledge.
Delamarre, X. (2003) Dictionnaire de la langue gauloise (2nd Ed.) Errance.
Eason, C. (2003) The Modern Day-Druidess: A Practical Guide to Nature Spirituality. Piakus.
Hutton, R. (2007). The Druids. London: Hambledon Continuum.
Rackham, O. (2003). Ancient Woodland. Castlepoint Press.
Greer, J. M. (2006) Druidry – A Green Way of Wisdom. Weiser.
Restall Orr, E. (2000) Druid Priestess. Thorsons/Harper Collins.
Worthington, C. (1999) The Beginner’s Guide to Druidry. Hodder and Stoughton.
Schneider, J. (1990) Spirits and the Spirit of Capitalism in Religious Orthodoxy and Popular Faith in European Society.ed. E. Badone. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Strathern, M. (1998) “Social relations and the idea of externality.” In Cognition and material culture: The archaeology of symbolic storage, edited by Colin Renfrew and Chris Scarre, pg. 135–47. Cambridge: McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research.
The British Druid Order (BDO), What is Druidry? http://www.druidry.co.uk/what-is-druidry/
The American Order of Druids (AODA), What is the Druid Revival’s Druidry all about? http://aoda.org/faq.html#10
The Reformed Druids of North America (RDNA), What is Reformed Druidism? http://apps.carleton.edu/student/orgs/druids/questions/
Article originally posted on the ICCS website
Stones, Wells and Oak Wisdom: Who is a Druid?
by Jonathan Woolley ~ The Lay of the Land Imagine yourself walking through a woodland. The air is cool and fresh with dew. Your footsteps fall softly on the mossy ground. The birds are singing, the tree tops are filled with light, as all about you, Midsummer’s Day is dawning. You come to a break…
by Jonathan Woolley ~