ancient herb. Long used as a medicinal herb, it grows tall and lusty in the mead- ows and at roadsides, with hairy leaves and bright blue, star-shaped flowers that are edible. Borage lifts your spirits and ushers in all kinds of merry feelings. Dur- ing the Elizabethan era it was said to “make the mind glad.” It is high in Vita-
min C and contains calcium, potassium, and essential fatty acids. It stimulates the adrenal gland and gives you a lift. It’s subtle, but you’ll feel it.
The ancient Clan Mothers had many a sure-fire way to chase away the blues. One of my favorites is the following:
Personally, after one dose, I’d pretend to be feeling so much better, I’d probably win an Academy Award!
Borage is much better. Gather fresh Borage if you are lucky enough to find it (be sure you have the right plant) or buy some dried Borage from your local health food store. If it is
fresh, spin a handful in a juicer or a blender. From the juicer,
drink about two tablespoons of the green juice mixed with water. If you used a blender, strain the juice and add enough water to make a half glassful. Make a separate cup of Chamo- mile tea to sip after this “Merry-Merry-Meet” Borage potion. If you are using dried Borage, steep two tablespoons in a cup of boiling water along with dried Chamomile (or a good quality herbal tea bag) Let steep for five minutes. Strain and drink. Add honey if you wish. It doesn’t take long to feel your spirits lift.
Immediately after drinking some of your Witch’s Brew, turn on the video player.
Ancient Remedy: For stubborn melancholia, take this remedy each and every morning upon rising, without fail: Pluck 2 or 3 live spiders from their webs and put between 2 slices of fresh bread, thickly spread with butter, and eat. Repeat each morning until the dullness of the mind lifts. Yummy!
Celtic Storyteller: To fit the occasion, dance will tell your
story this day. Rent the Riverdance or Lord of the Dance video by the Celtic step-dance troupes that have drawn record audi- ences to their performances. The sound of their taps on the wooden stage reverberates in your chest; it mimics your heart- beat and quickens your pulse. Those leaving the theaters say they feel “high” from the experience. Watch it, or a portion of it, just before your ceremony.
Better still, be one of the dancers. Turn up the sound, get up and dance about. Hold you arms at your sides and let your feet go crazy. Laugh out loud and clap your hands with gusto when they do. Spin and turn and stomp your bare feet. You are wrapped in an ancient sound, long forgotten yet strangely familiar. How long has it been since you danced? One day is too long. Doesn’t it feel good?
Dance as long as you wish. You’ll know when you are tired and ready to proceed. Turn off the video machine and fire up the stereo. If the Riverdance music moves you, buy the audio version for your car. Surround yourself with the joyous feeling time and again.
Okay, Celtic step dancers aren’t your cup of tea (I’m reminded of the critic who dubbed them the “storm troopers of dance” for their boundless enthusiasm and perceived lack of subtlety, I sup- pose). Well, you can rock it, roll it, funk it, rap it or pour on the salsa––whatever gets you up and dancing. Ballroom? Tango? Cha- cha? Strap on your feathers and do Swan Lake. It’s your ceremony, after all. Just don’t tell the Clan Mothers!
Celtic Bard: Loreena McKennitt’s, Mask in the Mirror or
any of her music.
For your Initiation Ceremony, I can think of none better than the haunting Celtic bardic songs of Loreena McKennitt, an internationally renowned singer, composer, and harpist of extraordinary talent. She’ll lift you up and take you away from
the harsh reality of today, back through time to the mysteries of ancient and gentler days. The first cut is a particularly good one for the ceremony. I wrote two historical novels about the Celts with Loreena’s music as inspiration.
Flagon: Celts enjoyed their drink, and making merry was
almost as important to them as breathing. Your successful ini- tiation deserves an all-out celebration, so hunt down a bottle of Mead—it’s honey wine. It was a favored drink of the Celtic wisewomen, for the bee was considered an emissary of the Goddess. If you can’t find Mead, use a bottle of sweet white wine, or a dry white wine with a scoop of honey in the first glassful. Place the wine in a bucket of ice within easy reach of your chair—you’ll be raising a glass after the ceremony when you kick up your heels in celebration. But remember, an ex- cess of the flagon’s magick turns it to ‘demon-drink’—the downfall of many a brilliant and talented Celt, so savor your wine slowly and don’t overdo it.
If alcohol isn’t for you, chill white grape juice to near freezing, add honey and sip that. After the ceremony you’ll feel naturally high. It’s only the representation of the flagon that’s important.