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(New name: formerly, Ancient Trails) The Wild Hunt Why the switch? I wanted a more dynamic title, one that reflects the spiritual and physical struggle that is our life. There's a bit about the Wild Hunt here, sent out as the Samhain e-mail for the Great Wheel in 2004.
The Wild Hunt has a leader on horseback, sometimes headless
(think Legend of Sleepy Hollow and you'll get a Wild Hunt tale in an American
idiom.). The horse sometimes has fiery eyes and nostrils. Going
out ahead of the horse and rider are the wild hounds, the dark Hounds of
Heaven, or, the Cwm Annwn, the Welsh Hounds of the Otherworld.
The Wild Hunt announces its imminent arrival with the
barking of the hounds and the sound of marching feet, usually specters of the
recently dead, or, in a turn I found very interesting, the specters of those
who died before their time by hanging, stabbing, say, or a soldier's death, or a
duel, or, I suppose, a traffic accident. They fly with the
Wild Hunt until their allotted time has run its course, then God or the Other
plucks them out of the Hunt and sends them off to their fate.
There are other legends which suggest the Wild Hunt comes
for each person as they die, sweeping up their soul as it leaves the body, and
carrying it from its body's final resting place to its next home.
Though the Wild Hunt has associations with many seasons (as
you can tell by reading some of the webpages.), I feel its connection to
Samhain is strong. With the thin veil between the worlds most evident on
this last of the harvest holydays, the coming of the Wild Hunt, perhaps right
across the barrier between the world of Faery and this mortal world, makes a
certain mythopoetic sense.
As the legion of the recently dead, or, perhaps, of
those dead with business still unfinished in this world, the Wild Hunt would
find the traditional rituals of this time of year soothing.
Food set out. Favorite music and scents and liquors in the home. Dios
de los muertos altars all round. Little ones with fanciful
costumes. Candles lit on porches. Gay jack-o-lanterns carved and
glowing.
If you hear the sound of the Wild Hunt, or the Wild Horde,
some believe, you hear the sound of your approaching death. Now, if we
pay attention, we can always hear the hounds baying in the distance for, as
Jesus said, ye know not the day nor the hour. The Wild Hunt, if it
comes and passes us by, bears a striking similarity to the Angel of Death in
the Exodus story. So, with the Jewish community, we can take each day
the hounds run on ahead without us as a day of liberation and freedom, a gift
given to us, and therefore not to be squandered, but cherished.
Why?
Because it is not a question of if the Wild Hunt will come
for you, taking you to the World of Faery, the Otherworld, or Heaven as you
like, but when.
Both of these web pages recount various legends, folktales, and folk
beliefs about the Wild Hunt.
Herne, mentioned in the poem, is the horned god of the
Celts, known also (and more commonly) as Cernunnos. The image of
Cernunnos appears on the Gundestrup Cauldron where the horned god, an antlered
man seated in a cross-legged pose, holds a ram-headed snake, and wear two
torcs. The god's name is found only once in the archaeological record,
on a stone frieze of an elderly man with antlers and torcs.
Cernunnos is Lord of the Animals, and, in Celtic lore, is
the master of the Wild Hunt. He has associations with prosperity and
fertility. An important characteristic of Celtic myth and legend is
zoomorphism, the transmogrification of humans to animals and animals to
humans. Since zoomorphism is also linked to shamanism, it strengthens
the connection between the central European origins of the Celts and the
plains tribes of the Russian steppes, where shamanism first sprang up.
Cernunnos, banned by the Roman Catholic church, also often
has hooves. The hooves and antlers of Cernunnos became conflated with
the satyr quality of Pan, the Greek nature god, and also condemned by the
Church.
The result? The Devil.
Another important characteristic of Celtic faith is the
intimate link between nature and human consciousness. Zoomorphism is, in
this regard, simply an example thereof. The Celts connected to nature in
a way now lost to ordinary understanding, perhaps in a way understood only in
a mystical frame, yet it was not the exceptional person, the occasional
mystic, who had this seamless link to nature; it was every member of the
tribe.
Consider a world where we all enjoyed conversation with the
animals, union with the plants of garden and forest, and had the good
luck to dance with the winds and the snow. There would, I imagine, be no
need for Green awareness.
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