Paulie Rainbow 

New Beginnings on the Spiral  

The traditional beginning of our sacred year is Imbolc, or Lá Fhéile Bríde/Brigit's Day, but there are so many beginnings throughout the year. Our earth, moon, and season based practices provide us with endless opportunities to start anew.

It feels both very natural and surprisingly right for my circle to be embarking on a new beginning even though we've been in continuous existence since 2008. A part of the rightness of it is how many parts are coming together for Brigit's Day. 

An unexpected driver of our evolution is the pandemic. We had been so happily engaged in the practices of our sacred year, rolling our little wagon out to set up circle on the top of Genesee mountain during beautiful, mild summer sunsets, or across the soccer field of Cook park in the dark of winter. We struck bright fires in our caudron, or used handsome bowls for water offerings. I roused myself by six o'clock on day-after-new moon mornings to walk our adopted meditation path at the Audubon Discovery Center, in all seasons of the year.  

Some people joined us often, some came only once, some brought their children, or talked about their spiritual aspirations before fading from our events. We were ready for practically anything: packing, driving, unpacking, meeting strangers, printing out Irish language worksheets, pointing out native plants, wiping down the big sandwich board before re-writing out our name and logo in wet erase markers. We really had it down. 

And then everything changed. 

When I was sent home from work in March 2020 with the ominous news that someone on the team had COVID it was frightening and weird. I responded to the emergency with efficiency, fear, insomnia, adrenaline, and isolation. 

We went online right away while the world was still trying to sort out the threat. I set up the zoom schedule for just three months. Then another three months. Then another three months. Then for six months, with the idea that I could easily cancel that if we could get back together outdoors. 

Mindful that we were responsible for the safety of the people that gathered with us, I watched news stories of people aggressively rejecting safety measures, tearing off the masks of strangers, screaming at people who tried to hold boundaries. 

I discovered that the person whose health I needed most to protect was me. I was shocked to discover that a condition that had not caused me any trouble in the past now makes me overwhelmingly vulnerable to this virus. As a solo backpacker, as a self defense instructor, as a traveling contractor, I had never felt like I couldn't handle a danger as long as I had the right training, expectations, and equipment. It was sobering to process my own vulnerability. 

Members of the circle, inner and outer, took opportunities to move away from the area, able through the magic of technology to stay a part of what we continued to do. 

Newcomers interested in what we had to offer, decided to look elsewhere when they found we would still not meet in person. 

It took until last fall for me to accept that I could go ahead and plan all of 2022 online. The circle, now a bit far flung, would stay together online and I felt a sense of relief that I didn't have to wonder about meeting with people; for me, in this new world, it's not an option. 

The last two years with zoom have brought us the richness of community I had longed for but never found with our wagon. What we do is hard and it's hard to commit to us if you don't know us. It's hard to know us when we have to take an hour off of work here and there, pack up travel, and pack up again in order for us to meet. 

But my extreme isolation drove me to create weekly meditations and our online presence brought people repeatedly and consistently into our space who could not or would not have driven up I-70 to our mountain or walked out to meet us in a dark park in the snow. Like our our relocated members, they aren't all from Denver, but they are all interested in the practice. It's a new rhythm, and it has been very good. 

Kellene a long time ago reminded me that our "Celtic" designation wasn't as accurate as it once was. We have focussed and evolved. With Irish Polytheism at our core, and a reliance on learning, competence, and capability, we are much more Druid than Celtic. In the sweep of relief that I felt from accepting the limits of the pandemic, and the opportunities that had deepened online, I started exploring the changes that needed to be made, and answers fell into place. 

We could move into a more accurate name and still keep our logo. We could pull together our online material into a website and provide what our members were already using in one place. Out of fourteen years of experience we have a wealth of pictures, blog posts, workshop materials and more. Our new regulars were pushing for more of what we do, and we had it well in hand. 

And so as Lá Fhéile Bríde arrives we are opening our website to the world, moving our identity over from the Denver Celtic...to the Druidry Centered Women's Circle. Our Grove members have self selected and we have the resources in place to provide them with an education on the path. 

We won't be out in the mountains this year. The Gods and spirits will show us how we will meet the changes of a post-pandemic world when that arrives. But for now we have our hands and hearts full and this is truly a new beginning for us. 

We will meet some of you on the paths through the mountains as we make our way. 

Peace of the mountains to you, 

Paulie Rainbow

founder: Druidry Centered Women's Circle
of the Rocky Mountains