Tag: Polytheistic Monasticism

Notes on Being a Bad Nun

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I.
I didn’t make a very good nun. The Dark Magician mocked me when I told him I was going to be a holy woman. I think he knew I did it to escape my name. 

“Loo-nar,” they called me at school. Somehow they knew I’d be a loner. Loony. Pulled and pushed, against my will, by the tides of the moon.

How I wanted to get rid of that name. How I wanted to get rid of my memories: of how it was spoken with mockery, of how it was used by my parents and teachers to order me about as if they were magicians summoning and ordering a spirit, of how lovers I couldn’t satisfy spoke it.

I think I preferred ‘pig’ even in the mouths of the bullies and those who spoke it more jokingly because I snaffled up the leftovers using a hatred of food waste as an excuse because I couldn’t control my hunger when I was drunk.

And ‘Smithers’ was far too English for someone who worshipped a Welsh God.

To escape her lowliness, upon the calling of the Gods, Lorna Smithers tried to make a name for herself; standing on a stage in the centre of the Flag Market in Preston, in cafés, in pubs; posting on social media. 

It was all too much – she vanished into the land and reappeared as Sister Patience.

II.
Sister Patience sprung up like a mushroom from an invisible mycelial network. Nuns of Annwn and Fruits of Annwn are similar things. They appear with birch trees – a pioneer species. Neither lasts for long. But they both prepare the way for future dreams, strange and hallucinatory, then they disappear.

III.
What can I say of monastic life? I might have learnt to play the Heartbeat of Annwn but did I live truly live in alignment with it? Was I truly alive? 

Or did I just obsess about how well I did with giving up things?

I battled with food, alcohol, exercise, emails, blogging, books, all my addictions…

And some of them I conquered and some of those things I could not give up. 

Exercise – the gym. The satisfaction of shifting more than my body weight on the leg press, getting one more rep in on my barbell bench press without dropping the bar on myself, removing another 2.3kg towards an unassisted pull-up. 

Food – Gods damnit, I love food. I managed to eliminate all added sugar. I weaned down to oats, fish, meat, cheese, eggs, multicoloured fruit and veg – to what my body, my gut, spoke it truly needed. But could I fast for a day or even or a half day? No.

I came to realise that, as an active person, fasting is not my ascesis. I was not destined, like the saints, the boddhisatvas, the gurus, to be like a bee or a hummingbird, living lightly, drifting that way into inebriation.

I had too much guilt to carry. Like my running shoes. Deceivingly light. My final confession. Brooks Ghosts, women’s size 7.5, every 500 miles. Now I’m not running so much, I’ve cut down, but I still get my steps in on the treadmill, the elliptical, the stairstepper…

“Ghosts on your feet, my beloved,” the King of Annwn speaks with irony, hinting at the petroleum-based materials taken from the Underworld.

Yet, the original meaning of ascesis related to athleticism. Maybe I can be redeemed?

IV.
And what of those other athleticisms of monks and nuns for which they are revered? Of prayer and meditation? In my experiments, did I fail or succeed?

Unfortunately, there are few words to describe the silence that one enters into in deep prayer or deep meditation, but there were times I got there.

Instead, I might tell you of a rather guilty and hubristic dream in which Sister Patience and Saint Theresa of Ávila were both the recipients of offerings beside a pool in a woodland grove. Afterwards, they ran ecstatically, barefoot, in their habits, into the woodland, and I never saw them again. 

Once, in the silences between chanting Om, I gained a sense of Absolute Consciousness. Was this Brahman, Bhairava, Shiva? Was Gwyn the equivalent in our Brythonic tradition? I have no answers. 

The Christian tradition of kenosis, ‘self-emptying’, in order to be filled with the divine, relates to the shamanic concept of the ‘hollow bone’, to being an empty cauldron or vessel in the Brythonic tradition and still intrigues me. 

I gained access to the witness part of oneself, which features in Eastern and Western traditions and is summarised in the Camoldolese rule: ‘Sit in your cell as in paradise. Put the whole world behind you and forget it. Watch your thoughts like a good fisherman watching for fish.’ In my personal mythos, this relates to Gwyn’s father, Nodens / Nudd ‘the Fisher King,’ to the patient Heron.

V.
I wasn’t a very good nun. I had no prospects of being a saint. Yet the insights I gained will be carried with me into being a good devotee of Vindos / Gwyn. Into being a good shamanic practitioner. I’m hoping that, in the future, the impulse to be holy will be tempered by the impulse to be human, and this will help me to serve my Gods and others better through my writing and shamanic work.

Who Am I After Sister Patience?

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Letting go of my identity as Sister Patience has been somewhat of a relief. In many ways I felt like I was living a double life. I had to keep my birth name, Lorna Smithers, for financial purposes and appointments such as the doctor and dentist. Although my mum accepted my name change, my dad refused to (although he has recently started referring to me as ‘her’ rather than ‘Lorna’ to escape my admonishments). Other family members ignored my request. Whilst I felt comfortable telling my friends and personal trainer at the gym, I never found the right moment to tell my doctor, dentist, physio, hairdresser or former colleagues at the supermarket where I worked and still shop. It was a nightmare managing two email addresses (when you’re autistic and every single message has to be replied to, removed from the inbox and filed correctly before you can relax, one is more than enough!).

I also felt like I was trying to live up to an ideal I couldn’t match. No amount of positive affirmations or metta ‘loving kindness’ or tonglen ‘giving and receiving’ practice made me as patient and kind as I wanted to be. I’d think I was improving then have another blow up with my dad and be doubly angry with myself because it demonstrated he was right – that I’m not Sister Patience.

Yet without Sister Patience who am I? Settling back into the skin of Lorna Smithers has felt rawer and truer but hasn’t been a wholly comfortable experience. I’ve once again had to confront my past – something that from the perspective of modern society looks like a series of failures (failed philosopher, failed poet, failed author, failed nun…) but from an alternative one might look an authentic spiritual journey well lived. 

And, of course, the definition of ‘failure’ is subjective. I might have failed to be an author in terms of making a living from it but I’ve still had books and articles published and received small payments along the way whether they are from book sales, Patreon support, or free subscriptions to magazines. So I can still claim to be an author. I’m also succeeding with my shamanic practitioner training and shamanic guidance and healing sessions along with running circles so can also claim to be a shamanic guide.

In my last couple of posts I’ve mentioned that I recently received the gnosis that I’m more of a hermit than a nun. I feel that’s true in my soul but it doesn’t match my outer reality yet – I still live with my parents and do not make enough money to cover my food and board let alone to live self-sufficiently. One of my readers, Caer, recently signposted me to a book called Consider the Ravens and therein it noted that any true hermit wouldn’t advertise themselves as such. There’s a dichotomy between being an author and shamanic guide who has to market themselves online and a hermit. There’s also a restless feeling I have unfinished business in the world. So, whilst hermithood is an inner reality and dream for the future, it isn’t something I can identify with wholly at present.

Author, shamanic guide, would-be-hermit, are the roles I now identify with, along with my devotion to my patron God, Gwyn ap Nudd, which has been ongoing throughout these upheavals (thinking about it, damn Him, He’s the one who has caused all of them!).

Being Sister Patience has made me a little stronger, a little kinder, a little more patient, likely in preparation for further challenges and tumult along the way…

The Truth is I’m a Hermit Nun

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I’ve recently spent a week in retreat and a huge insight came up as I was contemplating why I’m struggling to feel I’m of value and to stand in my truth as a nun, not only in polytheist and shamanic groups but in my local community. 

I realised this is firstly because I’m not a cloistered nun and secondly that, although I’ve tried on the role of a lay nun, this doesn’t truly fit either. I’m not naturally a community person. I’m not naturally an active. I’m not smily and sociable. This is not only because I’m autistic and struggle with social anxiety but because my soul has a deep need for solitude and silence – it hurts when that state of being is broken by the social demands for polite conversation and small talk.

One sign that I was forcing myself to do the wrong thing by trying to be a community person was the problems I experienced when I tried running in-person shamanic circles (something I felt I should do but was not told to by my Gods). I had to cancel the first one at Galloways, a lovely venue that was formerly a home for the blind, due to the extremely cold weather in January. After this, the numbers were good for one circle, then dwindled, meaning we couldn’t afford the room. When I tried co-organising another at the Education Hut in Greencroft Valley, where I’ve been conservation volunteering for thirteen years, it was very stressful due to being weather-dependent as based in a woodland and was called off due to a storm. 

Ok, I admitted to the Gods, I’m not meant to be running in-person circles. If I don’t listen next time, you’ll send something worse than cold and ice and a minor storm. In retrospect, I could see they were safeguarding me from the stress of organising people to do things (my main trigger for burnout) along with the discomforts of making small talk at the beginning and end and co-ordinating the group drumming (which really hurt my head!). I realised I’d be able to mask for a certain amount of time, but long term, the attendees would perceive how uncomfortable I am in community.

As I sat with these thoughts, I received the gnosis ‘the truth is I’m a hermit’. It’s risen from within before and has been repeated by the people who really know me. I’ve shrugged it off again and again as I haven’t felt hermit-like enough. I run an online monastery. I’m training to be a shamanic practitioner. I go to the gym. 

When I looked into this, I found there were no rules that prevented a hermit from going to the gym. Most hermits are expected to support themselves by work that fits with leading a prayerful solitary life, and being a shamanic practitioner does. And it is possible for a hermit to found and run a monastery that accommodates an eremitic lifestyle as exemplified by St Romauld and the Camaldolese order.

So, I realised, I can be a hermit nun. This thought made me feel incredibly happy and at peace with myself. It made me think of all the times I’ve drawn the Hooded Man in the Wildwood Tarot, ‘my old friend’, and felt the deepest of kinships. 

Finally, I can stand in my truth when people ask me what I do without feeling I need to put on pretences to be a smily sociable lay nun but can explain I am a hermit nun and that silence and solitude are intrinsic to my role.

For the first time in my life, my nature and vocation are at one.

Self portrait as a hermit nun and shamanic guide

I Am Home

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‘I have finally arrived. I am home.’ 

This insight came to me after I had been considering taking my monastic vows for the third time this year whilst looking ahead to lifelong vows next year. If I am to pledge to being a nun of Annwn for life what will this life look like?

When I founded the Monastery of Annwn at first I dreamt it might become a physical reality. I drew up an ambitious plan with a central temple, underground shrines, healing huts, an arts centre, circles of huts for the monastic devotees, a garden, compost loos, a burial ground…*. Shortly afterwards I realised living in, let alone running, such a large and busy place would be more Uffern ar y Ddaer ‘Hell on Earth’ than abiding close to Annwn for me.

Still, as I continued to follow as monastic-a-path as I could while living with my parents in suburban Penwortham, I spent a lot of time dreaming of alternatives for a physical monastery. What about a large house with land? What about beginning with a small house with 2 – 3 monastics sharing the space? 

As my practice of being present and aware for Gwyn has progressed and I’ve got a lot better at watching and knowing myself as I undertake my daily activities I’ve come to realise that although I enjoy spending a limited amount of time holding sacred space for others I really appreciate having my morning and evening prayer and meditation times solely with my Gods and spirits.

Also, as I’m autistic and thrive on order and routine, in spite of my meditation practices helping me become more responsive and less reactive, I still get incredibly irritable and resentful if others make a mess or interrupt me. This is with my parents, who are relatively quiet and orderly. I dread to think of what I might be like with others with different personalities. I wouldn’t be prepared to change my diet or routine and thus couldn’t expect others to fit with mine. I’m also aware that my main trigger for autistic burnout and meltdowns is organising other people to do things and even worse doing things by committee.

So, finally, I have come to terms with the fact that I am not cut out to run or even be in a monastery. And this is fine because a few months ago I discovered the Carmelite model for lay monasticism and have since then been exploring how this suits me. Perfectly it turns out. I have a couple of hours in the morning and evening for prayer and meditation and the rest of my day is dedicated to shamanic work, studying, writing, housework, gardening and occasional conservation volunteering. I’m still ‘allowed’ to go to the gym.

I recently put forward the model of the monastery functioning as a support structure enabling us to serve our Gods as lay monastics bringing inspiration and wisdom from Annwn to the world, to the other members. Those who replied agreed it fits with them as most have family and work commitments.

Putting aside my hopes and fears around founding a physical monastery has allowed me to fully come home to my life as a lay nun in present-day Penwortham. It allows me to be happier and more present for Gwyn. And, most importantly, it pleases Gwyn too, because the more present I am in the world, the better I am at presencing Him and being of service to Him and my communities.

And my recently planted sanctuary rose bush has bloomed which I take to be a good sign.

*https://lornasmithers.wordpress.com/2024/05/17/dreaming-the-monastery-of-annwn/

Prayer – Some Scaffolding

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I’ve recently been re-reading St Teresa of Avila for inspiration on forming a framework for my own practices and experiences of prayer. Teresa’s techniques are complicated and vary as her ideas change over time as evidenced in The Way of the Perfection and The Interior Castle.

During this time I had a dream in which the Mother Superior of an abbey was giving a talk on prayer and told the audience not to mistake the scaffolding for the thing itself. I thought her words were wise but at present feel like I need a little scaffolding as I attempt to build a palace for prayer fit for Gwyn – Annwn’s King. Below, inspired by Teresa, is my scaffolding for prayer.

Formal Prayer

Formal prayers are those that are addressed to the Gods and are often written down and spoken regularly – daily, monthly or at seasonal celebrations. For example prayers of praise (“Gwyn ap Nudd, Lord of Annwn, I adore Your starlit crown”), prayers of thanksgiving (“I thank You, White Son of Mist, for guiding me on the misty ways”) and prayers of celebration (“Hunter in the Skies tonight we honour You as You ride out with Your hunt.” Prayers of petition and intercession might also be included here. “Bull of Battle, with Your horned helmet, strong shield and piercing spear, lend me Your strength”. “Gatherer of Souls please gather the soul of… to Your realm.”

Conversational Prayer

Conversational prayer is less formal and gives the Gods more space to respond. As St Teresa says it is like conversing with a friend. Checking in, asking what They need from us and for Their advice and guidance, listening to Their opinions on how we have served Them throughout the day. “Good morning.” “I’m feeling… how are you?” “How might I serve you best?” “I’ve got this problem.” “Good evening.” “My day’s been… how was yours?” “I messed up, I’m sorry, what do you think and how can I make repairs?”

Conversations with the Gods might take place like those between human persons, like between two friends, with a Deity appearing in human-like form and speaking directly through the inner senses. The Gods might also respond in more nuanced ways, providing us with a feeling or a knowing, they might show us a vision or a sign in nature or gift us with a dream.

The Prayer of Vision

The prayer of vision involves the active visualisation of a Deity. We can visualise our Gods before us, at our altars, or we can use visualisation meditation to visit Them at Their sacred places in Thisworld or the Otherworld. In this type of prayer we often find at the beginning we feel like we’re ‘making it up’ and we are to some degree yet the very act of imagining is sacred and the beginning of the co-creation of a vision that often shifts and takes on a life of its own as we enter deeper communion with our Gods. Spontaneous visions can also occur both in and outside of prayer time.

The Prayer of Silence

Whilst the prayer of vision involves the active use of the imagination and the inner senses the prayer of silence occurs when the faculties are stilled. Here, it is common to experience a deep sense of calm, of quiet, of abiding with a God. As it lacks sensory content it is notoriously difficult to put into words. I experience it as the otherside of Gwyn’s paradoxical nature – the calm within the storm, the hunter waiting patiently before He rides out hunting for souls, His sleep as the Sleeper in Deep Annwn throughout the summer months.

The Prayer of Union

In the prayer of union we not only abide with a God but are united. This is the sacred marriage or hieros gamos wherein we become one with our Gods. This is not only difficult to put into words but on account of its intimate nature is a mystery that is shared between devotee and God alone.

The Prayer of Presence

I’ve come to this type of prayer last but it might as easily have been first or come anywhere in between because it’s the type of prayer that takes place inside and outside set prayer times and can be practiced any time day and night. That is being present, in the moment, for the Gods and those who we are in relationship with in our every daily lives in both the seen and unseen worlds. 

In most religions we find the aspiration towards ‘unceasing prayer’. Every act, if we have but the will and focus, can become an act of prayer – waking, eating, drinking, working, gardening, cleaning, sleeping. It might be argued that the purpose of the types of prayer above is to provide us with the connection and communion with the Gods that enables to lead deeper and richer lives in Thisworld and to be of better service to the land and to others.

A Nun with a Drum – Contemplating being a Lay Monastic

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‘They strive to lead their lives in the world but not of the world’
~ Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart Los Angeles

When I took my monastic vows as a nun of Annwn in October 2022 I was leading a very solitary life centring on devotion to my Gods and on my writing. My only connections with the outside world were online – with fellow members of the Monastery of Annwn and with the Pagan and Polytheist blogosphere. 

Things changed after I realised my book, The King of Annwn, wasn’t destined to be professionally published and I received the gnosis I must give my ambition to be a professional writer up for good. 

In spring 2024 in a shamanic journey I was shown I must ‘re-root the monastery’. It took me a while to work out what that meant. I took it literally and tried returning to horticultural volunteering but ran into physical limitations with knee problems and Raynaud’s.

I also began training as a shamanic practitioner and have now realised that is where my true calling lies. Over the past six months I have been providing shamanic guidance and running shamanic circles in my local community and have recently begun to offer shamanic healings. 

In some ways that I’m able to go out and work shamanically with individuals and groups of people has come as a surprise as I’m autistic and an introvert and usually find social interaction draining. In other ways it hasn’t because from the very first time I did a shamanic journey I felt a sense of potency and calling and a deep connection with the spirit world that I wanted to share.

Fifteen years since that first shamanic journey, following completing my apprenticeship to my patron God, Gwyn, a ruler of Annwn, the Brythonic Otherworld), I have finally proved ready to guide and heal others.

This has opened the possibility of leading a more outward-facing life than I guessed when I first took my vows. Of serving not only the Gods but other people.

For this I’ve looked for inspiration to other groups of monastics and have found my deepest sense of kinship with the Lay Carmelites. This an order of the Discalced Carmelites who were founded by St Teresa of Avila in 1562. 

Their charism is contemplative prayer, community, and ministry. Their rule of life is characterised by six obligations: meditation, morning and evening prayer, mass, Mary, meetings, mission. (1)

These come very close to what included in the Monastery of Annwn nine vows: keeping morning and evening prayers to the Gods and Goddesses of Annwn, deepening our relationships with Them through prayer, meditation and trance, checking in and praying with other members, and building the monastery. (2)

I particularly like what the Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart Los Angeles have to say about secular Carmelites being those who are called to ‘devotion to prayer’, ’an intimacy with Jesus Who dwells within the soul’, a ‘heart-to-heart encounter with God’ and cultivating a ‘friendship’, ‘a conversing’, a ‘listening to Him which becomes the normal way of life.’ (3)

This fits with my striving to make all my daily activities offerings to Gwyn with my shamanic work fitting so well with Him being a God of the Otherworld. 

They also refer to Lay Carmelites being ‘In the world but not of the world.’ (4) That also fits with my life being centred around my Gods first and foremost rather than on money, career or social life, with my service to other people being one of the ways I serve my Gods.

I’m now two-and-half years into living by vows and am now contemplating the possibility that when I take my lifelong vows in autumn 2026 they might be as a lay nun as opposed to a nun who is leading a near-hermitic life.

“You’re a nun with a drum,” Gwyn told me when I asked if I could bring monasticism and shamanism together. His joking words now summarise my path.

(1) ‘The 6 M’s on being a Carmelite’, Life as an OCDS Carmelite, https://ocds-carmelite.blogspot.com/2009/01/6-ms-on-being-carmelite.html
(2) ‘Our Nine Vows’, The Monastery of Annwn, https://themonasteryofannwn.wordpress.com/our-nine-vows/
(3) ‘Can a Lay person be a Carmelite?’, Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart Los Angeles – https://carmelitesistersocd.com/2013/lay-carmelite/
(4) Ibid.

The Sanctuary of Sister Patience

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In September during our Monastery of Annwn celebration of Gwyn’s Feast I received a missive in the meditation wherein we joined Gwyn feasting in His hall. One of His hounds approached me with a scroll in his mouth. I unrolled it and read the words ‘The Sanctuary of Sister of Patience’. I was then instructed to step up to Gwyn’s cauldron, dip a pen in it, then sign the scroll in blue and red with ‘the Blood of the Dead and the Waters of the Deep.’ 

Thus I signed a contract to create the Sanctuary of Sister Patience. So here it is. Founded on the Cell of Sister Patience. A stepping stone towards building the Monastery of Annwn. 

Right now it is the sacred spaces I keep for my Gods at home and here online. It also the sanctuary I carry within me when I facilitate meditations and rituals for the monastery and one-to-one and group shamanic sessions.

Long term I would like to find a physical place to set up a sanctuary where people can come to pray, meditate and journey with a healing room for shamanic healings.

As a final note I would like to acknowledge the inspiration of Danica Swanson at the Black Stone Sanctuary who opened the sacred doorway to polytheistic monasticism to me.

Building Brythonic Polytheistic Monastic Practices Part Two – Meditation

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Meditation is most developed in the Hindu and Buddhist religions. The earliest references to meditation are in the Vedas from around 1500 BC. In Hinduism the aim of yoga – a combination of meditation (dhayana), breathwork (pranayama) and body postures (asana) – is to still the mind, liberating it from sensory distractions and ultimately from the cycle of death and rebirth, unifying the self (atman) with the Gods (the Brahman or Shiva). In Buddhism the aim of meditation is to reach enlightenment, which resulted in liberation from the cycle of reincarnation as a buddha ‘awakened one’.

These forms of meditation begin with training the mind to focus on one thing – usually the breath. Other subjects of meditation include nature and virtues. Both employ the chanting of sacred syllables to still the mind. Tantric practices involve meditating on and attaining union with a multitude of Deities.

In Christianity meditation is a form of contemplative prayer. Discursive meditation is rooted in the scriptures and involves imagining oneself in the stories, in the shoes of the protagonists, to develop a deeper understanding. Lectio Divina focuses on passages of scripture and has four phases – Lectio (read), meditatio (reflect), oratio (respond) and contemplatio (rest).

Unfortunately I haven’t been able to find any references to meditation in ancient polytheist cultures. The only evidence I have found is the image of the antlered Deity on the Gundestrup Cauldron (150 BC) who is sitting in a meditative position and bears a striking resemblance to Shiva the ‘Lord of Yoga’.

The cauldron is of Celtic La Tène period design and the antlered figure has tentatively been identified as Cernunnos, ‘Horned’, which might be a Gaulish title for Vindos / Gwyn ap Nudd, who I believe is pictured on another plate plunging dead warriors into a vessel headfirst to emerge as riders on His hunt. 

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When I came to Paganism and Polytheism the first type of meditation I came across was guided meditation, which involves being guided by written words or voice into imaginal landscapes to meditate in safe places or meet with Deities. 

Examples include meditations leading to an inner grove, a spring, or a tree, or another form of sanctuary, meeting Brigit at a well or Cernunnos in a woodland. To the best of my knowledge this type of meditation originated in the Western esoteric tradition with groups like the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn and Thelema and was later taken up by Wiccans, Druids and polytheists.

The way I see guided meditation to work is that one must first consciously imagine the scenery (our imagination is one of the tools by which we connect with the Divine) and this act of imagining creates an interface through which the spirit realm speaks. In my experience it is an act of co-creation. Some comes from one’s own imagination and some from the spirit realm in varying degrees and intensity. On some occasions I’ve remained within my imagination and felt like the scenery and Gods are nothing more than cardboard cut-outs and on others I have found myself in lands that are not of my imagining, entirely other, having genuine conversations with the Gods.

Through Druidry I learnt ways of working meditatively with the Brythonic myths by entering into them and standing in the shoes of some of the Deities. Most notably Afagddu, when Taliesin stole His awen and the Cauldron of Ceridwen shattered leaving Him with its poisoning of Gwyddno’s lands.

I also developed a practice akin to Lectio Divina drawn from creative writing workshops in which I meditated on a line or a scene from a medieval Welsh story or poem, then did free writing around it, then crafted it into a finished piece.

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It’s only over the last couple of years I’ve looked into more traditonal forms of mediation. As a Brythonic polytheist I steered clear of the ‘Eastern’ traditions until I learnt that India and Europe shared an Indo-European culture and there are lots of resonances between Hindu and Brythonic beliefs.

Last year I started practicing yoga and integrating meditation, breathwork and body postures into my practice on the basis of a revelation of the Gundestrup Deity as ‘Meditating Gwyn’ as a way of unifying myself with Him.

At the core of my practice is uniting my breath with Gwyn’s breath, my heart with His heart, being as present in my body as possible so He and my other spirits can experience presence in Thisworld through their union with me.

When I first tried focused meditation I found it incredibly difficult (and still do). I avoided it for a while sharing the beliefs of many others that Eastern meditation isn’t for Westerners and isn’t suitable for our busy Western minds.  This changed when I discovered the Breathe and Flow yoga channel and Bre mentioned that if something is difficult it’s often the thing we need most. 

I started practicing focused meditation with their Expand programme and particularly benefited from their meditation, ‘Refocus’, which describes the benefits of stilling our busy ‘monkey minds’, shifting from sympathetic to parasympathetic states of the nervous system and rewiring our neural pathways. This meditation is very useful as every couple of minutes there are reminders, if thoughts have begun to trickle in, to return the attention to the breath. When I meditate alone it often takes longer to catch myself thinking.

Learning from Breathe and Flow that by focusing on and changing my breath I can control my mind and my emotions has been life changing in helping me manage my anxiety and panic which were beforehand often out of control.

I’ve been inspired to adapt some of the pranayama practices to fit with my spiritual path. Sama vritti, ‘box breathing’ (inhale, hold, exhale, hold), I do to a count of seven heartbeats to unite myself with ‘the Breath of the Gods’. Nadi shodhana, ‘alternating nostril breathing’ I use as a way of balancing the red and white dragons, fire and mist, strength and calm. Dirga ‘deep breathing’ and ‘sleep breath’ (4-7-8) I associate with the healing states of Nodens.

As I have learnt the body postures I have come to link some with my Deities and with various animals in the Brythonic myths. Suptka Baddha Konasana ‘reclining bound angle pose’ is Anrhuna as Mother of Annwn and Parsva Savasana ‘side corpse pose or foetal position’ is foetal Gwyn. Tadasana ‘Mountain Pose’ and Utkata Konasana ‘Goddess pose’ invoke the strength of Anrhuna. Adho Mukha Svanasa ‘downward dog’ and ‘Uttana shishosana ‘puppy pose’ are Gwyn’s hounds or the healing dogs in the temple of Nodens.

The medley of animals, Marjaryasana ‘Cat Pose’, Bitilasana ‘Cow Pose’, Mrigasana ‘Deer Pose’, Catur Svanasana ‘Dolphin’ puts me in mind of the animals surrounding the antlered God on the Gundestrup Cauldron and I wonder if the flows between the poses might have been based around stories featuring sacred animals such as the search for Mabon.

The power of these practices and the changes they have brought about in my life have led me to believe that what we know about the Bardic Schools and their twenty-year programmes for memorising poetic forms and traditional tales is but the remnant of a deeper spiritual tradition in which the stories were meditated on and embodied and lived as mythic realities.

Building Brythonic Polytheistic Monastic Practices Part One – Prayer

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In building Brythonic polytheistic monastic practices I feel at once like a pioneer because few people are doing this specific work today but at the same time like I’m standing on the shoulders of thousands of ancestors because since homanids arose the majority have been animists and polytheists.

Since I came to Brythonic polytheism through Paganism and Druidry over ten years ago I have been developing my practices and deepening them further as a monastic since I took vows as a nun of Annwn in 2022.

My main practices are prayer, meditation and trance. These lead into and complement one another and their boundaries can be permeable. Here I will provide my personal understandings and how I have come to them through studying their development in ancient and contemporary polytheisms and current mainstream religions then share how I put them into practice.

Prayer

The first and foremost of my practices is prayer. Prayer, in its most basic form, is conversation with the other-than-human worlds and persons. Indigenous people have always lived in dialogue with the land and its spirits, the Gods and the ancestors, with prayer permeating their lives from rising to sleeping. 

People have likely been praying for as long as they can speak. Some of the earliest recorded examples of polytheist prayers are the Litany of Re from the Egyptian New Kingdom (16th – 11th BC) and the Homeric Hymns (7th BC).

The hegemony of Christianity brought about a shift in focus in prayer from the land and its Deities to one transcendent God and the saints. The rise of rationalism, materialism, industrialisation and capitalism have all played a role in putting into doubt and in erasing beliefs in Gods and spirits. One of the main problems with Western society is that we’ve forgotten how to pray.

Within the current mainstream religions Christianity has the most developed system of prayer and meditation is seen to be a form of contemplative prayer. 

Prayers can be formal (written prayers that are often memorised) or informal (personal prayers in one’s own words often taking the form of a dialogue). Some of the most common forms of prayer are praise / adoration, thanksgiving, petition / supplication, confession, and intercession. Other prayers are written for the marking and celebration of Holy Days.

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Unfortunately we don’t have any evidence of prayers to the Brythonic Gods because the ancient Britons did not write anything down. However, archaeological evidence shows they made offerings of bones, pottery, jewellery, weapons and other objects in sacred places such as hill-tops, springs, rivers, lakes, bogs, in pits and shafts, and in or near burial mounds. Such offerings were undoubtably accompanied by prayers and ceremonies. 

Much of our knowledge of the Brythonic Gods comes from Romano-British altars and temples wherein they were often equated with the Roman Gods (for example Apollo-Maponos, Mars-Nodens, Sulis-Minerva). The vast numbers of Romano-British curse tablets recovered from sacred sites show people were petitioning the Gods for aid against those who had wronged them.

We also find references in Roman texts to ancient Gaulish and British rituals. Most of them describe sacrifices of animals and humans. These ceremonies  (and others less bloody) likely opened and closed and were punctuated with prayers to the Gods who were the recipients. Tacitus describes black-clad women with fiery brands and Druids raising their hands to the skies in prayer to call upon the Gods for aid against the Roman invastion of Anglesey.

These more extreme examples presuppose an underlying relationship with the Gods founded on prayer and reciprocity common amongst the general populace.

By the time the stories of the Brythonic Gods were written down in the medieval period Britain had been Christianised and all but Wales Anglicised. The Gods appear in the texts in euhemerised form (eg. Maponos as Mabon, Matrona as Modron) but the only prayers to be found are to the Christian God.

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This has meant Brythonic polytheists have had to begin writing prayers from scratch, building on the forms found in ancient polytheisms and other religions.

Thankfully we’re not alone. The rise of the polytheist movement has given birth to numerous devotionals featuring prayers from publishers such as 

Bibliotheca Alexandrina and Moon Books and from independent authors and editors.

I worked with Dun Brython building devotional material for several years. On the website and in the devotional anthology The Grey Mare on the Hill can be found a variety of prayers to Brythonic Deities with a focus on Rigantona / Rhiannon.

Pauline Kennedy’s ‘Prayer for Epona Rigantona’ is an excellent example of praise.

‘Epona of Horses, I praise you!
Rigantona of the Land, I praise you!
Epona of Sovereignty, I praise you!
Rigantona of Journeys, I praise you!
Epona of Stables, I praise you!…’

‘Rigantona: Calan Gaeaf’ by Greg Hill is a seasonal prayer marking the first day of winter.

‘By Orion’s light
At the dark of the moon
Now the hawthorn tree is bare

A shadow passes through the veil
Of the Otherworld on a Grey Mare

Rigantona; roses wither on your altar
But we keep your vigil here.’ 

Albion and Beyond is an active Brythonic polytheist group committed to sharing information and resources and to building community. Here there is a section on the Bardic Arts with poetry for Andraste, Cocidius, Maponos and Nodens.

‘Cloud-Maker’ by Nico Solheim-Davidson praises Nodens and petitions Him for rain.

‘Nodens, Iron-handed ruler
Cloud-maker, dream-catcher
Hound-master, net-thrower, rain lord. 
Waters of deep Dumons you ride,
Turning to rain, the provider…
Guide us Iron-Hand to good times,
As we turn our praise to you, lord.
Come fast cloud-chasers, mist-racers,
Bounding and bustling in the sky,
Bring unto us your rapid rains, 
Fill the heavens with your dark cloaks.’

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My personal practice began mainly with informal prayers to Gwyn, my patron God, and His family and my local spirits along with formal prayers for Holy Days. Since I became a nun I have been using more formal prayer – some prayers I have written myself and shared prayers of the Monastery of Annwn.

I get up at 4am and begin my morning prayers with a statement of intent to honour Gwyn. Speaking His name as the first word after I have got up and the last word before I go to bed has become increasingly important to me.

This is followed by prayers of praise to the Spirit of the Monastery, the spirits of place, the ancestors, and Gwyn and His family then formal prayers for Gwyn. These include both written prayers and songs. In the summer, when Gwyn is absent, every morning I sing a seasonal song called ‘You Are Gone.’ 

‘Dawn arrives but You are gone,
the birds are singing yet You are gone,
the flowers are turning their petalled heads
Towards the sun but you are gone…

You are gone but Your haunting 
is everywhere with Your promise of return…’

I also read a shared prayer of the monastery, ‘In Summer We Miss You.’

‘In summer we miss You 
We miss You like we miss the rain
but we know You will return again
like the raindrops on our window panes…’

This is followed by informal prayer which usually includes adoration and petition. ‘Gwyn ap Nudd, my lord, my teacher, my inspiration, my beloved, I appreciate the sacrifice You made through your death and sleep so summer can come. I am grateful for Your tireless work through the winter gathering souls. You are the Heart of my Heart, the heartbeat of my heartbeat, keeping me alive and strong. I pray to You today I might be more present, compassionate, loving, as You love me and all the souls You gather…’ Time is also spent simply being with Gwyn and listening to what He has to say.

My evening prayers take a similar form but with thanksgiving in the place of praise and ‘confession’ in the place of petition. Here I don’t mean confessing sins as such but sharing what I’ve done during the day and getting any mistakes and failures off my chest. ‘I’ve worked hard today on Your book but I got side-tracked by wondering if anyone has checked in on my blog…’ I spend time in communion with Gwyn and playing a heartbeat on my drum to bring my heart into alignment with His.

Finally, I pray to Nodens for as my God of dreams, then I say farewell to Gwyn.

An example of my daily prayers from last October can be viewed HERE. 

I am also striving to become more prayerful in my daily activies. To see writing, exercising, cleaning, cooking, gardening as forms of prayer. This doesn’t come easily to me as someone who has been very task / goal rather than relationship orientated for most of my life and is one of my biggest challenges.

The Challenges of Taking a Polytheistic Monastic Name

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In the mainstream religions it is traditional for monastics to take a monastic name when they are ordained into a monastery on taking their vows.

When Christians monks and nuns take temporary vows they take a new name. This must be the name of a saint, monastic or Old Testament figure. The name is preceded by ‘brother’ or ‘sister’ as they see each other as family. For example Brother David, Sister Mary, Brother John. Three choices are handed to the Abbot who makes the final decision on the name.

Buddhist monastics are given a Dharma name, usually by the head of the monastery or by their teacher, and may have several different names during a lifetime. For example Shinran’s first name was Matsuwakamaru and his other monastic names were Hanen, Shakku, Zenshin, Gutoku Shinran and Kenshin Daeshi.

In Hindiusm monastics also take a new name when initiated by a guru. For example Paramahansa Yogananda was born Mukunda Lal Ghosh.

When a monastic name is taken it symbolises giving up one’s old identity, wealth and ties with family and friends to enter the community of the monastery. One’s secular life is renounced for a religious life.

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Modern Polytheism began to emerge in the 1960s and to grow in the 1990s. Polytheistic monasticism has developed more recently with the first book, Polytheistic Monasticism: Voices from the Pagan Cloisters, published in 2022. It has precedents in Pagan and Druidic monasticism.

The only physical Pagan monastery in existence is the Matreum of Cybele. Online Druidic monastic organisations include the Order of the Sacred Nemeton and Gnostic Celtic Church Monastery. Unfortunately I couldn’t find any information on their websites about whether monastics are required to take a monastic name or if they renounce their former life in any way.

In Paganism, more widely, it is common to take a craft name or magical name. This can be chosen through contemplating which animals, herbs, myths and Deities one has an affinity with or can be gifted by the Gods and spirits. Some well known examples are Greywolf, Starhawk, Bobcat, Robin Herne and Nimue Brown. This is used in the Pagan community and does not involve changing one’s identity and ties with secular sociey in which one’s regular name is retained.

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I am a Brythonic Polytheist and received my monastic name from my patron God, Gwyn ap Nudd, before I took vows as a nun. It started as a joke. Lockdown reawakened my longings for a monastic life. I’m an incredibly impatient person and, when I was being impatient with the weeds, Gwyn chided me, “Sister Patience.” I took it as a challenge, telling him “I will become Sister Patience.” It was a self-fulfilling prophecy for three years later I founded the Monastery of Annwn and took vows by that name.

For me the shift in name and identity from Lorna Smithers to Sister Patience has been a gradual one. I first started using my monastic name in the monastery only, then, as I began to change and grow to own it, I renamed my blog ‘The Cell of Sister Patience’ using it more widely in online spaces.

In February 2024 I was faced with the decision of whether to return to a regular job, which would have meant staying as Lorna Smithers and likely returning to old habits like shopping and drinking due to the stress and having more money, or to fully commit to a monastic life as Sister Patience.

My ability to choose the latter was made possible by mum offering to support me financially if my savings run out before I have found a way of supporting myself through a combination of writing and spiritual work.

This gave me the security to take the step of using my monastic name in all my communities, keeping my birth name only for financial and legal purposes.

It hasn’t been an easy process. Everyone who knows me knows I’m very impatient, thus Sister Patience would be the last name they would call me. My mum’s first reaction was, “I’m not calling you that!” before I explained. She still keeps calling me Lorna or, bizarrely, Beatrice, but is getting better. My dad won’t use it. My uncle on my mum’s side and his partner have been accepting. Most of my friends and the horticultural groups I volunteer with along with my personal trainer at the gym have been supportive. 

As a polytheistic monastic without a physical monastery it is impossible for me to make the break with the secular world made by other monastics. Ethically I am currently unable to make such a break as my eldery parents are dependent on me for support around the house and in the garden. 

Instead I strive to live as monastically as I can considering my circumstances. I serve my Gods through my spiritual practices and creativity and treat my room as a monastic cell and my home and garden as a monastery. My engagement with the wider world is limited to occassionally seeing friends for a walk and / or a brew and to attending spiritual groups. I don’t use social media and limit my online time to engaging with others for spiritual discussions and research for my writing along with learning yoga.

Taking a monastic name hasn’t changed how I am around people. I’m not putting on airs and graces. I’m not pretending to be something I’m not. I still swear. I still get angry. I still get impatient. But, looking back, not quite so much. There is power in taking a name and perhaps, one day, I will live up to it.