by Kay Broome

Willow Catkins in Spring (photo: Nazar Niphone)

Spring Thaw: that sudden melt of dingy snow into massive puddles of muck, so annoying and inconvenient, yet somehow invigorating, exuberant. March, an all too fleeting month of muddy browns and ochres, dotted here and there with demure pastel flowers, soon to be washed away in April rain. Winter is a sleep and hibernation, a cleansing in its own way. But we do need to heal from it, for each year, its rigidity toughens the fibre and tests the soul.  Messy as it is, Spring Thaw is a letting go of winter, a softening and mollification, an awakening to the active season ahead. Here, at Ostara, we thaw from winter’s freeze, flowing into spring.

Willows overhanging Pond (photo: CHUTTERSNAP)

Tree of Water, Tree of Life

Perhaps the first tree to leaf forth in spring is the willow, almost all of whose parts are pliant – the supple trunk of the young tree, the whip like branches and the narrow, languid leaves.  Only when the tree is old does the trunk become bent and raddled; but the wood remains soft, easily cleaved and molded.  Many years ago, I was part of a ritual honouring Yemaya, the Santeria mother goddess of the oceans and of ships. We set small home-made boats to sail on Lake Ontario laden with offerings to this orisha. My boat was a small slab of wood, its shape serendipitously resembling a tiny cruise ship. It had been cut with one easy chop of the ax from an old willow that had fallen on my parents’ property. It was as if Yemaya had selected that specific tree from which to make my boat.

Willows on Grenadier Pond, Toronto, Spring 2023 (photo: Kay Broome)     

Tree of the Lunar Goddess

Willow owns water, growing in the wild near rivers, streams, lakes and swamps. A willow that thrives anywhere water is not apparent is a sure sign that a copious underground supply of the wet element is hidden nearby. Because the moon influences the tides of ocean and other water bodies, willow is also closely tied to the lunar orb. As a result, the tree has long been associated with women’s mysteries. The moon rules the menses, which scientists now believe acts not only to prepare the womb for the next fertile cycle, but also to cleanse it of any impurities. Moreover, more infants are born during the new and, especially the full moon than any other time of the lunar cycle.

Full Moon Over Catfish Pond, Winter 2023 (photo: Kay Broome)

Lady of the Full Moon

Anyone who has studied Greek mythology knows that willow was sacred to Artemis, goddess of the hunt and the waxing moon, as well as to Hecate, goddess of witchcraft, commonly associated with the waning moon. Although Selene represented the moon in her full and thus most powerful aspect, it is strange that this third goddess in the Greek triad is the least known and least acclaimed. Selene was sister to the sun god Helios, daughter of Hyperion and Theia. She was not an Olympian like Artemis, but like Hecate, was a member of the Titans, an older chthonic race of gods.

Statue of Selene with lunar headdress, torch and veil, Musei Capitolini (photo: Sailko)

While Artemis and Hecate are lunar goddesses, they did not, in ancient times at least, represent the physical aspect of the moon. That honour was left solely to Selene. Her alternate name, Luna, although infrequently used today, was traditionally regarded as the moon's formal moniker. And whereas Artemis and Hecate were often depicted wearing crescent tiaras, Selene was the sole goddess portrayed with cow horns, much like the Egyptian moon goddess, Hathor. These factors may point to the possibility that Selene was originally the sole representative of the moon. Plutarch mentions an interesting story of her mother Theia complaining how she cannot find a robe to fit her daughter, because Selene keeps changing size: an allusion to the waxing and waning of the moon. I believe Hathor of Egypt did not have other goddesses sharing her purview, so perhaps the early Greeks or their ancestors the Minoans or Cycladic peoples, eventually transformed their sole lunar deity, together with Artemis and Hecate, into the triple lunar goddess we know and love so well today.  Both Artemis and Hecate already possessed other purviews: the former ruled the hunt and was protector of animals; Hecate was goddess of witchcraft and hidden knowledge.  There is also evidence that both were outsiders, latecomers to the Greek pantheon. Artemis may have been a bear goddess of central Asia, and Hecate originated in Thrace. In any event, they are to this day irrevocably tied to the moon, Artemis as waxing and Hecate the waning crescent, with Selene balancing them as the vibrant full moon.

Hecate Chiaramonti, Chiaramonti Vatican Museums, Vatican (Photo: Jastrow)

Although a tri-form Hecate, this Roman statue is often attributed by neo-pagans as Artemis, Selene and Hecate.

In her most famous myth, Selene became enamoured of Endymion, a young and very handsome shepherd. In some versions of the tale, he was an astrologer and the first person to study the movements of the moon. Selene asked Zeus to put Endymion into a permanent peaceful sleep so that he would never die and she could visit him in his cave on Mt. Latmos. This is an intriguing tale: does Endymion represent the subconscious, that comes fully into its power when we dream?  Certainly, the moon has long been associated with dreams and the subconscious. It is interesting also to note that Endymion is a shepherd sleeping inside a cave. In other tales, Pan is depicted as a lover of Selene and at one point, entices her with a beautiful white sheepskin fleece. There is little if any indication in Greek myth attributing prophecy to Pan; however, there is the Roman Faunus, a god of fields and woodland, who was often depicted with horns and thus associated with Pan of the Greeks. Devotees would visit a cave sacred to Faunus, there to sleep on sheepskins in order to have prophetic dreams. Could Endymion be an aspect of Faunus or Pan? Remember too that both Artemis and Selene were, from Hellenic times, frequently associated with the shepherd god Pan.

Selene and Endymion (photo: Oliver Abels)

Mural above the stage of the Friedrich von Thiersch Saal in the Wiesbaden Kurhaus, Hesse, Germany

Sleep, dreamless or otherwise, is often evasive if we are sick or in pain.  Willow is an emollient containing salicin, an anodyne which gently removes pain, just as we are soothed by moonlight and water, willow's element. Tension and muscle rigidity can aggravate discomfort and in some cases, is the cause of suffering. While we no longer use willow bark itself as anodyne, Aspirin and other painkillers use salicylic acid, modelled on willow's ancient panacea. The tree's compassion further carries us through the seasons: she is one of the last to lose her leaves in autumn and one of the first to leaf forth in spring.

Selene, painting by Albert Aublet, 1880 (Open Source, Wikimedia Commons)

Native Hoop Dancing

Willow has been used since time immemorial to make baskets, food containers and many other items.  First Nations people of North America venerated the willow for its medicinal and spiritual qualities.  Branches of willow were traditionally fashioned into the hoops used in the ceremonial hoop dances. It is not certain where hoop dancing originated or even if, as some believe, only men traditionally performed it. Since the mid 20th century at any rate, both men and women have competed in hoop dancing events and competitions.  Generally, these are solo dances in which the performer creates intricate patterns using a varying number of hoops and a range of body movements.  The Anishnaabe cultural hero Pukawiss is credited with originating the dance in order to teach humans how to cohabit with animals and better understand the world about us. Among the White Mountain Apache, hoop dances were employed in healing rituals.

Below is a link to a Youtube video of world champion Lisa Odjig, an Ojibwe from Manitoulin Island, hoop dancing at a TEDx Talk at Seneca College, Toronto, Canada in April of 2012.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aekMz60W1Hw&ab_channel=TEDxTalks

The Dream Catcher

Dream Catcher (photo: Minja Nim)

The hoops used in the making of dream catchers were also fashioned from willow wood. These are believed to have originated with the Ojibwe of the Eastern Woodlands. The web-like design of these talismans is associated with Spider Woman, a protector of women and children. While the Spider deity shows up in many indigenous North American cultures, it was Asibikaashi, the Spider Woman of the Ojibwe or Chipewa nations, who is credited with originally endowing humans with the dream catcher. Traditionally, these are small hoops or wreaths made of willow, with sinew woven into a web pattern inside the hoop.

The dream catcher’s traditional role as a charm or amulet is much like that of the witch balls or god’s eyes of other cultures. Often hung above cradles or in windows, the dream catcher was used to protect small children, the web design trapping any negative energy that might be about. Dream catchers were adopted and used as talismans by many First Nations cultures throughout North America. Today, in most non-indigenous homes, dream catchers are simply a decorative item. But they were originally meant to be used as protective talismans. Conventionally, the webbing is joined to the hoop at seven junctures, to honour the seven prophecies of the First Nations, or at eight points, to honour the eight legs of Spider Woman.

Author's Dream Catcher (photo: Kay Broome)

Or it can be joined at 13 points as is mine (above), to represent the thirteen lunar months. In the early 2000s, I helped initiate a community garden here in Toronto and for a number of years, many of the volunteers grew crops within the space.  But when people moved away or became too busy with other things, our garden languished. I asked a local First Nations shelter if they would be willing to take over the garden for use in their rehabilitation programming. They were happy to do so and I was greatly surprised and very moved when, as a token of their appreciation, the shelter staff gifted me with the beautiful dream catcher shown above. Over time, I have added items to it that personally resonate with me.

Willow Tree near Humber Bridge, West Toronto (photo: Kay Broome)

Since the tree it represents is sacred to water, the Talking Forest Willow deals with emotions, especially sadness and empathy. The key counsels intuition and the understanding of the ebb and flow of the tides of life.  As a rune bound to the moon, Willow deals with women’s mysteries, the occult and that which is frequently hidden, to be eventually revealed. Willow’s day, Monday, named after the moon, was traditionally set aside as the weekly wash day.  Like linden, willow is a gentle healer, and it has been used in herbal medicine, for as long as even the mighty elder bush.  Willow’s purifying power is gentler than that of Cedar, the rune that directly precedes her in the Talking Forest array. 

Upright, the Talking Forest Willow suggests a gentle healing process, or, in some cases, a grieving over someone or something that is gone. The inverted rune implies intuition at work or psychic abilities coming to the fore. It may also reference lunar influences at work. The key in this position can further suggest a mourning period that must come to an end, showing a need to move on.  The toppled or sideways rune can warn of illness that must be attended to. Conversely it may illustrate a lack of compassion or a drying up of intuition. Meditation on the moon and water can help redress this.

Fallen Willow at Catfish Pond, Toronto (photo: Kay Broome)