The festival of Golden Gorse (Lughnasadh)
We’re in the season of the first harvests, Lughnasadh. It’s the first of the Celtic festivals of Harvest, at the height of summer when grain is gathered. A time for long, warm mellow days, the last glow of the summer, celebrating the abundance of the earth and moving between the fire element and the air element on which seed carries—there’s a sense of fullness, and plenty, but also a softening.
In Brittany, it’s Lugnasdagh, also known as The Festival of Golden Gorse. Also known as Furze, it’s a plant associated with several of the Celtic festivals as it blazes golden for most of the year. And at this time of the year its glowing yellow links it to the sun god Lugh. He’s the Celtic god of light and genius, a warrior and a craftsman who is also associated with oaths and truth.
As an evergreen that flowers all year round, furze carry within it a spark of the sun’s life giving energy, a spark to carry into the darker winter months. A symbol of hope, resilience, boundaries (the spines are not for messing with) and the promise of good things to come. A plant that tells us to keep the faith even in the most challenging times.
Medicinally gorse (Ulex europaeus), which tends to grow on wild, untamed land, is not something we’d useinternally,not only due to its spiny, tough exterior, but also because of its seeds and alkaloid content make it poisonous. Despite this, an infusion of the flowers (without seeds or pods) is a mild anti-inflammatory and diuretic. And the flowers can also make an astringent wash for wounds or minor infections.
As a flower essence remedy it is a symbol of hope and optimism, which fits the season of harvest and abundance. I ate them once around a table of writers at my home in Wales, sprinkled on salad, a tangle of its thorns and flowers making a centre-piece. It was the beginning of the pandemic, the last days before lock-down and the dazzling flowers set amongst sharp spikes spoke of light in the darkness. Gorse flowers even in harsh, poor soils and in midwinter, a solar presence in difficult surroundings. Traditionally the tea salves chronic illness, exhaustion andgrief.
Gorse is a plant of theedges, who grows on boundaries and inhospitable places, whoblooms fiercely, even in a bristling world. As we gathered round my table, we needed that sense of being held by a plant of sudden sweetness in a tricky time. And we need it now.
This year at Lughnasadh we harvest not only barley, wheat and corn, berries and ables, but a freight of sorrow for our world. Perhaps a festival that takes its name from a warrior god, a protector as well as a symbol of light and knowledge, is bound to hold these paradoxes together.
High summer and so much to give thanks for. Blazing heat as the earth warms to dangerous levels. In this both/and world we need hope and resilience. We need allies with strong boundaries as well as sweetness.
But we need also to continue to celebrate — an act of defiance against those who would grind down the world, to continue to give thanks. Despite the wors that is happening, this remains a world of abundance. There is enough and more on this earth for all of us. An not only do we dwell on an earth that keeps giving in the face of all we do, but every day there are breath-taking acts of human kindness. And every day babies are born and the sunset is gorgeous and mountains stand tall and people fall in love. Every day, there are harvests — physical and emotional.
To pause and give thanks in the midst of this paradox can be absolutely soul-salving. It’s not glib — a way to pretend the darkness isn’t there. It’s much deeper than that — it’s a way of holding all of life together, of finding the joy beyond the hedge of thorns.
What are three things you are grateful for in this moment?