Welcome To Issue #2 - Wild Rose! In these pages we will explore the magical and ritual
uses of the trees, bushes, shrubs, and herbs growing wild, or naturalized
in our neck of the woods, which is central West Virginia. (Rosa spp.) There are several species of wild roses growing in our area. The main one is a naturalized species, Multiflora Rose. Originally planted for use as a natural fence, it quickly spread to all farms and fields. I have seen specimens growing up into the top of a tree, and another one engulfing an abandoned house. These are the extremes, of course. The Multiflora Rose bushes on our farm, are somewhat more self-contained. We also have the delicate pink wild Pasture Rose in our meadows, and a few Hybrid Tea Roses & an Apothecary Rose in our gardens. Folklore: Humanity's love affair with the rose dates back 5,000 years to Sumerian times. In the 16th century, colonists brought the rose to North America, making it the longest cultivated European plant in this country. Roses are the ultimate symbols of love. The wild roses provide a safe bower for the fairies, and for baby rabbits. Wild roses carry the strongest rose energy for healing and love, and the petals are used by fairy godmothers to bless newborn babies. Traditional Uses: Petals and fruit from all species of Rosa are equally edible. Petals are distilled into rose water, infused into tea (headaches), added to salads, and candied. Or dried for potpourris, beads & sachets. Rose hips, the fruit of the rose bush, can be used in jams* and for making herbal tea. They are rich in vitamin C. Because rose hips often hang on the bush all winter, they are an excellent emergency survival food. The pulpy exterior of the hips can be eaten raw. Rose petals are strewn in the paths of brides, and showered on honored leaders. The flowers are given as love tokens. A Sacred Wood: Tree Hugging is a way to get in contact with a tree you wish to gain knowledge from. Edain McCoy, in her book, Advanced Witchcraft, suggests steps to take if you wish to try it. Greet the tree and assure it you mean it no harm. Bring a gift, and if you feel the tree is nervous, leave the gift and try again another day. Once you gain permission from the tree, try pressing your forehead, the psychic chakra center known as the third eye, to its trunk. Wrap your arms around the tree and place your palms flat against it. Take a few moments to feel the tree and allow it to feel you. Trees are individuals and you may get different answers from different trees of the same species. Record your experiences and you will find favorite trees you will want to go back to as friends. Tree hugging was out of the question in this case, so to find the Native and naturalized wild rose's attributes and uses for sacred ritual, we did a trance to the rose bush. There were five of us in the trance. We stated our intention, created sacred space with a thorny Multiflora Rose branch wand, had dried pink rose petals & hips on the table and rose perfume, and put on a trance drumming CD. Following are our insights into the Wild Rose. Several of us felt the grounding influence of the wild rose: she grows roots out of every part of her that touches the ground (especially useful if you are grounding while sitting or lying down). A guardian and protector, the wild rose feels an affinity to small animals, rabbits in particular, and birds. She is a mothering tree, protective, patient, nourishing (body and soul) and healing (physically and emotionally). She represents unconditional love, wishing, hope, tolerance, openness, honesty (maybe even painfully honest!), and community. The rose bush of one of us wanted a hug, others gave us hugs. Just like a mother! Another aspect of the rose might be a parent's concern for their child, or children. Mothers often have eyes in the back of their heads, hence finding and protection for a lost or wayward offspring. Rose also reminds us of the negative aspects of being a mother (clinging, sharp, she is everywhere/makes sure to know everything/you can't get away from her), so be mindful of that when planning rituals involving specific people. But what about the thorns? Don't rub a rose the wrong way! It is true that the rose protects, but does so by banishing and warding. Rose is a fierce protector. Sacred Holidays of the Rose: Imbolc, Beltane and Samhain;
and especially the life passages that a mother would be involved in: weddings,
births, first blood, croning, funerals. Magical Properties: Mother Tree, protection, love, emotional healing, warding, grounding, fairies blessing babies. References: Advanced Witchcraft, Edain McCoy Blackberry Cove Herbal* by Linda Ours Rago, includes recipe for a magical Rose Hip Marmalade! Edible Wild Plants, Lee Allen Peterson Shamanic Journeying by Sandra Ingerman
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Blessed Be, Lynn
Articles, photos, and artwork © 2005 Arcadia Studios Full Transcripts of Trance Journeys: Trance to Rose I couldn't keep myself in trance this time, something wasn't right or my body kept bringing me back, fast. While in trance, I couldn't concentrate. So, instead of finding a rosebush with which to converse, I found myself sitting, head in hands in an open meadow, crying. I just couldn't do it today. Then I looked up, and right there in front of me, in the middle of a meadow, was a little rose. She said hello to me, though not really in words, and I expressed my frustration/hopelessness, and she comforted me, and, perhaps, said that she would/could help me. I wasn't sure, up until this point, whether the plant was a young multifloral rose, or one of those delicate small meadow roses with the pink flowers. Then, she grew over me, she went from a delicate little thing to a great strong plant, a dense thicket, right over me, so that I was in that hollow place under the rosebush, all encased and surrounded by it's many, many canes and overarching branches. Definitely a multifloral rose. Not surprising, as this is what grows most here, and who I was expecting to meet. I was laying on my side under the sudden rosebush, and I was unclear as to whether I was me/human, or a rabbit. I could feel an overlay of rabbitness and see either me or a rabbit laying there. Perhaps it was because this is a rabbit-place. It was quiet, dim, peaceful. I couldn't tell if it was winter or summer, as all the branches I could see were greyish, perhaps dead but certainly without leaves. The rose grew far above me, and above the lower, older branches. She said that she would protect me, hold me. And I did feel quite safe. It felt wintery under there, or slightly prison-like, but I knew I could get out when I wanted, by becoming a rabbit, like I kept feeling. The rose forces you to change to get around her, to think differently, to become ingenious and tricky to get around her. I, however, had no desire to leave right then, and I wasn't popping out of trance under there, either. I was instead going too deep, my mind began to wander into dreamlike random images, I kept asking the same questions, nodding off and asking them again. She was very patient and even understanding of me throughout this, and I was quite glad of it. She had this tolerance about her, nothing bothered her, and she was very loving, unconditionally. She was definitely a Mother tree, and I was also well aware that she could also easily embody the negative aspect of mother; clinging, sharp, she is everywhere/makes sure to know everything/you can't get away from her. She did not directly show me this side of her, though. I was depressed that I couldn't do this well, today, and she encompasses
me with reassurance, she gave me hope, and healing. She said she was for
healing, and as much emotion was going on, on both our parts, it seemed
to be more emotional healing than physica She also said she was for love. I said something like 'so the cliché is actually true?' and she said yes. Her flowers seemed to have been sited as evidence of this, actually more their smell, but she also said that part of that was not being afraid to speak your mind, no matter what. That you have to say what's on you're mind, even if it is sharp, even if it might hurt someone. Oh well. You did need to say it. I asked her what she would think of being burned as a ritual fire starter. She didn't mind at all, though she was iffy about being sold/the bundle being sold. In the end she decided it was ok with her. I asked her about holiday, she said Imbolc first, then going around the circle she said Beltane, stopped to think, then said Samhain. She paused to think some more, and couldn't seem to decide about specific ones, and she said, 'well, any of them, really.' I asked what other trees she would or wouldn't like to burn with, and I got this mental flash of a rose/roses would or could grow anywhere, with (and up into) anything; and she said any of them really- she didn't have a preference. The symbol she gave me was based on stem with thorns, it was quite a clear picture. At some point along the way, she said ask her anything, she'll make it happen/see what she can do, to which I replied 'are you a Wishing tree, then?' She kinda laughed and said yeah, she didn't mind being called that. I decided I had to go quite abruptly, and become the rabbit I'd been feeling since she grew over me, and hopped out of the rosebush. At the edge I became a small bird, and flew out of trance very abruptly. I went back, basically to tell her thank you for speaking with me, being patient and all, and sorry I left so soon, and she was just as happy to see me the second as the first, glad I came back to thank her. I also reviewed a little with her, talked some more. I didn't stay very long that time, but it was clearer, and I was a little songbird perched in the upper branches, with the green leaves and the fruits. Also, before the trance ever began, we grounded by visualizing being a rosebush, roots growing into the ground. I got to thinking on rose roots, cut the bush down, it grows right back. You can't kill the roots. From this I got the word Immortality. This is also the first plant that I've visited that appeared as only one gender. Usually the plant will alternate gender or do something to show me it's really both. The rose didn't do that. It was female the whole time. Sandwalker (1-17-05) Roses During the grounding, when Red Leaf said to grow roots out your finger tips, I thought of Rose as a Grounding Tree, where every branch tip will root as it hits the ground and grows up again. When the drumming started, I walked to my favorite Multiflora Rose Bush that I take the goats to as the first thing growing in the Spring. She is taller than me with a large trunk in the center. There she was, awake and aware of me. I greeted her and asked if I could speak to her. She said "Sure--come on in!" and she reached out her arms to me and gathered me inside her thorny branches. I was not hurt by her thorns, and it occurred to me that I was a rabbit, safe and protected by her. Then she bloomed prolifically, with love, unconditional, selfless, love. Then came the rose hips, her fruit, for nourishment. She is a Mother Tree. Multi-tasking -- taking pride in her accomplishments. The symbol I got for her was O. Then I went to the Hybrid Tea Roses in our gardens. They were silent, almost pouty. I had to sit with them a long time before they would acknowledge me. It seemed, they felt inferior to the wild roses. Though they had thorns, they had no cover for small animals, no hips for them to eat. I had to convince them of their worth. "Your flowers' beauty and fragrance is soul-food," I said, "Spiritual nourishment." Then I went back to the Multifloral, and asked what holidays Roses like to participate in. In keeping with being a Mother Tree, she said --"Life passages like weddings, birthings, first blood (double meaning there if you have ever been pricked by a thorn!), croning, and the Tea Roses added funerals to the list. Then I went to one more Multiflora Bush, the one I had taken the wand and hips from earlier in the day. I apologized for the pruning (the branches were hanging into the asparagus patch). And she said: "Prune away! Pruning makes me stronger!" Then I started saying my goodbyes and thanks to all the various roses I had visited, and the drumming ended right after that. Lynn Red Leaf's Rose Trance I decided to contact multi floral rose, or multiple rose as it is called around here. I had a specific one in mind, and my journey to it was also the journey into trance... In my mind's eye, I left the mundane comfort of our house and went outside. I walked through our mowed lawn, past the goat barn. I crossed the driveway and creek, entering an area of our farm that is only cut for hay, and hadn't been cut at all this past year. I entered the gap into one of our meadows (again, one that had not been cut this year) and in one corner of the meadow stood a rose about as big as our bedroom, the one I sought. I had arrived... Oh rose, it is true that when I first moved to this area and met you, I adopted the local folks' attitude that you were "filth." However, as time went on I came to know you as one who reclaims land that humans have abused, and one who protects the small animals that are becoming increasingly scarce. I ask permission to speak with you. I received no reply for quite some time. I was beginning to lose interest when into my mind popped "Hello, whaddya want!" in a tone that reminded me of a typically rude resident of Queens, New York City. "I have come to ask your permission to be used as ritual firewood in pagan ceremonies." "Ritual firewood!" came the answer, "F*ck You!" His (definitely male) attitude was contagious, and I replied "Whaddya mean, 'F*ck You?' I took your 'Hello, whaddya want!' as giving me permission to speak with you. What gives?" Although I don't recall the exact reply, it felt the same as "Bite Me!" "Look, its true that I have cut many a rose in my time, I have burned them, and even put used motor oil on them. But you know very well that I have never killed even one. You always come back at least as strong as you were. So don't be so thin skinned! As I came to appreciate you, I have even propagated you, transplanting rose to a dump site so you could heal it. So cut me some slack, dammit!" No response. I had trouble staying in trance, I kept thinking it was a waste of time, then changing my mind. I got no response to the question of what its attributes were, but it was clear to me that grumpy and rude were among them. To the question of what purpose it would like to be burned for, again I got no response. But, to the question of what holiday or Sabbat it would be burned during, I got the response of "Samhain." To me, that answer implied that yes, it would allow itself to be burned as ritual wood. It ignored me when I asked for correspondences, but I did receive an
image of a rune: I then thanked the rose, and said goodbye, to which I got no reply. Upon comparing notes with the rest of the "trance team," it was obvious that I got totally different results than they did. I decided that I received the other side of protection, which in this case was more like warding. The other trancers had approached Rose as animals and were welcomed and sheltered. I approached Rose as a human, from the outside, and got the thorns and the repulsion. Makes sense to me! Red Leaf ROSE a group trance 1-16-05 © margaret smith volkwein A rose is a rose is a rose. I pick up the rose wand, a long thorny branch with rose berries and tiny tiny buds. I tangle it with everything on the table and set it back down again, carefully. Lynn picks it up at a certain angle and lifts it up easily. She casts the circle, invoking the God and Goddess. I look over and see Sandwalker asleep on the bedrock of the world, like she was in her own bed and was dreaming. Red Leaf finishes the grounding. He has turned us into rosebushes. Lynn starts the trance drumming CD and we set out to talk to ROSE. I snag my left big toe on a big thorn branch, half hidden in the golden grass. I trip and fall right into the center of the rosebush. I try to get out and the thorns stick me. I lay there and the rose branches whip over me like memories of past roses. I can't go back out, the way the thorns are made they will snag you. I lean into the rosebush center. it is the size and shape of a leafy cabbage. Its branches are dark. The center is breathing blue-gray light. I fall into it and THERE is the rose. I greet her and ask her permission to use her in a ritual fire. She clasps her hands and move them toward me, a gesture of acceptance. Her face is short and broad, her large blue eyes shadowed all round. her hair is red and her floating gown is rust-red. She looks about fourteen. She has a high colored complexion with transparent white skin. The color comes and goes as she talks and laughs. She leans close and whispers. She gives me a paisley rose. Now she wears a crown of white and gold that gets bigger, like a giant flower. It grows bigger and she disappears into the flower. Then a bud gets bigger on the branch. A lady appears, a pale eye lady, surrounded by large dark circles. She has a long white face and solemn and piercing eyes. Her long pale hair is covered by a simple black cloth. She wears a pale ballooning blouse and baggy black harem pants. We dance, hands together. She feels stripy. "How do faeries dance on these thorny branches?" I ask and look at the rose branch arching in its spiny hoop. Uh-oh. My perspective is zooming in. I am tiny faery size, and dancing on the rose's dark green surface. "How do they miss these thorns?" I ask, dodging them like they were trees. Immediately I begin to spiral incredibly fast round and round the stem, climbing higher. "Get into the rhythm of the thorns," she says. "Dance fast and the buds will grow." I dance with her harder and harder, and she becomes very close and very far away in abrupt changes in perspectives. I am inside a flower, about to open. A blaze of light transforms into an old woman, a red eye woman, who peers fiercely from the heart of the flower. She wears a crown of thorns, speckled with twigs and red berries. She has sharp teeth. She says, "You like your cats and they scratch you sometimes," which is true enough. It is time to go back. "Thanks for being you," I say. I hug the crone, and she shouts after me as I sail back through the rose branch, on my way back. "You can eat my berries! and I SMELL GOOD!" I shoot down through the stem and thank the pale lady, who smiles kindly. I arrive at the center of blue-gray light and thank the rose's daughter, who is standing there. With a flick of her gown, she pushes me into the glowing blue-gray center. I fall down down into the roots. I climb down the roots hand over hand into the black earth with the other creatures of the dirt I pop up from the sod a little ways from the rose bush. I feel like a rose sprout. J's Rose First we grounded, instead of trees, we were roses. As roses, we didn't need to hold hands, our branches intertwined anyway. When the trance music started, I could dimly see the rose, but at first could get nothing from it as far as feedback. I didn't know how to get it to cooperate, so I just watched, and waited. So, it was some time, a long time? before I realized the rose wanted a great big hug from me, but because of previous experiences with roses, I couldn't bring myself to do that, the rose seemed to hold me, and all humans in contempt, because we don't hug them. I finally dug up the roots so I could get under and hug from there. She (this is the first I knew she was female) said that was OK, and she started to tell me about herself, and allowed me to get emotionally close to her. She told me her attributes were intoxicating smells, and thorns, she likes other roses as companions, also hawthorn trees, and birds, because they can navigate the thorns without getting stuck to pluck the fruit, also I got the general impression she wanted to use the birds to help with her dreams of world conquest. We closed with another hug.
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