god is the space between us

Please. Meru. I'm begging you on my hands and knees.

Show me the one who wants to become my beloved wife.

Here's a quick doodle

Doesn't have a name at the moment (I feel like we've already established that I suck at finding names) but basically, he's a dragon hybrid who's one of the very few remaining. Because of that he's not really familiar neither with his own kind nor humans.

When you first find him he gets scared and hides away but with time you manage to get him to warm up to you and he proceeds to get super clingy. He wants to be your wife and wants you to impregnate him even though it's biologically impossible, "We can find a solution with the power of love!" he says.

He cries when you leave him alone to go to school or work and tries to sneak into your room to feel less lonely, so you end up having to gift him your pillows and bedsheet so he can smell those and feel calmer. He also then brings those to his humble cave to build a nest for you two.

TW: a bit of g0 re under the cut

Nah, fuck that, CRICKET BAT 🏏 🏏🏏🏏*SMACK*

🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏*SMACK*🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏*SMACK*🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏*SMACK*🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏*SMACK*🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏*SMACK*🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏🏏

The reason was that, if you get pantsed, and you weren't in on the joke / it wasn't planned, that's a massive breakdown in respect and discipline, and you have to make an example of that kid (generally by wrestling them, and in serious cases, taking away candy privileges). But getting pranked is still a bad look, and makes it seem cool to rebel against your authority.

However, if you get pantsed, and you are in on the joke, everyone has a good laugh, including you, and no one was actually rebelling. It both makes you look like a cool authority figure and makes the person doing it look like they're the sort of person in cahoots with counselors. Then, if there's a behavioral issue, you can have that quiet conversation later, away from an audience.

And since those underwear are so culturally specific as punchlines in a pantsing gag that the only plausible reason to be wearing them is if you're in on a slapstick act, you can retroactively Shanghai any would-be prankster into looking like they did it with your consent and planning, which not only keeps you from indignity, it makes sure that they're rewarded by laughter and attention for looking like they're cooperating with the staff, encouraging that in the future and bringing them in from the outside of the social-reward structure you're trying to set up, where it's cool too be wacky but responsible.

That preparation effort paid off maybe four times across three years, but it was completely worth it.

The concept of twin flames has captivated the hearts and minds of many who are drawn to the idea of finding their perfect mirror soul. The connection between twin flames is often described as intense, transformative, and sometimes tumultuous. But a question that often arises is whether a twin flame finds enjoyment in seeing their counterpart experience pain. The Nature of Twin Flames Twin…

Nodyn atgoffa ysgafn i bawb sydd angen defnyddio pantri bwyd, cymorth gan y llywodraeth, rhyddhad rhent, a/neu gymorth anabledd.

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Terre Sainte / Holy Land - 2018 (extrait de la série Images de la Bible)

* * * * 

I’ve heard some people describe liminality in the language of Celtic spirituality: a thin place, a narrow place, a place where the living and the dead commune, where heaven and earth all regard each other. Hell too, I hope. Otherwise what’s the point? “Narrow” in Irish is caol, meaning narrow, slender, subtle, or tenuous. In Irish, to speak of the “narrowness of the hand” means the wrist, or the “narrowness of the leg” the ankle. It is a place of mobility or action, a place easily twisted and when twisted, it hurts. Lots of us live in this narrow place, easily open to twisting. Our past and our future each have a hold of us in the present and we wonder how we shall manage. How do any of us survive this fragile place? Liminality, if it means anything, must be as truthful as forgiving, as confessing, as breathing, as surviving.

© 2019 The Lutterworth Press SAMPLE The Place Between

— Pádraig Ó Tuama

The ancient Celts were deeply spiritual people whose religion was inseparable form their daily lives, the natural world, and their understanding of the cosmos. Unlike the centralized religions of Rome or Greece, Celtic religion was a diverse, localized system of beliefs and rituals, rooted in oral tradition and closely tied to the landscapes they inhabited.

Nature and the Sacred

For the Celts, nature was alive with spirit and power. Rivers, forests, mountains, springs, and even specific trees were believed to be sacred, inhabited by deities or spirits. Certain animals—such as the stag, boar, raven, and horse—were revered as messengers or manifestations of the divine.

The Celts did not build large temples in thr early period; instead, they worshipped in sacred groves, hilltops, lakes, and springs. Offerings of weapons, jewelry, and even human or animal sacrifices were left in these natural sanctuaries to honor the gods and ensure the well-being of the tribe.

Polytheism and the Celtic Pantheon

Celtic religion was polytheistic, honoring many gods and goddesses, often with local or regional variations. While their names and attributes differed from tribe to tribe, some common deities appear throughout the Celtic world:

Lugh — a god of skill, crafts, war, and leadership, often associated with the sun.

Brigid — a goddess of poetry, healing, and smithcraft, later incorporated into Christian tradition as Saint Brigid.

Dagda — a fatherly god of abundance, fertility, and wisdom, known as the "Good God."

Morrígan — a complex goddess of war, fate, and sovereignty, sometimes appearing as three sisters.

Epona — a goddess of horses, fertility, and travel, worshipped even by Roman soldiers.

Celtic gods were not distant, abstract figures—they were woven into the rhythms of daily life, the land, and the cycles of the seasons.

The Role of the Druids

Druids were the spiritual and intellectual elite of Celtic society. They served as priests, judges, healers, teachers, and keepers of oral tradition. Druids conducted rituals, interpreted omens, and advised chieftains. They also maintained sacred knowledge, including astronomy, law, genealogy, and the cycles of nature.

The Druids left no written records of their beliefs, preferring oral transmission. Much of what we know comes from Roman writers like Julius Caesar, who often viewed the Druids through a biased lens.

Rituals, Festivals, and the Afterlife

Celtic rituals often involved offerings and sacrifices—sometimes animals, occasionally humans—to appease or honor the gods. They also marked the turning points of the year with seasonal festivals that celebrated life, death, and renewal:

Samhain (October/November) — the Celtic New Year, when the veil between the worlds was thin.

Imbolc (February) — a festival of purification and the first stirring of spring, associated with Brigid.

Beltane (May) — a fertility festival celebrating the beginning of summer.

Lughnasadh (August) — a harvest festival honoring Lugh and the bounty of the land.

The Celts strongly believed in an afterlife. Death was not the end but a transition. Souls were thought to travel to the Otherworld, a realm of beauty, abundance, and eternal youth. Burial practices included grave goods—such as weapons, jewelry, or food—to accompany the deceased into the next life.

Roman Influence and Transformation

When the Roman Empire expanded into Celtic lands, many Celtic deities were merged with Roman ones, and some rituals adapted to new cultural influences. Over time, Christianity replaced the old religion, but traces of Celtic beliefs survived in folklore, seasonal festivals, and local traditions.

Legacy of Ancient Celtic Religion

Celtic Reconstructionism (CR) is a polytheistic, animistic religious movement grounded in pre-Christian Celtic sources. If this is your first time here, start with the basics and then the history.

For readers coming from Wicca or eclectic neo-paganism, the structural differences are significant. CR is working from a different theology, not just a different set of deity names.

Polytheism: The Gods Are Real and Distinct

Where much of Wicca and eclectic neo-paganism works within a soft polytheist framework (“all gods are one god” and “all goddesses are one goddess”), CR holds that the gods are genuinely distinct.1

CR is a form of hard polytheism, specifically grounded in the polytheist traditions of the Celtic nations (Brittany, Cornwall, Ireland, the Isle of Man, Scotland, and Wales). The gods are individual beings with distinct personalities, histories, and domains, not aspects of a universal deity or archetypes of the collective unconscious.

The Jungian framing popular in some pagan circles (gods as psychological archetypes, projections of the collective unconscious rather than external beings) is also not a CR position. The exact metaphysical nature of that existence isn’t dogmatically defined; the movement doesn’t require practitioners to hold identical positions on what, precisely, a deity is. What it does require is engaging with them as distinct individuals rather than as symbols.

CR is also animist. The land, rivers, trees, and other natural features have spiritual presence. Specific hills, rivers, and wells are named in the Irish sources as home to specific spirits or deities: the Boyne to Bóann, the Shannon to Sionann. Scholar Marie-Louise Sjoestedt, writing in Celtic Gods and Heroes, observed that the Irish medieval mythographers described the ancient gods as prehistoric tribes who “still dwell there invisibly present, side by side with the human inhabitants.”2

The Maiden/Mother/Crone Problem

If you’ve spent time in any pagan space, you’ve encountered the triple goddess: Maiden, Mother, Crone. It’s ubiquitous in contemporary paganism.

The framework comes from Robert Graves’s The White Goddess, published in 1948. Graves was a poet and mythographer, not a scholar of Celtic religion. The Maiden/Mother/Crone model imposes a specific meaning (female divine power organized around reproductive lifecycle stages) that the Irish and other Celtic sources don’t support.

Celtic goddesses do appear in triple form, but these are functional groupings, not age-based progressions. Brigit appears in the sources as three sisters: one of poetry, one of healing, one of smithcraft. Sjoestedt says the triple Brigit is “adored by poets, smiths and leeches,” three domains of skill, not three life stages. The Morrígan similarly appears as a triple figure whose aspects relate to battle, fate, and sovereignty. Sjoestedt identifies the trio as the Badb, the Morrígan, and Nemain (or Macha, depending on the source), figures differentiated by how they manifest on the battlefield and in relation to fate, not by age or fertility status.2

Graves’s model ties female divine power to the reproductive cycle in a way the actual sources don’t. A goddess in Irish tradition is categorized by what she does and where she holds power: her domain and function, not her age or life stage.

Three Realms: Land, Sea, and Sky

CR’s cosmology, its understanding of how the universe is structured, is built around three realms, not the four elements or four directions familiar from other pagan traditions.

In Old Irish:

Nem: sky (niv) Talam: land (TAH-lum) Muir: sea (mwir)

Swearing by sky, land, and sea was a standard way of invoking the whole of existence, the complete structure of the world, not three symbolic categories. Erynn Rowan Laurie describes this directly in A Circle of Stones: “It is upon this division, rather than the traditional western four elements of earth, air, fire and water, that the ancient Celts based their concept of the universe. Oaths were sworn by land, sea and sky. All things lived within the circle.”3

The four-element, four-direction ritual framework in Western neopaganism descends from ceremonial magic, specifically the Hermetic tradition as transmitted through the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn in the late nineteenth century.

Connecting the three realms, in Laurie’s framework, is fire. Specifically imbas (IM-us), the fire of poetic inspiration. Fire is the presence of the gods and the link between humanity and the divine.3 The imbas tradition in Irish mythology names a specific form of inspired vision sought by poets and seers. It involves altered states and deliberate withdrawal from the mundane world, and it gives the cosmological concept direct ritual application.

The three realms give CR practitioners a working map of who they are in relationship with: the gods, the spirits of the land (including the Aos Sí), and the ancestors. These aren’t rigid categories. A deity like Manannán straddles sea and Otherworld; the Tuatha Dé Danann, after their retreat into the sídhe, became the spirits of the land they once ruled. The realms orient the practitioner, not constrain the beings.

The three-part structure operates alongside a second, fivefold layer of sacred geography. Ireland was traditionally divided into five provinces (Connacht, Ulster, Leinster, Munster, and Meath at the centre), each carrying not just a directional orientation but a conceptual quality: learning in the west, battle in the north, prosperity in the east, music in the south, and kingship at the centre.4 Archaeologist J. P. Mallory describes this system as a “cultural cosmology, a way of partitioning the world” rather than a straightforward political map. The provincial capitals (Rathcroghan, Navan Fort, Knockaulin, Cashel, Tara) functioned as ceremonial centres whose Iron Age origins predate the medieval literary accounts by centuries.4 The three realms and the five provinces aren’t competing frameworks; one structures the cosmos vertically, the other structures the land horizontally, with Tara at the sacred centre.

The Otherworld

The Irish Otherworld, An Saol Eile (“the other world/life”), is not an afterlife in the Christian sense. It’s a parallel realm that coexists with the mortal world, accessible at certain places and times. It appears under multiple names in the sources: Tír na nÓg (Land of the Young), Mag Mell (Plain of Delight), Tech Duinn (the House of Donn, where the dead gather), Tír fo Thuinn (Land Under the Sea). These aren’t synonyms for a single unified realm; they name different regions of an unseen geography.3

The Otherworld coexists with the mortal world, accessible at certain thresholds rather than located at a remove from it. Access points to these other realms include the sídhe mounds, caves, lakes, and the western sea. Liminal times, especially Samhain and Bealtaine, thin the boundary between worlds.

In the Lebor Gabála Érenn (Book of Invasions), the Tuatha Dé Danann don’t leave Ireland after their defeat by the Milesians. They withdraw into it, retreating into the sídhe mounds, the hills, and the rivers. This is why the Aos Sí (the fairy folk) and the gods are related concepts in Irish tradition: the gods became the spirits of the land. Sjoestedt describes the Irish mythographers presenting the ancient gods as beings who still dwell invisibly present beside the human inhabitants.3

The relationship between the dead and the Otherworld is complex in the sources, and CR doesn’t flatten it. Irish cosmology offers no single unified afterlife, and CR doesn’t impose one.

Ritual Structure: What CR Practice Actually Looks Like

Circle-casting and quarter-calling framework comes from late nineteenth-century ceremonial magic, specifically the Golden Dawn tradition, and was absorbed into Wicca through Gerald Gardner’s development of that religion in the 1940s and 1950s.

CR ritual centers on prayer, offering, and hospitality. Daily devotional practice is weighted more heavily than periodic elaborate ritual. In practice, this usually means a home altar: a cloth, a candle, images or symbols of the deity or ancestors being honored, a bowl for offerings, kept and tended regularly.

Offerings are simple: milk, ale, mead, hazelnuts, wine, apples, oats, butter, pork. All are well-attested in the mythology and folklore as preferred by gods and spirits.3 Nothing needs to be sourced from a specialty shop. Regular, modest practice carries more weight than an elaborate occasional ritual that rarely happens.

Reciprocity is the underlying concept. Offerings are expressions of ongoing relationship, not transactions. Flaithiúlacht (FLAH-hyoo-lacht), meaning hospitality, is both a social virtue and a ritual one in Irish tradition. Laurie puts it plainly: “In the Celtic world, hospitality is a sacred duty.”3

Ethics: Where CR Draws Its Moral Framework

CR ethics come from Celtic primary sources, not the Wiccan Rede. The primary texts for Irish CR are the Triads of Ireland (Tríada Éireann), a medieval collection of wisdom sayings covering kingship, personal conduct, and social obligation; the Instructions of Cormac Mac Airt (Tecosca Cormaic), advice attributed to the legendary king on truth-telling and right behavior; and Brehon law (Fénechas, “law of the freemen”), the pre-Norman Irish legal system, restorative rather than punitive and focused on compensation and the repair of social harm.5

Three concepts from these sources appear throughout CR practice:

Fír (feer): truth, meaning not simply honesty but alignment between words and reality at a structural level. Oath-breaking and false witness were among the most serious violations in Irish tradition. The concept runs through law, mythology, and the ethics of kingship: a king who spoke falsehood was believed to cause physical harm to the land itself.

Enech (EN-akh): literally “face,” meaning honor or social standing. Your enech is your reputation as maintained through right action, damaged by lying, cowardice, or failure to meet your obligations. The related legal concept, lóg n-enech (logue n-EN-akh), is the “honor price,” a person’s assessed social value under Brehon law, which determined the scale of compensation owed when they were wronged. In early Irish law, enech and “face” were the same word; to shame someone was to make them red in the face, synonymous with an offense against their honor.6

Flaithiúlacht: hospitality, introduced above as a ritual virtue and equally an ethical obligation. The CR FAQ describes CR ethics as a “virtue theoretic ethical system,” meaning positive guidelines for behavior rather than a list of prohibitions.1 Hospitality is one of those positive obligations.

All three concepts are embedded in a specific historical and cultural context, developed within a society that treated the social and spiritual worlds as continuous with each other. A CR practitioner engaging with them is engaging with a real historical ethical system.

Related Reading

CR sits inside a wider ecosystem of Celtic tradition. These pieces offer practical entry points into the Irish practices and folk beliefs that surround the theology:

The Evil Eye in Irish Folklore: how folk belief in the evil eye operated alongside formal religion, and the folk cures that responded to it.

Bealtaine: Irish May Day Traditions: one of the liminal thresholds named above, with the seasonal observances that grew around it.

St. Brigid’s Day Crosses: the continuity between Brigit as pre-Christian goddess and Brigid as saint, expressed through a surviving folk practice.

How to Read Ogham Divination: the Irish tree alphabet as a ritual and divinatory system that fits the CR framework.

Irish New Year Folk Magic: Lá Coille: seasonal folk observance drawn from Irish sources.

The New Moon in Irish Folklore: how lunar observances entered Irish folk practice.

The next article in this series will cover the gods themselves: who the Tuatha Dé Danann are, what the sources actually say about them, and how CR practitioners relate to specific deities today.

CR FAQ ↩︎ ↩︎

Celtic Gods and Heroes by Marie-Louise Sjoestedt ↩︎ ↩︎

A Circle of Stones: Journeys and Meditations for Modern Celts by Erynn Rowan Laurie ↩︎ ↩︎ ↩︎ ↩︎ ↩︎ ↩︎

The Origins of the Irish by J. P. Mallory ↩︎ ↩︎

Wikipedia: Early Irish Law ↩︎