Death rituals Pagan tradition

Hoof and Horn

We all come from the Goddess

And to her we shall return

Like a drop of rain

Flowing to the ocean

Hoof and horn hoof and horn

Those who die shall be reborn

Corn and grain corn and grain

Those who fall shall rise again

We all come from the sun god

And to him we shall return

Like a spark of fire

Flying to the open sky

Hoof and horn . . .

We all come from one

And to one we shall return

Like a ray of light

Reaching for eternity

Hoof and horn . .

When we speak of death within the old ways, within the paths of Druidry, witchcraft, and the many branches of Pagan tradition, we do not speak of an ending, but of a return. We honour a journey that is older than memory, older even than the first fire lit by human hands. We speak of the cycle that binds all living things:

The truth that all which falls shall rise again, that all which dies shall be reborn

• Branches of yew, the tree of death and immortality, may be placed nearby when someone is nearing death

• No embalming, chemicals or formaldehyde on the body

• Biodegradable coffin, or sometimes no coffin at all, simple shroud.

• The ceremonies are shaped by ancestry, by land, and by the gods and goddesses each family honours

• Ceremony often atkes place in a simple roundhouse

• The bier (wooden large wheel barrow) may be carried by six bearers through public land, accompanied by the dirge of pipes

• Some scatter flowers or coins upon a simple grave with no permanent head stone, sometimes a tree is planted in honour

• Some families scatter ashes into the wind on sacred hills, one of the closest to Bristol is the White Horse Hill in Uffington, where the land carries the spirit home

Uffington White Horse

The body returns, as it was always meant to return, to Mother Earth

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust

The soil embraces us, and in that embrace, our spirit is released. Some call upon the Celtic pantheon, others invoke the Great Mother, the presence that lives in wind and stone and wave. Some choose the solemn sound of bagpipes echoing over hillside or shore. . Always, gathering with reverence, for in standing at the threshold between worlds we are reminded of our own mortality and our own belonging.

In the Druid tradition, death is not feared. It is familiar territory. Those of us trained in witchcraft, and later drawn to Druidry, learn to walk with one foot in each world, the material and the spirit realm. We journey beyond the limits of flesh, we meet ancestors and deities in dreams, in trance, in prayer. This communion offers comfort when the time of dying draws near. It makes the transition easier.

We have been here before. We will be here again

The spirit is ever-present, woven into the universe since the first state of chaos before creation. At Samhain (31st October - 1st November, same as Halloween) we honour those who have died. On the eve of the festival, when the veil is thin, we practise divination, we listen for omens, we speak with the spirits who wander close. Ritual and song guide us. The Celtic wheel of life teaches that every descent leads to a rising, every dark season to light.

Others keep relics, bones, or skull-cups in private witchcraft traditions, seeing them as vessels for guidance and ancestral wisdom.

And always there is song. In Scotland, the old mantras and the keening songs help ease the passage from land to sea, from life to death. The Song of the Redshank speaks of the bird that settles in the west, into the vast Atlantic, mirroring the soul slipping beyond the horizon.

Fonn is a word that means song, land, and state of mind. It is the sound of belonging. It is the sound we offer the dying. For in the end, death is a return, not a loss. We come from the Goddess, and unto Her we shall return, like a drop of rain flowing to the ocean. The spirit sets out across the great waters, guided by ancestors, accompanied by gods, and held by the land that shaped our bones.

So let us honour the dead. Let us honour the living. Let us honour the endless cycle that binds us all. For all that dies shall be reborn and all that falls shall rise again.

Thank you to Chris and Westmill Woodland Burial Ground