Frohlichen Krampusnacht!!

Tuesday the 6^th December is the Feast of Saint Nicholas. He was a Christian Saint and a Greek Bishop of Myra. He was known as Nikolaos the Wonderworker, and has since been used as the model for our modern-day Father Christmas, Old St Nick, Santa Clause. He has many names, he is also known as the Holly King, the Green Man, The Shaman, and even Odin. He rewards the good and well-behaved children of Christendom with gifts and trinkets and sweet delights on Christ’s Mass Eve.

But did you know, like all of us, he has a shadow? He, like me and thee, has a shadow self too. What would Jolly Ole Father Christmas’s shadow look like? What could possibly be a contrasting image of Santa?

Are you sitting comfortably? Are the lights on nice and bright? Are your loved ones near? Then I shall tell you.

He has no shiny, buckled, black boots that tread through the snow, but cloven hooves that clip and clop. No red coat dons this man, but a tangled mass of dark fur. He does not wear a red hat, (and if he did, it would probably be the foulest blood red) instead, two great goat horns curl and twist. Does he say “Ho, Ho, Ho?” Oh no, no, no, he couldn’t possibly, not with those fangs and that long, long red tongue. What about a sack full of toys? I hear you ask, he carries a sack, or sometimes a basket, over his shoulder, but it doesn’t contain toys, only children. He holds, not the reigns of a beautiful sleigh, but chains that attach him to the devil.

On the 5^th December, the part goat, part demon Krampus punishes the naughty children, whipping them with his ruten branches. Or gifting coal instead of toys, ruten bundles instead of sweet nectarines. 

On the eve of The Feast of Saint Nicholas he gifts an early Christmas present to those who have been exceptionally good. But, God help ye merry children if you have been very, very bad. If you have been wicked, then he will take you away leaving a log of wood in your image behind while you are taken to his lair. Maybe he will make you work for him or maybe he will devour you. Or maybe he will drown you the fiery pits of hell.

For me, the Krampus represents the naughty side of this season, Christmas in all it's gory glory. It is the time that the birth of the Holy Sun of God is born, in many ancient paths, not just Christian. And as wholesome and holy as this season is, there is a sombre side to this season too. There is loneliness and bitter sweet memories, there is greed and over indulgence. There is consumerism and debt, there is chocolate, alcohol and burning loins. Families argue and fight, office parties end in shame and guilt, and the streets are littered with drunks wearing sexy Santa outfits.

As advent begins, Saint Nick sits on one shoulder, and Krampus sits on the other, whispering sweet nothings in our ears. I have a soft spot for the Krampus, he has been commercialised into a jolly and slightly satanic Christmas figure, and there is a growing number within the anti-Christmas community, who use the 'bar humbugginess' of Krampusnacht to celebrate something less-than-Holy.

Last year I accidentally celebrated Krampusnacht with my son. He was ill during the last week of November and as he was feeling better and as he had been exceptionally good all week, we decided to gift him an early Christmas present on the night of the 5th December. Later that night I found out it was Krampusnacht.

So, to all my kith and kin, have a cheeky chocolate, or a snifter of rum, watch an X-rated movie or simply snuggle up with your Shnookums or your Snugglybum.

Like everything in life, it’s about balance and moderation, holding the two polarities of life in balance in each hand, so you can be the stillness in the centre.

Be both the bright and the dark, the light and the shadow, the oak and the holly, Santa and Krampus.

Merry Krampusnacht 

The Bearded Shaman

My Home Town

There used to be a few esoteric shops in Reading, witchy and crystal clad. There used to be a few holistic festivals too, but they are almost all gone, apart from a few, Stardust is a good one.

Reading’s spirituality has gone. It’s like Reading has experienced soul loss. Is its chakra has been blocked? Maybe its ley lines have been crossed? Or maybe its aura has been shattered, I don’t know what has happened, but it has.

Fortunately, something has shifted, people are coming of the wood work, psychics, healers, reiki masters, shaman, artist, visionaries. The Winter Giant visited Reading last Christmas. Something magical happened, just for a while, we stepped into the mythic. A tale of welcoming with open arms and an open heart, a story of compassion and giving and love. It was beautiful.

 Winter Giant

Reading prison is now closed. It is, unfortunately, famous for holding Oscar Wilde. He imprisoned for being gay, so I am glad its closed for that very reason. But now, in his honour, it's open to the public as an art house. More interestingly, I have recently discovered that we have a hidden, lost King.

I went for a walk with my son today in Reading’s town hall museum, and found out that there is a lottery funded team, searching for the lost King.

Henry I

Reading Abbey was one of the wealthiest monastic houses in England, and one of northern Europe’s most prestigious religious centres. It was founded by Henry I, who was the son of William the Conqueror, in 1121. It later became his resting place in 1135. After his death in Normandy, his body was brought to Reading Abbey, sewn into a bull’s hide. He was laid to rest in 1136 somewhere in the grounds, and to this day, he still lays there. 

During the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII, the Abbey was destroyed, leaving only a few remains. There is no record of where Henry I and his wife, Queen Adeliza are buried, only that it was in Reading Abbey, beneath a great altar.

Reading Abbey and its surrounding areas was once Readings spiritual hub, its connection to Spirit. As I watched my son run around the Forbury Gardens, it dawned on me that it still can be, a new alternative, esoteric, all inclusive, multi-faithed spirituality, we’ve just forgotten about it. 

I truly feel that we can rekindle the spiritual fire of Readings heart.

Readings Chalice, womb of our Mother Earth, Font of Forbury Gardens. Kai and I placed flowers in the water as an offering to her.

We have a stone circle, filled with water and life and all sorts, standing beautifully is a statue of shells, symbol of the Divine Feminine.

We have a mountain, Forbury Hill, we have a huge stone cross sat erect and proud, facing the entrance to the Abbey ruins, a powerful symbol of the Divine Masculine.

We have a grotto, a womb tomb, flanked by the two holy thighs of our Mother.

We even have a fairy tree, mulberry I think. An ancient and twisted and beautiful tree, a temple of nature and the nature spirits. I offered a ribbon to the branches.

The garden is guarded by a great lion, Ottorongol, Hatun Puma, Chocchinchay, the Golden Jaguar. He is a protective entity; The Lion of Reading.

When our lost King is found, I believe that a new emergence of spirituality in Reading will arise. This is my prophecy.

Reading Abbey

We already have Reading Festival, an Abbey, and now a lost King just like our King Arthur, lets create a Glastonburyesc city, a haven of spiritual freedom. Apologies to Reading Borough Council if the Forbury Gardens are over run with hippies and the trees covered in ribbons and fairy offerings, there are there, hiding, one day they will return, I’m sure of it, just like our lost King.