charisstoma

Herne, God of the Wild Hunt
Cernunnos, the Horned God

Herne has his origins in a local folktale, and there is virtually no information available to us via primary sources. Although he is sometimes seen as an aspect of Cernunnos, the Horned God, the Berkshire region of England is the home to story behind the legend.


In Margaret Murray's 1931 book, God of the Witches, she posits that Herne is a manifestation of Cernunnos, the Celtic horned god. Because he is found only in Berkshire, and not in the rest of the Windsor Forest area, Herne is considered a "localized" god, and could indeed be the Berkshire interpretation of Cernunnos.

The Windsor Forest area has a heavy Saxon influence. One of the gods honored by the original settlers of the region was Odin, who also hung at one point from a tree. Odin was also known for riding through the sky on a Wild Hunt of his own.

Lord of the Forest
Around Berkshire, Herne is depicted wearing the antlers of a great stag. He is the god of the wild hunt, of the game in the forest. Herne's antlers connect him to the deer, which was given a position of great honor. After all, killing a single stag could mean the difference between survival and starvation, so this was a powerful thing indeed.


Herne was considered a divine hunter, and was seen on his wild hunts carrying a great horn and a wooden bow, riding a mighty black horse and accompanied by a pack of baying hounds. Mortals who get in the way of the Wild Hunt are swept up in it, and often taken away by Herne, destined to ride with him for eternity. He's seen as a harbinger of bad omen, especially to the royal family. According to local legend, Herne only appears in Windsor Forest when needed, such as in times of national crisis.

Herne Today
In the modern era, Herne is often honored side by side with Cernunnos and other horned gods. Despite his somewhat questionable origins as a ghost story blended with Saxon influence, there are still many Pagans who celebrate him today. Jason Mankey of Patheos writes,

"Herne was first used in Modern Pagan Ritual back in 1957, and was referred to as a sun-god listed alongside Lugh, (King) Arthur, and the Arch-Angel Michael (a strange hodgepodge of deities and entities to say the least). He shows up again in Gerald Gardner’s The Meaning of Witchcraft published in 1959 where he is called a “British example par excellence of a surviving tradition of the Old God of the Witches.”
If you'd like to honor Herne in your rituals, you can call upon him as a god of the hunt and of the forest; given his background, you might even want to work with him in cases where you need to right a wrong. Present him with offerings like a glass of cider, whiskey, or home brewed mead, or a dish prepared from meat you hunted yourself if possible. Burn incense that includes dried fall leaves as a way of creating sacred smoke to send your messages to him.

Wigington, Patti. "Herne, God of the Wild Hunt." Learn Religions, Feb. 8, 2021, learnreligions.com/herne-god-of-the-wild-hunt-2561965.

Why we are born and why do we die



Title: The Family Tree
Mythology
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 458

Wrapped in sorrow, Charlie sat at his grandfather’s bedside waiting.

A rusty rattle of words came from the hospital bed, “Don’t you mourn me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Granddad, have you made your peace with God yet? Please do it. We can pray together, you and I,” Charlie pleaded.

“Charlie, Charlie. Stop fussing. God and I are like this,” the age darkened hand rose, the middle finger laboriously crossing over the pointer. “The tree sheds its leaves in the fall. This is just my fall into winter.” His voice rattled. “Spring will come again for me and my leaves will grow flush with new life.”( Read more... )

2. Why leaves change color?


Title: A Tale not Told
Mythology
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 302

Long ago, it is said, trees used to walk the earth. No one knew why, just that they did. Sometimes they still do.

Acer could have told them but he was held to the oath all trees take as saplings; never to reveal that they can walk, or talk for that matter at least not in human speech. Still he remembers what it was like to dance in the moonlight; to do more than dance, to fuck in the moonlight. That knowledge comes down through the generations, born into each and every tree.

So he remembers the time when a human caught two maples cavorting drunkenly from having imbibed the other’s sweet sap, of how the human joined in and sipped from the hollow knotholes that the drunken ones had used and used those same knotholes for his own rutting.

He remembered, as did those trees and the human did too, making up some tale of spirits beings in the trees. A tale changed through the years of a god pursuing a nymph until she turned herself into a tree to escape him.

Acer could tell that to this day all maple trees remember and their leaves blush crimson, knowing that the humans have a way to record images now and admire the effects of their shame until the trees in desperation drop those same leaves to stand naked and stark but less noticeable in the landscape.

All the trees do this to some degree, for the shame is there for all … except the conifers who have no shame to speak of.

Acer could tell but he doesn’t but he and his kin speak, just not in human word, when the wind rushes through their limbs and sometimes when there are none to notice they still dance in that same wind.