The seed lies dormant in the soil; it lays waiting, countless years pass. Then one day it stirs. Rain falls upon the earth, seeping through the soil, through the rocks and silt, through the pebbles and clay, layer upon layer of times past, until finally this life-giving force touches the seed. Who knows why, a shift in the land, a change in the surface; the fall of a great tree whatever, the seed hears and feels the touch of the life-giving moisture. It senses the embrace, this life force, whether it could be the deep memory of water herself, the seed calls out and in its calling bursts forth from its protective shell. A root tapping down into the darkness, feeling its way for the life-giving fluid that caused it to stir in that moment in time. It sings back, “I hear you”. Its shoots crave the light as much as the roots crave the darkness. Its tentative shoots begin the journey, one of manifestation, of witness, of being. For these roots and shoots hear the call. The shoots instinctively reach for the light having lain dormant for so long in this place of darkness. The shoots break out into the open, vulnerable at first, into the vast unknown, tentatively reaching upward to the sky, the tender shoots outstretched to absorb the light. Many eons have passed since it was shed from the great forest. Lost in the mists of time one day this shoot will stand tall and strong as a forest of oneness; The Mother, the eternal Grove of the Deep and Dark and Green.
Egregore is as a wind song, which drifts above all things manifest. Sometimes a whispering breeze and other times a raging tempest. It is not defined in one path rather it inspires those who hear to find or cleave a path (tradition, religion etc) to find that way home. All traditions have part of that Song inspiring the path homewards.
The Sagh’ic tradition, whose soul, eons ago, was known as the ‘kindred of the wild dog beast’, was lost and like the seed lay dormant in the darkness. Until one day, as the waters of life seeped through the layers of time and touched the soul of a ‘lost people’, they heard the calling song. For all long-lost tribes and clans, their clan souls never die, they live on as an Egregore. Every people, tribe, clan community that ever was has a soul, a consciousness that remains even when the people are no more. The soul consciousness of a people, a tradition, a clan never dies, they just slip into the mists of time. A tradition’s Egregore will lie dormant until awakened. And yet it is not passive in its waiting, like Grandmother Ocean’s Great Song, which she sings throughout Her daughter, The Great Forest, waiting to be heard. She sang to our ancestors as they watched the forest and her animals, the sky and the stars, the turning of the seasons and the wolves that surrounded them.
The ancestors saw the community and family of the forest and all its beings and watched and learned. Their song taught them the safety and containment of family; and thus the forest, its inhabitants and their song, are our teachers now too.
“I know that only as a singer I come into your presence. Drunk with the joy of singing, I forget myself, and call you beloved friend.” Rabindranath Tagore
The Language
The sacred and traditional names, the language of the tribe, which you may encounter in a few places on this site, usually only meant to be spoken, is a language of sound and song evoking primal intuitive imagery and is ancient in its roots. The language includes sounds and words that appear Eurasian, Celtic and Gaelic, perhaps alluding to the journey of the tribe across the planet through time. The language finds incredible resonance in the still-surviving languages of the Indian subcontinent. The language, though lost, is a song on the wind of breath, that conjures the emotions of actions; it is foremost a language of the heart. For it is the song in our hearts that impassions the work of our hands in service to each other.
The Song of Creation
At the heart of the tradition is the Great Song of Grandmother Ocean that permeates the whole of creation. This Song reached into the darkness of the void and called the Lightning, and at the moment of creation and birth of all things, that Lightning, that First Fire’s song of love became the forge/hearth which is within the hearts of all things. It is the Song of the Lightning and the Ocean that brought the Stars and Earth into being through it’s singing, and through the same song, the stars fell to earth to become our first ancestors of The Great Forest.
It might be said that this Great Song, Mora oe Croan, is breath of Egregore.
In each of us is the Song, it is our breath and soul; it enters the river of our blood and this blood brings us to dance our lives and destiny. Through this singing, all are our ancestors – from the primal ocean to our parents, those of our bloodlines, those of our milk lines (all who have shared wisdom), and all of our shadow lines (all our past existences). In the dance of the Wheel of Seasons, ancestors and descendants chase each other through the cosmic journey. That dance is manifested in our rituals, ceremonies, gatherings, dances and songs.
The Great Forest is all there is in the eye of the Creator. The Great Forest is both the song and the daughter of the Primal Ocean. There is no ‘without it ‘or ‘beyond it.’ We humans have forgotten our place in the forest in harmony with all living things, and our own song. When the two-leggeds fell into the great sleep and dreamed their walk away and out of The Great Forest, they became so addicted to the dream that they forgot the paths that led home. The Great deep dark green Forest sings The Song, trusting that amongst all her lost and sleeping children, some will hear.
Some do and always will hear, prophets, seers, poets, dreamers, and at times the song is so close, so strong, it itself will take form to reach out to the forgetful, as teachers and guides; The Song, The Egregore fills and reaches for hearts and souls, inspiring all creation to unite.
Through these pages you will find the words of other great teachers and people who heard and enraptured by that Song, embodied that most intimate relationship with Spirit. The art you see are sacred drawings expressing John-Luke’s deep connection to the Ancestors, shared with us all.
“In my songs, I have voiced Your spring flowers and given rhythm to Your rustling leaves. I have sung into the hush of Your night and the peace of Your morning, The thrill of the first summer rains has passed into my tunes and the waving of the autumn harvest; Let not my song cease”. Rabindranath Tagore
Sagh'ic Tire Dhream, UK & Europe 