Journey to the Queen of the Fairies

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A long-time Canadian friend is a shamanic practitioner. She lives with her husband in a tiny house way up the valley of the Ottawa and therefore uses zoom to expand her reach to interested folks. She is learned in the Irish Celtic traditions. The mythology of Ancient Ireland is foreign to me, but she is deep into the stories and characters, which are, about as far away from the European schoolroom- familiar Classical tradition as you can be. 

The Irish origin story was long thought to be little but another product of the famed Irish imagination. That is, until recently. DNA studies have suggested that the traditional tale of an epic journey to a far off island by a tribe of cattle herders is a true one. 

These cattle loving, builders of stone monuments arrived during the Neolithic. Later, the Romans were unable to colonize Ireland--they had enough on their hands with the British, Scots and Welsh!  After the Romans, the earliest Christian monks were sufficiently open-minded to commit some of this ancient oral tradition to manuscript, which is why we have some of these stories today. 

These tell of gods, goddesses, heroes and queens plus a truly outstanding array of monsters and supernatural beings. They have come down to us in a way that the gods of the various ancient Britannic people have not. Much of the Irish story is certainly lost and much is probably garbled by the monkish recorders, but it is fascinating to me how long what is basically a tribal history can be remembered, if it is not intentionally erased by some colonizing power.  

 

My friend is an expert hand drummer. She also teaches yoga and conducts trance journey sessions, one of which I attended on the night of the Summer Solstice. This is a liminal time, like the other moments of transition from one season to another. 

Long ago, these seasonal changes were marked by observations of the "circling sky," --the rising of certain stars, the moon's path and that of the sun--were of crucial importance, first to hunter/gatherers who followed animal, fish, and bird migrations. When agriculturalists came on the scene, they used the same observations for planting and harvests.

It was wonderful to feel that I was about to be part of a timeless ceremony. Although this one happened to be conducted via the internet, it felt authentic. Needs must! And the only thing that has really changed is human technology, for the human emotional brain remains the same. I was simply grateful to be able to join in.

Effective drumming, (like chanting or ritual dance), puts the listener into a non-ordinary state of mind. You enter a space where imagination leads the way. Learning and expectations naturally play a part, for everyone present had their own unique image of "fairies" and how the Queen of this Wild Court might show herself that night. 

We shared afterward, although this was not required. (Nothing is "required" of participants except participation--focus on the drum, and be present.)  When the drum went quiet, we shared. Everyone, it seemed, had gone by a different path to a very different place. Some of us saw "our" Queen of the Fairies; others got lost on the path. 

When we closed our spritual doors and went our separate ways, I walked outside, to watch the sun's setting. This meant, however, that I was facing east. There to greet me, through a hole in the neighbor's prosaic, overgrown arborvitae hedge, was the full moon, magnified because she was still very low on the horizon. 

I live in a tourist town and there is always noise, lots of traffic, street racers, trucks, lawn mowing and general two stroke engine racket. On this night, there was only a miraculous silence, a kind of ambient hum behind. Only the birds were speaking, twittering, as they settled down in twilight. Bumblebees still dangled from milkweed in my garden. To the west, the sun showed a final full disc of molten gold. Under the old apple tree, four bunnies played, jumping over one another surrounded by clouds of fireflies, sparkling as they floated up on every side.

~~Juliet Waldron 

   

The Irish Are Everywhere

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Happy St. Patrick's Day, readers!

My heroine Ursula of Mercies of the Fallen and Ursula's Inheritance found her Irish born champion in Rowan Buckley, an Irish transplant to Canada during An Gorta Mor, (The Great Hunger 1845-1850.)

Rowan was a member of an Irish diaspora (Diaspóra na nGael), which describes people like me, and I suspect many of you-- ethnic Irish descendants who live outside the island of the saints and sinners. There are over 100 million of us...more than fifteen times the population of Ireland itself!

Did you know:

* It has been suggested that St. Brendan visited Bermuda on one of his legendary voyages. The beautiful Bermudiana is a flower that grows only there...and around Lough Erne and Lough Melvin in County Fermanagh, and is known as Feilistrín gorm, or Blue-eyed grass.

*  On the Bridge of Tears (Droichead na nDeor) in West Donegal, Ireland, family and friends of emigrants would accompany them as far as the bridge before saying goodbye, while the emigrants would continue on...

* Many of the Wild Geese (expatriate Irish soldiers of the 16th, 17th and 18th century) who had gone to Spain and their descendants continued on to its colonies in South America. Many rose to positions in the Spanish governments there. In the 1820s, some helped liberate the continent. Bernardo O'Higgins was the first Supreme director of Chile. When Chilean troops occupied Lima during the War of the Pacific in 1881, they put in charge Patricio Lynch, whose grandfather came from Ireland to Argentina and then moved to Chile. Other Latin American countries that have Irish settlement include Puerto Rico and Colombia.

St. Patrick's Day Parade - Janet Lane Walters 3BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #St. Patrick #Parade

 

St. Patrick’s Day On Hold

 

 

Though today is St. Patrick’s Day there will be no parade in NY City or in the town not far from my house. Though I’ve never gone to the one in the city, I understand it’s quite the affair. The one in the town near where I live is also a fun time. I usually don’t go because it’s too cold but I love watching the pictures in the paper and ones friends have taken. I have a trace of Irish in me but not on the green side. Doesn’t stop me from feeling a bit of festivity on that day. Just heard from my daughter that the parade in Savannah has also been cancelled.

 

I think of the stories I’ve been told about the country and of how my great-great came to this country and lived in a town called Fall River, Mass. I also had a chance to visit Ireland and spent a few hours in the town where she was born. A rugged hilly area and a small town tucked among the hills in northern Ireland. The greens of the countryside were stunning and the people friendly though at times I had trouble understanding them. Mr friend had a harder time with the language. I still have pictures from that long ago visit.

 

One of those pictures brings back memories of the collie and how the shephers showed us how the god herded sheep. What a fascinating thing to watch. No voice commands, only hand and body signals were given.

 

I also remember the rapid tour we took with my friend’s mother seeing so many sights and so much green. The Giant’s Causeway was a magnificent sight and the bus ride on the steep road quite a thrill. So this year, I’ll celebrate by looking at some of those pictures my friend and I took without the parade.

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Characters Speak For Themselves by Eileen O'Finlan

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I just completed my first blog tour. What an experience! Thirteen bloggers over ten days featured Kelegeen with either a spotlight, excerpt, review, guest post, author interview, or what turned out to be my favorite, a character guest post. That's right - twice a character from Kelegeen got the chance to step out of the book and speak their own minds. I had never written a character blog post before, but now that I know how much fun it is, I will be doing many more of them.

My first thought was to let Meg and Father O'Malley "write" the two character guest posts since they are the point of view characters in the novel. I quickly rejected that idea because, well, they are the point of view characters. They've been telling the story, so to speak, throughout the whole book. Why not give two other characters a chance?

My choices? Meg's mother, Deirdre O'Connor and Siobhan O'Toole, Father O'Malley's first love from long before he became a priest. Deirdre, being the wonderful mom that she is, took the opportunity to write about her family, giving a mother's glimpse into each of her kids.

Siobhan is a different character all together. Here is what she had to say:

My name is Siobhan O'Toole and I've been asked to regale you with tales of my part in the story of Kelegeen. You'll not believe it, but I've never stepped foot in the town of Kelegeen. As it happens, I'm not even alive when the story takes place, but that doesn't stop me from having a role in it. You see, I was in love, long before that story began, with a man named Brian O'Malley. In Kelegeen you'll know him as Father O'Malley, but his priestly vocation came after I died. Oh, he's a good priest, he is. Faithful, devout, completely committed to God and his parishioners. He'd have been just as good a husband and father had I lived long enough for us to marry and give him wee ones. We were everything to each other. That's why I couldn't leave him even after I'd died.

You'll be more comfortable calling him “Father” after you've read the book, no doubt, but to me he'll always be Brian, so don't think I'm showing disrespect by calling him by his Christian name.

Brian and I met one night when I was playing the fiddle for my brothers who were dancing up a storm. He thought himself bewitched at first sight of me. I can't say I blame him, what with my long, tangled red hair flashing in the moonlight, me hopping about on a rock while I played a rollicking tune. He came and asked me to dance, so I gave the fiddle to my brother, Quentin, and we danced. From that moment on we were inseparable.

I think Brian was intrigued by the stories, legends really, that he'd heard about my family. The best one being that I had an ancestor who was one of the good people – what you folk would call a fairy. Quentin, being the mischievous sort, told him I was one, as well. He asked me if it was true. He made out like he was only teasing, but I could tell a small part of him actually wondered. I had a grand time with that, I can tell you! I never did give him a proper answer. He may have gone his whole life wondering after it for all I know.

We planned to wed, but it wasn't to be. I'll let the story of Kelegeen explain what happened to me and how it led him into the priesthood. Aye, but the ways of God are mysterious indeed.

When you love someone with all your heart and they love you as much, even death does not fully part you. That's how it was for Brian and me. He talked to me often throughout his life. At times, he believed he felt me with him. Sure enough, he was right. I was always at his side. Always, that is, until he sent me away. But that he did for a noble reason – a reason of selfless giving. He would sacrifice anything for any one of his people including my cherished presence. How could I not love him all the more for that? How could I not do what he asked of me?

Shirley Martin on Celtic Celebrations

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Before writing my fantasy romance, "Night Secrets," (Book 1 of the Avador series), I knew I needed to give my novel its own culture, its own civilization. The ancient Celts have long fascinated me, so I gave my fantasy a Celtic flavor, with my own variations. To describe the Celtic culture would take a book in itself, so here I've centered only on their festivals.

Celtic festivals weren't connected to equinoxes or solstices but were related to the fertility of the land. The four seasonal festivals reflect the pastoral and agricultural cycles of the year. Another way these festivals differed from more modern celebrations was that they began on the eve of the specific day of celebration. The Celts measured time by the moon.  In all of their calculations, night preceded day. In their festivals, we find traces not only of religious beliefs but also of a magical belief in things.

Samhain marked the beginning of the Celtic year and began on the night of October 31. (Guess what holiday we've derived from Samhain.)  On Samhain, the veil between the real world and the Otherworld was torn aside.  The sidhe--fairy mounds where the people of the Otherworld lived--opened, and spirits walked the land. The sidhe released phantoms and goblins to ride the night winds. The warrior dead came back to life, and bonfires were lit to guide the returning warriors. Gods and demons walked the night places, and humans knew to stay inside. A harvest festival, Samhain is the best-known Celtic celebration of all. (Although it's not part of the Avador series, my fantasy romance, "The Sacrifice, is based on this holy eve.)

Imgolg (or Imbolc) was a fertility festival celebrated on the first of February. It marked the beginning of spring. As believers of magic, the Celts brought divination and watching omens to this celebration. They lit candles and bonfires if the weather permitted.  Fire and purification played a prominent part in this festival. The Celts visited holy wells on this day where they prayed for health.

In more recent times, Imgolc has become a holy day honoring St. Brigid. Before going to bed, people left clothing and bits of cloth outside for Brigid to bless. In the morning, they brought the strips of cloth inside, now believed to have powers of healing and protection.

The Celts also believed that on Imbolg the Cailleach--divine hag--gathers her firewood for the rest of winter.

Beltane is the Celtic May Day festival and marked the beginning of summer, a time when cattle were driven out to pasture. As with Samhain, the people lit bonfires at night and walked around the fire; some even leaped over the fire.  People doused  household fires and relit them at the Beltane bonfire. A great feast that featured lamb accompanied these gatherings.  As a festival of life,decorations of yellow flowers--symbolizing sunlight--abounded, even on cattle. 

Some people say the bonfire was an attempt to mimic the sun and to ensure a plentiful supply of sunshine for the people, animals, and plants. In some places people took oatmeal cakes, a bit of which was offered to the spirits to protect their livestorck.

If tales are to believed, Beltane often became a riotous affair, where not only fire but romances were kindled.

Lughnasad was celebrated on August 1. Some say the god Lugh started the festival in honor of his mother. It marked the beginning of the harvest season. Often animals were sacrificed, the victims placed in baskets and thrown into the bonfire. The Celts held the concept of the vegetation or tree spirit that had the power over rain, sunshine and every means of fruitfulness. A tree held a prominent place in this festival, where tree branches were attached to houses to impart fertility.

This festival, too, involved great gatherings that included religious ceremonies, ritual athletic contests, feasting, and as with Beltane, matchmaking.