Book Review: Landscapes of Cult and Kingship

Bliadhna Mhath Ùr! Happy New Year!

I hope your 2018 is off to a good start... Round these parts we celebrated Hogmanay in typical rock 'n roll fashion by cleaning the house from top to toe, feeling less smug once said cleaning magically produced a massive pile of laundry to get through, and then finally sitting down to relax of an evening with Shaun of the Dead before ringing the bells in with the Beeb, while Mungo looked rather worried about whether or not the house-cleaning meant my mother was coming to visit.

But onto another review!

Landscapes of Cult and Kingship: Archaeology and Text
Roseanne Schot, Conor Newman and Edel Bhreathnach (Eds.)

This is both one of the most amazing and most frustrating books I've ever read.

It's amazing because it's a collection of essays that are pretty much all firmly dealing with my areas of interest, while it's frustrating because – and do excuse my language – there's absolutely no fucking way to actually own this book at the moment. And that doesn't look like it's likely to change in the near future as far as I can tell.

The good news (ish) is that some of the chapters are available online in pdf format, so you can get a taster for yourself (hopefully these links all work):

• The sacral landscape of Tara: a preliminary exploration – Conor Newman
• From cult centre to royal centre: monuments, myths and other revelations at Uisneach – Roseanne Schot
• Continuity, Cult and Contest – John Waddell

The book itself is the product of a conference that was held at NUI Galway back in 2009 (the book being published two years later), and it aims to explore the sacral and religious aspects of kingship and how it relates to the landscape – both in terms of the archaeology its left behind, as well as the way these things are expressed in literature, historical practices, and so on. This inter-disciplinary approach is one of the things I appreciate the most about this book (besides the content itself), and it's very much becoming the in thing these days, so hopefully there will be more to come.

I mentioned in my last review, for Brian Lacey's Lug's Forgotten Donegal Kingdom, that I have a longstanding interest in exploring how the gods relate to the landscape and the people of pre-Christian Ireland (and Scotland and Man, of course, but they're not the focus here). This book is another one for the bookshelf if that's what you're looking for as well, though it concentrates less on the gods and more on what a ritual landscape really means and how it works (or, more to the point, how it might have). As a collection of articles that covers a broad selection of subjects relating specifically to cult and kingship, it's a very different book compared with Lacey's own, which has a far narrower focus.

There are plenty of familiar faces to be found contributing to this book, some of them like John Waddell and Brian Lacey have books I've previously reviewed, while others like Edel Bhreathnach are authors whose books I've yet to get around to reviewing, plus a few others who're on my wishlist (like this one). There are also some authors I've not heard of before, but for the most part they're all solid contributions. Out of them all I think there are only really two that didn't really blow me away – the first chapter, which just seemed to strike an odd tone, to me, considering the rest of the book, and a much later chapter, Marie Lecomte-Tilouine's "Imperial snake and eternal fires: mythified power in a Himalayan sacred site of royalty (Dullu, Nepal)," that had very little to do with anything Irish at all – I appreciated the striking similarities it suggests, but personally don't feel it's helpful to rely too heavily on a comparative approach.

I'll concentrate on some of the chapters that stood out to me the most here (though that by no means implies the others are less worthy of note... I just don't want to waffle on too much), and I'll start with Conor Newman's "The Sacral Landscape of Tara" as an especially thought-provoking contribution; while I sometimes struggled to keep up with some of Teh Big Wurdz and felt it relied on a comparative approach a little too heavily at times, I liked it because it gives an excellent overview of the subject but didn't shy away from offering an interpretation of what it all means, especially in terms of Tara as a ritual landscape. This means bringing together the historical traditions as well, like the stories of the Dindshenchas that relate to the area (not just Tara itself, but the broader complex of the Tara-Skryne valley), and I think that this is the sort of thing that's incredibly important to anyone who wants to try to reconstruct an ancient belief system – not in the sense of reviving an ancient concept of sacral kingship (tell me a hideous-looking hag sovereignty goddess came along and slept with you before transforming into a beautiful young maiden who then made you king and I'm going to think something's terribly wrong with your beer goggles, mm'kay?), but in the sense of how a landscape is seen in symbolic, ceremonial terms; how it's used, what it means, what it makes us see and think, how it helps channel the flow of our religious experiences and our senses on a personal and communal level... It's all deliberate, it all has a purpose.

This brings us neatly onto Bridgette Slavin article a couple of chapters later on, which is titled "Supernatural arts, the landscape and kingship in early Irish texts." Here she makes the point that since the landscape is experienced through our senses, and its form can be used to channel and shape our own sense of it, any change in the landscape therefore changes our perception of it, and how we relate to it. These changes are therefore significant, and this is true in a literal sense, but it's also something that's important in a literary sense, as we see in so many tales where the state of a king's reign is often reflected in the state of his kingdom around him. As Slavin adds, however, there is often a connection between the supernatural arts of the druids, filid and (later on) the saints, with that of the king; they act as a sort of intermediary between the king and the land, being both the king's protector, but also the human agent through which a king might ultimately meet his downfall (Cairbre's curse against Bres for his lack of hospitality, for example). This is a fascinating chapter and well worth a read, I think; it's a shame that this one isn't available online because it really does offer some great insights.

John Waddell's contribution builds on a similar sort of theme as Newman's chapter but with a broader scope, looking at the landscape as a whole (not just the Tara complex itself). He argues – convincingly, I think – that the landscape shouldn't be looked at in simple "ritual" terms, but in mythological and historical terms as well; the landscape, and the way it came to be used – as a ritual centre, as part of a mythological story, an expression of cosmology or cosmogony, as a legal, political boundary or centre – are all intertwined. Politics and religion are hard to untangle in pre-Christian terms, but as Waddell argues, this carried on well into the medieval period as well, precisely because it was so hard to untangle. He also gives some examples of how the gods in the landscape are used over time to articulate certain things; the continuing importance of Áine in the Knockainey area means that she crops up in prophecy poems that was intended to comment on certain political alliances in the thirteenth century, where she is still portrayed as a guardian spirit, if not goddess outright. He also points to an entry in the Annals of Tigernach where the poet Gilla Lugan describes the cause of a plague (spoiler: demons did it) based on information relayed to him personally by Óengus mac Ind Óc, son of the Dagda.* As Waddell himself comments, "There is no reason to suppose that the power of ancestors had diminished; if anything, they played as great a role as ever in the social and cosmological order of the tribal societies of the time." It seems the same goes for the gods, too, up to a point.

Roseanne Schot's exploration of Uisneach and its significance answered a lot of questions for me, and she focuses especially on the site's connections with fire as well as water, noting that the stories surrounding Uisneach itself often focus on origins – especially in terms of manifesting various "primordial waters." This has fascinating implications as far as the subject of creation myths go, but considering the frequent associations between rivers and sovereignty in general, it also brings up some food for thought in that area too. As Schot goes on to illustrate, it's no wonder that Uisneach also has associations with Lug. As Schot sees it, Lug is the "archetypal, omniscient 'king'," so his links with Uisneach, as a sacred centre, as well as a royal centre, make sense (but what about Núadu...?).

Lacey's chapter here, titled "Three ‘royal sites’ in Co. Donegal," is what prompted me to hunt out his book, and for the most part you'll find that they both complement one another nicely. To a degree this chapter is more of the same from the book itself, but that's no bad thing, really, since we get a bit more depth than the book itself has space for – especially in relation to the connection between Lug and local saints such as St Begley (Beag Laoch, meaning "little warrior" or, perhaps originally, Beg Lug, "little Lug"). It offers up some good food for thought for anyone who's interested in Lug, but the broader implications are fascinating too – if this happened to Lug, which other deities got the same treatment that we aren't yet aware of?

One more chapter bears a mention, and that's Elizabeth Fitzpatrick's (et al) "Evoking the white mare: the cult landscape of Sgiath Gabhra and its medieval perception in Gaelic Fir Mhanach," which gives a great overview of the whole horse controversy – the one where Giraldus Cambrensis described an inauguration ritual which involved the new king "embracing" a horse (yes, in that way) before killing it, bathing in its broth and then eating as much meat and drinking as much of the broth as possible. There's long been a debate on how accurate the description is; old Gerald certainly had an agenda and had no desire to be too complimentary about the Irish (he was reporting to the new Norman overlords, after all), so how far can he be trusted on this? Especially when it's unlikely that he ever actually witnessed such a ceremony himself. Some feel he went out of his way to describe as many lurid and frankly damningly barbaric details as he could possibly come up with. Others point to the similarities in the over all description with that of the ancient Vedic asvamedha ceremony, which suggests there may have been at least a grain of truth in Giraldus's description... Unfortunately it doesn't go into details about the significance of horses in Irish tradition (as they relate to sovereignty), but the chapter does go on to conclude that such a ceremony is unlikely to have taken place during the time of the Méig Uidhir inauguration ceremonies (from the thirteenth century), at least. It also goes on to describe another ceremony – the rite of the single shoe – which was used by various dynasties as a way of laying claim to the kingship; the shoe, being left at a certain spot, was meant to be symbolic of the claim the shoe's owner had to the succession.

On the whole this is a very academic book that I'm not sure has an especially mass appeal. In that respect I can understand that it's very niche, which probably explains its limited availability (print on demand, please?), and really it's not going to be of much help to the beginner – at first, anyway. Some prior knowledge of the subject would be useful, for sure. Nonetheless, I think it's an important contribution to the subject that would be complemented nicely by a number of volumes, some of which are – unfortunately – just as hard to get hold of now. That said, if you manage to get hold of Edel Bhreathnach's The Kingship and Landscape of Tara or Bart Jaski's Early Irish Kingship and Succession, Elizabeth Fitzpatrick's Royal Inauguration in Gaelic Ireland c.1100-1600: A Cultural Landscape Study, and Francis John Byrne's Irish Kings and High Kings, you're probably off to a good start.

---

* The Annals of Tigernach – T1084.4

A great pestilence in this year, which killed a fourth of the men of Ireland. It began in the south, and spread throughout the four quarters of Ireland. This is the causa causans of that pestilence, to wit, demons that came out of the northern isles of the world, to with, three battalions, and in each battalion there were thiry and ten hundred and two thousand, as Oengus Óg, the son of the Dagda, related to Giolla Lugan, who used to haunt the fairy-mound every year on Halloween. And he himself beheld at Maistiu one battalion of them which was destroying Leinster. Even so they were see by Giolla Lugan's son, and wherever their heat and fury reached, there their venom was taken, for there was a sword of fire out of the gullet of each of them, and evey one of them was as high as the clouds of heaven, so that is the cause of this pestilence.

Links and things for Hogmanay

This is pretty much my favourite time of year so Hogmanay is a Big Deal in this house. Last year – because we're so rock'n'roll – the kids stayed up for the bells and we spent the evening eating popcorn and watching Batman (the Tim Burton version with Michael Keaton), and then we saw the new year in with a celebratory glass of Irn Bru. There's nothing like starting the new year with two kids hopped up on caffeinated fizzy beverages and E numbers...

This Hogmanay we'll probably be doing just about the same. The house will be cleaned and tidied, the kids will stay up till gone midnight, and then the next day (which will probably start with pancakes) we'll be going to the in-laws to enjoy the obligatory steak pie. This time we're providing the pudding – sticky toffee pudding, to be exact (at Tom's insistence).

If you're looking for some inspiration, though, you might want to start with Gaol Naofa's video:

There's some of the usual links and things over on Tairis, which I'll link up just now if you're looking for some historical information or things to make and do:

• Yule/Hogmanay Part One – Tairis
• Yule/Hogmanay Part Two – Tairis
• Celebrating Hogmanay – Tairis
• Festival Bannocks: Yule/New Year's – Tairis
• Frìth – Tairis
• Het Pint – Tairis
• Hogmanay Sowans – Tairis

But there's also plenty on here and elsewhere, too. If you're looking for some ideas for blessings to welcome in the new year these might be of use:

• A Hogmanay Blessing – in Gaelic with translation
• A New Year's Blessing – From the Carmina Gadelica
• Wha sains the hoos tha nicht? – A Scots Hogmanay Blessing
• Oidhche Choinnle, oidhche shona – A Hogmanay Duan
• Hogmanay – on Rampant Scotland
• Auld Lang Syne – the traditional song for the bells

Whatever you're up to for Hogmanay, I hope you have a good one! And if I don't manage a post before Friday then I hope 2016 brings you all blessings of health, wealth, and happiness. 

A very Happy Hogmanay to you all

Here's to a very Happy Hogmanay and a wonderful new year!

While I take a break from watching Batman and getting everything ready for seeing the new year in this evening, I thought I'd do a quick post (and celebrate the fact that I finally found the charger for my camera, which I "put somewhere safe" after we got back from Ireland in July and hadn't seen since. I tried buying a new one, which never arrived, and finding another one proved difficult, so I'm glad it turned up. For future reference, behind the bedroom mirror is apparently a "safe place." Who knew).

I'm feeling rather introspective and thankful as the year comes to a close. As years go, 2014 hasn't been a terrible one at all, especially now that we're finally getting back on our feet, financially, after Mr Seren lost his job in 2012 (and let's hope that continues). As years go, that one pretty much sucked donkeys, but we got through it I guess.

But it's certainly not all been sunshine and roses this year - not least for the fact that Eddie finally popped his clogs. As these things go I guess it could've been worse, but a new addition to the family takes some of the sting away:

This is Oscar, a "border collie" puppy (honest) who's probably only a wee bit sheep dog all in all... We think there's a good chance he has a fair bit of Jack Russell in him, and Mr Seren's convinced there's a bit of husky in there too. His fur is very soft and fluffy like that and his tail does curl up like a husky-type dog, but I think it's wishful thinking on Mr Seren's part there. Either way, we think he's going to end up about sheep dog sized, but aside from the markings on his head there's not much that's typically "sheep dog" about him, aside from the boundless energy, maybe.

We weren't planning on getting another dog so soon after Eddie, but as it happened looking at cute puppies helped cheer me up and I saw that Oscar needed a home only a few days after Eddie died. With the kids so young it's difficult to get a dog through rescue centres, since they tend to be very cautious about rehoming older dogs and puppies are few and far between. We'd prefer to get a rescue, but if that wasn't going to happen we didn't want to go out and just buy a puppy. As it happened, Oscar had been with a family for three weeks, but one of the kids, who's autistic, wasn't coping with the change. They'd previously had a sheep dog so thought he'd be OK with it, but as with any puppy, Oscar's pretty full on at times and it proved too much for the kid. He started locking himself away and self-harming, and eventually the parents decided that it was better if Oscar was rehomed before something terrible happened. So I emailed the family and introduced myself, and they got in touch straight away. Two days later, after a couple of chats on the phone, we went to see him and brought him home with all of the bits and pieces they'd bought for him.

He was eleven weeks when we got him - he's just coming up 15 weeks now, and a bit bigger than he is in the photo there - and he's obviously been well looked after. He came from a farm - friends of the family, who gave him to them after their old dog died - and he's a very confident and outgoing little dog, and he's picking up commands and cues quickly. Though he often has a bad case of selective deafness... Hobbies include chewing, chewing, and more chewing.

Mungo's taken to him well and they've become good friends, and Mungo's a lot happier having someone to play with. With Eddie being as he was towards the end, he wasn't up for running around the garden play-fighting, and so on, so it's nice to see Mungo feeling a lot perkier these days. He was a little nervous of Oscar at first but Oscar's not exactly shy and Mungo was attempting to sit on his head and show him who's boss in no time.

Redding the house with a puppy to keep occupied has been an interesting challenge, to say the least. Tonight the kids are staying up to see the bells in, if they're good, and we'll be going to the in-laws for the usual steak pie tomorrow (probably with Oscar in tow). We have the candles lit and there's shortbread ready to go out as offerings after the bells have rung. Then we'll sweep out the old year and welcome in the new, and in the morning the house will be sained after a good breakfast.

If you check out the Hogmanay tag here on the blog you'll find some blessings and saining prayers I've posted over the years, if you're looking for inspiration. One of my favourites is:

Mor-phiseach air an taigh, Piseach air an teaghlach, Piseach air gach cabar. Is air gach ni saoghalt' ann. Piseach air eich a's crodh, Piseach air na caoraich, Piseach air na h-uile ni, 'S piseach air ar maoin uil'. Piseach air beann an taighe, Piseach air na paistean, Piseach air each caraide, Mor-phiseach agus slaint dhuibh.

Great good luck to the house, Good luck to the family, Good luck to every rafter of it, And to every wordly thing in it. Good luck to horses and cattle, Good luck to the sheep. Good luck to every thing, And good luck to all your means. Luck to the good-wife. Good luck to the children, Good luck to every friend. Great fortune and health to all.

Yet more videos...

With the year drawing to a close it seemed apt to finish off our series on the festivals, and so in good time for the solstice and Hogmanay, Gaol Naofa has released two new videos (conveniently dealing with the solstice and Hogmanay respectively), which complete the festival year in the Gaelic calendar.

Considering the fact that a number of the festivals we've covered aren't Gaelic or pre-Christian in origin, it's no surprise to find that not every Gaelic Polytheist celebrates every single one. Each of them is significant in some way, when considered as being part of the bigger picture, as part of the continuum, but that doesn't necessarily mean all of them mean something to us on a personal, individual level. In the case of this particular festive period, I tend to pay more mind to Hogmanay than the solstice itself, because of the fact that it's a huge deal here in Scotland. Though with the kids finishing school today, and Mr Seren being on holiday as well, we'll inevitably end up having a whole festive thing, of sorts, until they get back to school come January...

Kathryn has a great post over on her blog that goes into some details about the traditions surrounding Hogmanay, and the Hogmanay video itself gives some details as well as a bit of context and history:

The music is by Clanadonia, who are good friends of my husband, so please support them! (This particular song is used in the first episode of Outlander, and at least one of the band members is in it as an extra. Just so you know...).

Anyway. Our video on the solstice has an overview of the origins and influences of the celebrations, and some things that you can do if you want to:

As Kathryn noted, I've used some of the photos I took during my visit to Ireland earlier this year (although I can assure you, the really good ones like the preview pic above aren't mine!).

Here, at home, we might indulge somewhat in a squidgy chocolate Yule log over the next few days (a family tradition I grew up with), and then there will be the usual cleaning and tidying - redding the house for the new year - and the lighting of many candles, which will fall to Rosie as her duty. The old year will be swept out, and the new year welcomed in, and then house will be sained, along with all of us in it. There will probably be the usual steak pie on New Years' Day at the in-laws (as is traditional in these parts), so we'll do some baking so we can take something with us as a gift. Tom loves baking, so he can take point on that. And we have a new puppy! So there will be a good opportunity to brave a trip to the beach and some other spots around the village so we can make some offerings and collect some water from the dead and living ford (there's one not far from here). All in all, there's plenty of things for us to be doing.

As always, I hope you enjoy the videos as much as I've enjoyed making them. While these two videos finish off our series on the festivals - thirteen videos in total - we intend to carry on with more, tackling some other topics in due course. We've had some requests for videos that people would like to see, and any more ideas are very welcome.

Hogmanay Duan

Oidhche Choinnle, oidhche shona,
Oidhche air am bi loinn is sonas,
Maighdeanan a’ roinn nam bonnach,
Coinnlean a’ boillsgeadh soluis;
Chiream charam feadh an tighe,
So an tigh ’s am beil mo ghnothach,
’S chan eil romham dhol na’s fhaide! 

Candle-night, fortunate night,
Splendid and felicitous night,
Maidens distributing the bannocks,
Candles shining with their light;
Lots of bustle about the house,
This is the house where my errand lies,
And there’s no need for me to go further. 

MacTalla XI, October 17, 1902, translated by Catriona NicÌomhair Parsons

Bliadhna Mhath Ùr dhuibh uile!

Slàinte, sonas agus beartas dhuibh,
Bliadhna mhath ùr, agus mòran dhiubh.

Health, wealth and happiness to you,
Happy new year, and many of them.

Happy New Year!

The last month or so has been incredibly busy here, with the baking and decorating of copious amounts of cake and a long overdue trip to my hometown to catch up with friends and family, and (more importantly) attend my sister's wedding. An evening spent drinking massive amounts of chocolate-flavoured wine with my gracious host, Dyni – who so very kindly put us up at pretty short notice – and my dear friends Candleshoe and Mudrat (actual names withheld to protect the guilty. Heh) at least made up for the horrors of spending the best part of a day with my whole family in an enclosed space, and it was good to see my nan for the first time in three years. The wedding itself was lovely, though, and the vicar was hilariously stoned.

And with that done, there was the long trip home, and Christmas was just about upon us.

The winter has been pretty mild in terms of temperature, in spite of a cold start, but it's been extremely stormy, and even when it hasn't been howling with wind and rain outside, it's been pretty moody and grim:

But with plenty of rainbows to add a little variety:

We managed to make it home just before the worst of the storms hit, thankfully, and so we were able to spend Christmas Day with the in-laws and my now four-month-old great-niece.

Hogmanay was a quiet one, as usual. The kids decided to stay up and wait for the bells, and as per tradition, once the bells had rung and the toasts were made – with orange or apple juice, on the insistence of the kids – Mr Seren proudly announced that he hadn't had a shit since last year. He's a charmer, that's for sure.

As usual, we'd spent the day "redding" the house – cleaning and tidying and making sure everything was all as it should be. In the evening a feast was had, and once I'd taken a shower and was all set for the evening, we lit some candles and put them in the window and all along the mantlepiece to begin our festivities proper. Games were played, a chocolate yule log was consumed, and then the old year was laid to rest. Offerings were made, thanks were given, and the old year was swept out and the new year welcomed in. We put a silver penny out on the doorstep to see if the new year will be a prosperous one (it was still there in the morning, so it should be...here's hoping). Then, for New Year's Day itself, it was off to the in-laws for the customary steak pie dinner and more cuddles with my great-niece.

And now thoughts are turning to the year ahead, in hope and wonderment at what it might bring for us; hopefully good things. Whatever it has in store for us on a personal level, it's sure to be an interesting one on a broader scale too, with the Scottish Referendum come September. Although I predict that "ridiculous" might also be a good adjective too, if the media coverage so far is anything to go by.

Bliadhna Mhath Ùr a h-uile duine!

Slàinte, sonas agus beartas dhuibh.
Health, wealth and happiness to you.

Hogmanay was a quiet one for us - surprisingly quiet considering the kids stayed up to see the new year in! The day was spent setting the house in order, baking shortbread and treacle scones, and a dinner of beef stew and sticky toffee pudding, and the evening was spent with slightly manic children and a game of Ludo (a Christmas present we'd yet to play) and keepy-uppy with a balloon up until the bells. We watched as the cannon at Edinburgh was fired to welcome in the new year and the fireworks started going off, and the kids jumped about all excited and we toasted each other with fizzy orange or lemonade (we're nothing if not rock n' roll in this house). Offerings were made, and for once I remembered to put a silver penny out on the doorstep (it was still there this morning; a good sign). We haven't had any first-footers yet, but we'll be going over to the in-law's later on for the traditional steak pie dinner, and probably far too much pudding.

Following on from my previous post, there's an article from the Beeb that ties in neatly:

Happy Hoggo-nott? The 'lost' meanings of Hogmanay

Meanwhile, up north in Stonehaven, the fireball event was nearly cancelled due to flooding this year, but in the end it was planned to go ahead as scheduled. I can't find any videos or articles on it yet, but hopefully everything went smoothly.

Anyway, Happy New Year everyone! May 2013 bring all good things.

A Hogmanay blessing

Although it's not quite certain, it's thought that the name "Hogmanay" - which is what the Scots call New Year's Eve - comes from the French word "hoguinane," which itself is ultimately related to the Old French word "aguillaneuf," or a New Year gift. In addition to giving gifts - special gifts that symbolise prosperity, warmth and good will, like food, drink, salt or coal - there is a strong tradition of blessing and divination, and all of these things can be incorporated into a Gaelic Polytheist practice, I think.

One of the most interesting customs that could be revived (because as far as I'm aware it's not done anymore) - in groups where there are enough bodies to do so - is the merry band of the gillean callaig or 'Hogmanay Lads.' The gillean callaig would come round the houses with their songs, bull-hides and sticks, to solicit donations of food and drinks from the household in exchange for a blessing and saining. The sticks would be used to beat around the house as they went around sunwise and called the inhabitants to come out - on the one hand the whole thing was to get the household's attention, but on the other, with the noise and the sunwise turn, and someone dressed in the hide of a magnificent bull, there's the sense of a protective rite, too, scaring away the evil spirits with the noise and a bigger, scarier beast (the bull) as anything that might be around, perhaps. The bull - typically the hide preserved from the winter bull killed at Martinmas - might also symbolise the winter itself, and all of the things that loomed in the season - cold and want, death and illness. The household, in giving the lads hospitality, effectively paid it off, in the hopes of avoiding any of the wintry dangers in future.

Once inside, the bull-hide might be singed and the smoke wafted around the room, just like the juniper and water that would be used the next day, and every member of the household would lean in to inhale the fumes and stench. If the household gave the gillean callaig hospitality to their liking, the lads would leave with a blessing, like this example given by Alexander MacGregor:

Mor-phiseach air an tigh, Piseach air an teaghlach, Piseach air gach cabar. Is air gach ni saoghalt' ann. Piseach air eich a's crodh, Piseach air na caoraich, Piseach air na h-uile ni, 'S piseach air ar maoin uil'. Piseach air beann an tighe, Piseach air na paistean, Piseach air each caraide, Mor-phiseach agus slaint dhuibh.

Great good luck to the house, Good luck to the family, Good luck to every rafter of it, And to every wordly thing in it. Good luck to horses and cattle, Good luck to the sheep. Good luck to every thing, And good luck to all your means. Luck to the good-wife. Good luck to the children, Good luck to every friend. Great fortune and health to all.

This would be said as the head of the gillean callaig went around the hearth (or a proxy - a chair set out specially for the job if the house didn't have an open, central hearth) reciting the blessing, as the rest of the group beat their sticks. Later on in the evening, the household might take to making a right racket themselves, opening the doors and windows as midnight struck, and making as much noise as they could to scare away any evil spirits (and all the negatives of the old year) again. 

A large part of this kind of Hogmanay rite relies on the giving of hospitality. There's an element of challenge at first - the lads beat their sticks and sing their song, demanding to be let in, and it's up to the household to let them in or not (and face the consequences). It all becomes a kind of dance, everyone carefully following the steps in order to maintain a balance at a time when order and chaos are very much hanging. There's an interesting article on all of this - the giving of hospitality, the threshold, and Scottish 'thigging' (sanctioned begging) here, which is well worth a read if you're interested in looking into all of this further. For now, though: Bliadhna mhath ùr dhuibh uile! Agus na h-uile la gu math duibh. Happy New Year everyone! And may all your days be good.

My eyes!

Winter is happily settled in now, and it's feeling moody and dramatic:

But also mostly calm. Lots of frost and ice, a little snow now and then (a flurry on Friday but it didn't settle), but otherwise compared to last year and the many storms that came our way, things have been quiet. Given the frost and ice I've not been out around the village as much as I'd like but the kids and I have had a few trips out and about at the weekends at least.

This weekend, however, the kids were at their grandparents so my mother-in-law could take them to a sing-a-long pantomime sort of thing ('tis the season), and so I could get stuck in to redecorating their bedroom as an early Christmas present. My son, now seven, has decided that he's too old for decor like this:

Which is what I did for them when we first moved in here and they were both considerably younger. The decor has certainly seen better days now and some of the stickers have taken off a chunks of the paint so it's as good a time as any to try and fix it; Tom, being a Big Boy now, has asked for bunk beds for Christmas (just like his cousin), and seeing as he will probably stay in this room when it's time for the kids to have their own space, we decided that he should have first dibs on the colour scheme. His first choice was an airport theme, replete with runway and two planes crashing in mid air and the beginnings of a fire ball emerging from said crash. While imaginative, that got vetoed in short order. Oddly. So did Rosie's desire for pirates and mermaids (I'm flattered by their faith in my artistic abilities, but aside from the amount of paint that would be needed...no. And in spite of Tom's assurances that there were no serious injuries, plane crashes are an immediate no).

In the end, they were given a choice of two colours, to be agreed on by them both, and I can only describe them as closely akin to "Communist Red" and "Veering Towards Mustard." It's vibrant, you might say:

Although the terrible lighting in this picture doesn't quite do the colours justice (I wanted to take a picture for posterity, before the kids took over; I figured it would never be as clean or tidy once they took up residence once again). Thankfully the yellow has mellowed now it's had a chance to dry.

So as with anything else, I've approached the decorating with a spiritual bent. "Sunwise for everything" goes the saying, so the paint goes on around the room in the appropriate direction, as does the ceremonial hoovering and cleaning of the carpet. Seeing as I had to strip the whole room bare I had to remove their rowan charm temporarily (it goes nicely with the new decor, eh?):

So that went back up with some words, once everything was ready to go back in. I ran out of time at the weekend but at some point I'll probably sain the room with some silvered water too - maybe after Christmas when the kids get a few final bits and pieces to finish the room off and it's all done and final. Aside from muscles that haven't been used in a good long while complaining loudly, my back held up admirably with all of the prepping and sanding, base-coat and then paint that was needed. But just now it would like me to sit down for a bit, thanks. Putting the laundry away's OK, though.

Before the kids went away we made a fat cake for the birds - just suet and bird seed mixed together:

With added cow bell

Which has now been put up in the garden as an offering from us, as part of my new moon rite - the last one of the year. They both helped to make it but only Rosie wanted to come out with me to put it up, so after the fat cake had been put in place and just as the new moon obligingly peeked out through the clouds, I encouraged her to make say hello and make a wish if she wanted to. She did (we both did, together), and then almost immediately she shouted excitedly, "My wish came true!" So I asked her what it was, and she said she just wanted the clouds to lift so she could see the stars up above. Sure enough, a clear patch had appeared right above us.

While I was decorating there were lots and lots of birds hanging around noisily outside - they're not shy in letting you know when you're slacking in the bird food department - so it seems doubly apt to put something out for them to finish off my sprucing up. The weather forecast seems to suggest that it's going to be a cold winter so I like to make sure they're fed, and as I see them as messengers it's only appropriate to look after them too. The cow shape (from a silicone jelly/cake mould) was Rosie's choice, and as cows are very Celtic it only seems apt. Rosie's always a good barometer for Appropriate Choices like this.

Decorating and getting the house in order is very traditional at this time of year - sprucing things up for the New Year (start as you mean to go on) - so it's a good opportunity to do a few things around the house to make sure everything is in its place. It always seems to me at this time of year that everyone is busy concentrating on Christmas so normal life goes out of the window; everything else gets put on hold until the Hogmanay hangover has been dealt with, so in this liminal sort of timeframe it feels like it's a good time to think about seeing out the old year and preparing for the new. It's a little earlier than I usually start but seeing as the kids will be finishing school at the end of the week it makes sense to get a head start while they're not around as much.

For many different reasons I'll be glad to see the back of this year so I'm keen to start the new year on the right sort of footing, and a little extra effort in that respect wouldn't go amiss. It's also one of those times where I'm feeling reflective, and while I'm looking forward to the new year, I've been thinking a lot about all of the things I can be thankful for from this year. In spite of all of the not so good things that might happen, I always try to think of all the good things that have happened, too. One of the biggest things I'm thankful for is this family I've found myself a part of - my husband's family, which is one of the main reasons we moved here to this part of Scotland: For the sake of giving the kids the kind of life and support we've wanted to give them. The in-laws have been a huge support throughout all of my back problems and the things that life has thrown at us this year, and though I've married in to the family they've always made me feel like I'm welcome and one of them. My mother-in-law had a minor stroke earlier this year - she's recovered well, thankfully - and it's one of those things that makes you think about what people mean to you, I suppose. With the next generation on the way next year (I'm going to be a great aunt, if all goes well), it will continue to be an important theme, I think - not just the kids, but everyone - especially now that Rosie in particular is becoming increasingly keen to involve herself in my practices.

For now, though, it's time for a good clean and tidy, and fixing up a few things here and there. Once I've had a wee rest...

Bliadhna Mhath Ùr dhuibh uile!

Happy New Year, everyone. Slàinte mhòr agus a h-uile beannachd duibh (Great health and every good blessing to you)!

We had a quiet Hogmanay, and my husband and I welcomed in the new year together after a busy day of cleaning and getting the house in order. After some offerings and prayer I went off to bed not too long after some chatting with friends and family, and then in the morning I did some more formal ritual with blessings, prayer and offerings, sweeping the old year out and welcoming in the new year, and saining the house. I'd hoped to have done a lot of that before I went to bed, but physically I wasn't up to it then. It got done, at least.

I'd anticipated that laying the old year to rest would be something I was more than happy to do; it wasn't a terrible year, as such, but there are some things that I'm more than happy to leave behind - threads of stress and worries that I hope aren't carried on into this new year. More than anything, for me personally, the last year has been dominated by my having to adjust to chronic pain issues - learning how to live with it, finding medications that actually help, accepting my limitations and the fact that I'm unlikely to ever get better. Not great. On reflection, though, I can't say that things are all that bad...

In my prayers and blessings, I've felt a little conflicted about wishing for health for my family and myself (such as in this blessing), since I have this chronic pain thing that isn't ever going to go away...Considering the fact that there are days when I can't even walk, I can't say I'm a picture of physical health to begin with, and wishing for health when I'm not and never will be is something that seems odd to me; wishing for something that can never be again. Then again, all in all I know things could be a lot worse for myself; there are far - far - worse afflictions that I could be suffering from. It's something that I found myself mulling over as I meditated before bedtime on New Year's Eve: There are plenty of other health problems that I can be grateful that I don't have, and all in all what I do have is something I can live with. It got me thinking that while the chronic pain stuff has changed a lot in my life over the past year or so, it's something that I am going to adjust to eventually. I'm getting there, I think, and eventually maybe I'll get to the point where it won't be something I will have to keep harping on about here(!) as I figure stuff out.

Whatever changes it might have brought in my life, there are some things that haven't changed, and these are the things that are the most important. My kids are happy and thriving, I have family and friends that have been a great support to me, I have a roof over my head, and love in my life. Life can be a stress or a struggle at times, but most of all I have pretty much everything I need; the simple, fundamental things in life. It makes me feel incredibly lucky, and humbled, too.

There are other changes that have happened in the last year - solidifying good friendships, making new ones and finding spiritual fellowship; moving forward with my writing and research, finding more confidence in what I do, and so on. Not everything went the way that I'd hoped in the last year, though, and there are some things that might give me pause when I think about them. In particular, I'm saddened by the fact that I've been unable to visit my family and friends for over a year now - and not just because of my health problems. I'm thankful that some were able to visit me instead, even so.

Looking back and looking forward, I have a lot to be thankful for. Sometimes change can be difficult and painful, but I suppose looking on the bright side I've learned a lot, even from the negative stuff...I can't say what the future might bring, but having laid the last year to rest that's where my mind turns to now; I'm not one for making resolutions so really my only intention for the future is to keep plugging away at everything. Keep writing, keep adjusting, keep doing. And hoping that this year will be an improvement on the last.

Beannachadh Bliadhna Ùir

A happy Hogmanay to you all! And Good Wishes for the new year.

Today I'll be having the traditional tidy up and setting things in order, and tonight I'll be having a quiet celebration at home, with some offerings and a little ritual. I've decided I won't be trying the traditional Het Pint as the bells ring the new year in; eggs in my beer/whisky are kind of off-putting, I think!

Tomorrow we'll be off to the in-laws for the traditional steak pie dinner, as usual, but right now I thought I'd post an adaptation of a new year blessing that Carmichael recorded in Volume One of the Carmina Gadelica (said first thing on the first day of the new year):

Gods, bless to me the new day,

Never given to me before;

It is to bless your own presence

That you have given me this time, O Gods.

Bless to me my eye,

May my eye bless all it sees;

I will bless my neighbour,

May my neighbour bless me.

Gods, give me a clean heart,

Let me not from the sight of your eye;

Bless to me my family,

And bless to me my way.

Bliadhna Mhath Ùr!

Hogmanay is something of a religious experience for my husband, he says half seriously - as close as it gets for him, anyway. So while we've had another quiet one, just us together with a curry, whisky and wine, it is indeed a special time.The past and the future hang in the balance, and in between it all, there's family. The people who are really important.

One year we went on holiday to the Maldives - just as George Bush was announced president in (some said) dubious circumstances and much controversy. I was still at university, in the middle of my final year and desperately trying to stay on top of my dissertation as well as everything else, and off we went to a tiny island in the arse end of nowhere, and celebrated the new year mid-air with a tiny plastic cup of cheap fizz courtesy of the airline. I was banned from doing any coursework, just some much needed relaxing. We snorkelled, we ate, we drank, we indulged ourselves with a bizarre massage (a marma massage - that I learnt about as it happened...), and watch a meteor shower on the beach and marvelled at it until we realised we were absolutely surrounded by crabs crawling around everywhere...Hmm.

Another year, we went to Tunisia over the new year, and my dear husband surprised me with a marriage proposal (which he'd planned for Hogmanay, but it didn't quite work out that way...he ended up proposing the day before and surprised me with a ring). The hotel we were staying at had a seven-course meal and an evening of entertainment planned, but the hotel was more than a little odd, we thought, and it didn't bode well when we went to the lift to go to the restaurant that evening, to find that the theme tune from M*A*S*H* was playing on a muzak tape over the speakers. 'Cos suicide is painless...

Five hours later and only two or three courses down - one of which was a small piece of melon, and another of which was a prawn cocktail, which neither of us eat - we gave up, having seen in the new year with a couple from the Navy who were sat at our table and clearly unhappy at having to share. We ended up booking a Saharan tour for the rest of our stay, and that was great fun. For my husband, especially, seeing as most of the sights we saw involved various sets from Star Wars.

Another Hogmanay, sometime after we were married, we have a quiet night in and after the bells my husband phones his parents to tell them that they're going to be grandparents - their third grandchild, but our first, and oh is everyone hoping it'll be a boy to carry on the family name...No pressure on my uterus or anything.

The year after that, we have friends staying - they've come to meet Tom for the first time since he was born that September. One of the couples has brought their daughter with them - only three at the time - so the morning after we go for a walk with Eddie (my dog) to the park to give the kids some fresh air and Eddie a good run around. We talk about this and that, including how my grandad's doing - his health and mind have been declining for a while now, but the doctors have been trying experimental drugs with him and they seem to be helping a little. I'm upbeat and optimistic about it all, hoping that if he has to end up like his mother did, then maybe the drugs will buy him some time at least.

We come home and my husband takes me into the front room to tell me that my dad's phoned. I know it's bad because he chokes as he tries to tell me, and just pulls me into a big bear hug so he doesn't have to look at me as he tells me, and so he knows that I have someone there, to collapse on, scream at, rage against, cry into, whatever. My grandad's had a massive heart attack whilst out for a walk with my nan - his wife of at least 50 years - and on this day, new year's day 2006, he's dead. Suddenly, horrifically, messily dead. Totally unexpected. My dad left a message to the effect that my nan doesn't want anyone to go and view the body. She feels it would be too distressing, given his state - death wasn't pretty, for Poppy, as me me and my sister called him. Ten years earlier, only a few days later to the day, my (maternal) gran did the same. I know how it goes. 

The house is quiet. After the shock settles, I cry. I go upstairs to have a bath and some time alone before having to face everyone and feed Tom. Life goes on.

But thinking back now it all reminds me that life is precarious. There's good, there's bad, there's things that don't really bear commenting on, one way or another. Considering previous years, the year just past probably rates in my top ten. There have been tough spots and fears, but nonetheless I can't complain. I'm thankful.

I guess aside from finally getting the idea that yes - Hogmanay is a big deal and for my husband to continually choose a quiet one - ish - with my own self is truly the biggest compliment I could ever receive from him, it's poignant in another respect too. We went down south to my hometown for Christmas, spending the day with my sister and mum. We dropped in on dad and his girlfriend too, and only briefly got to see my nan. It was poignant for me because the kids were really looking forward to going to see my family again - it's been a long while since we managed a trip altogether, so it was long overdue. At Samhainn I reminisced with the kids about those in the family that I've loved and lost. I told them stories about my childhood, about the grandparents who are no longer with us. I showed them pictures.

At all of three years old, Rosie seems have taken my grandad 'Poppy' to heart. She loves visiting my nan, and knows that my nan and Poppy were married. They should be a pair, as far as she's concerned, still. She doesn't understand why there are pictures of him and Tom, but not herself, as babies. She was upset when I told her she couldn't see him this time round, when we spoke about it just before Christmas, so this New Year's, marking the fifth anniversary of his death, is doubly meaningful to me. It's a big reminder that even when things are going well, things can be so unpreidactable. Life can throw a curveball or two, at a moment's notice. Sometimes they're a good sort of curveball, sometimes not so much. Most of the time, expect the unexpected.

This is what I associate the new year with - and while I'm sure many go with Samhainn or Bealltainn as the 'official' new year, or even Imbolc, Hogmanay is it for me. It's one of the few times I can join in with others, including having someone in the family scheduled to visit for a first foot, to ensure a good omen. While we had a good first foot (technically my husband, who fits the general stereotype of an auspicious firstfooter), I woke up on New Year's day with Tom informing me that Mungo had shat in the spare room. Nice. 

As wake up calls go, not the best. But considering previous form for the day, maybe not the worst? I do hope so. Yesterday was spent at the in-laws with the usual steak pie dinner and surprising sobriety all round. It's rude not to arrive with something, so the kids and I made some sugar doughnut muffins to take over - a compromise, really, because coming from a long line of bakers I don't think my shortbread will ever pass muster compared to what my father-in-law grew up with (even if my efforts are dinosaur shaped, as the kids insist on). But I know my mother-in-law likes the muffins, having done those before, so I did those and received the surprise honour of a promise of the family black bun recipe in return after the offerings had been officially tasted. There's no one in the family to carry it on, and a black bun requires skill and dedication apparently. I feel honoured to even be considered. 

But still, returning to the whole Hogmanay theme, we ate, we drank, and before that we all spent the day cleaning and tidying the house from top to bottom to make sure it was in good order for the new year to enter into. I sained the house and made offerings throughout the day (though I've yet to make any bannocks, properly) and as it happens, stumbled across a Scots version of a saining in a book of children's nursery rhymes, which I thought I'd share:

Wha sains the hoose the nicht?
They that sains it ilka nicht -
Saint Bryde an her brat,
Saint Colme an his hat,
Saint Michael an his spear,
Keep this hoose frae the weir,
Frae rinnin thief,
Frae burnin thief,
An frae a' ill rea
That by the gate can gae, 
An frae an ill wicht
That by the gate can licht.*

(Who blesses the house tonight?
They that bless it every night -
Saint Brigid and her mantle,
Saint Columba and his hat,
Saint Michael and his spear,
Keep this house from the fear,
From running thief,
From burning thief,
And from all  ill trouble
That goes by the road,
And from an ill (meaning) fellow
That by the road can light.)

I've never seen one so explicit, I don't think, so it certainly piqued my interest.

And so with that, all that's left for me to do is raise a glass to my grandad's honour, and then wish you all a good year. May it be one of peace and plenty, health and good wishes to you all.


Beannachd diathan dhuibh.



*From Traditional Scottish Nursery Rhymes, by Norah and William Montgomerie, 1985, p122, with my own translation.

And another update

Not much time for proper posts at the moment - I'm on a writing and research kick that's kind of taking my brain away from any actual deep thoughts to ramble on about at great length (and aren't you glad) - so instead you'll have to put up with another update about the stuff I've been doing over on Tairis.

Maybe it's the fact that Spring finally seems to have settled in and I'm coming out of hibernation mode. I'm enjoying the sunshine and I seem to be inspired by it at the moment, and so the next few articles I've done are only, oh, four months late (but better late than never...). So:

Yule/Hogmanay - Part 1
Yule/Hogmanay - Part 2
Celebrating Hogmanay

Unfortunately I ended up managing the equivalent of a short dissertation, so the first article wouldn't fit on one page and I've had to split it up...Part one covers Yule, Hogmanay and New Year's Day (in Scotland), while Part Two covers The Processions and Bonfires, New Year's Eve in Ireland, and a short Conclusion. I've attempted to pick out all the important bits from there to give some suggestions on what you can do if you want to go about celebrating the New Year in style in the second article, Celebrating Hogmanay.

All that's left to say at this point is: I do have a life, honest...

Hogmanay

It seems I kind of forgot to post about Hogmanay...


There's no denying I've had a lot of things going on in the past year that I'm glad to see the back of, if at all possible, so I was quite keen on celebrating Hogmanay. To me it's about renewal, as much as it's a farewell, and I suppose you might say I'm deeply superstitious about some things. Starting the New Year is one of them: I'd like to start on a positive note in the hopes that it carries through for the year, at the least.

So on the 31st, as the bells approached, Mr Seren and I were together, waiting for the bells. We rang them in with BBC Alba, drank a toast and did the usual, and then I ran outside to see the fireworks. I had some offerings to put out too, so it was good timing, and evidently all the noise had disturbed a bird or two because a crow flew down and perched on the fence right in front of me - some coincidence, I'd say. We looked at each other for a moment, and there was one of those pregnant pauses before the moment broke. It felt like Badb was making herself known and I wondered what that meant (and I've been pondering since). I stayed outside for a bit, but nothing else happened.

I did my devotions, sained the house and everyone in it, and eventually went to bed. I couldn't get comfy though, I had a cold coming on and I was achy and still hyperactive from everything. In the end I got up, without having had more than an hour's broken sleep, and pottered about the house, meditated, and eventually saw the sunrise in. Mr Seren lasted until about 3am - he was trying to stay up too, like he usually does, but he was just too tired and we were going over to the in-laws the next day anyway, so he needed to be fit to drive.

I was hoping to perform the frìth again, but I was in two minds about it. On the one hand I felt that my crow-sighting was a sign enough, but on the other hand I wanted to do it 'properly'. The kids were up before the sun was, though, so in spite of my best efforts it just didn't work. Unless you count being interrupted by Rosie because she wanted help putting her fairy wings on (in which case...fuck). I swear, those things breed in this house. I did see the moon setting, though, which made a nice symmetry to how I started my celebrations the night before - seeing the moon rise, and then the partial eclipse. But all in all it wasn't so much portentous - or as portentous - as just rounding things off a bit.

I managed to grab a catnap or two before we went to the in-laws, with some freshly made Yethol bannocks as a first-footing gift, and we had the obligatory steak pie, lots of chat about the impending wedding, and (for the kids at least) far too many sweeties. It was good fun, even though I was absolutely knackered by the end of it all. Rosie had to have a reassurring cuddle when Doctor Who started regenerating, it was all a bit confusing for her (not least because we were shouting at the TV because it was so overblown...GET ON WITH IT!!!!).

Anyway, seeing as my mother-in-law gave me a surprise windfall, I've spent most of it on some new clothes (that fit, yay!) and so on, but I also allowed myself a little splurge on some books. I got a Gaelic book to help me with my studies, and a book on Irish Food and Folklore (which sounded good, but is mostly disappointing. I tried the recipe for an Irish Curd Cheesecake and as I was working through the instructions, realised the author had neglected to mention when the cottage cheese was supposed to be added. It's the main bloody ingredient! Not hard to figure out, though, but shoddy work. The folklore was thoroughly lacking, superficial, and poorly researched for the most part, too). I also got two books on Scottish fairies - academic books, so I was bit more confident that they'd be good and meaty, and happily it seems I'm right. The first is Scottish Fairy Belief by Lizanne Henderson and Edward Cowan, which is kind of an introduction to the subject, and the second is Fantastical Imaginations: The Supernatural in Scottish History and Culture by Lizanne Henderson (edited by, anyway), which is a collection of essays on the subject. I'm nearly finished with the first and was pleased to find something that comes with good timing:

"The most interesting name of all, used to specifically denote the queen of the fairies, is NicNiven or Neven, which appears to derive from Neamhain, one of the Gaelic and Irish war furies better known as Badb. The matter is complex since Neamhain and Badb may represent different aspects of the same persona, but badhb in some Irish dialects is the word for the supernatural death messenger more familiarly known in Ireland and Scotland as the banshee, bean-sithe literally 'fairy-woman' in Gaelic. Badhb also means a hoodie-crow and carries the sense of 'deadly' or 'ill-fated'; it can also translate as 'witch', which is apposite since Scotland NicNiven was also queen of the witches. This intriguing name therefore, originated in the Gàidhealtachd whence it was imported into the Lowlands and even found its way to Shetland. W. B. Yeats was therefore incorrect when he stated that 'the gentle fairy presences' which haunted the imagination of his countrymen became 'formidable and evil as soon as they were transferred to Scottish soil', since this truly terrifying death messenger seems to be shared by both Ireland and Scotland while her associations give some indication of how the Scots regarded the fairy queen."

So lots for me to ponder, I think. I have to say, I'm really enjoying Scottish Fairy Belief, which is always happy-making.