Archive: Highland Smugglers, Second Sight and Superstitions - Francis Thompson

Highland Smugglers, Second Sight and Superstitions
Francis Thompson

I saw this listed on one of my late night trawls of the internet and seeing as it was going cheap (and I was bored), I thought what they hey and clicked a few buttons and hey presto. It landed on my doorstep with a delicate thud a few days later.

I have to illustrate this review because the book itself is illustrated - generously throughout and to charming effect. And by 'charming' I don't just mean quaint, I mean to the point where some of them give me the giggles. The example given is one of my favourites, illustrating a story about a priest gifted with the two sights who happens on a bunch of women, somewhat worse for wear in the street after selling their fish at market and investing the proceeds to lubricate their dry throats. Raucous though they are, instead of reproaching them and disapproving of them as the church elders did, the priest brings out his fiddle and plays music for them to dance to. Merriment ensues. When questioned about his conduct, the priest tells the elders why should he not follow suit of the angels who were preparing their harps in heaven for one of the women in the group (and sure enough, she died within a week). Which is a typically cheery tale of seership, it seems.

Another of the pictures worth seeing is one of a witch, topless but cupping her breasts for modesty (and almost succeeding, were it not for her generous proportions) whilst looking decidedly pissed off at the devil-like fairies who'd congregated for the annual review of all the witches, warlocks, fairies and wizards of the area at Bealltainn.

It's more of a booklet than a book - very short at around 50 pages - and with all the illustrations it's hard to tell who the book is aimed for. It's short and sweet and very straightforward, so my guess would be for older teens still in school, or as one of these fairly throw-away books that often get sold in touristy shops. Either/or, really. Its simplicity and conversational tone make it an easy read, but at the same time it's a little too simplistic to be useful in some respects; no references are given at all, except a passing mention of a particular author like Martin Martin, nor are there any page numbers or a bibliography. This is a shame because for the most part it seems to be well researched, and there are even bits that I want to follow up about bannocks being made on Lewis at Bealltainn in the twentieth century.

The book is split into three sections - the first looking at the smugglers, the second looking at the second sight (aptly enough), and the third dealing with the superstitions of the title. In this case the superstitions are concerned with the seasonal festivals, and Thompson takes a brief look St Bride's Day, Shrovetide, Yule/Hogmanay, Samhainn and Bealltainn; the lack of any mention of Lùnasdal/Lammas is odd considering it was published in 1980, though. This section and the section on the second sight are the most relevant, but the first section gives some entertaining tales and a sense of the humour that could be found in hard times. For the most part there's nothing new to see in the third section on superstitions, and it suffers a little in that Thompson seems to go with the idea of everything harking back to the druids like McNeill does in The Silver Bough, but otherwise it goes into all the usual stuff you'd expect.

I found the section on the second sight to be very informative for what it was - I'm up to speed with the Brahan Seer in a vague sort of way but this helped give me something more concrete to go on, and Thompson was keen to stress that the Brahan Seer is not the be all and end all of Scottish prophecy (hence the tale illustrated above).

If you're looking for a straightforward overview then this book fits the bill if you're willing to put up with its faults. Although if you're not that au fait with terms involved in distilling whisky, like barm, then you might want a dictionary or google handy on occasion. The lack of references is frustrating though, because otherwise it would have been a really good book to recommend for beginners, for the introductory material and then the pointers to further sources. As it is, I'd only really recommend it if you stumbled across it cheap and thought it might be good to get an idea of some of the basics of second sight and the festivals in Scotland. Really, The Silver Bough or The Gaelic Otherworld is what you want, but at least this is a lot shorter so it could serve as an experiment to see if you're interest was piqued enough to invest in more expensive books, I suppose.

Archive: Bealltainn 2009

Bealltainn's fast approaching and my thoughts are turning to what I'll be doing for it this year. Looking back on what I did last year, it all went pretty well so I'll be sticking to the same basic formula, I think. My only reservation was skimming the water from the tap last year; I knew of the practice of skimming the well in Ireland, but wasn't really sure if it was done in Scotland. I've since found mention of it in County Folklore Volume VII (page 16, if you have a burning desire to look it up yourself), with reference to Fife:

“In May, 1723, the minister informed the Session that Margaret Robertson in Byres of Balmerino had complained to him, that James Paton in Culter 'had scandalized her in her good name by saying that she went to Nine Wells on the Road-day [I.e. Rood Day, the Invention of the Cross, 3^rd May] to take away her neighbour's milk,' or, as the charge was afterwards expressed, 'to get the cream of the water, and to take away her neighbours butter.' ”

Which seems to indicate the practice had shifted to a more acceptably Christian date, like various practices appear to have done in other places, too, and accords with the idea of collecting the first skim of the water in Ireland to ensure an abundant milk supply (and general abundance) in the coming year, as well as preventing others from stealing it from you.

So that's one thing I'm more certain of. I think I'm getting the hang of the bannocks as well, but I've still got a few recipes to try out. I made a shortbread-style bannock for Latha na Caillich a few weeks back, which were well-received as offerings along with the best bits of a lamb roast. I'm going to make a different type of bannock for Bealltainn, though (I stuck to a traditional oaty one last year, which came out well, but I'd like to find something the kids like so I can share it), and today I had a trial run at it.

This time I tried Yetholm bannocks, which are like a shortbread, with a layer of crystallised ginger in the middle. They're quite sweet and the ginger gives them a yummy festive kick, which suits my tastebuds just fine, and they have a very light and crumbly texture if you try them while they're still hot. And they're supposed to be glazed with a caudle of egg yolk and milk, which seems apt for Bealltainn. They turned out pretty tasty - the tastiest I've done yet, I think, although Tom and Rosie weren't too sure. Mr Seren enjoyed his after brushing off the flaked almond; he's not that keen on almonds.

The recipe dictates that the dough should be rolled out into rectangles with the ginger sandwiched between them and they're then cut into fingers once they're cooked, but once I'd trimmed the edges to neaten them off I had plenty of dough left to make a bonnach fallaid, which I shaped into a more traditional round. I've left it as an offering outside for the Good Folk. After we all had a good taster I was going to use any leftovers for offerings to my ancestors tomorrow, on the anniversary of my Grandpa's death, but there's only one piece left so I think I'll have to make some more (what a hardship!). It's my other granddad's birthday a few days later so it seems like a good time to give myself a kick up the arse and start focusing on my ancestors a little more. Hopefully it will give me a good opportunity to think about where I should be going with this side of things.

Archive: Nitpicking, CR-style (2)

It's that time of year again...More spiritual ponderings...

Labels are a tricky thing. Sometimes they can be as liberating as they can be confining. It's good to be able to say you're something; this is where I belong, this is where I am; to be able to say you have a home, a family that you share things with and lean on when needed; be inspired by or receive a timely boot up the arse as necessary.

But generally these labels come with responsibilities. Am I doing it right? Does the label still belong? Because there's not much point clinging to a label that no longer fits. It's kinda like weariing a pair of jeans you really really like the look of even though they don't suit you and there's a serious amount of muffin top going on. It's just not attractive. And if you're not honest with yourself and others, then you're not being honourable, and how can you do honour to the gods if it's based on a lie? Because ultimately, doing the right thing is what counts; finding truth.

So then sometimes, with wanting to live up to those labels you've set upon yourself along with some high expectations, the focus comes to be on doing it right (whatever that means), and then thinking about doing it right instead of actually doing anything, just to make sure that you're going to be doing it right. Combine all that with the worry that those experiences, the thoughts and feelings that come with practice and exploring a relationship with the gods, might not be True because this is an area well out of the comfort zone of being able to Cite Your Sources: That maybe those thoughts and feelings are just what you want to hear, because it feels good to be validated sometimes, so you don't have to worry about whether or not you're just plain bonkers...Suddenly in amongst the mental jumble you've just made it all gets disconnected, the threads get lost. Maybe it's just me. Not that I tend to over-analyse or anything.

For the most part a healthy dose of Get A Grip sorts it all out, and that's something I've been working on. I do, but I don't overthink what I'm doing. I do research and find inspiration in it, rather than letting it restrict me too much by getting bogged down on the minute details (although I like exploring the minute details sometimes; the trick is making sure I don't get lost in them), and now I've got to the point where I have a rhythm of practise that takes me through each day, each season. I find that sharing what I do, and reading about what other people do also helps to keep things in perspective. Although recently I've come to realise I've been slipping into over-analysing again (or veering close to it, anyway). I realise I've been hesitating, stalling a little.

My practises are constantly evolving as I gain a better understanding of what I think reconstructionism is and how it shapes what I do; I enjoy the challenge and I find the results to be incredibly personal and meaningful. And as I do, and then think about what I've been doing, what I've experienced, I get an idea of what I still need to work on to gain a better balance in my practises. I'm not there yet (and probably just as I think I've got it I'll find I need something slightly different), but I've got to a point where I think I have the basics down, for now.

But just as I feel like I've dealt with the distractions of getting settled into a new house, somewhere I can put roots down, and a feeling of being on a firmer footing with what I'm doing here, something happens: A realisation, finding myself going off in a different and unexpected direction. And as much as it's been a good thing, part of me is left feeling all off-kilter again, like I'm just learning about all this and finding my way again. So I've gone back to feeling like I'm stumbling around in the dark a little - especially when it comes to how I see the gods and my relationship with them. At times they still feel so...nebulous. And no, I don't expect (or want) it all to be laid out in a how to manual before me: this is how you do it, this is what you should expect to happen, and this is how you know you're doing it right...But sometimes, when it's just you and Them, you start to wonder if you're really not just plain bonkers after all, especially when things don't quite go how you were expecting them to.

Just when I thought I was getting to grips with the attention of one particular goddess who seemed to be making herself known, it's all gone a bit unexpected. This winter, my first winter here, I've really been feeling like I've been making some sort of connection with the Cailleach, and given the season that all makes sense. No real surprise, and it's nice to know that I'm getting something right, it seems. Finally I'm starting to feel like I'm getting a proper footing with where I am and what I'm doing, and it all feels like it fits into this landscape and into the context of my practises. But then it gets a little confusing because my attention is drawn back to Badb and deep down I still really don't know where she fits in, but I know that she's there and she'll bide until I figure it out. I can't help but feel there's a reason for her prodding at me, and so far I haven't felt it's because I'm supposed to devote myself to her. Yet, perhaps, if ever. Whatever the future holds, there are some things I need to figure out before I get a complete picture of things, but as much as I've made some progress on finding answers, I've started to feel like I'd come to a bit of a dead end.

There've been a lot of good discussions about the place recently, here on lj and some of the lists, and combined with some questions somebody asked me, it's all put a few thoughts in motion. I was asked about how I saw things with Badb these days, and whether the sticking point for me in the past had been that she's not a goddess who 'lives' here, but in Ireland. Or whether it was the context, only a tenuous connection between there being a historical link with Badb and Scotland - as in, she could have been brought over here, but there's nothing I've seen to suggest an overt link.

I don't believe the gods are tied to a place in a literal, physical sense (solely, anyway), so I replied the latter, but that in my meanderings and somewhat tentative practises (at times, anyway, I'm still a little leery of this mysticism stuff, as I've said in the past), I'd come to realise that perhaps I was over-emphasising the differences between Ireland and Scotland rather than recognising their joint heritage. One thing that brought it all home to me is that I've been doing some writing and research about Bealltainn, and in comparing the Scottish and Irish practices the similarities are striking (but I digress...). And then there's the fact that I can't help but feel that there's some sort of connection between Badb and the Irish side of my heritage, which I've always felt a deep affection for (especially because it's through my nan's side of the family), and because Badb seems to have her origins in the area my family's from.

So then came the question, do you think that Badb's presence has anything to do with your nan's condition, given the ancestry angle? Hmm, I thought, maybe. Good question. I've been trying to work on the whole ancestry aspect of my practises because it's the one area I've been feeling I need to think about more, and express more in what I do. There's something about honouring my ancestors in general that I'm fine with in a non-specific way, but it's a different matter when I think about those I've known personally, so I feel I've been shying away from that side of things because I don't want to 'bother' them. Which is odd, really, but it's something I'm going to have to get over, and I'm working on it.

And if I consider all this, then I can't help but think that yes, maybe that's got something to do with finding how Badb fits in, because deep down I feel that there's a reason, something I haven't been getting. Maybe I need to learn more about my ancestors, and if that's the case then my nan's key to that because she's the genealogist in the family, and the more I'm confronted with the thought of losing my last living grandparent (and vaguely sane member of the family) the more I feel the need to be able to honour her properly when the time comes. Even though she'll probably hang around for another 20 years or so...

So it's all led up to a bit of an AHA! moment, because finally things are all starting to feel like it fits together. Connections are being made and a new direction has opened up, and it's all because of a handy label I stuck on myself, and a handy label that other people use too, that brought me to meet people who have given me a good shove in the right direction this time. Or so it seems. It seems to be the right way to go; "it feels good", but it also "feels Right". All in all, I can say I'm on step one. Now I just have to see if it works...

Archive: Irish Folklore - Bríd Mahon

Irish Folklore
Bríd Mahon

I've been wandering the internet looking for some good sources on folklore and practices (mostly practices, rather than folklore) and I spotted this book going cheap. After looking up the author and seeing that she's a well-respected expert on Irish folklife and traditional folktales, it seemed worth a punt.

I was hoping for a good heftty tome to arrive, but alas, what I ended up with was more like a compact and bijou glossy booklet, offering a fairly basic introduction to some of Ireland's better known tales and lore. It's good for what it is and it offers some tidbits about fairy lore and customs associated with weddings and baptisms and the like, but overall there just wasn't enough in there to really grab me.

It's very Cat'lic in tone, as a friend would probably say, so there's a lot of St Patrick and the miracles of St Brigid alongside retellings of tales like The Second Battle of Mag Tured. Written by an Irish native it gives a good feel for how the lore is taught and known in Ireland today, and the retellings of the tales give a good basic introduction to them along with the mythological landscape. It's lacking in depth, but it's a straightforward and easy read.

For someone starting out, or wanting to refresh their memories, then I think it's a good place to start if things like the Rees brothers' Celtic Heritage or Proinsias MacCana's Celtic Mythology are still a bit of a daunting prospect, but it's not nearly as useful.

Archive: Là Fhèill Bhrìghde 2009

After receiving a lovely (and surprise) package from a friend earlier this week and discovering a very sad and slightly frosty dandelion in the garden, it seemed like a good time to celebrate Là Fhèill Brighde. I'd been intending to reorganise my little shelf of Important Shiny Things because some of the plants I'd put there when I set it all up hadn't done too well in such a shady spot and I'd had to move them. So it was a fantastic coincidence when my dear friend sent me a flocked Cryptic Crow (because how good is that name? I have my very own Cryptic Crow, nyah) and a wonderful print of one of Graywolf's paintings (of a magpie). Perfect for my shelf, to represent my connection with Badb, and my connection with the spirits through my obsession with magpies. So I dug out a frame that happened to be the perfect size for the picture, and onto my shelf they went:

I've had the glass vase with polished pebbles in it for a while, not sure what to do with them, but once I'd put the crow up it seemed like the perfect place to put some offeratory herbs. All the bits and pieces are on there from the last time I posted, but I've added some amber beads around the votive glass and a red coral necklace (both traditionally having protective qualities) around the base of the crow with the prayer necklace given to me by someone very dear to me. The commemorative plaque that belonged to my granddad has the wild boar tusks from Graywolf either side, he'd appreciate that. The gorse and rowan berries are from Lùnasdal, and there's a space left for the applewood wand (I used it in my ritual for the evening, as I did last year). I also made a clay plaque, incised with a snake pattern and then painted, as a devotional offering (it's hiding behind the leaves, I think). I think I'll keep it there until I make another one for Bealltainn.

Rearranging it all took up a good chunk of my quiet time while Tom was at nursery and Rosie was napping on Wednesday, along with some sorting out some mundane things around the house. I went out to the garden to see what was left of my flower bed, too; Mungo's had pretty much everything I planted last year, so I'm going to have to replace it with nasty evil spikey things that will discourage his frolicking across it. He's ripped the top off of the rowan I planted last year but it still seems to be alive, it's got some buds starting to sprout on the trunk (but I think I'll have to thin them out a little). There were still some heathers holding on for dear life, the chamomile is thriving and some sage and hyssop were lurking quietly and trying not to be noticed. I was hoping the rosemary had survived, but no such luck, so I picked some of the white heather, hyssop and chamomile for offering to Badb and to inaugurate my newly organised shelf. I've done as much as I can do at the moment, but I think it needs some dangly possibly sparkly things. The magpie needs to feel at home, neh?

Picking Tom up from nursery, we took the dogs for a walk in the woods to see what we could see. There were still patches of snow and slush around, the gorse was in flower, a few of the trees were starting to bud, and the view was spectacular:

It never fails to grab me. When Bute and the mountains of Argyll are all hazy like that, it really is like you're looking into the Otherworld (or how I'd imagine it to be). Unfortunately, however, my sense of wonder and ponderings on such a magical view were broken by the sudden realisation that I'd left a candle burning on the shelf from when I'd made the offerings to Badb earlier. Mild panic ensued as I made a hasty retreat back home, convincing myself that the house was burning down. It wasn't, of course, and the candle had either burnt itself out or I'd remembered to blow it out after all.

Dinner followed, with roast lamb, potatoes roasted in a garlic butter, mash (mainly because some of the roasties disintegrated a little, I'd over par-boiled them), sprouts, carrots and cauliflower with a chestnut, orange and cranberry stuffing. I made enough for a plate for Bride as well, with some trepidation - does she like sprouts? It's a controversial choice of vegetable...

Once the kids were in bed, I made some more offerings to start things off, performed a saining with incense (the water I'd saved from last Bealltainn having been recently Rosie'd, but the incense seemed more appropriate for Bride anyway) and set about finishing off my dealbh Bride - I wasn't entirely happy with the result, because I was a little hampered by a lack of needle and thread and had to make do, but Rosie certainly seems to appreciate it; I nearly had to fight her for it after I stuffed it the day before. I laid it on a bed of straw and placed the apple wand with it, then went to the kitchen door and invited Bride to come in and took a while to meditate and contemplate. It's been a stressful start to the year with Tom starting nursery and not settling in too well to start with, along with several colds and a stomach bug (part of the reason why Tom freaked out, he started well but then he was sick at nursery and got scared because I wasn't there, with abandonment issues following. He's fine now, but it took a while), so with the weight of all the stress the saining and some time to really clear my head as well was welcome.

I did some divination with the ogam fews I made last year and seemed to get a good response from it. I pick three fews and read them as representing passing influences, present influences and future influences. I got hawthorn as the first pick which certainly seemed to make sense in terms of the general negativity the year seems to have started with, but the rest seemed fairly positive and seemed to indicate the saining had been effective and that my offerings so far had been accepted by Bride.

I was going to make the bannocks in the morning, but decided to make them that evening instead. This time I tried Fife bannocks, which are quite scone-ish in consistency. I was pleased with how they turned out, even if they did end up being a little overdone, and they didn't break, which was another good sign. I think I used a little bit too much milk, but they still cooked well and were easy to make.

A little relaxation followed, with a hot bannock, butter and jam, and I was off to bed, making sure the food for Bride was well out of the dogs' reach. I slept well and deeply, and I'm sure I had a very odd dream but can't remember it...As usual Tom and Rosie gave me the early morning wake up call and we had a cuddle in bed as I hoped to buy a few more minutes to ease myself into the day. The dogs seemed quiet, though, which was unusual because Mungo usually can't wait to be let out first thing, so I dragged myself out of bed and trudged downstairs to find the kitchen doors were wide open. I've no idea how that happened, unless Mungo's figured out how to unlatch two doors, and I took it as a pretty definitive sign that Bride had been...I'm guessing Mungo must've figured out some way of opening them, probably with the help on the kids fiddling with the latches with me knowing, but his timing was very apt. And I didn't give him too much of a stern look after I checked to make sure we hadn't been burgled.

Evidently Bride does like sprouts after all.