I mentioned a while ago that I was working on developing the practice of frìth in a CR context. I've been experimenting for a large part of the past year, putting my ideas into practice and seeing where it takes me, really, and while I'd got most of it decided and organised, by the time Lùnasdal came to pass I was still feeling a bit of a block as far as how the actual wording should go. I was hoping to solidify it somewhat, by then, but poetic inspiration did not hit in time. I'm not much of a poet at the best of times, to be fair, though.
I'm not really one for elaborate and formalised ritual for the most part (I'm not much of a Cat'lic as far as ritual is concerned, I guess. I like and appreciate a set, constructed kind of ritual, with each sentence having a strict and described meaning, but don't necessarily find it essential. I'd like to be Cat'lic, in that sense, I guess. But off the cuff, non-repeatable, holistic, can work too...). And having had some previous experience to inform me, I decided to go along with my usual course of action and see where it took me (i.e. wing it at the appropriate moments as far as what I was going to say). I had a vague idea of the wording, but not so much the specific wording...I hoped to improve, to find something that clicked as a definite thing to remember. So on the Monday morning right after my celebrations for Lùnasdal, before sunrise as per the descriptions I've seen, I got up and performed my devotions and went to the front door with the usual kind of prayer I offered, the door opened and the position assumed, I opened my eyes...
And saw nothing. Granted, it was ridiculously early so I was hardly likely to see anyone walk past, but I was expecting to see a bird or two or a tenacious dogwalker at least, as I'd always done before. But no. The moment clearly passed and still there was nothing - not even a breeze to move the leaves on the trees in a particular direction. I finally gave up and went back to bed, wondering what the hell went wrong. I'd felt tuned in, I'd felt I'd said and done what was needed. But nothing.
Then the kids got up, got me up, and after breakfast it was time for a shower. And then I realised I'd forgotten to remove a hairclip - my fringe needs a cut so I've been clipping it back to keep out of the way and evidently I'd forgotten to take it out before I went to bed, so I was completely oblivious to the fact when I performed my devotions to Bride, followed by offerings, and then performed the frìth itself...And the sources I've seen clearly state that the hair should be unadorned. I presume this to mean the hair being tied back, in anyway, too. Certainly that was the only real difference from previous attempts.
There have been things I've been unsure of in the past, as far as my level of success is concerned. I guess this is my first utter, inyourface, failure. I can only hope that my theory of why it went wrong is correct...I'll be having another go around the equinox, I think - hopefully this time I'll be more careful.
Saturday, 5 September 2009
Sunday, 2 August 2009
Archive: Lùnasdal 2009 - First Fruit(s)
Perhaps taking the idea more literally than necessary for the season...
What you see here is the whole of our harvest for the season so far, with the addition of some herbs that I've pruned back. A raspberry and an alpine strawberry. Astounding, isn't it?
Although this isn't technically the whole of it, seeing as there was a blueberry ready for the picking too, except Rosie nabbed it before I could stop her. She assured me it was very tasty.
To be fair though, I'm just pleased that I had something to harvest, even if it was something of a token gesture this year - the fact that all of the plants I put in to the flowerbed have survived so far is an achievement in itself, really, given the battle between the slugs and Mungo the Destroyer. I could've waited to celebrate until the other fruits had ripened (the other four blueberries then, seeing as that was all that was left after Rosie decided to pick all the others to show me that they weren't ripe yet), but there are a ton of raspberries around the village that are begging to be picked, and even three - yes three - blackberries that have ripened. That's the earliest I've ever seen them so far. I haven't found any away from the roads yet, though, so I'll wait until the ones are ready in the garden. Berries with added exhaust fumes might be a little too flavourful for my tastebuds...
It was the blackberries that decided it. I was going to celebrate on Thursday but...life intervened.
It's been a tough few weeks with Mr Seren being away for so much of the time, so he took pity on me and offered to take the kids to softplay in the afternoon so I could have a break. Rosie has a cold and fell asleep on the stairs (her favourite spot for an impromptu nap), so Mr Seren ended up taking just Tom, but it gave me the peace and quiet I needed to get my personal devotions done and the celebrations started properly (serenaded by Rosie's snoring, of course) - I started with some offerings and a Good Wish, and put the offerings and some shells I'd painted and decorated with glitter to make them look like strawberries around the outdoor space I've been working on in the garden. After much internal debating I've gone with my instincts and decided the cairn I was intending to build to finish the space off would be better to be done at Samhainn.
I collected the fruit and herbs, sained the house with the water I've saved from Bealltainn, and decorated my shelf shrine with the herbs and some rowan berries I'd collected earlier in the week. I also put a rowan charm up on the shelf that I'd made earlier in the week, too - a bigger and fancier one than I usually do, as you can see. Then I set about making some smaller charms from a small branch that had snapped off the tree in the garden - one for me to carry about, and one to hang in the bedroom. It felt good to be making them with wood from the tree I planted - my first ones. I put them in place with the charm I made last year, which seems to work well.
That's about all I managed before Rosie woke up, so after calming her down (she insisted she'd 'lost' Tom) we set about preparing our feast. The lamb was put in the oven, with the spuds peeled and par-boiled to roast in garlic butter with rosemary, and then Rosie helped me do the cranachan and some yetholm bannocks and prepare the veg (we had peas and carrots, and some romanesco, which is a rather sinister-looking vegetable, but very tasty). Rosie had a good nose around and declared my decorations "Boo'ful!" and then homed in on the fruit...Mungo later stole the remaining bannocks off the sideboard - which I hadn't got around to putting away because they were still cooling and I assumed that even Mungo wouldn't be too keen on ginger, but nooooooooo. So that was less than ideal, but at least there was enough of everything else to leave as offerings before I went to bed. Little sod. Unfortunately that wasn't the only minor disaster to happen at the paws of Mungo...
After games (the kids got a fishing game with a magazine, so we had a competition to see who could catch the most, and we played noughts and crosses, too - we were going to play cards but I realised the only one we have in the house is Mr 'Young Magician of the Year 1982' Seren's trick deck that he uses for magic tricks...) and a bath for the kids I sat down for a wee while to catch a break and relax and contemplate. It was a nice evening so there were lots of kids running around outside and I wanted to make sure things were quiet before I took the dogs out to leave some raspberries for Lug at the vantage point overlooking the sea and Argyll and Bute that I went to last year. So eventually as dusk set in, things quietened down and off I went, Eddie and Mungo in tow, as intended, and my new charm safely in my pocket.
It was close outside and I wondered if there was going to be thunder later on - you could feel the pressure building - but the air was very still as I got to the spot and got out the raspberries. There's a large grass verge there so I'd let Mungo off the lead so he could have a run around - Eddie's obsessed with walking in circles so I rarely have him on the lead unless it's necessary, but I don't trust Mungo enough to do that unless I know there won't be any cars he'll want to try and herd (he was born on a farm - you'd think he'd know the difference between giant hunks of metal and sheep, but nooooo). In spite of the fact that it was his second walk of the evening, he had a lot of energy to bounce off so I let him at it, and he happily nosed around in the bushes while Eddie danced excitedly in circles, waiting for something to happen.
I made my offerings, stood back and took in the scenery. There were a few clouds in the sky - horses' tails, how apt, I thought...The lighthouse over on Bute was flashing intermittently, catching my eye. The air was still, humid but clean and cleansing as I took a deep breath or two. All was peaceful and calm. I was thinking about how I was starting to get it, now; I've always had a hard time connecting with this festival, but I was really feeling something this time, building on my modest successes from last year and the year before and actually starting to feel some connection with Lug himself. I felt like I was being acknowledged, heard. Something was starting to fall into place - my attempts at growing some fruit, tending to them, building up to their harvesting and so on had really helped me understand things a bit more. It's not about the start or end of the season, so much as it's about continuity. With my efforts at tending to the garden it's helped to smooth everything out into a good flow - not just one festival, then another, then another, but a thread carrying on from one to the next. And this year, I've even got something to show for it, however modest the results.
And then, just as I'm starting to feel quite pleased with myself, and I'm thinking that another piece has clicked into place, something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye - there's a fox trotting across the road some distance away. Which would've been fantastic if it weren't for the fact that Mungo saw the fox too and was haring off to say hello to his newest best friend before I could catch him. In Mungo's world everyone's his best friend, and everyone wants to play, and all I can think as I'm running as fast I can and trying to call him back is that the fox is going to hand Mungo's arse to him on a plate if the stupid sod catches up and gets close enough. Thankfully the fox was far away enough to make a clean getaway and Mungo decided that rooting around in the undergrowth wasn't as much fun as he thought it would be and came back quickly. True to form, Eddie followed and ran around in small circles - not quite sure what was going on, but being excited for everyone anyway.
So if all that was supposed to be a sign, I've no idea what it portends. Maybe it was supposed to be an acknowledgment. I felt bad for the fox getting such a scare, but I was glad that nobody was hurt at least. We saw another fox (this one we see around a lot, the other I've never seen before) as we made our way home (both Mungo and Eddie firmly on their leads, this time), and she stopped briefly to look at who was coming before scurrying off on her way. She's been a constant companion these past few weeks, along with the owls and bats, hooting and dancing around as I've walked the dogs of an evening. One night I started off being serenaded by two owls (unusual, because there's only ever been one before), saw a shooting star shoot straight ahead of me, followed our fox friend pretty much the rest of the way along our route - with her leading us from a safe distance, dipping in and out of hedges - but not before finishing off with two bats flying around together. Other times I've been woken up by a chorus of crows making a godawful racket at 4am (but not before dreaming of ravens as the noise seeped into my subconscious...). There was the frog I had to shoo across the road (I didn't want it to get squished, and it seemed intent on following us, which meant heading for the busier roads), and then the giant spider I came across in the park - which frightened the life out of me at first, but not as much as the raucous squawks of something in a tree over the other side of the park that started up as I stopped to take a closer look (I like spiders and consider them to be a good sign, but this one was seriously huge and pulsated - even Mungo was unsure whether or not a quick sniff was a good idea). I thought the squawking was kids taking the piss at first, but there was nothing and nobody there. I ended up walking around to see if there was something dying on the road by the park, it was that loud and insistent. But then I realised that maybe it was just being territorial and perhaps I should take a hint...
So there have been signs agogo recently. Maybe it's just the time of year. Maybe it's all the crap that's been going on lately. Maybe I'm just expecting to see them, so I can try to make sense of everything going on at the moment, so it all has meaning. Or maybe I'm just completely missing the point...
When I got home I took some ogam to help me focus and maybe get an idea of where this was all going. I picked h-Úath, Onn and then Gort (I got the sense that the first was referring to events since Bealltainn, much of which hasn't been good, with the second suggesting my struggling to figure things out and find the right direction. The last one seemed pretty positive, but maybe I'm just grasping at optimism...). I was worried that Mungo's antics might have caused offence (though I don't think it did, seeing as he's in one piece and looking pleased with himself, and then there was the second fox we saw) so I went outside to see what the wind said. Nothing, really. So I left out the best of the dinner and headed off to bed.
I slept badly - it was still so close and I was too hot and at one point had to get up to get a blanket because I was boiling under the duvet. I always think I should make a note of the dreams I have after celebrating a festival, because there might be an important message in them, but then I always sleep soundly and don't remember much of anything. So this time was different. Thanks to my broken sleep I had lots of dreams - some of which were just snatches of images - a flash of lightning was one, probably because I was hoping for the weather to break. I had an odd dream - a mix between Prison Break and Lost (I would guess - I've never really seen either) where some men were being experimented on in a secret prison. Their prison suits were booby trapped and kept electrocuting them, but one of the prisoners was given his freedom by the Deep Purple Organisation (I know...), but it seemed that it was a ploy to mess with everybody's heads (is it a coincidence that I dyed my hair purple a few days ago? Hmm). The men tried to take their suits off but were still getting shocks, and I remember thinking there bodies were all wrong - too long and distended and bloated. I put that one down to being too hot under the duvet, with underlying stress making it more fun. The next dream was also odd. I'm sure there was something to do with a rubber snake to start with, I think I kept having to pick it up, and then I was excited because I saw some real snakes - two of them, I think. But the main part was about a woman. She came up to me, smiling (she didn't stop smiling, in fact, but I'd caught a bit of Batman earlier so maybe that had something to do with it...Except the smile wasn't sinister or wrong in some way, unlike Jack Nocholson's...), and she was wearing a dark green dress made of heavy material. She told me I needed to ask her something, so I did. I can't remember the question, but I remember I called her Bride. She gave me the answer, which I also can't remember, and then told me there was something else she needed to say. All I remember is that she told me that I need to trust, but I know she said more than that.
The kids woke me up from that one, I think - it was barely past 6am and Tom was insisting he'd had a bad dream and wanted a cuddle (though I don't know if he had, or just didn't want me to send him back to bed because it was too early), so I was a little flustered, trying to keep the dream in my head and sorting the kids out at the same time. It was Mr Seren's turn to get up with them today so at least I got some more sleep after that, and after he couldn't take it any more I got up while he went back to bed and made some Brodick bannocks for a late breakfast, which I blessed as usual. They were very tasty with jam and butter and it seemed only fitting to leave one as an offering to Bride, with some milk.
I was going to have a go at making some cheese later in the day but never got round to it - today has mostly been about tending to the lurgy'd, seeing as Mr Seren's coming down with Rosie's cold (and therefore it will obviously turn into swine flu by tomorrow, because he never takes illness with good grace) and Rosie is still in full flow of snot, phlegm and now a productive cough. Given the crappy weather it seemed like a walk through the woods was a bad idea, considering, so we'll hold off on that - I tend to take the kids out so we can spot the signs of the new season.
Aside from that though, I've done most of the things I was intending to do. All things considered I think I've received a bit of a headfuck in return...So far I'm really not sure what to make of it.
What you see here is the whole of our harvest for the season so far, with the addition of some herbs that I've pruned back. A raspberry and an alpine strawberry. Astounding, isn't it?
Although this isn't technically the whole of it, seeing as there was a blueberry ready for the picking too, except Rosie nabbed it before I could stop her. She assured me it was very tasty.
To be fair though, I'm just pleased that I had something to harvest, even if it was something of a token gesture this year - the fact that all of the plants I put in to the flowerbed have survived so far is an achievement in itself, really, given the battle between the slugs and Mungo the Destroyer. I could've waited to celebrate until the other fruits had ripened (the other four blueberries then, seeing as that was all that was left after Rosie decided to pick all the others to show me that they weren't ripe yet), but there are a ton of raspberries around the village that are begging to be picked, and even three - yes three - blackberries that have ripened. That's the earliest I've ever seen them so far. I haven't found any away from the roads yet, though, so I'll wait until the ones are ready in the garden. Berries with added exhaust fumes might be a little too flavourful for my tastebuds...
It was the blackberries that decided it. I was going to celebrate on Thursday but...life intervened.
It's been a tough few weeks with Mr Seren being away for so much of the time, so he took pity on me and offered to take the kids to softplay in the afternoon so I could have a break. Rosie has a cold and fell asleep on the stairs (her favourite spot for an impromptu nap), so Mr Seren ended up taking just Tom, but it gave me the peace and quiet I needed to get my personal devotions done and the celebrations started properly (serenaded by Rosie's snoring, of course) - I started with some offerings and a Good Wish, and put the offerings and some shells I'd painted and decorated with glitter to make them look like strawberries around the outdoor space I've been working on in the garden. After much internal debating I've gone with my instincts and decided the cairn I was intending to build to finish the space off would be better to be done at Samhainn.
I collected the fruit and herbs, sained the house with the water I've saved from Bealltainn, and decorated my shelf shrine with the herbs and some rowan berries I'd collected earlier in the week. I also put a rowan charm up on the shelf that I'd made earlier in the week, too - a bigger and fancier one than I usually do, as you can see. Then I set about making some smaller charms from a small branch that had snapped off the tree in the garden - one for me to carry about, and one to hang in the bedroom. It felt good to be making them with wood from the tree I planted - my first ones. I put them in place with the charm I made last year, which seems to work well.That's about all I managed before Rosie woke up, so after calming her down (she insisted she'd 'lost' Tom) we set about preparing our feast. The lamb was put in the oven, with the spuds peeled and par-boiled to roast in garlic butter with rosemary, and then Rosie helped me do the cranachan and some yetholm bannocks and prepare the veg (we had peas and carrots, and some romanesco, which is a rather sinister-looking vegetable, but very tasty). Rosie had a good nose around and declared my decorations "Boo'ful!" and then homed in on the fruit...Mungo later stole the remaining bannocks off the sideboard - which I hadn't got around to putting away because they were still cooling and I assumed that even Mungo wouldn't be too keen on ginger, but nooooooooo. So that was less than ideal, but at least there was enough of everything else to leave as offerings before I went to bed. Little sod. Unfortunately that wasn't the only minor disaster to happen at the paws of Mungo...
After games (the kids got a fishing game with a magazine, so we had a competition to see who could catch the most, and we played noughts and crosses, too - we were going to play cards but I realised the only one we have in the house is Mr 'Young Magician of the Year 1982' Seren's trick deck that he uses for magic tricks...) and a bath for the kids I sat down for a wee while to catch a break and relax and contemplate. It was a nice evening so there were lots of kids running around outside and I wanted to make sure things were quiet before I took the dogs out to leave some raspberries for Lug at the vantage point overlooking the sea and Argyll and Bute that I went to last year. So eventually as dusk set in, things quietened down and off I went, Eddie and Mungo in tow, as intended, and my new charm safely in my pocket.
It was close outside and I wondered if there was going to be thunder later on - you could feel the pressure building - but the air was very still as I got to the spot and got out the raspberries. There's a large grass verge there so I'd let Mungo off the lead so he could have a run around - Eddie's obsessed with walking in circles so I rarely have him on the lead unless it's necessary, but I don't trust Mungo enough to do that unless I know there won't be any cars he'll want to try and herd (he was born on a farm - you'd think he'd know the difference between giant hunks of metal and sheep, but nooooo). In spite of the fact that it was his second walk of the evening, he had a lot of energy to bounce off so I let him at it, and he happily nosed around in the bushes while Eddie danced excitedly in circles, waiting for something to happen.
I made my offerings, stood back and took in the scenery. There were a few clouds in the sky - horses' tails, how apt, I thought...The lighthouse over on Bute was flashing intermittently, catching my eye. The air was still, humid but clean and cleansing as I took a deep breath or two. All was peaceful and calm. I was thinking about how I was starting to get it, now; I've always had a hard time connecting with this festival, but I was really feeling something this time, building on my modest successes from last year and the year before and actually starting to feel some connection with Lug himself. I felt like I was being acknowledged, heard. Something was starting to fall into place - my attempts at growing some fruit, tending to them, building up to their harvesting and so on had really helped me understand things a bit more. It's not about the start or end of the season, so much as it's about continuity. With my efforts at tending to the garden it's helped to smooth everything out into a good flow - not just one festival, then another, then another, but a thread carrying on from one to the next. And this year, I've even got something to show for it, however modest the results.
And then, just as I'm starting to feel quite pleased with myself, and I'm thinking that another piece has clicked into place, something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye - there's a fox trotting across the road some distance away. Which would've been fantastic if it weren't for the fact that Mungo saw the fox too and was haring off to say hello to his newest best friend before I could catch him. In Mungo's world everyone's his best friend, and everyone wants to play, and all I can think as I'm running as fast I can and trying to call him back is that the fox is going to hand Mungo's arse to him on a plate if the stupid sod catches up and gets close enough. Thankfully the fox was far away enough to make a clean getaway and Mungo decided that rooting around in the undergrowth wasn't as much fun as he thought it would be and came back quickly. True to form, Eddie followed and ran around in small circles - not quite sure what was going on, but being excited for everyone anyway.
So if all that was supposed to be a sign, I've no idea what it portends. Maybe it was supposed to be an acknowledgment. I felt bad for the fox getting such a scare, but I was glad that nobody was hurt at least. We saw another fox (this one we see around a lot, the other I've never seen before) as we made our way home (both Mungo and Eddie firmly on their leads, this time), and she stopped briefly to look at who was coming before scurrying off on her way. She's been a constant companion these past few weeks, along with the owls and bats, hooting and dancing around as I've walked the dogs of an evening. One night I started off being serenaded by two owls (unusual, because there's only ever been one before), saw a shooting star shoot straight ahead of me, followed our fox friend pretty much the rest of the way along our route - with her leading us from a safe distance, dipping in and out of hedges - but not before finishing off with two bats flying around together. Other times I've been woken up by a chorus of crows making a godawful racket at 4am (but not before dreaming of ravens as the noise seeped into my subconscious...). There was the frog I had to shoo across the road (I didn't want it to get squished, and it seemed intent on following us, which meant heading for the busier roads), and then the giant spider I came across in the park - which frightened the life out of me at first, but not as much as the raucous squawks of something in a tree over the other side of the park that started up as I stopped to take a closer look (I like spiders and consider them to be a good sign, but this one was seriously huge and pulsated - even Mungo was unsure whether or not a quick sniff was a good idea). I thought the squawking was kids taking the piss at first, but there was nothing and nobody there. I ended up walking around to see if there was something dying on the road by the park, it was that loud and insistent. But then I realised that maybe it was just being territorial and perhaps I should take a hint...
So there have been signs agogo recently. Maybe it's just the time of year. Maybe it's all the crap that's been going on lately. Maybe I'm just expecting to see them, so I can try to make sense of everything going on at the moment, so it all has meaning. Or maybe I'm just completely missing the point...
When I got home I took some ogam to help me focus and maybe get an idea of where this was all going. I picked h-Úath, Onn and then Gort (I got the sense that the first was referring to events since Bealltainn, much of which hasn't been good, with the second suggesting my struggling to figure things out and find the right direction. The last one seemed pretty positive, but maybe I'm just grasping at optimism...). I was worried that Mungo's antics might have caused offence (though I don't think it did, seeing as he's in one piece and looking pleased with himself, and then there was the second fox we saw) so I went outside to see what the wind said. Nothing, really. So I left out the best of the dinner and headed off to bed.
I slept badly - it was still so close and I was too hot and at one point had to get up to get a blanket because I was boiling under the duvet. I always think I should make a note of the dreams I have after celebrating a festival, because there might be an important message in them, but then I always sleep soundly and don't remember much of anything. So this time was different. Thanks to my broken sleep I had lots of dreams - some of which were just snatches of images - a flash of lightning was one, probably because I was hoping for the weather to break. I had an odd dream - a mix between Prison Break and Lost (I would guess - I've never really seen either) where some men were being experimented on in a secret prison. Their prison suits were booby trapped and kept electrocuting them, but one of the prisoners was given his freedom by the Deep Purple Organisation (I know...), but it seemed that it was a ploy to mess with everybody's heads (is it a coincidence that I dyed my hair purple a few days ago? Hmm). The men tried to take their suits off but were still getting shocks, and I remember thinking there bodies were all wrong - too long and distended and bloated. I put that one down to being too hot under the duvet, with underlying stress making it more fun. The next dream was also odd. I'm sure there was something to do with a rubber snake to start with, I think I kept having to pick it up, and then I was excited because I saw some real snakes - two of them, I think. But the main part was about a woman. She came up to me, smiling (she didn't stop smiling, in fact, but I'd caught a bit of Batman earlier so maybe that had something to do with it...Except the smile wasn't sinister or wrong in some way, unlike Jack Nocholson's...), and she was wearing a dark green dress made of heavy material. She told me I needed to ask her something, so I did. I can't remember the question, but I remember I called her Bride. She gave me the answer, which I also can't remember, and then told me there was something else she needed to say. All I remember is that she told me that I need to trust, but I know she said more than that.
The kids woke me up from that one, I think - it was barely past 6am and Tom was insisting he'd had a bad dream and wanted a cuddle (though I don't know if he had, or just didn't want me to send him back to bed because it was too early), so I was a little flustered, trying to keep the dream in my head and sorting the kids out at the same time. It was Mr Seren's turn to get up with them today so at least I got some more sleep after that, and after he couldn't take it any more I got up while he went back to bed and made some Brodick bannocks for a late breakfast, which I blessed as usual. They were very tasty with jam and butter and it seemed only fitting to leave one as an offering to Bride, with some milk.
I was going to have a go at making some cheese later in the day but never got round to it - today has mostly been about tending to the lurgy'd, seeing as Mr Seren's coming down with Rosie's cold (and therefore it will obviously turn into swine flu by tomorrow, because he never takes illness with good grace) and Rosie is still in full flow of snot, phlegm and now a productive cough. Given the crappy weather it seemed like a walk through the woods was a bad idea, considering, so we'll hold off on that - I tend to take the kids out so we can spot the signs of the new season.
Aside from that though, I've done most of the things I was intending to do. All things considered I think I've received a bit of a headfuck in return...So far I'm really not sure what to make of it.
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Archive: Daily practises and other deep thoughts...
I lurk and occasionally post on a couple of the larger CR mailing lists and I have to say they're becoming less and less relevant to me these days. It's not just the fact that the same arguments tend to go round and round with alarming regularity, it's the infuriating kind of discussions that seem to be cropping up recently, and at the heart of it there's just nothing there to interest me. So mostly I skip and surf until something piques my interest. I suppose I could try and stimulate a bit of discussion that does interest me, instead of bitching quietly to myself, but I can never think of anything that I think would be good for discussion...
...Books. I can do books. But that's a little cliche, perhaps.
There was a thread not so long ago where someone asked something along the lines of "What things do you like to do to make yourself feel Celtic?" And I thought...Odd question, and I really don't know where to start with how wrong that seems to be...Maybe it was just badly phrased, maybe I wanted it to be. But it seemed to imply that the idea was to 'play Celtic' as part of CR's religious practice, and then once it's over we go about our daily business as we were. It seemed a few responses were framed in that manner, anyway. And I admit I'm probably being completely judgemental (in the bad way, because apparently you can only be judgemental if you judge negatively. Otherwise you just have great perception skills...), but it got me thinking...no. There were people who replied with the usual: language, literature, music, traditional activities like weaving tartan. And they're all good answers, to an extent, but they seemed to lack something and I began to chew on what it was that I couldn't put my finger on.
And then I think the list owner pointed out that it's not things that makes you 'Celtic', you either are or you aren't - it's who you are, not what you do. There are things you can do that are all good ways of honouring a particular culture, but that goes beyond 'being Celtic' if you want to end up being CR in a serious way that speaks to the core of your being. It goes beyond slipping these things on as is convenient, and then going back to normal, so to speak. Or even endeavering to learn music, language, arts and so forth on an ongoing, daily basis. Unless you're a part of a culture, indigenous to it, do you fully understand it? Conversely, I'd say, if you're a part of the culture should you be considered to be the fount of all knowledge...Experience says no, in that respect, because obviously personal biases come in to play. And unfortunately those biases are often based on politics and racism, it seems. As far as internet forums go. And inevitably such biases are open to taste and interpretation, too.
But then, I thought, you have to start somewhere. Most CRs don't have the benefit of having being brought up in Ireland, Scotland, Wales and so on...I've always thought that CR has been quite clear that first and foremost, it's a movement that started within the diasporal peoples, or has been hugely influenced by them at the least, and that first and foremost the emphasis should be on striving to understand those cultures as best you can. Some of those from the diaspora - CR or not - seem to be more defensive and conservative of the culture(s) than some of those who are of it/them. But most CRs don't have the benefit of spending any length of time in the particular countries that form such a large part of their cultural focus, and that can be important or not. Sometimes I wonder if, from the outside, the differences between Ireland and Scotland are really appreciated outside of those countries, in a specifically Gaelic context. Then again I think it's something I'm only really beginning to appreciate a lot more as an outsider myself.
So maybe there has to be a start somewhere, a way of incorporating these cultural elements into one's daily life until it becomes an integral part, a solid foundation to build on. Is there a scale? Where would I be on it? Does it matter? The language is something of a final frontier in that respect, for me, since my efforts at learning by myself are somewhat limited (I'm hoping to start lessons in the autumn, but there's no word yet on whether these will go ahead for this year). I can only try, even if I feel doomed to mediocrity in this respect...But I do feel it's important and integral, ultimately, to my practices. It's frustrating, sometimes, knowing how far away I am from it. But if I fail, I'd rather say I tried, and keep on plugging away at the basics.
But thinking about it further, it's interesting that many of the responses in the thread focused on doing things first, and then religious practice second (if it was mentioned at all). Maybe practice is a given. I don't know. But I would've thought that as a reconstructionist, this kind of answer would be first. It got me thinking, along with some discussions I've seen elsewhere recently about daily practises, that these really are the lynchpin of CR in many ways. It's something I've been musing on since all this cropped up in the last month or so, in various places.
These days I seem to have found myself in a good rhythm as far as my daily practises are concerned: I've been making regular offerings and every evening as I prepare for bed and make sure everything's in order I turn it into a meditation as well as an act of prayer. I do the same in the morning, as I take a pause and look out of the window to see what the day might bring, and I lift my cup of coffee to greet the crows, rooks, magpies and jackdaws that invariably hop about the garden looking for tasty treats before Mungo tries to say hello (they're not so keen). My evening walks also tend to end up being meditative, and I'm finding it all very comfortable and it all feels like second nature now. I cook; I pray; I clean; I sing; I do; I am. It's not something I have to get into the right frame of mind for now, because it's become such a part of my routine. It's how I'm living my life.
It's not something that's other anymore, it's integral. And I realise I risk sounding incredibly smug at this point, sorry. Bear with me as I ramble, I might have a point...I'm not sure yet. It's just that maybe - more than anything - I've realised that CR as a spiritual practice is so pervasive, and it should be. I don't have the benefit of those who were brought up with survivals in the diaspora, along with language and a strong and deep-seated love for one's ancestry. I grew up with a few survivals and superstitions, but these were Catholic, not appropriate to my culture and the cultural milieu I was brought up in as an agnostic/atheist and by-default-Protestant.
Like many, my love and passion for exploring my ancestry is seated within a foggy romanticism that's somewhat removed from reality. I can claim a name, or two, a heritage at some remove, but really it means very little in defining me or my beliefs. As I'm raising my kids, idealising their upbringing as much as I can as a parent who wants the best for my children, and who sees that as lying in this country, Scotland, rather than the country I was born and raised in...I'm seeing what it is to be born and raised Scottish in a new light. I know my husband; I know how he was raised. But discussing and coming to understand many of the finer points of his upbringing not so far from here gives a new perspective to how I see myself, too. I learn a lot just as my kids do. For them, it's second nature, but for me it's something to analyse to embrace but see as something incorporated rather than inherent...And yet, not incorporated. It just is. We adapt...
I was brought up as an atheist or agnostic at best, although my mother encouraged religious exploration in the hope that my sister and I might find some answers as she felt (and still feels) that she never could, or can, find. So I can claim some survivals, few and disjointed though they may have been, but they're disjointed at best - mostly through my nan's efforts to save us spiritually and give us an identity culturally.
So I can only throw myself into the idea of reconstruction of traditions, rather than traditionalism. The principles seem simple on paper, but finding a personal understanding, a rhythm, takes a bit longer, I've found. It all seems to have fallen into place when I stopped worrying about doing things properly, as I've focused on so much before, and the realisation has kinda crept up on me since I made my offerings for Midsummer last week. Rather than finding that the routine of doing, praying, being and so on gets stale and old after a while - the same thing, day in, day out - I'm finding that it's helping me to evolve my practises and outlook as a whole. I've been experimenting some more with traditional dishes (Mr Seren was particularly grateful for the gingerbread I tried) and different types of bannocks (though I still can't find any barley meal, I've been looking for ages - the barley bannocks will have to wait), and even cheese-making. In addition to this stuff, I'm finding that developing a devotional sort of ritual that I can use as a formal Good Wishing and Deiseal ritual to start off my formal festivities has been very helpful in keeping me focused and structured, somwhat. Even if Bealltainn wasn't all that focused at the time, I felt...
The blueberries and raspberries growing in the garden have given me a sense of continuity for my practices, and I think for once, when I harvest them for Lùnasdal (assuming all goes well), I'll feel a real sense of connection to the festival that I usually lack. I've finally found a sense of energy again, and my increasing focus on daily practices has given me an anchor for that. It's not something that gives me mindblowing spiritual insights everyday, but it's giving me a balance. And sometimes, maybe, there might be a bit of an aha! moment along the way. But more than anything the rhythm, the reassurrance of continuity, helps ground me.
Since Bealltainn I've been feeling a lot more positive, for some reason. Being interrupted by a dying cat on one of my meditations the other week can't be interpreted as a good sign, I suppose (and thank you for your kind words, those of you who commented or sent a nod my way in some form or another), but I think I got a few more positive ones when I went to pay my dues to Manannán last Wednesday. There were no dying cats, anyway...Although it is dead jellyfish season now, apparently.
I'm still unsure as to how the 'lesser' festivals fit in with what I do in some respects. I don't go all out like I do for the Quarter Days and sometimes I think maybe I should, so for Midsummer I decided I should at least put some thought into it, in a more structured way. It kind of snuck up on me so I didn't have a chance to do much reading up on it, so I just decided on making some offerings and finishing with a feast. Since Manannán is a god I've had a long relationship with, I started off with taking the dogs down to the beach to leave some offerings there. I've been meaning to post some photos of the village, so now seems as good a time as any...
First we head to the woods - the arboretum that was planted as part of the former estate's grounds, which is situated right in the middle of the village. There are lots of trees that have fallen over because of the soft ground, but amazingly a lot of them seem to survive:
Then we come out of the woods and take one of the back lanes through the oldest part of the village where all the ridiculously big houses are. This is a view of the woods as you leave them, looking back:
Followed by one of the grand old houses further down the lane, heading towards the sea:
Then it's down to the pebbly beach and the rock pools with the views of Bute and Argyll:
(Or just Argyll, really, in this case). And then we loop round on our way home so we get to see all the grand houses sitting up high as we walk along the coastal road:
The roof tiles on the turrets look like fish scales, which seems very apt for the locale.
I went to the beach at dusk this time, and the sun was very low and peaking dimly through the clouds. I'd brought some Pittenweem oatcakes and a generous lump of butter with me and gave it to the sea from the rocks, while Mungo went off for a frolic and Eddie went for a swim. I debated about whether or not I should give something more valuable - would it be too much, or just what was required? I didn't want to offend by giving too much or too little.
I was wearing some silver studs in the shape of shells that I bought a while ago with the idea of giving them in mind, and had put them on in case it seemed appropriate to give them after all. Given the recent stresses and worries, I decided it would be appropriate to give them after all, so they went into the sea with some heartfelt words too. There always seems to be a handy gust of wind at moments like this, that seems to acknowledge what's been given.
I stayed for a while, soaking in the seaweedy salty air and the last rays of the sun, and took a little bit of peacefulness from it all - much needed seeing as my mother was due to arrive the next day. As it began to get properly dark I built a small cairn just by the sea line, so the waves would take it as it came in, and as I looked for a white stone (which I generally put on top), one stone in particular caught my eye and I realised it was covered in fossils. It's not a fossily beach so I've no idea where it came from, but I picked it up and took it as a sign that I was being given something back. A sign of a contract, perhaps. A renewal. I've taken a photo or two, to illustrate:
It's almost heart shaped, and it's literally covered in the little fossily creatures. Of course I could be wrong. It could be dried on bird poo, or something, not fossily at all...But it seems fossily to me. Either way, I shall add it to my collection of interesting things for my water feature that incorporates representation of the three realms, in my garden (which I really need to finish at some point).
I stuck my iPod on shuffle to see what radiomancy might tell me about the future, not having my ogam fews to hand and feeling that the moment was pretty much now, not later when I'd got the dogs home and fed and so on. It started off with Janis Joplin's Half Moon - very full of three realms imagery, it seemed to me, so uncannily apt given my thought processes at the time. Then there was a break beat called Rolling Thunder, so there were no lyrics but it was very funky and I noted the naturey theme - maybe the thunderiness pointing to Lugh and therefore Lùnsadal...Thirdly came Morcheeba's The Sea. Which made me think that the gods were being a little facetious at this point, but maybe it was also meant to tell me to chill out. Relax, stop worrying!
Point taken.
I went home and made some more offerings to the spirits of the house and more immediate land, and some more specific deities like Badb, before making my way to bed, and I slept well and deeply. Mum wasn't as nearly as demanding as I'd built the whole visit up to be, after she arrived the next day (later than expected), and I cooked a roast chicken with garlic roast potatoes and veg for a celebratory feast for her first night and to celebrate the passing of Midsummer, along with some cranachan and gingerbread for afters - minus the whisky, for mum's portion. She really enjoyed it all, which was a surprise, and it was somewhat gratifying too - high praise from a properly trained cook. I put some chicken out as an offering before the dogs raided the kitchen for leftovers, and it was all gone in the morning, which was a reassuring sight to see. Mungo was pissed off, too, he was really looking forward to scarfing it all down.
So this sense of otherliness...I guess I've realised that that's not what my practices are about. I don't classify them as particularly mundane either, but still. The idea of otherworldliness and thisness is never far in Gaelic cosmology of any flavour. They overlap so heavily as to be almost the same, and yet not. So contradictory and so similar. Thinking about Manannán and what he is, where I am, how I am...It all seems to have fallen into place. Stop worrying. Maybe I might just do that. Hopefully it will take me in the right direction.
...Books. I can do books. But that's a little cliche, perhaps.
There was a thread not so long ago where someone asked something along the lines of "What things do you like to do to make yourself feel Celtic?" And I thought...Odd question, and I really don't know where to start with how wrong that seems to be...Maybe it was just badly phrased, maybe I wanted it to be. But it seemed to imply that the idea was to 'play Celtic' as part of CR's religious practice, and then once it's over we go about our daily business as we were. It seemed a few responses were framed in that manner, anyway. And I admit I'm probably being completely judgemental (in the bad way, because apparently you can only be judgemental if you judge negatively. Otherwise you just have great perception skills...), but it got me thinking...no. There were people who replied with the usual: language, literature, music, traditional activities like weaving tartan. And they're all good answers, to an extent, but they seemed to lack something and I began to chew on what it was that I couldn't put my finger on.
And then I think the list owner pointed out that it's not things that makes you 'Celtic', you either are or you aren't - it's who you are, not what you do. There are things you can do that are all good ways of honouring a particular culture, but that goes beyond 'being Celtic' if you want to end up being CR in a serious way that speaks to the core of your being. It goes beyond slipping these things on as is convenient, and then going back to normal, so to speak. Or even endeavering to learn music, language, arts and so forth on an ongoing, daily basis. Unless you're a part of a culture, indigenous to it, do you fully understand it? Conversely, I'd say, if you're a part of the culture should you be considered to be the fount of all knowledge...Experience says no, in that respect, because obviously personal biases come in to play. And unfortunately those biases are often based on politics and racism, it seems. As far as internet forums go. And inevitably such biases are open to taste and interpretation, too.
But then, I thought, you have to start somewhere. Most CRs don't have the benefit of having being brought up in Ireland, Scotland, Wales and so on...I've always thought that CR has been quite clear that first and foremost, it's a movement that started within the diasporal peoples, or has been hugely influenced by them at the least, and that first and foremost the emphasis should be on striving to understand those cultures as best you can. Some of those from the diaspora - CR or not - seem to be more defensive and conservative of the culture(s) than some of those who are of it/them. But most CRs don't have the benefit of spending any length of time in the particular countries that form such a large part of their cultural focus, and that can be important or not. Sometimes I wonder if, from the outside, the differences between Ireland and Scotland are really appreciated outside of those countries, in a specifically Gaelic context. Then again I think it's something I'm only really beginning to appreciate a lot more as an outsider myself.
So maybe there has to be a start somewhere, a way of incorporating these cultural elements into one's daily life until it becomes an integral part, a solid foundation to build on. Is there a scale? Where would I be on it? Does it matter? The language is something of a final frontier in that respect, for me, since my efforts at learning by myself are somewhat limited (I'm hoping to start lessons in the autumn, but there's no word yet on whether these will go ahead for this year). I can only try, even if I feel doomed to mediocrity in this respect...But I do feel it's important and integral, ultimately, to my practices. It's frustrating, sometimes, knowing how far away I am from it. But if I fail, I'd rather say I tried, and keep on plugging away at the basics.
But thinking about it further, it's interesting that many of the responses in the thread focused on doing things first, and then religious practice second (if it was mentioned at all). Maybe practice is a given. I don't know. But I would've thought that as a reconstructionist, this kind of answer would be first. It got me thinking, along with some discussions I've seen elsewhere recently about daily practises, that these really are the lynchpin of CR in many ways. It's something I've been musing on since all this cropped up in the last month or so, in various places.
These days I seem to have found myself in a good rhythm as far as my daily practises are concerned: I've been making regular offerings and every evening as I prepare for bed and make sure everything's in order I turn it into a meditation as well as an act of prayer. I do the same in the morning, as I take a pause and look out of the window to see what the day might bring, and I lift my cup of coffee to greet the crows, rooks, magpies and jackdaws that invariably hop about the garden looking for tasty treats before Mungo tries to say hello (they're not so keen). My evening walks also tend to end up being meditative, and I'm finding it all very comfortable and it all feels like second nature now. I cook; I pray; I clean; I sing; I do; I am. It's not something I have to get into the right frame of mind for now, because it's become such a part of my routine. It's how I'm living my life.
It's not something that's other anymore, it's integral. And I realise I risk sounding incredibly smug at this point, sorry. Bear with me as I ramble, I might have a point...I'm not sure yet. It's just that maybe - more than anything - I've realised that CR as a spiritual practice is so pervasive, and it should be. I don't have the benefit of those who were brought up with survivals in the diaspora, along with language and a strong and deep-seated love for one's ancestry. I grew up with a few survivals and superstitions, but these were Catholic, not appropriate to my culture and the cultural milieu I was brought up in as an agnostic/atheist and by-default-Protestant.
Like many, my love and passion for exploring my ancestry is seated within a foggy romanticism that's somewhat removed from reality. I can claim a name, or two, a heritage at some remove, but really it means very little in defining me or my beliefs. As I'm raising my kids, idealising their upbringing as much as I can as a parent who wants the best for my children, and who sees that as lying in this country, Scotland, rather than the country I was born and raised in...I'm seeing what it is to be born and raised Scottish in a new light. I know my husband; I know how he was raised. But discussing and coming to understand many of the finer points of his upbringing not so far from here gives a new perspective to how I see myself, too. I learn a lot just as my kids do. For them, it's second nature, but for me it's something to analyse to embrace but see as something incorporated rather than inherent...And yet, not incorporated. It just is. We adapt...
I was brought up as an atheist or agnostic at best, although my mother encouraged religious exploration in the hope that my sister and I might find some answers as she felt (and still feels) that she never could, or can, find. So I can claim some survivals, few and disjointed though they may have been, but they're disjointed at best - mostly through my nan's efforts to save us spiritually and give us an identity culturally.
So I can only throw myself into the idea of reconstruction of traditions, rather than traditionalism. The principles seem simple on paper, but finding a personal understanding, a rhythm, takes a bit longer, I've found. It all seems to have fallen into place when I stopped worrying about doing things properly, as I've focused on so much before, and the realisation has kinda crept up on me since I made my offerings for Midsummer last week. Rather than finding that the routine of doing, praying, being and so on gets stale and old after a while - the same thing, day in, day out - I'm finding that it's helping me to evolve my practises and outlook as a whole. I've been experimenting some more with traditional dishes (Mr Seren was particularly grateful for the gingerbread I tried) and different types of bannocks (though I still can't find any barley meal, I've been looking for ages - the barley bannocks will have to wait), and even cheese-making. In addition to this stuff, I'm finding that developing a devotional sort of ritual that I can use as a formal Good Wishing and Deiseal ritual to start off my formal festivities has been very helpful in keeping me focused and structured, somwhat. Even if Bealltainn wasn't all that focused at the time, I felt...
The blueberries and raspberries growing in the garden have given me a sense of continuity for my practices, and I think for once, when I harvest them for Lùnasdal (assuming all goes well), I'll feel a real sense of connection to the festival that I usually lack. I've finally found a sense of energy again, and my increasing focus on daily practices has given me an anchor for that. It's not something that gives me mindblowing spiritual insights everyday, but it's giving me a balance. And sometimes, maybe, there might be a bit of an aha! moment along the way. But more than anything the rhythm, the reassurrance of continuity, helps ground me.
Since Bealltainn I've been feeling a lot more positive, for some reason. Being interrupted by a dying cat on one of my meditations the other week can't be interpreted as a good sign, I suppose (and thank you for your kind words, those of you who commented or sent a nod my way in some form or another), but I think I got a few more positive ones when I went to pay my dues to Manannán last Wednesday. There were no dying cats, anyway...Although it is dead jellyfish season now, apparently.
I'm still unsure as to how the 'lesser' festivals fit in with what I do in some respects. I don't go all out like I do for the Quarter Days and sometimes I think maybe I should, so for Midsummer I decided I should at least put some thought into it, in a more structured way. It kind of snuck up on me so I didn't have a chance to do much reading up on it, so I just decided on making some offerings and finishing with a feast. Since Manannán is a god I've had a long relationship with, I started off with taking the dogs down to the beach to leave some offerings there. I've been meaning to post some photos of the village, so now seems as good a time as any...
First we head to the woods - the arboretum that was planted as part of the former estate's grounds, which is situated right in the middle of the village. There are lots of trees that have fallen over because of the soft ground, but amazingly a lot of them seem to survive:
Then we come out of the woods and take one of the back lanes through the oldest part of the village where all the ridiculously big houses are. This is a view of the woods as you leave them, looking back:
Followed by one of the grand old houses further down the lane, heading towards the sea:
Then it's down to the pebbly beach and the rock pools with the views of Bute and Argyll:
(Or just Argyll, really, in this case). And then we loop round on our way home so we get to see all the grand houses sitting up high as we walk along the coastal road:
The roof tiles on the turrets look like fish scales, which seems very apt for the locale.
I went to the beach at dusk this time, and the sun was very low and peaking dimly through the clouds. I'd brought some Pittenweem oatcakes and a generous lump of butter with me and gave it to the sea from the rocks, while Mungo went off for a frolic and Eddie went for a swim. I debated about whether or not I should give something more valuable - would it be too much, or just what was required? I didn't want to offend by giving too much or too little.
I was wearing some silver studs in the shape of shells that I bought a while ago with the idea of giving them in mind, and had put them on in case it seemed appropriate to give them after all. Given the recent stresses and worries, I decided it would be appropriate to give them after all, so they went into the sea with some heartfelt words too. There always seems to be a handy gust of wind at moments like this, that seems to acknowledge what's been given.
I stayed for a while, soaking in the seaweedy salty air and the last rays of the sun, and took a little bit of peacefulness from it all - much needed seeing as my mother was due to arrive the next day. As it began to get properly dark I built a small cairn just by the sea line, so the waves would take it as it came in, and as I looked for a white stone (which I generally put on top), one stone in particular caught my eye and I realised it was covered in fossils. It's not a fossily beach so I've no idea where it came from, but I picked it up and took it as a sign that I was being given something back. A sign of a contract, perhaps. A renewal. I've taken a photo or two, to illustrate:
It's almost heart shaped, and it's literally covered in the little fossily creatures. Of course I could be wrong. It could be dried on bird poo, or something, not fossily at all...But it seems fossily to me. Either way, I shall add it to my collection of interesting things for my water feature that incorporates representation of the three realms, in my garden (which I really need to finish at some point).
I stuck my iPod on shuffle to see what radiomancy might tell me about the future, not having my ogam fews to hand and feeling that the moment was pretty much now, not later when I'd got the dogs home and fed and so on. It started off with Janis Joplin's Half Moon - very full of three realms imagery, it seemed to me, so uncannily apt given my thought processes at the time. Then there was a break beat called Rolling Thunder, so there were no lyrics but it was very funky and I noted the naturey theme - maybe the thunderiness pointing to Lugh and therefore Lùnsadal...Thirdly came Morcheeba's The Sea. Which made me think that the gods were being a little facetious at this point, but maybe it was also meant to tell me to chill out. Relax, stop worrying!
Point taken.
I went home and made some more offerings to the spirits of the house and more immediate land, and some more specific deities like Badb, before making my way to bed, and I slept well and deeply. Mum wasn't as nearly as demanding as I'd built the whole visit up to be, after she arrived the next day (later than expected), and I cooked a roast chicken with garlic roast potatoes and veg for a celebratory feast for her first night and to celebrate the passing of Midsummer, along with some cranachan and gingerbread for afters - minus the whisky, for mum's portion. She really enjoyed it all, which was a surprise, and it was somewhat gratifying too - high praise from a properly trained cook. I put some chicken out as an offering before the dogs raided the kitchen for leftovers, and it was all gone in the morning, which was a reassuring sight to see. Mungo was pissed off, too, he was really looking forward to scarfing it all down.
So this sense of otherliness...I guess I've realised that that's not what my practices are about. I don't classify them as particularly mundane either, but still. The idea of otherworldliness and thisness is never far in Gaelic cosmology of any flavour. They overlap so heavily as to be almost the same, and yet not. So contradictory and so similar. Thinking about Manannán and what he is, where I am, how I am...It all seems to have fallen into place. Stop worrying. Maybe I might just do that. Hopefully it will take me in the right direction.
Tuesday, 2 June 2009
Archive: Irish Folk Custom and Belief - Séan Ó Súilleabháin
Irish Folk Custom and Belief
Séan Ó Súilleabháin
I've been looking for a good book on Irish folk customs for ages and in some ways this book fits the bill perfectly (it does what it says on the tin), but in others it's slightly lacking from my perspective because I really wanted more detail. I want a book with some depth, but this book is very much not about depth. It's short and sweet, but it does a good job of introducing the key points of the subject it deals with. So yes, it's very short - less than A5 in size and only about 100 pages or so long - but it packs a lot of stuff in.
On the one hand, there were quite a few tidbits that I found very useful - he gives an example of a smooring prayer that Dames also gave, for example, but here it seems more complete and it's obvious where Ó Súilleabháin got it from. On the other, it covered a lot of familiar ground, which at least helped me get a good grounding in where he was coming from and whether he's reliable as a source or not. It seems he is, but like most books of this type, he doesn't give references. But unlike Dames, however, Ó Súilleabháin's background and style of writing inspires a bit more confidence in the content of his work, I think.
Ó Súilleabháin writes in an easy and conversational tone, but puts across his points about what folklore is and how it should be interpreted (from his point of view, at least) well. And to Ó Súilleabháin's credit, he gives the Irish and then his own translation whenever he quotes something that was originally recorded in Gaelige. Seeing as the book's so short it only skims the surface of the subjects it deals with, but given the style of writing as well as its content, Ó Súilleabháin covers his bases and then some (to a point). While he left me wanting more, it was in a good way - or not, seeing as I definitely want to save up for his A Handbook of Irish Folkore now (clocking in at nearly 700 pages and based on his work with the Irish Folklore Commission, and extremely expensive to buy, to boot. And I could get it from the library, but I need books on my shelf, y'see).
He's clear on the points where he doesn't go into too much detail - either because of space constraints, or the fact of repetition because he's gone into the subject in more detail in a separate book - and this is a good thing because at least you know it's not all there is to know...An extensive bibliiography, or references would have been nice, though. As it is, there's a limited bibliography and that's about it. And as well as all this, while I personally appreciate his very logical and analytical interpretation of folk belief at times, I think some may find him overly so in his interpretations. I don't always agree with these interpretations, but he seems to make his bias clear at least. If the book was written today, he wouldn't have used the phrase 'primitve society' so much, anyway...
Ó Súilleabháin covers things like the Otherworld, festivals, charms, healing, and everyday life, which is just the sort of thing I was interested in as a beginner, and while E Estyn Evans' Irish Folkways covers a lot of the same thing - both with illustrations, too - Ó Súilleabháin is much more succinct about everything. Evans gives the detail, but often to the point where you might start crying with boredom if you keep ploughing through...As an introductory sort of book, then, this fits the bill, I'd say - much more so than Evans, although the quality of his work, at least, is impressive.
Although I want more, I also think it's a shame that Scottish practices don't have nearly the same sort of calibre of introductory level work. I would recommend this to someone who's a beginner, who wants a solid grounding in the basics before moving on to the more in depth and daunting tomes. I think it falls short in the details in some places, but ultimately it gives far more than it lacks. And really, I think I might just have to splurge on everything else he's written.
Séan Ó Súilleabháin
I've been looking for a good book on Irish folk customs for ages and in some ways this book fits the bill perfectly (it does what it says on the tin), but in others it's slightly lacking from my perspective because I really wanted more detail. I want a book with some depth, but this book is very much not about depth. It's short and sweet, but it does a good job of introducing the key points of the subject it deals with. So yes, it's very short - less than A5 in size and only about 100 pages or so long - but it packs a lot of stuff in.
On the one hand, there were quite a few tidbits that I found very useful - he gives an example of a smooring prayer that Dames also gave, for example, but here it seems more complete and it's obvious where Ó Súilleabháin got it from. On the other, it covered a lot of familiar ground, which at least helped me get a good grounding in where he was coming from and whether he's reliable as a source or not. It seems he is, but like most books of this type, he doesn't give references. But unlike Dames, however, Ó Súilleabháin's background and style of writing inspires a bit more confidence in the content of his work, I think.
Ó Súilleabháin writes in an easy and conversational tone, but puts across his points about what folklore is and how it should be interpreted (from his point of view, at least) well. And to Ó Súilleabháin's credit, he gives the Irish and then his own translation whenever he quotes something that was originally recorded in Gaelige. Seeing as the book's so short it only skims the surface of the subjects it deals with, but given the style of writing as well as its content, Ó Súilleabháin covers his bases and then some (to a point). While he left me wanting more, it was in a good way - or not, seeing as I definitely want to save up for his A Handbook of Irish Folkore now (clocking in at nearly 700 pages and based on his work with the Irish Folklore Commission, and extremely expensive to buy, to boot. And I could get it from the library, but I need books on my shelf, y'see).
He's clear on the points where he doesn't go into too much detail - either because of space constraints, or the fact of repetition because he's gone into the subject in more detail in a separate book - and this is a good thing because at least you know it's not all there is to know...An extensive bibliiography, or references would have been nice, though. As it is, there's a limited bibliography and that's about it. And as well as all this, while I personally appreciate his very logical and analytical interpretation of folk belief at times, I think some may find him overly so in his interpretations. I don't always agree with these interpretations, but he seems to make his bias clear at least. If the book was written today, he wouldn't have used the phrase 'primitve society' so much, anyway...
Ó Súilleabháin covers things like the Otherworld, festivals, charms, healing, and everyday life, which is just the sort of thing I was interested in as a beginner, and while E Estyn Evans' Irish Folkways covers a lot of the same thing - both with illustrations, too - Ó Súilleabháin is much more succinct about everything. Evans gives the detail, but often to the point where you might start crying with boredom if you keep ploughing through...As an introductory sort of book, then, this fits the bill, I'd say - much more so than Evans, although the quality of his work, at least, is impressive.
Although I want more, I also think it's a shame that Scottish practices don't have nearly the same sort of calibre of introductory level work. I would recommend this to someone who's a beginner, who wants a solid grounding in the basics before moving on to the more in depth and daunting tomes. I think it falls short in the details in some places, but ultimately it gives far more than it lacks. And really, I think I might just have to splurge on everything else he's written.
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Archive: A post-Bealltainn post
There were some things I didn't have time to get round to doing before the actual day, but I'm hoping to get them finished in the next couple of weeks before the Old Style Bealltainn, at least.
One of them is the garden, but the weather's against me so there's not a lot I can do about that at the moment. I've managed to do some more planting and mowed the lawn, but that's it. We went south into Ayrshire on Sunday on the one day it wasn't raining as much, and took the kids to the beach to fly a kite - Mr Seren's first ever attempt, as well as Tom and Rosie's. The beach at Saltcoats was beautiful - a huge flat expanse of sand - so it was perfect for running around with the kite, but unfortunately I didn't take the camera with me. Saltcoats seemed to be a lovely town, in a ghostly, half-abandoned kind of way. Years ago in its heyday it was one of the places to go on holiday for the workers in Glasgow and the surrounding area. During the Glasgow Fair every July, when the factories would shut down for two weeks, the workers and their families would descend en masse on the Ayrshire coastal towns like Saltcoats, but the cheap flights abroad and Maggie Thatcher killing off most of the industries in the area put paid to all that and these towns began to fade and wither. In spite of the fact that it was a bank holiday weekend there wasn't much open in the town, so we stopped off for lunch at a Garden Centre on the main road on our way back home and had a bite to eat at the cafe and a nose around the shop.
I resisted the tasteful giant gnomes (and was disappointed at the lack of tasteful giant mushrooms), but picked up a raspberry bush to go with the blueberry I've already got, a couple of junipers, a poppy, and some evergreen type bushes to fill in a few gaps, along with some red chipped glass pieces with an idea of doing something with them, but I'm not sure what yet...It was still sunny when we got home, so I set about mowing and did a bit of weeding and got most of the plants in before the rain came. One of the junipers and the poppy went around the puddle pond, and the raspberry went wherever it would fit, and I did some weeding and managed to break up the soil a bit more and dug some organic plant food and compost into it; hopefully that will condition the soil a bit, it really needs it. I still have some planting to do and I need to finish the lawn, and I'm contemplating buying some strawberries to plant as well.
For my celebrations at Là Fhèill Brìghde I made a devotional sort of plaque out of modelling clay, with a snake incised on it, which I then painted and varnished. I was intending to make one for Bealltainn but I've yet to be inspired so I'm still thinking about it for now. Since Christmas I've been making some seasonal murals with the kids - nature-themed, so not overtly religious (in respect for Mr Seren), but containing elements that are significant to me, that I can talk about with the kids. Well, the last two have been, the ones we did in December were paper snowflakes decorated with glitter (which is when I hit idea of doing them for each season as something I could do with the kids). For Là Fhèill Brìghde we did a 'spring flower' theme. Rosie and I did daffodils, and Rosie did dandelions (for Bride), and Tom..."made purple":
(Some of the snowflakes providing a backdrop for my inaugural use of the coffee grinder I got for Christmas. Sad, I know).
I was feeling a little uninspired for a summery theme until we did some painting yesterday and Tom started doing 'butterflies' by painting splodges onto the paper and then folding it in half. So I decided butterflies were very summery and we set to it. I drew the butterfly shapes, covered them in glue and then the kids decorated them with glitter, pom poms and pipe cleaners. Tom tried a feather butterfly, too. And then they covered the background with the flowery paper to tasteful effect...Rosie helped with the Otherworldly grass and fabric flowers that were going spare while Tom mostly ran around in circles being shrill because it was so exciting!!!!
The result is very Tasteful, I think you'll agree:
But it certainly brightens up the place. I've been putting the pictures up in the kitchen, against the wall that can be seen from the front door and hallway, so it gives a cheery view when you walk in. It's a bit of a dead space otherwise, that's home to the fruit bowl and generally any crap that doesn't have a home for the minute, so it's a good excuse to keep things clear.
Continuing the crafty theme, I've also made a hob house as a friend suggested...How better to give good hospitality, than give a proper place, specially for them? I've been looking for a hob house for a while (after seeing Judith's) but it never occurred to me to make one until now, so while the kids were doing play-doh the other day, I decided to join in with the modelling clay; it's handy having kids sometimes, the tree shaped cutter and the butterfly shape that came with the play-doh factory were put to good use:
Painting it gave me something to do while Mr Seren was away dahn sahf, and I have to admit I'm quite pleased (surprised) with how it turned out, although it's a shame the butterfly 'bled' as I varnished. I thought about putting it on the kitchen windowsill but I think it would get damaged there, so now it's dried out it's taken pride of place on my shelf where it won't get poked and prodded at and hopefully, with some regular offerings, it will make a good home for somebody and then maybe the remote control will stop going missing for no apparent reason, and things will stay where I left them...Thinking about it I probably should have moulded some sort of dish into it somewhere, so I could pour some milk into it as an offering, but maybe not; then I'd have to keep disturbing it to keep it clean and my honoured guest probably wouldn't appreciate that. I shall have to find something appropriate to put next to it for that, instead, but I'm not sure what yet. I'll see how it goes.
One of them is the garden, but the weather's against me so there's not a lot I can do about that at the moment. I've managed to do some more planting and mowed the lawn, but that's it. We went south into Ayrshire on Sunday on the one day it wasn't raining as much, and took the kids to the beach to fly a kite - Mr Seren's first ever attempt, as well as Tom and Rosie's. The beach at Saltcoats was beautiful - a huge flat expanse of sand - so it was perfect for running around with the kite, but unfortunately I didn't take the camera with me. Saltcoats seemed to be a lovely town, in a ghostly, half-abandoned kind of way. Years ago in its heyday it was one of the places to go on holiday for the workers in Glasgow and the surrounding area. During the Glasgow Fair every July, when the factories would shut down for two weeks, the workers and their families would descend en masse on the Ayrshire coastal towns like Saltcoats, but the cheap flights abroad and Maggie Thatcher killing off most of the industries in the area put paid to all that and these towns began to fade and wither. In spite of the fact that it was a bank holiday weekend there wasn't much open in the town, so we stopped off for lunch at a Garden Centre on the main road on our way back home and had a bite to eat at the cafe and a nose around the shop.
I resisted the tasteful giant gnomes (and was disappointed at the lack of tasteful giant mushrooms), but picked up a raspberry bush to go with the blueberry I've already got, a couple of junipers, a poppy, and some evergreen type bushes to fill in a few gaps, along with some red chipped glass pieces with an idea of doing something with them, but I'm not sure what yet...It was still sunny when we got home, so I set about mowing and did a bit of weeding and got most of the plants in before the rain came. One of the junipers and the poppy went around the puddle pond, and the raspberry went wherever it would fit, and I did some weeding and managed to break up the soil a bit more and dug some organic plant food and compost into it; hopefully that will condition the soil a bit, it really needs it. I still have some planting to do and I need to finish the lawn, and I'm contemplating buying some strawberries to plant as well.
For my celebrations at Là Fhèill Brìghde I made a devotional sort of plaque out of modelling clay, with a snake incised on it, which I then painted and varnished. I was intending to make one for Bealltainn but I've yet to be inspired so I'm still thinking about it for now. Since Christmas I've been making some seasonal murals with the kids - nature-themed, so not overtly religious (in respect for Mr Seren), but containing elements that are significant to me, that I can talk about with the kids. Well, the last two have been, the ones we did in December were paper snowflakes decorated with glitter (which is when I hit idea of doing them for each season as something I could do with the kids). For Là Fhèill Brìghde we did a 'spring flower' theme. Rosie and I did daffodils, and Rosie did dandelions (for Bride), and Tom..."made purple":
(Some of the snowflakes providing a backdrop for my inaugural use of the coffee grinder I got for Christmas. Sad, I know).
I was feeling a little uninspired for a summery theme until we did some painting yesterday and Tom started doing 'butterflies' by painting splodges onto the paper and then folding it in half. So I decided butterflies were very summery and we set to it. I drew the butterfly shapes, covered them in glue and then the kids decorated them with glitter, pom poms and pipe cleaners. Tom tried a feather butterfly, too. And then they covered the background with the flowery paper to tasteful effect...Rosie helped with the Otherworldly grass and fabric flowers that were going spare while Tom mostly ran around in circles being shrill because it was so exciting!!!!
The result is very Tasteful, I think you'll agree:
But it certainly brightens up the place. I've been putting the pictures up in the kitchen, against the wall that can be seen from the front door and hallway, so it gives a cheery view when you walk in. It's a bit of a dead space otherwise, that's home to the fruit bowl and generally any crap that doesn't have a home for the minute, so it's a good excuse to keep things clear.
Continuing the crafty theme, I've also made a hob house as a friend suggested...How better to give good hospitality, than give a proper place, specially for them? I've been looking for a hob house for a while (after seeing Judith's) but it never occurred to me to make one until now, so while the kids were doing play-doh the other day, I decided to join in with the modelling clay; it's handy having kids sometimes, the tree shaped cutter and the butterfly shape that came with the play-doh factory were put to good use:
Painting it gave me something to do while Mr Seren was away dahn sahf, and I have to admit I'm quite pleased (surprised) with how it turned out, although it's a shame the butterfly 'bled' as I varnished. I thought about putting it on the kitchen windowsill but I think it would get damaged there, so now it's dried out it's taken pride of place on my shelf where it won't get poked and prodded at and hopefully, with some regular offerings, it will make a good home for somebody and then maybe the remote control will stop going missing for no apparent reason, and things will stay where I left them...Thinking about it I probably should have moulded some sort of dish into it somewhere, so I could pour some milk into it as an offering, but maybe not; then I'd have to keep disturbing it to keep it clean and my honoured guest probably wouldn't appreciate that. I shall have to find something appropriate to put next to it for that, instead, but I'm not sure what yet. I'll see how it goes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)