wash me in the waters

Bathe me in the waters of the Lagan, of the Boyne
Of the Liffey of the Slaney, of the Barrow, Nore and Suir
Of the Blackwater, the Bann, the Lee, the Shannon, Foyle and Erne
Bathe me in the waters...

— Susan McKeown, River

a ghrian nan tràth

The fog is thick and hugs close to the trees, giving everything an aura of blue-gray. A warm cuppa clasped in my hands does the duty of keeping me awake and focused on the task at hand: witnessing Grianstad an Gheimhridh (the winter solstice) sunrise.

As the dawn descends upon the world, the shade goes from blue-gray to pale gray. The sun has some time yet until it has pierced the horizon above the hilly land. Geese take their first flight of the morn and the crow speaks of the day, as my heart sings the praises of Grian, of my ancestors and of those fellow few who walk this path with me.

Yet, despite the sunrise here, my mind cannot help but travel o’er the ocean to Brú na Bóinne (Newgrange) of Ireland, which just six hours ago the rays of Griannan / An Grían Béag (‘the little sun’) pierced the tunnel of the tomb. A song from the Carmina Gadelica (#316) comes to mind:

Fàilte ort féin, a ghrian nan tràth,
‘S tu siubhail ard nan speur;
Do cheumaibh treun air sgéith nan ard,
‘S tu màthair àigh nan reul.

Thu laighe sìos an cuan na dìth
Gun dìobhail is gun sgàth,
Thu ‘g éirigh suas air stuagh na sìth,
Mar rìoghain òg fo bhlàth.

(I welcome you, sun of the seasons,
As you travel the skies aloft;
Your steps are strong on the wing of the heavens,
You are the glorious mother of the stars.

You descend into the deadly sea
Without distress and without fear;
You rise up on the wave of peace,
Like a youthful Queen in bloom.)

May we all descend each night into the deadly sea without distress and fear, and rise with light upon our paths.

Meán Geimhridh Shona daoibh!

My Imbolc Observance

Yesterday was spent at Cheaha State Park with the family. Later on that evening, I decided to make some barley bread both for offering and for breakfast on Sunday. It failed horribly, lol. I’m not sure what I did wrong but it came out like a brick, so I wrapped it up to crumble up later and give it to the birds. By the time I was finished with that and did the dishes to be sure the kitchen was clean to receive Bríd, it was really late so I decided to call it a night and get up early Sunday and begin working on another offering.

Before bed, I “lit” the electric candle I have for her, repeating A Brighid, scars os mo chionn / Do bhrat fionn dom anacal* as I lay down to sleep.

I awoke up around 7:30am this morning and did the routine cleaning my face and etcetera. I was up before the rest of the family, so I started the coffee pot and began gathering the ingredients for the tea cake. I made two, one for everyone to eat that morning and one mainly to give an offering from, and whatever was left for the extended family coming over after church.

Once they were off to church, I lit the oil burner and said Ultan’s Hymn to Brigit** [in English since I‘m not sure on Old Irish pronunciation]. I then went outside to gather from fresh juniper and performed the An Liuthail rite. Afterward, I warmed some milk and mixed in some honey, allowing the honey to melt. Once done, I came to the altar in my bedroom and poured it into the offering bowl, saying: Bríd breo bithbbhuan***. I walked outside and found some dandelions in bloom, so I picked those for Her and placed them on the altar as well.

Nothing fancy but very meaningful to me, at least.


____________________________________________
* O Brighid, spread over my head / Your bright mantle to guard me

** Brigit be bithmaith [Brigit everfine lady,]
breo orda oiblech, [golden sparkling flame]
don-fe do'n bithlaith [may she lead us to eternal day,]
in grian tind taidleach [the fiery radiant sun!]

*** Glory everlasting to Brigit the fiery!