Ah, camping. How I've missed thee.

It felt wonderful to actually be up when the sun rose this morning. I'm a night owl, so I'm rarely up that early.

But there I was sitting, wrapped in a blanket whilst tending the fire as the sun broke over the trees, silently repeating 'Hail to thee, thou sun of the seasons' to myself. Must do that more often. Sit on the porch with a nice cuppa and greet the sun each morning. Mmm, sounds lovely.

Project Ogham

I’ve decided that I really want (need) to begin working with the ogham on a much deeper level. I’m not sure exactly how this is going to work out, in regards to what methods I’ll be using, or if I‘ll be doing them in order, but I know I want to focus on one feda (letter) a month. However, instead of focusing solely on the crann ogham (tree ogham), I’m going to combine it with the éan ogham (bird ogham). Why? I have three reasons actually:

1. I have the sneaking suspicion that more abounds about the lore of trees than birds (both here in my locale and in the Gaelic countries) and I don’t want to miss out on the copious amounts I could learn from there.
2. I have a strong affinity with our feathered friends, and here in our tiny valley (which I‘ve aptly named Gleann Préachán, or ‘Valley of the Crows‘, though sometimes I call it Gleann hÉanlaith, ‘Valley of the Birds‘) it is positively teeming with their presence and song. Being near them makes me happy, and I often sit on the porch and talk to the ones that fly up to me.
3. To me, birds and trees are simpatico (able to exist and perform in harmonious or agreeable combination). Birds, though not all, reside in the sheltering arms of the tree and some depend on them for sustenance—berries, nuts, fruits, sap, bugs under bark, and acorns. In turn, some trees rely on birds—the and wind—for cross pollination and to help in perpetuating their life cycle by knocking fruits to the ground which germinates seeds.

When I see birds, I think of trees and vice versa. It just feels right to focus on them both. Since I am focusing on two things during the span of one month, I know this is a cycle I’ll be repeating numerous times (if not for the duration of my life) in order to learn all I can from them. The first cycle, however, will be documented here—though not fully. There is a great deal, I’m sure, that will remain with me or shared only with friends.

Also, I do realize some modifications might have to be made for trees or birds that are not in my area, but I want to try as hard as I can to keep that to a minimum. Our land is part of the Appalachian foothills, which scientists have said were once a part of the Caledonian mountain range in Scotland before the continents broke apart, so I’m hoping there will be things in common.

I'm still culling the resources I will use for this project, so more on this later.

PSA: oh, the lack of research hurts.

I didn't mean for my next post to be a rant and I will get around to posting about Lá Fhéile Bríde but I'm at the end of my tether with this lazy research I see in neopagan books and on websites.

Today's aggravation came up as I was was doing some research on the phrase brón trogain as referring to August/Lughnasadh. I decided to Google it and the search came up with the following as one of the results:

"I especially like the ancient name of Bron Trogain, sometimes translated as "earth sorrows under her fruits."" (Source)

*blinks* Um ... what?!

eDIL has...
Brón = 'sorrow'
Trogain (trogan) = 'earth', 'August', 'Autumn' or 'raven'/'female raven'

You can also see talk of it on OLD-IRISH-L here. It simply means 'the sorrow of the earth', and it is referred to in The Wooing of Emer as 'the beginning of autumn'.

Please tell me what this has to do with "under her fruits"? Why!? Why must some neopagans insist on twisting meanings and words to fit their goddess lore AND CALL IT ANCIENT?!

*headdesk*

I wish I could save everyone from bad research but I know it's all in vain. Just a warning to any NeoPagans who may come across my blog: never take neopagan books as gospel. Do your own research and ask questions.

Cros Bhríde

Cros Bhríde from Paula Geraghty on Vimeo.

In an old schoolhouse in north Donegal people gather to grant St Brigid permission to cross the threshold. She carries an armful of freshly cut rushes with a white cloth tied around them. They are laid on a long set of tables, and slowly men, women and children go up gather some rushes up to make the traditional St Brigid's crosses. There are a number of cross styles.

This all takes place on the eve of Lá Fhéile Bríde or St Brigid's Day, which falls on February 1st each year.

This was originally a pagan custom, which was Christianised. Imbolc was it's old pagan name and marked the the beginning of Spring.

This is a localised tradition. Here, in the old schoolhouse, all ages of the community gather to chat, make crosses, passing on skills and a culture that has deep roots. Children run around, dipping their hands in the tin of chocolates, allowed to stay up late. A huge pot of spuds is boiled, mashed with an old wooden potato ponder with scallions and salt added, maybe a drop of milk and when it's served on the plate a well is made for the great dollop of butter. Yum, yum.

Go raibh míle maith agaibh Mandy agus Donnelly, agus gach duine eile a raibh ann. Bhí an oíche an galánta ar fad.

Running time 15 minutes.

Book Review: Irish Witchcraft from an Irish Witch

Irish Witchcraft from an Irish Witch by Lora O‘Brien. © 2005 New Page Books. ISBN 1-56414-759-2. Paperback. New Age. 221 pages. $14.99 US. Read in August 2008. Source: purchase from a local pagan shop. (my review is x-posted here)

The author is very adamant in the first chapter on how this is not Wicca, but yet I barely see any differences. Witchcraft does not have High Priests and Priestess for one thing — that's a Wiccan trait — there's eight sabbats mentioned as well as initiation, "using" Celtic deities (rather than forming relationships. She lists beside each deity "modern uses," which I find horribly disrespectful), rites of passage, three levels (degrees), Lord and Lady, elementals, speaks of using sage smudge sticks and Tibetan bells for house cleansing (you think someone so adamant in cultural preservation would at least use juniper traditionally used by the Gaels to clear a house, not the Native American sage) ... to me it just looks like Irish Wicca. I truly can not see a difference.

On the upside, however, it is very delightful to see so much of the Irish language used within the book (along with easy-to-understand pronunciations). It was also fantastic to see her advocate learning Irish if you are going to call your spiritual path "Irish". And I loved that the author tackled the Witta issue as well as the Druid "bed sheet brigade" (page 203), I applaud her for both.

Other key points: she sticks to the four insular Celtic festivals within her Cycles chapter (she mentions the Solstice and Equinoxes as well, but only goes into full detail on the four fire festivals, unfortunately though there are some Wiccan bits and bobs thrown into these details) and she gives some fantastic book recommendations in the back.

I did find it hilarious how in the Website Recommendations she mentions Conradh Draoithe na h-Eireann, a group whom talk about some very odd things (like Atlantean land-healing and Masons ... what this has to do with Irish Druids, I have no idea), but I wouldn't trust a site with that on it. Nor would I trust a book which recommended the website.

Back to the shortcomings, there is one major thing that bothered me. On pages 85-86, the author states: "These are the ones who tie torn-up pieces of flowery umbrellas to a hawthorn tree outside the caves—just to leave an 'offering' of anything. Bring your rubbish home next time, folks". Tying bits of cloth to trees (called clooties) is an old and traditional Irish custom which locals still keep, so I have no idea why the author is so adamant that they should be removed and clearly through her choice of words, this was aimed at foreigners and tourists. Her statement is very condescending.

Now I completely understand her not wanting candle wax, crystals, bonfires, rubbish, and bits of plastic (page 125), but again she mentions not tying things to trees. Cloth and any food left as offerings are biodegradable (and non-synthetic) and are fine to leave, I don’t understand her disdain for them (well maybe food as that could attract animals, but I see nothing wrong with clooties tied to branches or coins hammered into trees -- both are things which locals do). She even goes on to say that she removes other people’s offerings (page 126)!

This book does have its drawbacks, but reading this review will help you spot them more easily. Overall, Irish Witchcraft from an Irish Witch is a decent piece of material for those interested in modern Witchcraft through an Irish lens. I’d recommend it to Wiccans looking for a more Irish/Celtic flavored path, but not really to anyone else.

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!

Busy, busy bee

Got up fairly early this morning since I have a good bit to do. Made Brodick Bannocks for breakfast. This was my first try and while I used white flour instead of brown as that's all I had on hand, they were yummy! Here's a pic (click to enlarge). I was going to make fuarag to go along with it, but I decided to save that for the party tonight since my niece and nephews would probably enjoy it.

I've cleaned the living room, kitchen and the my/guest bathroom so far this morning. Will decorate a bit when gets off work and stops by (ETA: put up a simple centerpiece on the kitchen table). In the meantime, I'm going to go ahead and cook what I can ahead of time (the spice cake) and carve the turnip that I didn't have enough time to do last night. Then it's in full mode Halloween around here. *whew*

It's raining so the bonfire is out the window *sadface* But we'll find something to do indoors.

Oíche Shamhna Shona Dhaoibh!