The Many Coloured Land.

Yesterday, as daylight dwindled, I was sitting by the stove re-reading AE’s book

‘The Candle of Vision’ when my mind returned to the start of this year. 

I began 2016 here with a post dedicated to George William Russell, AE. 

His writing continued to inspire me through the bleak days of winter and later led me to seek out the Many Coloured Land, places of vision and creative power within myself and the landscape of Ireland.   

To read - Æ, artist & mystic - 

“And the old enchantment lingers in the honey-heart of earth.” LINK HERE

This January was icy but as daylight slowly grew I made preparations to honour Brigid on the Eve of her festival.

The cross was woven and set above the door. 

The brát was placed on the windowsill to catch her blessing as she emerged from nearby 

Croghan Hill, to walk the land. 

To read - "Brighid returns from the Otherworld" LINK HERE

The long desired greening had began by the time I travelled to Kildare, home of her eternal flame. 

Her fire pit held evidence of ritual 

and at Brigid’s Well I felt the rising of the year.

To read - "The promised Spring arrives" LINK HERE

In hindsight I now understand that water has flowed throughout my year. 

Visits to rivers, lakes, bogs and sacred wells have inspired me and strengthened my connection to the spirits of the land. 

I see now that it really began on the shores of Lough Gur, sacred to the goddess Áine. 

To read - LOUGH GUR - “a personality loved, but also feared.”

LINK HERE

Then on morning walks to my local river I spied white blossom on dark limbs.

The blackthorn blazed like pale spirits across the country.

To read "Blackthorn, dark sister of the May" LINK HERE

Pale primroses peeped from beneath hedges and gold glinted in the fields.

Bealtaine came nearer. I welcomed summer on May Eve in the old way by decorating a May bush 

and lighting a bonfire at twilight. 

To read - "The May bush ribbons dance as the Fairy Host pass by" LINK HERE

As the land brought forth her flowers and the sun stretched the evenings

I felt a strong pull towards water, the west and Irelands’ many sacred wells. 

To read - "Sacred water and three thousand Holy Wells" LINK HERE

To read - "By Stone, Whitethorn and Well" LINK HERE

One well in particular, Rathin Well in Co. Clare, was to connect me to a deep sorrow still felt
by many communities.

To read - "In silent need they searched for Holy ground" LINK HERE

The year turned towards harvest but water still drew me to loughs 

To read - "Lughnasa, loughs and a last salute to Summer." LINK HERE

and the dark bog spirits of the Midlands.

To read - "Dark Spirits of the Bog" LINK HERE

There were places where the Otherworld felt close

To read - "The Burren: Land of the Fertile Rock" LINK HERE

and a morning when I stepped into The Silence.

To read - "Otherworld Shenanigans: The Silence" LINK HERE

Throughout this years’ adventures The Cailleach, the Old Woman, has been close by.

She has threaded her way through images.

To read - "The Cailleach - Hag of the Mill & Mother of the Herd" LINK HERE

And words. 

To read - "A Samhain Story - The Lament of the Old Woman" LINK HERE

As I prepare to celebrate the birth of a new year she whispers in my ear -

“ There is more, much more yet to come. You have merely glimpsed the Many Coloured Land.” 

Outside The Cailleach traces frost upon the leaves but I know she has already planted 

the seeds of next years’ adventures.

Many thanks to you all for reading, following and commenting on this blog. 

May your New Year be filled with good food, good health & good company!

A Synchronicity of Ravens.

'The Fallen Castle' was inspired by a visit many years ago to Rattin Castle, Co. Westmeath. 

At the time I felt it would make an interesting painting, a symbol of a powerful elite that once held the land, now in decay. 

Rattin takes its’ name from Rath Aitinne meaning ‘Rath of the furze’. 

A rath or earthwork lies to the west of the castle. 

The area around the Rattin Castle is believed to have been inhabited possibly from as early as 

4000-2500 BCE and the building stands about 30 metres high, on raised ground like an island surrounded by marshland.

The castle itself dates to the 15th century and was constructed to defend part of the extensive 

Anglo-Norman territories of the midlands. Built on land owned by Hugh de Lacy, it later passed into the hands of Sir John D’Arcy and his family and was taken by Cromwell’s army in the 1640’s.

This was all I knew of Rattin but as I began to paint I was convinced that ravens and crows had to feature, though I had no idea why.

Finally the painting was finished, complete with corvids. 

It wasn’t until much later that I was alerted by a friend to the local folklore concerning Rattin Castle.

Reading this I felt that familiar ‘tingle’ of something awakening.

Over the years there have been many of these ‘meaningful coincidences’ which, when I paid attention, led me to make changes, deepen my knowledge or discover more connections which I could use in my artwork or my own spiritual practices.

This concept, termed Synchronicity by Carl Jung, is explained as: 

“ The experience of two or more events which occur in a meaningful manner, 

but which are causally unrelated. 

In order to be synchronous, the events must be related to one another conceptually, 

and the chance that they would occur together by random chance must be very small. ”

Perhaps the raven of the painting and the folklore of Rattin was a small example of synchronicity?

***

Two weeks later whilst driving I decided to turn off the familiar main road to explore a new landscape. 

The small road ran up Spa Hill and parking at the top I sat watching 

crows wheeling high above the land. 

Back behind the wheel, driving down the twisty way into a valley, my mind wandered. 

I pondered the nature of synchronicity, where did it come from and why did it happen? 

Did other people pay attention to it too? 

I turned around a sharp bend in the road  

where I was confronted by another raven.

The Raven sculpture by Saturio Alonso with airborne crow.

I had come unknowingly to the small village of Lisdowney, Lios Dúin Fhiaich, The Fort of the Raven or 

of Fiach, a local chieftain. 

The monument celebrates the history of the village with information about neighbouring settlements, so I stopped to read the notice board.

At that moment I felt the sense of excitement that unexpected happenings bring and my attention was caught by a picture of the ruined Balleen Castle, nearby. 

Balleen Castle.

The tale of the castle, handed down through generations, is that the builders were nearing completion when a raven flew over their heads and told them that the Lord of Balleen had become a ruined man. Seeing they would not be paid, the men left immediately and the story goes that Balleen Castle was never finished. 

So another raven, another castle and on the map a place named Clontubrid, ‘meadow of Brigid’s well’.

The map showed a holy well close to the church so I felt this deserved a detour. 

On arrival of course I expected to find Brigid’s Well there.

I discovered that it was St. Fiachra’s Well.

St. Fiachra? The figure, wearing a long tunic, has a "smoothly rounded head 

with large almond-shaped eyes and a pointed chin."

Fiachra, a personal name which originated in pre-Christian Ireland, is thought to be derived from 

the word fiach meaning "raven". 

The small house over the well is very old and may have originally been part 

of the cell of St. Fiachra, a hermit, whose festival was celebrated there on 8th February, 

the old date for Imbolg.

It seemed that the ravens were sending a message which by now I was hearing loud and clear, so as the evening light was fading I turned towards home.

I am still reflecting on that day and view these events as a synchronicity of ravens telling me to pay attention,
bringing me a message.

But where do they come from? 

Are they messages from our unconscious mind or from the inter-connected universe? 

Are they chance encounters with another realm or merely inexplicable coincidences?

Brighid returns from the Otherworld.

Tomorrow is Lá Fhéile Bríde, Brighid’s Day and tonight after sunset she will emerge to walk the land.

There are many folk traditions associated with Brighid’s Eve in Ireland which welcome her return, one such is the Brát Bhrid, a piece of cloth, put outside the home on 31st January, at sunset. 

The Brát Bhrid was placed on a nearby bush, often a whitethorn, 

on a window sill or tied to the handle of the front door.

It was believed that Brighid would touch the brát and bestow it with healing which remained in the cloth, becoming more potent over time. 

Hands on the door of Saint Brigid's Parish Church, Kildare.

The brát is left over night and at sunrise the dew damp cloth was brought indoors and kept. 

It was laid on people to heal various ailments, to cure infertility in women and ease childbirth. Wearing the Brát Bhrid also saved young children from abduction by the Good People. 

The cloth was often of a specific colour; on the islands off Donegal, 

in Mayo and on Inishmurray, Sligo it was red, in Tipperary, black & in other areas white. 

The Brát usually consisted of a ribbon, a piece of linen or a garment.

According to author Fr Seán Ó Duinn Brighid is the only saint to return annually and her appearance on the eve of the fire festival, Imbolc, is one indication that her roots go back to the ancient goddess who is associated with healing, poetry and smith craft.

It is not only Brighid who returns tonight. 

The Good People will also emerge from the hills as the gates to the Otherworld open. 

A remnant of this belief was recorded in Donegal when a sheaf of corn and an oat cake were left outside on Brighid’s Eve to thank them for the harvest and to ensure good luck. 

On the old date for Imbolc, 4th February this year, sunlight enters several Neolithic mounds 

including the Mound of the Hostages at Tara above.

Celebrations at Imbolc, the first day of Spring and Lá Fhéile Bríde, traditionally take place around the home and unlike the other annual fire festivals there are no references to bonfires being lit on hill tops. 

Perhaps it was too cold to venture forth? 

Or perhaps the sacred fire was the goddess Brighid herself who dwelt in the Otherworld and would return annually to walk the land bestowing protection, fertility and health on people and animals.

In Christian iconography Brigid is often depicted with fire.

 Here she stands with her soulmate, the young woman St. Darlughdacha.

Not too far from my home is Cruachán Bríg Eile, Croghan Hill in Co. Offaly.

Known as the most isolated hill in Ireland, Croghan stands like an island in the surrounding bog and according to John Feehan it can be seen from 12 counties. 

The breast like Croghan Hill with its’ Neolithic passage grave on the summit 

provides a panoramic view.

Excavations in the area have revealed the presence of iron ore, stone hearths, 

ritual lake deposits & the bog body of  Old Croghan Man.

The Hill itself is an extinct volcano and folklore explains that its’ fire can be reached by entering the burial mound.

Locally it is believed that St. Brighid was born near Croghan and that Brigit Begoibne, Brigid the Smith, has her workshop beneath the hill. It is here, using skill, strength and fire that she works metal to create her beautiful cauldrons.

The Holy Well on Croghan is now dedicated to St. Patrick but the fiery goddess Brighid 

is still remembered with offerings of a Brigid’s Eye, red tinsel and yellow flowers.

As the sun sets this evening Brighid will emerge, flame bright, from the mound on Croghan Hill 

to travel the dark landscape blessing her people.

This is the traditional Manx 'Invocation to Bridget' by Emma Christian.

Translation:

"Bridget, Bridget, come to my house, 

come to my house tonight.

Open the door to Bridget, 

and let Bridget come in.

Bridget, Bridget, come to my house, 

come to my house tonight."

To read more about Brighid I thoroughly recommend 

‘Brigid - Meeting the Celtic Goddess of Poetry, Forge and Healing Well’ by Morgan Daimler 

which can be found HERE.