Tales from the Cailleach: Tipping the Balance at Equinox.

A short walk today, just as far as the thorn. 

The Equinox sunrise gilded the stones within my mound this morning.

Photo: sunlight at Spring Equinox inside Cairn T  © Clare Tuffy http://www.newgrange.com 

Seed-sprouts rise from the earth, tiny leaves curl on branches.
Still, there is a breath of snow in the air and on these grey days I don’t stray far from the hearth.

The fire awakened, I sit staring into the flames, warmed by memories of SAMHAIN past. 

Since then I have a ready smile for neighbours and laughter in my eyes. 

They do not know the cause but I see them sniffing the air as they pass, sensing sea tang, their faces puzzled by the seaweed fond across my threshold. 

The phone rings, reflections shatter.

Two voices, so like my own, whisper down the line.

“ Tonight, is it?”

I nod my reply.

“Yes, we’ll tip the balance. ”

Later, fire banked, I listen to the house as it sighs and settles into the night.

Once the tale was told of we three Hags who push up new growth from the land at Equinox, it’s almost true that story.
My sister-selves and I labour when light and dark are equal but not beneath the earth.

As shadows deepen, eyes close, breathing slows and I gently slip away.

Needing neither broom nor steed I rise to travel rimed roads. 

Sleep blankets the villages I pass, a quiet night in this world.

Over frost bitten bog and pitch river I gather speed to soar above the rising hill.

Photo © Lynda McCormack 

A feathering of snow flakes as I settle upon Sliabh na Caillíghe, where once we leapt and hurled 

the stones that now bear legends.

Upon my chair I scour the sleeping island with keen eyes.

Photo: Courtesy of © Anthony Murphy http://www.mythicalireland.com 

Yes, the land is ready, ripe for growth. 

I release my howl of greeting high into the darkness.  

A chill blast bearing laughter replies, my sister-self on Gullion. 

A moment later the screech of Bheara answers and we three Hags are ready.

The tipping point approaches.

At the mound, breath hoar frost on stone, I enter black stillness.

In this womb, the air, already laden with the scent of meadowsweet yet to bloom, 

shifts as I trace shapes within the stones. 

Patterns once danced upon the land in rhythm with earth, sea and sky.

We three move as one. 

Goodness in seed, grass and grain.

Sunwise circling.

Goodness in flower, fruit and branch.

Weaving words.

Goodness in grain, nourish our people.

A sudden surge. 

A torrent, the yellow of ripening sun, is birthed across the land. 

The point of balance tipped.

The land awash with vigour once again.

Cailleach at Sliabh na Caillíghe © Jane Brideson.

***

Next morning, I stir the embers back to flame and place the kettle on the stove, my work complete 

till harvest.

Stepping out the sky is washed pale blue and Seán stops the post van by the gate. 

“ Not a bad morning,” he says, “ there’s a feel of spring to the air. ”

Handing over the bills he stays to chat until the kettle sings. 

“ No tea for me today. ” 

Leaving he sniffs and mutters, “ is that the sea ? ”

I look to the sky. 

From the west a cloud formed like a wave rolls across the hills.

Inside two cups sit ready.

Manannán comes.

My first story of The Cailleach at Samhain is here: The Lament of the Old Woman

Tales from the Cailleach: The Lament of the Old Woman at Samhain.

I am known to my neighbours as the mad one who talks to the fairies and it is said I walk the roads 

whilst others sleep.

These same neighbours come to me for help with the troubles of country living; a sick mare, a lame cow or the strange event that preys upon the mind.

At these times I make the tea, stand the pot on the hearth and let the silence brew. 

I suggest a simple explanation for the opening door, the chill at the fireside or a room the dog won’t enter. 

Most times they are satisfied.

With others a pinch of truth is all that’s needed to recall piseogs and buried knowledge that goes on long into the night.

So I live amongst these people, not quite accepted by them, for I do not go to mass as they do 

nor hail the priest as father.

I keep to my own ways, spirit unbounded by men with rules and robes.

Now and then I catch a sharp glance from some busy farmer as I visit mound and thorn but they do not guess my secret.

Three times a year I leave my home in darkness, needing neither broom nor steed, I rise from bed 

to fly above the sleeping townland.

Whitethorn scent may rise to meet me or, as tonight, turf smoke greets my flight across grey fields.

Image by Peter Gordon at http://explorelight.com

Skimming winding river I am observed but not by human eyes. 

Deer, owl and hare all know my ways, the night is ours.

Over hidden valley and bald mountain top I rise to settle on the tumbled cairn. 

Below land stretches away in shades of darkness undisturbed.

A sigh, long and deep, escapes me. 

Eyes close to invoke Samhain long past when the people knew and held us close.

Heart heavy with old memories, sorrow gnaws at my breasts and I nurse it. 

Alone, unloved, forgotten in this modern world.

Bitter wind shakes me from the past. 

Keen-eyed again, I stretch my sight to spy the distant horizon. 

Far off, a shift, a smudge, disturbs my vision.

A wisp of smoke.   A soar of sparks.   Now a flare of yellow red. 

Tlachta’s fire is kindled !

One by one other heights reply; 

Teamhair, Cruacháin, Uisneach, Sliabh na Caillí, Cruachán Aigle and Binn Ghulbain. 

Sliabh gCuillinn, Sliabh Dónairt, twin fires upon Dá Chích Anann. 

Hill top beacons burst with fire. 

In valleys tiny flames wake as dormant village cross-roads ignite. 

A million flames, a rosary of fire across the land.

The old ways are remembered!

Three calls from sharp-mouthed Raven cleaves the silence, The Great Queen rises from her cave. 

Beneath Brí Éile Brigid’s forge is lit anew as one by one, across the night, mounds open 

and those who have never left return.

Here, upon the Height of Ireland, I stand tall again and at my side Manannán shares his secret smile with me. 

The tide has turned.

Samhain greetings to you all!

This story was inspired by reading ‘The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare’, an Irish poem written in the 10th century,
which led me to wonder if The Cailleach lived amongst us and if so, what sort of neighbour would she be?

This virtual film relates a version of the poem translated by the Celtic language scholar Kuno Meyer. 

In the ancient past the Samhain fire was ceremonially lit by the Druids on Tlachtga, the Hill of Ward in Co. Meath. 

It is believed that answering fires were also lit on other prominent places across the landscape.

In more recent times the Tlachtga ceremony has been rekindled and this short film shows part 

the ceremony in 2015. 

Time of The Cailleach

Watercolour, gouache & pastel on watercolour paper 20" x 27".

Model: Siobhán ní Ghabhann.

"Three great ages; the age of the yew tree, the age of the eagle, 

the age of the Old Woman of Beara (Cailleach Bheara)." - Old Connacht proverb

When daylight decreases and the cold wind nips at my nose as I walk along the frosty road I know 

that it is the time of The Cailleach.

Cailleach means 'old woman, hag or veiled one' and she also known in Ireland as
Cailleach Bhéara,  Cailleach Bhiorach, Cailleach na Huibhe, Boí / Buí & Sentainne Bérri.
She has many different guises in folklore: she is the bean ghlúine - the midwife, the bean fasa -
the wise woman and the bean chaoínte - the keening woman.
She is also the hag who is embraced by the hero to become the beautiful Goddess of Sovereignty.
The Old Woman may originally have been a lunar goddess associated with the sea, the formation
of the land and various horned animals especially deer and cows.

1 On the left, beneath the waxing moons and the Bealach na Bó Finne, the Milky Way

can be seen Slieve Gullion, Co. Armagh where the southern cairn, the largest, is known as 

the Calliagh Berra's House and to its north lies the Calliagh Berra's Lough. 

She is said to have tricked Fionn McCool into jumping into its waters and when he emerged he 

was transformed into an old man. 

Beneath the mountain is a small herd of red deer, the only species native to Ireland, believed to have had a continuous presence here since the end of the last Ice Age, c. 10,000 BCE.

2 On the right, beneath the waning moons, lies Cnóbha, Knowth, Co. Meath. 

The mound is also known as Cnoc Buí where it is believed that the ancestor, Buí,
'cow like one' is buried.

3 An Cailleach sits at the centre of the painting within the west recess of Cairn T,
Sliabh na Caillí, part of the Loghcrew passage tomb complex in Co. Meath which dates
from around 4,000 BCE .

She is surrounded by the many, richly decorated stones which line the tomb and around her neck
hang some of the objects discovered in excavations of the complex.
Above her is a carved stone set into the roof and beneath it the 'Equinox' stone of the recess which is illuminated by the rising sun at the Autumn and Spring Equinoxes.

4 The complete complex of Loughcrew spreads across the lap of An Cailleach.

Patrickstown Hill is on the left, Carnbane East with Cairns T, U and V visible at the centre and Carnbane West on the right, showing Cairns D and L. Altogether there are the remains of 25 cairns here, each aligned to various astronomical events, with Cairn T on the highest peak commanding views over 18 counties.

Several of the mounds originally had a mantle of white quartz & must have been an impressive sight 

in sunlight or under a full moon. 

5 Her hands are placed in the crack of the sill stone as she connects the earth, the sea and the moon. 

6 To the left is the pale Calendar Stone found at Cairn X on Patrickstown Hill, thought to show
both solar and lunar cycles.
On the right is kerbstone 15 from Knowth also thought to be a Calendar Stone depicting the
suns' annual journey.

7 Below this is Carrauntoohil, Co. Kerry with the Hag's Tooth just visible.
To the left is Oiléan Buí, Dursey Island off the Bheara Peninsula, Co. Cork.
Close to the coast of the island is a rock standing in the sea known as Bó Buí, Buí's Cow,
which is said to have been turned to stone by An Cailleach herself.

 Carrantuohill & Hag's Tooth - wikipedia

8 At the centre bottom is An Cailleach Bhéarra, The Hag of Beara, a metamorphic rock

unlike any other in the area.

There are many stories about The Hag of Beara locally, one being that she turned herself to stone 

so that there would always be a hag on Beara. 

Another tells that she stands on the hillside above Coulagh Bay gazing out over the Atlantic 

watching for the return of her lover Manannán Mac Lír.

If you visit her today you will find offerings of ribbons, flowers and crystals adorning the rock 

in honour of the Cailleach Bhéarra.

Photo © Jane Brideson

To find out more & take a virtual tour please visit:

http://www.voicesfromthedawn.com/loughcrew/

http://www.voicesfromthedawn.com/slieve-gullion/

Information on The Wild Deer Association of Ireland can be found HERE

For a fascinating study of the Cailleach see: 

"The Book of the Cailleach: Stories of the Wise Woman Healer" by Gearóid Ó Crualaoich.