The Dagda’s harp brings in the greening.

There is a gentle green that hovers like mist about the trees.

Leaf buds prepare to burst forth, birdsong fills the air and Ireland has awakened.

In Irish mythology the land, its’ sovereignty and fertility, were the province of the Goddesses 

but The Dagda, the Good God, also played his part in providing for the people.

AN DAGDHA - more HERE.

We are told that he possessed two great treasures; a magical harp and the cauldron, Undry, which contained endless bounty "from which none returned unfulfilled".

'The Cauldron of the Dagda' by Paula O’Sullivan 

which stands in Tralee’s Sculpture Garden of the Senses. 

As leader of the Tuatha Dé Danann, he used his strength to clear twelve plains overnight, then created twelve rivers, to provide fertile, agricultural land and streams which brought “produce from the sea to tribes and kindreds.” 

A symbol of his virility was described by the antiquarian John Garvin in 1940’s as Bod a'Daghda,  the Dagdha's Penis.

The phallic Dagda's Stone, known by some as ‘the Dagda’s Dick, 

in the Bricklieve Mountains.

Photo © Martin Byrne courtesy of Carrowkeel.com

In Ardmore, Co. Waterford was the Cloch Daha, a stone which may also have been associated with the Good God. 

It was described as having a trough-like shape with a oval hole at the centre. 

Drawing of the Cloch Daha. 

The folklore of Ardmore tells of a tradition where the young unmarried men of the village inserted a pole into the hole of the Cloch-Daha then fixed a rope onto the top. 

Local single women would dance around the stone holding the rope so that the pole spun around. 

The custom ended with the young men pulling the women through the village seated on logs of wood. Owing to the sexual overtones these rites were stopped, the stone removed by the clergy then buried in the last century. 

The Cloch-Daha is thought to have been found and sits in the grounds 

of Monea House, Ardmore.

Only a few symbols of male fertility can be seen in the landscape.

Maghera, Co. Down.

Pic courtesy of Beyond the Pale

The Ballygilbert stone, Co. Antrim. 

Pic courtesy of Megalithamania

Male exhibitionist figure known as the Sean-na-Gig part of a gatepost, 

Ballycloughduff, Co. Westmeath.

However, The Dagda, it is believed controls the crops and harvest from his Otherworld home. 

Whilst, unheard by mortal ears, his magical harp plays on, calling forth the greening of the year.

Information about Ireland’s phallic stones can be found HERE and male exhibitionist carvings HERE 

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.

Æ, artist & mystic - “And the old enchantment lingers in the honey-heart of earth.”

‘The Spirit of the Pool via the Beauty of Art’

I first saw the work of the Irish visionary, George William Russell some twenty years ago and have been fascinated by his life ever since.  

Self portrait as a young man and an older Æ, described as having eyes 

“like well-springs in a wildwood of hair and beard.” 

Born in County Armagh in 1867, his family moved to Dublin when he was a child and it was here that Russell remained throughout his life. 

Plaque outside 84 Merrion Square, Dublin where Æ once worked.

You can read more about his life HERE

It was on a visit to his aunt in Drumgor, Co. Antrim when he was 16, that Russell experienced his first vision:

‘The Stolen Child’

"there broke in on me an almost intolerable lustre of light - pure and shining faces, 

dazzling processions of figures - most ancient, ancient places 

and peoples and landscapes lovely as the lost Eden"

‘Deirdre at the door of her Dun’

After hearing a voice whispering “AEON” to him as he painted, Russell used the pseudonym Æ to sign his work from then on.

Æ’s signature on the Autograph Tree next to that of WB Yeats at Coole Park.

Although known primarily as a poet, he was a painter, a committed worker for the Co-Operative Society, an editor and co-founder of the famous Abbey Theatre in Dublin as well as a mystic.

Æ’s visions of the ‘many-coloured land’ and the Tuatha Dé Danann inspired many of his early paintings and he continued to paint the Otherworld throughout his life.

‘Spirit of the Sea’

His spirits and fairies were not the small, winged creatures of Victorian fantasy but huge, dominating presences, the ‘Shining Ones’, their heads crowned with ‘flames’ of energy. 

They were Warriors, 

‘The Crusade’

‘Wood chopper and Tree Spirit’

Spirits of wood, water and cave

‘Aeon’

‘Lissadell fairies cavern’

and the Tuatha Dé Danann of Ireland who demanded respect.

‘Petition’

‘Tired’

Russell, known as the ‘myriad-minded man’, died aged 68. 

He is buried in Mount Jerome Cemetery, Dublin.

Many of his paintings are held in public collections throughout Ireland and others have emerged 

since his death.

Lying concealed beneath wallpaper at 3 Ely Place in Dublin are more of Æ’s visions. 

Two murals have been uncovered in the building which was once the headquarters of the Theosophical Society in Ireland. Others may surface in the future.

Æ’s visions continue to inspire.

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

Russell's poem ‘A Dream of Angus Oge’ and Winter Solstice at Newgrange.  

A video by Mythical Ireland.

More about Russell and the Theosophical Society can be found HERE

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Beneath the Hill of the Women

Cnoc na mBan, Knocknaman, The Hill of the Women

I recently deserted the studio and my current painting in favour of a landscape which guards ancient secrets.
I travelled west along the curving shoulder of the mountains and turned to wend my way beneath the Hill of the Women.

Rambling through the green shadowed glen and over a small stream I finally reached the
Old Munster Road.

Slí Dála is one of the five roadways which were said to originate from 

the Hill of Tara in the time of the High Kings. 

Along the way lies a holy well dedicated to St. Fionan Cam, known as a healer of the sick and injured around the 6th century. A saint who had a curious paternity.

The well of St. Fionan Cam, restored in 1988.

Legend informs us that he was conceived when his mother bathed in Lough Lein, Killarney, after sunset one evening and whilst doing so she was impregnated by a golden salmon.
She later gave birth to the saint. 

The head of the saint carved by a local man, Paddy Heaney.

From the well the road leads to Forelacka, a glen surrounded by hills and it is here, where the valley suddenly widens and the modern road ends, that a circular burial mound stands, a monument to the early inhabitants.

The passage tomb, similar in style to those in the Boyne Valley, is thought to date to 

the early Bronze Age. 

A stone once rested on this side of the mound indicating an entrance to the chamber.

Looking north from the mound to The Hill of the Women. 

The silhouette of a much larger passage tomb shrouded by forest can just be seen on the summit. 

In 1844, when the forest was being planted, this summit tomb was clearly visible surrounded by a
stone circle. Evidence of fire action was found on the stones with layers of ash discovered in the soil.
It is speculated that ritual fires were once lit on the top of the hill at Bealtaine to welcome
the summer and obtain the blessings of the Ever-Living Ones.

I turned and stood with my back to the passage grave and looked across to another hill, beyond
which sits a modern bungalow concealing a secret.

Dowsers at the Cumber Stones - photo by © Seán Gilmartin.

The Cumber Stones are two limestone pillars, weathered and shaped by time, which stand incongruously at the front entrance to a house.
Over the years dowsers have visited them in an attempt to decipher their meaning within the landscape.

Between the stones by © Seán Gilmartin.

I had a final visit to make on my journey that day so left the strange stones behind me and set out
for Glenafelly. In this quiet valley nestles the Fiddler's Rock, where the fairy fiddle player sits.

He was heard here one evening playing his lament, by two local farmers, now long gone.
More recently children's voices have been heard about the stone, in the glen were children no
longer play.

Although seemingly lost in a field it is the Fiddler's Rock which holds a clue to the beliefs 

of our distant ancestors.

The stone itself, a block of quartzite, is of a type not found elsewhere in the region 

and was probably erected in the Bronze Age.

Many years ago the geologist, John Feehan, made a fascinating discovery.
If you walk in a straight line from the rock you will pass directly between the Cumber pillar stones, descend into the valley beyond and arrive at the entrance to the burial mound near the foot of The Hill of the Women.
And that is not all.

Whilst out running near Glenafelly in the week before Christmas he observed:

"I was stopped in my tracks, awestruck at the great beam of sunlight that streamed through 

Cumber Gap across the Fiddler's Rock, whose long shadow pointed like a dark finger at Knocknaman, 

and all the way down the valley south of it."

Evening gathered as I turned to leave the Fiddler's Rock, my head filled with questions about
sunlight at Winter Solstice, alignments across the landscape and ancient beliefs.

I speculated aloud about the ancient people who once lived here.

Most importantly I asked about the Hill of the Women.
" Who were the women ? Were they warriors, mothers, healers, the wise ones ?

Did they light the fires on the Hill ? " 

But no answers came.

The Fiddler's Rock remained silent and the hills held their secrets.

'The Landscape of the Slieve Bloom - a study of its natural history and human heritage. '
By John Feehan has been republished and is available HERE