The Search for Brigid Story Archaeology

Brigid: the much-loved, Irish saint and the revered, Celtic, tribal ancestress.  But is there a connection between the two?  Sift through the strata of her story in conversation with the Story Archaeologists.

Music: “Tam Lin” by Gian Castello

Don’t forget to subscribe to get the latest podcasts by The Story Archaeologists!

I cannot recommend this series of podcasts on the Irish stories, myths and poetry from The Story Archaeologists enough.  Though I received the recommendation last year, I have only begun listening this past week and have regretted not listening sooner, as I am entranced by what is discussed in these podcasts.  I'm not academic and these discussions seemed to be addressing the lay person, such as myself, so I am grasping the connections being made, and having lots of personal "A-ha!" moments of understanding as I listen.

I've linked to this particular podcast, exploring the stories surrounding Brigid, because we are approaching Là Fhèill Brìghde 2013.  However, this is Episode 5 of Series 1 in the podcasts and I should like to suggest that listeners start from the beginning and work their way through the series.  Something I neglected to do.

I hope my readers find the discussions of the Story Archaeologists as fascinating as I do.

Spirituality during a Crisis

My start to 2013 was poor having spent a considerable amount of time being ill, and confined to a hospital, and then home - I'm still unwell.   Despite this, for whatever reason, I never appealed to my gods, I didn't think to meditate or engage in my spirituality on any level.

Reflecting on this, I realise how odd my behaviour seemed.  If I had been in a similar situation in my younger days, I would have offered prayers and made appeals to a god I didn't really believe in, yet, here I am firmly entrenched in my chosen polytheist path, and while enduring this latest health crisis I made no attempt to connect with my gods, or use any of the methods I have learned over the years to improve my situation.   Why?

It could have been my brain was frazzled from the lack of sleep over an eight (8) day period, and fuzzy from high temperatures and infections, even so, shouldn't my faith has been my comfort?  A solution to the deep, dark place in which I found myself?

How could I have forgotten such a major part of my life?  Even when I noticed that my religion was not noted on my admission forms, I thought to amend them, but never did.  All was forgotten.

I feel this is something on which I should reflect/meditate.   Why did I feel so distant from my gods, the spirits of place, my core.   How do I get that connection back so I never forget during a crisis again?

I should never have felt so alone, knowing my gods, and the spirits of my land as I do.   It is obvious something in me needs to change, and this should be my focus for 2013.

Maelstrom Melody

As the high winds, accompanied by rain, arrived last night I found myself listening to the sounds; imagining the trendils of the Cailleach's hair streaking through the trees.  Being still, being silent and just listening conjured a mass of imagery.  It was uplifting.

The house shook quite a few times from the pressure, but I slept soundly just allowing my mind to drift on the melody of the maelstrom.

Strange Tides

What a strange season it is: The weather, and other natural forces have felt odd in this corner of the land, being very mild, and my free time over the festivities birthed the unexpected. It's hard to explain what has happened or is happening. My plan was to relax and unwind, but I was driven to something else altogether by forces known, familiar, and unknown and unfamiliar.

Something has switched in this tide; and I have started a journey ... to where or what I know not. The why is even less clear. I do know I had a part in calling forth the impetus on solstice night.

Be careful what you wish for.

Save our Ancient Forests (UK)

Following Rowan's and Solsticedreamer's posts i am posting this for the benefit of uk readers of my blog.  Our ancient woodland is under threat from privatisation, and needs all the support we can give.

Click here to take you to the petition.

Besom Engine

Another borrowed blog:

graveyarddirt:

EARLY 19TH C BESOM ENGINE, via Ebay
Early nineteenth century blacksmith made besom engine or to use its more common name besom clamp. This was a tool that was used in the manufacture of besom brushes or using there more common name witches broomstick.This tool was used to clamp the birch twigs to the hazel handle.
There were two ways this tool could be used. One way was to secure the spiked end into the ground, place the twigs around the bottom end of the hazel handle and place into the jaws of the clamp. Then using your foot apply pressure on the clamp handle to close the jaws together and then you can bind the twigs onto the handle. Alternatively you could secure the clamp in a bench vice and repeat the process using your hand.
This is obviously a rare item and as such would make a wonderful piece for the collector of rural crafts.
A picture of my new baby. Sexy little beast, right?

Borrowed Post

I have reblogged this from a Tumblr blog I follow via a feed.  I don't normally borrow other people's blog posts, but this one was different, because I completely sympathised and understood the sentiment completely


graveyarddirt:

Spring Menu, 2011, by Ms. Graveyard Dirt

Here’s the exciting follow-up to yesterday’s heretical journal entry: our annual Bride’s Day-Candlemas-Imbolc menu. Before anyone else has another knee-jerk reaction let me just say - no, I’m not trying to subtly* influence and manipulate people into eating what I think is right (“…AND HERE’S THE MOTHERFUCKING FOOD YOU SHOULD BE FUCKING EATING, RETARDS”). What I AM trying to do, though, is give an example of how I’m attempting to eat seasonally when observing a season-based festival or sabbat.

* It’s a scientific fact that I’m completely incapable of being subtle.

Four things are always taken into account when creating a menu that’s eaten on a holy day that celebrates a turn of the agricultural year: what my ancestors were eating at that time of year, what Italics’ ancestors were eating at that time of year, what the land we live on provides at that time of year and any non-traditional food or dish that has a personal - or significant - value to us as a household at that time of year.

(There’s potentially five things you can take into account, but because I don’t subscribe to any sort of religion I don’t have a culture to fall back on. If you don’t feel connected to your ancestors or the land you’re living on, you always have the option of looking into what the people of your religion ate at that time of the year.)

I’m Ukrainian, with a splash of nomadic plains Indian (Hunkpapa, Lakhota). Italics is, more or less, Scottish (there’s Irish and French in there somewhere, but in small amounts). We both live in his homeland, Scotland, so we observe Imbolc - Spring - at the very start of February due to being in the northern hemisphere. Because Bride’s Day-Candlemas-Imbolc is so very fucking British Isles I give the Ukie shit a rest for once (but only because Easter is totally Slavtastic) and focus on what the land actually provides during this time of the year, and what it’s provided for countless effing generations.

Wheat, barely and oats are the three “grains” I associate with Scotland, and traditional Scottish cookery. But because Italics suffers from coeliac/celiac disease we don’t eat wheat or gluten, so we focus on oats instead. (Oats, by the way, are a-okay for celiacs as long as they’re prepared and packaged in a wheat/gluten-free environment.) I still bake bread for Bride, but I also bake a loaf that both Italics and I can break in communion together.

At this time of year in Scotland the only fresh vegetables are winter vegetables, and those are primarily greens and chthonic, root-based plants. I know that might sound limiting, but it’s not. Think bulbs, vegetables that are at their best once frostbitten, anything that stores happily throughout the cold months and the very new, very tender hardy shoots that are already appearing outside: apples, beets, cabbage, cauliflower, celeriac, chicory, fennel, garlic, horseradish, kale, onions, parsnips, pears, potatoes, rocket, shallots, sprouts, squash, swede (known as rutabaga in the USofA), turnips and wild plants’n’herbs.

The heavily pregnant ewes begin dribbling milk around this time, so a huge focus on Imbolc’s meal - at least to me - is the return of milk and dairy products to the diet. (That gets celebrated in dessert, when I make a homemade batch of crème brûlée using organic, full-fat cream.) Because we’re carnivores flesh comes in the form of preserved meat (I personally brine a brisket for Bride), but if corned beef wasn’t set in stone - which it is - we would probably eat game (pheasant, grouse, duck, partridge, rabbit, venison) because that was what was available during this time of the year.

(PS: I’m only not mentioning fish/seafood as suitable options because I fucking LOATHE fish, and because - like I said above - we always eat homemade corned beef when celebrating Bride’s Day. <- Once something gets recognized as an annual tradition it’s hard to be cavalier about mixing shit up, ESPECIALLY when you’re autistic. I mean, fuck, you’ve seen Rainman, right? Brined brisket for Bride on Bride’s Day is totally Judge Wapner, People’s Court at 4 fucking PM in this motherfucking house.)

Taking everything I said into account, this is the meal we eat to celebrate the return of Spring using what’s actually available and in season during that time:

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