Danu's Call

*Well, Reader. *What's the craic? Welcome to Hiberno Stories if you're a first-timer; welcome back if you've been here before. Before your *head is well and truly *wrecked, may I take this opportunity to inform you that the little *asterisks* you see before words and phrases are linked to the Hiberno English Glossary you'll see below my posts. Some words are Irish English rather than Hiberno. If you *take a notion and flick back over older posts, you'll not find them everywhere, only on those which are directly linked to our lovely language, the English of Ireland (also known as, the best English in the world. Not a dialect, a tongue in itself. For the lore on that, go back to Day...eh, click HERE).

Today, my *head is melted. I *haven't a notion what's up or down. If the tree *across the way from my *gaff were a person, it'd have felt *fair awkward today, *let me tell you. My eyes were locked on it longer than two wolves when mating. *Me laptop's in the same *feckin' state - not quite *banjaxed, but potentially *on its last legs. I keep getting the "blue screen of death."

As you may know, if you've been *skulking in the background somewhere following my content, I'm writing my book at the minute. It's called "From Head to Heart: Healing on The Camino." This week, it's been a *bloody mare to write. The stage I'm at is *cutting me deeply. It's hurt to write parts of it. Other parts, are pure and utter joy. The story weaves, you see, from pleasure to pain and back round again, just like life, just like "The Way," but I'll tell you more of that another time. I've a *mad goal to get it written by the 5th of August, two years to the date when I took my first steps on the Camino de Santiago. But that means penning about 4,000 words a day for the next 10 days. Anyone would think I am *two cans short of a six pack even thinking about it. Today, I feel like I'm about 4 cans short, and the two I have are leaking. Sure we'll see what happens.

I'm telling you this because I wasn't sure a story would come out of me today, and that makes me feel a bit guilty. Mental health conversations are important to me, so I feel it important to share the journey. I feel bad because I've promised to publish a Hiberno Story every Friday. Their words are being gifted to me through inspiration over the past few weeks. The gift has come today, a very special one, and I want to do it justice. How the stories form is a very interesting experience, I must say. The idea comes from the earth, the plants, trees and animals. The stories start in song.

This week, I was walking our lawn, running my bare feet through the soft tufts of shamrocks sprouting from the earth. Where I live at the moment is called "Knockshee." "Knock" comes from "cnoc" meaning "hill" and "shee" (sí) means "burial mound" or "of the faeries." Thus I live by the "Hill of the Faeries." My content this week has celebrated that. Take a look at my Instagram for some tales of our magical people. 

As I walked the garden, thinking of the shamrock and what the world understands it to represent, I got to thinking of syncretism. It is well known that when the Christians were turning the Irish away from their Gods and Goddesses, they absorbed many of their rituals, beliefs and stories into those of the new, "one God." They also omitted and deformed the position and status of the feminine, weakening the perception of women in the process. Even Father Dougal would have said, "*down with that sort of thing." 

"They must have done it with the Shamrock," I thought. "Let me see what it really represented before Patrick went and made it the symbol of the Holy Trinity." How exciting a discovery that was, dear Reader. 

This morning, I sang the call of Danu as I was drying my hair. Danu (or Anu) is the Mother Goddess, known to many as "The Mother of the Irish Gods." From her descended the Tuatha de Danann, a supernatural race from which the "People of the Mounds" or the *Sidhe are descended. For some time now, I have felt guided by our Goddess Danu. Anna is my Grandmother, Anne was my Nana. My middle name is Anne. Her light, at times, I feel shines through in mine. Those who know, will understand what I mean when I say that. There is no lightness in my words. It is a heavy cloak to wear, one deserving of a reverent respect. Should you think me mad reading this, well, firstly, show me normal. Secondly, I might not be your flavour of whiskey. You are free to *run for the hills. 

The stories of Danu and the Sidhe are far too many to do justice in one post, so let us start with a story of syncretism, a very good place to start. 

***************

Oh through the earth I speak. 

Oh, through the trees I call. 

Within thee, within thee, is me. 

From within thee,

I call you to your destiny. 

Be not afraid I'll show you how

release your fear come to me now. 

 ********

On the day he came, everything changed. With cloth for cover, he took our clover for the church. 

"*Go sábhála Dia sinn!" 

"God can't save you," the heathen swore. You've taken what was ours believing nevermore will our goddess be seen upon the petals.

"Go sábhála Dia sinn!" 

"Your God has forsaken you," the heathen hymned. "You will repent for all your sins." 

"*In ainm an athar, an mhic agus an spioraid naoimh."

The wind whipped as Patrick opened prayer amongst the crowd. All around, the triple leaves of the seamróg, the shamrock, fluttered. An idea sprouted. He plucked one from the earth. 

"The Lord and His Holy Trinity we may see in the leaves. The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit. Let us bow our heads and pray." 

The heathen had been ousted, moved away to a place her words would be drowned out by the rumble of the crowd. And so the shamrock became the symbol of the "Lord" across the land of Ireland, and its true representation was lost to time, no longer on the tongues of those who'd told its story for centuries. 

It is said Patrick would preach the Holy Trinity to all who listened. Some who did, would take the tale of the seamróg off to other lands and preach it there. Patrick had chosen a powerful symbol, and used it wisely. But in choosing part of the land, he had made a grave error. In his ignorance of the true meaning of Spirit, Patrick had failed to realise that the essence of life and lore lives on in those who seek The Way, The Truth, and The Light. Not his "Way, his "Truth" nor his "Light," but The Way and The Truth that had long been lit by The Light - the Light of the Sun and Moon, the true Gods and Goddesses - those birthed of the Mother Danu. 

 *******
In a small, thatched cottage off the coast of Ireland, lived the one they called the "heathen." An ugly name given to those who refused to turn to the new stories, and kept within them the word of the land that had long been their ley line, linking them to places far and near. To all who crossed her path, she would recount the origin story of the seamróg, the story of life, the story of the Goddess Danu. 

"Before that *blaggard Patrick came

and plucked it from our land

the seamróg had a story

Danu sat on its triad. 

On one leaf lays the maiden

on a second the mother true

the third some call the grandmother, 

she is The Crone to me and you. 

The Shamrock is our Danu, 

our Goddess whose name roots

in ancient Irish to wisdom,

to poetry, knowledge and fruit

of the earth, the rivers and winds that howl,

of amber, gold and the moon as crown. 

Forget ye not your Mother, 

she will guide you on your way, 

to the realisation of all your dreams 

to your path of creation, 

Your Destiny. 

 ******

And so it became that the young women and men of Ireland remembered their Mother true. A strong warrior Goddess who nurtured and empowered them to set forth into the new world, sharing the story of the seamróg, the Goddess Danu - The Maiden, The Mother, and The Crone.  

***************

Oh through the earth I speak. 

Oh, through the trees I call. 

Within thee, within thee, is me. 

From within thee,

I call you to your destiny. 

Be not afraid I'll show you how

release your fear come to me now. 

 ***********

Glossary: 

1. Well: a greeting, like hello. 
2. What’s the craic?: what's happening in your life?
3. Head is wrecked: you are annoyed / mithered / bothered.
4. Take a notion: decide to. 
5. Head is melted: like an ice-cube. You can't really function. 
6. Haven’t a notion: don't know. (Notion has lots of meanings. See my Instagram.)
7. Across the way: across the road or a field or two. 
8. Fair awkward: very awkward. 
9. Let me tell you: I'm not lying, so listen. Acts as an emphatic phrase. 
10. Me: My. Used mostly in Dublin. 
11. Feckin: Emphatic word. Thought incorrectly by the world to mean 'fuck.' It is not a curse.
12. Banjaxed: Broken beyond repair. (let's hope not). 
13. On its last legs: Almost broken beyond repair. 
14. Skulking: Sneaking quietly. 
15. A bloody mare: Very difficult. 
16. Cutting someone + adverb: Hurting. 
17. Mad: Crazy.
18. Two cans short of a six pack: Crazy. Not the full shilling. 
19. Down with that sort of thing: Comedic reference to the Father Ted series when the priests were protesting against a movie with nudity in it. 
20. Sidhe: The faerie folk. Some called the "Good People." You'd want to be careful there.
21. Run for the hills: Run away. In this case, not read my content.
22. Go sábhála Dia sinn: Gaeilge. Lord save us.
23. In ainm an athar, an mhic agus an spioraid naoimh: Gaeilge. In the name of The Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit. Used to open mass (or it used to be. I haven't been for a while). 
24. Blaggard: Scoundrel.