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A Modern Celt

Seeking the Ancestors

John Hunt Publishing Ltd.

CHAPTER 1

From Here to Eternity – The Children of Danu

I never really referred to myself as a Pagan until I was in my early twenties. I always thought of myself as a witch, and I guess even with this I had my own definition. I know some people shy away from using the word witch because of its many negative connotations, but seeing as my path, or set of beliefs, wasn't really something I discussed with, well, anyone (not even some family members until quite recently), it didn't seem to matter. Meeting other likeminded, or similar minded people led me into the somewhat dubious habit of referring to myself as a Pagan, simply to help others pigeon hole me.

I'm not sure I actually fit the current definition of Pagan, seeing as most definitions you find will refer to the religious aspects of the term, and I do not think of myself as particularly religious. Understanding the changing of the seasons and the way the world transforms as it turns is not a religion. What I practise is about delight, celebration and respect; worship (which seems to be at the heart of most religions) has very little part to play in it.

In recent years I have been drawn more towards particular deities, and have to concede that this may be the first formation of some semblance of religious devotion. However, if life's path drew me away from this I would celebrate that life in the same way I do now. I don't so much 'believe' in gods and goddesses, but accept their existence; I've always found that belief implies doubt, and I have no doubts about the beings that share my world with me. It doesn't matter to me at all what others choose to put their faith in, or invite into their lives, except when I am sharing that experience with others directly. It's these shared experiences that have brought me closer to my Celtic heritage than I ever thought possible.

If you go to any Pagan gathering and ask ten different people what being a Pagan means to them, you will most likely get ten completely different answers! But I do practice witchcraft; I do follow the wheel of the year and celebrate the festivals accordingly and have done since I was a very young child, so because many Pagans do this I guess I fall into that bracket. So why, here, does it seem that I refer to myself as a Celt? A modern Celt?

Really that's an oxymoron, as the term Celt is a point of historical reference for a people that no longer exist; people who came to our shores from across Europe and possibly the Far East, bringing magic and mysticism which has been absorbed into history, tales and legends. When I speak about being a modern Celt, I'm referring to the aspects of the Celtic world that have survived into the 21st century; the festivals such as Samhain and Lughnasadh; art; beautiful poetry; magic, mystery and the stories and legends of their gods and spirits, including the race of beings known as the Tuatha Dé Danann.

... they landed with horror, with lofty deed,
in their cloud of mighty combat of spectres,
upon a mountain of Conmaicne of Connacht.

Without distinction to discerning Ireland,
Without ships, a ruthless course
the truth was not known beneath the sky of stars,
whether they were of heaven or of earth.

This excerpt highlights a key point for me; this uncertainty as to whether the Tuatha Dé Danann are truly otherworldly, or simply so fierce and unstoppable that they seem more than human: like phantoms; like spirits from another world. The Book of Invasions (Lebor Gabála Érenn) is broadly accepted as a fictitious version of the history of Ireland and, of course, having been written over a millennia after Iron Age Celts settled in Ireland, in a time when most history and legend was passed through word of mouth, there is no way to really say how much is exaggeration, and how much is fantasy. Perhaps this is part of the attraction; the history is debateable; even the legends themselves have many versions that are all well documented today.

It's tantalising to imagine that there really could have been a race of people, of beings so wild and unearthly as to inspire immense fear into an entire culture (The Fir Bolg in this case). The thought that humans themselves could have inspired such stories and legends is for me, in some ways, more exciting than the thought of a supernatural race. Imagine that in 2000 years' time you are thought of as so superior, so extraordinary, that you must be a god: heady stuff.

I don't want to confuse you – am I telling you that they are gods (and goddesses) or not? Do I revere and worship them, or not? I guess the best way to explain how I understand the Tuatha Dé Danann and their relationship to our universe is to look at some of the key characters from Irish legend; we can explore a few facets of how they manifest themselves in a modern world, and what benefit this can have.

The Morrigan: Bloody Queen of Battle

    Streaming red
    Cloak of hair
    Like yarn spun wild
    For a coat of dreams
    Of war and time
    To pass the line
    The blood along
    Like velvet wine
    Lady great and fierce of heart
    Builds you up then tears apart
    Protect thyself but know her if you can.
    Devotional verse for the Morrigan, 2012

Let me introduce you to the Morrigan. Well, I can't really. You will either know her at some point in your life, or you won't, and really, that's entirely up to you and her. It's possible she may be a presence you haven't even recognised. Ever felt that red mist rise up behind your eyes with very little prompting? Ever felt a fierce passion in what would normally be a dispassionate context, like the sudden urge to kiss in the cold rain?

In my experience, people I know have been drawn to the Morrigan for many different reasons; these people who feel this strong connection to her seem to gravitate together, sometimes becoming connected in ways that have little or nothing to do with their spiritual path at all. She is the phantom queen, a great red haired warrior who is fierce in battle, wielding sword and spell with equal ferocity. She is the dark haired maiden, scrubbing shirts by the ford, a prophetess, and a doomsayer. She is fear and anxiety, but also the resignation of things to come. She is the raven on the battlefield, plucking the eyes from fallen heroes, reminding us we are all the same in the end, and also that war and violence can be necessary, but may be futile. A really great book to read to explore all these aspects is The Guises of the Morrigan by Sorita d'Este and David Rankine. My goal here, however, is to tell you what it's like to experience her; face to face, toe to toe, and still be in a fit state to write the experience down!

The Morrigan was one of the first mythical creatures I ever knew of that related directly to the Book of Invasions, although I didn't know it at the time. I was reading The Weirdstone of Brisingamen by Alan Garner and the evil witch in the story is named The Morrigan. Like most baddies in kids' books she's a fascinating character; even though the similarity to the figure in ancient mythology is slim, well done to Garner for getting children like me to sit up and take notice of the names that come from our history and our legends, as of course it prompted me to ask questions and discover who the real Morrigan is.

After years of distant appreciation, I was literally astounded when I discovered that the first Pagan group I ever worked with took the Morrigan as their tutelary goddess. Here I was, apparently by chance, in a group of people who had made her the focus for all things magical. I had spent a great many years at this point being cynical and doubtful of many ideas that I had previously taken for granted. I had become wary of the idea of a presence of any sort of energy one may refer to as fate, or destiny, or the idea of being on a path where one is supposed to be.

This single incident alone pushed me closer to the idea of external forces guiding us than probably any other event in the past ten years. It was as if someone had said, OK, you want to know about your Celtic roots? Well let's introduce you to one of them and see what happens!

I've made her sound terrible and formidable, as indeed she is, but there is more to her than that. She is also a mother figure, and in modern popular culture is sometimes portrayed as being 'with child' in her dealings with other beings or humans. She is very sexual, and her sexual pursuits are often an integral part of legend. She is widely recognised as having a triple form, as many other 'popular' goddesses do – though I don't find her easy to simply put into the 'maid, mother, crone' goddess pot, although certainly at one time or another she clearly employs all these forms.

Badb and Macha, greatness of wealth, Morrigu–springs of craftiness, sources of bitter fighting were the three daughters of Ernmas.

Wealth, craft and violence are describing the three aspects of the daughters of Ernmas, often seen as three separate aspects of the one Morrigan. Often this is modified to Badb, Macha and Nemain, and Morrigan is used as a name for all the aspects put together.

I don't like to say one is right and another is wrong; I have found solace and understanding in many of her aspects, and believe that she is ever changing: mysterious and elusive. Even in Garner's book, she is portrayed as a shape shifter, and I think that is one of the keys to understanding her: she will change and you have to keep up with that change, or at least accept it, in order to understand it. If you reflect upon this, you will see that this is a very human idea; you are constantly changing and growing, therefore becoming a different person. As well as changing to develop ourselves in some way, we also change who we are depending on the situation we are in. We often use masks, figurative or otherwise (think about how you dress for work compared to a day around the house perhaps) and we change our manner to please others, or indeed to aggravate them.

We don't often admit to ourselves that we are doing this, and this is where the Morrigan may confront you; she forces you to face yourself, to see you as you really are, whether you like it or not! She can be cruel, but often it really is the old cliché of 'cruel to be kind'. There are some things you may have hidden about yourself, and she may shed light on them; other parts of yourself (such as insecurity or a tendency to try to please everyone) may fall into darkness as she takes you on the journey you need to go on.

One of my mentors once referred to her as the 'Domestos' of goddesses. This is a very apt metaphor for this book I think: in a modern world, she steps in and helps you spring clean; getting rid of the dust and clutter within one or many aspects of your life. These may be bad habits, destructive people, or the hundreds of other things we cling to in the false conviction that they are needed, that they are somehow 'part of our lives'. She gives you the power to say no, to walk away, but also to grasp hold of the things you need and the things you have to draw close to yourself.

She expects commitment and a true word, and you feel that she will be watching you as you watch yourself. If you say you are throwing something out then you better mean it, because she can be utterly devastating to those who go back on their word. But isn't this just me being hard on myself for failing? I hear the intelligent and cynical self-analyst say. Well, of course it is. All your power comes from within you at some level. The Tuatha Dé Danann aren't there to mollycoddle you or pick you up and set you on your path. They're there to remind you that you are the power in your life, and to fail in a promise to one of them is to fail yourself miserably.

The Morrigan is in some ways easily related to as the personification of our 'fiery' emotions; anger, lust, passion, the need for justice, protectiveness, love, creativity and excitement. She is also linked to deception and vindictiveness, and if you read some of the tales about her you will understand this.

Then came the Morrígu, daughter of Ernmas, from the elf-mounds in the guise of an old woman and in Cú Chulainn's presence she milked a cow with three teats. The reason she came thus was to be succoured by Cú Chulainn, for no one whom Cú Chulainn had wounded ever recovered until he himself had aided in his cure. Maddened by thirst, Cú Chulainn asked her for milk. She gave him the milk of one teat. 'May this be swiftly wholeness for me'. The one eye of the queen which had been wounded was cured. Cú Chulainn asked her for the milk of another teat. She gave it to him. 'Swiftly may she be cured who gave it'. He asked for the third drink and she gave him the milk of the third teat. 'The blessing of gods and nongods be on you, woman'.—The magicians were their gods and the husbandmen were their non-gods.—And the queen was made whole.

Prior to this excerpt, the Morrigan came to the hero Cú Chulainn in the guise of a heifer, an eel and finally a wolf seeking to destroy him, but he wounded her gravely each time. In the section on the previous page she uses further transformation and the strength of his greatest desire at this time – his overwhelming thirst – to trick him into healing her. Despite the fact that he knows from the battle previously that the Morrigan clearly has the power of shape shifting, he is not suspicious. Or, if he is suspicious, he is so desperate for succour that he is uncaring of the situation.

I suppose it's possible that in his tired and parched state, that it doesn't occur to him that the great Morrigan would ever consider portraying herself as old and feeble. He is grateful and sincerely wishes the old woman well, and his sincerity heals the wounds he originally caused. The messages within this story are numerous, but what I take from it is that a lack of pride at times can be a powerful shield; posing as a powerful creature only brought the Morrigan pain and suffering, but posing as the old woman brought her charity and kindness.

Sometimes we should give into the more fragile aspects of our character, and not be afraid to let them show, and we may find some of the things we need coming to us. I know people who are afraid to show certain kinds of affection, because they think it makes them look weak, or foolish. And even though they feel strong, and independent, they are lonely; they freely admit this, and feel they are better off in the long run. If that is true, well I say good luck to them. But perhaps letting down their guard, and letting someone get close, could be a wonderful thing? A new experience to be treasured?

I think often it is fear that stops us changing ourselves and transforming ourselves; not into another external shape, like the wolf or the eel, but into a different creature inside. We become scared of rejection, scared of change, scared of being too hard and above all too many of us fear the opinion of others. The Morrigan shows here the benefit of letting yourself change into something you never thought possible, never imagined you could be; and lo, she is healed.

The Dagda: Good God of the Club and Cauldron

There was a famous king of Ireland of the race of the Tuatha Dé, Eochaid Ollathair his name. He was also named the Dagda i.e. good god, for it was he that used to work wonders for them and control the weather and the crops. Wherefore men said he was called the Dagda.

Here again is a figure with multiple faces, although the most obvious is of the fierce warrior, with his enormous club that could kill nine men in one blow. The other side of this coin is, apparently, he could also revive the mortally wounded with the handle of this club. Straight away we are talking about the interconnectivity of life and death, and how in this world, one cannot exist without the other. The Dagda is, from this evidence, a metaphor for life itself; things die and things are born again, and without one the other would cease to be.

The Dagda was (is) also a musician, and closely connected with the turn of the seasons, and the onset of battle. Whoa, whoa, whoa I hear you cry! Where does it end? How can one deity encompass all this? And how can you draw upon something that has such ever-changing facets? It's like reaching into the cupboard to get the coffee only to find it has changed to tea, then the next day to sugar!

Well, this is why I have already mentioned the possibility that the Tuatha Dé Danann are a people, a race of earthly beings, rather than deities in the truest sense. Here's an exercise to help you understand what I mean: think of anyone you know, that you are reasonably close to. Tell me three things about them. Now take each of those three points e.g. they are kind; they can have a bad temper; they like to play football. Now tell me three details about each of those points.

We'll take kindness as our first example. You know they like dogs, because they have one which they love to pieces. You know they give to a charity for homeless people. And when you were short of cash, they lent you some money, although they were keen to get it back as soon as you could afford it. So that's three aspects of kindness right there. With regards to their bad temper, you heard them shouting at their brother once, in a fierce argument about a wager. You heard that they took gleeful revenge upon someone who played a practical joke on them at work. They also didn't talk to you for a week when you couldn't give them back the money you owed them! So there we go: even though we have only covered kindness and temper, we have already uncovered so many facets of this person's personality.
(Continues...)

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Excerpted from A Modern Celt by Mabh Savage. Copyright © 2012 Mabh Savage. Excerpted by permission of John Hunt Publishing Ltd..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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