Review: The Torch of Brighid – Flametending for Transformation by Erin Aurelia

 

The Torch of Brighid – Flametending for Transformation by Erin Aurelia (2024) Moon Books

Nonfiction, Popular (Neo-Pagan) (Paperback, e-book)

 

The Torch of Brighid is a fascinating book, or rather, more than a book, a system, an elaborate blueprint of mythical references and mystical practices aimed at supporting and containing a deliberate and tightly focussed program of personal transformation. Aurelia gathers material together from historical sources, mostly Irish but some Scottish, mostly from texts but also from folklore, and builds her very modern practice on these foundations.

 

The sources she draws on range from the ogham to the The Oak of Mugna, which I confess I had never heard of before, “a joyous treasure” mentioned in the Metrical Dindshenchas. She draws on Brigidine flametending, visionary ritual and meditation, and offers a liberal salting of poetry, using all of these together to build a framework for deep transformation. Using the various symbols she finds meaningful, Aurelia matches the traditional twenty-day flame-tending cycle to the twenty féda (letters) of the ogham, focussing especially on the trees associated with these letters. 

 

Erin’s system is not for the faint of heart, or for folk like me who are dictated to overwhelmingly by chronic fatigue. It is intense, it is complex, and it demands a persistent commitment of time, concentration, and energy that are well beyond what I can do. I had to concentrate hard just to grasp what she was pulling together, because it is detailed and complex and I am not that well. But for someone with the ability and the desire, I can see the potential for this being a fruitful practice. If I was well, I would try it out; as it is, all I could do was read the book.

 

If you’ve read any of my previous reviews, you will know that I am often frustrated by authors’ failure to differentiate between their own UPG or interpretations of lore, and the traditions and texts they are drawing on. So you can imagine my delight at Aurelia’s wonderfully explicit disclaimer, with lists of what this book is not (reconstructing a past pagan practice, etc.) and what it is (presenting an inspired practice, etc.). I appreciate her willingness to find new truths in old materials without claiming that her work is an old practice newly revealed, and that she is in the main clear about where she has used traditional material and where she has followed her intuition. I found some of her insights and the practices she offers quite inspiring, such as the Mantle of Brighid exercise, which builds on grounding and energy work and is powerful and beautifully realised, as a brief excerpt will reveal:

 

“The Mantle of Brighid is an energy exercise designed to help you open your energy to and commune with Brighid. It works with three internal energy centers the Irish tradition calls cauldrons, and which I correlate with Brighid the Smith, Brighid the Healer, and Brighid the Poet. These energy centers are detailed in the writing called The Cauldron of Poesy, designed to promote poetic inspiration. The energy you move will not only fill you, but surround you, as Brighid’s protective and healing mantle is said to do. Use this exercise to prepare yourself for each meditation in your transformational flametending work…

 

“Now seat yourself comfortably, close your eyes and ground yourself with three deep breaths. In your mind’s eye, picture your internal bone structure, and the three containers within you formed by your pelvic bones, ribcage, and skull. In the first cauldron of the pelvic region, the Cauldron of Warming, envision a forge. Feel a connection in this region to the energy of the inner Earth, that roiling cauldron of liquid fire, and with your inhaling breath, draw that up into your Cauldron of Warming to light the fire of its forge. As you then exhale through pursed lips, feel and envision this forge fire igniting and intensifying. Take eight more rounds of these breaths to make nine in all, feeling this earth-fire energy grow within you as you inhale, and expand within you as you exhale…”

                                                                                                pg. 34 and 35

 

The difficulties for me: I find the language a little challenging – a bit more cerebral than I am used to and sometimes kind of hard work, as a result. There are some moments where she makes mistakes, such as mixing up details about Saint Brigit’s birth from the different Saint’s Lives (the Lives are contradictory and confusing). But these are nitpicks, and in general I am heartened by the extent of her research and the creative use to which she puts the material. I also appreciate that she relies on Erynn Rowan Laurie’s excellent book, Ogam: Weaving Word Wisdom, for her understanding of the ogham, as that is a solid piece of research and inspiration, itself.

 

In general, I would say that The Torch of Brighid would appeal to those who resonate with complex metaphor and ritual, more than those who prefer a less structured, impulse-driven style of contemplation. If you have the energy and discipline that this structure requires, the vessel Aurelia has created is a good one to hold and support your inner, transformational aspirations.

 Just a reminder to those who read books about Brigit that I have a whole slew of reviews of Brigit books which you can find on my this blog, Brigit's Sparkling Flame and at Academia.edu.

I have a store of new books to review over the next year or two, and these come out one at a time on the blog. (A few have already been added, such as Morgan Daimler's Pagan Portals: The Dagda - Meeting the Good God of Ireland.) When I am done reviewing them all I will update the paper, or perhaps just do a Volume Two.

This marks the first time there have been so many books about her that I am picking and chosing which to review, rather than going for every one I can find. If you have some obscure title I might miss and think I should review it, please let me know. Review copies of your own books are welcome, and that includes your poetry book! I confess that I am omitting a couple of books I would like to review because of costs.

Meanwhile…

Happy reading!

Image: "Libreria ambulante Santiago de Chile" by L'odyssée Belle on Unsplash.

It's Back in Print! Alice Curtayne's Saint Brigid of Ireland

 

One of my favourite books about Saint Brigit has come back into print after many years, Saint Brigid of Ireland by Alice Curtayne. Cluny Media of Rhode Island is a recent Catholic publisher focussed on reprinting books which are no longer available. In homage to SBI's reprinting, I will repost here my review of the book. (To read the original post with the other reviews included, click here.)

S^t. Brigid of Ireland, Alice Curtayne, 1954, Sheed and Ward, New York. 162 pp.

 “Already in her girlhood the lines of an exceptionally strong character are emerging. Her freedom won, the first use she made of it was to succour her mother, whose health was poor, but who was still engaged in the heavy labours of quern and churn.”

pg 28

Unfortunately long out of print and therefore pricey, you can try bookfinder.com for a second hand copy. Beware of mould. The one I ordered from Ireland was horrific to breathe next to. Try to get it from the library if you can, perhaps on interlibrary loan.

This passionate and beautifully written book took me by surprise. I read it over twenty-five years ago, at a time when I was interested in Brigit the saint only as a lens through which to glimpse the goddess, and the book had little to offer me then. It altered in my mind into a quaint and archaic piece of Catholic introspection, confused with Lady Gregory's “Brigit, the Mary of the Gael”¹. I’m happy to have returned to it at a time when I can appreciate it.

Curtayne, a native of Brigit`s Kildare, writes from the perspective of a devoted Irish Catholic. Grounded in Church and Irish history and the stories of Celtic saints, she is aware of the significant role Brigit plays in Ireland: “She stands in the first shaft of light that illuminates our history, literature, topography, art and architecture ... Her contemporaries re-named the landmarks, recast the whole topography of the island, in order that she should be remembered (pg 4-5).” 

She touches on the limits and privileges of free women, then settles into the dark burden of the bond slave², ending with a dramatic ushering in of St Brigit: “She stood isolated, without prototype, without peer (pg 9).” This reads at first like faith-driven hyperbole, and certainly faith plays a large part in her view of Brigit, but as the book unfolds she argues her case from a variety of materials, and the picture she paints is intriguing, filled with nuance and unexpected detail.

Curtayne clearly and extensively locates Brigit on the historical stage of her time. She explores the political climate of turbulence tempered with unity that then existed, particularly in the region of Ireland where she lived, outlining the struggle for territorial dominance between Leinster and the southern Ui Neill, the contention over the position of High King, and the backlash against a punitive tax levied on Leinster. “In striving to evoke the atmosphere of the fifth century, the reader must hear the clash of arms as the perpetual undertone to all other sounds (pg 16).” Some of her details may be arguable in light of modern research; nevertheless, situating her so clearly in her environment makes this an excellent introduction to and contemplation of Brigit and the world she emerged from.

She offers a glimpse of the lives of early Irish nuns, and knits together Patrick’s picture of Irish religious women with Brigit’s Lives as well as historical and mythic texts. She discusses how Brigit’s community might have looked, how building might have proceeded, what her chariot would have been like and how it would be to travel in it. She examines the Lives to learn of the character of the woman they depict, and finds much that I miss when reading the tales—her physical strength, for instance, as one who works hard in the dairy. The image of robust health and physical power that Curtayne envisions, so different from the assumption of beauty as slim elegance, gives us a homespun Irishwoman with acuity of mind and the confidence of an aristocrat. There is of course a taste of the good Catholic girl so familiar from Saints’ tales. But she is so much more than that here.

When she tells a tale from the Lives, Curtayne couches it in the background of the age: in discussing the ale references tittered at by moderns, she describes the role of ale, made fresh and weak and used as a common daily beverage, not a special drink to make men wobbly. In telling of her refusal of marriage, she lets us know clearly the privileged life—to a poet, that nobleman of the Celtic world—that Brigit was passing up. She ties together disparate bits of information—Brigit born a slave, daughter of a tribal leader: in attempting to wed her to a poet, he has in fact offered her the highest possible social position, and throughout her life she behaves as a woman who retains the power and self-assurance of her father’s class.

In telling Brigit’s stories this way, introducing ideas from ancient Ireland, such as regarding class or attitudes toward lepers, contrasting them with attitudes current in Biblical or modern times (the 1950s), and then personalizing the story, she gives often told and sometimes stilted stories new life. She reconnects them to a world and time other than our own and then imagines a human within them—how Brigit might have felt and why she reacted as she did. Finally, she will hint at, or carefully unfold, the symbolism or spiritual lesson she perceives there. 

In approaching the material as if Brigit was a real and historical figure, and in dramatizing to great effect, she expands our understanding not only of the story and symbol of Brigit, but her place in the story of Ireland. Unique in my reading about Brigit is the revelation of her here as a source of pride and unity for a country whose people had for centuries been oppressed and despised. This message, which comes scattered in various forms throughout the book, is an important reminder. Brigit may be internationally loved and venerated now, but this is a new version of her, added to and subtracted from without our necessarily noticing. Placing her back into this setting is important both for our understanding of Brigit and for our honouring of her origins and the people who introduced us to her.

Curtayne's belief in God doesn't lead her to swallow everything that “pious hagiographers (pg 19)” have written. She seeks rational understanding while at the same time turning over the spiritual lessons found in Brigit's Lives. But she does accept that miracles happen. “The stories (of her generosity) ring true, because for the most part they are at once extraordinary and trivial. If a later biographer were minded to invent miracles for Brigid, he would use rather more imagination and tell of something more impressive than a little food conveyed furtively to a dog (pg 21).” 

At times she struggles to make peace between her rigorous intellect and her faith. She says Patrick, having lived earlier than St Brigit, could not have known her. But in the Book of Armagh it is claimed otherwise. She accomodates this by saying that because of Brigit’s friendship with intimates of Patrick, it “may be taken as essentially true (pg 45).”

A little stretch of the truth is permitted elsewhere, too. “Not the faintest breath of scandal ever touched the double monastery founded by Brigid and Conlaeth (pg 63).” Now, it states clearly in the Liber Hymnorum that “She blessed the pregnant nun, she was whole without poison, without illness”. Perhaps this was some neighbouring nun, not of Kildare ... ³  Or perhaps this was not a scandal in Brigit’s day—it certainly doesn’t read like one in the tale.

Curtayne grounds Brigit to some extent in the mythology of her people. In telling the tale where Brigit gives away her father’s sword, she refers to the heroic sword given by a fairy queen which grew so long it touched the heavens like the curve of a rainbow. And she links Brigit directly to those heroes of old. “This strange creature, in whose veins flowed the blood of Conn of the Hundred Battles ... (pg 26)” This Brigit, though unapologetically Christian, becomes more truly Celtic and Pagan than many versions of the modern, reimagined goddess.

But she stops short of linking St Brigit directly to the goddess whose name she shares. While not denying the connection, she brushes it aside, refering in passing to “fearfully dull books” that suggest St Brigit was not a real woman, but only a product of the goddess (pg 109). 

In so many ways, the Brigit in Curtayne’s book takes on life and character, and in doing so, allows the reader to connect more fully with her meaning in his or her life. To Curtayne, Brigit is not merely a symbol. Her miracles, some though not all, are real. Her envisioning of Brigit’s life surpasses even Kondratiev’s⁴ imaginings, and is founded on a broad knowledge of the Lives, her times, the Celts, the Bible, and the history of the Church.

We are given Brigit’s presence in Ireland and her effect on it, the building of communities, the hosting of intellectual circles surpassing anything in England or on the Continent of that time. A careful comparison between Celtic Christianity and the Christianity of St Francis⁵, insight into St Brigit’s reaction to the violence around her, with its parallels to the Troubles yet to come in Ireland, her examination of difficult spiritual truths⁶—Curtayne approaches her topic from a dizzying multitude of angles. In a rare moment of she writes: “But not to incur a charge of bathos, it would be better, perhaps, not to mention in the same breath with the Brigidine circle Madame Récamier’s salon, or the “intellectual afternoons” of Hannah More and George Eliot (pg 69).” 

A rich offering indeed.

Purchase here.

Review of River Magic by M. A. Phillips, book one of The Rituals of Rock Bay

 

Review of River Magic by M. A. Phillips, book one of The Rituals of Rock Bay (2020) Shadow Spark Publishing

 

First, what I like:

 

I want to say right from the start that I really like this book. It has a kind of ebullience and innocence about it that is really charming. The protagonist, though imperfect, as we all must be, has an integrity that guides her actions, and a passion for life that goes beyond herself and her friends, to the beings, sometimes familiar, sometimes frightening, that dwell in the world around her. It also deals with something I haven’t seen represented much in fiction: The coming of age of a modern Neo-Pagan woman.

 

Lacey Moran has explored Paganism with her friend Lidia since their school days, but she hasn’t really found her spiritual home. When Lidia opens a metaphysical store in their village of Rock Bay (situated along the beautiful Saint Lawrence River – a visit there is now on my bucket list), a group of modern Druids book the space for their Imbolc ritual. This ritual introduces Lacey to the goddess Brigit, and a connection is made immediately. (Hurrah! This is why I decided to read and review this book.)

 

Lacey has also had cryptic dreams of a mermaid in the river. Coming from a family with a talent for premonition, Lacey knows that many of her dreams foreshadow events to come. Do these?

 

Now, I have completely left out the other main theme of this book: the love that Lacey has for her longtime friend, Cian, and her conflicting feelings about becoming romantically involved with him. Cian is a feature of these dreams, making them more concerning to her. What do they mean?

 

Book Review: Pagan Portals – The Dagda: Meeting the Good God of Ireland by Morgan Daimler

 

Pagan Portals – The Dagda: Meeting the Good God of Ireland

Morgan Daimler (2018)

 It’s strange to feel so excited to read a book that has actually been waiting in my bedside cabinet for nearly two years. But that’s how it is. And now that I have now finally read The Dagda, I can’t stop raving about it. It is a jewel on my bookshelf.

 Pagan Portals – The Dagda is far from the first book I’ve read by Morgan Daimler, nor will it be the last. They have become one of my favourite authors for a few simple reasons: their research is meticulous, they draw together the important myths, gleaned from early and modern texts – they even taught themself how to read old Irish because they wanted more than the translations they had on hand were offering. Daimler has a wonderful way of looking at things from a new angle, and this book continues in that tradition.

 I was looking forward to this book in particular because I was drawn to The Dagda, personally. He drew me initially by his own personality and his actions in the tales, particularly of his building single-handed a fort for Bres, and carving out twelve plains in a one day. But more important was his being father to the sisters Brigit. Because Brigit is so important to me, I wanted to cultivate an acquaintance, at least, with someone who helped shape these sisters as they grew.¹

 The Pagan Portals series is devoted to short books – up to around a hundred pages long – that are meant to introduce the key elements of a deity or topic. In this case the book is nearly eighty pages, and they have divided the material up well. In chapter one, “Who is The Dagda?” they begin by giving his names and the epithets that describe him, and address how a sense of his nature can be drawn from them. This necessarily takes us into the myths themselves, so although they don’t tell them exhaustively, they reveal enough that we can understand why he might be called Eochaid Ollathair, and that “The Dagda” means “The Good God.” But what does that mean? Does it mean he’s a nice guy? Well, no. It means he is good at all things. So just the definition of this one name, and he has many, tells us something important about him. This initial chapter grounds us not only in his names, but in how he’s been described physically in the tales, and gives a glimpse of his relationships with others. (This is a complicated kettle of fish as he has many lovers, many children, and his children, like himself, have run into real difficulties because of some of those lovers).

 One thing that Morgan always does which I greatly appreciate, is they provide useful end notes to each chapter, and provide a good bibliography. I can see where they’re getting their information from; I don’t have to just trust them. I can then decide whether I agree with their take on things, and that is important to me, especially in something so essential as the nature of the deities.

 The second chapter is “The Dagda in Mythology.” Here they explore where The Dagda figures most prominently in the different texts. As they work through these, his personality and what he may represent to the devotee become more and more clearly defined, leading to an overall sense of what we know of him. This chapter also has an interesting reassessment of the Samhain sex tryst between The Dagda and The Morrigan.

Review: Saint Brigid of Kildare: Life, Legend and Cult by Noel Kissane

Kissane, Noel. Saint Brigid of Kildare: Life, Legend and Cult (2017).

Noel Kissane’s book on Saint Brigit is unlike any I have previously read. Readable, immense in scope, it places her within the context of medieval Irish and Continental Christianity while also examining the minutiae of her cult.

Kissane traces the early development of Christianity in Ireland, such as the process of conversion, and sets Saint Brigit in the context of bishops like Palladius and Patrick. Important texts about or mentioning her are discussed, their dates estimated and implications considered. Various older images of Saint Brigit which we encounter on the internet are identified with their original sources. The lives and intentions of authors of early poems and Lives dedicated to her are delved into. Artistic depictions are listed. Her folklore, the history of Brigidine nuns, cultural movements that drew inspiration from her are examined—and so on and on.

If you were to attempt a pilgrimage through Europe dedicated to Saint Brigit, this would be an essential reference book. Irish placenames linked to her, monastic communities and churches connected to Kildare (ca. 1000 C.E.), and current dedications from churches to Gaelic Athletic Associations are listed and their history briefly recounted. The origin and movement of her various relics (including more heads than most people can boast) is investigated, and he details her cult across Europe, distinguishing between churches named for St. Brigitta of Sweden versus those named for St. Brigit of Kildare, where to the untrained eye these wouldn’t be easily teased apart.

I especially enjoyed reading Kissane’s depiction of life in Ireland during her era—setting her tales against that essential background is not done enough.[1] He goes deeply into the role her supposed tribe, the Fothairt, played in that society (working as mercenaries for other tribes) and what this implies for her, and compares the claims of different locales for her birth, growing up, or veiling ceremony. (I am now convinced it was Mac Caille, not Mél, who gave her the veil, but you may come to a different conclusion.) Amply sourced and footnoted, with an index that includes a breakdown by Irish county and town, it has a bibliography to bring joy to the researcher’s heart. Such are the delights of this book for Brigit scholars.

It is delightful, as well, to have so many oddities of the lore explained. For instance, why do we sometimes encounter the suggestion that Cogitosus (author of her earliest Life) was Brigit’s nephew? (Because of a misreading of a garbled manuscript.) Could Patrick actually have converted Brigit? (Nope.) Why did the Scottish claim her as their own? Was she ever in Glastonbury? Etc. Some of these are explained elsewhere, of course, but no other text tackles so many of these questions as this one.

Little space is set aside for the goddess, naturally, as she is not the subject of this book. However, I am disappointed that Kissane accepts without really questioning, and offers as a statement of high probability if not fact, the hypothesis, generally discounted by modern scholars (for utter lack of evidence), that Kildare was a pagan community dedicated to the goddess Brigit.[2] He even adds to the usual story his own details, such as that the saint may have converted separately from the community (pg. 90), and that she probably inherited a “countrywide network of established holy sites” (pg. 118). I fear that his elaboration of these and related ideas will just add to the rampant confusion around this. I am not opposed to him speculating. I simply wished he had made it clearer that this scenario was unweighted by evidence, and had offered the contradictory view as well. He has such a richness of factual matter here, and many of his speculations throughout the book seem more carefully reasoned. In this area he seems to lose sight of the boundary between conjecture and supportable theory. He goes so far as to say, “It is almost certain that to some degree the early Irish converts to Christianity conflated the saint with the goddess and regarded the saint as retaining and manifesting certain of the qualities and functions of the goddess” (pg. 93). But it is not almost certain. Now, if he had said that it was almost certain that they saw elements of a goddess in the saint, I would be much happier. But to presume the existence of this Brigit goddess sanctuary is venturing too far into conjecture to be certain of anything.

Another instance of unsupported speculation, much less worrying, is when he states that the story of Brigit’s mother’s status is much more likely to be correct in Vita Prima (slave) than in Cogitosus’s Life (noble woman) because there would be no reason to invent her illegitimacy. I can think of one good reason: Christ was born to a woman who was unmarried at the time of his conception. As in other saints’ Lives, many of the elements of Saint Brigit’s hagiography are meant to reflect moments in Jesus’s life as a way of showing her holiness. They reflect but do not exactly copy them. Could this be an instance of the same? I give this example only to say that speculation is just that, and we should never take it, when unsupported by excellent evidence, as any more likely than any other explanation to be true.

There is another good reason for making her illegitimate. Cogitosus was apparently a monk at Brigit’s monastery at Kildare (though a good while after her death); the author of Vita Prima was loyal to Armagh, St. Patrick’s seat of power. Kildare and Armagh were in the throes of a struggle for ecclesiastical supremacy. As Lisa Bitel writes in Landscape with Two Saints, unlike in Cogitosus’s Life, in Vita Prima and other later Lives Brigit “submitted to male religious officials, never competing directly for territory or space” (pg. 176). In this way she is subtly shown to be Patrick’s inferior, making Armagh the legitimate religious centre of Ireland. Would it not benefit such an agenda to have her the daughter of a slave, where Patrick was the son of nobles?

But such matters hardly mar my pleasure in the book as a whole. There is a goldmine of information here, including facts that, for all my scrutiny, I have never come across before, and which put into a much clearer order the normally shifting sea of matters Brigidine.

Highly recommended.

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[1] See Christina Harrington’s Women in a Celtic Church and Lisa Bitel’s Landscape with Two Saints for very fine exceptions to this rule, as well as Alice Curtayne’s much earlier St. Brigid of Ireland for a less academic and slightly more fanciful but nevertheless excellent example.

[2] See Christina Harrington’s Women in a Celtic Church for a detailed explanation of how this hypothesis came about and the changes in scholarship that have led to its general rejection today.

Review: Pagan Portals—Gods and Goddesses of Ireland by Morgan Daimler

Daimler, Morgan. Pagan Portals—Gods and Goddesses of Ireland: A Guide to Irish Deities (2016).

Once again I come away from reading one of Morgan Daimler’s books with a sense of excitement and the urge to wave it in front of all sorts of people saying, “You want this book!” Why, in this case?

If you have ever plunged into Irish mythological texts, or even modern writings about the Irish deities, you will have quickly discovered that there are a LOT of names in there, all baffling if you are unused to Irish spellings, or are unaware that there are multiple forms and spellings for every name, not to mention the plethora of different persons associated with each god or goddess. In one story he is married to so-and-so, in another he is cavorting with someone else; here she is a sympathetic character, there she is a trickster or a dupe. How do you keep them all straight? And how begin to build a sense of each deity in his or her own right and complexity? How winnow through opinion and fact, misinformation and changing perceptions over time? How, on top of all of this, do you honour those you are drawn to?

There are a number of excellent tomes that cover Irish deities and myths in depth. Their worth is undeniable. But if you want to narrow down your focus you would be hard pressed to find a source that maps things out as clearly and beautifully as Pagan Portals—Gods and Goddesses of Ireland.

The Pagan Portals series is a brilliant idea. Each book is short—in this case less than ninety pages—and serves as an introduction to its subject that offers enough information to set you clearly on your path without overwhelming you with detail. It is possible to read one quickly enough to retain a good sense of the general scope of the book, to leave you feeling less rather than more confused.

In this case, Daimler’s purpose is to offer sound scholarly information about the deities in an easily accessible style to assist those interested in following an Irish Pagan path. This book could be of use both to newcomers to Irish Neo-Paganism and to those who have been immersed for some while.

She tackles her topic by dividing the book into three main sections covering the gods of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the goddesses of the Tuatha Dé Danann, and Irish deities of different or uncertain origins. Instead of limiting herself to the handful of deities we encounter again and again, Daimler includes a number who are much more obscure. She somehow strikes a balance between giving a satisfying survey of their names, relationships, attributes, associations, and elements of their stories, and holding back enough detail that the reader doesn’t end up becoming lost in the thickets.[1] (It must be very hard to stop herself at times—she is well versed in her topic and has many fascinating gems at her disposal.) She is concise and clear without oversimplifying, frequently giving conflicting points of view and allowing the reader to follow up on them if desired rather than simply offering her own favourite theory and omitting all controversy. As well as those of Celtic scholars, she offers perspectives of Irish Neo-Pagan practitioners, and ends each entry with suggestions for how we might honour a given deity in our own lives.

In addition to the individual entries, which range from less than half a page for a deity like Neit, about whom little is known, to over four pages for Macha, Daimler offers excellent advice on how to build a relationship with the deities—not a prescription of rituals and offerings, but an approach to learning and relating that is as wise as it is clear (and again, succinct). A bibliography and recommended reading list are given at the end of the book.

I had not originally thought to include this review in Brigit’s Sparkling Flame. I changed my mind for the simple reason that Brigit is not an isolated goddess, but a part of a rich tapestry of deities from a complex culture, and having a clearer sense, even just a beginning sense, of some of the other gods and goddesses can only strengthen our understanding of and relationship to her. I can think of no better book to wave before Brigidines for this purpose than Pagan Portals—Gods and Goddesses of Ireland.

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[1] One detail I find especially interesting which is not often included is the particular geographic area a deity is linked to, where that is known.

Review – Poems for the season of Imbolc by Kris Hughes

Poems for the Season of Imbolc by Kris Hughes

US$8.00

I recently received a very short, self-published chapbook by an author whose writing I was not familiar with. I get nervous about reviewing people’s work—I don’t like to hurt feelings but I also don’t like to say I love something when I really don’t. Somehow the stakes seem even higher when it is self-published, I suppose because they don’t obviously have anyone else promoting the work for them, so more depends on one review, but equally they may well be depending entirely on their own eyeball when it comes to editing, layout, and so on, which as many writers have shown is not always a great idea. So it was with some trepidation that I awaited delivery of this booklet.

It arrived shortly before Imbolc. To my relief, it looked pretty darn good. The layout is done with an artist’s eye, though there is little decoration; it is printed on nice paper; there were no wild claims on the back cover: all promising signs.

Because of its subject matter, I wanted to review it right away so people could know about it before the feast day, but it is my busiest time of year and it just wasn’t possible. At last today I had a clear enough mental space to sit down and read the whole thing at once and pay it the attention it (and the author) deserved. I have to say—I love it.

Twenty pages all told, including front and back matter, Poems for the season of Imbolc focusses on the Scottish tales of Bride, Angus, and the Cailleach. There is a short and useful introduction and then four poems, “If Angus Would Come,” “The Cailleach Becomes Bride,” “Cailleach Rant,” and “Woman of the White Sky.”

Apart from “Cailleach Rant,” which is a prose poem of gathering power, the poems are free verse, telling their stories pithily and beautifully. Their tone ranges from lilting and passionate to wild and world-shaping, climaxing in a defiant call to giant selfhood.  I will give two small tastes, but far better that you read the book all at once. Often this is not the case with poetry. It’s best to take deep sips of one or two poems and then sit with them before going back. But Poems for the season of Imbolc is strongest when taken all together, from the longing of Bride for Angus to the transformation of Cailleach to Bride to the roar of the Cailleach to women everywhere, to the brief silence of the final poem of praise to her.

… If Angus would come

He would search for me

Guided by the light of a thousand candles

He would know my abode

By the sark I have hung on the window sill

It collects the snow, to be wrung as dew

To ease his wounds when he comes …

                        from “If Angus Would Come”

… I cackle again from the treetops

raising a storm that sends the cattle

lowing and bucking in indignation

from sleet like knives

for the shelter of the dyke

The ponies

lower their heads to the ground

tails plastered to their legs …

                        from “The Cailleach Becomes Bride”

What does it feel like when life turns out not to be a journey, after all, but an immense impermanence?

                                                from “Cailleach Rant”

Review: Picture Book - "The Story of Saint Brigid" by Clarke and Croatto

The Story of Saint Brigid by Caitriona Clarke, illustrated by Barbara Croatto, Veritas (2015), 23 pp..

This small, slender, and well produced picture book in one way resembles adult books about Saint Brigit more than most picture books: rather than telling a single, unfolding tale, it picks a number of items of information about the saint and briefly recounts them, opposite illustrations that highlight one of the items mentioned on each page. My limited experience with reading books to children suggests that this sort of thing is often of less interest than a gripping story line. Nevertheless there are times when this kind of thing is just the ticket, or is at least a pleasant way to learn a lesson—in this case, who is Saint Brigit? In this particular instance the book is aimed at Irish school children who will have heard often about her, perhaps even go to a school named for her, and so will be more inclined to be curious about the answer to that question than a child who hasn’t grown up knowing her name. Published by Veritas Publications, it comes from an unapologetically Catholic perspective.

I like the easy, conversational tone of the book, beginning with the first page, where Clarke addresses the child reading the book (or more likely having it read to them). “Have you ever heard of Saint Brigid? ... Maybe you have made a St Brigid’s Cross out of reeds? Maybe even your school is named after her!” This engages the child him- or herself, letting them know that this story is about their lives, too.

I was startled on the next page of text to learn of Saint Brigit’s mother that, “it is thought she was captured by pirates in Portugal and brought here as a slave—just like St Patrick …” I have never heard this before. I am more familiar with the suggestion that Broicseach was the daughter of Dalbrónach of the Dál Conchobair in County Meath. I am delighted to learn of another folk geneaology and would love to know where the idea started and how common the belief is in Ireland. In the fifteen hundred years since Saint Brigit’s birth there has been ample time for shifts in and additions to her stories, departures from the texts that I largely rely on for things like this.

I was also surprised to read that Brigit’s father, Dubhthach, had chosen to name his daughter after “the goddess of fire, who was thought to be gifted in poetry, healing, and craftsmanship.” Of course, there is no basis for this in any of the texts, but it is a neat way of connecting the two in the mind of the reader without supposing that they are the same person. This of course would get some backs up, but as I am of the opinion myself that they are not the same person, though they have grown together in our modern understanding, it doesn’t bother me at all, and I appreciate the nod to the goddess.

From this point on there are no surprises. We are told the familiar outline of Saint Brigit’s life, pared down drastically for the brevity of a picture book, and learn of the emphasis in her tales of generosity, compassion, and holiness. Her founding of a double monastery which was in time to produce great works like the (now lost) Book of Kildare is an addition which I favour, taking her out of the sweet holy girl category and placing her into the powerful efficient woman category—a good model for young people to be aware of.

We are told of the use of Saint Brigit’s Crosses in Irish homes for protection of people and animals against illness and their homes from fire, and of her holy wells in healing. There are some humorous elements, such as the expression of gobsmacked horror on the king’s face when Brigit’s cloak is spreading out over his land. The book concludes, “In her, Ireland can proudly lay claim to a wise and charitable woman who devoted her long life to the service of others.”

I have mixed feelings about the artwork that accompanies the text. Mostly, I like it. It is has a light touch which works well with the sparse, friendly writing. There are clean lines against colourful washes and a good sense of design, and there is, as mentioned above, a touch of humour in some of the images that appeals. What I don’t like, and this is purely a matter of taste, is how Croatta draws many of the human faces, which feel a bit awkward to me.

On balance, I like this book.