I wonder if their parents are sorry they are bigots now?
Once upon a time, Aisling was sitting on the side of the hill above the flocks of sheep. She was thoroughly wrapped in a sheepskin coat and leggings and she wondered if the sheep cared that she was wearing one of their old friends. It made her feel funny until she remembered how cold she would be if she wasn’t wearing them. She was feeling marooned.
She’d been sent out here to watch for the ewes to start bearing their lambs. She wanted to be back at the village while they got ready for Imbolq but once again she had made herself unwelcome. Everyone was all excited for the feast and ritual. Most of her friends were more excited about the feast than the ritual. It had been a long time since the Winter Solstice festival and the winter had been cold and hard. It was time to celebrate spring’s return.
She had been trying to help out with all the preparations but her teacher and the Chief Druid had finally sent her out here to be with the sheep.
They had told her it was a very important job but sitting here alone in the cold it didn’t seem so important. It seemed like punishment. She lowered her head to her knees and felt a rush of self pity.
She always meant well but things just didn’t seem to ever work out well for her. She had been helping with the beeswax candle making but got distracted making wax build up on her finger. She couldn’t help how nice and warm the wax had felt on her hands and it smelled so good!
Somehow the druidess in charge of the candlemaking hadn’t seen it that way. She’d gone over to hold the wool that a group of women were spinning and some how it ended up in one big knot instead of a ball that they could use to knit.
So now she was here, by herself, while the regular shepherds went in for dinner and a nap. They had told her not to worry. None of the ewes were ready to give birth yet so all she had to do was sit.
So she sat in the dark surrounded by sleepy, stupid sheep even the sheep dogs had gone with the shepherds for their dinner. She gave a heavy sigh.
The Chief Druid had said this was an important job because they couldn’t start the celebration until the ewes gave birth and their milk came in. This usually happened around a full moon and a half after solstice so it was a few days yet. He had said someone had to be here because sheep sometimes got into trouble and the mother died giving birth so someone had to be with her and some one had to make sure the lambs would be alright. Aisling just felt punished and not important at all. The only thing she could see was that if there was extra milk there would be really good cheese and she loved cheese.
She was trying to stay awake by counting falling stars and watching the Aurora shift and move across the sky. One of the boys had said it was Brighid’s green skirt moving across the sky and she wondered if she tried hard enough she could see the rest of Brighid.
She was starting to get really drowsy when a ram hit her from behind and rolled her forward into the grass. “Hey!” The ram stood looking at her and then turned to run across the field. He stopped to see if she was following so she did.
He turned around and started running again toward the far eastern part of the field. She struggled to catch up. He was moving really fast. She had no idea a sheep could go that fast. She fell twice and each time he stopped and waited for her to get up.
What was happening here? The shepherds had promised nothing would be exciting in the least but she had a feeling they were wrong. At the edge of the field was a dip and in that dip was a very pregnant ewe. She was bleating softly at the ram and she looked like she was trying to give birth. She was on her side and Aisling knew that wasn’t good. Sheep give birth lying down but she didn’t look right.
The ram butted Aisling again. Aisling knew she was in real trouble. The sheep’s side was heaving as she strained. Something was very wrong and Aisling was very scared. They had promised nothing would happen and as usual they were wrong! She had never even watched let alone help a sheep give birth and there was no one else around.
Aisling started praying to Brighid because she couldn’t think of anything else to do while she patted the sheep and tried to remember to breathe.
What was she going to do? If the sheep or the lambs died she’d be in real trouble then and it would mean a bad celebration and year.
She was too far away to call for help. She just kept stroking the sheep’s head and felt a tear down her cheek. She’d really done it this time. They had promised it wasn’t time yet!
She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. There was a woman in green kneeling next to the sheep. The woman smiled at her and began to touch the sheep gently to find out what was wrong.
She motioned to Aisling to hold the sheep’s upper body and rolled up her sleeves and reached into the sheep’s birth canal to straighten the lamb that came sliding out. The sheep gave a jerk and turned to lick her lamb while the lamb tried to stand. The woman gently pushed the lamb toward the mother’s teat and wiped her hands on the grass.
She watched the lamb and ewe for a moment and smiled. She stood up and gave Aisling a hug.
“You did well and now you better go tell the shepherds and the Chief Druid what has happened. It’s time for the feast.”
Aisling looked at the woman. She was dressed all in green with embroidery of red, black and white around her dress. The woman had red hair worn in braids like a crown and had warm blue eyes. Aisling wanted to ask her name but she had a feeling she knew who she was. She had asked her to come after all.
“Yes, I am who you think I am. You asked with all your heart and I came to help. Prayers are always answered when you ask. You just may not like the answer.”
Aisling looked at her with doubt. She looked at the Goddess and she looked at the ewe and her lamb. The ram had sat down with his legs folded under them and just looked at the two of them. She decided they were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Brighid gave Aisling’s hair one final stroke. “You’d better go and tell them the news.” She said again and gave Aisling a slight push. “But don’t tell them I was here. Let it be our secret. They don’t need to know. Well, maybe the Chief Druid.”
She laughed and walked away over her shoulder she said, “Keep trying Aisling, just keep trying.”
Aisling took off running back across the field. The boys were right. The Aurora did look like Brighid’s skirt she thought as she ran.
Offerings to Brighid can be a bit hairy traditionally because the tradition offering at a well was a clootie or piece of cloth with a plea for healing or help and it’s hairy because is the plea to the well or is it to Brighid? That being said when some wells or water sites sacred to Brighid are filled with coins and jewelry and other things that past supplicants have tossed in asking for help.
I suppose the corn dolly left out at La Fheile Brighde is a sort of offering also as well as making Brighid’s crosses. It was traditional to leave an oat cake or bannock, a small sheaf of oats, porridge, a cup of milk and or honey which also happen to be offerings left for the fae. And cloth was left out in the hopes that Brighid would touch it on her way by.
But really, the offerings to the goddess, Brighid are the many poems and songs that have been offered about her both in the past as recorded in the Carmina Gadelica by Alexander Carmichael and those being written today. For what better offering is there than the fruit of our heads and our hearts and hands? Everything I smith, everything I write, everything I sing can and often is an offering to the Goddess. She really has never asked for more.
Brighid watch over us
May your flame light our way
Through the night
Through the storms
Through our tears
May your waters sooth and heal
Heal our hearts,
Heal our bodies,
Heal our minds.
May your forge make us strong
Strong enough to fight what needs to be fought
Strong enough to accept what can’t be changed
Strong enough to stand under the burdens we accept
Brighid, we burn your flame
We drink from your well
We are strong when we are weak because we have your blessing
We drink from your well to be healed
We walk in the mist following your footsteps.
We carry your flame with us and give to all who need it.
Brighid, we are your flames in the world.
Kevin Logan and the ‘male feminists’ of Youtube regularly go after Thunderfoot aka Phil Mason and other MRA’s for their anti-feminist views while perpetuating the same attitudes and crap arguments they do. Kevin Logan can point out flaws in other people’s arguments but resorts to MRA strawman-type arguments in order to shout down women and girls.
In this video, Kevin makes a bale of hay.
Go to 46:10 and listen for a few minutes.
The best part was his set up. He’s a feminist because he’s able to learn dammit! He’s able to LOLgically see the world for what it is, uh, except for, uh, those nasty women and girls who want privacy rights. And those would be TERFS! He despises those privileged bigots who get video recorded and assaulted by males in what’s supposed to be a legally private space.
He also doesn’t get that men claiming to be women are invading…
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