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Mo Ghile Mear

Because I have an earworm this morning
Lyrics

Lá na mara
Lá na mara nó rabharta
Guth na dtonnta a leanadh
Guth na dtonnta a leanfad ó
Lá na mara nó lom trá
Lá na mara nó rabharta
Lá an ghainimh, lom trá
Lá an ghainimh

(The day of the sea
The day of the sea or of the high tides
To follow the voice of the waves
I would follow the voice of the waves
The day of the sea or the ebb tide
The day of the sea or of the high tides
The day of the sands, the ebb tide
The day of the sands)

Can you feel the river run?
Waves are dancing to the sun
Take the tide and face the sea
And find a way to follow me

Leave the field and leave the fire
And find the flame of your desire
Set your heart on this far shore
And sing your dream to me once more

‘Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear
‘Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear
Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin
Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

(He is my hero, my dashing darling
He is my Caesar, dashing darling
Rest or pleasure I did not get
Since he went far away, my darling)

Now the time has come to leave
Keep the flame and still believe
Know that love will shine through darkness
One bright star to light the wave

‘Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear
‘Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear
Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin
Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

Amhrán na farraige
Ór are na seolta
Amhrán na farraige
Ag seoladh na bhfonnta…

(Song of the sea
Gold on the sails
Song of the sea
Sending the melodies…)

Lift your voice and raise the sail
Know that love will never fail
Know that I will sing to you
Each night as I dream of you

‘Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear
‘Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear
Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin
Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

Ag seinm na farraige
Ag seinm na farraige
(Playing the sea
Playing the sea)

Seinn… Play…

‘Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear
‘Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear
Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin
Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

Gile mear, the wind and sun
The sleep is over, dream is done
To the west where fire sets
To the gile mear, the day begun

‘Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear
‘Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear
Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin
Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

‘Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear
‘Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear
Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin
Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear
(Since he went far away, my darling)

Amhrán na farraige
Ór are na seolta
Ag seoladh na bhfonnta
(Song of the sea
Gold on the sails
Sending the melodies)

Written by Paddy Moloney, Sean Macreamoinn

Flameshift

100618_1000 (1)

Every day and every night that I say the genealogy of Brighid
I shall not be killed
I shall not be harmed
I shall not be put into a cell
I shall not be wounded

No fire, no sun, no moon shall burn me
No lake, no water, no sea shall drown me.

For I am the child of Poetry,
Poetry, child of Reflection,
Reflection, child of Meditation,
Meditation, child of Lore,
Lore, child of Research,
Research, child of Great Knowledge,
Great Knowledge, child of Intelligence,
Intelligence, child of Comprehension,
Comprehension, child of Wisdom,
Wisdom, child of Brighid.
Carmina Gaedelica edited by Lunea Weatherstone

May my words be as considered as poetry,
May I reflect on all I do or say,
May I meditate on those things important spiritually
May I seek to know more of the lore
May I research what I am curious about and what will enable me to grow
May I seek to know great knowledge,
May I acknowledge the intelligence of others
May I comprehend what I seek to learn and apply those lessons
May I know that seeking wisdom is not the same as being wise.
May I be a child of Brighid.

SelfBlessing is by me

137618_900

Brighid, bean-oirdheirc
Lasrach grad
Fetaim lasrach soillse
Thoir cuireadh sinne
ris a’ bheatha
mhaireannach`

Brighid, Sublime Woman
Quick flame
Long may you burn bright!
You give us the invitation
to life everlasting

168553_100

I remember this day for my people. Blood of my blood

On Culloden field

http://www.nts.org.uk/Culloden/Home/

May the dead lie peacefully here
May they know their lines carried on all over the world
May they know we remember them
May they know we still bear their names
May they know that through us they still live
May they know we remember their bravery
in the face of a well fed and well armed army
when you were hungry and armed with little more than swords
against cannons.
May they know we remember the sometimes foolish seeming cause
May they remember
May we remember
May we remember
May we remember

I remember the Stewarts of Appin
I remember the MacGregors
I remember the Livingstons
I remember the Robertsons
I remember my dead.
Kat Robb

Flameshift

100618_1000 (1)

Every day and every night that I say the genealogy of Brighid
I shall not be killed
I shall not be harmed
I shall not be put into a cell
I shall not be wounded

No fire, no sun, no moon shall burn me
No lake, no water, no sea shall drown me.

For I am the child of Poetry,
Poetry, child of Reflection,
Reflection, child of Meditation,
Meditation, child of Lore,
Lore, child of Research,
Research, child of Great Knowledge,
Great Knowledge, child of Intelligence,
Intelligence, child of Comprehension,
Comprehension, child of Wisdom,
Wisdom, child of Brighid.
Carmina Gaedelica edited by Lunea Weatherstone

May my words be as considered as poetry,
May I reflect on all I do or say,
May I meditate on those things important spiritually
May I seek to know more of the lore
May I research what I am curious about and what will enable me to grow
May I seek to know great knowledge,
May I acknowledge the intelligence of others
May I comprehend what I seek to learn and apply those lessons
May I know that seeking wisdom is not the same as being wise.
May I be a child of Brighid.

SelfBlessing is by me

137618_900

Brighid, bean-oirdheirc
Lasrach grad
Fetaim lasrach soillse
Thoir cuireadh sinne
ris a’ bheatha
mhaireannach`

Brighid, Sublime Woman
Quick flame
Long may you burn bright!
You give us the invitation
to life everlasting

168553_100

Flameshift to calm my own fears

100618_1000 (1)

Every day and every night that I say the geneology of Brighid
I shall not be killed
I shall not be harmed
I shall not be put into a cell
I shall not be wounded

No fire, no sun, no moon shall burn me
No lake, no water, no sea shall drown me.

For I am the child of Poetry,
Poetry, child of Reflection,
Reflection, child of Meditation,
Meditation, child of Lore,
Lore, child of Research,
Research, child of Great Knowledge,
Great Knowledge, child of Intelligence,
Intelligence, child of Comprehension,
Comprehension, child of Wisdom,
Wisdom, child of Brighid.
Carmina Gaedelica edited by Lunea Weatherstone

May my words be as considered as poetry,
May I reflect on all I do or say,
May I meditate on those things important spiritually
May I seek to know more of the lore
May I research what I am curious about and what will enable me to grow
May I seek to know great knowledge,
May I acknowledge the intelligence of others
May I comprehend what I seek to learn and apply those lessons
May I know that seeking wisdom is not the same as being wise.
May I be a child of Brighid.

SelfBlessing is by me

137618_900

Brighid, bean-oirdheirc
Lasrach grad
Fetaim lasrach soillse
Thoir cuireadh sinne
ris a’ bheatha
mhaireannach`

Brighid, Sublime Woman
Quick flame
Long may you burn bright!
You give us the invitation
to life everlasting

168553_100

Deep Peace

Deep peace I breathe into you,

O weariness, here: O ache, here!

Deep peace, a soft white dove to You;

Deep peace, a quiet rain to you;

Deep peace, an ebbing wave to you!

Deep peace, red wind of the east from you;

Deep peace, grey wind of the west to You;

Deep peace, dark wind of the north from you;

Deep peace, blue wind of the south to you!

Deep peace, pure red of the flame to you;

Deep peace, pure white of the moon to you;

Deep peace, pure green of the grass to you;

Deep peace, pure brown of the earth to you;

Deep peace, pure grey of the dew to you,

Deep peace, pure blue of the sky to you!

Deep peace of the running wave to you,

Deep peace of the flowing air to you,

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you,

Deep peace of the sleeping stones to you!

Deep peace of the Yellow Shepherd to you,

Deep peace of the Wandering Shepherdess to you,

Deep peace of the Flock of Stars to you,

Deep peace from the Son/Daughter of Peace to you,

Deep peace from the heart of Mary to you,

And from Bridget of the Mantle

Deep peace, deep peace!

And with the kindness too of the Haughty Father Peace!

In the name of the Three who are One, Peace!

And by the will of the King/Queen of the Elements,

Peace! Peace!

From “the Dominion of Dreams under a Dark Star by Fiona Macleod (1895)

Poetry Month – Bi Ann!

Bí ann, bí liom
Bí gasta, bí cróga
Bí cliste, bí cinnte
Bí casta, bí glic
Bí grámhar, gealgáireach
Bí socair laistigh
Bí doimhin ach bí éadrom
Gan teannas ar bith
I do chorp, i do chroí
I do cheann, ins a tslí
Ina chuireann tú tú fhéin i láthair
I pé chomhluadar ina bhfuil tú
Bí ann liom
Bí láidir il-dána
Nuair a chasann an domhan
Bí ann dom
Agus buailfimid le chéile
Nuair a thagann an t-am

Be there, be with me
Be quick, be brave
Be clever, be sure
Be tricky, be sharp
Be loving, light-hearted
Be steady inside
And be deep but be light
With no tension inside
In your body, in your heart
In your head, __
In the way which you present yourself
In whatever company you happen to be
Be there for me
Be strong and be able
When the world takes a turn
Be there with me
And we will meet together
When the right time comes

-Kila-

and just in case you want to hear it out loud: http://smile.amazon.com/dp/B0032K6SVA/ref=dm_ws_tlw_trk9

On Samhain from my clan chieftain

Samhain shona daoibh, a dhaoine uaisle! (Merry Samhain, ladies and men!) History of Samhain Samhain marks one of the two great doorways of the Celtic year, for the Celts divided the year into two seasons: the light and the dark, at Beltane on May 1st and Samhain on November 1st. Some believe that Samhain was the more important festival, marking the beginning of a whole new cycle, just as the Celtic day began at night. For it was understood that in dark silence comes whisperings of new beginnings, the stirring of the seed below the ground. Whereas Beltane welcomes in the summer with joyous celebrations at dawn, the most magically potent time of this festival is November Eve, the night of October 31st, known today of course, as Halloween. Samhain (Scots Gaelic: Samhuinn) literally means “summer’s end.” In Scotland and Ireland, Halloween is known as Oíche Shamhna, while in Wales it is Nos Calan Gaeaf, the eve of the winter’s calend, or first. With the rise of Christianity, Samhain was changed to Hallowmas, or All Saints’ Day, to commemorate the souls of the blessed dead who had been canonized that year, so the night before became popularly known as Halloween, All Hallows Eve, or Hollantide. November 2nd became All Souls Day, when prayers were to be offered to the souls of all who the departed and those who were waiting in Purgatory for entry into Heaven. Throughout the centuries, pagan and Christian beliefs intertwine in a gallimaufry of celebrations from Oct 31st through November 5th, all of which appear both to challenge the ascendancy of the dark and to revel in its mystery. In the country year, Samhain marked the first day of winter, when the herders led the cattle and sheep down from their summer hillside pastures to the shelter of stable and byre. The hay that would feed them during the winter must be stored in sturdy thatched ricks, tied down securely against storms. Those destined for the table were slaughtered, after being ritually devoted to the gods in pagan times. All the harvest must be gathered in –barley, oats, wheat, turnips, and apples –for come November the faeries would blast every growing plant with their breath, blighting any nuts and berries remaining on the hedgerows. Peat and wood for winter fires were stacked high by the hearth. It was a joyous time of family reunion, when all members of the household worked together baking, salting meat, and making preserves for the winter feasts to come. The endless horizons of summer gave way to a warm, dim and often smoky room; the symphony of summer sounds was replaced by a counterpoint of voices, young and old, human and animal. In early Ireland, people gathered at the ritual centers of the tribes, for Samhain was the principal calendar feast of the year. The greatest assembly was the ‘Feast of Tara,’ focusing on the royal seat of the High King as the heart of the sacred land, the point of conception for the new year. In every household throughout the country, hearth-fires were extinguished. All waited for the Druids to light the new fire of the year –not at Tara, but at Tlachtga, a hill twelve miles to the north-west. It marked the burial-place of Tlachtga, daughter of the great druid Mogh Ruith, who may once have been a goddess in her own right in a former age. At all the turning points of the Celtic year, the gods drew near to Earth at Samhain, so many sacrifices and gifts were offered up in thanksgiving for the harvest. Personal prayers in the form of objects symbolizing the wishes of supplicants or ailments to be healed were cast into the fire, and at the end of the ceremonies, brands were lit from the great fire of Tara to re-kindle all the home fires of the tribe, as at Beltane. As they received the flame that marked this time of beginnings, people surely felt a sense of the kindling of new dreams, projects and hopes for the year to come. The Samhain fires continued to blaze down the centuries. In the 1860s the Halloween bonfires were still so popular in Scotland that one traveler reported seeing thirty fires lighting up the hillsides all on one night, each surrounded by rings of dancing figures, a practice which continued up to the first World War. Young people and servants lit brands from the fire and ran around the fields and hedges of house and farm, while community leaders surrounded parish boundaries with a magic circle of light. Afterwards, ashes from the fires were sprinkled over the fields to protect them during the winter months –and of course, they also improved the soil. The bonfire provided an island of light within the oncoming tide of winter darkness, keeping away cold, discomfort, and evil spirits long before electricity illumined our nights. When the last flame sank down, it was time to run as fast as you could for home, raising the cry, “The black sow without a tail take the hindmost!” Even today, bonfires light up the skies in many parts of the British Isles and Ireland at this season, although in many areas of Britain their significance has been co-opted by Guy Fawkes Day, which falls on November 5th, and commemorates an unsuccessful attempt to blow up the English Houses of Parliament in the 17th century. In one Devonshire village, the extraordinary sight of both men and women running through the streets with blazing tar barrels on their backs can still be seen! Whatever the reason, there will probably always be a human need to make fires against the winter’s dark.