Tag Archive | goddess

Brighid Playlist

Bridget – Ruth Barrett & Cyntia Smith
Brighid – Damh the Bard
Brighid’s Flame – Kellianna
Don
Don Oiche UD im Beithil (feat Ruth Barrett)
Holy Water, Scared Flame – Anne Hill
Imbolc – Lisa Thiel
Invocation to Brigid – Ruth Barrett
Brighid’s Kiss – La Lugh
Oiche fa Fheill’ Bride – La Lugh
Brighid of the Sacred Flame – Angela Little
On St Brighid’s Day – Ha’Penny Bridge
Mary of the Gaels – Maire Brennan
Brighid’s Flame – Jon Richards

Goddess healing prayer

Brighid, hold her in her arms

Keep her safe and give her healing.

Kwan Yin, watch over her and keep her safe ‘

In your loving compassion.

Green Man, send her your clean healing power

Let only good growth proceed from here.

Athena, guard her brain and keep her wits sharp.

Let her thinking be clear and have no more headaches.

Hestia, keep her family around her safe

While she heals at home.

Artemis, protect her and give her your warrior spirit

Keep her fighting to get well.

Airmid, guide her healing

Give her strength.

Isis, let the Know of your sash works

Let there be deep healing magic.

The Littlest Druid creates

Aisling watched the rain fall outside the stone window and expected that this was going to be a long day. It was a soft rain but steady and since it was just another day in a long line of rainy days. She sighed.

She supposed she could work on the piece she had been trying to write. It was almost La Fheil Brighde and she had been trying to write a new hymn to Brighid. It was the first time in almost a year she had been back to the village since she had been consecrated a Bard.

It had been a wonderful year but a lonely one. She had told all the stories she had learned. Learned some new ones along the way. Sung some songs and walked long distances alone except for sheep and a few wild deer she had been lucky enough to chat with along the way but now she was home for a rest and to celebrate Brighid’s day.

She wondered if Brighid was going to appear at the ritual. Here Aisling was one of many and the newest Bard still so she wouldn’t be part of the ritual unless she could come up with a good enough piece to please the Chief Druid and the Head Bard. The Head Bard had never forgiven her for her raven’s thievery so it was always hard to impress him.

She had a tune that kept circling her brain like her raven drifted in the sky but it wouldn’t settle in or enlighten her with the words that were supposed to go with it. She supposed she could go get one of the smelly sheep skins and wrap herself up in and find it but that had never worked well for her. All she could think about was the poor old sheep it had come from and they stunk. Sheep’s wool was still itchy on or off the sheep. She wondered if sheep itched from their wool but probably not and she couldn’t really ask them and get a good answer.

She decided to take a walk in the rain, maybe that would shake something loose. She grabbed her cloak and her carved staff which had gathered more carvings when she had been away and her bag with her whistle and started on the path out of the village to their standing stones. She could hear the sheep in the fold moving around and knew they would be out on the hills soon and giving birth. She wondered if her favourite ewe was pregnant again, she was an old friend.

It was too wet for the raven to be out and about so she walked alone up the hill. She pulled out the whistle and started to play the tune that was swirling in and out. It was lilting and she could almost hear the words but they were just out of her reach. She reached the circle of stones and sat with her back against one. Somehow these stones were always comforting. She could see the first snowdrops blooming on the hill behind the stones and she started to sing.

Spring comes and brings the lambs
Brighid comes and wakes our land
From darkest night to the coming of day
The light returns after darkest day

I sing of healing
I sing of new life
I sing of love and the return of the light

We are inspired and live to create
We use our hands, wonderous things to make
From nothing they come, to use they go
The coming of spring after winter’s snow

I sing of healing
I sing of new life
I sing of love and the return of the light

I sing of her guidance and the sense of peace
I sing of her patience while I try to create
I sing of inspiration and the raising of hope
I sing of her flame we keep in the grove

Brighid, I welcome you at the start of your day
Please guide me with your flames to light my way
Inspire me, create me a new every day
Forge me and make a flame for a day

I sing of healing
I sing of new life
I sing of love and the return of the light.

“Thank you.” a voice behind Aisling’s stone said and Aisling turned around quickly. Brighid was standing there in her beautiful green cloak and dress.

“You heard it?” Aisling finally squeaked out.

“Every word and note.” Brighid laughed softly. “It’s lovely and you had better share it.” She said with a twinkle. “Aisling, I thank you for honouring me with it. Blessings of the day, dear one” and she was gone.

Aisling shivered to herself. Brighid had liked it! That ought to be enough for the Head Bard but most of all it was enough for her. She settled back against the stone after tugging her hood back down on her curls. It was going to be a wonderous day.

Brighid prayer

Brighid

I ask your healing for people that I love

I light a candle and make a fervent prayer

That healing comes to those I love

Let me be your flame

Brighid

Let me your ears and hands here

Let me be the eyes that see those that need help

Let healing come through me

Let your waters flow through me

Brighid

I let you use me for what you need to do

Not just every 20 days but every day

Let me be your flame

Let me be your well

Brighid

Let me there for those in need

Let me go with a whole heart

Be thou with me

Let me be your flame

Brighid

Let me be open to helping

Whether it be a baby duck

Or a human being

Let me be your hands of helping

Let me be your waters

Brighid

Let me know when to let go

Let me know when not to step in

Let me know when beings

need to take their own path

Let me be your flame

Brighid

Let me be your hands

Let me be your eyes

Let me be your heart

Let me be your flame

Let me be your flame

Let me be your flame

Kat Robb 04/07/2014

Brighid prayer

Brighid

I light your flame for peace

I light your flame

I light your flame for healing

I light your flame

Brighid of three faces

I light your flame

Brighid of the forge

I light your flame

I light your flame for strength

I light your flame

I light your flame for knowledge

I light your flame

Brighid of the flame of nine tongues

I light your flame

Brighid, goddess of poets

I light your flame

I light your flame for growth

I light your flame

I light your flame in memory

I light your flame

Brighid, Goddess of midwives

I light your flame

Brighid, guardian of the passage into life

I light your flame

I light your flame for calmness

I light your flame

I light your flame for patience

I light your flame

Brighid, guide of lambs

I light your flame

Brighid, Goddess of Sunrise

I light your flame

I light your flame.

Kat Robb

My favourite holiday – La Fheile Brighide

La Fheile Bride/Là Fhèill Bhrìghde

My favourite holiday/sabbat is coming up. It’s the first hint that spring is coming soon, at least if you live in Southern California, it is. My daffodils are halfway out of the ground and our two camellias have been blooming. It’s not totally dark on my walk to and from the bus the way it was two weeks ago. The mockingbird is now singing to attract a new girlfriend from the four corners of his territory.

It’s Brighid’s time. When we go by the college on the bus, if we are lucky, we can see the first lambs in the field with their mamas. I don’t really have a favourite season because I enjoy them all here most of the time but the Goddess’s time is special and new. I think one of the reasons I love it is that there are no associations with the church calendar for me. Presbyterians don’t celebrate Lent the way Catholics do and there are no days that are special until the week before Easter. At least there weren’t any in the church I grew up in, if there had been there would have been a lot of old Scots raising a ruckus about being Papist. That’s the ultimate dirty word in a Presbyterian/Church of Scotland. The second worst thing is acting like a Baptist because they have no self-control or brains.

So it’s been fun over the last 30 years to research traditions from all over Scotland to use. The most easily accessible old source is “The Silver Bough” by F. Marian McNeill, which I see is now available on Kindle. It took many years to get all the volumes in book form. Every year, pre-internet, I would go to the Highland Games and hoped they would have at least one of the volumes and that it wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg because of the tariffs on imported books. It was only available in hard back and I think I paid over $30 for the first small volume, one was over $40. Now the volumes on Kindle are $9.99. I never paid that little of one volume. Makes this Scot a little peeved about the money I spent now. FYI: cheap and frugal are not synonyms.

Another good source is Carmina Gadelica collected by Alexander Carmichael. The only problem is most of the prayers have to be re-written since she has been made a saint. Somethings are easy to re-write, others not so much.

One thing is sure, she is a being of inspiration, protection and strength still.

The Littlest Druid learns to smith

The littlest Druid had finished her year of roaming and being a Bard. She had found out it had been so much more than she had thought it would be. She had thought it was going to be about just going around and sharing stories and songs and then she would be back in the village but she had wandered farther than she thought she would and that had taken longer than the prescribed year.

She had sung for the king and while she had been told all Bards were the king’s equal, she had found it hard to sing and pretend that she was. She had sat with the dying and soothed their passage to the Summerland. She had sung at festivities big and small and she had wandered over fields and meadows and through forests and over mountains. She had even soothed a couple of angry chieftains down and given them a solution to their problem, all the while being terrified they would think her a fraud because she was just a kid and might never make the rank of Druid. That had made her appreciate all the boring hours of memorizing those never ending laws and decisions but she was home now and the Chief Druid had her learning smithing! Why smithing? What did it have to do with being a Druid? She sighed.

Well, it really wasn’t just smithing, it was silver-smithing. The villlage’s smiths were all getting old and the Chief Druid decided that after all the returning Bards had finished their year they were too excited and not ready for more study quite yet so he decide to have them ease back into the learning mode and ease back into studying.

The silver-smith had been showing her how to make wire out of bigger and thicker pieces of silver, she was hot and sweaty and frustrated. The smith had left her alone in the smithy and went to go relax with the other craftsman in the village and she could hear them in the distance singing something and laughing.

She wiped her dripping forehead and winced when a drop of sweat got into her eyes anyway. Stupid stuff! Why did he need so much wire? Was this all smithing was? Whacking great hunks of metal into ever smaller pieces? She sighed again. This was so much less fun than singing for people or even sheep who wanted to hear her.

“Yes, there is more to it than whacking the metal.” A voice calmly said beside her.

Aisling dropped the heavy tongs she had been using on her foot. “EEEEEEEeeeee, Don’t do that!” she hopped and grabbed her foot and looked up. Brighid was standing there beside her and she was wearing a tunic and trews in green leather and heavy leather gloves and not the dress she had been wearing before. What???

Aisling stared at Brighid, “What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that? And where were you when I was gone all that time. I never saw you once. ” Aisling spit out while hopping up and down. That had really hurt.

Brighid picked up the tongs and looked at Aisling. “I walked right beside you the whole time but you never needed me and you did just fine. We all are there when you need us and you should know that by now.” Brighid moved toward the draw plate and grabbed the metal point that should have been becoming wire and began to draw it through the plate slowly and surely. She hardly seemed to be working as the silvery metal came through the draw plate in a smooth shiny beautiful and perfect piece of wire. Aisling stared and couldn’t believe it. She had been pulling and yanking trying to get the metal through the plate and had just gotten chunks. She had either pinched it too tight and the metal had broken or she hadn’t pulled hard enough and the metal hadn’t moved at all and the scrap bin was full of ugly short bits of silver. This so wasn’t fair.

She stared at Brighid. “How did you do that?” she was angry and also guilty, how could you be mad at a goddess?

“Didn’t you learn this year that before you could do a good performance you had to center yourself and find your calm spot” Aisling nodded slowly. It had been better when she had.

“This isn’t any different. I know you have chants you learned to make things like childbirth or dying or even putting the fire to bed every night easier?” Brighid looked at her raising a very red eyebrow.

Aisling nodded slowly again. She was beginning to feel a little stupid.

Brighid looked her in the eye and began to fit another piece of silver into the draw plate and picked up the tongs again after adjusting her leather gloves. Aisling heard her chanting to herself faintly and the silver began to flow smoothly again in that beautiful shiny ribbon.

“All work is easier if you work with it and all work has some magic to it. You just have to find it. Imagine what this silver is going to be when it’s used. Will it make a lovely pattern that will hold the glass enamel in a brooch or a crown? Will it gently clasp a stone to hang around a friend’s neck? Will it be wound around the hilt of a knife or sword?”

“When you make it you can add protection to it, you can add peace to it. You can even add love to it for all people just like you can when you make a poem or a song.”

Aisling listened and was thinking really hard. At first, she was a bit exasperated. Does everything have to have some magic in it? And then she realized that yes, everything should have some magic to it. Aisling looked up at Brighid who had been watching her thinking. She knew her small Druid. She’d get there eventually.

“Now, I want you to try,” Brighid said and handed Aisling back the tongs.

“But I don’t know your chant?” Aisling whined just a tiny bit, she wasn’t someone who normally whined but she was tired, this was really work.

“That’s the second part, this time you have to make your own chants. Every smith has their own. That’s part of what makes the magic. Put your own heart and hands in every piece whether you know who the piece is for or not.”

Aisling looked at Brighid. She could hear a chant starting in the back of her mind. Was that why the smith had left her alone? She grabbed the end of the metal and started to hum and pull and the wire started to flow for the first time. The metal flowed just like it was supposed to and she turned around and Brighid was gone. Aisling smiled and kept pulling, maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.