Bridging The Goddess

In writing this, I must first declare, that I’m not a theologian, scholar or expert of any kind.

I’ve Celtic blood in me and grew up, listening to the old people and learning from the land, I also had to listen to what I was taught in School.

In my home and childhood, the 1st of February was such an exciting time, racing up the bogs to see and hear the frogs spawning, was a huge delight, it was the start of hope and Spring! In the sheds, the cows were beginning to calf, which meant a lot of late night visits with my Dad, in the dark of night, sitting on the hay, smelling all the scents of reality, nature and life.

My first memories of this time were of leaving out the “Brat Bride” a white cloth or rag that would be touched by Brigid, as she passed by. For someone with a huge imagination, this fuelled endless visions of the woman flying through the sky, tapping all with her magic wand.

Of coarse, in school, we learned of a “saint brigid” a girl who converted to the new religion, gave butter and food to the poor. When her father (a horrid Pagan) looked in the pantry, all was restored as good as new!

She also, asked a horrible Pagan Chieftain for land, she asked for all her cloak would cover, he mockingly agreed. When she laid down her cloak, it grew and grew, until it covered all his land, so, he had to relinquish it and convert.

An old lady, who was our neighbour, would gather the rushes and we would make crosses together, sending them out across the globe.

Growing up, I found the story of Brigid's cloak a bit weird, never knew why, until later on, I started reading and realised I was a Celt, paganism was my heritage and began to discover, question and learn.

The story of Brigid’s cloak, bothers me because it has Brigid using trickery and device to what she wants! It resonates back to the idea of Eve, the apple and the idea that a woman can never be trusted, no matter how much revered!  I also felt the Celtic Chieftain was hard done by, he was only believing in what he believed as right.  Her cloak had more to do with the land, the Goddess was now awakening. 

Putting that bigger Debate to one side, It’s more productive to talk about the Goddess Brigid and of ways and reasons to honour her at this time.

1) The Brát Bride is a piece of white cloth, that you leave outside, either on the night of January 31st or February 1st, Brigid will bless this and you keep it for the year. It is said to have healing powers, especially with childbirth, when a cow was calving, we would take the Brát and a christian medal to bless the animal (the old Gods and the new).  I’ve been a bit mad with my Brát this year, but will cut up and give out as gifts! I also made a piece of felt, inspired by yesterday's fantastic clouds! 

My own Brát Bride

A felt piece, left out last night

2) The cross is probably the most well known features of Imbolg, I hope I’ve covered everything about about here in my video; 

3) The Biddy or the Brideog is a doll, simple in design and carried around the community, a bit like the wren boys in December.  The Biddy is a bit more sinister, its more influenced by the sap rising and a bit of scamping as well. I remember, the first biddy I saw was when about thirty people all dressed up, cramped into our house, singing, dancing and conducting mayhem, they had an accordion, drums and a bugle, it was about 10 o clock at night, fun and scary at the same time, they were collecting money for charity, a practice that still goes on, n Kerry today. My Dad would always fondly remember himself and his cousin's wife , practising and swapping genders for the night, confusing everyone!

The Biddies I remember were crude rag dolls

The Brideog must have started as a corn/rush Dolly of sorts

4) The 1st or 2nd of February is a great time to start gardening!  Winter is still in our midst, but you break up the earth, as Brigid is creating growth, repot some plant or even begin to plan your garden, if you’re in a city, set some mustard or cress, something that doesn't take too much care to grow, so as to avoid disappointment!  Great as well, to grow something you can eat. 

Over the last decade, we have become divorced from the land and see it only as monitory value, interest rates and Negative/Positive equity, the land is a life giving source and should treated, worked and valued more respectfully.  Even taking a walk in Nature and really seeing and feeling what there is to see and feel, or just feeding the birds!

Dug up the vegtable patch, getting ready for gardening.

From a very young age, I've always been fascinated with Mother Nature and the seasons, back in 2004, I put together my first "Glitter na Gig puppet show about Spring taking over the throne from Winter, it and many other stories toured very successfully throughout the country and beyond, I've taken time out to write up the collection and film the shows, here is an excerpt; 

The Spring Puppet.

All this unrest made Winter curl his upper lip as if to smile and he forgot his looming departure. suddenly, the puffing and howling of Polaria shattered the silence of Winter's icy court, as she breezed in, as a blue haze from the sky.  He greeted her kindly and worshipped her great work, but then declared his fear to Polaria, soon they would be melted and replaced by a warm glow, destroying their fiendish work.  Polaria refrained from answering for a moment, only looked out ahead of her and waited. 

Winter thinking she had not heard him, growled at her, to get her attention.

Polaria calmly declared

"We don't have to give up the throne, Winter"

Winter jumped off his cold silvery seat and pleaded 

"Carry on, Polaria, what do you mean?"

Polaria  

"If we get Spring to reject the throne three times and not tell her the magic word

Winter  "tà-hay-len"

Polaria  

"Not tell ANYONE the magic word we mustn't mention it at all, it is too powerful to bandy about"

Winter nodded in agreement and questioned further  "but how could he stop spring taking the throne? The cycle of the seasons is unstoppable and Mother Nature could surely"

Polaria             "if what I've heard is right, soon, we won't have to worry about Mother Nature"

Polaria whispered an awful plan into Winters ear and they both laughed thinking of "Winter forever"

Polaria blew herself out of sight and left Winter thinking to himself the wonders of eternal cold and the prospect of a very prolonged reign.  Suddenly, the air took on a beautiful scent and a slight sense of hope wafted throughout the land, Badger and all the animals felt a hint of happiness and the trees stretched out their buds for a moment.  There was a faint sound of fairy music, the magical tone of petal bells could be heard from the West, cobweb drums and beautiful voices started reaching across the sky.

All that heard, took a deep breath and exhaled with the words

"She's coming, Spring is finally coming!"

Sure enough, glimmers of a turquoise gown with silver trimming could be seen through the now ever so slightly regenerated branches, wisps of golden hair were seen in the sky and there was a warm feeling spreading across the hearts of all the creatures throughout the land.  Soon, Spring had composed herself and with all the vibrancy of her youth and innocence of her mind, she headed up the mountain touching branches and starting the buds to grow,as she went, blowing warmth on the little birds, giving them all the hint of a new lease of life, making merry with all the animals, until she arrived at her destination-Winter's throne.

Happy Imbolg to everyone!

A very Mary Christmas!

First draught of a christmas short story, needs a lot of work and editing, but needed to put it up!

A very Mary Christmas

It was that time of evening, getting dark and Mary was sick to the teeth of listening to the league of  kitchen Island complainers, ringing in to tell Joe, their broken nail problems. She stared out the window, wondering if being a tough and independent woman, rearing tough and independent children was all it was cracked up to be.

The two were off on their own now, doing their own thing as she had vigorously taught them to do, loving their own families and not caring about their mother, as that mother made sure they would do!

Has that plan back fired a little? If Mary was left on her own, it would have been fine, but the humiliation of being dragged down to the Community Hall, to be paraded as needy and fed like cattle from a trough was the main problem.

From the window, she could see that goddamn cat, he was around yesterday, she surprised herself, when she hit it with the cracked cup from under the sink, a fine crack rang out when she walloped the thing on the head. There it was again, wandering around, calling for a mother that was probably flattened by a speeding car, how pathetically frail it looked, how pathetic she was herself, redundant, praying for a happy death and a quick Community Christmas dinner!

Last year was horrible, Mary arrived in with her best clothes on, but no, that wasn’t good enough, a young girl, who could never give a blow-job, because of her teeth latched on to Mary like a leech and wouldn’t let go, until Mary surrendered and was brandishing a cheap and tacky “Christmas Jumper” and paper hat, plonked down, next to country farmers who never looked in the mirror, loved only their mother and ate like prisoners, trying desperately to keep their teeth in some sort of position and Mary was left there, to her own trying to understand the old boys, who were also jumpered!

After dinner, the chubby, red-haired gay boy sang exhausted country and western songs, as Mary clapped and smiled, she thought to herself, “that fella should be out, getting naked with some other gay fella rather than singing to a crowd of deaf Granny’s!”

After the entertainment, came the bloody raffle, where every senior citizen won either a bucket of talcum powder or a pint of fowl smelling perfume, or a mixture of both, it seemed to scream out “ we’d rather power hose you, than ever have to engage with you intellectually.

After the humiliation of the raffle, Mary thought, she could slink away with her gallon of Tweed, but oh no, there was three hours of Bingo to go yet!

The worst part of the whole day was Joan Bradshaw, three years behind Mary in school and acting like a teenager, dressing up like a pop star, only thing giving her away was it looked as if she padded her bra with pringle boxes. Joan was stuck in every committee, campaign and charity, helping this bastard to do that and that bitch to do this, always a sign of a sexless and unhappy marriage, tis with the chubby singer, her husband would rather want to be with, but the gushing, the emotion, the speeches and the grandiose way of telling everyone of all the time, money and energy she spent looking after everyone was the main problem, you’d swear she was Geldof feeding fecking Africa, for Christ's sake. Her speech ended with all her unhappy and sexually frustrated sidekicks, clapping themselves into an other worldly oblizion, some of them even crying, a good ride would sort them all out!

Mary left a saucer of milk outside the door, for that rotten kitten, the vermin tried to coax his way in, rubbing his way around her legs, she tossed him across the yard with her foot and watched as he rolled across the gravel, as she closed the door, her mind went straight back to her ordeal.  For five hours, she was trapped in that damp hall, with industrial noisy, smelly heaters, to be dumped at her own dark door, without one person actually talking to her, treating her like a person, only smiling stupidly at her and taking photos with her, as if she was a deserted donkey.

She consoled herself with the thought, “I suppose they mean well, but they just don’t get it”.

As she sat by the range, the fire got warmer, the evening got darker and the baileys got bolder!

Her breathing got stronger, her eyes got heavier and her body got limper, she was asle…………………………………………

It’s hard to describe how someone gets into a dream, only the dream itself and Mary was there, it took a while, to take in where she was, what she was actually seeing, but soon she was comfortable.  Holding her father’s hand, on the road home from Healy’s, she was wearing that red coat that made her feel like a princess, how she cried when she grew out of it and had to watch her cousin, now be the princess. it was dark but not scary, all the candles in the windows welcomed any traveller. Her father telling her, “tonight, the seaweed turns to silk, the gravel turns to diamonds and the ocean turns to wine” her mind was racing with the image and wanted to head over the field to the strand, but, dad offered a warning, “no one has seen it and lived to tell the tale” that was that. scene after scene changed to different times in her life, those times in her life when she denied herself everything, if only she knew then, priests were more horny than holy, her life would have be very different. She was at Charring Cross tube station, telling Julian, that she wouldn’t be going to Blackpool with him, as he was a Protestant and could easily compromise her soul. He was devastated and she loved him. She could feel herself rising out of the scene, higher and higher she went, seeing all of London.

She first noticed, the dribble down her cheek and then, that bastard of a cat, on her lap!

The tractor like purring was seeming to hypnotise her and unwittingly, her hand was moving closer to stoke his frail, soft and spirited body.  With every stroke, a strange kind of feeling filled her, everything seemed possible, her life was hers and if she wanted to be odd, she had every right to be!

Once her plan started to come together there was no stopping her, first, she rang John the Taxi Driver “John, I won't be going tomorrow, thank you” she left the message, a job well done. Next, she’d have to be patient, because… 

Jesus, the phone, Mary put on her glasses and looked at the number-it was Geldof herself! How quick the bush telegraph works, or did Joan have Mary's phone bugged?

Mary had to answer otherwise she’d be around with some sidekick, like Batman and Robin, averting a major emergency. 

Quick thinking was needed to put an end to this whole sorry saga.

Mary had just said a calm Hello, when Joan Gushed in, like a flash flood of sewer water!

I’ve to collect Breifne from the bus, he’s going to Belvedere, don’t you know, he was so good at pretending to be homeless, that i’m buying him, a new set of golf club’s

He got a pair last year on his trip to Florida, but the new Barth & Sons set is out and I know he’d like them. but, are you alright, Marie? Why aren’t joining us tomorrow?

Is there anything I can do for you? I just love helping people like you!

No, no, you’re fine, Joan, looking at the cat, I’ve a visitor, just arrived.

Oh, who’s that?  Who’s called?  They can come along too, don;t you know, if they’re not needy, they can just pay €20.

Mary had never played the old lady card before, but decided the devil drives when the needs must.

The forecast is for dry weather and that’s a blessing.

But Mary, who is the visitor?

Sorry Joan, I have to……. Grate the Brussel sprouts, happy Christmas.

But Joan, who?

Mary put down the phone and punched the air, she was free! She found herself rubbing the cat’s head and trying to figure out a name, she can’t keep calling it obscenities.  She now had to plan out, her own Christmas day and would need help, to get things from town and she wasn’t talking turkey.

Sally, the young girl next door, had just turned 18.  During the summer Mary had spotted her with a boy, at the turn of the road.  Mary had been browsing with her  binoculars, she always used her binoculars, but only for security purposes. She got a great view of the boy tugging at Sally's skirt and lifting her top, there wasn't much to lift.  As Mary watched the passion unfold, she found herself being envious, but that age-old confusion about who she was envious of, the tugger and lifter, or the tugged and lifted?   It didn’t matter, as Sally caught Mary looking and stuck her middle finger up at the spy. Mary knew, that Sally knew, what Mary saw and that was good enough.

She waited til she saw Sally leaving her home and called her over, what a state Sally Looked, black eyes like a Badger, hair styled with lard and more tights than clothes, but they stroke up a conversation and a deal was made, Mary knew they would intrinsically linked for this bargain, for better or worse, it was done.

Christmas morning, Mary woke with Hobbit purring like a Massey Ferguson, wrapped around her head, as if he was if this, was what he was born to do and be, she turned over for another sleep, what a luxury?

Soon after, she was woken with a belting at the door, she put on her nightgown and slippers and headed to the gateway of her private World, It was Joan! Wearing a jumper, that looked as if Santy vomited it up, after a feed of glitter, curry and drink, yet still not hiding her Pringle boxes and a tracksuit bottoms.

Hello Mary, I just can’t help caring about people like you. 

With a flash of inspiration, Mary beckoned to be quiet, as the visitor was asleep, which he was.

Oh right, I brought two Christmas dinners, from my own table, As you see, Deirdre  was finishing her PhD and…..

Mary took the plates, smiled and thanked Joan, but made a face as if she had no choice, but to go.

Watching a puzzled yet indifferent Joan getting into her BMW, she gave a great sigh of relief, it was over!

Mary put on the red dress that was about twenty years old, She couldn’t figure out, if it was due to fragility or seize, but she couldn't zip it up to the top, but she had a purple cardigan, that covered up any anomalies, she then pulled out a pair of shoes, that like Cinderella, could easily turn into a walking aid at midnight, if she wasn't careful, but didn’t care.

Sally called over, fixed up Mary’s DVD player and put on “Thelma and Louise” Sally also announced she could visit tomorrow and start teaching about the internet, twitter and texting!

Later, that evening, Mary sipped from her glass of blue wicked (she’d rather Baileys, but that was Sally’s idea) and as she studied the pack of Silk cut purple, she saw the big lettering "SMOKING KILLs" she chuckled to herself and whispered "bring it on". She Watched Hobbit gorging himself on the two plates of rubber that Joan brought. As Mary settled down to eat a yard and a half of After Eights.

She raised her glass and said “Fuck you” to the world and looked forward to two thousand and ………… whatever it is.

The end.

Equal Marriage Campaign!

As a gay man, who has lived very comfortably in the countryside, more than any city, for most of my life. I’d like to talk about the Equal Marriage Referendum.

I closely watched the Scottish Independence Referendum, not as a supporter of either side, but as an observer.

The “yes” campaign offered a very big change and had very big emotions attached to it, the idea that this was the right way to go, it was just, fair and historically laden.  While, the “no” side was very clear; change could lead to the breakdown of Scottish society and with it being unchartered waters, who could say whether or which.

Now, I don’t want to get bogged (or even blogged) down about Scotland, but just to draw some parallels to our own marriage referendum and trying hard to keep emotions out of this. 

Giving Gay people the right to marry is the way to go, I know it and if you’re reading this, you know it.  Yet, being just and right has it’s drawbacks, we have more to lose, not just the right to marry, but being endorsed by this beautiful Celtic country, that I’m so proud of.

Whereas, the NO side has just to appeal to peoples “it’s alright as it is” button, with a few more arguments thrown in.

But, let me be clear, the No side have every right to exist, I’m all for free speech and freedom of religion, it’s when those rights impinge on my rights, that it gets problematic.  Anyway, the No side have their part to play in all this and here’s where I’d like to make a few suggestions for the yes side.

Very district in Ireland has more than it’s “only gay in the village” and if these people with their supporters came together, I’m not asking for every gay man and woman to be a Lady Godiva, but start meeting, talking, mobilising. These pockets could come together to form a strong grassroots network through out the country, some maybe very strong, others might be slightly weak, we’ll work on that. 

This network would be the blood stream of the campaign, carrying support to a national centre point and feeding back information, posters and the tools to campaign back to the people. Posters alone would be easily distributed and not wasted, by this process.

These pockets can grow and evolve as the campaign goes on, because remember, this is about vote and voters, having nice shiny celebrities endorsing Equal Marriage is comforting and nice for their profile, but I, as a complete nobody in the gay community could influence at least 12 voters, maybe more and if every nobody did that?  

As in all cases, there are a lot of different organisations, helping the gay community, who could end up, subconsciously jostling for position, if each organisation sent one or two people to a core group, which would be the heart of the network. This heart would then co-ordinate the workings of the yes campaign, but it really is down to the people on the ground, many hands make light work and we have many supporters to help as well.

It is also important to keep in mind, the emotion, there will inevitably be a lot of hurtful things said, conveyed and implied by by every side, but it is important to show respect and to come out on top of all that, we need to convince the “don’t knows and the unsures” rather spend time, trying to change the minds of people who have firmly made up theirs, we can change some, but it is better to have a more positive outlook and policy.

Wouldn’t it be amazing, if all pockets started getting together, for the end of January, a county wide and provincial meeting held in February and a National Ard deis held in March and let the workings begin, if not sooner?

Now, I know people will have different ideas and will give out, slate my ideas, offer different opinions and I welcome that, but I’m convinced, if we leave it to celebrity X and y, we could easily, be exactly where we are next year and that is something I don't want!

To the General Public Of Ireland

General public of Ireland

I saw my savings go to naut, with the stroke of a pen

You did nothing!

I lost my job, my way of making money

You did nothing!

I saw my children hungry, nice clothes and shoes, but no food

You did nothing!

I pay, universal tax, property tax and now pending water charges

You do nothing!

I became depressed, couldn't function, lost in this misery

You did nothing!

I committed suicide 

You did nothing!

I saw people attack each other, blame the others

You did nothing!

Some concerts, of a money-making plastic Cowboy have been cancelled

You cry, scream and say this is cannot be, you fight for justice and want to overturn rules

What can I say?

Eurovision 2014

Growing up, in the 70’s and 80’s, the Eurovision held a special place in my heart, it was a major glittering escape into the world of glitz and glamour and a way to soak up the different cultures of Europe and beyond.

Dana won the competition the year I was born and the huge National pride and interest in the competition, seemed to creep into my psyche and bones from there on in.

From Dana’s win in 1970 until 2002, the selection process stayed the same, songwriters and singers would submit original songs.  A shortlist would be drawn up and a panel of judges picked from the music business would pick the best song for Eurovision.

This process delivered many success stories and winners, so much so, Ireland hosted the Eurovision 7 times and has best winning record ever, with an amazing record of winning the song contest three years in a row, 1992, 1993 and 1994.  With Johnny Logan winning it twice and writing Linda Martin’s winning song in 1992 

In  2002, the selection process changed, with a huge production, “You’re a star was more of a talent contest, on the lines of X factor or American idol, with presenters and judges, sharing the stage with the contestants.  The public were asked to vote and of course, people voted for the contestant in their area, or if they had a very sad or pitiful story.  This lead winners entries down a different route, representatives were being sent to Europe, more on personnel capacity for gaining votes and how judges liked them, rather than a winning performance.  But, there great songs and singers, some did well and others didn’t, it seemed that Ireland was losing it’s  midas touch. 

In 2006, a new format of picking entries, which tried to marry the two previous routes, A short list would be drawn up and complete with a panel of judges, the public would phone-vote the winners.  

All seemed wonderful, until it quickly became apparent, the powers that be, would pick a very strong and popular contestant and pit them against unknown amateurs. Unknown amateurs, doesn’t necessary mean untalented, it just means, they had much less a profile than the “favorite”.

It started, with a great Irish singer “Brian Kennedy” and when he didn’t win, there was a backlash and “Dustin the turkey” was sent, in what seems to be a definite insult to Eurovision.

2014, saw the same idea, where a singer with a strong popular public profile, was in competition with singers, who wouldn’t be that well known.  Every contestant had a mentor, to help put their act together and give best performance possible.  it was one of these mentors, who screamed the words, “the emperor has no clothes” just on the night of the competition, with fire work results!

As the competition progressed, the mentor, Billy McGuinness, wanted to air his views, that the competition was a foregone and everyone knew, how it would end and who would win! 

He also had a problem with Louis Walshe being on the panel, as mr Walshe was connected to the favourite.  It didn’t help matters, that Linda Martin was at Louis’s side.  Linda was a winning act in Eurovision and commands great respect throughout Europe.

But she also works for, with and alongside Louis.

During the evening, Linda Martin attacked Mr McGuinness live on air and made quite a spectacle of herself, audiences were divided; should the Eurovision hierarchy be left alone and as is, or was it right to call reality and enough is enough.

Brigit's Cross how and why?

The 1st of February is fast approaches, we look back to a great time of year, in the Celtic festival; Imbolg, This festival celebrates the sap raising in the plants and trees, the notion of is coming into peoples minds and the milk is starting to flow in the animals udders,
The cross represents the four Celtic Seasons; Samhain, Imbolg, Bealtine and Lughasagh, it's the beginning of the wheel moving.
Even though the weather is bad, there is a notion of Spring in the air and on the ground.
Growing in South West Kerry, there was always plenty of activity for this time of year.  Groups of people playing music, dressed and masked to horrendous promotions, would call around to the houses. Very much like the "wren, but these revelers would call at night.
The group were called "the Biddy and would carry a doll to represent the goddess herself.
People would also put out a small piece of white material, so, the goddess would touch it and imbue it with her growing power.
This Brat Braide was used for healing and Childbirth.
Let us celebrate and trust in the goddess to bring growth, spring and procperity to us all.

Sean O'Laoghaire

A Close up, to make sure you're on the right track, always remember, the Celts were a very forgiving people, it's what is in your heart that counts, not what's in their rule book!

I'm coming out!

Right, that's it, I've hidden in the shadows for far too long, there has been a secret inside me and I need to come clean.

Over the many lives I've lived people have seen me, as facilitator, puppet master, farmer, artist, author and whatever else you'd like to throw in.

But over the Past few months, I've been traveling up and down to the Park Studios, in Ranelagh, Dublin.

Where I've been Partaking in a "Working In Television" Course, It is really, really great, inspiring and just great fun, whatever happens, I'm glad I've done it!

The Scary Dollies Puppets are still on the go, just taking a little break.

http://www.youtube.com/user/ScaryDollies

Tullula O'Tullaig has also been quiet, but will be back on line as well,

http://sundaystimedollies.blogspot.ie/


And watch out for many, many, many more fun things to see, do and be shocked by....

Of coarse, any job offers ideas and sponsorship deals welcome!

Sean.