Chapter Four

Forge:
The Transforming Flame

Three jewels adorn my shield:

The red jewel of passion,

The black jewel of wisdom,

The white jewel of faith.

Within the forge blazes the roaring fire of purification. What no longer serves us is burned away, revealing what is shining and true. The forge is where we are tested by fire, soul-strengthened and challenged to become our most authentic selves. Here is found the spark of creativity, the flame that ignites passionate self-expression. In Brigid’s forge we are tempered, melted down, and melded together again, integrating the fragmented parts of ourselves into something that is whole and holy. Here, we are healed. Come, draw near the forge and be transformed.

Brigid the Creatrix

What does it mean to be divinely inspired in a creative process? It means that in the act of creation itself, the ego is set aside. You make yourself a conduit for whatever your beloved deity wants to bring forth upon the earth. The pen moves like lightning over the page, the paintbrush dances across the canvas, the voice lifts in song that comes from a place deep within the soul’s knowing. When you can bypass your inner critic and just let Brigid have her way with you, your creativity will flow forth in all its endless brilliance. Refining and revision have their time too. But begin with that initial openness. As with prayer, approach your creative projects with no expectation. You may have past experiences of creative success you can look back on, but they can’t be recreated. Indeed, if you try, you may lose the vital gift of the moment that is waiting to fall into your open hands.

All art and craft are blessed by Brigid three times: in the inspiration, during the creation, and at completion. This means that at any stage during your creative process, Brigid is with you—and she loves what you are doing. She’s the proud mommy who puts your work up on her cosmic refrigerator door. Your job is to love it too.

Now, this doesn’t mean that you won’t work hard or run into blocks or find yourself staring at a blank canvas, page, or screen. But at your core—in the fiery heart of the creative forge—your passion must burn red-hot. And that means you must find creative outlets that really fire you up. Everyone needs them, and you probably already have some. You may not think of, say, knitting as being a wildly passionate pursuit, but that excitement you feel as you start a new project, the delight in colors and textures, the ways you challenge yourself to excel—these are all symptoms of creative passion. Surrender to it, glory in it, seek it out! Brigid is with you as creatrix and craftswoman.

Blessed Are These Hands

Marvelle Thompson

Marvelle Thompson is the co-creator with Susan Kullmann of Blessed Are These Hands, a book of photographs of women’s hands, each woman holding something that represents her deepest values. She is thankful to live in a canyon that blesses her with its beauty every day.

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Numinous threshold—that is what Brigid is for me. She is the guide between the inner and outer, leading the way to my deepest self, the whole of me. When ideas and events begin to fall into place, I know Brigid is present. At those times, I need to listen deeply. That inspiration occurred many, many times in the process of birthing Blessed Are These Hands. Brigid is my sacred threshold, guiding me to creative transformation.

At autumn equinox 2001, I made a vow to honor women in a creative way. That seed lay dormant all winter as my musings took me in different directions. On Imbolc 2002, I asked Brigid for inspiration. A poem from one of my favorite books of poetry (Earth Poems) spoke to me that day. The author, Dian Neu, begins this untitled poem, “Blessed be the works of your hands …” Her writing inspired me to photograph women’s hands holding objects that they found sacred. It’s not a coincidence that one of Brigid’s aspects is poetry and it was a poem that inspired me.

In Blessed Are These Hands, themes are often repeated: ancestors, mothers (birth and earth), family, and love. Brigid can be seen working through women’s strength in nurturing and deepening connections to the people and things they care about. Their hands reach out to embrace life on many levels. They often become the keeper of memories, collecting realia freighted with meaning and capturing personal moments with photos, words, and other media. Angela Villalba, while describing the traditions of the Day of the Dead, writes, “I live bravely when I feel the warmth of those who came before me.”

Brigid is present when hands reach with passion to life and the miracle of creation: holding a newborn, planting a garden, and birthing art in many forms. Many of the women are indeed artists, but we see creativity shining through on every page from everyone. Olwyn states, “We hold within our hands the subtle magick of creativity. It is within every touch of love and comfort, in words written for inspiration and encouragement.”

Brigid comes to the forefront when women’s hands cradle objects of spiritual devotion: religious symbols and statues, holy books, prayer beads, and, quite powerfully, the very earth, fire, and water that sustain life. In the photo of Susun Weed, well-known author of many books on herbal medicine, it seems her hands are giving energy to and receiving energy from the ground they rest on.

Brigid’s voice is heard in the words of more than one hundred women in this project and in the rising voices of all women the world over.

For more about Marvelle, see the Contributors appendix.

Soul Windows: Icons for Brigid

An icon is more than just an image of a deity or saint. A true icon is a window into the sacred, an opening between the worlds. It does not depict the holy personage, it represents her. An icon will often seem to be looking directly into the viewer’s soul, opening a channel for wisdom and teachings to flow. Creating an icon for Brigid is an act of intimate communication with her from start to finish—and beyond.

Making an icon doesn’t require special artistic skill. In my women’s spirituality programs, one of the first things I encourage participants to do is make a collage. Quickly. Without over-thinking it. Setting a time limit and using minimal materials (I recommend thirty minutes, one magazine, and one glue stick) allows you to blast through any resistance that says you can’t make art. Sometimes you have to sneak up on your creativity! Once you are comfortable with collage, your confidence will grow.

The most important part of this work is (as always) not the product but the process. You will be spending quiet time assembling an image to honor Brigid, and in that quiet she will speak to you. As you work, keep in mind that you are opening a window between the worlds, between the sacred and the mundane, between the seen and unseen. Let Brigid guide your fingers.

Bless your workspace and ask Brigid to be with you as you create this icon in her honor. Take a moment to anticipate the creative enjoyment to come. And then begin.

Step One: Gather Your Images

Gather images that speak of Brigid to you. You’re going to make this icon with paper, not digitally. (Yes, Brigid loves her electronics too, but the tangible process is essential here.) Ask and listen for what Brigid wants in terms of symbology—it may surprise you. For example, in one Brigid icon I made, I didn’t feel like including any images of fire, even though I am a flamekeeper. My finished collage showed a red-haired woman wearing a bronze torc and a dress made from the stone spirals at Newgrange. She was accessorized with Irish soda bread, fronds of fennel, and fragments of ancient gold Celtic knotwork.

Step Two: Arrange and Rearrange

When you’ve gathered your images, start to arrange them on your base. I use 8 ½ by 11 cardstock, but if you intend to put your icon in a frame or a shrine (old cigar boxes are great for this), cut your base to fit that. Push your images around, layer them, trim them, remove one, put in another one, but do not—do not!—stop working at this point and go find more images. The world is so full of pictures, especially now when you can find anything and everything online, that you can easily shatter any creative rhythm by searching to find that elusive perfect whatever.

Step Three: Commit!

This is often a tense moment: committing to the placement of your images and gluing them down. Since you have to work from the bottom up in your layering, you might feel more comfortable if you snap a quick photo of your arrangement before you take it apart. (Don’t get distracted by whatever might be on your phone if you use it to take the photo. It can all wait. Really.) On the other hand, sometimes trying to exactly reassemble your design takes some of the fun out of it. Listen to your intuition. There’s no way to do this wrong. (That should be your mantra for all creative projects. Say it a few times right now.)

Step Four: Embellish

Decorate your icon with ribbon, shells, twigs, buttons, lace, jewels, glitter, sequins, beads, tinsel, or anything else that appeals to you. In Carmina Gadelica, Carmichael says: “Customs assume the complexion of their surroundings, as fishes, birds, and beasts assimilate the colours of their habitats. The seas of the ‘Garbh Chriocha,’ Rough Bounds in which the cult of Bride has longest lived, abound in beautiful iridescent shells, and the mountains in bright sparkling stones, and these are utilised to adorn the ikon of Bride.” 49 He is talking about the making of a Bridey doll, but it applies to your icon too. Embellishing it with natural objects from your surroundings draws Brigid even closer to you and your home.

When I made my first icon, I glued a piece of tulle to the cardstock, which had to be lifted to unveil the Goddess. That first icon was made at a workshop in which each woman had her picture taken and included it in her icon. (This was in the days before digital cameras, so someone had to run to the one-hour photo shop.) It is a powerful experience to include your own image with that of your Goddess, an affirmation that you too are sacred.

When your icon is complete, just sit with it for a while. Light a candle or two. Spontaneously speak whatever words of blessing come to you, or simply commune silently with Brigid. With your palms facing the icon, feel your energy radiating toward it. Know that this energy is in every part of this creation of your hands.

Spool and Spindle

Brigid was revered by the Celts as the goddess of all domestic arts. Some of those arts are things that we take for granted in the modern world. We think of needlework as a hobby, a pleasurable pastime, or a form of art. To our foremothers, it was a vital primary task. The sheep must be raised and tended, and their wool must be sheared, cleaned, and spun into thread. The threads must be woven into cloth, and the cloth sewn into garments. Every. Single. Time. Women’s prayers to Brigid must have invoked her skill and strength for endless domestic tasks. In the seventh century, Saint Eligius admonished Celtic women to stop invoking “Minerva” (as the Romans had called Brigid) when they engaged in spinning and weaving. What do you want to bet they didn’t stop?

I was at a crafts fair recently and admired some extraordinary felt hats at one booth. “Felting has really become like an artform,” I said to their creator, meaning it as a compliment, but as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I regretted them. “It IS art,” she replied, and she was right. Everything that we associate with art—imagination, skill, dedication—is part of craft too. The distinction between art and craft is fuzzy and getting fuzzier. The word craft in its highest sense means the thing that you do well, the thing you create that your soul finds satisfaction in.

The old rhyme “Man may work from sun to sun/But woman’s work is never done” is still true for many women. In our crazy-busy lives, it’s satisfying to have some work that does get done. Crafts give us the satisfaction of finishing something. That’s symbolic and empowering. This is a feminist issue. So-called women’s work has been demeaned for far too long. Woman-craft is essential for the well-being of the world. Women’s work is women’s magic.

Connecting Threads

Ruth Temple

Ruth Temple is an editor, beekeeping gardener, dancer, musician, spinner, weaver, and fiber artist in the sacred tribe of curious folks who do Stuff with sacred intent.

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I am a spinner and weaver, and sew and wear fine garments from my handwoven cloth, as well as making simpler garments and household goods of wool. The weaving came first; it’s something my artist mother was studying and teaching in the 1960s–70s as I was growing up. The spinning, having come later and along with teaching from folks who incorporate it in their daily sacred practice, has always had sacred connections for me.

I keep a personal Brigid-honoring practice; I am, alas, a little removed from the actual practice of sheep-raising. A nearby friend with a steep hillside keeps cashmere goats, and tells of her deepening connection with the seasons; February, around Brigid’s Day, is not only the start of lambing/kid season, it’s also the time in California when that valuable second coat, the cashmere down, comes loose and can be brushed or plucked from the goats.

I start each project with honoring intent, and ask a blessing for the person for whom I’m making it. Even when I set out to make yardage, there’s sacred intent in the planning and setup. I reach back to notice the source of my materials and give thanks for every step along the way.

I use a lot of different fibers, and come back to wool and wool blends for the texture, the feel of it in the spinning, and all the different fine details one can bring to the spinning practice by preparation and technique. Wool is aesthetically pleasing, flexible and forgiving to work with, and in a garment is warm and sheltering. It can hold up to thirty percent of its weight in water before feeling wet and will still keep a person working out in the elements warm. At the end of the day, though, it’s the sheer delight in beautiful, good materials where wool both draws and answers my pleasure.

Since the fiber arts, like many hand arts or home arts, have done a couple of generational skips in this past century, I find in my fifties that some of my favorite teachers and weaving buddies are in their eighties and nineties; it’s also exciting to see the next ones coming along in that whole younger not-much-arts-instruction-in-the-schools-yet-we-must-have-art DIY generation. Textile and fiber arts are part of a continuum, connecting threads across generations. Older textiles, gifts that have been handed down, and practical items made by other artists bless my home. There is a joy that comes with pulling something out to use, and mentally greeting the maker or giver, that deepens that connection across time or distance.

Weaving basics go back millennia, and spindle spinning as well; look back just a few generations or up into rural countries now, and everybody spun, about all the time, just to have clothes. Whether I’m weaving on a jack loom, a technological innovation from this past century, or turning a pack of tablet-weaving cards identical in structure and technique to those pulled from Egyptian tombs or found in northern Iron Age culture burial sites, or working with a rigid heddle loom whose global origins go very far back in the archaeological record, I have a sense of acting within a continuing history of makers using similar tools to make sacred and everyday items as I do.

Setting sacred space and intent when sitting to spin wool into a thread that will become something down the road gives a very tangible result to one’s efforts. That immediate feedback is powerful, and helps strengthen efforts in the perhaps less immediately tangible parts of one’s practice. Making, crafting, creating art, whether for ritual use or for use in what my love and I call the Sacred Quotidian—an everyday sort of use that reminds one to be mindful—is as necessary to me as breathing. It is nothing less than a sacred act to wear a pair of hand-knitted socks.

For more about Ruth, see the Contributors appendix.

Brigid the Jewelsmith

When you think of Brigid as goddess of smithcraft, your thoughts might go to swords and shields, or pots and pans, but her craft also encompasses jewelry. Wearing jewelry that has ritual or spiritual meaning is a practice that goes back as far as humans have been adorning themselves. Jewelry that is worn with devotion and reverence holds power that remains in the item over its lifetime, which may be hundreds or even thousands of years. The Celts were famous for the magnificence of their metal jewelry, and the most important of these was the torc.

A torc is a circular Celtic necklace made of twisted metal (the name comes from the Latin torqueo, “to twist”). The circle is left open, and the ends often have ornamental finials with symbolic shapes such as knotwork or animals, especially boars (torc is also the Irish word for boar). While I was doing research for this book, I came upon a photograph of first-century gold and silver torcs found buried in a pit, part of a larger archaeological find. Their power and energy were evident even in a photograph; they were far more than just pretty trinkets meant for mere decoration. The torc was a sign of sovereignty, indicating a person with strength and nobility of character. Both men and women wore torcs, and depictions of deities were shown wearing or holding a torc. Many have been found buried with other funeral tokens, or just buried on their own in what may have been ritual offerings. As goddess of metalcraft, Brigid would have been invoked in their making and wearing. Wearing or making one today ties you to that long lineage in a very tangible way.

Torcs are worn with the opening in the front, the finials resting on the collarbones at either side of the base of the throat. On a metaphysical level, this leaves the fifth (throat) chakra open. This chakra is the energy point in the body that governs communication, so symbolically one way to see the torc is as a supporting framework that strengthens the head, the seat of sovereignty, while allowing for eloquent communication and expression of your own voice.

Another symbolic aspect of the torc is that it’s not easy to put on or remove. The circlet must be slightly untwisted, fitted closely around the neck, and then twisted back into shape. It requires a certain commitment to wearing it for a while, which can be symbolic of moving with intention into a new field of challenge, committing to an undertaking or a project, or generally affirming your own strength and stability.

When you dedicate any piece of jewelry to combine its essential energy with your own, the act of putting that jewel on your body will instantly strengthen your connection to the sacred. It holds the light of your inner flame. Some people feel that such dedicated items should never be removed; if that feels right for you, then by all means leave them on. Others (like me) find it meaningful to wear different pieces for different purposes. Always treat your ritual and magical jewels with respect, putting them on with your full attention and putting them away with thanks. The most humble iron ring can hold as much power as the most elaborate gold torc.

The Magics of Metals

Metal is created by the application of heat or fire, imbuing the raw materials with the transformative energy of the forge, so a piece of metal jewelry has Brigid power even before you add stones or a design with symbolic meaning. (See page 103 for some stones associated with Brigid.) The various metals have their own qualities, just like stones do. Here are some of Brigid’s powerful metals.

Gold

The essential energy of gold is incorruptible purity, though most of the gold we interact with isn’t pure gold; it is blended with other metals for strength. This has a metaphorical significance too—purity must be combined with strength to endure the challenges and roughness of the world. Wearing gold affirms a pure intention and nobility of character that cannot be corrupted. It confirms your faith in the eternal goodness of creation.

Visualize a golden shield, forged by Brigid herself and intricately engraved with a circle of knotwork that has no beginning and no end. The shield glows with warm radiance and hovers just before you, at the center of your chest. The purity of the gold repels harshness and crude ugliness. With each beat of your heart, the radiance grows.

Silver

The essential energy of silver is intuitiveness. Silver’s soft luminosity is evocative of the moon, and it is considered a metal with feminine power. Unlike gold, silver will tarnish and requires care to keep it shining. This aspect serves a metaphorical purpose: when you attend to your emotions and intuition and respect their insights, they reward you with increased clarity and vision. Wearing silver enhances your psychic gifts and connects you to the sacred feminine.

Visualize a clear stream running from a wellspring among mossy rocks. This sacred site has been dedicated to Brigid for thousands of years. Beside the water’s source is a pure silver chalice, engraved with the triple spiral. Dip the chalice into the icy water and drink, feeling the purity of water and metal combine to cleanse your body and your soul.

Copper

The essential energy of copper is connectivity. Copper conducts energy and amplifies it when combined with your own intention and the qualities of any stones you include. Copper is a wonderful metal for healing purposes because it keeps the energy moving, working through stuck places both emotionally and physically. Use it for amulets dedicated to love, sexuality, and feminine power.

Visualize a wand made of strands of gleaming copper, twisted and entwined like Brigid’s flowing hair. Green stones at either end seem to radiate light from within their depths. Take up this wand, holding it at the center, and feel your own energy connect with the metal, flowing to both ends and shining healing light where your will directs it to go.

Iron

The essential energy of iron is protection. Wearing iron jewelry or carrying iron as an amulet creates an energetic barrier that repels negativity. There are many myths and folktales about the magical uses of iron, some contradictory, so (as always) use your own intuition to determine how the energies of iron work for you. In general, iron is best for everyday protection and less useful for vision-questing and otherworldly workings, as it is so intensely earthbound that it may be hard to get off the ground, as it were.

Visualize an open hearth, banked with glowing red embers and flickering with tiny flames. Suspended above the fire is an aged iron cauldron, containing a gently bubbling brew. Gaze into the pot and invoke Brigid’s blessing as you add ingredients for protection. Stir and envision iron’s protective energy infusing your potion. Sip and feel the strength of Brigid flow through you.

Platinum

The essential energy of platinum is timelessness. Platinum is the metal of eternity and universal wisdom that shines through the ages. When you wear platinum, you are pulled energetically to a higher plane of vibration. Lesser concerns fade away so you can see what is at the heart of things. It is an excellent metal to wear while doing shamanic and ancestral work. Platinum is also a powerful metal on which to make sacred vows that will transcend this lifetime.

Visualize a platinum torc that hangs in the air before you, silver-white and gleaming. It is perfectly round, and at the opening between the two ends, a tiny flame flickers on the air. Looking closer, you see that the torc is engraved with a flame design that reflects this timeless fire. The torc fits perfectly around your neck, and you become one with Brigid’s flame.

Bronze

The essential energy of bronze is healing. Bronze is an alloy of copper and tin, and so combines the qualities of both. Tin (a crystalline metal) clarifies your intention, and copper directs that intention where it needs to go. Bronze is a good metal to wear and carry as an amulet when you want to do long-term healing of either body or spirit, as its vibration is steady and enduring.

Visualize a door at the end of a hallway, and hanging on a peg at the back of the door is a deep green cloak, hand-woven of softest wool. You take the cloak from the peg and wrap it around you, feeling the comforting weight of it upon your shoulders. At the throat is a bronze penannular brooch, its ring and pin delicately carved with spirals. You thread the pin through the woolen fabric to close the cloak securely, and Brigid’s healing magic is sealed.

Steel

The essential energy of steel is courage. Steel is another alloy, combining the protection and groundedness of iron with the strengthening and stabilizing qualities of carbon. Steel breaks negative energy and thought-forms, dispels or contains fear so it can be dealt with properly, and invokes victory in righteous causes. When you wear or carry steel, Brigid fights on your side.

Visualize a glowing forge and before it, an anvil upon which a shining steel sword is laid. Brigid herself strikes the sword with her hammer, and sparks fly into the night air. Plunging the sword into the water beside her, Brigid cools and tempers the blade, then puts it into your outstretched hands. You feel the courage of all your foremothers running through you, and your fears fly away like those ephemeral sparks.

Fire’s Fierce Power

Wendy Alford

Wendy Alford is an award-winning blacksmith and a member of the Worshipful Company of Blacksmiths. She is the owner of St. Mary’s Forge in Norfolk, England, which lies upon the mystical Mary Ley Line.

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Looking back, I believe that Brighid has always been in my life, although I was not conscious of her presence by name or of the significance of her attributes until she showed herself to me through Gina McGarry’s book, Brighid’s Healing, which shone out from the catalogue pages of Cygnus (how typically and beautifully apt!) magazine about seven years ago. When I began reading the book, I experienced a shower of revelations, each one aligning me closer to Brighid. I was filled with wonder that all her amazing aspects linked somehow to the qualities I valued and was experiencing along my journey.

I feel I have been led by Brighid, from my love of nature as a child, my fascination with the spiritual and esoteric, being drawn into blacksmithing apparently quite by accident, learning about plant medicine and other forms of natural healing, to my enduring compulsion to write poetry. Brighid is a constant presence in my life, guiding, protecting, and inspiring. I offer up a prayer or incantation to her (which I found in Gina’s book and chant in Gaelic, hoping that Brighid has guided my pronunciation!) every time I light my fire. If for any reason I forget or am interrupted, I later notice that I feel incomplete or that things have not been going very well, and then I realize why. Brighid’s patronage and influence permeate the forge, her energy manifesting through my mind and body as I work.

The elemental aspect of fire is held in Brighid, with its associated properties of heat and light, comforting warmth and fierce power. There is this huge energy, which we as smiths try to harness to make useful and beautiful objects, transforming cold, inert iron or steel into miraculously malleable material, upon which we can apply our hands and tools to shape and create infinite forms. So the process of transformation is central, as our creations arise out of the fire like a phoenix.

But it is not only the fire—we smiths work with all four elements, which again holds us close to Brighid, as well as contributing to the historical association between shamanism and blacksmiths: fire in the hearth, air in the bellows or blower, water in the bosh, and earth in the coal and iron. Another prayer or incantation I use when lighting my fire is in medieval French, calling upon the spirits or gods of the underworld and the four elements—fire, air, water, and earth—to rise up and help me in my work. The symbolism and the physical reality are inextricably bound up together. The process of forging is spiritual and magical, yet at the same time material and very practical.

For more about Wendy, see the Contributors appendix.

Metalwork as Meditation

You don’t have to have a home forge to connect with Brigid as the goddess of metalcraft. Bead stores offer classes in simple metal techniques such as chain-making and wire-wrapping, and online video tutorials are widely available. Many women haven’t had much experience with metalwork, although this is changing with younger generations. I’ve found a warm sense of satisfaction when I use my jewelry-making tools. They are small and fit my hand well, yet are strong enough to easily cut through wire, twist and coil it, and punch through sheets of metal. I feel competent and confident—just how Brigid wants us all to feel!

Coirníní Paidir Bríd: Prayer Beads for Brigid

When I first became aware of Brigid, one of the things she inspired me to do was work with my hands, not just my head. As a writer and editor, I was always immersed in words—drowning in them might be more accurate—and I badly needed to get in balance with something that was word-free. I had made jewelry when I was younger—delicate web-spun necklaces of tiny seed beads—so I went to the bead shop thinking I’d do something along those lines. Brigid had other ideas, and she steered me over to the findings section to add some metal to my beadwork. (“Findings” are all the little bits and bobs used to put jewelry together.) The next thing I knew, I was making goddess rosaries.

I didn’t have any buttons to be pushed about the word rosary being applied to Pagan prayer beads, but in those early days it was a rather radical concept. “How can a rosary be for the Goddess?” was something I heard a lot. Now you see goddess rosaries everywhere! It was also unconventional in those early days to wear rosaries, and I intended mine to be worn as necklaces. The word rosary comes from the Latin rosarium, garland of roses. Mala, the name for Hindu or Buddhist prayer beads, also means garland. A garland of prayer beads is a portable sacred circle that encompasses you as you move through your world. Rosary is the word we know best in the Western world, so I will use that here.

Prayer beads are traditionally used to keep count of a cycle of prayers, mantras, or the recitation of your deity’s name(s). The rosaries you make for Brigid can have many purposes. Healing rosaries invoke her care during illness and provide a focus for affirmations of wellness to speed the healing. Rosaries for Brigid are also powerful at any transitional time. I was once privileged to make a rosary for a woman who was approaching her death and who found holding the beads as she communed with her goddess to be comforting; the rosary was buried with her. Rosaries can be made as memorials for a specific person or in honor of your ancestors. I once made a custom rosary using beads that had been part of a necklace belonging to the woman’s grandmother, and it was such a pleasure to work with the old crystal spheres with their patina of time and love.

But you don’t need to dedicate your rosary to any purpose other than accompanying you in prayer. You know how when someone is talking to you and reaches over to lightly touch your arm as she makes a point? It’s the same idea—using prayer beads adds a tactile element to your spiritual practice. The Celtic bards’ memorization of lore was helped along by the use of counting rhythms in their poetry and song. When you use prayer beads with a numeric pattern, touching each bead as you pray or chant grounds your thoughts and words in the earthly realm. The power of your faith remains within the beads, and over time you will feel that power grow.

So let’s make a Brigid rosary!

I Come into Thy Presence: A Brigid Rosary

The first step is choosing your beads. Beautiful rosaries can be made with natural stones, which add the qualities and energies of that stone ally. But don’t feel that you always need to use stones or crystals. I make most of my rosaries with glass beads. Along with the gorgeous range of colors to play with symbolically and aesthetically, the energy of glass is quite neutral and pure, so the magical or spiritual intention can be set by the wearer. Glass (especially red glass) was often used in ancient Celtic jewelry and ritual items such as decorative shields.

Glass is made with fire, which contributes to the purification process, and this fire aspect connects glass beads to Brigid. Czech glass beads called “fire-polished” have a sparkle that can’t be beat. Glass artisans make dichroic beads that fuse precious metal into the glass in glorious patterns. When glass is combined with metal, the connection with Brigid is powerful indeed, which is why I link my rosary beads with metal eyepins (thin wires with a loop, or “eye,” at one end). You don’t have to make yours this way—you can simply string the beads one after the other—but I find the metalworking to be more satisfying, in part because it’s slower and more meditative. It’s also repetitive—in a good way—conducive to trance and going within as you work.

If you have a specific prayer you want to use with your rosary, it will determine how many beads you’ll need. For example, with a triad prayer, you can use a repeated sequence of three beads separated by a larger bead. The mystical Celtic three-times-three is what I use as the base number for most of my goddess rosaries, which have multiple sets of nine beads. When I make Brigid rosaries specifically for flamekeepers, I use three sets of nineteen beads, for the number of priestesses who tended the perpetual flame at Kildare.

Our rosary will be an unbroken circle intended for use with this prayer:

I come into thy presence,

Goddess of the hearthfire,

I come into thy presence,

Goddess of the threshold.

I come into thy presence,

Brigid of brightness,

I come into thy presence,

Brigid of grace.

[Pattern begins again.]

I come into thy presence,

Goddess of healing,

I come into thy presence,

Goddess of light …

etc.

As you can see, there are two sets of four lines each: one set has alternating lines that start with “Goddess” and the other has lines that start with “Brigid.” The idea is that you can fall into a trancelike rhythm by improvising the end of these lines as you pray. Moving around the rosary reinforces the prayer’s pattern as your fingers note the shape and size of each bead.

You will need:

Round-nose jewelry pliers

Jewelry nippers/cutters

OR

Rosary pliers (which combine the two tools in one; this is what I use)

21-gauge eyepins (about 70, so you have some to mess up)

40 8mm beads (we’ll call these the “heart beads”)

5 beads in a different shape, size, or texture than your main beads
(the “breath beads”)

5 10mm or 12mm beads (the “liminal beads”)

Bless your workspace and ask Brigid to be with you as you create this rosary in her honor. Take a moment to anticipate the creative enjoyment to come. And then begin.

Figure 1

Figure 2

Figure 3

1. Prepare all your beads by putting each one on an eyepin and bending each pin 90 degrees, flush against the bead (figure 1a).

2. Clip the eyepin “tails” to about ¼ inch (figure 1b). Having all the beads prepared this way makes putting them together flow more easily.

3. Pick up your first heart bead and grasp the very end of the tail with the tip of your round-nose pliers. Roll the pin slowly around the tip, back toward the bead, making a loop. It should be about the same size as the premade eye on the other end of the pin. Leave the loop open a bit (figure 1c).

4. At this point, you can congratulate yourself for successfully learning a new skill! Or you can congratulate yourself for having patience and humor as you take it apart, insert a fresh eyepin, and try again. (I promise, it gets much easier.)

5. Pick up your second heart bead, and attach its eye to the open loop of the first bead (figure 1d). With the tip of your pliers, close the loop.

6. Repeat for heart beads 3 and 4. You should now have a strand of four linked beads.

7. Use the same process to add one of your breath beads here, then do another set of four heart beads. You now have a strand of nine beads.

8. Repeat these steps until you have five strands with nine beads each (figure 2).

9. Connect the five strands with the five liminal beads, which mark the transition from one strand to the next. Close the circle (figure 3).

You’re done! Isn’t it beautiful?

Now close your eyes and move from bead to bead with your fingers. For each heart bead, say a line of your prayer. At each breath bead, note that the pattern changes from “Goddess” to “Brigid.” At each liminal bead, note that the pattern begins again. Let the rosary take you from line to line, so that you can lose yourself in the emotion of deep connection with Brigid. Let the words pour forth from you in spontaneous devotion.

There’s no limit to the ways you can work with prayer beads. How about a rosary that invokes the three Celtic elements of earth, sea, and sky? Or the three realms of underworld, middle world, and otherworld? A rosary for safe travels or a rosary for inner journeying. A rosary for the triple aspects of Brigid: healer, poet, smith. A rosary for Brigid’s mother, the Mórrígan, perhaps made with beads from your own mother.

It’s good to support artisans who make their living through creativity (I’m one of them!), but do try making some jewelry yourself, especially when it has a spiritual intention. Remember that Brigid likes you to be hands-on, so the more ways as you can find to tangibly honor her, the better.

Brigid and the Power of Words

Language is a complex and powerful tool. It is a gift given to humans by the Goddess. Words preserve our history and our lore. They give expression to our joy and our grief. Words are our offering to the Divine, in thanks, in supplication, in worshipful delight. Words can be art, and words can be a weapon. We use words in magical workings, choosing carefully which arrangement of letters will best serve our intention. Brigid is the goddess of poetry, and in the metaphorical sense of the word, “poetry” is all written and spoken language. Let’s explore some of the ways Brigid blesses us through the power of words.

Triads

The power of three is vividly seen in the Celtic poetic triad, a short saying or verse that combines three elements to make a whole. It was used by the Celts as a learning tool, summarizing an idea in three parts for easy memorization. This was highly prized in a society that handed down its lore through the spoken word, and it is surely blessed by Brigid, goddess of eloquence and poetry.

I love these little prayers, invocations, and meditations on the spiritual life. Often the smallest things can be the most profound, because we can simultaneously examine them in detail and comprehend them as a whole. Just as gazing at a single flame can open you to your most profound knowing, reading just a few words can add to your store of wisdom.

Hundreds of triads have been collected over the past centuries—each one a tiny window peeking into the Celtic spirit. Some triads were about facts, such as history or geography:

The three dark places of Ireland: the cave of Knowth,

the cave of Slaney, the cave of Ferns.50

Others were meant to inspire:

Three profitable labors in the day: praying, working, reading.

Some hold deep mystery:

Three dead ones that are paid for with living things:

an apple-tree, a hazel-bush, a sacred grove.

Many are practical and domestic:

Three excellences of dress: elegance, comfort, lastingness.

Here’s one of my favorites:

Three woman-days: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.

If women go to men on those days,

the men will love them better than they the men,

and the women will survive the men.

In devotions, the power of three intensifies and affirms:

As it was,

as it is,

as it ever will be.

Reading, reciting, and writing triads adds a Celtic flavor to your spiritual practice. Prayer is often spontaneous—connecting to the Goddess from the depths of your spirit—but having a collection of prayers and invocations to draw from creates your own tradition. You may find yourself creating triads in the moment, as Brigid inspires you with her gift of eloquence. Let’s create some together, as practice. To begin, complete these simple triads:

Three tokens of a blessed site:

Three candles that illumine every darkness:

Three signs of wisdom:

Next, try your hand at creating a longer triad. Complete this blessing with a last line:

Threefold blessings of the cat:

Lithe speed be thine,

Calm grace be thine …

Here’s another one; finish each line as you are inspired to do:

Stir the cauldron of life three times:

Once for … ,

Twice for … ,

Thrice for … .

Now invoke Brigid with a triad of praise:

Brigid of the … ,

Brigid of the … ,

Brigid of the … ,

I bid you welcome.

One last triad for you to complete:

As plentiful as the … ,

As bountiful as the … ,

As beautiful as the … ,

So are the blessings of Brigid.

Brigit be n-éces: Brigid the Woman-Poet

Erynn Rowan Laurie

Erynn Rowan Laurie is a poet, professional madwoman, student of
filidecht, and devotee of Brigid. She talks to spirits, and sometimes they talk back. This isn’t as mad as it sounds.

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My central devotional practices for Brigid are twofold. First is the ritual of flamekeeping, which honors her and brings her visibly to mind as the spark in the well of wisdom. My second devotional practice connected to my creative work is reading and research. As Brigid is a scholar, so I study as well. It is my joyful duty to learn and to understand the kinds of things that a traditional fili (poet) would have known. Myths and history, ogam and poetry, symbolism and ritual, law and folklore and language are all a part of this body of knowledge.

I have too often heard it said that practitioners of reconstructionist paths “don’t have spirituality,” only books, but I think the people who say this don’t understand that the study itself is a devotional act, and that books are ritual tools for us. Without our study, we would have very little upon which to base our personal spiritual work as contextualized in a particular culture. If you’re not doing research work, you can never know the joy of discovering that an inspired insight you’re using in ritual has historical precedent.

If I respect and honor Brigid, then I must also respect and honor what she does, and one of the things she does, one of the things she is, is the work of the scholar. If I wish to devote myself to her and become more like her, I must cultivate that scholarly aspect of myself and develop the talents of discernment and synthesis. One of the goals of devotional work is to become more like what one has devoted oneself to and to bring those qualities into one’s life. If I am to live authentically as a devotee of Brigit be n-éces—Brigid the woman-poet—then I must devote myself to learning and to the poetic arts, and I must cultivate the pursuit of wisdom.

An early Irish law text says that all things are connected by a thread of poetry. Poetry is about how we live in the world, about who we are as human beings. Do we strive for truth and beauty and compassion? Do we work on ourselves to become better human beings, and to leave the world a better and more just place for our having existed? We must become poems, become words of power, become moments of beauty in the world. Even our roughest and most painful experiences, our sharpest edges, our night terrors, can be used to bring forth something profound and poetic if we are willing to do the work. This takes looking at ourselves with honesty and knowing that we will never be perfect, and understanding that we can still at least attempt to act with grace when we have a choice.

For those who wish to practice poetry as an art as well as a metaphor for life, tapping into those experiences, the things that generate the most powerful emotions, is a place to begin. Learning to put those things into words that are both strong and artful takes time and a great deal of work, but it is rewarding, and there is deep and powerful transformational magic in the process.

Sitting down and putting words on paper, or on a screen, is a fundamental part of the process. If someone is serious about poetry and practicing the art of poetry, it’s very useful to try composing different kinds of poems, whether they have specific types of rhyme and meter or they are attempting to achieve a particular artistic or emotional effect. Over the years I’ve read and worked with dozens of books on writing and poetry, playing with exercises and trying new things. I’ve studied with other poets. I’ve also read hundreds of volumes of other people’s poetry, both translated from other languages and by poets writing in English. I’ve done some reading and translation of poems from other languages myself. We need the examples of both good and bad poetry in order to understand what works when we’re dealing with the rhythms and sounds of language. Every good poet I’ve ever read has been a wide reader of poetry. It takes exposure to art to refine our own art.

In a spiritual sense, I think it’s necessary to find something to devote ourselves to and to immerse ourselves in it. If there is no particular passion in your life, look to Brigid for a spark of inspiration, look to the land around you, reach into history and myth and see what presents itself. Carry a notebook and scribble down thoughts and images and overheard scraps of conversation. Record dreams. Read everything. Look at works of art. Listen to music. Walk with your eyes and your heart open, and observe the vast world around you. Look deeply into your own heart and explore the things that you love, and the things that ache and tremble with your pain. Breathe slow and deep.

Now write.

For more about Erynn, see the Contributors appendix.

Pen vs. Computer

One of the things people tout about writing with a computer is that typing on a keyboard can move “at the speed of thought.” There is certainly a time and place for that, and I would never give up my keyboard for most of the writing I do. But there is something to be said for writing at the speed of thoughtful thought. Slowing to a measured musing, letting your pen set the pace, there is time for silence—a pause to allow for consideration of what remains to be written. Lifting the pen from the paper and gazing out the window or into the candle flame feels natural. The page doesn’t demand your return as does the glowing screen, the blinking cursor. And there is no interruption—the paper will not flash an incoming message at you, and the pen won’t “helpfully” suggest a different word. Much of this book was written on a computer, but when I felt fuzzy or overloaded with information, I knew it was time to turn off the machine and uncap the fountain pen. When you are writing in your journal or any of the other spiritual and intentional writing that Brigid inspires you to do, take a moment and ask her what medium she would like you to use. Brigid is the bright arrow, swift and brilliant as words typed onscreen. And she is also the glowing embers that draw you closer and slow you into quietude, and the words that come forth from that banked fire of wisdom within.

Oaths and Vows

There is a saying that a person is only as good as her or his word. This goes beyond the casually spoken word, or even a promise that must be kept or an intention that must be followed through. A Word in the highest sense encompasses integrity, honesty, dependability, and ethical virtue. To have a Word means holding certain things to be inviolable. Living by your Word doesn’t mean being perfect—we all fall down and we all mess up, and that’s part of growing wiser. But holding true to what you know is right—for you—is always part of a sincere spiritual path.

In the Celtic tradition, the taking of oaths is a sacred act. I mentioned earlier the personal nature of such oaths as the Celts acclaimed their vows to the deities they knew intimately, the protectors of their tribe: “I swear by the gods my people swear by.” Brigid is invoked as a protector of oaths in an invocation to Brigit Búadach (Victorious Brigit): “… righteous person, perjury’s peril …” 51 To take an oath of some action under the name of Brigid is to know that she will oversee its completion and hold the oath-taker accountable for all deeds done in her name—or deeds left undone. It’s both promise and prayer.

In modern times, the occasions for formal oath-taking are fairly rare. For most people, the vows they take when they marry may be the only solemn oaths made, and even then, the solemnity is sometimes short-changed, as weddings have shifted from sacred ceremonies to expensive parties. You may be asked to give your word in more mundane circumstances, such as swearing to tell the truth in court, signing nondisclosure agreements at work, or even something as trivial as agreeing to a website’s conditions of use. Every time you put your name to something, you are using the power of words to affirm your Word. And your Word is under the auspices of Brigid, goddess of wordsmithing, goddess of truth-telling.

I see oaths and vows as two different things. An oath is a single statement of intention, support, or commitment, something that could even be done spontaneously in the need of the moment. You may not use the words “I swear by …,” but the intensity of your oath is in whatever words you use, and your whole soul is behind the speaking of them. When you tell a friend in crisis that you will be there for her, no matter what, that is an oath and Brigid is your witness.

I think of vows as a collection of oaths made in a more formal setting and with a considerable amount of thought beforehand. Marriage vows are the ones we know best, of course. Writing your own vows offers an opportunity to really think about what you’re swearing to (and whom you are swearing by), but traditional vows hold great power too. It’s all in the degree to which you dive deep within your soul and breathe truth into each and every word you speak. “’Til death us do part” is intense stuff.

Religious vows are made to your deity as to your beloved and sometimes to your spiritual community. There may come a time when you feel you want to take vows as a priestess of Brigid or as a flamekeeper. This is a serious, sacred act. Vows are for life. They are a specific expression of some part of your Word. Yes, marriage vows are broken all the time, and it’s easy to think of any vows as just good intentions—a promise to do the best you can, and hey, if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Vows to your goddess are beyond even vows to your spouse. When you make a vow to Brigid (or any aspect of the Goddess), you are offering your life to her. You are expressing your deepest love and trust. There is no divorce from this. These vows are lived every day in your heart and soul, and death will not part you from them.

The marriage analogy is apt when it comes to religious vows. When I took my priestess vows and offered myself in service to Brigid, I didn’t know what that meant other than she had proposed and I had accepted. We can never know what the future holds in terms of challenges to our vows. We take those vows so that whatever happens, we will hold true to our Word. I vowed to honor the gifts that Brigid has given me, to listen for how she wants me to use those gifts, to be of service to others, to hold true to my inner guidance, to not lose my faith. Your vows will be uniquely your own. My only advice about their content is to recognize that because vows are for life, you should be able to grow with them, and never outgrow them. To use a rather silly example, don’t vow to drink milk every day as a libation to Brigid, as your aging body may object to this at some point. More seriously, a vow to serve your goddess as a writer may change over the years if she decides that she’d like you be a painter for a while—or a healer, or a mother, or a trainer of guide dogs, or Brigid only knows what. My wise priestess sister Bryn included in her vows “a willingness to whatever.”

Oath-breaking and the breaking of vows have dire consequences. In ancient times, oath-breakers were exiled and rejected by their tribe—or worse, put to death. We have legal and financial repercussions now, but that’s not what I’m talking about when I use the word dire. Breaking your Word is damaging to your spirit. It is a soul-wound that is not easily healed. As women, we are often far harder on ourselves than any other person would ever be to us, and as spiritual women, there is a danger of falling into a deep pit of unworthiness if we break oaths or vows made to the Goddess. She will always understand and forgive, because she takes you at your Word—moment by moment, year by year, lifetime by lifetime. But from a mortal perspective, breaking spiritual vows causes a real crisis of faith and leads to a dark night of the soul. I’ve seen this in women who come to doubt that they can continue to call themselves a priestess, and it’s not the loss of the title that tears at them, it’s the feeling of having failed. Unlike a marriage between two people, there is no one else to blame.

In truth, there is no blame. If you have a clear and innocent heart, if you do the best you can, if you are kind and generous, if you use the gifts Brigid gave you, if you are grateful, if you are true to your Word, then you will never be forsworn.

Three things that are impossible:
That hope should be lost,
That life should be meaningless,
That faith should be in vain.

Oíbel Ecnai: Spark of Wisdom

Domi O’Brien

Domi O’Brien served as Preceptor in the MotherGrove of Ár nDraíocht Féin: A Druid Fellowship; since 1996 she has been with Grove of the Golden Leaves of Druidic Association of North America. She teaches beginner and intermediate Irish for Conradh na Gaeilge Shasana Nua.

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I use Irish (and sometimes Scottish Gaelic) in my own ritual work and incorporate bits of it into group ritual. I use some of the hymns, charms, and incantations from Carmina Gadelica regularly in ritual, in both their Scottish Gaelic originals and in translation. Some of them I edit to take out obviously Christian references. The litanies and lineage of Brighidh given in the volumes are full of wonderful imagery. At Imbolg, we always use a version of that in our ritual, with each person who wishes to pulling out three strands of hair by the roots and feeding them into a flame while putting themselves anew under the protection of Brighidh. And if a new initiate has not been clearly claimed by a different High One, he or she is placed under Her guardianship and guidance.

I am somewhat saddened by the apparent inability of some of my younger students to memorize and recite even what seem to me to be fairly simple things, like the nine elements of the body and their correspondences in the universe. Technology means they can look anything up; they are not used to simply retaining information in their own memory. That has profound effects. I tell the same tales from the tradition at the same times of year, and only a few seem to recognize them and get new insights into their meaning as they come around again. 

This is an Old Irish traditional prayer:

Brigit Búadach,	Victorious Brigit,
Búaid na fine,	Glory of kindred
Siur Ríg nime,	Heaven-King’s sister,
Nár in duine,	Noble person
Eslind luige,	Perilous oath,*
Lethan breo.	Far-flung flame
Ro-siacht noí:bnem,	She has reached holy heaven,
Mumme Goídel,	Gaeldom’s foster mother,
Riar na n-oíged,	Support of strangers
Oíbel ecnai,	Spark of wisdom,
Ingen Dubthaig,	Daughter of Dubthach,
Duine úallach,	High-minded lady,
Brigit búadach,	Victorious Brigit,
Bethad béo.	The living one of life.

*Swearing by Brighidh is very dangerous for perjurers.

For more about Domi, see the Contributors appendix.

Preserving Your History

We know that Brigid is a goddess of poetry, but the word poetry in the Celtic tradition isn’t limited to what we now think of as poetry—a lyrical expression of thought or emotion. It also encompasses history, biography, and all the preservation of the culture’s lore. In a society that depended upon oral tradition, it was crucial to have bards and fili who specialized in handing down this lore from generation to generation. Poetry was an efficient way to preserve it, as poetry was usually sung, and it’s always easier to remember a song than the simple spoken word. But it wasn’t just the professionals who held the tales and passed them on. Stories of humor, travels, mystical encounters with the fae, and ancestral adventures have always been told at the hearthside, spun out like wool to warm the winter nights. Personal histories weave the fabric of a society as much as heroic epics.

At first glance, it might seem that we are in a position to preserve our personal histories in detail that would have astonished our foremothers. Many people always have a camera with them and record every activity. Social media speeds these images—and our every random thought—to the wider circle of friends and family. But paradoxically, because we have this instant connection, we often don’t bother to tell the longer tales or preserve them in a more lasting way. The goal has become to make communication ever more brief and fleeting, sometimes disappearing as soon as it is read.

The reality is that our histories are just as ephemeral as the tribal Celts’ oral tradition and in similar danger of being lost. At some point, if stories are not written down, they are forgotten. Not every story, perhaps—the larger adventures, the funniest anecdotes, and the most tragic experiences may be remembered. But it is the more intimate and heartfelt moments that make up a lifetime, and these are often lost, forgotten, or just overlooked.

This is particularly true for women. Most written history over the centuries has been about men, because it was written by men. The memories and tales of women need to be recorded as part of the history of our civilization. The poet Muriel Rukeyser wrote, “What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open.” 52 More women are telling their truths on the public stage, but on a personal level, a spiritual level, many truths still need to be told. You are the bard of your own epic poem. Your history is part of the world’s history.

In the past, letters and diaries preserved personal history for future generations. I recently bought an old five-year diary at a junk sale and was so moved by the brief entries there, most of which were quite ordinary. The writer wasn’t recording her musings and dreams, as we might in a journal—her diary was just a daily record of her activities, sometimes with commentary and sometimes not. It was fascinating to see her life day by day, from the vantage point of fifty-plus years later. What was trivial in the moment became a window into another time. Your own stories will be the same for others, whether in the form of letters, a diary, or a memoir.

To begin, try a simple exercise in remembrance. Take a single sheet of paper and a pen that is comfortable in your hand. Light a candle and ask Brigid to illuminate a single memory in your mind. Then start to write. Don’t edit or censor yourself or worry about grammar. Brigid is guiding your hand. Write until the page is full, turning it over if you wish to continue, but don’t use more than this one page for now. When you have finished, sit quietly with the candle and thank Brigid for blessing your words. You may want to read over what you wrote or you may prefer to tuck it away for future reading. Write the date on the paper and store it safely.

Listen for inner guidance on how to proceed from here. One idea is to continue just as you began—taking each memory as it comes, on a single sheet of paper, and putting them all away in a box—or you may be inspired to do something more structured. Here are some thought-starters:

• Write everything you remember about your earliest memory. It may be just a flash of a color or sensation, or it may be rich with detail. Don’t be hard on yourself for not remembering more or going back further. If your earliest clear memory is at age nine, that’s just fine. More may come in time.

• Write a school memory. Take the first one that comes to mind, good or bad. Then write two more to make a school tales trilogy.

• Write about your childhood best friend, then your closest friend as a young adult, then your closest friend now. If this is the same person, write about how you have both changed.

• Write about a female cousin, a grandmother, or an aunt. Keep in mind that it’s the simple details that keep her memory alive: the cousin whose bedroom was completely purple, the tiny stitches your grandmother put in her quilts, or the aunt who made hand-churned ice cream redolent with vanilla on a sultry summer day.

• Tell the tale of your first love. Then tell the tale of your worst enemy.

• Write about a national or world event from your perspective. As I’m writing this, it is the fiftieth anniversary of the death of President Kennedy, and everywhere people are sharing where they were at the time. Such memories don’t always have to be about sad events. Record your joys as well as your sorrows.

• Write down your family’s folklore. You may have to glean these stories from relatives and piece together the big picture. Or they may remain as fragments, which taken together make an embroidered crazy quilt of memory.

• Write about your spiritual awakening.

Brigid will inspire you onward as you preserve your own history and the history of your foremothers. You may find yourself remembering things that at first glance seem trivial, but follow that thread back and see where it leads. The labyrinthine paths of memory will become illuminated as you walk them. Future generations will be moved by your remembrances, whether it is of a special meal or the important events of the age. It doesn’t matter if you have children to bequeath your history to. It will be kept by someone, and heard, and passed on to become part of the body of collective lore.

Brigid the Healer

Healer is one of the three main roles of the goddess Brigid as recorded in antiquity: healer, poet, smith. Saint Brigid was renowned for her healing powers and miracles and for her compassion for the sick and injured. People still seek (and receive) healing at Brigid’s holy wells and springs, where her waters have flowed for millennia. But you don’t have to travel to Kildare—Brigid the healer is ever-present.

Always listen carefully to your inner guidance when it comes to matters of healing, for Brigid’s voice will be heard in the quiet moments. (She often speaks to me of health matters when I wake in the middle of the night.) Remember, Brigid is very practical, so her healing help may come in the form of a sudden craving for citrus fruit if you need more vitamin C. She may guide you toward a particular path of wellness, such as changing your diet, adding nutritional supplements, starting a new practice of movement, and so on. You may also come to understand more clearly the causes of ill health—practical things on the physical plane, or something in your soul’s journey that required a challenge, or a combination of several causes.

We often think that prayers for healing are answered by the ailment simply going away, and indeed, that happens all the time. Belief in the power of prayer and the blessings of Brigid truly can work miracles both great and small. But sometimes Brigid’s help comes not through direct healing of your body, but through guiding you toward the right healers and medical practitioners. This happened to me a few years ago. I had been experiencing some health issues and knew intuitively what the core cause was. I was used to handling such things myself, without outside assistance, but I felt a strong push this time to seek out a doctor. Money was an issue, as a self-employed person with no medical insurance. Trusting that Brigid would guide me, I did a simple web search for “low-cost health care in Portland.” The very first website that came up was called Salvia Medica (“sage medicine”), and there was a beautiful photograph of a healing bundle of sage. It was a holistic practice, affordable and caring, with a woman MD who was oriented toward the spirit as well as the body, and it was absolutely what I needed. Once I put myself in Brigid’s hands, she wasted no time in taking me to the exact right place for healing help.

Affirming wellness is a vital part of becoming well and staying well. It can be challenging, because all around us are people who are only too happy to affirm ill health. The Celts had many prayers against “the evil eye,” which was considered a cause of illness and bad luck. My feeling is that the evil eye is still active, though perhaps not intentionally! For example, the media has thoroughly convinced us there is such a thing as “flu season” and that we are going to get sick, no matter what. Our friends, family, and coworkers—with all the best intentions—will warn us that whatever ailment we have is likely to last for weeks, because that is what happened to them.

Brigid as healer offers help in so many ways, but she needs you to cooperate in your own healing—not just through good physical practices, but by changing your attitude about your own healthiness. The prayer “Brigid, restore me to health” assumes that health is your natural state. Hold the vision that your natural state of wellness is vital, strong, clear, and radiant. Be careful what language you use when speaking of your health. There is a saying: “Your body believes every word you say.” When you say, “I’m getting a cold,” your body will cooperate, because that’s what you’re asking for! (In the interest of full disclosure, I’m working on not saying, “I have a bad knee.”) Instead, try this:

1. Center yourself and ask Brigid to bless you with her healing hands. Clearly envision those hands placed warmly and firmly on your body, and the power of the Goddess flowing throughout your being.

2. While you are in that state of conscious visualizing, say aloud, “The cold has left my system.” (Use other words that state whatever the ailment is, but be sure to say it in the present tense as if it has already happened.) Visualize Brigid empowering these words and thoughts.

3. Listen for her guidance as to what you should do next. It might be what you would expect, such as wrapping up in a warm blanket, taking a nap, or making a cup of herbal tea. But be ready for surprises too—Brigid may suggest you put on some music, or go outside and breathe the fresh air, or call a friend and have a good long talk. All aspects of your wellness are under her care, and they are all connected.

The Healing Waters of the World

Rebecca Reeder

Rebecca Reeder is a shamanic therapist trained
at the California Institute of Integral Studies.

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On the west coast of County Clare, near the town of Liscannor, there is a holy well dedicated to Brigid where her presence is especially palpable. Within the well-house is a small corridor leading up to the waters where offerings from locals as well as pilgrims from all over have been left. The space is adorned with images of the holy mother, Brigid’s crosses, relics of saints, and handwritten prayers for the healing of beloveds or well wishes for those departed.

When I approached the waters and touched them to my face, an immediate gush of tears washed over and through me to my soul. The presence of love and grace filled me completely, healing my spirit with the strength and courage of faith. As I looked around at the prayers and offerings of so many others who were guided here seeking something of the holy, I was again doubled over with emotion as I felt connected to all those who have come before and those who will come after in an unbroken lineage to find comfort here.

Through a series of dreams, visions, and waking experiences, I’ve come to see wells and waters as inseparable from healing and spirituality as well as social and environmental justice. This was also the case for my Celtic ancestors, for it is said that all the rivers of Ireland—almost all of which are named after goddesses—have their source in an Otherworld well of wisdom. Within Celtic lore surrounding the mysticism of water are the consequences for the people and the land when the waters, which are all sacred, are desecrated.

The first Waters of the World ceremony I engaged in was many years ago at an Earth Activist Training led by Starhawk. Participants were invited to bring water from whatever source they felt connected to and during the ritual to place a few drops of the water into a bowl. When all the waters came together, a prayer for the healing of the water was shared and some of it was returned to the earth. I learned that this ceremony began at a Brigid ritual and continued from then on as people brought waters together from all over the earth, from holy wells, sacred rivers, oceans, streams, creeks, and lakes. I was very inspired by this ritual and began to carry around my own vessel of the waters of the world. I would pray for the healing of the waters and make offerings whenever I went to a new body of water.

When most people think of modern medicine or healing practices, they are not usually thinking about the powerful healing to be found at holy wells or in Brigid’s presence. In fact, practices that touch the mysterious or mystical have often come to be viewed as superstitious nonsense with no power at all, or as the work of some evil being, powerful perhaps but demonic nonetheless. And yet, there is something within our folk memory—an older, deeper connection that understands and yearns for ancestral ways that are lost or forgotten, whether that be by choice or by force. Like water running underground, the memories of our ancestors are stored in our bodies and in the unconscious, for these ways will seek to bubble up and be reckoned with whether we consciously intend it or not. I think this is part of the resurgence we see now of Celtic spirituality, of the Brigidine tradition, and of timeless healing wisdom.

For me, Brigid’s influence in the world today is connected to the power of her resilience, as well as that of those devoted to her who have kept her memory and teachings alive. She is a bridge builder between people of different lands and different faiths, for she has persisted in the hearts of people for centuries. Many people are longing to return to the wisdom inherent in their ancestral roots, and so many are seeking her. And her traditions are needed perhaps more now than ever, as a protector of people and the land and an inspiration to those who are committed to living her values of generosity, peace, and justice. Encoded in the many stories about her and in the ways we may come into our own unique relationship with her are teachings we need to embody, share, and pass on to the generations to come. In this way, Brigid is a guide for the healing of our planet.

For more about Rebecca, see the Contributors appendix.

Bathing in Brigid’s Well

This ritual bath invokes the spirit of Brigid’s healing wells in the comfort of your own bathtub. (If you’re not a bath person, you can adapt it as a hand-bathing or anointing ritual.) There are two steps of preparation for your first bath, and after that you’ll have supplies on hand for more baths.

The Water

The first step is to make some lustral water. The word lustral comes from roots meaning to purify and brighten. Lustral water is perfect for Brigid-blessed baths because it’s made by combining fire and water with ceremonial intention. Some ways to do this include:

• Burning floating candles

• Burning camphor in water (see page 143)

• Standing a taper or pillar candle in a vessel of water and letting it burn down until it is naturally extinguished

• Manually extinguishing candles in water

Whichever technique you use, give it your full attention and intention. You are changing the essence of the water from mundane to magical. Invoke Brigid’s fire to imbue the water with her blessing. If you like, add crystals for additional energy—clear quartz is always a good choice, but use your intuition. Save your lustral water in sealed jars to add to baths.

The Potion

The next step is to make some bath bag potions. You will need:

• 3 cups dry oatmeal (any kind, but Irish is a nice touch)

• 1 cup dried or powdered Irish moss53

• 1 cup dried hawthorn leaves

• 10 cotton muslin bath bags

I kept this bath mixture simple, but you can add other herbs and flowers if you wish. Oatmeal is wonderful for the skin and generally soothing to the emotions. It brings Brigid’s blessing of nourishment to both body and soul. Irish moss isn’t really a moss, it’s a seaweed (Chondrus crispus). It’s also called carrageen, from the Irish carraigín, “little rock,” perhaps for the tidepool rocks where it is found. Seaweed was a valued resource for the ancient Celts (and into modern times) as food and to fertilize crops. It was traditional to harvest seaweeds at Imbolc, the time of the highest tides of the year. Energetically, it brings the ever-renewing life force of living waters. Hawthorn is a faery plant associated with Brigid’s sacred wells and often grows near them. When you bathe in hawthorn-infused waters, the immortal beauty of the fae is yours.

With your hands, mix the oats, Irish moss, and hawthorn in a large bowl. Take your time with this. Sift the mixture through your fingers, interact with it, let your intention radiate from your hands as you repeat this triad:

Threefold the healing of Brigid:

Health of the body, restoring;

Health of the mind, refreshing;

Health of the spirit, renewing.

When you feel complete with this part of the preparation, divide the mixture among the bags and tie them shut, knotting the drawstrings three times. Trim off the excess string. Store the bags in a dry, cool place until you’re ready to use them.

The Bath

Having made your lustral water and your bags, run a very warm bath and light some candles nearby so their light ripples on the water. Pour some lustral water into the bath and drop in one of your potion bags. Get in the bathtub and rest in the quiet warmth. Squeeze the bag to release its virtues into the water and gently caress your skin with the bag itself—the potion is silky and will make your skin wonderfully soft. When you feel relaxed and open to receive all the gifts of your healing bath, bless yourself with the following charm. With each “wavelet,” cup water in your hands and pour it over your head and body. Visualize Brigid’s loving hands performing this blessing.

A wavelet for thy form,

A wavelet for thy voice,

A wavelet for thy health,

A wavelet for thy luck,

A wavelet for thy good,

A wavelet for thy vision,

A wavelet for thy strength,

A wavelet for thy pluck,

A wavelet for thy faith:

Nine waves for thy grace.54

Stay in the bath as long as it feels good, then dry yourself off and go straight to bed to complete the healing with a good long sleep.

Brigid’s Soul Forge

What is Brigid working on at her forge? You. Taking the raw materials that make up the essence of your being, she forms your soul. Soul-shaping requires effort. Metal doesn’t just go into the forge and come out all shiny and ready for use.

Brigid and Excellence

I’ve always felt that excellence is a quality Brigid holds in very high esteem. By “excellence,” I don’t mean perfection and I don’t mean superiority. Excellence isn’t about comparing yourself to anyone else. Excellence is the personal best you are capable of, while always aspiring to do better.

In one of Madeleine L’Engle’s memoirs, she writes about the way her college classmates categorized writers and other artists. They were either “majah,” “minah,” or “mediocah.” Somewhere else, I read a funny line from an artist showing his work: “Remember, I’d rather stay mediocre than accept criticism.” Mediocrity is comfortable; it’s an easy place to stay in for a long time. It’s perhaps especially easy for women, because for so many centuries we were told we couldn’t really do anything well—that we were, in terms of the world’s achievements, “minah.” It can seem unsisterly to offer helpful criticism or self-defeating to question your own efforts.

When we are being nice—to ourselves or to others—we say, “You did the best you could.” Looking at it in one way, that’s always true. For whatever reason, we weren’t able to do better than that. Sometimes this is logistical—circumstances get in the way. Sometimes we’re just flattened by grief, anger, depression, exhaustion. But let’s be honest—sometimes we just don’t aspire to excellence. An internal monologue might go something like:

I know I’m not doing the best I could do with the rituals I’ve been creating for circle. No one else has said anything, though, and I think they all feel fine with the work we’re doing, so … okay! I’m being too hard on myself. If they’re happy, I’m happy. I’m probably being overly critical. What I’m doing is good enough.

(In other words, “I’d rather stay mediocre than accept criticism.”)

Remember the old report card comment “Needs improvement”? Ask Brigid to help you shine a light into the murky places of your soul and show you where there is room for improvement. A compassionate way of approaching this might go something like this internal monologue:

I know that I am not doing the best I could do with the rituals I’ve been creating for circle. No one has said anything, and I think they are all fine with the work we’re doing, but I know I could do better. I know there is inspiration and creativity within me that is not being tapped. I also acknowledge my own exhaustion and lack of time to bring my full energy to this. But because I aspire to excellence, I will look at how I can restructure my priorities to make this happen. I do this for me, and for love of Brigid, who blesses me with the knowledge that I have more to give to the world.

When you maintain compassion for yourself—and even more important sometimes, your sense of humor—it’s an act of self-love to push yourself to really do well at whatever it is that you offer to Brigid. You are using the gifts she gave you to the very best of your ability.

The Druid organization Ár nDraíocht Féin has as its motto “Why not excellence?” Their unofficial motto tells how this excellence is achieved: “As fast as a speeding oak!” The pursuit of excellence is ongoing, day by day, with steady and patient growth. It doesn’t mean working yourself to death, and it never means beating yourself up. For myself, I feel lately that Brigid has been trying to give me a “time-out.” Bit by bit, she has been guiding me to a quieter and more intuitive place in my spirit, her Sacred Sheepdog nipping at my heels to get me heading in the right direction. Brigid called in Cerridwen to help with these changes, and I have a feeling a third sister-goddess will join them along the way. It is challenging to both be gentle with myself and pursue excellence, to honor my lifelong vow of service to Brigid that I believe in with all my heart. There is rest and replenishment of the body and spirit, and then there is just slacking off.

Brigid offers a metaphor for this balance of acceptance and aspiration in her process of tempering a blade. The blade is put through fire, hammered and shaped, then cooled in water. It is the repeated process of stressing and blessing—pushing to the next level of refinement—that creates an excellent blade, strong and flexible, able to withstand resistance. If you just have water—the nice, safe, accepting place where whatever you’re doing is just fine—you’re as much out of balance as if you were always in a hot forge, always molten, raw, unfulfilled.

Aspiring to excellence has its dangers. It’s all too easy to stay in a state of constant self-criticism where you think nothing you do is good enough. Part of pursuing excellence is welcoming the idea that you still have things to learn, still have room to grow and deepen. With some practice, this puts the inner critic in her proper place, as an honest and friendly helper. Challenge yourself to push through self-imposed barriers of mediocrity. See yourself as that blade in Brigid’s forge, made stronger by challenges, blessed by compassion. Ask her to show you where you really shine—and where you could use a little polishing.

Sword and Shield

You and I are not ancient Celts. You may not even be a modern Celt by blood or inherited culture. But Brigid is a goddess of the Celts, and her symbology reflects the attributes and values of that people. When we say in prayer, “Brigid is my sword and my shield,” we are speaking metaphorically, but it was not always so. The Celts were warriors. It does no good to sugarcoat it, and indeed, it’s not respectful to those fierce people to revision them otherwise. According to the Greek writer Strabo around the turn of the first millennia, the Celts were “ready to face danger even if they have nothing on their side but their own strength and courage.” As the sword and shield were of vital importance, surely this is where Brigid as goddess of metalcraft was often invoked. Asking her blessing on these implements ensured victory.

Celtic shields were made for use in battle, but also for display and ritual. They were human-sized, decorated with magical and symbolic patterns, often with creatures such as birds and boars. There were light wooden shields for battle use, and magnificent metal shields for ceremony and ritual. Both individual and mass conflicts were considered a test of personal valor, and there was no false modesty about proclaiming one’s skills and bravery. Before the combat commenced, high praise of each combatant would be shouted out to the accompaniment of drums. This battle chant had religious significance, calling upon the deities to witness their victory. All enemies of the Celts wrote about the noise they made in battle, raising power with howls and the blasting of ritual war trumpets. These horns were sculpted in the form of animal heads, as if summoning the wild spirit of the beast to strike terror in the heart of the enemy and inspire the Celtic warriors to glory.

Our lives are challenging, too, and we face troubling times and fearful situations. The fierce Celtic qualities we can retain and honor in ourselves are courage, determination, and commitment to a cause of action. What does it mean to have Brigid as a sword or shield?

Brigid’s sword is the sword of righteous justice. As goddess and as saint, she is invoked for victory against the enemies of her causes, which always have the well-being of her people at heart. To hold Brigid’s sword in your hand—or to invoke her presence, sword drawn—is a declaration to the universe that you have right on your side.

Brigid’s shield is invoked more than her sword, naturally enough. Her protection is sought in every realm of life, on a daily basis, whereas swords should only be drawn in times of great need. Prayer after prayer call upon the shielding power of Brigid. Brigid’s shield prevents undesirable energy from getting to you. The shield absorbs the blow; it is a psychic barrier against which harm falls away harmlessly. I don’t believe in being defensive as such—what you defend against often grows stronger just because of the energy you put into fearing it. But invoking Brigid’s shield as a regular part of your devotions places you in that state of protection all the time. The sword is for crisis; the shield is for every day.

I am under the shielding

Of good Brigid each day;

I am under the shielding

Of good Brigid each night.

On sea and on land,

On the track and on the hill,

Alone or in company.55

The Celtic prayer known as a lorica (after the breastplate of armor) is a shield forged of words of power—which makes it truly a shield of Brigid. The best known of these is “The Deer’s Cry,” attributed to Saint Patrick, part of which is:

I arise today

Through the strength of heaven,

Light of sun,

Radiance of moon,

Splendor of fire,

Speed of lightning,

Swiftness of wind,

Depth of sea,

Stability of earth,

Firmness of rock.

Alas, Patrick went on (allegedly) to ask for protection against “incantations of false prophets, black laws of pagandom, false laws of heretics, craft of idolatry, spells of women and smiths and wizards.” Ah, well. Before he went off on that little tirade, he offered this verse, which I have adapted as a lorica for Brigid devotees:

I arise today

With Brigid’s strength to uphold me,

Brigid’s wisdom to guide me,

Brigid’s eye to look before me,

Brigid’s ear to hear me,

Brigid’s word to speak for me,

Brigid’s hand to guard me,

Brigid’s way to lie before me,

Brigid’s cloak to protect me,

Brigid’s well to heal me.

Notice that there are nine invoking lines in both of these loricas. Remember that in Celtic spirituality, three is the number of ultimate empowerment. Forging a protective shield by the power of three-times-three intensifies its strength beyond any breaking.

Try your hand at creating your own lorica to use in your daily devotions or when you feel a special need for the shield of Brigid. Add to its potency by making a visual interpretation of it, such as a collage, to place on your altar.

Brigid’s Ink: Celtic Tattoos

As with so much of Celtic lore, there is disagreement as to whether the ancient Celts practiced tattooing as we know it today. There are descriptions of people who painted their bodies with blue woad dye, which would have been temporary, perhaps for battle use only. Other contemporary accounts tell of “engraved” designs on the body, and coins show markings on faces that appear to be tattoos. The “painted people”—the Picts of the north and the Cruithne of Ireland—were said to have tattoos in the “forms of beasts, birds, and fishes” 56 and to go naked in order to show off their body art. Modern Celtic tattoos draw from this ancestral affinity.

Why include tattooing in a book about Brigid? Experiences such as tattooing, if undertaken in the right spirit, can be a rite of transformation. People who have tattoos are often asked by the un-inked, “Did it hurt?” The answer depends on the person asked, but the question itself is interesting. When a new mother proudly shows off her infant, no one ever asks her if it hurt to give birth. The end product is what matters, and yet, the rite of passage the new mother has gone through has changed her forever. So it is with a spiritual tattoo.

Moving through a physical challenge is a transforming experience, a forge experience. Unlike pain from accident or illness, getting a tattoo is voluntary. You are making a commitment to seeing it through, no matter what, and you are making a commitment to the symbol you are adding to your body. From now until your death, that symbol will be part of you.

A tattoo in honor of Brigid can invoke her protection and shielding, declare yourself as her devotee, or be a secret affirmation of your faith known only to you (and whoever sees you without clothes). I have several tattoos, including three specifically for Brigid: oak leaves and a triskele badge on one shoulder, oak leaves and mistletoe on the other, and a triskele on the inside of my wrist that is part of a Celtic spiral wristband. (The other wrist has spirals and a raven.) My shoulder tattoos were to seal my dedication to Brigid as her priestess. The wristbands were a commitment to live that dedication openly in the world, for the rest of my life.

If you choose to get a sacred tattoo, remember that intention is everything. Take your time to find just the right art and just the right tattoo artist. Prepare yourself ceremonially before you go and after you return. During the process itself, let your artist know that you want to be quiet and go inward, not chat. Visualize yourself at Brigid’s forge, where you are made and remade. Open yourself to her blessing as the Goddess marks you for her own.

Externalizing the Internal

Pat Fish

Pat Fish is a tattoo artist who specializes
in bringing Celtic art to life in skin.

___

I grew up an orphan raised by people with whom I had no genetic similarity, and I yearned to have heritage. When I was thirty, I decided to switch occupations and learn tattooing, and simultaneously paid a private eye to locate my birth parents. It turns out I am a Pict, of Clan Campbell from Scotland, and so I took the timing of that discovery as a sign that I ought to dedicate my tattoo career to bringing the intricate knotwork of the ancient Irish illuminated manuscripts and the patterns from the Pictish standing stones to life in skin. Most people take their ethnic heritage for granted—only someone who has lived without that connection can understand how much it meant to me to suddenly have it. Add to that the fact that the Picts were historically known for being heavily tattooed, and it felt meant to be.

I feel very strongly that everyone has atavistic ties to their bloodline, whatever it is, and for me I experience a lovely serenity when working with the knotwork. It is quite compelling to me, holds my attention like no other form of art, and the challenge is one I very much enjoy. It is unlikely that the tattoos the ancient Picts and Celts did were anywhere near as intricate as what I can accomplish now, but there is every reason to think that there would have been skilled artisans doing tattoos just as there were metalsmiths and stone carvers doing extremely complex work that survives to this day. It is those surviving pieces that I take as my inspiration as I design original tattoo designs for my clients.

I approach each tattoo as an opportunity to enhance that person’s life, and I try not to be judgmental of their motivations or inspirations. But if I feel that the image or placement is likely to have a negative impact on their life, I feel it is my duty to refuse to do it. That’s the responsibility you take on when doing a permanent alteration to someone’s appearance. I need to be proud of what I do and to strive to do my best. If I light incense and play soothing music, it is for my own pleasure in my work environment, not to manifest sacred space for the client. Tattoo artists are like shamans for many people, because we are the agents of change. It is the client’s responsibility to take this transformation with appropriate gravitas. Or not.

Women seem to live in constant fear of judgment about their bodies, and so the act of claiming their own skin as a canvas is a powerful one. For some, a symbol of their faith can give them the opportunity to witness to others about their beliefs. In all cases tattoos give people an externalization of their inner aesthetics. And being willing to express that in a form that can be seen and judged by others is a strengthening thing, causing the person to be willing to stand up for those enthusiasms.

For more about Pat, see the Contributors appendix.

Immrama

There is a world within each of us that is beyond the mundane world in which we walk every day. Whether we call it imagination or visualizations or daydreaming or journeying, it is an endlessly revealing realm of wisdom and wonder. In Celtic spirituality, explorations of this inner realm are sometimes called immrama. An immram is a voyage, a setting-forth upon the sea toward the unknown. In Celtic lore, tales of the great immrama tell of enchanted islands, each symbolic of a challenge that deepens the soul, whether the challenge is successfully met or not. The undertaking is always more important than the outcome. The same is true when you set forth on a visualized immram. Releasing expectations and the need to achieve something allows for pure and powerful messages to come through.

You can create your own immram by simply setting the scene and being in a receptive state of mind and spirit, and I provide a beginning for that here. Following that description, you can continue on your own or use the complete immram visualization I offer. Either way, what will happen on your voyage is between you and Brigid. Be ready for surprises.

Preparing for Your Immram

For any deep visualization, you need uninterrupted time and a quiet space. Only you know how much time such an inward journey will take, but my suggestion is to allow at least an hour for your first such journey. Some immrama take many hours. Dress yourself comfortably, or if you choose to not wear anything, be sure you are warm enough. Remember that you will be lying or sitting still for a while, so anticipate that you will cool down some. Cold feet can be especially distracting.

A silent space is best for inner journeying, or you might put on a quiet recording of ocean sounds. I don’t recommend using music, even meditation music, for this purpose, as music influences the emotions and you want to be open and receptive to whatever comes.

Sit or lie down in a comfortable position. Lying down is more likely to lead to falling asleep, of course, and I for one would always fall asleep instantly. Have the room as dark as possible. If necessary, tie a soft scarf over your eyes to further block out any light. And so begin …

Setting Sail

Brigid of the green sea,

Brigid of the swift wind,

Brigid of the bright star,

Guide my vessel.

You are seated in a small wooden boat, large enough for one person. The boat is on a misty shore, just touching the edge of the sea, with small wavelets lapping at the bow. A mast rises at the center of the boat, with a furled sail wrapped at the top of the crossbar. There are no oars, no rudder or tiller, no way to steer. Take a moment to orient yourself in the boat. Run your hands along the smooth wood of the sides, and feel the firmness of the floorboards under your feet. Notice if there is anything else with you in the boat, anything you are taking with you.

Now give attention to your surroundings. Note the mood of the ocean, the sky, the weather. These will vary from immram to immram. Take a deep breath of the sea air. Feel the wind upon your face.

A wave comes in now, not an ordinary wave, but one sent from the depths of the ocean’s magic to lift your boat and set it afloat beyond the turnings of the tides.

Once you are on the open sea, you unloose the ropes that tie your sail and it unfurls. Note the color of the sail and if there are any symbols on it. You make the sail secure, and the wind fills it. Your boat turns outward on its journeying …

___

From this point, you can create your own immram,
or you can continue with the one that follows.

___

After a time of sailing, your boat approaches a small island made entirely of grey stone. The shoreline seems unapproachable, piled high with boulders wet with sea spray and draped with seaweed. Your boat bumps gently against these boulders, and your eyes wander over the stone. There seems no way to land or enter this island, but with patience you can now make out a footfall, a place of damp sand just big enough to stand on. Tying your boat to a bronze ring set into one of the stones, you disembark and stand upon the land. Again, you observe with patience and full attention and see a narrow path that winds around and through and upward among the boulders.

Following this path up the gentle incline, you emerge at the top of the island, a wide expanse of bare stone, worn smooth over thousands of years of wind and water. Notice how the emptiness of the place affects you. Observe your thoughts, your emotions, your perceptions. You turn in place, to each of the directions in turn: west, north, east, south, and back to west, the direction from whence you came. There, where before there was only emptiness, you see a domed structure made of the same grey stone, open on one side but sheltered from the wind. You walk toward this structure.

As you draw near, you see that within this shelter is a great blazing forge. The stones glow red, and the dancing flames illuminate the enclosure. A black iron anvil, decorated with spirals and other mystical symbols, sits at the center of the shelter. There is something on the anvil, a gift for you. Pick it up, examine it, take your time with it. Give thanks in the way that feels right to you. When you are ready, return to your boat with the gift.

As soon as you are seated in your boat, the wind picks up your sail again and turns the little vessel away from the stone island and out to sea. You sail for a time, watching the horizon, observing the weather, the wind, any creatures of sea or sky. You see now that you are approaching a second island. Stairs are cut into the rock face, stairs that come right down into the sea and continue underwater, as they continue upward and curve around a white cliff face. You tie your boat to a silver ring set into a stair and disembark, standing on the white stone of the staircase, water swirling around your ankles. You gaze downward, seeing the stairs disappear in the deep clear water below, and then turn your gaze upward and begin to climb.

The stairs wind around and around the small island, not an arduous climb, but one that requires care and attention as you place your feet on the stone steps. The stairs end at an opening to a cave, high above the waves and your tethered boat. Light reflecting off water touches the walls of the cave, and you see they are made of mother-of-pearl, luminous with delicate colors. As you stand at the center of the cave, you become aware of a musical resonance within its walls, an echo of the sea combined with an enchanting otherworldly vibration. You feel this sound permeate your being. Notice how it makes you feel, what emotions you experience. You lift your hands in a gesture of receiving, and a gift is placed in your open hands. Give thanks in the way that feels right to you. When you are ready, return to your boat with the gift.

Place the second gift beside the first in your boat and observe as before as the wind lifts your sail and takes you out to the open sea. Notice any changes in the ocean, the weather, your mood, your awareness. In time, your boat approaches a third island, this one covered with a dense forest. Your boat comes to rest on a little beach and you disembark. This time the way seems clear, a path leading directly into the forest. But after going only a little way, the path forks, and you must choose a direction. A little distance longer, and it forks again. You move through the wood, choosing at each turning. Notice how you feel, what it feels like to choose, whether fearsome or exhilarating or something else entirely.

In time, you come to a clearing, and you can see that many paths have led to this place, from all directions, each ending at the same sacred grove. The tall trees move in the wind, sighing and singing with the voices of oak and rowan and willow. At the center of the grove is an ancient stone well. You look into its depths and see what you are meant to see. There is a bucket on a rope, and you lower it into the well and pull forth a gift. Give thanks in the way that feels right to you. When you are ready, return to your boat with the gift.

Now, with the three gifts beside you in the little boat, you feel the wind lift the sail one last time and guide your vessel toward the place from which you departed. But now you see three women awaiting you, cloaked and hooded, a stone altar table before them. Your boat is borne to shore by the tide and you move to stand before the altar. Place your three gifts there. The three women come forward and each touches a gift, and with the touch, it transforms into living flame, burning without apparent source or fuel upon the stone. The flames merge into one, and it seems that the three women also merge into one, and then she too becomes part of the flame. Gaze into its depths. Feel it warming your being, becoming part of you. Receive any message or knowledge that is meant for you. Take your time.

When you are ready, return to your waking awareness, giving thanks for the journey and its gifts. Stay quiet and absorb the experience, and then finish grounding yourself by eating something light and drinking a glass of cool water.

Fire in the Head

The ancient Celts recognized divine madness, “fire in the head,” as the creative genius of poets and seers. Today we aren’t taught how to manage this mind-fire when it overtakes us, as it may well do when you ask Brigid to enflame your soul. Too many ideas, too many thoughts, too much input, too many roles to play—in the forge of transformation, this is the stage at which you are molten. Very few of us have the luxury of running off to the woods to be a mad hermit. Here are a couple of things to try when the fire in your head is making steam come out of your ears.

Ravens and Swans Together

Tactile meditations using stones are grounding when you are feeling confused or overloaded and on sleepless nights when your mind won’t stop yammering. This calming meditation draws on imagery from two poems by W. B. Yeats, an Irish poet whose works are filled with the mystical Celtic spirit.

You will need:

3 candles

12 (or more) white stones

12 (or more) black stones

1. Sit at a table in a darkened, quiet room.

2. Light the three candles, invoking earth, sea, and sky.

3. Set the white stones to one side, and gather the black stones in front of you on the table. Hold your hands over them and feel the energetic connection flowing between you and the stones. Think about your worries, your confusion, your fears—all the mental cacophony that is disturbing you. Now begin to move the black stones around on the table while repeating these lines:

There, through the broken branches, go

The ravens of unresting thought …57

4. The black stones are the ravens, and they are trying to get their messages through to you, but something in you is disturbing them so that they can’t rest and speak their truth. Visualize this and keep reciting the lines as you stir and swirl and mix the black stones with your hands. Let yourself fall into a trance if it happens.

5. When you feel ready, lift your hands from the black stones and hold them over the white stones. Again, feel the energetic connection flowing between you. The white stones are the swans. They bring strength and quiet calm so you can hear the ravens’ messages. The raven and the swan are not in opposition—they work together as Brigid’s allies. One by one, bring the white stones in among the black stones while repeating these lines:

They drift upon the still water, mysterious, beautiful …58

6. Keep reciting the lines as you move the stones around in any way that pleases you. You may want to swirl a line of swan stones through the raven stones, or make an arrangement of ravens above, swans below. Perhaps they form a circle, alternating black and white, or half black and half white, like night and day. Don’t over-think it; let your hands move instinctively while your mind receives the insights and wisdom that have been trying to come through.

7. At some point, you will feel complete with this meditation. Take several deep breaths and give thanks to Brigid and her allies. Extinguish your candles or let them burn out on their own. Cleanse the stones and store them respectfully until you need them again.

Crios Bríde: The Girdle of Brigid

Symbolic ropes called crios Bríde, “Brigid’s girdle,” are traditionally woven of straw and used in Imbolc ceremonies as a sort of gateway through which people and animals are passed and blessed. Like many folk customs, the origins of the crios Bríde are long forgotten, but one tale tells of how Saint Brigid gave her belt to a woman in need of income, saying that if she dipped the belt in water, that water could heal any ill (and hence, the woman could earn her living as a miraculous healer). Being encircled by Brigid’s girdle, not just at Imbolc but every day, is a tangible affirmation of her healing power—and of your own participation in that healing. You can make a crios Bríde for any purpose. This one is for spiritual fragmentation.

Maybe you’ve been working too hard. Maybe you are being pulled in many directions because of the roles you serve—mother, partner, worker, artist, friend. For me, it was a matter of having so many different plates to keep spinning in the air that I couldn’t find the time or strength to really sense what was going on with me. It wasn’t until I started weaving the pieces together again that I realized how frayed and fragmented my spirit had become. The ritual act of creating a single braided strand from three separate strands symbolizes being made whole by the healing blessings of Brigid.

You will need:

Three lengths of satin cord (sometimes called rattail), at least twice as long as your waist measurement. Choose three colors to symbolize the integration of your being—cool colors for peace, fiery colors for strength, a blend of both, etc. Cord can be found at fabric and craft stores, and www.satincord.com has a wide selection of beautiful cords in many colors.

Before you begin, bless your workspace in the way you prefer and make sure you won’t be disturbed as you work. Light a candle to invoke Brigid’s presence. You may want to put on some deepening Celtic instrumental music.

1. Gather the three strands in your hands and set your clear intention that this will be a ritual object, imbued with the power of Brigid’s healing:

The girdle of Brigid is my girdle,

The girdle of three strands.

Brigid who is three in one,

Guide this work of my hands.59

2. Knot the three strands together about 8 inches from the end. As you begin braiding, you’ll need a way to keep the braid from slipping away from you. I like to use a clipboard to hold the ends for the first few inches, and then when the braid is long enough, switch to tying it to the back of a chair or a doorknob.

3. Without rushing, begin the simple and repetitive rhythm of braiding the strands. Each time you cross one strand over the other and tighten the woven strands, envision the parts of your spirit that have become scattered coming back together in a stronger pattern of empowerment.

4. As you work, you may want to say a line of a triad with each movement. See page 172 for some suggestions on creating your own triad for this purpose.

5. When the braid is long enough to tie comfortably around your waist, you are done. Tie a knot at the end as you did at the beginning, and trim the dangling ends. You can add beads to these ends if you wish, but if you’re going to wear the crios Bríde under your clothes on a regular basis, skip the beads.

Wear your crios Bríde for at least one moon cycle to keep your intention strong and keep Brigid’s blessings close. (You don’t need to leave it on 24/7.) After that, Brigid will tell you when to wear it.

Brigid the Midwife

One of Brigid’s most important aspects is that of midwife. She supports and protects birthing mothers—both human and animal—and blesses the new life that is welcomed into the world. But her midwife role isn’t just about literal birth. The final stage of labor, called transition, is the most intense. The laboring woman may feel like it’s all too much and want to stop, forgetting how far she’s come already. Just as the earthly midwife reassures and encourages, Brigid eases our way through all significant life passages. Sometimes a long period of work or struggle can seem in vain. A project or goal can take more effort or time than you imagined, and you want to just give up. Put yourself in Brigid’s hands and ask her to guide you through this stage of transition. Attune yourself to her messages and trust them when they appear. She’ll tell you when it’s time to push—you may feel a renewed sense of determination and urgency, a stronger commitment to your dreams, or a firm resolution to get out of a bad situation. Remember to breathe. You are birthing yourself, and Brigid the midwife is right there beside you.

Brigid at the Threshold of Death

“He cried out from his bed that he saw Brigit of the Gael, and that it was she herself was bringing him to his death.” 60

Brigid as midwife stands at the threshold of death as well as the threshold of life. Of all our transitions, this is the most profound, whether we are one who is dying or the one who is left behind. Until very recently, death happened in the home and the dying one was attended by people who had seen death many times before and who accepted it as natural. It’s a much more complicated process now, and it can be difficult to connect to the deeper mystery and the beauty of life’s end under modern circumstances. There is a profession now called death-midwife: healers and priestesses and others who support the dying and their loved ones. This is the kind of help Brigid gives. There is a time to heal the body and a time to help the soul release its connection with the earthly form, and Brigid is there for both.

The Celts believed in a glorious afterlife. Their vision of the eternal joys varied, but their surety of faith never wavered. To reach the shining land, the dying one must cross the “black river of the abyss,” the between-place that is neither this world nor the next. As in birth, the death transition can be a time of fear, frustration, despair. When my mother was dying (at home, thank Goddess), the house full of people experienced just about every emotion you could name as she traversed that between-place for a day and a night. Brigid the death-midwife offered me reassurance that all was going well and all would be well in the end.

Her Hands on Mine

Susan Smith

Susan is a nurse, a Reiki master, and a Celtic shamanic practitioner guided in her work by Brigid.

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I use Reiki for my hospice patients, both as they are declining and during their death. Brigid is always present, with her hands on mine and on the patient. I see their breathing ease and feel their energy change—they seem less fearful. It is a very holy experience for Brigid to be present during their crossing over. I frequently see her flame while I’m working.

During the death process, a person may experience several stages that can affect them physically, emotionally, or mentally that can result in suffering. Hospice offers relief from that suffering by helping to control various crises that may develop. For example, a person may be admitted to an inpatient hospice unit for dramatically increased intractable pain, and during their stay their dose of pain medication can be carefully titrated to higher doses than would be allowed for healthy patients in order to control that pain. Then depending on their condition, they may be able to spend more conscious time with their loved ones. In another type of crisis, a person may become very agitated and irrational, and do things they would normally never do, like pulling out medication lines or trying to walk home in the middle of the night.

I have been present for many of these crises. It can be so easy to reach for a higher dose of medication in these cases, but in working with Brigid I’ve been guided to change my energy to match theirs—by squatting to a lower level than they are, by mirroring their chakra level or energy, and then asking questions about something I know they love, like their children, or something they are proud of. When they are absorbed in speaking about something they love, then with my energy matching their own, Brigid helps me to change my energy and theirs follows. This helps the patient to trust and helps keep them safe, and many times these difficult situations can be handled without medication, allowing the person to maintain their dignity.

Healing work in hospice is obviously not a physical healing of a dying person, but a spiritual and emotional healing that happens as a person comes to terms with their death and during the transition across the death threshold, which is considered an in-between time in many spiritual traditions. A person is open during the death experience and great change is possible. When Brigid is present in the room, her presence eases the dying person and helps to sustain me (the work is not easy) and also the friends and family of the patient. The energy in the room changes when she is there. It is very difficult to describe, but overwhelming compassion and tenderness, enfolding of a beautiful soul in her arms during the crossing, helping one to bear it all, comes close. Whether the experience leads to enlightenment, the Otherworld, heaven, or another life is not important. What matters is the reintegration of soul parts, the easing of emotional distress, and the end of suffering in this life.

My devotions make my work sacred, and my work makes my devotions sacred, if that makes sense. The two go hand in hand. My healing work is a devotion to Brigid.

For more about Susan, see the Contributors appendix.

Sitting with the Sorrow

There is no right way or wrong way to react to death. Grief comes as it comes. I grieved in a much sharper and immediate way for the loss of my cat than for either of my parents, for whom I felt a softer sense of mourning. Don’t judge yourself for not feeling as bad as people expect you to feel, and on the other hand, don’t feel that you need to “move on” on anyone else’s timetable. Whatever you believe or intuit about the afterlife, here in the world you inhabit with your earthly body the dear one is gone, and the space that was theirs echoes in its emptiness. We grieve for ourselves, and for others who are left behind, and for what might have been. This is as it should be. Good grief is part of Brigid’s healing, and she will share it with you. You will pick up the pieces and push onward, but it must come in its proper time.

In the Celtic tradition, time is made for sitting with the sorrow and giving grief its due. The Celts’ faith in the soul’s fulfillment doesn’t mean they didn’t grieve for the human life. Celtic lore and poetry are full of laments that ache with sorrow and strive to capture emotions that are beyond words.

Too sad is the grief in my heart! down my cheeks run salt streams. I have lost my Ellen of the hue of fair weather, my bright-braided merry daughter . … Orphaned is her father, with a crushing wound in his pierced and broken heart.61

In our modern world, we take a more restrained approach to eulogizing the dead—and I do mean restrained, held back, like a torrent of emotion slamming against a dam of propriety. Writing a heartfelt lament as an expression of your grief can release some of these waters.

You may not consider yourself a writer, but if you will pick up the pen, Brigid will guide your hand. I’ve found that this kind of soul-writing is best done at night, when the world is sleeping and the mysteries of the Otherworld seem especially close. Sit at a table in a darkened room, with one candle illuminating your writing space. Have paper and pen ready; don’t use your journal for this, though you may want to copy your words into it later.

The circle of candlelight is your sacred space. Before you begin to write, press the palms of your hands over your eyes. In that deeper darkness, pull your emotions to the surface, in all their myriad colors. Feel Brigid’s presence, close and warm. When you’re ready, start writing. Here are some thought-starter phrases from Celtic elegies: 62

I am bitterly sad, for I have lost too much …

Great longing, cruel longing is breaking my heart …

The night is dark and a heavy grief comes over me …

I am lonely, I am cold, I am bent with sorrow…

Write from the deepest place of your longing heart, with no censorship or worry about language. Use as many sheets of paper as it takes. Write until you are exhausted or weeping—or exalted, or at peace. In other words, don’t anticipate or strive to achieve anything. Just let it all come. Brigid is with you, she from whom poetry flows and eloquence emerges. She is there to midwife your passage through the dark tunnel of grief. She won’t let you fall into the void of despair.

When you feel complete—for now—stack your papers and roll them into a scroll. Tie them with a ribbon, knotting it three times. Put the scroll away in a private place. You may be tempted to destroy it, but please don’t. When the pain is less sharp, as Brigid’s healing soothes your heart, you may want to read those words again.

Another expression of deep heartache and loss is the ancient Celtic practice of keening (caoin, cry). It is a full-throated wailing, long and achingly sad, sometimes with words and sometimes just an intonation of mournful sounds. Keening is said to have originated with Brigid, who let forth with her grieving cry upon finding the body of her son on the battlefield. Ever afterward, the bean-sidhe63 keened over the dead to set them on their path out of this world.

Expressing yourself in this way may seem too raw, especially when compared to the way our modern culture prefers us to deal with pain—pushing it down, snapping out of it, or taking medication to suppress it. Instead, sit with the sorrow in the company of Brigid, her arm around your shoulders, her cloak sheltering your body, and let the emotions pour forth. You can help this process along by playing music; there are many recordings of Celtic music, in particular, that have an air of longing and even anguish, which can help tap the stuck places of grief within you.

Once the floodgates are opened, let the sounds of keening rise up from the depths and emerge to pierce the stillness. Rock back and forth, swaying your body, your hands covering your face (or veil yourself completely, to withdraw more deeply into the feelings). When you feel complete or exhausted, be still again, feeling the vibration of the silence, feeling Brigid’s warm, steady presence. Wrap yourself in a soft shawl or blanket. Light a candle, breathe deeply, and let the peace enter in.

In times past, significant loss such as the death of a loved one was marked by a year or more of respectful mourning. Other types of loss (ending a relationship, losing a job, the disappointment of a long-held hope) also need to be mourned and released. As always, listen to your intuition and to the voice of Brigid guiding you toward comfort and consolation. You will know when it is time to move on.64

Brigid as Maman Brigitte

Ellen Lorenzi-Prince

Ellen Lorenzi-Prince’s devotion finds expression through tarot. Her Tarot of the Crone, Dark Goddess Tarot, and Minoan Tarot are offerings she’s made to the ancient ones.

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Brought to the New World by Irish and Scottish immigrants, Brigid found a home in the hearts of the African slaves and within their syncretic Vodou religion. She became their Maman Brigitte, their Queen of the Cemetery and Mistress of the Ghede, the spirits of the underworld, the ancestors, the beloved dead.

Alone among the lwa—the mighty spirits of Vodou—Maman Brigitte is said to have come from the British Isles. Though she dresses in purple and black, the colors sacred to the Ghede, she retains her pale skin and red hair. Brigid’s skill in words and poetry transforms into tough talk in Maman Brigitte, whose speech is often obscene and confrontational, though never mean nor cruel. This is an avenue of power that Maman provided to her new children, who were often unable to express themselves in any way other than silence and subservience lest they be punished or killed. Brigid’s capacity for healing has been conveyed to Maman Brigitte as well. Prayers are offered to the Mistress of the Ghede in cases of illness that appear to be lost causes, that have responded to no other treatments, for she alone has the power to rekindle the fire of life that is flickering and near to dying out.

Yet as her titles state, Maman Brigitte’s consummate power lies within the realm of the dead. She reclaims the souls of those who have died, drawing them out from the mystical waters of that other world in which they swim without awareness or individuality. She draws them out by speaking to them, by naming them, by recalling to them their identity. She initiates souls into their new lives as lwa, as spirits reborn into power, cognizance, and memory. She is therefore the mother of all the ancestors. She creates their kinship. They become one family through her. They may become family to the reverential petitioner too, through the intercession of the goddess. As Maman Brigitte holds both life and death in her hands, the ancestors represent both the past and the future for the living, knowing as they do where the living have come from and where they will go in the end.

The ancestral spirits are accorded great respect by the followers of Vodou, as they are also by the Celtic tribes. Both have a holy day at the onset of the month of November, as the sun withdraws from the Northern Hemisphere and the people’s world enters into its darkest time. Candles are lit for the spirits. The candles are offerings of the light and the warmth of fire that the ancestors particularly miss in their new life. Specific foods are offered to them, for the spirits must be fed what they like if one would ask for their blessing, their guidance, and their protection. The Ghede of Maman Brigitte, the ancestors in the New World, enjoy the specialties found in this domain: rum and tobacco, peanuts and plantains, coffee and cornmeal.

Offerings and rituals for the dead and for their Mother are performed in graveyards. The grave of the first woman buried in any cemetery is sacred to Maman Brigitte. It is there her ceremonial cross is erected, there the offerings are given. The act of establishing her cross and recognizing her power consecrates the grave to the goddess. The grave then becomes a gateway for the lwa to reach out to their descendants, to touch them, to live in them, to speak to and through them, and to hear their songs of praise. It becomes a pathway for spiritual power and knowledge to cross from one realm into another.

Maman Brigitte opens the door between the worlds. She is a loving mother to both the living and the dead. She is wise and bawdy, she is sacred and profane. An alchemical mix of energies burn and flow within her being, and she offers these powers to her children with a fierce but tender heart.

For more about Ellen, see the Contributors appendix.

Brigid the Foster Mother

Among the praise-names for Saint Brigid is “foster mother of Christ.” This may seem strange to us today, as modern foster mothers take in children whose own mothers can’t care for them, and this doesn’t sound like something Mary would need. But the Celtic custom of fosterage is ancient, going back many centuries before Brigid was known as saint. The Celts sent their children to live with other families as a way of strengthening bonds among clans, both symbolically and practically. Respect and trust were the foundation of these exchanges, with the implied affirmation that you honored your clan-kin as worthy of raising your child. When Christian devotees called Saint Brigid the foster mother of Christ, it was the highest compliment they could bestow. Mary herself had handed over the upbringing of the savior of the world to her friend Brigid.

Does it matter that this fostering took place about five hundred years before Brigid was born? Not really. After all, this is a woman who could turn nettles into butter and hang her damp cloak on a sunbeam to dry. What’s a little time travel to her? On a less literal plane, the idea of Brigid as holy foster mother implies that she embodied the qualities needed for such a role: wisdom, courage, dedication, knowledge, and love.

We can see Brigid the goddess as our foster mother, too. It’s a different flavor of mothering than when we speak of a mother goddess—not better or worse, just different. A mother belongs to you from your birth; you are part of her in an inextricable way. A foster mother belongs to you by choice; she has welcomed you into her home, promised to protect and nurture you. Celtic fosterage relationships were considered to be five times stronger than blood connections, and the children of the fostering family became true siblings for life with the fosterlings. To say that Brigid is your foster mother proclaims a clan connection, an interweaving of her lineage with yours. You have a connection to her as well as to your own mother and your own clan. And all her other foster daughters are your sisters.

Brigid Anam Cara

Anam cara … soul friend. A lovely name for a lovely idea. We need to reclaim the sacred name of “friend” in its deepest sense. Many of those we might have called acquaintances in earlier times are now called friends, and when you factor in social media, the term is diminished even more. An anam cara rejoices with your joys, celebrates your triumphs, encourages your talents. In times of trouble, she never wavers. She knows you, through and through, warts and all. You may be fortunate enough to have such a soul friend in your life—if so, stop right now and send her your thanks.

But you have another anam cara, one who has been with you always. Brigid is the soul friend you can always turn to for good advice, solace, and perspective. She can always be trusted to tell you the truth you need to hear. When you need cheering up, she helps you find the laughter again. She doesn’t judge you harshly, but she doesn’t let you get away with self-deception. She listens.

Friendship isn’t a river, flowing in one direction only. It is a deep well from which both friends may draw freely, ever freshened by wellsprings of love. Brigid loves to connect with you as much as you love to connect with her. This kind of friendship with the Goddess may seem strange if you were raised in a religion with patriarchal limits on familiarity. Intimacy requires approachability. A heavenly deity can seem very far away sometimes. Brigid is down-to-earth, in every way.

Good for the Soul

In his book How the Irish Saved Civilization, Thomas Cahill describes how the Catholic practice of confession was a revolutionary concept when it was introduced. It was a strangely compassionate and peaceful idea that by telling your transgressions to someone else and receiving absolution and a penance, you could be restored to innocence again. The sinful act itself, if it affected other people, would still need to be atoned for, but it was a wise observation by the early Church that the real damage was done to the soul of the transgressor. Finding a way to be forgiven was empowering in a way that hadn’t been experienced in that faith before. It offered a clean emotional slate from which to “go forth and sin no more.”

Pagans don’t observe the practice of confession, but sometimes we do need to tell our story to a trusted counselor and embrace self-forgiveness. We are so hard on ourselves, much harder than we are on others. It can be challenging to come around to seeing mistakes and errors as necessary lessons on the soul’s path to wisdom—and to release the guilt or shame that may have come along for the ride. When people confessed to Saint Brigid, she “sained” (blessed) their eyes so they could see the truth clearly and find resolution. A wise counselor can help you find the courage to look at your life’s lessons, accept them, bless them, and release them. When you do this healing soul-work, envision Brigid placing her hands over your eyes and saining your inner vision.

In Brigid’s name:

Let blame be forgotten,

Let cause be forgiven,

Let fault be abandoned.

Song and Silence: Brigid’s Soul Restorers

As goddess of poetry, Brigid is also goddess of music, for ancient Celtic poetry was sung or chanted. The Celts named three types (or “strains”) of music:

The Suantraighé, which no one could hear without falling into a delightful slumber; the Goltraighé, which no one could hear without bursting into tears and lamentation; and the Geantraighé, which no one could hear without bursting out into loud and irrepressible laughter. 65

Brigid is present in each of these strains. Your body and spirit find healing rest with her Suantraighé. Her Goltraighé pulls at your heartstrings to bring a needed release of emotions. And when it’s time to put things back in perspective or lift a sullen mood, Brigid brings out her Geantraighé to set your toes tapping. You can hear these themes in Celtic music, but they are present in all music. Think about the songs and melodies you love most and see where they fall in the three categories:

Suantraighé, the sleep-strain

Goltraighé, the sorrow-strain

Geantraighé, the joy-strain

These are not meant to be taken literally—you don’t have to be conked out by the Suantraighé to find soothing serenity. The Goltraighé can be music of deep spiritual yearning, the longing of the soul toward its beloved. And the Geantraighé might offer heart-healing through a happy memory—taking you back to that summer day when you were riding in the front seat of your cousins’ old truck, the three of you singing a Laura Nyro song together at top volume.

Speaking of singing, be sure to embody Brigid’s healing music by making it yourself as well as listening to recordings or live music. We all sing when we are young; it’s a natural part of human expression. Learn to play a musical instrument if you feel called to it—and no, you’re not too old. Here’s a tale of one of Saint Brigid’s miracles: A feast was given in her honor at a great house, where she saw beautiful carved harps hanging on the wall. After the meal she suggested some music would add to the evening’s pleasure. “Alas,” said the lord of the hall, “there are no harpers present.” Brigid’s nuns teased their abbess that she should just bless the serving men’s hands so they could play. And of course, she did, and of course, they did, beautifully. Forever after, they were master harpists. With Brigid’s blessing on your hands, take up the harp (or piano, or drum, or trombone!) and make some music to add to her pleasure—and yours.

Sacred Sound Current

Lisa Thiel

Lisa Thiel is a visionary artist, ceremonial singer, and songwriter. She is a priestess of Brighid and Kuan Yin in the Fellowship of Isis. Her songs of the Goddess are sung in circles around the world.

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As a musician, I draw upon the fire and water aspects of Brighid, the energies of inspiration and intuitive feeling. I feel my music has a spiritual healing aspect to it that I attribute to Brighid’s blessing.

My favorite Brighid song is my Imbolc song from Circle of the Seasons, about the tradition of her being “invited into her bed” on Imbolc Eve. I believe this is inviting the spark of inspiration into the bed of our unconscious for the new year.

Blessed Bridget, comest thou in

Bless this house and all of our kin

Bless this house and all of our kin

Protect this house and all within

Blessed Bridget, come into thy bed

With a gem at thy heart and a crown on thy head

Awaken the fire within our souls

Awaken the fire that makes us whole

Blessed Bridget, queen of the fire

Help us to manifest our desire

May we bring forth all that’s good and fine

May we give birth to our dreams in time

Blessed Bridget, comest thou in

Bless this house and all of our kin

From the source of Infinite Light

Kindle the flame of our spirits tonight 66

Brighid came to me once in a dream. She was in a great shrine room with a sacred flame burning, and she held a staff of amber (symbol of the sacred fire of the sun and blood of ancient trees) and was sitting on an amber throne. There were crimson velvet curtains in the back of the room, and I was to bless and purify myself with the fire, ask for her blessing, and go into the velvet (womb) to give birth to my dream. Her crown was very strange—three thin circlets of gold at odd angles. I feel this unusual quality of her crown represented (in my personal symbology) the energy of Uranus, the planet associated with unconventional paths and also lightning inspiration that breaks up existing paradigms to create a new state.

As Brighid is the essence of inspiration and the creative life force itself, she is the true spirit of all music. When I begin to sing, my entire being is as open to that spirit as it can possibly be, especially my heart. Through the intensity of feeling and passion for the music, I experience that spirit energy flowing through me, down my crown, into my heart, and out of my throat as sound—and it is ecstatic.

Each individual must connect with the deity in their own way according to their needs, but I feel that every time a candle is lit, a fire is lit, we can think of her, remembering her Holy Flame. Throughout the Wheel of the Year we can remember her light, meditating on the fire that never dies, that is within us all.

Chanting, singing spiritual songs and prayers, creates a sacred sound current that transforms the consciousness. It invokes the sacred fire within, feeds it, sustains it, and clears all that blocks its way. This is the essence of my path and it is an integral part of my music, which is my offering as a priestess to the Goddess.

For more about Lisa, see the Contributors and Resources appendices.

Soulful Silence

We live in a loud age. It’s not just the sounds of machines and traffic and other invasive noises that fill the air. There is also a constant barrage of mind-noise. Compare our time with, say, Jane Austen’s era. It took time to write a letter, time for it to travel to its recipient, and time to read and absorb it at the reader’s leisure. Today, the speed at which information moves seems to require that we keep up with it. Interruptions happen frequently. Most people carry a phone with them everywhere they go, and social media distractions tug and poke and nibble. I feel guilty if a couple of days go by without replying to an email, because I know my correspondent knows that I got it instantly. Jane would be astonished.

This information overload makes it hard to find the silence you need to hear Brigid’s guidance and the wisdom of your own soul. It doesn’t seem to matter much whether you live alone or with others, in the city or the country—real, nurturing silence is still hard to come by. I live in a quiet place and have plenty of outward solitude that would seem to foster a deep communion with all that is Goddess. Yet, because my mind is stuffed full of info-clutter, I need to consciously remind myself to shut it all down sometimes and seek the silent place. I find stillness most easily outside, in nature. With just a few moments under the open sky, a veil parts and I’m able to more clearly see where I am in my life and on my path. I ask my questions, and the answers come so lovingly and readily. My heart fills with gratitude for the presence of Brigid.

The real goal is to find that inner silence no matter where you are—in nature, in your kitchen, or sitting at your desk. While being mindful of exterior noise, also pay attention to how much you fill the corners of your mind with interior noise. You’re not crazy—there really are voices in your head! Way too many, for most of us. Do some honest evaluation about the quantity of mind-noise that flows to you every day. Seriously consider how much you really need to be “plugged in” and how much it would change your life to unplug some of the time. For example, if you normally carry a phone with you, how much would it bother you to not carry it for a day? If you are old enough to know such a time, think back to the days when you didn’t have a cell phone, didn’t have email, didn’t have instant communication available to you at all hours of the day and night. How was life different for you then? How was your inner life different? Was it more your own?

Sometimes we create noise because we are afraid of the silence. We’ve all known people who keep the TV or other external sounds going all the time because the silence bothers them so much. Do you have some of this fear in you? There are many ways to avoid inner silence too—even something positive like reading can be a way of avoiding what wants to come through in the silence of a truly open mind. Be aware of this and work on coming to balance with it as needed. Brigid encourages the acquisition of knowledge, but she wants you to have depth as well as breadth. Your curious mind is a gift from her, so don’t waste it. Let there be times of taking in information and times of just letting the information you already have do its work. This is how we deepen, through thoughtful exploration of what is known—and what is unknown, the great Mystery.

Here is a simple way to feel the power of silence:

1. Sit comfortably in a place and at a time when you feel free to make some noise.

2. Close your eyes. Focus your awareness in the center of your chest. Envision a flame glowing there.

3. Begin to intone a low single-syllable sound, such as Aum (Om), Ma, or Ah. Start softly and gradually increase the volume. Take deep breaths so you can hold the note as long as possible. Keep intoning until you feel surrounded and submerged in the sound, to the point where you aren’t consciously making the sound—it’s just emerging from you, louder and louder.

4. And then stop.

5. Keep your eyes closed and feel the shimmering energy of the silence that follows sound. Don’t direct your thoughts; just let the silence wash over you. When you feel complete, open your eyes.

A lengthy hermitage or retreat is at one end of the silence spectrum, but silence can be attained in much simpler ways, moment to moment. In some religious traditions, silence is observed when tending to sacred objects, even while washing them and putting them away. The silence keeps the action from becoming trivial, and it brings the full focus of attention to everything about the objects and their symbolic meaning. You can practice this when you are washing the dishes, taking the trash out, or walking the dog. Silence opens you to beauty and understanding, which you will then find all around you, every day.

Brigid of the Augury

The ancient Celts used divination and seership to see the future, find the right timing for an endeavor, or learn about events happening at a distance. “Classical writers speak of the Celts as of all nations the most devoted to, and the most experienced in, the science of divination.” 67 Priestesses, “divineresses,” 68 and the ban-drui (woman-Druids) were all known for their powers of in-seeing and far-seeing. Celtic methods of divination were often intense, and seers might go into ecstatic convulsions as part of the trance-utterance. Decisions were made with the help of auguries, often involving birds. This seership was part of the gift of the filí, Brigid’s poets and keepers of lore. But divination wasn’t left to the professionals alone—deeper meaning was accessible to all who cared to look for it. And it still is.

Brigid of the mantles,

Brigid of the peat-heap,

Brigid of the twining hair,

Brigid of the augury.69

As I stood at my kitchen window on a grey Oregon morning, filling my kettle for tea, a flash of black and white caught my eye—a white seagull and a black crow, both quite large, swooping among the bare February trees. “Balance,” I thought. “The light and the shadow.” I had been stuck in shadow for the past few days, and the birds reminded me to seek balance and come back into a more expansive (those great wings!) place in my soul. Now that I was aware of birds, my gaze was immediately caught by two tiny wrens darting around one of my apple trees. This tree was also winter-bare, but covered in vivid green moss. The old tree has knotholes where birds nest, and I’d seen these two flirting and courting the day before. Now they were pecking at the moss, perhaps readying a nest somewhere nearby. “Settle and get busy,” came the message. “The time of creative awakening is near.”

Once your mind is open to the acquisition of messages, they are everywhere and, as with my birds, often lead from one to the next. With my gaze drawn outward by gull and crow, I could then have gone on to read signs in the clouds and the wind that blew them, the sounds the wind carried to me, and so on. But as it happened, the next sound after watching the wrens was the tea kettle—a sign to come back to my indoor life of work and discipline. That too is a message.

As you learn to see the everyday world in terms of symbol and metaphor, it becomes easier and more commonplace to connect to the Otherworld of auguries and portents. The more you listen, the more you will hear. The more you look, the more you will see. It sounds ridiculously simplistic, I know, but divination is a learned skill. The root words divinatio and divinare mean “inspiration” and “guess.” Open to Brigid’s inspiration and learn to wisely guess at the meanings of signs you perceive. Celtic spirituality is always in tune with the mystical, so don’t be surprised if you find yourself receiving divinatory messages at unexpected times. When you take out your tarot cards, you hope and expect to be in tune with the oracle, but if you suddenly see your dripping tea bag as a pendulum, heed its message!

Scrying

How many times have you gazed vacantly at something and suddenly seen a face or received an image in your mind, a flash of inspiration? Water, fire, natural patterns such as leaves or trees, clouds, smoke, even patterns like wallpaper—all offer opportunities in which to see through the obvious to the symbolic. This divination practice is called scrying.

Romantic media interpretations of scrying may have led the hopeful scryer to expect a sort of movie to form suddenly in the gazing bowl, mirror, or crystal ball. While this may happen for a lucky few, for most of us, scrying is a much more subtle art, involving trust and the willingness to go with our first intuitive impressions. The secret is to “soften” your gaze. Remember those pictures that were popular for a while that looked like a jumble of points until suddenly they swam together to form a 3-D image? This is what softening your gaze is about. It is a gently fixed stare in the middle-distance or in the direction of your gazing object. You are not watching, as you would watch television, but rather, you are allowing your eye to see through the obvious—and allowing your mind’s eye to interpret freely.

For instance, when I lived near the ocean, I would go there on moonlit nights to watch the silver-white light on the moving water. One night as I sat alone on the cliff, the shimmering patterns came together to form a dancing sea-goddess. She was so clear and her presence so strong, all I could do was continue to gaze in rapture and gratitude for this vision. And after a while—suddenly or gradually, I don’t know—it was just light on water again, quiet and steady and mysterious. I had not been trying to see anything, or scry for a shape or a message, but I had allowed my sight to soften so that the otherworldly impression could come through.

The ancient Celts had several ways of scrying, including observing the smoke and flames of sacred fires. This practice is perfect for devotees of Brigid, whether you do a formal flamekeeping practice or not. Fire-scrying at the hearth comes naturally—who hasn’t fallen into a dreamy state while watching the flames? But it can be just as powerful to scry with a single candle, an oil lamp, or a group of floating candles in a bowl. Center yourself with an open intention to receive any messages, then soften your gaze and relax. The moment is precious no matter what happens. Release your expectations and let Brigid take over. For additional insights, before you extinguish your candle, drip some wax into a dish of water and interpret the shapes it forms. This is a variation on an old custom of melting lead or tin and dropping small molten bits into water.70 Keep the melted shapes as talismans if they are fortuitous; melt them down again if they are ill-aspected.

A Poetry Oracle

As goddess of poetry and lore, Brigid may speak to you through divination that involves written or spoken words. This can be done in many ways, such as bibliomancy, where you open a book at random and place your finger on a page, then interpret what the indicated words might mean to you. Or even audiomancy: paying attention to the first few words you hear when you turn on your radio or television. I just kitchen-tested this one for you. The first words I heard were “flies through the air with the greatest of ease”—it was the sing-along on the bus in It Happened One Night. I then switched to PBS and heard “two things are given to you”—I had lucked upon an interview with one of my favorite spiritual teachers, Brother David Steindl-Rast. I interpret these messages to mean that if I free myself from fear and just let my spirit fly, two things will be given to me. Time will tell what those will be!

Let’s honor Brigid as goddess of wordsmithing and invoke her wise guidance by creating a poetry oracle. With this oracle, you will use fragments of poems as you might use runes, tarot cards, or other oracular tools.

You will need:

A basket, box, or jar that you can fit your hand inside

Printouts of two or more poems, with space between the lines

Scissors

1. Find at least two poems whose imagery and language appeal to you. Try to avoid assigning any divinatory meaning to the lines just yet—it helps to work quickly and not dwell on the words.

2. Print out your poems or write them out by hand, leaving space between the lines.

3. Cut the individual lines apart, so that you have many little slips of paper. If two lines insist on staying together, that’s fine, but no more than that. Remember, the art of divination is in working with symbols, not having the message spelled out for you (literally).

4. Fold up the slips of paper, and toss them to mix the lines well. Place your papers in your chosen container.

5. Close your eyes and put yourself in a receptive and calm state of mind. Offer this triad to Brigid:

Sense be in my thought,

Understanding be in my heart,

Wisdom be in my soul.

6. When you feel ready, draw out three slips of paper and open them.

7. Pay attention to your very first thoughts upon reading the lines—this is what you sense, what your intuition gives you without filtering or censoring.

8. Now explore the words for deeper understanding. What specific associations do they have for you? Does the order of the lines matter? Or do they seem to stand on their own, without connection? Take your time.

9. Finally, just sit quietly for a few moments, eyes closed, and ask Brigid if there is any wisdom she wants to add to your interpretation. Know that you may receive this at some time in the future, too. When you are done, fold up the lines and put them back into the jar.

I did this divination just now, using an ancient Irish poem, “King and Hermit,” and my favorite Shakespeare sonnet, number 73, “That time of year thou mayst in me behold.” The three fragments I chose were all from the Irish poem, as it happens:

The strains of the bright redbreasted little fellows

in a great flock

delightful music

These lines don’t fall together in the poem itself, but they work so well together here that it feels like a single message, rather than three. Because the last divination I did was the audiomancy I mentioned earlier, I see the two as being related—air energy, bird magic, a feeling of light and delight. A reminder to seek out those who encourage that in me—my great flock! 71

Add to your poetry oracle from time to time or make a completely new one. If you are part of a circle, this is a great oracle to make together. Have everyone bring a batch of lines, mix them all together, and then draw out enough to fill your individual containers. It’s a poetry potluck! Or you might make a jar for a special friend and ask her to make one for you. When it’s someone else’s poetry choices, you are sure to be surprised, but you will be surprised in any case, I guarantee you. Brigid of the augury will send you the right words at the right time, exactly what you need to hear.

Emerging from the Forge:
Your Name Poem

Celtic bards created name poems that could be used as prayer, meditation, affirmation, or spell. Such a poem could enlighten or confound those to whom it was spoken. Writing a name poem for yourself is a powerful way to honor what you are now, what you have been, what you hope to become. It’s especially meaningful to create a name poem when you have been through a forge experience and emerged transformed.

There are many forms such a ceremonial name can take. A bard might sing a poem of naming as both introduction and riddle, playing with double meanings, revealing secrets only to those who understand the metaphors used. A famous example is the name poem attributed to the Welsh bard Taliesin, a fragment of which is:

I have been a narrow sword,

A drop in the air,

A shining bright star,

A letter among words

In the book of origins.

I have been lanternlight

For a year and a day,

I have been a bridge

Spanning threescore rivers.

Or this name poem, sung by the poet Amairgin upon first setting foot on Ireland’s shore:

I am a dewdrop in the sun.

I am the fairest of flowers.

I am a boar for boldness.

I am a salmon in a pool.

I am a lake in a plain.

I am a word of skill.

I am the point of a weapon.

To begin your own name poem, create sacred space in the way that feels right to you, whether at your altar or in a spot where you feel creatively inspired. Light a candle and invoke Brigid’s presence to illuminate your insight and inspire your word weaving. Start to write down attributes you would share if you wanted someone to know you very well, know your deepest soul. Proclaim your most powerful self, whisper of your most vulnerable self, delve into the mysteries of your psyche and give them a name. Incorporate symbols that speak to you, astrological lore, alphabetical plays on the letters of your name, or poetic metaphors for your life experiences. For example, if you have three daughters, you could express this in many ways, such as:

I am the birthgiver of women, three times have I delivered …

or

From my womb have spilled forth three sweet fruits …

Other things you may wish to include in your name poem are spiritual turning points, events that shaped you (for good or ill), challenges you have faced, or ways you have survived. Look back over your life’s journey and see where you have deepened and grown. You may wish to give name to your shadow self, your anger, your fears, your temper, your failings and faults as well as your skills and strengths. These are all part of you and may need naming as part of healing.

Let the words pour from you. Don’t edit yourself too much, and remember there is no way to do this wrong. Your name poem may change and grow over time, but the poem you create now marks who you are today, at this point in your life path. This isn’t a place for modesty and humility (except perhaps to proclaim them as virtues you possess). For example, in my name poem, written when I was in my late thirties, I included the line A luminous mind, knowing much. My mind is perhaps not quite so luminous post-menopause, but what I know is deeper. When I write my crone poem, it will reflect that. Here is an excerpt from my friend Callista Lee’s name poem:

She who finds comfort when her belly is upon the warm Earth, as a snake

She who shares the awareness and grace of a deer

She who is a mother to cats and shares with them a cougar’s soul

She who is guarded by the Great Bear and beloved by the heavens …

Our Lady of the Clipboard, She who understands and plans

She who breathes in wisdom and speaks so that others may hear

Teacher, student, mentor, facilitator, friend …

I am a bit of moonlight.

I am a piece of the web.

I am a part of the world soul …

When you have finished your name poem, be sure to read it aloud to yourself. In the bardic tradition, no poem was complete until it was declaimed by voice. Stand and speak it freely, sing it, offer it to Brigid. This is a powerful exercise to do in a trust-filled group.

I wrote my name poem in 1992. Some of it doesn’t fit me quite as well as it did at the time, and some of it fits me more now than when I wrote it (your name poem may be prophetic!). This is my name poem:

Storm caller,

I hear the song of the misty hills,

I hear the song of the cold black seas,

I feel longing that never ceases.

Water of the ninth wave shall quench my thirst.

I am a hermit’s anchorage, secret,

A luminous mind, knowing much,

A seeker of deep wisdom,

A harp string, vibrating.

Mine is the eloquence of the bard.

Beware of sorceresses, for they are quick to anger,

Quick of wit and quick of judgment.

I am she of the six opinions,

I am she who stirs the cauldron,

She who holds the Stone of Truth.

Oak and mistletoe wear I, the druid’s sign,

The triple moon of the priestess.

I know the lore of tree and stone,

I know the power of words,

And the silence in which magic is born.

I am the opener of the gate,

I am the badger in its sett,

I am the owl, ever watchful,

First into battle, the raven’s cry,

And at Brigid’s forge I temper my blade.

49. Carmina Gadelica, commentary on verse 70.

50. These traditional triads, gathered from manuscripts dating back to the fourteenth century, are all from Meyer, trans., The Triads of Ireland.

51. Anonymous, probably tenth century, from Meyer, ed. and trans., Miscellanea Hibernica.

52. Rukeyser, “Käthe Kollwitz.”

53. Irish moss, hawthorn, and muslin bags are all available at herb stores. See the Resources appendix.

54. Adapted from Carmina Gadelica, 217. If you wish, you can write the blessing and dissolve the paper in the water.

55. Adapted from Carmina Gadelica, 264.

56. MacCulloch, The Religion of the Ancient Celts.

57. Yeats, “The Two Trees.”

58. Yeats, “The Wild Swans at Coole.”

59. Adapted from a traditional Imbolc verse.

60. Lady Gregory, A Book of Saints and Wonders.

61. Goronwy Owen, “Elegy for His Daughter Ellen,” 1755, in Jackson, A Celtic Miscellany.

62. Adapted from Jackson, A Celtic Miscellany. Lines date from the twelfth to the nineteenth century or earlier.

63. Faery women, pronounced “banshee.”

64. Read more about the custom of keening and traditional Irish mourning at Library Ireland, www.libraryireland.com/articles/IrishFuneralCryDPJ1-31.

65. O’Curry, Lectures on the Manuscript Materials of Ancient Irish History.

66. “Imbolc,” ©2004 Lisa Thiel (used by permission).

67. MacCulloch, The Religion of the Ancient Celts.

68. Ibid.

69. Carmina Gadelica, 263.

70. If this interests you, do a web search for “molybdomancy.”

71. From “King and Hermit,” in Meyer, Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry.