Brighid the Mother

by Claire Hamilton

My festival is Imbolc ‘in womb’ time, so besides being the Maiden, I am also the Mother who bears the burden of the coming spring.

This is my lineage. I am the daughter of the Dagda, the Good God, king of the Tuatha de Danaan, the faerie people. With them I came, blown in a magic mist across the sea to Erin . But the mist was the far-furled smoke of our ships as we burned them on the western shores of Connemara . For we pledged ourselves to that land and swore we would never turn our faces towards the sea again. And so we shared that land with the Fomorians, the ancient giant race who lived there.

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Brighid’s Runes in Sweden: The Völva and the Sun

by Kirsten Brunsgaard Clausen

Brighid Cross"Brighid is here, Brighid is here!” The children in Gaelic areas still merrily announce Her coming to this day.

It is the 2nd of February. Icy cold. The earth is frozen deep. The landscape black, white, grey. No life. The world is dreaming, still and deep. Cailleach, the Wise Mother, has reigned throughout the winter - now even Her time has come. On every hearth the fire is put out, the last glow cooling to coal and ashes. Silence.

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