Tag: spell

Straif (Blackthorn) II

“If the Hawthorn and Blackthorn have many berries, the ensuing winter is expected to be severe.” – A.W. Moore (Folk-Lore of the Isle of Man. 1891)

The Roots:

The fourteenth letter of the Ogham, in its tree form, is Straif. This letter is generally associated with the Blackthorn, or sloe, tree.

The Blackthorn has a very dark and dangerous reputation within Celtic folklore. It is almost always associated with the dead, other types of spirits, or to the Underworld.

The kennings, or word-Oghams, found within the Ogham Tract[i] are interpreted by John Mathews in the Celtic Shaman. The phrase “strongest red,[ii]” for example, is supposed to further elaborate on the meaning of the letter Straif[iii]. John Mathews interprets this phrase as representing “anger.”

Robert Ellison says that the Blackthorn represents “trouble and negativity” within Ogham: the Secret Language of the Druids. He also says that the Blackthorn can be used, “for protection, repelling and dissolution spells.”

Caitlin Mathews’ divination system found within Celtic Wisdom Sticks does not always allow for each letter to be summarized easily into a single phrase, keyword, or idea. This oracle allows for separate interpretations for each of the four navigational directions. For example there will be a separate meaning for Straif in the North position, in the West position, and so on. While many of the letters have a more unified theme between these four interpretations, Straif in this case represents a tangled variety of meanings within the book. The ideas found therein are related to: showing oneself, hiding oneself (cunning/camouflage), discernment, and unity.

While the Blackthorn may seem to have a wide range of possible meanings within the Ogham tract and elsewhere, these interpretations are much more similar to each other than we may originally realize. The tree is often interpreted as representing things that are associated with “negativity.” These negatives can be anger, strife, poverty, bad luck, pain, suffering, harmful fairies, or even ghosts. This is no coincidence. These interpretations for Blackthorn can often be traced directly back to the tree’s folkloric associations.

Straif, or the Blackthorn, is the tree of the dead.

The Trunk:

There’s no question about it, the Blackthorn is by far the witchiest tree found within the Ogham[iv].

The first example I will share comes from the time of myth. In it we have the “three times fifty” men of Da Derga armed with Blackthorn sticks. This can be found within Lady Gregory’s 1902 classic Cuchulain of Muirthemne. In it, the inn keeper Da Derga arrives with these 150 men brandishing Blackthorn clubs. It’s never entirely clear in the story either, whether or not the inn exists in this world or in the Otherworld. If we are to assume that the story takes place in the Otherworld, then these soldiers are the Sidhe. These Sidhe (pronounced she) are the earliest form of fairy recorded in Irish myth.

By the time of folklore much has changed. The Sidhe, for example, have transformed. They have lost their god-like status and became protectors of the natural world instead. The Lunanti-shee (Sidhe) are a type of spirit that guards the Blackthorn trees specifically. This Blackthorn specialist is found discussed within W.Y. Evans 1911 book Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries. This protector of the Blackthorn is listed as one of the reasons why it is especially bad luck to cut down one of these trees.

The Lunantishee can not claim exclusive rights to the Blackthorn, however. There is an apparition, for example, who carries a Blackthorn club in Joseph Jacob’s 1892 Celtic Fairy Tales. An angel found within Lady Gregory’s 1906 Book of Saints and Wonders who appears as a bird in a Blackthorn tree. There is even a giant’s daughter who compels a prince to create a Blackthorn forest from a single twig. This tale is found within Joseph Jacob’s 1892 Celtic Fairy Tales.

(Illustration by John D. Batten. Celtic Fairy Tales. 1892)

The angel in the tree seems like an especially strange addition, though, especially considering that the Blackthorn is an enemy of Jesus. According to the 1900 text Carmina Gadelica by Alexander Carmicheal, the Blackthorn is one of the trees that betrayed Christ at the Crucification along with the Reed, the Aspen and the Fig tree[v]. Stories such as this one are often suspected to be tales that pre existed Christianity; only changing enough to continue existing.

The Blackthorn tree, after all, must have been feared by the early superstitious Christians. In the hands of a pagan, a single staff or wand could wield incredible power. In Tales of the Fairies and the Ghost World by Jeremiah Curtin, published in 1895, we find that the Blackthorn stick can be used to call on fairies and for protection from ghosts. In the 1917 book Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and Legend by Donald Alexander Mackenzie, the Blackthorn in conjunction with the Rowan and Witch-hazel offers protection from the spirits of “the Under-world.” There are also sailors found within J.F. Campbell`s 1890 collection Popular Tales of the West Highlands who use a Blackthorn stick to help them travel “three castles underground.”

One of the most interesting Blackthorn tales, however, can be found within Lady Wilde`s 1887 text Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland. It would seem as if the Blackthorn also has a certain unexplained power over the werewolf-like shape shifters of Ireland. In this story, we are introduced to a farmer named Conner who is missing two of his cows. He takes his Blackthorn staff and leaves his home in search of the animals. Eventually, Conner finds a strange house and is invited in. The hosts turn out to be strange, cold, and not very empathetic, however. When it finally becomes clear to Conner that these strangers will be of no help, he loses his temper and chastises them completely:

“Then the eldest of the young men stood up. ‘Wait,’ he said, ‘we are fierce and evil, but we never forget a kindness. Do you remember, one day down in the glen you found a poor little wolf in great agony and like to die, because a sharp thorn had pierced his side? And you gently extracted the thorn and gave him a drink, and went your way leaving him in peace and rest?’ ‘Aye, well do I remember it,’ said Connor, ‘and how the poor little beast licked my hand in gratitude.’ ‘Well,’ said the young man, ‘I am that wolf, and I shall help you if I can, but stay with us to-night and have no fear.’ So they sat down again to supper and feasted merrily, and then all fell fast asleep, and Connor knew nothing more till he awoke in the morning and found himself by a large hay-rick in his own field. ‘Now surely,’ thought he, ‘the adventure of last night was not all a dream, and I shall certainly find my cows when I go home; for that excellent, good young wolf promised his help, and I feel certain he would not deceive me.’ But when he arrived home and looked over the yard and the stable and the field, there was no sign nor sight of the cows. So he grew very sad and dispirited. But just then he espied in the field close by three of the most beautiful strange cows he had ever set eyes on. ‘These must have strayed in,’ he said, ‘from some neighbour’s ground;’ and he took his big stick to drive them out of the gate off the field. But when he reached the gate, there stood a young black wolf watching; and when the cows tried to pass out at the gate he bit at them, and drove them back. Then Connor knew that his friend the wolf had kept his word. So he let the cows go quietly back to the field; and there they remained, and grew to be the finest in the whole country, and their descendants are flourishing to this day, and Connor grew rich and prospered; for a kind deed is never lost, but brings good luck to the doer for evermore, as the old proverb says; ‘Blessings are won, By a good deed done.’ But never again did Connor find that desolate heath or that lone shieling, though he sought far and wide, to return his thanks, as was due to the friendly wolves nor did he ever again meet any of the family, though he mourned much whenever a slaughtered wolf was brought into the town for the sake of the reward, fearing his excellent friend might be the victim. At that time the wolves in Ireland had increased to such an extent, owing to the desolation of the country by constant wars, that a reward was offered and a high price paid for every wolf’s skin brought into the court of the justiciary; and this was in the time of Queen Elizabeth, when the English troops made ceaseless war against the Irish people, and there were more wolves in Ireland than men; and the dead lay unburied in hundreds on the highways, for there were no hands left to dig them graves.”

This is a very interesting and symbolic tale. Not only does Conner carry a Blackthorn staff, he extracted one of the tree`s thorns from the side of the wolf when it was just a pup! The message is clear. Conner may be a friend of these unusual wolf-men, but it is the Blackthorn, somehow, that has allowed this relationship to exist. This tale is believed to have been passed down in oral tradition from a much earlier date. The last wolf of Ireland was killed in 1786[vi].

Blackthorn is the one tree of the Ogham, which lends incredible power to the most humble of all people; the commoner. For that, it is both feared and loved.

The Foliage:

The following passage is taken from the 1881 book British Goblins by Wirt Sikes:

“Where a well of the requisite virtue is not conveniently near, the favourite form of charm for wart-curing is in connection with the wasting away of some selected object. Having first been pricked into the wart, the pin is then thrust into the selected object—in Gloucestershire it is a snail—and then the object is buried or impaled on a blackthorn in a hedge, and as it perishes the wart will disappear. The scapegoat principle of the sin-eater also appears in connection with charming away warts, as where a vagrom man counts your warts, marks their number in his hat, and goes away, taking the warts with him into the  next county—for a trifling consideration.”

The same spell appears in John Rhys 1900 text Celtic Folklore: Welsh and Manx. In this other book we are also informed of a type of divination that involves the Blackthorn. It involves the thorn of the tree or shrub.

According to the oral tradition of the time, the thorn was thrown into the well of a certain parish. This ritual was performed by young women who wanted to know if their love was real. If the thorn floated then it was good news; the love was in fact real. If the thorn sank, on the other hand, it meant that the love was not sincere.

 

 “Blackthorn. This thorny shrub was thought to provide protection against ghosts in Ireland and has long been popular in lightweight walking-sticks. It should not be cut on 11 May or 11 November.” – James Mackillop (Dictionary of Celtic Mythology. 1998)


[i] http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/ogham.html

[ii] Ibid.

[iii] The document seems to be describing the magical properties of each letter in its tree form. Another explanation, however, could be that the descriptions found within the Ogham Tract are mere mnemonic devices. This is hard for me to personally believe given the symbolic nature of Celtic poetry and art.

[iv] I am referring to the Ogham in its tree form.

[v] An interesting side note: Straif does not actually mean Blackthorn but sulphur (Caitlin Mathews). With the introduction of the church, sulphur would come to have associations with hell and with the devil. J.C. Cooper. An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols. 1979.

Ngetal (Reed Grass) II

“When a cow hesitates to cross, the person driving her throws a stalk or a twig into the ditch before the unwilling animal and sings the ‘Feith Mhoire,’ Vein of Mary, to encourage her to cross, and to assure her that a safe bridge is before her. The stalk may be of any corn or grass except the reed, and the twig of any wood except the wild fig, the aspen, and the thorn. All these are forbidden, or ‘crossed’ as the people say, because of their ungracious conduct to the Gracious One. The reed is ‘crossed’ because it carried the sponge dipped in vinegar; the fig-tree because of its inhospitality; the aspen because it held up its head haughtily, proud that the cross was made of its wood, when all the trees of the forest–all save the aspen alone–bowed their heads in reverence to the King of glory passing by on the way to Calvary; and the thorn-tree because of its prickly pride in having been made into a crown for the King of kings.” – Alexander Carmichael (Carmina Gadelica Vol. II. 1900)

The Roots:

The thirteenth letter of the tree-Ogham is Ngetal, or Reed. Reed is the most common association for this letter. Ngetal may also be found as Broom or Fern, however.

Within the previous Ngetal post, we discovered that Reed was a neopagan addition to the Ogham[i] and not the original association to the letter at all! Reed, as a choice for this letter, was first promoted within Robert Graves’ the White Goddess. Liz and Colin Murray later adopted Graves’ interpretation for Ngetal -as the Reed- within the Celtic Tree Oracle. Most neopagan users of the Ogham today can trace their information on the Ogham directly to these two sources. As a result, Reed is the most common interpretation for Ngetal.

The more academic users of the Ogham – as far as authenticity – usually interpret Ngetal as the Broom plant or the Fern. This is indisputably more accurate. For the purposes of this blog, however, I will cover the Reed in the sections below. As far as the Broom, we will cover it four weeks from now when we take a look at the Gorse. The reasons for this will be explained at that time. I have no plan to research the Fern; at least not at this time.

John Mathews, Caitlin Mathews, Eryn Rowan Laurie and Robert Elison are all examples of individuals who approach the Ogham from a historical or reconstructionist perspective. Liz and Colin Murray, John Michael Greer, Jacqueline Memory Paterson, Nigel Pennick and many other individuals on the other hand, come from the neopagan background as far as the Ogham. This second group tends to also believe in the Tree Calendar[ii].

John Mathews interprets the Ngetal word-Ogham, “physician’s strength,” as meaning “healing.” As we covered previously, the word-Oghams are phrases or sayings found within the Ogham Tract alongside each of the trees[iii]. John Mathews interprets many of these kennings within his book the Celtic Shaman.

Robert Elison says that Ngetal represents “working and tools” within his book Ogham: the Secret Language of the Druids. Elison also says that the Broom has long associations to healing, as well as being used as a magical tool.

In Celtic Wisdom Sticks, Caitlin Mathews says that the word-Oghams for Ngetal are very “obscure” but that they all seem “to stem from an older Irish word to do with wounding.” Caitlin Mathews’ system of divination seems to use both wounding and healing as possible interpretations for Ngetal.

Ngetal represents healing and sometimes wounding. These interpretations are take-aways from the Ogham Tract and should not be seen as having any direct relationship to the Reed found within Celtic mythology or folklore. The Reed is never even mentioned within the text[iv]!

The Reed was a Robert Graves invention. If we intend on using the Reed plant to represent Ngetal, then we should at least be aware that it is not authentic. This is especially important because the Ogham is a symbol of a real living people and not some abstract idea taken from a book.

The Irish and other Celts suffered many generations of persecution and ethnocide. As a result, much of the past has been lost. There are many who now struggle to reclaim what has been lost or forgotten to bring things back into balance. These are the reconstructionists.

The neopagans choose, on the other hand, to use the original Ogham as inspiration for their own belief systems and not as a fixed system. The following look at the Reed, found within Celtic folklore, will cater more to this second group.

The Trunk:

The Reed of Celtic folklore possess various Otherworldly attributes. It is usually found to be either a weapon or a musical instrument. The Reed is almost always used by spirits or fairies and not by humans.

In fact, the Reed was often a symbol of evil in folklore. As the opening quote revealed, the Reed was considered to be one of the plants that had betrayed Jesus at the time of his execution. We can only assume, then, that the Reed would possess great power in the hands of the godless.

In the case of the Cluricaune found in Thomas Crofton Crocker’s 1825 Fairy Legends and Traditions of South Ireland, the Reed was an aid to flight. The Cluricaune – who was similar to the leprechaun – would ride the Reed stalk in the same way that the stereotypical witch would ride a broom.

In the 1899 book the Prophecies of Brahan Seer by Alexander Mackenzie, the Reed begins to take on a more sinister use:

 “Some years ago, if not even still, many in the Western Isles believed in the existence of the ‘Gruagach,’ a female spectre of the class of Brownies to which the Highland dairymaids made frequent libations of milk. The Gruagach is said to have been an innocent, supernatural visitor, who frisked and gambolled about the cattle-pens and folds. She was armed only with a pliable reed, with which she switched all who annoyed her by uttering obscene language, or would neglect to leave for her a share of the dairy produce. Even so late as 1770, the dairymaids who attended a herd of cattle in the Island of Trodda, at the north end of Skye, were in the habit of pouring daily a quantity of milk on a hollow stone for the Gruagach. Should they neglect to do so, they made sure of feeling the effects of her wand the next day.”

The following Scottish lowland fairy is found in the 1870 book Fairy Mythology of Various Countries by Thomas Keightley. This fairy sounds considerably more ruthless than the Gruagach:

“They carry quivers of ‘adder-slough,’ and bows made of the ribs of a man buried where three lairds’ lands meet; their arrows are made of bog-reed, tipped with white flints, and dipped in the dew of hemlock; they ride on steeds whose hoofs would not dash the dew from the cup of a harebell. With their arrows they shoot the cattle of those who offend them; the wound is imperceptible to common eyes, but there are gifted personages who can discern and cure it.”

The snake-slough quiver holds these poison arrows constructed from Reed grass. In this case, the Reed has come to represent more than just punishment but death itself; at least to the cow.

(Vipera Berus – Common European Adder. Photo by Marek Szczepanek[v])

Not only a weapon however, the Reed is sometimes found to be connected to music. The following story predates folklore, coming instead from the age of legend. It is found within the 1900 book Celtic Folklore:  Welsh and Manx. (Vol. I ) by John Rhys[vi]. The story has many similarities with the Irish tale the King with the Horse’s Ears found in other texts[vii].

“One of Arthur’s warriors, whose name was March (or Parch) Amheirchion \ was lord of Castetlmarch in ILeyn. This man had horse’s ears (resembling Midas), and lest anybody should know it, he used to kill every man he sought to shave his beard, for fear lest he should not be able to keep the secret; and on the spot where he was wont to bury the bodies there grew reeds, one of which somebody cut to make a pipe. The pipe would give no other sound than ‘March Amheirchion has horse’s ears.’ When the warrior heard this, he would probably have killed the innocent man on that account, if he had not himself failed to make the pipe produce any other sound. But after hearing where the reed had grown, he made no further effort to conceal either the murders or his ears.”

In this tale the Reed can only produce the music of truth. The irony is, of course, that the dead are telling the one secret that they had been killed for knowing in the first place. As they say: the dead tell no lies. In this story, the Reed is connected to music and to the dead.

In the Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries by W.Y. Evans-Wentz we find another example of Reed’s connection to magical music[viii]:

“Bean chaol a chot uaine ‘s na gruaige buidhe, ‘ the slender woman of the green kirtle and of the yellow hair,’ is wise of head and deft of hand. She can convert the white water of the rill into rich red wine and the threads of the spiders into a tartan plaid. From the stalk of the fairy reed she can bring the music of the lull of the peace and of the repose, however active the brain and lithe the limb; and she can rouse to mirth and merriment, and to the dance, men and women, however dolorous their condition. From the bower could be heard the pipe and the song and the voice of laughter as the fairies ‘ sett ‘ and reeled in the mazes of the dance. Sometimes a man hearing the merry music and seeing the wonderful light within would be tempted to go in and join them, but woe to him if he omitted to leave a piece of iron at the door of the bower on entering, for the cunning fairies would close the door and the man would find no egress. There he would dance for years—but to him the years were as one day—while his wife and family mourned him as dead.”

In this case, ‘the slender woman fairy’ enjoys a wide range of possible uses for her Reed pipe. She can both “rouse” and put to sleep. With the Reed in hand, she is as powerful as the bards of old.

The Reed in folklore and mythology is a plant both respected and feared.

The Foliage:

The Reed does not seem to appear directly, as an herb, within any of the traditional folkloric spells. It can be used, however, in any binding or braiding spell. The Reed is also associated with music.

The following passage is from Lady Wilde’s 1887 text Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland:

“Before an accident happens to a boat, or a death by drowning, low music is often heard, as if under the water, along with harmonious lamentations, and then every one in the boat knows that some young man or beautiful young girl is wanted by the fairies, and is doomed to die. The best safeguard is to have music and singing in the boat, for the fairies are so enamoured of the mortal voices and music that they forget to weave the spell till the fatal moment has passed, and then all in the boat are safe from harm.”

In this instance, music is a means of repelling the negative magic of the fairy kingdom. It does not seem to matter, either, what type of music it is, or even if its good music at all. The key is, simply, to make music in order to survive.

Although there does not seem to be any Celtic spells regarding the Reed, there is one Danish spell, found in Fairy Mythologies of Various Countries, that does contain a Reed spell. In it, a nail is placed inside of a Reed which is then placed inside of a boat[ix]. This is to protect the boat from a river spirit who is called “the Neck.” The Neck can often be seen singing and playing the harp. Like the Celtic fairies, the Neck seems to have a repulsion of iron.

The Neck has a connection to both music and water, much like the Reed itself.

 

“Frail is the reed, of riches an emblem.”  – Red Book of Hergest (1382-1410)


[i] In its tree form.

[ii] The Tree-Calendar was a poetic argument put forward by Robert Graves within the White Goddess. Graves argued that the Ogham – in its tree form- could actually be a calendar with various trees representing each month; for example Birch for January, Rowan for February and Alder for March. Graves then put forward an argument as to why each tree represented that particular month based on observations of nature and various mythological references. Unfortunately, Graves may not have known that the Celtic New Year began at Samhain, modern Halloween, and did not begin the year at the same time as our modern calendar. The Ogham was created and used during a far earlier period. Liz and Colin Murray tried to rectify this error within the Celtic Tree Oracle by moving the trees to new months such as Birch for November. While it made more sense on one hand, as far as tradition and accuracy, all of Robert Graves’ arguments for why each tree represented each particular month were destroyed. Some neopagans do continue to promote the Tree-Calendar for various reasons.

[iii] http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/ogham.html

[iv] ibid

[vi] John Rhys gives a reference for this story as being the 1860 Brython. This text in turn gives a 1693 source.

[vii] Patrick Kennedy’s 1891 book Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts is one such example. These stories differ in that the instrument is a harp made from a tree such as a Willow instead of a Reed. There are also other differences.

[viii] This sample was actually written by Alexander Carmichael and is attributed to him in the book. The exact quote also appears word for word in the Carmina Gadelica vol. II.

[ix] Thomas Keightley. 1870.

Gort (Ivy Vine) II

“Like all evergreens, the ivy is immortality and eternal life; it is also revelry; clinging dependence; attachment; constant affection; friendship.” – J.C. Cooper (An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols. 1979)

The Roots:

The twelfth letter of the Ogham, in its tree form, is Gort the Ivy-plant. Though clearly not a tree, the Ivy has come to represent this letter of the Ogham alphabet. Ivy is listed as one of the “tree” choices within the Ogham Tract[i]. According to this text, Gort can just as likely be represented by grass, green pastures, corn, or corn fields.

Robert Ellison in Ogham: the Secret Language of the Druids reminds us that Gort does literally mean “field.” In fact, the letter has been interpreted as representing grazing fields. For this reason, there are many different interpretations as to the exact meaning of Gort as it pertains to the tree-Ogham. Ellison says that this letter represents to him “the search for yourself and inner wisdom.”

John Mathews in the Celtic Shaman states that the word-Ogham phrase “sweetest of grasses” can be interpreted, or solved, as meaning “satisfaction.”

In Celtic Wisdom Sticks, Caitlin Mathews elaborates on the meanings that are associated with Ivy, as well as to those associated with the letter Gort. She begins by reminding us that grazing fields would have been incredibly important. In almost all of the Celtic literature, a person of wealth is measured by the size of his or her herd, or ability to produce milk or grains. The cattle that were seen to be a part of this wealth would have needed fields in which to graze. The association between Gort and wealth then becomes apparent.

There are some other important characteristics that Caitlin Mathews reminds us of in Celtic Wisdom Sticks. She tells us that the Ivy’s berries are poisonous, for example. She also says that Ivy is a symbol of the feminine, while Holly is contrarily the symbol of the masculine.

In Caitlin Mathews’ system of divination, the letter Gort does have a common association with wealth. In this way, she shares a similar view with the other Ogham writers already mentioned above.

Ivy can have various interpretations, though. Ivy, or Gort, can mean separate things to different students of the Ogham. This is due to the fact that we are actually dealing with two separate concepts; or so it would seem.

The Trunk:

For the time being, for clarity’s sake, we will view the letter Gort and the Ivy plant as two distinctive and separate things. In order to examine the Ivy plant more closely, we need to remove the established associations for Gort, as far as “field or corn” for example, from this equation. Once we understand the Ivy plant more clearly, then we can look at Gort with clearer eyes.

The reason that there is so much confusion is that some of the users of Ogham are interpreting the meaning of “field” or “pasture” when they are speaking of Ivy. Others, contrastingly, seem to be talking about the Ivy plant itself, ignoring the references to fields and pastures. As a result, interpretations usually become somewhat hybrid-like and are a combination of the two fields of view.

Instead of drawing a line down the middle and trying to explain why various interpretations do exist, and where they came from in certain cases, I will instead focus exclusively on what the Ivy plant represents within Celtic literature. If it seems to the fellow Ogham enthusiast that I am leaving out much of what this Ogham letter has come to represent, then this is the reason. I believe that by understanding Ivy (which is clearly what Ogham users now equate Gort to) in its cultural context, that we will then be able to view this letter with a little more clarity.

If this need for distinction isn’t confusing enough, the Ivy plant that does appear within Celtic literature seems to possess two different faces as well. On the one hand, it is often associated with poverty, decay, and ruin. The Ivy, somewhat contradictive, can also be found within folklore to be a powerful magical herb.

Ivy representing decay and poverty does make sense. The vine is quick to claim abandoned ruins and gardens, it is abundant and often invasive, has been known to kill trees that it grows upon, and seems emblematic in stories of hauntings.

The following is taken from Wirt Sikes’ 1881 classic British Goblins[ii] for example:

“There is a Glamorganshire goblin called the Green Lady of Caerphilly, the colour of whose dress is indicated by her title. She haunts the ruin of Caerphilly Castle at night, wearing a green robe, and has the power of turning herself into ivy and mingling with the ivy growing on the wall.”

I have already discussed, previously[iii], how Ivy is often found in ruins covering doorways to the fairy kingdom. In this previous post, I questioned whether or not the appearance of Ivy in certain places might indicate a type of magical power instead of just being descriptive filler within the story? Perhaps, I wondered, the Ivy plant was a bridge to the Otherworld, similar to the Hawthorne tree? Regardless of what the answer to this question might be, it is undeniable that Ivy is mentioned as being found in abandoned sites in several stories.

Ivy’s connection to poverty and ruin is not always in relation to actual ruins, however. Sometimes Ivy is directly related to the loss of money. In the 1914 text Irish Witchcraft and Demonology, John Seymour tells us of one man’s encounter with a fairy that left him in a state of poverty. This man, of humble means, sold his horse – at a tough bargain one might add – to a stranger upon the side of the road. Upon returning home, he discovered that this “gold” had turned into Ivy leaves! At that moment he then knew that it had been a fairy that had tricked him and not a man at all.

This is not a particularly unique tale either. In the1911 text Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries, W.Y. Evans-Wentz relates a similar type of occurrence:

“The peasantry in the Lough Gur region commonly speak of the Good People, or of the Kind People, or of the Little People, their names for the fairies. The leprechaun indicates the place where hidden treasure is to be found. If the person to whom he reveals such a secret makes it known to a second person, the first person dies, or else no money is found : in some cases the money is changed into ivy leaves or into furze blossoms.”

It would seem then that Ivy can represent the actual loss of wealth. Why wouldn’t the money have simply disappeared, though? Why did it have to be replaced with Ivy (or Furz)?

In the case of the horse, it would seem that the fairy initially gave something to the man that did physically exist. He gave him Ivy, instead of the money, to deceive him. There was clearly an illusion upon the Ivy leaves. In this first example, the Ivy had been an unwitting, or witting, ally in a deception designed to separate the man from his horse.

In the second example, the money seems to have actually transformed into the leaves and lost its value only because a condition was not met. By the nature of the second story, the Ivy should have always remained as wealth as long as the secret was never shared. In this case, the handsome prince – the wealth- is turned into a frog; or Ivy.

In either case the message is clear. Gold or money has wealth. Ivy is practically worthless. After all, its leaves were, and still are, incredibly commonplace.

(Cadw. Caerphilly Castle[iv])

Ivy does not always represent poverty or ruin, though. As a plant of power, Ivy can not easily be dismissed within the folklore. The previously mentioned stories may be merely relaying how worthless the currency had become, and not have anything do with Ivy’s magical powers at all. That does not mean that in the right hands these leaves would not perhaps possess great power. Perhaps, like many of the other great Celtic stories, there are multiple meanings at play? The horse owner loses both his horse and his gold, for example, and yet unwittingly holds in his hand great power or a symbol that does not now seem very clear to us.

Regardless of these possible hidden meanings, Ivy does have associations to poverty and ruin. This is only half of the story of Ivy however. As already mentioned, Ivy can be a powerful force as well.

Ivy is also found in the stories to be one of the fairy herbs of “great value and power.” As one of these power herbs, Ivy is listed alongside vervain, eyebright, groundsel, foxglove, the bark of the elder tree and the young shoots of the hawthorn[v].

In the previous Gort post, I shared the story of the Fairy Dance found in Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland, by Lady Wilde which originally published in 1887. In this story, a girl is protected from harm by some Ivy that was received from a friendly fairy. Although it is unclear as to what would have happened to her without this protection, it does become obvious that the other fairies in the story wish her harm. The Ivy protects her and the girl escapes.

Ivy’s protective properties are spoken of in various other texts as well.  In the Carmina Gadelica vol. II, for example, we are informed that Ivy was sacred to the Celts and had various uses. It was “protective” of milk, dairy products, herds, flocks, and was used by lovers as “an emblem of fidelity.” Ivy was also used in conjunction with Rowan and bramble for protection against witches and evil spirits[vi].

In Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland published in 1825, Thomas Crofton Croker describes a separate ceremony that seems to further shed some light onto the mysterious powers of the Ivy plant:

“On the east coast of Scotland, the people resort to a peculiar method to avert the danger. During the month of March, when the moon is on her increase, they cut down branches of oak and ivy, which are formed into garlands, and preserved till the following autumn. If any one of the family should grow lean, or a child pine away, they must pass three times through this wreath.”

As a final example to illustrate the Ivy’s value as a magical plant, there is also a story found in J.F. Campbell’s 1890 text Popular Tales of the West Highlands vol. IV:

“A boy, some hundreds of miles away, told me that there was a man who built a house, and as often as it was built it was burned down; but they told him to put a bit of ivy into it[vii], and he did that, and the house was not burned that time.”

While one can easily note that the passage is relaying second hand information, it does illustrate once more the powers that were believed to be possessed by the Ivy plant. In this case Ivy protects the house from fire.

In Celtic folklore Ivy represented poverty and ruin, but was also an herb of great power.

The Foliage:

According to Robert Ellison, because of Ivy’s “tenacity to cling to walls,” it is a perfect component in binding and friendship spells.

Ivy was more than just a magical herb, however. It is sometimes mentioned as a means of divination as well. In Traditions and Hearthside Stories of West Cornwall published in 1870, William Bottrell tells us that Ivy was used by girls to scry into the future. This was a means by which they could discover the identity of their future husbands.

In the 1891 book Folklore of the Isle of Man, A.W. Moore gives a more specific example of divination using Ivy leaves.

“On the eve of new year’s day,” which was originally October 31st, Ivy leaves were put into a bowl to predict the coming year. There would only be one Ivy leaf in the bowl for every member of the family. Each of these leaves would be marked with a symbol or the name and each represented a separate individual. The leaves were then left in the bowl overnight. In the morning, if a leaf was found to have become withered, it would mean that person was going to die that year.

The Ivy plant could also see into the future.

 

“He staggered on under the weight of the corpse until he reached Kiltown Abbey, a ruin festooned with ivy, where the brown owl hooted all night long, and the forgotten dead slept around the walls under dense, matted tangles of brambles and ben-weed.” – W.B. Yeats (Fairy and Folktales of the Irish Peasantry. 1888)

[i] http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/ogham.html

[ii] “Despite the title, this book is actually a study of Welsh fairy folklore.” Sacred-Texts.com

[v] Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland. Lady Wilde. This does not appear in the 1887 edition.

[vi] Alexander Carmichael. 1900.

[vii] It is not clear in the text who “they” are. The passage most likely refers to the fairies, but could have also been referring to the neighbours.

Muin (Grape Vine) II

“It was a very big place and very grand, and a long table set out, but I didn’t want to stop there and I began crying to go home. And she touched me here in the breast with her stick, she was vexed to see me wanting to go away. They never brought me away since. Grand food they’d offer me and wine, but I never would touch it, and sometimes I’d have to give the breast to a child.” – Mrs. Sheridan as told to Lady Gregory (Visions and Beliefs in the West of Ireland, 1920)

The Roots:

The eleventh letter of the tree-Ogham is Muin, the Grape vine.

As previously established, the Grape was likely a later addition to the Ogham. The Grape vine does not grow naturally in Ireland and is difficult to cultivate. Muin also does not mean Grape or Vine literally.  Most Ogham users now equate Muin to the Grape vine, however.

Robert Ellison states in Ogham: the Secret Language of the Druids that “the vine” was a general description for the letter. He does equate the letter to the Grape and to wine, however. Ellison believes that Muin represents “prophecy and inhibitions; or the lack of them.”

John Mathews interprets Muin’s word-Ogham within the Celtic Shaman. He equates the phrase “strongest of efforts” to simply being “effort.”

Caitlin Mathews’ divination system Ogham Wisdom Sticks leaves much more for us to interpret. Within her system, however, the common thread of meaning seems to be ‘a lessening of a load’ or burden. This interpretation is likely also taken from the word-Oghams[i].

The Grape does not appear very often within Celtic myth or legend. Wine, which was brought to the Isles by the Romans, on the other hand has a place. It does appear occasionally.

Muin is the first letter found within the tree-Ogham that is not a tree at all.

The Trunk:

Wine has a strong connection to the Otherworld and to the Tuatha De Danaan directly. Wine, in Celtic myth, is also related to things that fly, such as birds or insects. In the time of the Celts, wine would have also demonstrated wealth and status as it was imported.

In Cuchulain of Muirthemne, by Lady Gregory, we are told that Cuchulain was given a “gold cup full of wine.” The inside of the cup had a “bird of precious stones” at the bottom. The wine here is listed as a part of the gift, illustrating its worth.

Within the same text, we learn that Cuchulain’s mother, Dechtire, had the course of her life altered when she drank a cup of wine.

One day the god Lugh turned himself into a mayfly and landed in Dechtire’s cup of wine. Unaware, she drank the wine and fell into a very deep sleep.  This all turned out to be part of Lugh’s plan to steal her. Dechtire and her 50 handmaidens were then turned into a flock of birds and ordered to follow Lugh. When Dechtire is finally recovered, after a year’s period of time, she has a small boy with her. This turns out to be the great hero Cuchulain, son of Lugh.

There’s a likelihood it was the fly that impregnated Dechtire, due to the similarities between this tale and another Irish story. In Gods and Fighting Men, also by Lady Gregory, it is Etain who is turned into a fly by her husband’s other wife:

“And she turned her with Druid spells into a fly, and then she sent a blast of wind into the house, that swept her away through the window […] and for seven years Etain was blown to and fro through Ireland in great misery. And at last she came to the house of Etar, of Inver Cechmaine, where there was a feast going on, and she fell from a beam of the roof into the golden cup that was beside Etar’s wife. And Etar’s wife drank her down with the wine, and at the end of nine months she was born again as Etar’s daughter.”

There is a magical horn found within the same book. The horn is part of a dowry given by the Tuatha De Danaan to three brothers who wanted to join them. The horn was a gift from “a young man of the Tuatha De Danaan[ii].” The item has the power to turn salt water into wine.

Found within the Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries by W.Y. Evans-Wentz are two more incidents in which water is turned into wine; suggesting more than a passing theme.

(Last Supper by Pascal Adolphe Dagnan-Bouveret’s)

As the Tuatha De Danaan eventually became the fairies of folklore many things changed. Some things, however,  remained the same. The fairies were said to value wine, for instance.

The Cluricaune found within Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland is one such example[iii]. He is a fairy-spirit similar to, or synonymous with, the leprechaun. The Claircaune is a spirit that likes to play tricks. He also likes to raid cellars and steals wine.

Similar stories concerning fairies stealing wine are found elsewhere. One such example can be found within Visions and Beliefs in the West of Ireland which is also by Lady Gregory. It is here that we also find an example regarding the offering of wine to the fairies:

“There was a room at Crags where things used to be thrown about, and everyone could hear the noises there. They had a right to clear it out and settle it the way they’d like it. You should do that in your own big house. Set a little room for them —with spring water in it always—and wine you might leave—no, not flowers—they wouldn’t want so much as that—but just what would show your good will.” – Mr. Saggerton as told to Lady Gregory.

Although wine is also used to describe things that are both sweet and beautiful it can have a darker side. There is an interesting story, for example, pertaining to Cuchulain in Myths and Legends of the Celtic Race by T.W. Rolleston:

“Then he bade farewell to his mother Dectera, and she gave him a goblet of wine to drink, but ere he could drink it the wine turned to blood, and he flung it away, saying, ” My life’s end is near ; this time I shall not return alive from the battle.” And Dectera and Cathbad besought him to await the coming of Conall of the Victories, who was away on a journey, but he would not.”

Within the Celtic stories it would seem that water can become wine, and wine can become blood. Water has often been described over the ages as being the life giving blood carrying arteries of the Earth.

Perhaps there is a connection there as well.

The Foliage:

The most famous use of wine in ritual occurs within the rite of the Eucharist, or Communion. This ritual is performed within many branches of Christianity. It consists of kneeling before a priest and receiving small portions of wine and bread. The ritual honours the mortality of Jesus Christ; the ancestor who was also a god.

Within the rite of Communion, wine becomes representative of the blood of the Christ. Bread, or a cracker, will be used to represent his body. The ritual is usually observed as a form of worship or to receive a blessing from a priest. The rite of Communion uses these symbolic stand-ins instead of actual blood or flesh taken from his dead body. In this way the ritual can continue to be performed indefinitely; even without an actual body.

Blood-drinking and flesh eating were not uncommon practices amongst various pagan peoples[iv]. This drinking the blood of the dead was a practice that may seem strange to us, but that actually existed amongst the Celts. It was a way for them to honour the dead.

“The following occurs in a song composed by ‘ Nic Coiseam ‘ to her fosterson, ‘Mac Iain ‘ic Sheumais,’ the famous warrior-poet of the Macdonalds, after the battle of Carnish in iCOl – The blood of thy fragrant body was soaked through thy linen. I myself was sucking it until my breath became hoarse. I stanched thy wounds, and they all too numerous, and I drank thy red blood, more sweet to me than wine.”  – Alexander Carmicheal (Carmina Gadelica vol.  II)

Wine can be used in ritual[v], or left as an offering.

 

“It is now easy to understand why a savage should desire to partake of the flesh of an animal or man whom he regards as divine. By eating the body of the god he shares in the god’s attributes and powers. And when the god is a corn-god, the corn is his proper body; when he is a vine-god, the juice of the grape is his blood; and so by eating the bread and drinking the wine the worshipper partakes of the real body and blood of his god. Thus the drinking of wine in the rites of a vine-god like Dionysus is not an act of revelry, it is a solemn sacrament.”– Sir James Fraser  (the Golden Bough)


[i] http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/ogham.html

[ii] Lugh?

[iii] Thomas Crofton Croker, 1825.

[iv] James Fraser. The Golden Bough.

[v] Also found within the Carmina Gadelica is a reference to wine that may be of interest in the context of ritual. The text states that water is feminine and wine is masculine; that moonlight is feminine and sunlight is masculine. What could this symbolise in a ‘water to wine’ context?

Coll (Hazel) II

“Another form of divination was called coelbrini or ‘omen sticks’ in which the Druids used sticks, in some cases wands of hazel inscribed with Ogham, which were cast upon the ground, their fall then being interpreted.” – Peter Berresford Ellis (The Druids)

The Roots:

The ninth letter of the Ogham, in its tree form, is the Hazel.

Caitlin Mathews in Celtic Wisdom Sticks says that the Hazel is associated with wisdom. This is generally a universal interpretation for the tree as discussed previously.

Caitlin Mathews also assigns Hazel some divinatory interpretations within the system found in her book. The Hazel, it would seem, is also related to peace.

Robert Ellison speaks of the Hazel’s many magical uses within Ogham: the Secret Language of the Druids. The Hazel, he informs us, can be used for shapeshifting, protection, or to have wishes granted. Ellison also relates Hazel to wisdom. He adds intuition as well.

In the Celtic Shaman we are told by John Mathews that the word Ogham – kennings – say that Hazel is “the fairest of trees.” He equates this poetic phrase with beauty.

The Hazel, or Coll, is often associated with wisdom. This interpretation refers to the nuts of the magical Hazel tree, as well as to their direct, or indirect, ingestion resulting in wisdom.

In the previous post regarding Hazel we discussed this topic in detail. This time, we will focus instead on the wood of the Hazel tree itself instead of on the nuts.

While the nuts of the Hazel that are found in legend have properties of wisdom, the wood of the tree itself is associated with peace. Some might claim that this wood has shapeshifting properties as well.

The Trunk:

The white Hazel staff, or wand, is a symbol of peace.

Found within the Tain are references to the herald of a king bearing a staff of white Hazel[i]. This herald is seen as a non-combatant simply because he carries the Hazel.

In the Celtic Tradition by Caitlin Mathews we are also told that the Hazel signifies peace:

“Samhain was a feast of peace and friendship, during which no weapon was lifted. Midir advises Oengus to approach Elcmar on this day, since Elcmar will be carrying only a staff of white hazel, signifying peaceful intention.”

Within Joseph Dunn’s translation of the Tain we find that Cuchulain was forced to fight and kill three enemies at the same time. This was normal enough for him, but he was also forced to fight their three charioteers! Charioteers were usually seen as non-combatants, like heralds, in war. These charioteers not only attacked Cuchulain, however, – making it six on one – but their weapons of choice were staffs of Hazel.

The story found in the Tain seems to indicate that not only did Cuchulain continue to fight against impossible odds, but that his enemies refused to honour the Celtic customs of combat and etiquette practiced at the time.

Furthermore, this symbol of peace may have had a more significant meaning than we realize during the testing of the Fianna. These Fianna were the High King of Ireland’s elite soldiers and they were under the command of Finn. The selection process for the Fianna was arduous. One of the tests that prospective Fianna had to pass involved the wood of the Hazel both directly and, possibly, indirectly.

During one of the tests the Fianna prospect was buried in a pit up to his waste. He was then given a Hazel “stick” and a shield. 9 spears were then cast at the young recruit. None of them could hit him or mark him in any way.

If we see the Hazel as a symbol of peace then the message seems clear. Despite being a warrior, one should also be able to wield the weapons of peace.

There is another link to the Hazel found within the tale as well. This connection is much more indirect and its meaning can only be contemplated.

It was Balor, the one-eyed, whose head was cut off and hung from a Hazel tree by Lugh. The head dripped poison into the ground and the roots of the tree soaked the liquid up. After some time, the god Manannan saw the tree and had it taken down so that he could have a shield made from it.

Taking the tree down turned out to be costly. The poison was so great that many of Manannan’s men were killed (two sets on nine[ii]) while many more (nine as well) were struck blind[iii]. A shield for the god was crafted from the wood. Manannan’s magical shield would eventually become the inheritance of Finn.

If we consider that the Fianna undergoing these tests were emulating Finn himself, then the significance of the shield may also bear reflection. The shield used during the trials could have also been made from, or have represented, the Hazel as well.

What this would mean, though, may not be so clear. Instead of promoting peace or wisdom this item seemed to give only death.

As Robert Ellison noted the Hazel can also be associated with shape changing. This statement seems to initially be a comparison between the shape-shifting Taliesin and his Irish counterpart Finn. While Finn ate the salmon that had ingested the nuts, Taliesin only ingested a few drops of the content from a cauldron. The similarities between the two stories are apparent. The story of Taliesin never directly mentions the Hazel nut, though. Finn does not seem to have the same power to shape shift on command. The stories may have a slight apple to oranges feel to them when they are compared directly.

There is another story that may solidify the shape shifting argument, however. This is also a story involving Finn. It can be found in Myths and Legends of the Celtic Race by T.W. Rolleston, Gods and Fighting Men by Lady Gregory, and in other places as well. This is the story involving the Dark Druid.

While the story is actually somewhat lengthy, the facts regarding the Hazel may easily be summed up. The “Dark Druid” is obsessed with Finn’s wife Sadbh. To steal her the druid – who sometimes seems to have possessed her in the first place – strikes Sadbh with his wand. Not only does she turn into a deer, but she’s forced to follow him as the holder of the wand. Sadbh becomes lost to Finn forever.

While the Hazel nut may give its consumer the power to shift forms, the wielder of the Hazel wand seems to be able to shift the forms of others. While the information seems scarce regarding this matter, the prospect is not entirely unlikely. Hazel seems to be linked to shape shifting.

The Hazel is also given a very high place in Irish mythology. It seems to be one of the three great treasures of the Irish landscape in at least one tale.

When Amergin meets the three women of the Tuatha De Danaan he is given their names and the names of their husbands[iv]. One of the husbands is named ‘Son of the Plough,’ another of the husbands is named ‘Son of the Sun,’ and the final husband is named ‘Son of the Hazel[v].’

Thus the women were married to the sons of abundance. In the harsh and often tumultuous lives of the Celts the symbolism would have been apparent.

Ireland was a land of fertility and of peace.

The Foliage:

Jacqueline Memory Paterson shares an interesting spell that uses Hazel in Tree Wisdom: the Definitive Guidebook. Paterson states the following to be a seventeenth century spell used to see “faeries.”

One must first gather some wild thyme from the side of a hill where “fairies still live.” Mix a half litre (pint) of salad oil with rose and marigold water (these flowers should be picked from the east). Shake the mixture until it is white. Put the liquid into a glass container.

Now add the wild thyme, buds of hollyhocks, marigold flowers, and the buds of young hazels. Finally, add the grass of a fairy throne (tussock). Allow all of the ingredients to dissolve for three days in the sun.

The concoction can be stored and used when it is needed. Paterson says that this can either be used by, “anointing the body and/or ingesting.”

 

“The nuts would fall into the water, causing bubbles of mystic inspiration to form, or were eaten by salmon. The number of spots on a salmon’s back were thought to indicate the number of nuts it had consumed.” – James MacKillop (Oxford Dictionary of Celtic Mythology)


[i] Joseph Dunn, Lady Gregory, etc.

[ii] Coll is also associated with the number nine. This would have been an important number to the triad obsessed Celts. The number nine is composed of three threes.

[iii] Lady Gregory. Gods and Fighting Men.

[iv] Ibid.

[v] Not necessarily in this order.

* image at top of post is from superstock.com

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