Experience the sacredness held within the voice and tradition of Irish oral storytelling. Enjoy at your leisure - maybe curled up with a warm cuppa tea or held within the wild embrace of the magical natural world that surrounds you.
Mo ghrá go léir / All my love,
Erica
She is here. Samhain season.
Can you hear her? Oíche Shamhna knocks upon your door.
With her she brings colourful leaves, chills in the breeze, and promises of rest within the breast of winter.
I breathe a sigh of relief upon her arrival. A lot can happen in a year and it’s easy to find myself caught in the swirling currents of ‘to-dos’ and reaching for dreams while navigating the realities of modern living.
However, I can feel my body and heart redress when November arrives. My spirit relishes in her slower pace. And with her gifts of shorter days, it’s easier for me to set aside the ‘hustle’ in exchange for: not now. Not today. Time for rest.
Growing up, I recall having a sense that something was missing during the month of November - but it wasn’t a holiday or a day off from school. Today, as I return to the stories of my Irish bones, I wonder if my childhood-self felt the familiarity of this mystical and sacred time of year? And that maybe, she just didn’t have the verbiage for what she felt, yet.
So, as the littles anticipate an evening of outdoor adventures filled with tricks or treats, I wanted to gift you a new tale for our Stories of Samhain series, in honour and reverence of Ireland’s Otherworldly death messenger - an bean sídhe.
“Banshee is an anglicisation of the Irish words, bean meaning ‘woman’, and sídhe meaning of the hollow hills, fairy mounds, or Otherworldly dwelling. Sídhe is also a word used to describe the goddesses and gods, and the fairies themselves, as the supernatural and their dwelling place in the land are inseparable in the Irish tradition. The land can open up to reveal all kinds of mystical realms, what we call the Otherworld. And so, banshee essentially means ‘woman of the Otherworld’, or ‘fairywoman’... You don’t take her comb, you don’t take anything from her, because us mortals are never to extract from the Otherworld. We must live in respect and reciprocity. The banshee knows her role, do we know ours?” — Jennifer Murphy, The Banshee: Psychopompal Death Messenger
For with her winds of change, November brings the veil between the worlds closer, blurring boundaries between the living and the dead, and we find ourselves in a season where many an Irish folktale offers the reminder to be smart and not wander about after dark.
And maybe, had Thomas O’Malley heeded all of his grandmother’s warnings, I’d be sharing a different story …
“... the Imprint of the Banshee’s Five Fingers teaches the necessity for caution in dealing with supernatural beings and warns against being out late hours and indecorous behaviour towards women. The latter lesson is perhaps more firmly impressed… Young men who accost women at night out to beware — what is there may not be a human woman but a banshee!” — Dr. Patricia Lysaght, “The Banshee: The Irish Death Messenger”. p. 185.
So, with that.
Rachaimis ar thuras le chéile.
Let’s take a journey together.
Being of Irish and French ancestry, I continue to be reverently grateful to the traditional spirits and keepers of the land [past, present, and forth-coming] of the unceded and unsurrendered territory of the Algonquin Anishinabeg People; where I was born and currently reside.
Culture, language, and stories run within the rivers and are held within the stones of landscapes. Míle buíochas, a thousand thanks, for the opportunity to share stories alongside you.
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Buíochas ó chroí / Heartfelt thanks,
Erica
