Séan's Special Gift.

This is a story that may bring a tear to your eye, it’s a lovely tale about the love of two people. It’s called

Sean's Special Gift.

Can you remember the most meaningful present you’ve ever given to someone? It doesn’t have to cost the earth or be something flashy. It’s the joy of giving a gift to someone that really shows the thought that you’ve put into it and that’s what makes them so important. Here is a story about one such gift; I hope it reminds you of that special moment and how it may relate to your own Christmas story.

Sean steadied himself against the cold night wind, holding tight to his silver topped walking stick he stared at all the beautiful things in the shop windows on Bridge Street,

“What do I get for her” he said to himself. He only needed one present but it had to be perfect and time was running out.

Snowflakes began to fall and people walked by some loaded up with bags some still looking for that last minute gift. People carrying Xmas shopping and the air seemed filled with the sound of people calling out to those that they recognised

“How are ye” and “Happy Xmas”

Children with eyes wide looked in the shop windows and pulled at their parents hands “Look Mammy, Daddy” they shouted as they tugged at their sleeves dragging them away from boring stuff like dresses and jewellery and towards the more exciting windows with toys and sweets.

Sean turned around very carefully for now the street was slippy with snow and leaning on his walking stick he wandered down towards the end of Bridge Street. What wonderful things he saw, beautiful shiny objects, and the smells, Ohhh the smell was lovely, mince pies and mulled wine, turkey and ham. The air seemed alive. He pulled his scarf a little tighter and put his head down but even though he wore a wide brimmed hat the cold wind still stung his eyes and froze his cheeks. It even brought tears to his eyes, or was that the wind or something else?

Window after window Sean passed and each was filled with different things that at various times throughout his long life he had bought. A diamond ring, a wedding ring, elegant clothes, baby things, toys oh yes loads of toys especially those toys that you had to put together or those that you forgot to get batteries for.  Sean smiled as he remembered how she’d laughed and swore at him for being a complete eejit, fancy forgetting the batteries. She laughed as he tried to put the toys together and she’d bring him a cup of tea. They’d sit and talk about Christmases past and they’d nibble at the mince pie and drink the milk that the children had left for Santa and Rudolf. Then when all the work was finished they would sit in front of the fire and say a prayer to the child who had changed the world all those centuries ago, they’d pray for peace, they’d kiss and hold each other close. Yes they were the times he remembered best about this time of year, the times when they knew love best and their years were so very full.

Sean smiled and whispered to himself so that those who stood near him didn’t hear “Wonderful, wonderful times, but my present, I must find my present”

He turned and began to walk back down the other side of Bridge Street. Past Port West, Past Gavin’s, past the cafes and the smell of freshly baked cakes and pubs filled with the sound of laughter. He came to a stop at a toy shop window and looked in. He saw sail boats and dolls, games and teddy bears. He saw them all and lost himself in the ghost of Christmas past as he remembered the faraway sound of children’s laughter. Then he felt a shiver down his spine, despite his warm coat, his hat, gloves and scarf. Sean was growing colder, he was growing tired and yet still he saw nothing, nothing that stood out and said to him “Here I am, your perfect gift”

Then as if by magic he saw it, there it was tucked away in a corner of the window high up on a shelf only just visible behind the more expensive toys. Yes there it was, the perfect gift, the most perfect gift of all. Sean entered the shop bought the gift and asked the nice girl behind the counter if she would wrap it in some lovely Christmas wrapping paper. Then he went outside and seeing a taxi he hopped in.

“Where to” the taxi driver asked,

“Castlebar hospital please” Sean replied.

 

Arriving at the hospital Sean paid the driver, giving him a nice tip and they wished each other a very Happy Christmas. Sean went through the revolving doors and went to the elevator, pressing the button he went up to the women’s ward, to Mary’s room.  He opened the door and went in, took of his hat,coat, gloves and scarf and he pulled the chair close to Mary. He took her hand and held it, gently stroking it.

“Hello Mary” he said, not expecting an answer and of course none came.

Sean stared at her beauty, the rest of the world saw an old woman of 80, wrinkles, frail, white hair and swollen, gnarled, arthritic joints but not Sean. With his eyes he saw those things but not with his heart. With his heart he saw a woman who had devoted her life to him, a young woman standing on a step ladder as they decorated the baby’s room, she was giggling and had paint in her hair. He saw a woman playing with the children and comforting them when they felt ill, a woman with skin that was smooth and fresh and eyes that twinkled in the light.

He heard the soft sound of her voice as she sang their children to sleep and he heard her laughter as they played in the garden kicking autumn leaves and throwing snowballs in winter.  His heart smelled her scent mixed with the salt air as they walked along Bertra Beach, they’d seen the world with lover’s eyes and he felt the comfort of waking up next to her every day.

Yes this was Mary, the Mary that Sean saw. Not the Mary connected to life by wires and tubes.

“It’s Christmas Eve Mary” Sean said softly, “I’ve brought you a present, would you like to open it or save it for tomorrow?”

Knowing that Mary couldn’t answer Sean reached for the gift and placed it on the bed beside her. “I tell you what, why don’t we open it now. See the beautiful ribbon that the girl in the shop put on it. And didn’t she choose beautiful paper to wrap it in. It’s red and has little Santa’s on it, I picked it especially for you cause I know you like it. She did a marvellous job of wrapping it up”

With aged, trembling fingers Sean unwrapped the gift and while doing so he journeyed back in time.

“The Cow’s gone dry Mary” he shouted as he walked through the door,

“What are you going to do” answered Mary.

“We’ll have to shoot her and make beef burgers for the dinner” Laughed Sean,

“I’ll put the kettle on” replied Mary.

This was their greeting every night when Sean came in from work. How it began, they couldn’t remember. Just a bit of fun, just being young and foolish. It was funny really because they didn’t live on a farm and Sean had no idea how to milk a cow, he worked in an office. All they knew was it was a bit of fun, it was their special way, no one elses. It was their special way of saying “I Love you and it’s good to be home”

Sean pulled the last of the wrapping paper from the box in which the present sat. “Here it is Mary, give me your hand” Sean drew her hand towards him so that Mary could hold the gift. Then he placed it in her palm. It was a small, fluffy toy. A black and white cow that mooed when sqeezed. The cow lay in Mary’s limp hand, Sean reached over and squeezed the cow, “Mooo, Moooo”

In the silence of the room Sean heard a quiet, soft, muffled sound. Looking from the toy to her face he saw Mary’s eyes, open and distant. Her lips moved slightly. Sean rose from his chair in disbelief. It had been months since Mary had stirred. Gently, afraid of breaking the spell Sean leaned towards Mary. He bent down and put his ear near to her mouth and said “What my dear, what did you say”

Quietly Mary whispered “What are you going to do”

Sean had never felt such a surge of joy. Those few words from Mary’s lips. What a gift, what a gift, never had there been such a wonderful gift. Tears welled up in his eyes and fell on Mary’s cheek. Our words, our special words he thought, then choking back the tears he said,

“We’ll have to shoot her and make beef burgers for the dinner”

All that night, all that holy Christmas night, Sean waited for Mary’s response but Mary lay silent. She held her cow and she gently passed into the great beyond.

Fly Agaric

Fly Agaric.

The sacred mushroom was the red and white amanita muscaria mushroom, also known as "fly agaric." These mushrooms are now commonly seen in books of fairy tales, and are usually associated with magic and fairies. This is because they contain potent hallucinogenic compounds, and were used by ancient peoples for insight and transcendental experiences.

Most of the major elements of the modern Christmas celebration, such as Santa Claus, Christmas trees, magical reindeer and the giving of gifts, are originally based upon the traditions surrounding the harvest and consumption of these most sacred mushrooms.

The active ingredients of the amanita mushrooms are not metabolized by the body, and so they remain active in the urine. In fact, it is safer to drink the urine of one who has consumed the mushrooms than to eat the mushrooms directly, as many of the toxic compounds are processed and eliminated on the first pass through the body.

It was common practice among the shaman of ancient people such as the Sami of Finland, and the people of Siberia, to recycle the potent effects of the mushroom by drinking each other's urine. The amanita's ingredients can remain potent even after six passes through the human body. Some scholars argue that this is the origin of the phrase "to get pissed," as this urine-drinking activity preceded alcohol by thousands of years.

Reindeer were the sacred animals of these semi-nomadic people, as the reindeer provided food, shelter, clothing and other necessities. Reindeer are also fond of eating the amanita mushrooms; they will seek them out, and then prance about while under their influence. Often the urine of tripped-out reindeer would be consumed for its psychedelic effects.

This effect goes the other way too, as reindeer also enjoy the urine of a human, especially one who has consumed the mushrooms. In fact, reindeer will seek out human urine to drink, and some tribesmen carry sealskin containers of their own collected urine, which they use to attract stray reindeer back into the herd.

The effects of the amanita mushroom usually include sensations of size distortion and flying. The feeling of flying could account for the legends of flying reindeer.
Santa Claus, super shaman.

Although the modern image of Santa Claus was created at least in part by the advertising department of Coca-Cola, in truth his appearance, clothing, mannerisms and companions all mark him as the reincarnation of these ancient mushroom-gathering shamans.

Originally Santa Claus was not red and white, but was first depicted like this due to a seasonal link to native spiritual traditions involving hallucinogenic red and white mushrooms known as fly agaric. When it was time to go out and harvest the magical mushrooms, the ancient shamans would dress much like Santa, wearing red and white fur-trimmed coats and long black boots.

Later the Coca Cola Company would patent these colours and popularise the now universally accepted colours of Santa’s costume. One of the side effects of eating amanita mushrooms is that the skin and facial features take on a flushed, ruddy glow. This is why Santa is always shown with glowing red cheeks and nose. Even Santa's jolly "Ho, ho, ho!" is the euphoric laugh of one who has indulged in the magic fungus.

Sami Ceremony and Entheogenic Mushrooms.

The red and white fly agaric mushrooms also played a part in the aboriginal origins of the flying reindeer image that is now popularly associated with Christmas. These mushrooms, or plant teachers, have always been used in rituals involving the sacred reindeer by the shamans of the Sami tribal peoples, who are still practicing traditional lifestyles as nomadic reindeer herders in Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia today.

The Koryak shamans of Siberian tribes gained notoriety in the grand western narrative of discovery when their winter solstice rituals involving the fly agaric were observed and recorded by anthropologists/adventurers, giving rise to several modern Christmas myths.

At this ceremonial time, the Koryak tribe’s people would work ritually with the mushrooms in their family tents. Their shamans would also work with the mushrooms to reach a non-ordinary state of reality that allowed them to do spirit-walking.
Spirit Walkers Bringing Gifts.

Koryak spirit walkers would visit the tents of their fellow tribesmen on their flying reindeer, the reindeer being a sacred totemic being for Sami tribal peoples. Once there, they would enter the tent through the smoke hole in the roof and distribute more mushrooms as gifts. Then they would exit through the chimney hole and fly away on their reindeer beings once again.

It has been suggested that the egg-nog Christmas tradition was even grounded in these rituals, based on the practice of tribesmen drinking the agaric-spiked urine of the shamans who had ingested the mushrooms, perhaps mixed with egg and spices to disguise the taste. (Makes you think twice about mulled wine, for that matter!).

Clearly, the origins of many western Christmas traditions such as Santa’s elves, Santa coming down the chimney, gift-giving, Santa’s colours, Santa’s home base in the Arctic North, and mistletoe can all be linked to time-honoured indigenous tribal ceremonies and customary practices.

Aboriginal Christmas Reflections.

Christmas is as good a time as any to acknowledge the contributions of indigenous peoples around the planet to the formation of global knowledge, culture and innovations since the “age of discovery”. So much of the technology, food, textiles, traditions and even mathematics that formed the basis for modern western civilisation was ‘borrowed’, or synthesised, or developed in conjunction with native peoples.

So spare a thought for the planet’s fourth-world (indigenous) peoples at Christmas time, most of who are excluded from the bounty of first-world colonies built on stolen native lands, resources and knowledge. So many Aboriginal people are even excluded from basic rights like education.

Spare a thought as well that in the ‘first world civilised countries’ (I use that term loosely) every year people spend more money on Christmas presents for their pets than it would cost to educate every third-world and fourth-world person on earth who is currently denied schooling and medical aid. Think about that over your Xmas turkey.

Ho, ho, ho.


The fly agarics’ religious connections are far reaching. It is widely thought to be the “Soma” talked about in Hindu scriptures, and some also believe it to be the “Amrita” mentioned in Buddhist scriptures. Closer to home, there is a popular myth that Nordic Viking warriors used to consume fly agaric to send them into their berserker rages, although compelling evidence for this theory is hard to find.

Another theory, again difficult to substantiate, suggests that Zulu warriors consumed fly agaric before battle during the Zulu war, and that, in part, this helped them leave the field victorious during the famous “charge of the light brigade”.

In ‘civilised’ Europe its use has given rise to the ‘little people’ such as faeries and leprechauns.

Lewis Carroll was familiar with the affects of Fly agaric, in Alice in Wonderland there is a scene where a caterpillar is sitting on a mushroom (Fly agaric) smoking a pipe. Alice is in front of him at mushroom height and she nibbles on the mushroom to make herself bigger and smaller.

After Alice in Wonderland was published images of the Fly agaric appeared in much of the Victorian literature and it was also painted on children’s toys and cradles. It continues to serve as a classical symbol of enchanted forests and magical groves-the kind of places where fairies, gnomes and all sorts of strange, wonderful and sometimes frightening creatures dwell. Familiar, mysterious and magical.

WARNING:

Fly Agaric is a powerful fungus, whose effects can be extremely variable and dangerous in the hands of those who do not know what they are doing (In Irish we call them Amadán).

Self-experimentation is not recommended. In particular all amanita species with a white or greenish cap should be avoided, as these are definitely very deadly.

The information provided in this article is intended for educational purposes only and should not be used as medical advice. I do not take or share in any responsibility for any events that may occur as a result of self-experimentation.

Have a great Yule, Winter Solstice and Christmas.

Don't forget those who may not be as fortunate as you, especially in this cold weather, be them human or animal we are all part of the wheel.

Travellers or Pavee.

 

Travellers or Pavee.

Travellers used to travel in horse drawn wagons that were called barrel top or vardo wagons and before that with donkeys and tents. Now most Travellers have trailers ( caravans) and motor vehicles if they are still on the road. Traditionally Travellers burned the wagon that the person died in. In modern times many may not wish to continue to live in the trailer, the home that some nomadic families now live in, if a person dies there.

The name "Travellers" refers to a roaming Irish ethnic group. Irish Travellers are a group of people with a separate identity, culture and history, although they are as fully Irish as the rest of us. They have their own language known as ‘cant’ or ‘gammon’ and academics sometimes refer to it as ‘shelta’ and travellers will sometimes use this language to speak to each other. Irish travellers are native to Ireland and have been part of Irish society for hundreds of years and while their history is largely unrecorded they are recorded before the 12^th century.

Occupations within the travellers traditionally include tinsmithing, seasonal farm work, selling door-to-door and scrap metal recycling. Some of these jobs are becoming rarer within the community such as tinsmithing and many travellers today have diversified into other areas such as market trading and antique dealing. Some travellers have their own business such as shops and garages and others are employed in community enterprises, voluntary organisations and training centres. However, just as in the settled community there are some travellers who are unskilled and dependent on social welfare in order to survive.

As stated earlier, there is not a great deal of historical research on the Traveller way of life although there are references to various nomadic groups dating back to the 12^th and even the 5^th century. Travellers were craftsmen, entertainers, message carriers, horse traders, and provided a variety of skills. They were involved in specific economic activity throughout history that can be associated with a nomadic way of life.

As industrialisation brought new methods of communication and cheap plastic, Travellers as with other groups in Ireland began to experience a change in their role in Irish society and had to adapt their lifestyle to accommodate these changes. Under many pressures to adopt a sedentary or settled lifestyle Travellers have resisted and have proved their ability to survive and maintain their cultural identity. This identity has a number of common features, history and experiences; it has an oral tradition, and value system that sets it apart from the settled community. Travellers also have a history of having to protect that identity from the attempts made to assimilate them into the majority population.

Travellers have been largely ignored in the literature of the “Great Tradition”. Not all families originated at the same time or in the same way. Some Traveller families date back centuries while others have adopted a travelling lifestyle in relatively recent times. “Tinker” and “Tynkere” first appear as trade surnames during the 12^th century. This word comes from the word “Tinceard” which means tincraft and it suggests that at this time there was clearly a group of Travelling crafts people who made and mended pots and pans and who played an important role in Irish history. The itinerant tinsmith or “white-smith” as well as tanners, musicians, bards and artisans travelled throughout Ireland fashioning jewellery, weapons and horse trappings out of bronze, silver and gold in exchange for food and lodging. Today, Travellers are characterized by a growing solidarity and Political activism based on their own increased sense of ethnic or group identification as Travelling People.

In order to preserve their unique identity, Travellers operate within a type of social separation.  Interaction between Travellers and other Irish people is typically limited to economic exchanges and brief instrumental encounters with bureaucrats or institutional representatives such as the police, welfare, and hospital personnel. Practices of some Travellers (e.g., keeping unsightly campsites, drinking in public, aggressive selling tactics),  reinforce social distance between members of the two groups. However, prejudice and discrimination have played a larger role in segregating the two communities.

Government proposals to build official campsites for Travellers are invariably rejected by the local Community. Most people avoid any interaction with Travellers; very few would consider marrying a Traveller. Since the mid-1960s, the Irish government has attempted to solve what it labeled "the itinerant problem," that is, the existence of Traveller families living on the roadside in tents and wagons without basic amenities such as running water, toilets, and electric lights. The solution was believed to lie in settlement, in placing families on serviced government campsites and in houses from which they could send their children to school, get wage-labour jobs, and learn to live a settled life. Assimilation was the goal.

Since then, however, Travellers have become more vocal and politically aware. Political action groups have been organized in some cities. Travellers now consider themselves to be an ethnic group with the rights to maintain their own identity and life-style while enjoying the privileges of other citizens.

Many Travellers now live on sites, both council and private, some have moved into houses and many still have nowhere to camp and live on unauthorised sites constantly being moved on. Travellers have a common ancestry and one is born a Traveller. Their contribution to music and story-telling has been of great importance to these traditions. Travellers were the link between isolated communities in a rural society. They carried the music, stories and news from village to village. They also kept these traditions alive during the oppression of the British, who tried to destroy Irish Culture. Travellers were more difficult to restrict as they were moving from place to place and contributed in no small way to the fight for Irish independence.

 Travellers also served with great courage during the war (Great Emergency) and two traveller men were awarded the Victoria Cross the highest medal for bravery. Many traveller women acted as medics, air raid wardens and were members of the auxiliary services. T

hey have been subject to oppression and discrimination and have often hidden their identity to avoid discrimination, especially if they have moved into housing. Travellers have the same rights as the majority population and now have protection under the Race Relations Act in Ireland as a recognised ethnic minority community.

                 Escape of The Gingerbread Man.  A tale about a storyteller in the west of Ireland.

I don't normally post video clips but I found this very moving and thought I'd share it with you.  Hope you like it. 

 

The History of Irish Soda Bread.

If you thought that soda bread was Irish then you would be wrong. It appears that honour belongs to the First Nation Indians on the American continent who used soda ash in baking their bread. Now we have made it our own and it has become known as Irish Soda Bread. This turn of events was brought about by poverty for the use of soft wheat flour and bicarbonate of soda was ideal for making what was then known as ‘Quick bread’ getting it to the table a lot faster than yeast based bread. In1908 2/3rds of the flour used in Ireland was soft wheat from the U.S. 90% of the flour used in Belfast and 80% of the flour used in Dublin was soft wheat

In 1850 it was reported that during the failure of the potato a large amount of bicarbonate of soda was used by the poor in the preparation of bread. This resulted in a shortage of bicarbonate of soda and unscrupulous dealers rose their prices accordingly. Crooked dealers also sold substitutes for bicarbonate of soda that caused many deaths.

In 1835 pre-packed ‘Royal Baking Powder’ was introduced. This combined bicarbonate of soda with cream of tartar to create the acid/alkali combination resulting in the release of carbon dioxide gas this in turn causes the bread to rise. It was introduced in baking around 1840, how it was first introduced is still unsure.

Sour milk was used in the making of soda bread in Ireland in the early years, a great way of using up something that would be normally thrown out.  However, buttermilk is used today. If you wish you can now buy a buttermilk powder that you just add to water.

Before baking your loaf, cut a cross on the top with a sharp knife. This is said to ward off the devil and protect the household , in reality it allows the bread to heat right through.  The shape of the loaf can differ depending on where you live. In the Southern part of Ireland it is shaped and baked as a round loaf with the cross marked on the top. In the Northern part of the Island it is flattened into a round disc and then divided into four equal triangular shapes. Each is then cooked on a flat griddle.

Bread making formed an important part of daily life within an Irish household. Most families lived in isolated farmhouses and with kitchens that had an open fireplace and no oven. Bread was baked on griddles or three legged black iron pots (Dutch ovens), hung on a crane over a turf fire. Due to the fact that the pot had three legs you could place it directly onto the hot embers, place a few hot embers onto its lid and here it would bake. You ended up with a lovely loaf that was tender and dense with a hard crust and a sour, tangy taste.

In our house n south Mayo soda bread was called farl, (pronounced farel).  The word derives from the Gaelic Fardel which literally means ‘four parts’ and this refers to the way you cut the cross into the top and when the bread is cut into four quarters when baked.

When the bread has been cooked it is wrapped in a clean tea towel until it has cooled down and this keeps the crust soft. Unless of course you eat it straight away. All that’s left to add is fresh butter, jam, and a nice mug of tea. On a cold spring equinox day like today, freezing wind and biting cold rain. A nice slice of farl with a hot mug of tea is just right. Keep smiling and don't forget the jam.

Source:www.sodabread.info/sodabreadhistory

 

The legend of the Snowdrop.

Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden of Eden, a place where the sun shone every day, where they were warm and happy and had everything they could possibly wish for or want.  Unfortunately for them it was winter when they landed on earth, heavy rain, cold winds and dark grey skies. Eve spent every moment shivering, something she had never experienced before, she never needed to wear clothes, she didn’t even know what clothes were.  It was so cold that she felt as if her blood was beginning to freeze, and then the snow began to fall.  

At first the snow looked so pretty but that soon wore off, the blizzards made her eyes sting, her face hurt, her fingers were going numb and her body began to freeze.  Eve fell into a deep despair, would this cold never end, would she ever feel the warmth of the sun upon her face, would she ever feel warm again? She fell to her knees and began to cry. 

God hadn’t abandoned Adam and Eve completely, he had sent an angel to watch over them Upon seeing Eve kneeling in the snow in a state of deep despair sobbing her eyes out the angel asked her why she was so sad.  Eve told the angel that she despaired of ever feeling warm again, she had given up hope of ever seeing the sun, of ever being happy.  

The angel reached down and picked up a snowflake, gently she breathed on it and let it fall back to the frozen ground.  Every time she did this the snowflake turned into a small flower as white as the snow upon which it fell until Eve was surrounded by a carpet of small pure white flowers. 

“Why have you done this for me?” asked Eve,

The angel replied “To show you that winter will end, the flowers will bloom again and the sun will shine. This gift I give you is the gift of Hope”.

The flowers that the angel made became known as Snowdrop and they give us hope of a new spring, a new beginning, and new life.

So never give up for the sun will shine again tomorrow.

Keep smiling.

SilentOwl.

Love you forever.

A mother held her new baby and very slowly rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she held him, she sang:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.

The baby grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was two years old, and he ran all around the house. He pulled all the books off the shelves. He pulled all the food out of the refrigerator and he took his mother's watch and flushed it down the toilet. Sometimes his mother would say, "This child is driving me MAD!"

At night time, when that two-year-old was quiet, she opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor, looked up over the side of his bed; and if he was really asleep she picked him up and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. While she rocked him she sang:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.

The little boy grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was nine years old.  He never wanted to come in for dinner, he never wanted to take a bath, and when grandma visited he always said bad words. Sometimes his mother wanted to sell him to the zoo!

But at night time, when he was asleep, the mother quietly opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor and looked up over the side of the bed. If he was really asleep, she picked up that nine-year-old boy and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she rocked him she sang:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.

The boy grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was a teenager. He had strange friends and he wore strange clothes and he listened to strange music. Sometimes the mother felt like she was in a zoo!

But at night time, when that teenager was asleep, the mother opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor and looked up over the side of the bed. If he was really asleep she picked up that great big boy and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. While she rocked him she sang:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.

That teenager grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was a grown-up man. He left home and got a house across town. But sometimes on dark nights the mother got into her car and drove across town. If all the lights in her son's house were out, she opened his bedroom window, crawled across the floor, and looked up over the side of his bed. If that great big man was really asleep she picked him up and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she rocked him she sang:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.

Well, that mother, she got older. She got older and older and older. One day she called up her son and said, "You'd better come see me because I'm very old and sick." So her son came to see her. When he came in the door she tried to sing the song. She sang:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always...

But she couldn't finish because she was too old and sick. The son went to his mother. He picked her up and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And he sang this song:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my Mother you'll be.

When the son came home that night, he stood for a long time at the top of the stairs. Then he went into the room where his very new baby daughter was sleeping. He picked her up in his arms and very slowly rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while he rocked her he sang:

I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always,
As long as I'm living
my baby you'll be.

From book by Robert Munsch. I recommend his books. http://www.robertmunsch.com

This shows that love can be displayed in many different ways. Here it is the mother's love for a child.

Keep Smiling and Happy Valentine's Day.

SilentOwl.

Timeless Love.

Once upon a time, long, long ago. When the world was full of wonder.

All the feelings and emotions in the world lived on a small Island: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge and all the others, including Love.  One day the elders gathered them all together and told them that the Island was going to sink and so they must all build boats and leave.  All obeyed, all that is except for Love. Love wanted to wait until the last possible moment.

When the Island had almost sunk into the sea, Love decided to ask for help.  Richness was passing in a boat so love called out to him,

“Richness, can you take me with you?”

“Sorry Love, I cannot. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat and there is no place here for you” answered Richness.

Love next asked Vanity who was sailing by in her boat.  However, Vanity was also unwilling to help her

.

“I cannot help you, Love, You are all wet and might damage my pretty paintwork” said Vanity.

Next to pass by was Sadness. Love called out to Sadness,

“Sadness, take me with you”

“I cannot help you, I am so sad that I just want to be by myself” replied Sadness.

Happiness, loneliness, fear, anger, all passed by each unwilling to help. Each had their own problems.

Suddenly there was a voice,

“Come, Love, I will take you”

It was one of the elders. An overjoyed Love jumped into the boat. She was so happy that she completely forgot to ask where they were going.  Eventually they all arrived at dry land. The elder went on her way leaving Love to decide on where she wished to go.

Love, realising how much she owed to the elder asked Knowledge, one of the other elders,

“Who was that elder who helped me”?

“It was Time” answered Knowledge,

“Time?” thought Love. “Why would Time help me?”

Knowledge saw the look of puzzlement upon Love’s face smiled and said,

“Time helped you because only Time is capable of understanding how valuable Love is”

Ever since then that is the way it has been and now the story is yours.

Keep smiling and Happy Valentine's Day.

SilentOwl.

Heuston Station.

A Valentine’s story.

Séan O’Loughlin stood in Heuston Station near Eason newsagents. He was watching the throngs of commuters as they hurried to and fro going about their daily business. He was waiting, but waiting for what or who, the answer to that lies back about three months ago.

Séan had decided that something was missing in his life; he’d tried all the normal channels, work, nightclubs, and bars. In fact all the social activities where you might hope to meet someone to share your life with but to no avail.  You see Séan was looking for a soul mate; in short Séan was looking for love. One of his friends had suggested dating sites but Séan had tried that before with varying results. Another friend suggested the internet as there were chat rooms where you could meet people and get to know them before making any sort of commitment. Séan decided to give it a go.

He made contact with a woman called Mary O’Neill, she seemed to be someone he could chat to and they began to build a relationship. He sent her a photograph of himself and asked if she would send him one of hers, she refused.  She said that if he really cared for her then looks didn’t matter, its’s inside that really counts. She even refused to use a video link. As their relationship developed they found they had a lot in common, they thought alike and Séan realised that he was falling in love with her through her words even though they had never met.

After three months of writing to each other they decided to meet. They arranged to meet at 6-00pm near the newsagents in Heuston station on Valentine’s Day.  She wrote “You will be able to recognise me as I will be carrying a red rose, I will have your photograph with me”.  The six o clock train arrived and Séan stood waiting in anticipation, butterflies seemed to be going mad in his stomach. Finally he saw a group of people making their way along the platform.  He saw a young blond haired woman with green eyes walking towards him, she wore a coat of the most amazing blue and his heart missed a beat. He smiled at her and was just about to introduce himself when he noticed that she was not carrying a rose.  However, right behind her was a woman who looked to be in her late forties with a tuft of greying hair peeping out from under a worn hat. She was rather overweight and her plump ankles were squeezed into a pair of well worn shoes.  She had brown eyes that seemed to twinkle with a warm smile and a kindly expression. She had in her hand a red rose.

Séan quickly looked towards the woman in the blue coat; she was headed towards the Galway Hooker. He hesitated wanting to rush after her but knowing that he couldn’t. He thought of all those hours writing to each other, the words that meant so much to him.  He remembered how he waited each evening by his laptop waiting for her to log on and he realised that looks were not important, Mary’s words came back to him “Its what’s inside that really counts”.  He realised that although she may not look as beautiful as the woman in the blue coat her beauty lay in her words, her friendship and companionship were the things that had raised his spirits and touched his soul. His sense of disappointment vanished and he turned towards the woman on the platform,

“Hello” he said, “I’m Séan, I’m so happy to meet you after all this time, may I take you to lunch?”

“Hello” replied the woman, “I really don’t know what’s going on but the lady in the blue coat gave me this rose. She said that if you introduced yourself then I was to tell you she would meet you in the bar over there, you know, the Galway Hooker?”

“Yes” said Séan, “I know it, but what’s going on?”

The woman replied, “She said it was some sort of test”

Séan nodded, now he understood. Smiling he thanked the woman and headed over to the Galway Hooker.  

He had passed the test, would you?

The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive.  (Arsène Houssaye, 28th March 1815 – 26th February 1896)

Adapted from a true story concerning Lieutenant John Blanchard a WWII soldier.

Keep smiling and Happy Valentine's Day.

SilentOwl.

Valentine’s day traditions.

Another day of celebration introduced into Ireland through Christianity.

The flower called snowdrop first appears in February and is considered a symbol of hope.  According to legend, the snowdrop became the symbol of hope when Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden.  When Eve was about to give up hope that the cold winters would never end, an angel appeared.  She transformed the snowflakes into flowers, so proving that the winters do eventually give way to spring.

Valentine’s day was traditionally the day when birds picked their mate and for this reason it became known as ‘the birds wedding day’. In some countries it is known as the first day of spring and the day that workers return to the fields.

February along with January first appeared on the Roman calendar when the calendar was extended from ten months to twelve. The word February comes from Februa-which means cleansing or purification, and reflects the rituals carried out at spring.

The tradition of Valentine’s day is thought to have originated from pagan customs in Ancient Rome. Festivals of purification and fertility were celebrated between the 13^th and 18^th February. These festivals were dedicated to peace, love, and household goods and involved animal sacrifices to mark a young man’s rite of passage. February 14^th was known as Lupercalia...a day dedicated to Juno-Lupa, the She-Wolf.  Vestal virgins would make a sacrifice of a goat and smear the blood onto the foreheads of youths of noble birth.

  

The youths, clad only in a goat skin thong would then lead revellers known as Luperci on a procession through the fields using a strip of goatskin called a Februa to whip the crops to ensure fertility. Women would be gently lashed using the goatskin strip in order to make them fertile, even those known to be barren.  This act was known as Februatio.  Both Februatio and Februa come from the Latin meaning “to purify”, the naming of the month of February is thought to have its origin from the same source.

One of the festivals celebrated at this time was dedicated to Juno Februata, the Roman goddess of women and marriage. During this time the names of willing young women were placed into a box and drawn by the young, unmarried men. The man and women were matched for a year, which began in March and it was not unusual for the pair to remain together after the year had ended.

With the advent of Christianity these pagan practices couldn’t be allowed to continue so the clergy attempted to stop them. It wasn’t going to be that easy so as we have seen with many other pagan celebrations and festivals the church decided if you can’t beat them. Join them.  The church simply created its own holiday around the same date and selected a saint that was remembered for his devotion to love.  

In AD 496 Pope Gelasius banned the pagan festival of Lupercalia but he kept the Juno Februata lottery. He replaced the drawing of unmarried girls names with those of saint’s. He then ordered that both the young men and girls draw a name from the box.  During the year that followed they were expected to emulate the life of the saint whose name they had drawn.

This may have satisfied the church but the young Roman males still needed to meet nice young Roman females so they simply thought up another custom. They began to offer handwritten greetings of affection on February 14^th.

 

Of course this is only one suggestion for the origin of Valentine’s day, there are others.

      During the medieval era of chivalry, the names of English maidens and bachelors were put into boxes and drawn out in pairs. Each couple exchanged gifts and the girl became the man's sweetheart for a year. He wore her name on his sleeve and was bound by duty to attend and protect her (the accepted origin of the phrase, "to wear one's heart on one's sleeve"). This old custom of drawing names was considered a good omen for love and often foretold a wedding. In 1537, King Henry VIII declared, by Royal Charter, that all England would celebrate February 14 as "Saint Valentine's Day" and with the passage of time, February 14 became the traditional date for exchanging love messages and simple gifts (such as flowers or candy), with Saint Valentine becoming the accepted Patron Saint of Lovers.

                  

Or

      Under the rule of Emperor Claudius II, Rome was involved in many bloody and unpopular campaigns. Claudius the Cruel was having a difficult time getting soldiers to join his military leagues. He believed that the reason was that roman men did not want to leave their loves or families. As a result, Claudius cancelled all marriages and engagements in Rome. Claudius had also ordered all Romans to worship the state religion’s idols, and he had made it a crime punishable by death to associate with Christians. However, Valentinus was dedicated to the ideals of Christ, and not even the threat of death could keep him from practicing his beliefs. Valentine and Saint Marius aided the Christian martyrs and secretly married couples, and for this kind deed Valentine was apprehended and dragged before the Prefect of Rome, who condemned him to be beaten to death with clubs and to have his head cut off. He suffered martyrdom on the 14^th day of February, in either 269 or 270.

Historical archives make mention of at least three different individuals (and perhaps as many as seven) credited with the name of Saint Valentine (or Valentinus).  There may not be any definitive written accounts of which Valentine is the one celebrated by people today, in actuality there may even have been different cults in various places. They may even have celebrated the same person but over the years they have become mixed up with each other as so often happens with stories written down and then re-told.

There is an Irish connection. In 1836, Pope Gregory XVI sent a gift to the Carmelite church in Dublin.  The gift was a relic of a Christian martyr, a small gold casket containing the remains of one Saint Valentine. Every year the casket is carried in solemn procession to the high altar for a special mass dedicated to young people and all those in love.  However, as with all things there is now a dispute between the church in Dublin (Carmelite) and another church in Glasgow (Franciscan), which also claims to have the original remains.  To make matters worse, a similar claim has now been made by the Basillica at Terni, at Terni, in Italy.

To confuse things even more, there has now been speculation in recent times that the name Valentine was originally “Galantine” signifying “Gallant”.  It has been suggested that the Medieval French peasants prounounced the letter ‘G’ as a ‘V’.  Why do the French always get the blame???

All I can say is whether pagan or Christian, we can all celebrate the true meaning of love by giving each other the gift of understanding, togetherness, and laughter.  A box of chocolates and a bottle of wine wouldn’t go amiss though.

Keep smiling,

SilentOwl.

This is not Irish folklore but I found it rather interesting so I thought I'd share it with you. Hope you like it.

The Devil’s Footprints.

One of the strangest things ever to happen in England took place on the night of the 8^th February 1855.  During the night, heavy snowfall blanketed the countryside and small villages of Southern and Eastern Devon., around the Exe Estuary.  In their houses, people huddled beneath their bedclothes on a night of intense cold.  Slowly the first light of dawn came to reveal a frozen landscape-and the footprints.

To the astonishment of all, when people left their houses they found thousands of mystery footsteps.  These were in the shape of a cloven hoof, but they moved in single file.  More astonishingly was the fact that they covered a distance of over a hundred miles and went through fields, gardens, towns, and even over rooftops, they even entered and exited various drain pipes as small as four inches in diameter.  The footprints measured around four inches long and three inches across and were between eight and sixteen inches apart. They were in single file

.

At first people were intrigued, but then they became frightened.  The news spread rapidly over the country and many people believed the footprints belonged to the devil. There were reported sightings of a “devil like figure” in the area and search parties were sent out but to no avail.

The London newspapers published the story and experts came to study the footprints, before the snow melted. Nobody could offer an explanation for the mystery, although various theories ranging from an escaped kangaroo to hopping mice and some of these were printed in The Illustrated London News, March 1855. 

Some false rumours concerning the sighting were spread by the clergy hoping to address the concerns of their parishioners regarding the visit from the devil. It has even been suggested that the local clergy started the devil rumour in the first place saying that the devil was roaming the countryside looking for sinners. Great way to fill the church on a Sunday.

Could the tracks have been made by a badger as it places its back feet in the same tracks left by its front. This could account for people mistaking the tracks as those belonging to a biped. Or did the dark lord really walk the Devon night?  I suppose we’ll never know. I’ll leave you to decide.

Keep smiling.

SilentOwl.