Faerie Lore and Legends

I’ve watched this charm a few times. It’s mesmerizing, fantastical, great special effects, and a good plot. I love the telling. 5 stars out of 5: Thomas Baurley, Techno Tink Media : design.technotink.com.

A hotel room in Istanbul becomes the stage for a rare and beautiful encounter: an erudite scholar, played with quiet precision by Tilda Swinton, stumbles upon a djinn, portrayed with both gravity and yearning by Idris Elba. Here, ancient folklore and the rich traditions of genies and magic rise to the surface, each wish echoing with centuries of longing. A science fiction fantasy blended into a love story of ages told.

Director George Miller, best known for his epic visuals and mythic storytelling, transforms this meeting into a visual and narrative marvel. “Three Thousand Years of Longing” blends the ancient and the modern, weaving tales of desire, regret, and hope into a story that both delights and haunts. For those drawn to djinn, folklore, genies, magic, and the enigmatic power of wishes, this film offers a lavish, immersive experience; one that lingers long after the credits roll.

With its bold creativity, striking visuals, and unforgettable performances, this film stands as a five-star testament to the timeless power of stories and the deep roots of myth. If you’re fascinated by the connections between old-world magic and the mysteries of human desire, this is a cinematic journey you won’t want to miss.

Storytelling, Wishes, and the Magic of Djinn: Plot and Themes in Three Thousand Years of Longing

Stories hold power; none more so than those built on the ancient traditions of djinn, folklore, genies, magic, and the lure of wishes. Three Thousand Years of Longing gathers the scattered fragments of myth, looping ancient legend with present-day yearning. The film’s core is storytelling. Each tale is threaded with longing, regret, and hope, creating a rich tapestry that blurs the boundaries between myth and lived experience.

A Modern Narratologist Meets Ancient Myth: The Set-Up in Istanbul

At the heart of the story is Dr. Alithea Binnie, a narratologist whose life revolves around the study of stories, not their telling. Arriving in Istanbul; a city where East and West collide, where centuries of myth echo in every stone, Alithea attends a conference and chances upon an unusual glass bottle in a market. It is more than a trinket; it is an artifact pulsing with the mysteries of the past.

Back in her hotel room, a simple act unleashes the impossible: the bottle breaks, and from it emerges the djinn. Unlike the traditionally malevolent genie, this djinn is a creature marked by wisdom and melancholy, shaped by his own centuries-long imprisonment. Istanbul itself is more than a backdrop; its labyrinthine streets and storied rooftops form a living map of the film’s themes: crossroads, convergences, and the uneasy tension between skepticism and wonder. The motif of the glass bottle, fragile yet capable of holding infinite power, mirrors Alithea’s blend of rational analysis and secret longing.

In this meeting, folklore and scholarship meet on equal footing. The promise of wishes; those most human of desires, invites a philosophical stance: What would you wish for if you had the chance, and what might it cost?

Mythic Histories and Enchanted Vignettes: Stories Within the Story

Within the hotel room, stories unfurl; each one painted in opulent detail, each wrestling with the eternal questions at the heart of djinn, folklore, genies, magic, and wishes. The djinn recalls legendary encounters, transporting Alithea; and the viewer; across time and empire:

• The passion and heartbreak of the Queen of Sheba, whose intellect and beauty caught the eye of both a djinn and King Solomon.
• The opulence, wonder, and political intrigue of Suleiman the Magnificent’s court, a portrait of the dangers of ambition and the fickle nature of power.
• Tales of captivity, ingenuity, and betrayal, each shaped by the unpredictable alchemy of human longing and supernatural fate.

These vignettes are not empty set pieces. Instead, they anchor the story in the riverbed of myth, drawing on djinn folklore that stretches from ancient Persia to contemporary fantasy. The djinn is neither a mere wish-granter nor a simple trickster; instead, his tales are meditations on the burdens of immortality and the irresistible temptation of hope. The film’s magical realism becomes the language through which old wounds and present fears are explored.

For those fascinated by the links between film and ancient narratives, these layered stories recall the structure of classics like The Arabian Nights, but anchor them squarely in the dilemmas of today. The movie’s use of mythic vignettes creates a shifting mosaic where every wish carries shadows and echoes. This structure asks us: Do we bend folklore to our own desires, or are we shaped, sometimes unwittingly; by the wishes of those who came before?

For more on the rich history of cinematic genies and their cultural roles, you may find this study on the history of genies in film insightful.

Visual Wonder and Effects: The Artistry of Magic and Mystery

The world of Three Thousand Years of Longing is not merely built on stories but rendered in a breathtaking visual language that engages the senses as much as the mind. Its artistry draws directly from the roots of djinn, folklore, genies, magic, and wishes, conjuring a visual feast that is as enchanting as the tales themselves. From sumptuous costumes to glowing color palettes and spellbinding CGI, every frame is alive with intentional, powerful reminder that magic on film is as much seen as it is told.

Cinematic Spellcraft: Costumes, Color Palettes, and Visual Flourishes

Take a closer look at the movie’s palette: it oscillates between the golden warmth of ancient palaces and the chill neutrals of a modern hotel room, pushing the viewer between myth and reality. Halls shimmer with amber light, veils flutter in sapphire darkness, and even shadows seem to carry secrets from centuries past. The film’s use of color is no accident; it recalls the storytelling tapestries of the East and the gilt-edged manuscripts that have kept these tales alive for generations.

Costuming in Three Thousand Years of Longing honors its folkloric inspiration:

• Luxuriant robes and jeweled turbans reimagine royal courts and bazaar magicians of old, their intricate layers evoking both opulence and imprisonment.
• Ethereal silks and translucent fabrics capture the otherworldly, making the djinn appear both powerful and fragile; a being suspended between worldliness and myth.
• The film’s modern scenes, by contrast, feature muted, sharply tailored attire, marking the divide between mundane logic and the intoxicating promise of wishes.

CGI and practical effects work in tandem to create a world that glides between the believable and the impossible. The djinn’s materializations ripple with smoky tendrils, suggesting both ancient confinement and unshackled possibility. Sprawling palaces rise up, not just as backdrops, but as living extensions of mythic longing; each architectural flourish whispers the unspoken desires of its inhabitants.

Try to pause during one of the film’s many transitions between past and present: notice how mystical atmospheres are evoked not by bombast, but by the subtle interplay of shadow, light, and digital flourish. The artistry does not scream for attention; rather, it sighs, beckoning the viewer deeper into the labyrinth of story. Each magical element feels grounded in folklore, a visual echo of the film’s deeper exploration of longing and fate.

For those curious about how filmmakers breathe life into the improbable, these insights into visual effects in fantasy films provide an illuminating background. Many techniques, from chromatic lighting to layered effects, are rooted in the same narrative conceits that have shaped tales of djinn and magic for centuries.

In this way, Three Thousand Years of Longing not only tells stories of magic; it reminds us how magic feels and looks. It is a visual incantation, inviting folklore enthusiasts, movie lovers, and storytellers alike to lose themselves in the luminous, haunted beauty of wishes made visible. If you appreciate films that use every visual tool to conjure the unseen, you may also enjoy exploring the visual artistry behind other cinematic classics found in the fantasy adventure film archives.

Performance Magic: Idris Elba, Tilda Swinton, and the Power of Subtlety

The heart of Three Thousand Years of Longing beats not in spectacle alone, but in the performances of Idris Elba and Tilda Swinton. Their on-screen chemistry does not shout for attention; instead, it pulses quietly beneath each exchange, drawing viewers into an unspoken dance of intellect, wonder, and restrained yearning. By navigating the complex terrain of djinn, folklore, genies, magic, and wishes, the actors transform what might have been a simple fairy tale into a study of desire and restraint, sorrow and hope; emotions carried on the smallest shifts in tone or glance.

Idris Elba: The Djinn as Storyteller and Soul

Idris Elba’s approach to the ancient djinn is marked by a sense of patience, age, and layered grief. He brings neither bombast nor broad gestures. Instead, longing filters through the hush of his voice, the measured cadence of each story told, and the deep, searching gaze that lingers between words. Elba’s djinn is not a mere wish-granter, but a soul worn by centuries; by regret, by fleeting moments of happiness, and by the loneliness of immortality.

Elba’s performance draws directly from traditions of djinn folklore. His character radiates both power and vulnerability; a supernatural being shaped as much by the constraints of myth as by the unpredictable nature of those who summon him. The pause before each memory, the soft ache behind every reminiscence, paints a portrait far richer than any magical special effect.

For a detailed overview of Elba’s interpretation, the Rolling Stone review of the film explores how his presence underscores the film’s central themes of longing and fate.

Tilda Swinton: Scholar, Skeptic, and Believer

Tilda Swinton steps into the role of Dr. Alithea Binnie with her signature clarity and self-possession. Swinton is a scholar first; her movement measured, her voice almost clinical. Yet it is the cracks in this reserve, the moments of disbelief softening into awe, that breathe life into the story. Swinton gives us a scholar haunted by stories she cannot fully understand, and it is this tension between the known and the mystical that she holds skillfully throughout the film.

Her chemistry with Elba forms the film’s lynchpin. Their exchanges are not about grand gestures, but about what remains unsaid. Swinton’s performance grounds the narrative, keeping the film tethered to the world of logic and scholarship, even as it spins into realms of djinn and wishes. She serves as the audience’s stand-in: questioning, doubting, and slowly opening to the possibility of magic.

Chemistry, Silence, and the Art of Restraint

Both actors resist the temptation to overplay their roles. Their dynamic is built on trust and stillness; a refusal to rush toward spectacle. In many scenes, what matters most is the weight of a silence, the shared glance across cultures and centuries. Their restraint gives gravity to each story, charging even the most fantastical moments with real emotional stakes.

These performances show how the magic of djinn folklore isn’t always summoned with special effects or elaborate costumes. Sometimes, it’s found in the quiet interplay between two skilled actors, who know the true spell is cast in subtlety and suggestion. The drama hovers just beneath the surface, ready to spill over, and the audience is left leaning forward, caught, like the characters themselves, on the edge of wonder.

For those who enjoy reflecting on both acting craft and myth, the IMDB page for the film provides comprehensive cast information and audience reviews that highlight the balance between spectacle and emotion in these performances. If you love magic that lives in the in-between spaces and performances that shape the fabric of a story, these are the moments in Three Thousand Years of Longing that linger the longest.

A Modern Fable: Philosophical Questions, Symbolism, and the Heart of the Story

In Three Thousand Years of Longing, wishes are never granted without weight. This story invites the viewer to confront not only the spectacle of magic but the deep ideas hidden beneath every granted wish and whispered legend. The film draws on classic djinn folklore and genies’ lore, setting ancient motifs alongside modern lives. At its core, the narrative asks: What do our wishes reveal about us, and what do we risk when we make them real? Let’s explore how these themes pulse through each frame.

The Meaning of Wishes: Longing, Regret, and Hope

Before the granted wish, there is longing; that ache, barely spoken, that drives characters to imagine life different from what fate provides. Alithea, more scholar than dreamer, stands as an anchor for viewers who ask not just if wishes can alter destiny, but if they should. Her journey with the djinn becomes a meditation on two sides of every wish:

• Desire versus Wisdom: Wishes are painted as both a release and a trap. The djinn, worn by centuries, warns how unchecked longing can unsettle even the greatest empires or most brilliant minds.
• Regret: The tales within the film, each a vignette of unfulfilled love or ambition, remind us that what we crave may wound us, and that every answer comes with new questions.

In folklore around djinn and genies, wish-granting is never simple. There is always a twist, a reminder that wanting is bound up with risk, and that the thing asked for may cost more than expected. The film’s narrative pauses for reflection, showing how hope can heal or haunt, all shaped by the choices we make in moments of longing.

For those wanting to see how cultural traditions shape these paradoxes, this discussion of tricky genies in myth helps explain why folklore often paints wishes as both a blessing and a curse.

Symbolism in Djinn, Folklore, Genies, Magic, and Wishes

The film leans into age-old symbols: bottles, thresholds, and silence. Each motif binds the personal to the universal, reminding us that stories persist even when names and borders change.

• The Glass Bottle: This vessel isn’t just a prison; it’s a memory chest, heavy with the weight of time and longing. Like countless genie tales, the bottle both protects and confines, a symbol of how we guard our own desires; trapping them, perhaps, because of fear or doubt.
• The Threshold: Doors, windows, and borderlands recur throughout. Istanbul’s silhouette, poised between continents, becomes a living metaphor for stories that connect past and present, East and West, fact and myth.
• The Act of Storytelling: Stories told within the hotel room echo the ancient tradition of tales within tales; mirrors to our own lives and regrets.

Unlike many fantasy films, Three Thousand Years of Longing asks us not just to witness magic, but to question how we define it. Is a wish a cry for freedom, a signal of loss, or the hope that shapes our future? This question echoes through djinn folklore, from Arabian legend to modern fantasy, never settling on a single answer.

The symbolic nature of the genie’s three-wish contract has long fascinated philosophers and storytellers. For a thoughtful exploration, see the overview at Mythos Anthology’s take on genies, which lays out why the act of wishing demands reflection as much as courage.

The Price of Desire: Warnings Woven into Myth

The emotional force of the film rests not just on what is wished but on what is lost. Every story told by the djinn is tinged with caution; a memory of cost, betrayal, or transformation. These lessons are not unique to Miller’s film; they resonate across the tapestry of djinn and genie folklore, where desire is shadowed by consequence.

• Transformation as Warning: Those who seek shortcuts to happiness—be it love, power, or beauty- find that magic magnifies not just hope, but also flaw and fear.
• Fate and Free Will: Even the most carefully worded wish is changed by fate’s hand. Here, djinn act as mirrors. They reflect back not only longing, but the shape of a soul’s unfinished journey.

This tension; between wanting and wisdom, is where the film’s heart beats loudest. The movie does not chide, but neither does it promise a happy ending. Like the best fables, it lets consequence linger, a spark to those ready to listen, wonder, and learn.

If you’re interested in philosophical traditions that have grappled with the risks hidden in wish-making, consider this thoughtful question posed on Quora about why genies twist wishes. The answer, it seems, is as much about us as it is about myth.

Connection Across Centuries: Stories as Bridges

In the end, the film suggests that stories, like wishes, are bridges; spanning centuries, overcoming borders, and making sense of mystery. The djinn’s tales become a way to mourn old wounds, celebrate hope, and pass on warnings. Istanbul, with its centuries of myth layered atop one another, stands as a testament to this idea: every stone, every whispered legend, tells a story worth remembering.

For viewers drawn to symbolism and the enduring power of myth, Three Thousand Years of Longing is more than a fairy tale. It is an invitation to see how every story; no matter how magical, holds a mirror to our own choices, wants, and dreams.

Fans who wish to look deeper into the links between film and folklore can take a look at the folklore genre archive for more films that trade in stories both wondrous and wise.

Why Folklorists, Storytellers, and Fantasy Lovers Shouldn’t Miss Three Thousand Years of Longing

Three Thousand Years of Longing stands as a beacon for anyone fascinated by the deep well of djinn, folklore, genies, magic, and wishes. The film reaches across centuries of myth and oral tradition, threading ancient tales into the fabric of modern storytelling. For folklorists, storytellers, and devoted seekers of fantasy, Miller’s vision delivers not just entertainment, but a living archive; an invitation to see, hear, and feel the pulse of story where it all began: with longing, with secrets, and with the fire of imagination.

A Cinematic Treasure Trove for Folklorists

Folklorists will immediately recognize the film’s meticulous homage to the origins and evolution of the djinn. Miller offers a rich tapestry that honors how myth survives; how stories are shaped by the hands and tongues of those who recount them. Rather than flatten the djinn into a one-dimensional wish-granter, the movie restores these figures to their rightful, multifaceted place in history.

• The djinn lore in the film taps into traditions from pre-Islamic Arabia and beyond, echoing accounts of creatures that serve as guardians, tricksters, or tragic figures haunted by fate. For those drawn to the historical significance of such myths, the account of jinn in ancient traditions offers a persuasive background, showing their enduring grip on cultural imagination.
• Stories within the film reference a spectrum of legends; from the Queen of Sheba to Ottoman sultans, serving as a window into the shifting boundary between human lives and supernatural possibility.

These layers create a sense of authenticity. The film becomes a living document, a screen-bound version of the oral tales that have shaped our sense of wonder across centuries.

A Masterclass in Storytelling

Every storyteller seeks not just to entertain, but to transfer meaning, passing the flame of insight, joy, or caution from one listener to the next. Three Thousand Years of Longing excels in this, crafting a mosaic of tales that intertwine, overlap, and illuminate, each one drawing the audience deeper into the world of djinn, folklore, genies, magic, and wishes.

This film is built as a series of nested stories, much like the earliest folktales; each narrative revealing another layer of desire, regret, and meaning. For modern storytellers, this technique reminds us of the power of stories-within-stories: each voice, whether royal, captive, or free, adds a distinct thread to the tapestry of the whole.

Those interested in the craft and cultural weight of storytelling will appreciate how the script draws from the motif of the three wishes; a device both ancient and endlessly relevant. To understand why genies and three wishes continue to inspire, the discussion on the symbolism of three wishes delves into how these tales caution and instruct through narrative constraint.

A Feast for Fantasy Enthusiasts

Fantasy lovers will be swept up by the visual and emotional detail with which the film summons its world. Miller harnesses the strange beauty and danger inherent in genie folklore, replacing cartoonish tropes with something grander, older, and more magnetic.

• Magic here carries weight, history, and the scent of distant kingdoms ‘ palaces that breathe, spells that ache with longing.
• The shifting moods and magical transformations in the film evoke classics of the genre, while sidestepping clichés to deliver spectacle grounded in emotional truth.

Those eager to explore more fantasy films that revisit myth and magic will find a thorough collection in the fantasy adventure film archives, which lists works that similarly engage with mythic themes.

Critical, Scholarly, and Audience Acclaim

The film has received high marks from critics and viewers alike, especially for its faithfulness to the spirit of mythology and its thoughtful handling of wish-making. Folklorists have praised its research and attention to cultural nuance. Storytellers call its structure both innovative and faithful to age-old traditions. Fantasy fans celebrate its lush visuals and emotional resonance.

Its academic value is also considerable; for those interested in how folklore and philosophy converge, this essay on folktales as philosophy explains why stories like those in Three Thousand Years of Longing are essential not only for entertainment, but for reflecting on culture, morality, and the limits of human desire.

Three Thousand Years of Longing does more than retell an old myth; it breathes new life into the oldest questions. What do we wish for? At what cost? In these questions, storytellers and audiences find a mirror, and perhaps; if they listen closely, a wish of their own taking shape.

For those looking to expand their exploration of myth and magic on screen, consider the recommended titles found in the folklore genre archive, where stories ancient and new pulse with the same vitality that defines this film.

Reviewed

Three Thousand Years of Longing stands as a rare piece of cinema; one that recognizes the living power found in djinn, folklore, genies, magic, and wishes. The film refuses to settle for simple spectacle or nostalgia. Instead, it weaves a new kind of myth, where old stories shake hands with modern longing, and every wish carries its own gravity. For seekers of meaning, lovers of tales, and scholars of mythic tradition, this is essential viewing deserving its five-star acclaim.

This story lingers, urging us to ask what longings tie us to the past, and how imagination shapes the world ahead. For those who wish to journey deeper into films where myth and magic meet storytelling craft, the fantasy adventure film archives offer further riches worth exploring.

Thank you for reading; share your thoughts, your favorite tales of wishes, or your own memories of magical cinema. Let every story spark another.

The Hag of Beara Stone or An Chailleach Bhéara
by Thomas Baurley, Folklorist and Archaeologist, Techno Tink, LLC
https://technowanderer.com/hag-of-beara-stone/
https://technotink.net/photography/?p=14442
https://archaeologyfinds.com/?p=305

Ring of Beara, County Kerry/County Cork, Ireland

Driving the Ring of Beara in West Cork/County Kerry, Ireland I came across the infamous “Hag of Beara” stone – also known as An Chailleach Bhéara or the White nun of Beara, The Cailleach, “Hag”, “Old Crone”, or Old Woman of Dingle. In Irish lore, she is known as the Cally Berry or Cailleach Bheara.  

This boulder is a fabled petrified stone of the Divine Hag or Cailleach, the Irish Goddess of Winter. The Queen of Winter.  Of course my visit to her was a rainy cold winter day and very tributing to that connutation.

Beara is also connected with the other Goddess/ poetesses: Brigit, Liadan, and Uallach.  She is seen as one of Ireland’s oldest aspects of the Great Goddess trinity, alongside younger incarnations as a maiden and mother. She is sometimes called the second side or winter half of the Goddess Brigid. She is said to rule the months between Samhain (around Nov 1^st) until Beltane (around May 1^st), while Brigid rules the summer months.  She is described to be an old crone who brings winter with her when she appears and wields powers over life and death. She could control the weather and many of her worshippers had a mixture of reverence with fear in tribute and respect for outcomes of their winter crops. She is the bringer of winter, goddess of Destruction, Goddess of Creation, and the weather witch.

Said to have been born on Samhain in the “Teach Mor” or Great House in what is now known as “Tivore” on the  Dingle peninsula in county Kerry. Her house was known as “the house farthest west in Ireland.” Cailleach Bheara was originally named “Boi” a variant of the word for a cow “‘bó’”.  The ‘Oileán Baoi’ (Boi Island), or Dursey Island, was named after her maiden image of “Bo”.  She is known as a Goddess of Creation, nick-named the hag or hooded one, and is a special Deity to the Beara Peninsula of County Cork, Ireland which her Beara name is associated. She is described as having worn a hood or a veil given to her by Saint Cummine for a hundred years. She welcomed the winter weather every winter in this area overlooking the sea. Imprisoned as petrified to stone for centuries past and to come. She holds special attribution to the countryside of County Cork (elder age) and County Kerry (childhood). Rumored to be a mother or foster mother to ancestors of many clans in these counties, including Corca Loighdhe and Corca Dhuibhne.  She has been referenced as either being the wife or daughter of Manannan Mac Lir, the Irish God of the Sea. It is said she had seven periods of youth one after another, that every man that lived with her died of old age and is why her descendants are many, making up entire tribes and races extending from Ireland to Scotland. She was also said to have had many lovers, including the Fenian warrior “Fothad Donainne”.

Originally a Pagan Deity, she was intermingled into Christian mythology with the arrival of Saint Caithighearn, who came to Kilcatherine and the surrounding area preaching Christianity. Caithighearn was seen as a threat to the Hag of Beara.  Cailleach never related to Christian wisdom but was curious about it for its threat to her. It is said that after a day of food gathering on the peninsula, the hag returned to Kilcatherine to find the saint asleep, approached her, and stole her prayer book. A cripple nearby saw this theft and awoke the Saint who saw the Hag running away. As the saint ran after her, caught up with her in Ard na Cailli, she took the prayer book back and turned the hag to stone with her back to the hill and face the sea. This is the “Hag of Beara” stone, which I visited on this rainy day of December 19th, 2023. I could feel the sorrow, the loneliness, the solitude, and the magic surrounding the stone. I could also feel the rumored “warmth” and inner dampness of the stone, which is said to remain moist despite the warmth of summer months because of the life force it contains. In her youth, she was called the “Daughter of the Sun,” and she was powerful during the summer months and weakened towards the winter months.  By spring, she loses her strength, overcome by the powers of the Spring Equinox.   She is said to visit a hidden Well of Youth that she drinks from as the sun rises, and this is how she transforms into the young, beautiful Bride or Brigid Goddess, her other half.

The Scottish also honor and tribute the Cailleach as a mother of all Gods and Goddesses in Scotland, as powerful as most Gaelic myths profess her to be. There, she is often called the Cailleach Bheur, Beira, or Carlin. She is said to predate Celtic Mythology. She has existed “from the long eternity of the world.”   Some have placed her in the realms of the Fomorians and Titans, but that is another tale.  Some have quoted her as a Spanish princess named Beara, and others have attributed her to being a bastardized version of Kali, the great Hindu Goddess brought to Britain by Indian immigrants. She is internationally seen as a crone Goddess, dressed in grey with dun-colored plaid wrapped around her shoulders, with faces wan and blue like a corpse with long white or grey hair speckled with frost. A single eye in the center of her forehead, a being who can see beyond this world and into the next – and likened to the Fomorians because of this depiction. She sometimes appears in myth wearing an apron or a creel strapped to her back and carrying a wooden staff. Other sources describe the staff as a wand or hammer, potentially a shillelagh or walking stick/club made from the wood of the blackthorn tree associated with the crone and witches. Some say we get the modern depiction of the hagly witch in our Halloween imagery as that from the Cailleach. She is well known through the mythology and legends of the British Isles.

The British called her the Black Annis and the Cailleach ny Groamch or Cailleach Groarnagh on the Isle of Man. Other names for her are said to be the Blue Hag of Winter, Bone Mother, Woman of Stones, Cailleach Nollaig (The Christmas old wife), and Cailleach Mhor Nam Fiadh (the great old woman of the deer), and Cailleach Beinne Breac (old woman of the speckled mountain).

One Scottish legend is Cailleach as the winter Goddess ushering in the cold and dark winter months beginning at Samhain, keeping the lands cold until Imbolc (St Brigid Day). It is said on Samhain that she goes to the Corryvreckan whirlpool just north of the Isle of Jura to wash her great plaid. When the plaid emerges from the clean and shining white waters, she uses it to cover Scotland in a blanket of snow. Through winter, she walks the land, striking the ground and trees with her staff, crushing any sign of growth appearing.

In one myth, she imprisons the young virginal Brid, the personification of Spring, inside Ben Nevis on Samhain. Her son Angus, King of Summer, learns about Brid’s imprisonment in a dream and consults the king of the Green Isle for her whereabouts – the king replies, “The fair princess whom you saw is Brid, and in the days when you will be king of summer, she will be your queen. Your mother has full knowledge of this, and she wishes to keep you away from Brid so that her reign may be prolonged.”   He then sets out seeking his beloved and frees her from the confines of the mountain on the eve of Imbolc. Once the Cailleach learns of this, She immediately chases after the couple, and a great fight ensues. The battle continues through the night until Cailleach escapes her son’s potentially fatal blow by turning her into a standing stone – the Hag of Beara. She is to remain in that form until the following Samhain where she will appear again to usher in the winter and imprison Brid within Ben Nevis as an eternal cycle of light and dark, changing of the seasons, and fertility of the land.

In the Carmina Gadelica, Alexander Carmichael refers to Cailleach as “the first week of April, represented as a wild hag with a venomous temper, hurrying about with a magic wand on her withered hand, switching the grass and keeping down the vegetation to the detriment of man and beast. When, however, the grass upborne by the warm sun, the gentle dew, and the fragrant rain overcomes the “Cailleach,” she flies into a terrible temper, throwing her wand into the roots of a whin bush, and disappears in a whirling cloud of angry passion til the beginning of April comes again.”

Another Pagan tale is that she encountered two huntsmen while transformed into a deer. She appears to them as the crone and points them toward the best hunting grounds, and the two young men kill an immense stag they drag home to their father. Upon reaching the cottage, the stag disappears, and the father scolds them for not having the meat as the Cailleach had instructed and let the fairies take it from them. She is associated with various creatures, including birds found in Ireland. She, in particular, is associated with the deer she safeguards, wolves, black cats, wild cattle, and goats.

She is also written as the narrator for “The Lament of the Hag of Beara,” an Irish medieval poem in which she bitterly laments the passing of her youth and her decrepit old age. She is also written about in the collection of stories within the Great Book of Lecan which is dated approximately 1400 C.E. In the 12th century, she is named the White Nun of Beare in the Vision of Mac Conglinne. In the Lament of the Hag of Beara, she narrates a world ruled by the flow and ebb of the sea tide, with the turn of which life will dwindle, as with the coming tide, it waxes to its full powers and energy, according to folklorist Eleanor Hull in the interpretation of the medieval poem. The Hag of Beara somberly reminisces about their youth when she drank mead and wine with kings and now lives a lonely abandoned life amongst the “gloom of a prayer” and “shriveled old hags.”  This is befitting for my journey here this week as I myself embrace the onsets of “old age” still working through my divinity from youth to father to old man. I embrace a solitary Winter Solstice holiday and solitude averse to my younger wild parties and adventurous days. I sat, peering over the Bay from her stone, contemplating my state of being and aging as I feel its effects on my body.

I am the Hag of Beare,
An ever-new smock I used to wear;
Today—such is my mean estate—-
I wear not even a cast-off smock.

The maidens rejoice
When May-day comes to them,
For me, sorrow is meeter,
I am wretched; I am an old hag.

Amen! Woe is me!
Every acorn has to drop.
After feasting by shining candles
To be in the gloom of a prayer.

I had my day with Kings,
Drinking mead and wine;
Today, I drink whey water
Among shriveled old hags.

~ excerpts from a 1919 translation by Lady Augusta Gregory, Trinity College, Dublin.

According to mythology, she dropped or threw stones from her apron as she passed around Ireland through Scotland. Each of these stones grew into rock formations or mountains associated with her, which are recognizable places of worship for her tribute and prayers. Her name, “Boi,” gave rise to the Oilean Baoi or Dursey Island located at the tip of the Beara peninsula, said to be her home.

She has several landmarks attributed to her throughout Ireland, Scotland, and the British Isles, such as the (1) Hag’s Head in County Clair, the Ceann Cailli rock formation on the southernmost point of the Cliffs of Moher, Co. Claire. (2) the “Hag of Beara” Rock chair, a natural boulder in Kilcatherine, Beara, Co. Cork claimed to be her fossilized remains on a chair which she sits overlooking the sea awaiting Manannan mac Lir, the God of the Sea, sometimes defined as her husband or father. (3) Sliabh na Cailli or “The Hag’s Mountain” in County Meath. (4)  This stone here, the “Hag of Beara” – a large rock overlooking Coulagh Bay, close to Eyeries in County Cork, represents her face turned to stone as she stared out to sea, awaiting for Manannan mac Lir to return to her. It’s the (5) Beinn na Caillich on the Isle of Skye in Scotland.  (6) The scarred path down the side of Schiehallion bears her name, Sgriob na Calliach, or “furrows of the Cailleach,” where she lost footing and slid down the mountain. (7) the Ailsa Craig supposed was created from a dropped boulder when a fisherman sailed his boat underneath the Cailleach, and the sail of his boat brushed the inside of her thigh, frightening her and causing her to drop the boulder. (8) the Cailleach stone on Gigha and (9) the Callanais stones on the Isle of Lewis. (10) Loch Awe on the banks of Ben Cruachan was a great well on the summit from which the Cailleach drew her water daily; it was covered by a heavy stone slab; this slab was to be replaced by sunset or the water inside the well would spill out and flood the world – one tiring evening she removed the stone slab to draw her water. She sat down to rest before walking home. Exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep on the hillside, and the water tumbled from the well in vast torrents and streamed down the mountainside – the roar of water awoke her. She quickly replaced the slab in enough time to prevent the world from being flooded, but the once fertile Vale of Tempe got covered and became Loch Awe.

(11) The House of the Cailleach, Taigh na Cailleach at the head of Glen Lyon, is situated by Glen Cailleach and is seen as a shrine to her for hundreds if not thousands of years involving a Beltane rite where the stones stacked at its entrance were removed, roof freshly thatched, and a family of water-worn stones resembling figures of the Cailleach, the Bodach (old man), and the Nighean (daughter) were brought outside for the summer months. Samhain placed the stones back inside the house before the entrance was sealed until the next summer when the rite repeated. Some say that the (12) Megalithic tombs at Carrowmore were created from stones falling from her apron. (13) The same is true of the passage tombs on the Coolera Peninsula outside of Sligo. (The stones that created these were supposedly collected by the Cailleach from the megalithic tombs at Lough crew) (14), and in the Dartry Mountains, there is even the Cailleach’s house. I’ve been to this house, and it resonates so well with her legend.

At each location, pilgrims, visitors, spiritualists, and tourists often leave coins, clooties, and other offerings for her tribute and request prayers. It is said that she is the stone “Hag of Beara” when she presides over the winter months, but come summer, when Brigid rules, she transforms back into her human shape on Samhain.

She is celebrated on various feast days, including February 1^st, the Feast Day of St. Bridgit, the day the Cailleach is supposed to transfer her power to Bridgit, who brings forth the spring and summer months. Suppose this day (also known as Groundhog’s Day in the Americas) has favorable weather. In that case, this is taken as a bad omen that the Cailleach can collect extra firewood and draw the winter out, but if the weather is bad, the Cailleach will remain asleep, and winter will be shortened. Some associate this with the American celebration of Groundhog’s Day and determination if we’ll have a longer winter or an earlier spring. The American spinoff is about a bad weather day, limiting the collection of firewood to whether or not the groundhog sees his shadow based on the weather of the day.

March 25^th in Scotland is the Latha na Cailliche (Day of the Old Woman), which celebrates the transition of winter into summer. This was also the atypical “New Year’s Day” in Scotland until it changed to the present attribution of January 1^st during the 17^th century. Competitions and festivities were often held on this day to see who could drive the winter hag away. During Beltane celebrations, around May 1^st, on the Isle of Man, many competitions occur where staged battles between summer and winter take place, with summer always triumphing.

Location: Traveling from Ardgroom to Eyeries along the Beara Way Cycle route or Ring of Beara, follow south past the Kilcatherine Church. It is on the right side overlooking Coulagh Bay and is marked by a signpost. There is limited parking available. It’s a small walk down the hill. During winter, it is wet and boggy, so I recommend wellies.

References:

• Augusta, Lady Gregory 1919 The Kiltartan Poetry Book. G. Putnam’s: New York.
• Daly, Eugene 2021 “The Hag of Beara” from the westcorkpeople.ie website referenced 5/9/24 at https://westcorkpeople.ie/columnists/the-hag-of-beara/.
• Fergus  2017  “The Cailleach Beara or the Hag of Beara.”  The Irish Place. Website referenced 6/9/24 at https://www.theirishplace.com/heritage/the-cailleach-beara-or-the-hag-of-beara/.
• Hull, Eleanor  1927   “Legends and Traditions of the Cailleach Bheara or Old Woman (Hag) of Beare”. Folklore, Vo 38, no 3, Sept 30, 2937. Pgs 225-254.
• Monumental Ireland  2024  An Chailleach Bhearra – the Hag of Beara.  Monumental Ireland website, referenced 6/9/24 at https://monumentalireland.ie/the-hag-of-beara/.
• O’Sullvan, Leanne   2013   “On the Beara Peninsula: Written in Stone.” New Hibernia Review: Iris Éireannach Nua, Volume 17, No. 3 2013. pp. 9–14
• Rainbolt, Dawn   2017  “Irish Folklore, Myths & Legends: The Hag of Beara” in Wilderness Ireland. Website referenced 6/9/24 at https://www.wildernessireland.com/blog/hag-beara-irish-myths-legends/.
• Wee White Hoose  2021  “Older than Time: The Myth of the Cailleach, the Great Mother”. Website referenced 6/9/24 at https://weewhitehoose.co.uk/study/the-cailleach/.
• Wikipedia  2024   “The Hag of Beara” Wikipedia article referenced 6/9/24 at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hag_of_Beara.
• Yeats, W.B.  1964  “Modern Ireland: An Address to American Audiences, 1932-1933.” The Massachusetts Review, Vo. 5, no 2, 1964.
• Zucchelli, Christine 2016  Sacred Stones of Ireland, Cork: Collins Press, 2016.

Manitou – the Great Spiritu

Article by Thomas Baurley, Leaf McGowan, Technogypsie Research

In the heart of the Ute and many Algonquian Native American groups, the closest equivalent to the Christian concept of “God” would be the “Great Spirit” or “Manitou”, A God of many names. It is the spiritual and fundamental all-knowing life force, omnipresent, all-seeing, all-existing, and the combined spirit of all organisms, their environments, and life events.

“Aasha Monetoo” – The Great Spirit, divided by “Aashaa monetoo – “The Good Spirit” and otshee monetoo – “the bad spirit”. It is S/he of no sex that gave humanity the land, the sky, and the sea to the people. It was a well-known concept amongst many tribes, especially within the Algonquian family groups, even pre-contact and pre-Christianization by Euro-American contact.

European explorer Thomas Harriot recorded in 1585 in his glossary of the Algonquian language Roanoke the term “mantoac” meaning “Gods”. “Gitche Manitou” in Algonquian refers to “Supreme Being” or “Great Spirit”. In Shamanism, “manitous” (aka “manidoog” or “manidoowag”) are connections that are connected to achieve desired effects such as buffalo manitou for a good hunt, plant manitous for healing, and manidoowag as an aspect of the Great Connection.

The derivatives “manituw” are underwater creatures that were appeased with offerings from hunters for safe passage amongst the Iynu. The Canadian province “Manitoba” is named after Lake Manitoba coming from “manitou-wapow” – the Straight of the Manitou, divine passage through the rocks by the Creator. Manitoulin Island, or “spirit island”, is a very sacred place to the Ojibway or Anishinaabe tribes where they have placed sounding rocks and created sacred sites.

Fox Indians believed the manitou lived in the grandfather stones of the sweat lodge. When one heats the rocks, the heat of the fire forces manitou to come out of its place within the stones. It is released from the stones when water is added, following the steam, and entering the human body. Once inside, it moves all over the body driving out everything that inflicts pain. Before it returns to the stone, it imparts some of its nature to the body. This is why “manitou” is seen from volcanic waters, heated waters, or mineral springs as carrying a ride within the waters, entering the human body when it is drunk, and then healing the body in the process. The Colorado village of “Manitou Springs” is named after the local tribes’ belief that Manitou – the Great Spirit blessed itself in the mineral waters that rise up from the karst topography as a healing spirit – once drank into the body, cleansing, purifying, and healing the body as it travels within.

Manitou is also called “Wakan Tanka” amongst the Sioux tribes, Gitche Manitou in Algonquian, and other names around the varying peoples. Even though there is much evidence that many tribes and peoples, mostly Algonquian, believed in this concept, and being before Christianity affected their belief systems, other scientists believe that not all tribes believed in a supreme being until after the 18th century. It was during the 18th century that many saw the “Great Spirit” an anthropomorphic celestial deity who ruled over the world.

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Cúchulainn mythos … coming soon!

Coming Soon!

GWYN AP NUDD

The ruler of the Welsh Fae or the “Tylwyth Teg” (Fair Folk) is Gwyn ap Nudd. He is also the King of the Dead, a sombre looking male who often is accompanied by an owl. He rules over a Middle Earth kingdom, beneath the Earth that is believed to be entered via the Welsh Lakes or through the Glastonbury Tor where he once ruled.

He left Glastonbury when the Christian missionaries began converting Britain to their way and turning the humans away from the Old God/desses and spirits. Even Saint Collen preached against Gwyn Ap Nudd – decrying that he was not a King of the Faeries nor the King of Annwyn the Underworld. This upset Gwyn who requested the Saint’s presence at Glastonbury Tor. The Saint reluctantly met with him armed carrying holy water. When he arrived upon the hill he discovered troops of minstrels, comely youths, and graceful pretty maids with King Gwyn ap Nudd atop his golden throne. Gwyn offered Collen the feast but the Saint refused the Fairy food knowing eating such would trap him in Faerie forever. He then sprung up and doused the King with holy water causing Gwyn to disappear.

The son of Nudd, God of the Dead, Gwyn ap Nudd is one of the many Faerie Kings who serves the Underworld and the Dead. Other God/desses that do this are Barinthus, Arawn, and Finvarra. Sometimes the Land of the Fae is equivalent to the Land of the Dead in Celtic Folklore. These worlds are accessed from caves, wells, under lakes/pools, tors, and fairy mounds. These gates represented the power of the Fae – life, and death, all power and fertility. The Dead are celebrated on Samhain, Yule, and Lughnasad when these doors are commonly found open.

Gwyn ap Nudd rules the Cwn Annwn, the red-eared white Faerie Welsh Hounds of the Underworld, and Wild Hunt. THey ride out on wild and stormy nights to pursue the souls of the Newly Deceased. From a distance, their howls sound like lamentation and get softer spoken the closer they come to their victim.

Bibliography / Recommended Reading:

• Croker, Thomas Crofton undated “Fairy Legends and Traditions”. Website referenced on 12/23/13 at http://books.google.ie/books?id=3jCPRo9GAE8C&pg=PT133&lpg=PT133&dq=Gougane+Barra+fairy&source=bl&ots=zVDgcqoGvM&sig=EGQByEFSCrbPtok_RMVoMgdye7s&hl=en&sa=X&ei=VBG4UuJRqaztBt6bgOgC&ved=0CIIBEOgBMAs#v=onepage&q=Gougane%20Barra%20fairy&f=false. Library of Alexandria: unknown.
• Croker, Thomas Crofton undated “Fairy Legends and Traditions of the south of Ireland”. Website referenced on 12/23/13 at http://books.google.ie/books?id=ltoDAAAAQAAJ&pg=PA274&lpg=PA274&dq=Gougane+Barra+fairy&source=bl&ots=y2RVZLcpEv&sig=0VH_Ip4ZQp_uexpefGt3yHAMPuQ&hl=en&sa=X&ei=VBG4UuJRqaztBt6bgOgC&ved=0CIUBEOgBMAw#v=onepage&q=Gougane%20Barra%20fairy&f=false
• Mercian Gathering undated “Bad Faeries” website referenced 12/24/2013 at http://www.merciangathering.com/bad_fairies.htm.

 

Wandjini or Wandjina

For the People of the Land Down Under in Kimberley, the Wandjina are their representation of the “Supreme Creator”. They are also known as “The Sky Beings” or “cloud spirits”. They are the symbol to use for “fertility” and “rain”. Images of the Wandjina are painted in rock art throughout Western Kimberley and are not found anywhere else in Australia.

The Wandjina’s area is about 200,000 square kilometers of lands, water, sea, and islands in the Kimberley region of north-western Australia, dating back at least 60,000 years B.P. or older. The three Wandjina tribal groups are the Worora, Ngarinyin, and Wunumbul people. They are also called “Gwion Gwion” or “Gyorn Gyorn”.

They are amongst the most sacred of figures and extremely spiritual images to the Mowanjum peoples who comprise up the three language groups – the Worrorra, Ngarinyin, and Wunumbal. They are sometimes depicted in threes. The Wandjinias have large eyes on a face with no mouth. Legend states they have no mouths because that would make them too powerful. They have been said to have control over nature. One has been claimed to be the origin of the Milky Way. They have been known for their role in creating the world and universe. 

They sometimes are depicted with elaborate headdresses and each of these can symbolize a different kind of storm. Their eyes also represent weather storms. Their elegant elongated bodies featured in the Gyorn Gyorn images represent their long-ago ancestors before the Wandjinas who brought the laws of the land and can date upwards of 20,000 years B.C.E. These images can be found with Wandjinas over-painted on them with other imagery. When this occurs, they are sometimes called “Bradshaws”.

According to Aboriginal law, only Aboriginal people who went through the law are allowed to use Wandjinas and their representation. Only after years of initiation, ceremonies, and the tribal council can an Aboriginal artist win the right to depict Wandjinas in their art. Throughout Australia, modern art depicting the Wandjina can be found that is considered inappropriate art work.

It is especially inappropriate for a non-Indigenous person to depict Wandjinas without permission. Doing so is seen as mockery and denigration of the spiritual beliefs of the Worrorra people. Another inappropriate depiction of Wandjina was done in Perth around 2007 varying from stencil-work to spray painting of Wandjina driving a pink car. There were even Flickr blogs of people engaged in “Wandjina watching” documenting such graffiti found. The Wandering Wandjina really angered traditional indigenous people and a film called “Who Paintin’ Dis Wandjina” covers the Aboriginal reaction.

They are often seen as cloud and rain spirits as well. They were known to have created the landscape and its inhabitants of the Dreamtime, continually influencing both. When the spirits found the place for their death bed, they painted their images on cave walls and entered a nearby waterhole. These paintings were then to be refreshed by Aborigines as a method to regenerate one’s life force. Those who break the law of the land could see punishment from the Wandjina in the forms of floods, lightning, and cyclones.

The artistic style of Wandjina rock art appears from 3800-4000 B.C.E. It is said to have occurred after a millennium-long drought that gave way to a much damper and wet climate demonstrating more frequent monsoons. The depictions are often in black, red, or yellow and usually almost always on a white background. The Wandjina spirits are often depicted either alone or in a group, commonly of three, vertically or horizontally depending on the dimension of the rock being painted on, and sometimes found with figures or objects like yams or Rainbow Serpents.

Most of the time it shows large upper bodies and heads showing eyes and noses, without mouths. This is explained that they are so powerful they do not require speech and if they had mouths, the rains would never cease. The heads are often made of lines or blocks of colors with lighting depicted as coming out of transparent helmets. Each year, the paintings are repainted in December or January to insure the arrival of monsoon rains and some paintings at various sites can be seen as being over 40 layers deep. Newer images appear stockier and some even are painted with eyelashes.

Some modern theories and mythology claim that the Wandjina were ancient astronauts or aliens from outer space. They believe that extraterrestrial beings visited the Earth tens of thousands of years ago, had contact with the peoples living then, and some even believe they had a direct role in the creation of humans and the Earth. Some of these theories place Wandjina’s roles in the Dreamtime stories as proof.

The artistic depictions of aliens today and the Wandjina certainly have great similarities. The questions of why the Wandjinas were depicted with white skin instead of the Aboriginal black skin, why the eyes were dis-apportioned to the rest of the face with no mouth, and them being “sky beings” was another confusion that led to alien theories.

The “sky beings” or “spirits from the clouds” who came down from the Milky Way during Dreamtime and created the Earth and all of its inhabitants is certainly suspicious. The Wandjinas supposedly looked upon the inhabitants of Earth and realized the enormity of the task at hand so had to return home to bring more Wandjinas, with the aid of the Dreamtime snake, they descended and spent their Dreamtime creating, teaching, and being Gods to the Aboriginals whom they created.

They then disappeared, descended into the Earth, and have lived at the bottom of the water source associated with each of the paintings producing new “child-seeds” which are regarded as the source of all human life. Some returned to the skies and can be seen at night as lights moving high above the earth.

As a side note/observation, I once had a vision during a ritual of a group of white-robed white beings who only had eyes and noses (no mouths) (but they were normal human eyes and noses) who came and spoke to me about things … I could hear them like as if talking face-to-face to another human, but I heard them in my mind as they had no mouths. Curious if this could have been the wandjina?

 

References and Bibliography:

 

• Ancient Origins n.d. “Mysterious Aboriginal Rock Art Wandjinas – Extraterrestrial or not?” Web site referenced 7/5/18 at https://www.ancient-origins.net/human-origins-folklore/mysterious-aboriginal-rock-art-wandjinas-extraterrestrial-or-not-00701
• Creative Spirits n.d. “What Are Wandjinas”. Web site referenced 7/5/18 at http://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/arts/what-are-wandjinas
• Poleshift n.d. “Wandjina Rock Art in Kimberley Australia”. Web site referenced 7/5/18 at http://poleshift.ning.com/profiles/blogs/wandjina-rock-art-kimberley-au
• Walia, Arjun 2019 “A 5000-year-old Aboriginal Cave Painting of the Wandjina Known as Sky Beings”. Web site referenced 3/18/2021: https://www.collective-evolution.com/2019/12/30/a-5000-year-old-aboriginal-cave-painting-of-the-wandjina-the-sky-beings/
• Wikipedia n.d. “Wandjina”. Web site referenced 7/5/18 at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wandjina
• Youtube n.d. “Wandjinas”. Web site referenced 7/5/18 at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HBUd_WIjN9g

 

Oweynagat Cave – Cave of the Cats

– Gateway to the Underworld and the Morrigan’s Palace.
Rathcrohan / Roscommon, Ireland

GPS: 53.79677, -8.31038
Article/Research by Thomas Baurley/Leaf McGowan
Techno Tink Media and Research, 10 October 2017

One of my most favorite sites in Ireland is the “Cave of the Cats” underneath the realm of “Rathcrohan“. It is officially called “Oweynagat” and pronounced “Owen-ne-gatt”.

The Cave is also labeled “Uaimh na gCat”, Irish translating to “Cave of the Cats”. When I first visited this site we had a tremendously hard time finding it. We found where it was supposed to be, but it lay behind fencing on a farmer’s field. We knocked on the farmer’s door, and there was no answer. A neighbor saw us, asked what we were doing and who we were, and he showed us the entrance, giving us permission to enter.

It was a small hole under some Fairy thorn trees. The Site is actually a natural narrow limestone cave that hosts a man-made souterrain at its entrance. This is seen by all as the official entrance to the Otherworld and home to the Morrigan or Medh. In the Medieval Period of Ireland, it was labeled “Ireland’s Gate to Hell”. It is a particular sacred site for the Pagan holiday and festival of “Samhain” or Halloween.

It is said that during the Feast of Samhain, the dead, their God/desses, and Spirits, would rise from their graves and walk the Earth. This cave is one of the main places where Spirits and the dead associated with the Fae and/or the Morrigan, would re-surface including creatures, monsters, and the un-dead. There exists an Irish legend based on the “Adventures of Nera” where a warrior is challenged to tie a twig around the ankle of a condemned man on Samhain eve, after agreeing to get him some water would discover strange houses and wouldn’t find water until the third house. Upon returning him back to captivity would witness Rathcroghan’s royal buildings destroyed by the spirits. After this, he must follow the fairy host to the Sidhe where he meets a woman who tells him the vision he saw will happen a year from now unless his mortal comrades are warned. He leaves the Sidhe and informs Ailill of his vision who destroys the Sidhe in response.

Some believe the “síd” or the Sidhe of this tale is either the Mound of Rathcroghan or Oweynagat, the Cave of the Cats. It makes the most sense that the Cave of the Cats is where the destructive creatures and fae emerged. There was a triple-headed monster called the Ellen Trechen that went on a rampage across the country before being killed by Amergin, father of Conal Cernach. There have been tales of small red birds emerging from the cave withering every plant they breathed on before being hunted to their death by the Red Branch. There are also legends of herds of pigs with similar powers of decay emerging from the cave until hunted and killed by Ailill and Medb.

The name itself, “Oweynagat” is believed to refer to the Magical wild cats featured in the tale of “Bricriu’s Feast” that emerge from this cave to attack the three Ulster warriors before being tamed by Cúchulainn. Some also claim that the cave was named after Irusan, the King of the Cats, who is featured in Irish fairy tales and hailed from a cave near Clonmacnoise (her home). Another tale from the 18th century CE tells of a woman trying to catch a runaway cow that fell into this cave (nevermind the entrance being too small) and followed it into this cave. It is said the cow and woman emerged miles away in County Sligo, near Keshcorran. There is also a legend of a woman that was told to have killed a monster cat in this cave, turning the woman into a great warrior, and this is why it’s called “Oweynagat”, Cave of the Cats.

The Birthplace of Medb

It is also believed that this cave is the actual physical birthplace of Queen Medb. The legend states that the Fairy Queen/Goddess Étain who was fleeing her human husband with her fairy lover Midir came here. Midir wanted to visit a relative named Sinech (the large breasted one) who lived in the cave. Within the cave was said to be a great otherworldly palace where a maidservant named Crochan Crogderg (“Blood Red Cup”) lived, and she had granted Midir and Etain entrance. It was here that Crochan was believed to have given birth to a daughter named “Medb“.

The Entrance

Nestled under a fairy tree in a farmer’s field (private property) is a small opening that really only looks large enough for a house cat to fit through. But if a human gets down on their hands and knees, can shimmy into this small hole, they will be presented with a small chamber that connects to a passageway that continually increases to a massive tunnel wider and higher than one could fathom. At the inner lintel of this entrance is an Ogham inscription that bears the words “VRAICCI…MAQI MEDVVI” translating to “FRAECH” and “SON OF MEDB”. Some also translate this to mean “The Pillar of Fraech son of Madb”. This is also seen as the birthplace of Medb. A second ogham inscription, barely visible, reads “QR G SMU” but has not been translated.

This beginning chamber is actually a man-made souterrain at the entrance to a natural narrow limestone cave. The souterrain was originally contained within an earthen mound that was later damaged by a road construction project in the 1930s. The souterrain is made of dry stone walling, orthostats, lintels, and stones that measure approximately 10.5 meters from the entrance to the natural cave’s opening.

The Tunnel

After crawling on one’s hands and feet, the passage increases in width and height, eventually one can stand up, and eventually, the tunnel becomes wide and tall enough that a small Giant could move through it. This is the passage of the Fae and leads to the Morrigan’s Lair. As one continues down, they’ll find a caved in shamble that is behind a muddy pool of water. If one successfully climbs up and over it, the passage continues to another area that is caved in. Apparently, workers on the surface planted a utility pole that collapsed this section of the tunnel. Beyond this is believed to be the Entrance to the Otherworld, and the Morrigan’s Lair. This is actually a natural limestone cave that has been mapped approximately 37 meters deep.

The Morrigan

The Queen of the Dark Fae, the Goddess of the Underworld, of Darkness, and Battle, rules the world of the Fae from this place. It is believed that every Samhain, is pulled on a chariot out of the Cave of the Cats by a one-legged chestnut horse alongside various creatures such as those mentioned above. Some also say on occasion she leaves the cave with a cow, guided by a giant with a forked staff, to give to the Bull of Cúailgne. She is also known to take the bull of a woman named Odras who follows her into the cave before falling under an enchanted sleep upon awakening to see the Morrigan who repeatedly whispers a spell over her, turning her into a river, the same river that feeds the muddy pool at the shamble.

Apparently, the cave is seen as a portal through which the Morrigan would pass in order to work with Medb as Goddess of Battle. She drove her otherworldly cattle into the cave every sunset. The Morrigan was blamed to have stolen a herd of cattle who belonged to a woman named Odras, and upon following to Morrigan to retrieve them, was turned into a lake by the Goddess. As is the story of Nera, a servant of Medb who met a Fairy woman here in this cave. He married her, and she warned him of Medb’s palace being burnt to the ground next to Samhain by the creatures of the otherworld. Upon hearing this, Medb stationed her forces in the cave each Samhain to protect Cruachan from destruction.

Rathcrohan is the legendary burial grounds of the Kings of Connaught. The region covers approximately 518 hectares hosting more than 20 ring forts, burial mounds, megalithic tombs such as the Relig na Ri (burial ground of the Kings), Rath na dTarbh (For the Bulls), and the Rathbeg. The archaeological site is massive, with earthworks spread over the region with the Grave of King Dathi (Last Pagan King of Ireland) as a 2 meter high standing stone being one of the few physical landmarks left that can be seen.

This is also the site of the mythical battle of the “Tain Bo Cuailgne” that remains in the hearts, minds, and folklore of the people of Tulsk and Rathcroghan recorded in the Ancient Irish Epic of the Tain Bo Cuiailgne, the “Cattle Raid of Cooley”. The Tain Bo tells the story of Queen Maeve of Connaught and her armies that pursued the Grat Brown Bull of Cooley, the mighty warrior Cuchulain who does battle with the armies here, and his foster brother Erdia as he defends the Brown Bull and the province of Ulster. There are a “Tain Trail Cycling and Touring Route” that re-traces the journey that Queen Maeve and her armies traveled from her Royal Palace at Rathcroghan across Ireland to the Cooley Peninsula in County Louth, the home of the Brown Bull. Rathcrohan hosts over 60 National Monuments here.

Bibliography/References:

• Druid School: Oweynagat Cave of the Cats. Website referenced January 2012.

• Fenwick, J. et al 1977 “Oweynagat”. Irish Speleology 16, 11-14.

• Hannon, Ed 2012 “Visions of the Past: Oweynagat Cave”. Website referenced 10/10/17 at https://visionsofthepastblog.com/2012/10/01/oweynagat-cave-souterrain-co-roscommon/.

• Mulranney, R. n.d “Caves of Ireland: Oweynagat Cave of the Cats”. Website referenced 10/10/17 at https://cavesofireland.wordpress.com/home/caves/oweynagat-cave-of-the-cats-co-roscommon/.

• Waddell, J. 1983 “Rathcroghan – A Royal Site”. Journal of Irish Archaeology 1.

• Wikipedia n.d. “Rathcroghan”. Website referenced 10/10/17 at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rathcroghan.

 

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Photos and Tales to come – coming soon ….

Story of the Bridge of the Gods: Geologically this is one of the shortest crossing areas between Oregon and Washington over the Columbia River. It is believed that a thousand years ago there was a massive landslide from the north shore of the Columbia River that slid into the river and blocked the Gorge.

It created a natural dam and inland sea that extended between Oregon, Washington, and Idaho. As river pressures began carving out natural bridges and tunnels under this landslide to outlet into the Pacific, eventually the blockage dam was washed away. Some say it originally carved a large natural stone bridge that the Native Americans believed was created by the Gods. Legend has it this land bridge eventually collapsed back into the Columbia River, destroying the inland sea, and creating the Cascade rapids.

Native American legends tell a tale that the Great Spirit Manito created this bridge so his peoples of the Columbia River could cross the river from bank to bank, and it was so-called the “Giant Crossover”. This Great Spirit assigned the Wise woman Guardian Loo-Wit to watch over it and protect the river, bridge, and peoples of the area. Out of fear and respect for the Great Spirit, the tribes would appeal for protection while crossing the river. It was eventually called the “Bridge of the Gods” translated and nicknamed as such by the white westerners who came through the area.

Manito had sent his sons to earth – the three great mountains: Multnomah the Warrior (Mt. Rainier), Klickitat the totem maker (Mt. Adams), and Wyeast, the singer (Mt. Hood) who all presided over the river and the bridge peacefully for many years until the beautiful Squaw Mountain moved into the valley between Klickitat and Wyeast. She fell in love with Wyeast while still flirting with Klickitat, causing rivalry and jealousy between the two causing the mountains to fight over her. Their arguing, growling, trembling, and feuds caused lava, ash, and earthquakes to form in their path – and each other hurling white hot rocks at each other. This destroyed the forests, environment, and beauty of the valley – and broke the bridge causing it to fall into the river never to be seen again.

Manito was so upset by this, he formed huge rapids in the Columbia River to separate the feuding brothers. Klickitat won Squaw Mountain’s heart and Wyeast admitted defeat, much to the dismay of Squaw who loved him so, and although at the side of Klickitatt with a heavy broken heart, became depressed and fell into a deep permanent sleep and sits today as “Sleeping Beauty” lying just west of Mt. Adams.

Klickitat under such shock from Squaw’s depression, once with a high straight head like Wyeast, fell with grief that he dropped his head in shame and never raised it again. Loo-Wit got caught up in the cross-fire during this battle and fell with the bridge. the Great Spirit rewarded her with a wish, and she asked to be made young and beautiful again – but being old, she did not require companionship so chose a lonely location. She became the most beautiful of all mountains and made her home far west as the beautiful and powerful Mount Saint Helens.

Photos and Tales to come – coming soon…

Story of the Bridge of the Gods: Geologically this is one of the shortest crossing areas between Oregon and Washington over the Columbia River. It is believed that a thousand years ago there was a massive landslide from the north shore of the Columbia River that slid into the river and blocked the Gorge. It created a natural dam and inland sea that extended between Oregon, Washington, and Idaho.

As river pressures began carving out natural bridges and tunnels under this landslide to outlet into the Pacific, eventually the blockage dam was washed away. Some say it originally carved a large natural stone bridge that the Native Americans believed was created by the Gods. Legend has it this land bridge eventually collapsed back into the Columbia River, destroying the inland sea, and creating the Cascade rapids.

Native American legends tell a tale that the Great Spirit Manito created this bridge so his peoples of the Columbia River could cross the river from bank to bank, and it was so-called the “Giant Crossover”. This Great Spirit assigned the Wise woman Guardian Loo-Wit to watch over it and protect the river, bridge, and peoples of the area. Out of fear and respect for the Great Spirit, the tribes would appeal for protection while crossing the river. It was eventually called the “Bridge of the Gods” translated and nicknamed as such by the white westerners who came through the area.

Manito had sent his sons to earth – the three great mountains: Multnomah the Warrior (Mt. Rainier), Klickitat the totem maker (Mt. Adams), and Wyeast, the singer (Mt. Hood) who all presided over the river and the bridge peacefully for many years until the beautiful Squaw Mountain moved into the valley between Klickitat and Wyeast. She fell in love with Wyeast while still flirting with Klickitat, causing rivalry and jealousy between the two causing the mountains to fight over her. Their arguing, growling, trembling, and feuds caused lava, ash, and earthquakes to form in their path – and each other hurling white hot rocks at each other. This destroyed the forests, environment, and beauty of the valley – and broke the bridge causing it to fall into the river never to be seen again.

Manito was so upset by this, he formed huge rapids in the Columbia River to separate the feuding brothers. Klickitat won Squaw Mountain’s heart and Wyeast admitted defeat, much to the dismay of Squaw who loved him so, and although at the side of Klickitatt with a heavy broken heart, became depressed and fell into a deep permanent sleep and sits today as “Sleeping Beauty” lying just west of Mt. Adams. Klickitat under such shock from Squaw’s depression, once with a high straight head like Wyeast, fell with grief that he dropped his head in shame and never raised it again.

Loo-Wit got caught up in the cross-fire during this battle and fell with the bridge. the Great Spirit rewarded her with a wish, and she asked to be made young and beautiful again – but being old, she did not require companionship so chose a lonely location. She became the most beautiful of all mountains and made her home far west as the beautiful and powerful Mount Saint Helens.