Mabh Savage
Words and the world passing by; how it sings to me; how I clamour back.
Relax
I’ve written and sung about being motivated, keeping the nose to the grindstone, and being true to one’s goals and desires. Today however, I’m happy to not push myself. I didn’t sleep well. Simple tasks are tricky. I curdled mustard sauce and was fooled by a pink pheasant. I stalled the car and forgot how to change gear. I forgot a friend’s birthday. I miscalculated funds and budgets and generally got myself into a bit of a tizzy. So this evening, I’m giving myself a break. I’m permitting myself an extension, and my goal is set by next weekend, not tonight. After all, I’ve only got myself to answer to. I hope I don’t get me into trouble!
The Baker
Doughy warmth and rising
Yeasty goodness drifting
Longingly through the house
Luring family back
From their endeavours
To the kitchen
Asking what it is
What’s that smell
Home and love
And dreams of full bellies
Time taken, effort,
Achievement and completion
Some just starting,
Some still cooking
Apron hung as cup of tea
By another’s hand finally
Falls into yours.
Sunrise
Orange streaking wonder like
Across the boards of blue
Calling unto you
Twanging every string
In the guitar of your soul
Alto cumulus
Herring backed and tickled pink
Perfect little lines
Framing the moon:
An absurdly gorgeous half
Smooth and sharply cut
A wedge of light
The opener
Before the main event.
The globe of yellow honey
Melting on the marshmallows
Of soft and drowsy clouds
Still awakening,
And gently gliding aside
Until gentle no more
The show hits the floor
The light, the bright, the glory ending night;
Sunrise.
The Power of Prophecy
Throughout the Celtic legends there are references to prophecies, futures foretold and promises made by victors and losers alike. One of the most famous prophecies by the Morrigan is told at the end of Cath Maige Tuired, the great battle that Lugh wins against the Fomorians, and is conflicting at best. Elizabeth Gray’s translation tells us that the first section prophecies a time of fullness and peace, but then the Morrigan goes on to foretell doom, betrayal, and the end of the world. In Tain Bo Cualnge (translation Cecille O’Rahilly, 1976), Queen Medb demands a poetess to divine the fate of her army in the upcoming battle against the Ulster men. The prophetess does as she is told but Medb is not happy, as she discovers, although she does not believe it, that her army will be greatly reduced by the power of one young man. Prophecy of this kind is indeed a double edged sword; sometimes simply hearing the prophecy can be the spark that makes it come true, and sometimes doing everything one can to avoid the outcome of the prophecy can cut the very rut that holds the wheels of fate. Medb, in a way, does exactly what she should do which is to ignore the prophecy and carry on towards the battle field, but in this case the prophecy is not self-fulfilling, and Cu Chulainn is indeed the young lad that will see the host blood stained and red. So what should Medb have done? Taken her army home? What do we do, when faced with the promise of failure? Do we give up? Or do we fight in the face of adversity? Well, each of us will have our own answer for that, and I for one know there have been times when I know that continuing to fight is not the best course of action, and indeed sometimes backing down, though it may hurt the pride and ego, will be less painful in the long run.
(c) 2012, excerpt from A Modern Celt, Mabh Savage
Hey
Hey
Miss it once
Hey
Look up
Two jackdaws in a sycamore tree
One edged along the main branch
Blinking down at me in curiosity
Sharing the autumn sun
All three cloaked against the autumn wind
The two birds aren’t hunting
Or foraging
Simply resting and being;
At the most, marking their territory:
Enjoying their existence
Reminding me not to feel guilty
About doing the same.
Spirituality or Practicality?
The Romans are said to have been astonished by the range of gods and spirits the Celtic peoples honoured, yet the Celts were feared for their prowess in war, helped mightily by their ability to travel far across land and sea. So they were a practical people, who used their stories and legends as a way to record their exploits and indeed I suppose spread fear and wonder at their apparently supernatural existence. Knowing the world, and how it turned, and how to live well in it whether through winter or summer, was a crucial part of this. For me, feeling the world turn around you is a combination of both spirituality and practicality; having a balance between appreciating what’s there and where it’s taking you, is key. Being closer to the earth, how it works, how things grow, helps us understand that we have a responsibility towards it; it’s not ours, but we are a part of it, and because we take so much from it, we really have to give something back! I think some people find conflict between following a pagan path and being part of modern society. Many of us lay claim to a harmony with nature and the earth, then drive miles and miles to get to some gathering or other, pumping out pollutants and notching up that ever present carbon footprint! Yet I think it’s important to remember that everything is about balance, using what you have, when you have to, and ensuring that any “bad” behaviour is offset in some way. Many people I know drive miles to get to farms and campsites for various events, yet most of those people are also deeply involved in the conservation of the area, the promotion of living spaces for local wildlife and the prevention of the destruction of natural habitats for the creatures that already reside there. So there is no spurning of modern society and little hypocrisy, just a genuine desire to better understand the natural world, become a part of it rather than just living of it, and perhaps get a glimpse of life as it is without the trample of busy human feet.
excerpt from A Modern Celt (c) 2012
Footprints
The sun rises; the sun sets.
It is another day.
Another path to tread,
To leave footprints in the dirt.
Or to pass unnoticed.
Counting only seconds
Only minutes
Held not within the turn of the earth
But trapped within the turn of the clock.
When sirens speak
To start your day
With clamour abhorrent
While you still lay
Clinging to dreams and wishes and fear;
Then rise and wake and listen.
Not because the alarm tells you to;
Not because it is routine;
Not because you follow another
But simply so at the end of another day
You may turn behind
And see with pride
The footprints left firmly marked
Where you have walked.
inspired by dear friends (c) 2012
Fluffy Clouds
Somebody needs to invent a chair that is like sitting on a fluffy little cloud. Every part of me would be perfectly supported and there would be no need for sensible stretch breaks or time away from my luminous screen which would of course be filtered through dragonfly wings to keep the glare from melting my overworked retina. I love writing so much but really, the human body was not designed to sit down this much! Thank goodness for my phone and the ability to take voice memos.But then noooo- I have to type them up! Gosh, hark at me, complaining about sitting down. Think I’ll go get a cuppa and think about what I’ve done…
Mabh Savage 