Grian-Stad Geamhraidh 2015

 Original images by Michael Kehoe and Susan

I changed very little from Carmichael's translation in the first half of this. Mostly I cut the "thees" and "thous". It's more in the second half where Carmichael's biases showed, in his choosing to translate "rìoghain òg" as "queenly maiden," whereas the meaning is more like "young queen" or "youthful queen."

As the goddesses with solar attributes are also associated with sovereignty,* this seems an odd change on his part. "Queenly Maiden" scans really well, though, so maybe poetic license also figured into it. One hopes. But it's not the only time Carmichael downgraded a goddess or spirit-woman this way. His collections of Gaelic prayers, songs, poetry and lore are invaluable, but between some sexism on his part and his atrocious handwriting, his translations always need to be checked. 

*At least in Áine's case. We really know very little about Grian. We are not even sure she was seen as a goddess. The idea of her being a goddess or powerful spirit-woman (and not just the name of the sun itself) is largely based on her having a hill near Áine's, and there being folklore that describes them as sisters. Beyond that, there are parallels in the Scottish "two suns" idea, so some of this is reconstructed and supported by shared visions, and not necessarily written in stone, per se. For more on Midwinter in the Gaelic lands, Áine and Grian, and our other main Scottish winter festival, Hogmanay, see our Winter playlist:

Grianstad an Gheimhridh (Winter Solstice) and Hogmanay

Fàs is gnàths is toradh
growth, tradition, success 

On Hogmanay morn, we gather water from under the bridge, which became
"a dead and living ford" the first time we brought a deer carcass across,
and which has now witnessed the passage of several of our beloved dead. 
photo copyright ©2014 kpn

The winter snows have come, the nights are long and cold. We gather with our loved ones and hold each other close.

Yes, we've made more Gaol Naofa videos :)  Annie took point on these, and we have her lovely photos from Newgrange and other sacred sites in Ireland and Scotland. For those of Scottish heritage who may not have known why secular/calendar New Year's Eve is a big deal in our families of origin, we have the answer: Hogmanay.

Hogmanay is a time for saining the house and welcoming in the New Year. While the dour Celtic mindset supports the idea of beginning the year at the falling darkness of Samhain, there is something about the Winter Solstice sunrise that lights a spark in my heart: The longest night of the year is broken by the rising sun, shining down the long passage at Brú na Bóinne, bringing light to the ancestors and announcing that now the days will grow longer, bit by bit, until warmth and green return to the land.

As a people who see time as a circle, and spirit as eternal while only matter rises and falls, dies and is born again, I'm not particularly interested in the debates about which day is "The Celtic New Year." Arguments can be made for pretty much any point in the cycle, depending on one's work, where one lives, and which deities and spirits are most important to us. 

The phrase  "Fàs is gnàths is toradh (Growth, custom, and fertility)" is traditionally said by the head of the household as they bring a twig from a local fruit-bearing tree inside to the breakfast feast. It is customary to sain one another and entire house at this time, with water from "a dead and living ford" (a watercourse over which both the living and dead pass), and to fill the house with so much juniper smoke that everyone begins to cough. This means that all your smoke alarms will also be going off. I consider it part of the festivities. But any of the alarms that are hooked into a security system will need to be turned off. Trust me, your local firefighters will appreciate being spared the false alarm. If you forget and they show up anyway, you can consider it a bizarre variation on first-footing. Make sure to offer them abundant hospitality.

As everyone is coughing and the alarms are blaring, it is time to fling open the doors and windows and welcome in the brisk, cold air of New Year's morning. We do a brief welcome and prayer in Gaelic at each door and window we fling open, welcoming the household's guardian spirits and the qualities we hope for in the coming year. It is customary at this time for the hearthkeeper of the household to offer everyone a nip of whisky. As a sober household, we use strong, alder-roasted or hazelnut coffee and espresso chocolate.

Then everyone sits down to a big breakfast, which symbolizes the abundance we hope for in the coming year.

Good Hogmanay to our Gaol Naofa family and extended community!
Fàs is gnàths is toradh!

For an abundance of lore and more suggestions for celebrations, see Annie's collection of links to her articles and research. 

 

Sith co nemh, bid sír nae. Sith.

  Winter Solstice sunrise at Brú na Bóinne

Sith co nem.
Nem co doman.
Doman fo ním,

Nert hi cach, án forlann,
lan do mil, mid co saith.
Sam hi ngam, gai for sciath,
sciath for durnd.

Dunad lonngarg; longait-tromfoíd
fod di uí, ross forbiur
benna abu, airbe imetha.

Mess for crannaib, craob do scis
scis do áss, saith do mac
mac for muin, muinel tairb
tarb di arccoin, odhb do crann,
crann do ten.

Tene a nn-ail. Ail a n-uír
uích a mbuaib, boinn a mbru.
Brú lafefaid
ossglas iaer errach,
foghamar forasit etha.

Iall do tir,
tir co trachd lafeabrae.
Bidruad rossaib, síraib rithmár,
'Nach scel laut?'

Sith co nemh,
bidsirnae.
.s.


Peace to the sky.
Sky to the earth.
Earth under sky,

Strength in us all, a cup so full,
full of honey, mead in plenty.
Summer in winter, spear over shield,
shield strong in hand.

Fort of fierce spears; a battle-cry
land for sheep, bountiful forests
mountains forever, magic enclosure.

Nuts on branches, branches heavy
heavy with fruit, wealth for a son
a gifted son, strong back of bull
a bull for a poem, a knot on a tree,
wood for the fire.

Fire from the stone. Stone from the Earth
wealth from cows, from the womb of Boann.
From the mist comes the cry of the doe,
a stream of deer after springtime,
corn in autumn, upheld by peace.

A warrior band for the land,
prosperous land, reaching to the shore.
From wooded headlands, waters rushing,
"What news have you?"

Peace to the sky,
life and land everlasting.
Peace.

From the Prophecy of An Morrígan, in "Prayer in Gaelic Polytheism". The original Old Irish, as a solid block of text with few line breaks, is in the public domain; this arrangement and translation copyright ©2012 Kathryn Price NicDhàna for Gaol Naofa. See the article for extensive footnotes delineating how I arrived at this translation. Any errors in translation are my own.

And Check out Treasa's excellent writeup on some of the Gaelic sacred sites and spirits associated with this time of year: Celebrating Grianstad an Gheimhridh (The Winter Solstice)

Grian-Stad Geamhraidh: A' Ghrian

Fàilte ort féin, a ghrian nan tràth,

'S tu siubhail ard nan speur;

Do cheumaibh treun air sgéith nan ard,

'S tu màthair àigh nan reul. 

Thu laighe sìos an cuan na dìth

Gun dìobhail is gun sgàth,

Thu 'g éirigh suas air stuagh na sìth,

Mar rìoghain òg fo bhlàth.

A' Ghrian - Traditional Gaelic song to the sun, 
from the original Gàidhlig, as recited by Iain MacNìll of Barra,
at the turn of the century before last.

#317 in the Ortha nan Gàidheal. 

And in English:

The Sun

I welcome you, sun of the seasons,

As you travel the skies aloft;

Your steps are strong on the wing of the heavens,

You are the glorious mother of the stars.

You descend into the deadly sea

Without distress and without fear;

You rise up on the wave of peace,

Like a youthful Queen in bloom.

translation ©2009 kpn

Grian-Stad Geamhraidh: A' Ghrian

Fàilte ort féin, a ghrian nan tràth,

'S tu siubhail ard nan speur;

Do cheumaibh treun air sgéith nan ard,

'S tu màthair àigh nan reul. 

Thu laighe sìos an cuan na dìth

Gun dìobhail is gun sgàth,

Thu 'g éirigh suas air stuagh na sìth,

Mar rìoghain òg fo bhlàth.

A' Ghrian - Traditional Gaelic song to the sun, 
from the original Gàidhlig, as recited by Iain MacNìll of Barra,
at the turn of the century before last.

#317 in the Ortha nan Gàidheal. 

And in English:

The Sun

I welcome you, sun of the seasons,

As you travel the skies aloft;

Your steps are strong on the wing of the heavens,

You are the glorious mother of the stars.

You descend into the deadly sea

Without distress and without fear;

You rise up on the wave of peace,

Like a youthful Queen in bloom.

translation ©2009 kpn