The Cruel Sister

“Breadcrumbs, as you like to say, Love.”

 

The Cruel Sister

There lived a lady by the north sea shore
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
Twa daughters were the bairns she bore
Fa la la la la la la la la la

One was as bright as is the sun
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
Sae coal black grew the elder one
Fa la la la la la la la la la

A knight came riding to the ladies’ door
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
He travelled far to be their wooer
Fa la la la la la la la la la

He courted one, aye with gloves and rings
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
But he loved the other above all things
Fa la la la la la la la la la

“Sister, sister won’t you walk with me
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
An’ see the ships sail upon sea?”
Fa la la la la la la la la la

And as they stood on that windy shore
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
The elder sister pushed the younger o’er
Fa la la la la la la la la la

Sometimes she sank or sometimes she swam
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
Crying, “Sister, reach to me your hand”
Fa la la la la la la la la la

And there she floated just like a swan
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
The salt sea carried her body on
Fa la la la la la la la la la

Two minstrels walking by the north sea strand
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
They saw the maiden, aye float to land
Fa la la la la la la la la la

They made a harp out of her breast bone
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
The sound of which would melt a heart of stone
Fa la la la la la la la la la

They took three locks of her yellow hair
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
And wi’ them strung that harp so rare
Fa la la la la la la la la la

The first string that those minstrels tried
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
Then terror seized the black-haired bride
Fa la la la la la la la la la

The second string played a doleful sound
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
“The younger sister, oh she is drowned”
Fa la la la la la la la la la

The third string, it played beneath their bow
Lay the bairn tae the bonnie broom
“And surely now her tears will flow”
Fa la la la la la la la la la

Pathways

I asked for clarification on my path/studies the day before yesterday. I have since dreamed of literally going down into darkness for the third time. Last night I dreamt of being a “death talker” and the dream involved “taking in” the Spirits of the Dead so they could speak. There were also dogs again in the dream about going down into the Earth, into Darkness. Last night while poking around Pinterest when I couldn’t sleep I had suggestions for Nantosuelta and Sucelles. On Facebook this morning I came across a photograph of mushrooms growing from a deer skeleton. Will need to ponder a bit before I take any actions in regards to the Dead. Will be poking into Gaulish things and say hello again to The Mother of Rot.

Comments from the page Magic Mushrooms that posted it:

Interesting… It looks like whatever this deer was eating, most likely plant matter of sorts, had mushroom spores on it, ended up germenating inside the deers stomach, then fruited after the deer had died and decayed.
Photo courtesy of Lain Haigh.

This might also be of note, a couole weeks ago I first noticed that White Wings was back in the area. She(could be a he for all I know) was born or appeared about three years ago. I’m not sure if I don’t see her during the warmer months because she actually goes somewhere or if I’m just too busy to actually see her. She is a crow with white flight feathers and a mostly white tail. I managed to get some pictures, not the best quality but not too bad in regards to cell phone pictures. 

Crom Cruach: The Dark God of the Burial Mound. — Unchaining The Titan. *Reblog*

Yeah…just gonna leave this here…

 

A better man than I has said elsewhere: “Crom is my god…Crom is the god I need because he is the opposite of the interventionist gods who care about the petty details of men’s lives. You don’t pray to him, because he probably won’t listen, and if he hears you, he probably won’t even pretend […]

via Crom Cruach: The Dark God of the Burial Mound. — Unchaining The Titan.

Mother

Mother Morrigan whispered to me, was it today? Perhaps yesterday? My sense of time is terrible at the best of times. I digress though, She whispered to me, as I looked at the gorgeous new black with red flower dishware my hubby(the mortal one) bought us recently. 

“Hard times are coming My child.”

Sometimes when She speaks She reminds me of how black Southern women are sometimes portrayed. (She shifts into Voodoo/Houdou quite easily for me). Child came out more like “chile”.

Her wings are strong and bear me up.

“There’s a storm coming chile…

She’s straight out of New Orleans now.

Well the storm hit about an hour ago. I’m hoping I can stop crying now. I may or may not share details since it’s really super private personal stuff. But yeah. There has been much ugly but quiet crying. I LOATHE CRYING. Now my sinuses are plugged and my eye balls feel like they might pop out of my head from the sinus pressure. Ugh. All will be well, nothing life threatening going on or anything. Just some heavy emotional shit going on right now.

Thank You, Mother, for the warning. Thank You for holding me in this storm.

On The Nature of Grief 

On The Nature of Grief 

“One down, two to go.”

It is Hermes that tells me this. Apparently grieving works the same way quitting smoking did for me. It comes in threes.

“It’s the first three days that are the worst. It all comes in threes; Three days, three months, three years, and so on.”

As the sun sets tonight it is the end of the first 24 hours “after”. I’ve never dealt with the death of a loved one like this. My cousin was killed two years ago by a workplace accident, it was awful but we all knew how dangerous his job was. Elderly grandparents who when they are gone you miss but their death was “expected”. Perhaps that is the lesson to take from this grief, well it would be more of refresher. Everything dies. It’s just a matter of when. Your love for them cannot stop this. I’ve mourned a child lost before we had the chance to bring them into the world. I’ve mourned the loss of a close friends still born baby. Lives that ended before they had a chance to really begin. So you’d think that someone dying in their early twenties would be easier somehow. I’m not sure what I mourn the most. The loss of her physical presence or the lost chance of a child to know his mother. The Ancient Irish had written into the Brehon Law that a person could not be prosecuted for any wrong doing(including murdering someone thought to be involved) during the first three days of mourning. One was considered essentially mad with grief and unable to be held accountable for their actions. I get it. There are so many illogical things I wish to do right now. Yell at her parents because no one told me, but what mother would be thinking about that when one of their children is dead. I want to find her son and bring him home to live with us. Fly down to where she is buried so I can weep and keen at her graveside. When my period of intense mourning is done and I feel stronger physically I plan to do some trance work to ensure that she has passed on properly and peacefully and to say my own good byes. I know she still lives and I know I will see her again; Doesn’t help me now though.