Divinations for a Month February 16 – March 16

I’ll be reposting this through the month as a reminder :)

I’m being Asked to provide divinations via tarot for the next month (I’m figuring until the middle of March). These will be free for that month, and if I decide to continue doing them afterwards, I will begin charging for them.

The default spreads I will be using are the Celtic Cross and World Tree. However, if your question requires it, a more appropriate spread will be used, whether if it’s by request or a suggestion I will make.

I will read for just about any question, however health questions are not something I do. I am not a doctor, and even if I were, I cannot see you in person and actually see what’s going on.

You can send me a reply to this post, or you can email me at theforestwitch@live.com.

February for Manannan – 28 A Final Image

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Manannan mac Lir by Carolina Gonzalez

February for Manannan – 27 An Image

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Manannan mac Lir by vamp babe - http://vampbabe.deviantart.com

February for Manannan – 26 A Story

From Lady Gregory’s Gods and Fighting Men, (1904).

Part I Book IV: Call to Connla

AND it is likely it was Manannan sent his messenger for Connla of the Red Hair the time he went away out of Ireland, for it is to his country Connla was brought; and this is the way he got the call.

It chanced one day he was with his father Conn, King of Team-hair, on the Hill of Uisnach, and he saw a woman having wonderful clothing coming towards him. “Where is it you come from?” he asked her. “I come,” she said, “from Tir-nam-Beo, the Land of the Ever-Living Ones, where no death comes. We use feasts that are lasting,” she said, “and we do every kind thing without quarrelling, and we are called the people of the Sidhe.” “Who are you speaking to, boy?” said Conn to him then, for no one saw the strange woman but only Connla. “He is speaking to a high woman that death or old age will never come to,” she said. “I am asking him to come to Magh Mell, the Pleasant Plain where the triumphant king is living, and there he will be a king for ever without sorrow or fret. Come with me, Connla of the Red Hair,” she said, “of the fair freckled neck and of the ruddy cheek; come with me, and your body will not wither from its youth and its comeliness for ever.”

They could all hear the woman’s words then, though they could not see her, and it is what Conn said to Coran his Druid: “Help me, Coran, you that sing spells of the great arts. There is an attack made on me that is beyond my wisdom and beyond my power, I never knew so strong an attack since the first day I was a king. There is an unseen figure fighting with me; she is using her strength against me to bring away my beautiful son; the call of a woman is bringing him away from the hands of the king.”

Then Coran, the Druid, began singing spells against the woman of the Sidhe, the way no one would hear her voice, and Connla could not see her any more. But when she was being driven away by the spells of the Druid, she threw an apple to Connla.

And through the length of a month from that time, Connla used no other food nor drink but that apple, for he thought no other food or drink worth the using. And for all he ate of it, the apple grew no smaller, but was whole all the while. And there was great trouble on Connla on account of the woman he had seen.

And at the end of a month Connla was at his father’s side in Magh Archomnim, and he saw the same woman coming towards him, and it is what she said: “It is a high place indeed Connla has among dying people, and death before him. But the Ever-Living Ones,” she said, “are asking you to take the sway over the people of Tethra, for they are looking at you every day in the gatherings of your country among your dear friends.”

When Conn, the king, heard her voice, he said to his people: “Call Coran, the Druid to me, for I hear the sound of the woman’s voice again.” But on that she said: “O Conn, fighter of a hundred, it is little love and little respect the wonderful tribes of Traig Mor, the Great Strand, have for Druids; and where its law comes, it scatters the spells on their lips.”

Then Conn looked to his son Connla to see what he would say, and Connla said: “My own people are dearer to me than any other thing, yet sorrow has taken hold of me because of this woman.” Then the woman spoke to him again, and it is what she said: “Come now into my shining ship, if you will come to the Plain of Victory. There is another country it would not be worse for you to look for; though the bright sun is going down, we shall reach to that country before night. That is the country that delights the mind of every one that turns to me. There is no living race in it but women and girls only.”

And when the woman had ended her song, Connla made a leap from his people into the shining boat, and they saw him sailing away from them far off and as if in a mist, as far as their eyes could see. It is away across the sea they went, and they have never come back again, and only the gods know where was it they went.

February for Manannan – 25 A Poem

Land of Legends

by Stephen Lewis Ingham Pettit

Some say in the distant dawn the giant hand
of Finn MacCumhal* once hurled this land –
(a tiny clod of earth, to him)
and missed his Scottish foe;

so here it lies, an island given birth
by superhuman force, between old kingdoms.
But how grand, to us, this realm of mountain shapes
and sunset skies and racing shadows!
A place of faery pastures,
of golden gorse,
of cairns of olden tyme and tales of long ago.

Yet we who dwell here know
we set our feet where once immortals trod,
who left their magic here. Here –
is the sometime throne of the ocean god,
Mannanan,
by which his cloak of mists invisible became
a plaything of his starry will- Here,
every mountain rill
whispers enchantment still,
murmurs the old god’s name.

2nd June, 1973 (*Pronounced MacCool)

February for Manannan – 23 A Song

Hail Manannan
by Coyote Bird’s Flame

Hail Manannan, Son of the Sea,
Father of mist and tender of dreams,
Lord of all worlds, I call unto Thee
Lend a branch of silver to me.

With golden apples and delicate chime
To part the veil ‘tween space and time.
O Thou who art our guide divine
Lead us true, our imbas to find.

There is a well nine hazel trees ring,
that cast their fruits in the sacred spring,
Where salmon swim and silver birds sing
Five streams from there Thy wisdom do bring.

If imbas you seek for song and for spell
Drink ye deep from both streams and well.
Now travel by star, by wave, and by swell
In Tir na n’Og does Manannan dwell.

With Manannan’s branch assured is our way.
We of good heart we never shall stray.
From dusk til dawn, tween night and day
Lead ever true, for this we do pray.

From isle to isle and from shore to shore,
We wind a path through the ancient lore.
From river to stream, from loch to moor,
O Son of the Sea, Thy mist we adore.

February for Manannan – 21 Happy News!

They’ve found the statue!!

Now, let’s hope they can find the fuckers who did it!

Here’s the link.

I’d write more, but I’m sick for the third time this year. Yes. Sick thrice in the period of two months. Blech. This cold isn’t as bad as the first and definitely not as bad as the stomach bug, but still.

I will finish out the month of Manannan posts, so stay tuned!

Joy is Sacred

Originally posted on Loki's Bruid:

Joy is sacred, He said, and I didn’t understand. Isn’t all of this serious stuff? Shouldn’t I be in awe and terror of You?

Do you respect Me? Do you take Me seriously when I need you do that?

Yes. I’d ignore You at my own peril.

I don’t want fear or cowering or stoicism or even peril. I want your joy.

Aren’t I supposed to be dignified or some such shit?

What makes you think that joy is undignified? Joy is openness. Joy is being present. I desire your presence.

But people are afraid of You. Hel, I’ve been afraid of You.

I dunno why, sweetheart. I’ve been nothing but nice to you.

I didn’t know You were nice then.

Bullshit.

Fine. YOU are unnervingly open, how about that?

That’s really your problem with you.

And that gives You joy?

Your problems with yourself?

No, your unnerving…

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