Imbolc story by Kieron, 1992
Posted: Sat Jan 04, 1992 11:00 pm
Apparently penned by Kieron Romanson, this text about Imbolg is the first page of the January 4, 1992 minutes. It is incomplete, and ends at a comma. The other side of the page is printed minutes. If the rest of the story is found it will be added here.
Fire shattered the night. And hard on its heels came the drums. Drums so loud they seemed to break apart the very air. Was it an attack? On this, the very eve of Imbolg? Kieron bolted upright from his bed; only to fall back with a groan. The bright morning sun shone through the open window. Then the hand came up, holding a pillow over his head. The shadow fell across his eyes and gave welcome relief to a brain still trying to cope with the Ard Draoi's latest batch of Bhriain.
When the animals started producing the milk that was to see their expected young and the Clann through the winter everyone realized that Imbolg was near, even though the sun could hardly be seen through the persistent cloud cover. Then the first lambs of the season were born only two days before the Festival of Brid itself. The omens were looking so favorable that the kitchens were raided and the barrels tapped several days early; much to the consternation of the kitchen staff, who now had to work twice as hard as they had originally planned. Right now though, the omens didn't look overly favorable, and one groan that sounded particularly Trelvis-like seemed to agree with this assessment. In an attempt to get his bearings Kieron let his mind wander back over Imbolg festivals past.
"Imbolg", Kieron remembered his teacher stating to a group of neophytes, "is the Festival of Lights. It is so cold", replied the old Druid (with a "Why me?" look heavenward) "because the sun has not yet gained its full strength. You can see how it's getting stronger, can't you? The sun staying longer and longer in the sky each passing day? (Here he paused until there was a sufficient number of heads nodding agreement before continuing on.) That is why we place the emphasis of our ceremonies upon light rather than heat.
It is also the festival of the goddess Brighid or Brid as our Irish friends call her. The daughter of the Dagda, she is the goddess of fire, inspiration, healing, and craftsmanship. She is the patroness of poets, smiths and other craftsmen, doctors, the hearth, and druid.
She is also a goodess of Sovereignty. Indeed, the criterion of a rightful king is that the land should be prosperous and inviolate under his rule - and this can only be accomplished if he is accepted by the goddess as her legitimate spouse."
The pounding in his head easing a little, Kieron remembered one of the tales of Brighid. Brid, as the daughter of the Dagda, married Bres of the Fomors for dynastic reasons and bore him a son,
The text ends abruptly here and the other side of the page has the opening minutes from the meeting.
Fire shattered the night. And hard on its heels came the drums. Drums so loud they seemed to break apart the very air. Was it an attack? On this, the very eve of Imbolg? Kieron bolted upright from his bed; only to fall back with a groan. The bright morning sun shone through the open window. Then the hand came up, holding a pillow over his head. The shadow fell across his eyes and gave welcome relief to a brain still trying to cope with the Ard Draoi's latest batch of Bhriain.
When the animals started producing the milk that was to see their expected young and the Clann through the winter everyone realized that Imbolg was near, even though the sun could hardly be seen through the persistent cloud cover. Then the first lambs of the season were born only two days before the Festival of Brid itself. The omens were looking so favorable that the kitchens were raided and the barrels tapped several days early; much to the consternation of the kitchen staff, who now had to work twice as hard as they had originally planned. Right now though, the omens didn't look overly favorable, and one groan that sounded particularly Trelvis-like seemed to agree with this assessment. In an attempt to get his bearings Kieron let his mind wander back over Imbolg festivals past.
"Imbolg", Kieron remembered his teacher stating to a group of neophytes, "is the Festival of Lights. It is so cold", replied the old Druid (with a "Why me?" look heavenward) "because the sun has not yet gained its full strength. You can see how it's getting stronger, can't you? The sun staying longer and longer in the sky each passing day? (Here he paused until there was a sufficient number of heads nodding agreement before continuing on.) That is why we place the emphasis of our ceremonies upon light rather than heat.
It is also the festival of the goddess Brighid or Brid as our Irish friends call her. The daughter of the Dagda, she is the goddess of fire, inspiration, healing, and craftsmanship. She is the patroness of poets, smiths and other craftsmen, doctors, the hearth, and druid.
She is also a goodess of Sovereignty. Indeed, the criterion of a rightful king is that the land should be prosperous and inviolate under his rule - and this can only be accomplished if he is accepted by the goddess as her legitimate spouse."
The pounding in his head easing a little, Kieron remembered one of the tales of Brighid. Brid, as the daughter of the Dagda, married Bres of the Fomors for dynastic reasons and bore him a son,
The text ends abruptly here and the other side of the page has the opening minutes from the meeting.