The Taurus moon whispered to me three years ago. It spoke of young fertile Earth maturing under the warmth and light of the Sun. I am that S(o)n. I shine bright despite silvery claw-marks tattooed on my skin--a warning to anyone who sees it. For, within me, there is a Tyger. And, she is starving....
I saw the rock pictured in a dream--it's called the Cat Stone. Ail na Mireann in a language I knew in another lifetime. It means "stone of divisions" and is often regarded as the "bellybutton" of Ireland. Until today, I did not know that stone was real.
In the dream, I was in a forest under a canopy of trees, The sky was overcast. And when I came upon a cave, I turned back to explore this rock formation. The rock let me inside. She showed me her secrets. I could see the rain start to fall on already damp leaves from an alter just below "windows" to the outside world. That's when I decided to go back to the cave.
I but crossed the threshold of what was barely a gash in the ground when a bright light came from within me to illuminate the darkness. That same light fell on a tiger. My Tyger. She was hunting, but when my light shone upon her, she turned and followed me back to the Cat Stone.
Did you know there is a Cave of Cats in Tara, near the next visible hill from where the Cat Stone is located? I didn't. Until now. Yet, somehow, I dreamt of it.
Tyger, tyger, burning bright, you are the forests of the night. You are the immortal hand and eye. And it is you who frames my fearful symmetry. No hammer. No chain. It is you in my brain. The distant deep of Irish skies fuels the fire in mine eyes. And, yours....
Our soft paws still somehow crunched the dead leaves below our feet as we--the Tyger and I--approached the Cat's Stone. For it was there, on the Hill of Uisneach--the meeting place of kings--where the first Bealtaine fire was lit. The first sacrifice, burnt at the alter. It was there that the youth became a man by donning horns made of branches and finding the goddess in his midst to give her his power. His strength. His protection. And, his seed. For, that was the true start of summer.
It is my Bealtaine wish, too...for the fertile Earth and fiery S(o)n to come into enchanted union and bring me to life, through life:
In the guise of deer, the clever sidh saw our inner most fear. And desire...the ones that feed our same fixed fire. When we clasp our hands as if tied together, we shall walk the path of a lifetime, for a lifetime. The obstacles before us will magically melt away as rich and infinite springs (thanks to angel's wings) feed our every need. And those who seek to hurt us, haunt us, taunt us, disappear as if pierced by the tip of Cu Chulainn's spear. With your hand in mine, and mine in yours, we will travel to distant shores. For decades to come, we will live and love, as if blessed by the gods above.
My Tyger grows restless of late. But she is patient. Kind. Yet, she is still a Tyger. Wild, if not free. And, one day soon, when she is hungry enough, she will bite back. She will fight back. All the wrongs, she will make right. The slashes she etched into my side are there as more than just a caveat to others. They are a reminder. For me. Sharp teeth and curled claws are mine, too. Tools to help me leave the fierceness of my own mark. On you.
William Blake was too concerned about lambs. He separated them from the lions. Why or how I cannot say. For, there is no nobility that is not also savage. As every "good" man knows. And, as every "good" woman eventually finds out.
La Bealtaine beannachtai to the good souls of this world! My fellow angels, let not your wings drag upon the ground. Raise them up and spread them out! You are not here to suffer, even when suffering, You are here to remember you have wings and can rise above. If there is a Tyger in me, there is surely one in you, too. Be fearless in the face of your own dark caves. Know that within them, there is light...and you are its source. If you want love, joy, peace, and bliss with another, you shall have it. Let the Earth you walk upon turn green with abundance. May you never go hungry, be thirsty, or have a physical need that is not met. May you find a soul who comforts and heals yours. A soul who helps you become alive and fertile once again. And may all these blessings support you and whatever art you create.
The world will be better for it. But only better if you remain in it.
#MayDay
I saw the rock pictured in a dream--it's called the Cat Stone. Ail na Mireann in a language I knew in another lifetime. It means "stone of divisions" and is often regarded as the "bellybutton" of Ireland. Until today, I did not know that stone was real.
In the dream, I was in a forest under a canopy of trees, The sky was overcast. And when I came upon a cave, I turned back to explore this rock formation. The rock let me inside. She showed me her secrets. I could see the rain start to fall on already damp leaves from an alter just below "windows" to the outside world. That's when I decided to go back to the cave.
I but crossed the threshold of what was barely a gash in the ground when a bright light came from within me to illuminate the darkness. That same light fell on a tiger. My Tyger. She was hunting, but when my light shone upon her, she turned and followed me back to the Cat Stone.
Did you know there is a Cave of Cats in Tara, near the next visible hill from where the Cat Stone is located? I didn't. Until now. Yet, somehow, I dreamt of it.
Tyger, tyger, burning bright, you are the forests of the night. You are the immortal hand and eye. And it is you who frames my fearful symmetry. No hammer. No chain. It is you in my brain. The distant deep of Irish skies fuels the fire in mine eyes. And, yours....
Our soft paws still somehow crunched the dead leaves below our feet as we--the Tyger and I--approached the Cat's Stone. For it was there, on the Hill of Uisneach--the meeting place of kings--where the first Bealtaine fire was lit. The first sacrifice, burnt at the alter. It was there that the youth became a man by donning horns made of branches and finding the goddess in his midst to give her his power. His strength. His protection. And, his seed. For, that was the true start of summer.
It is my Bealtaine wish, too...for the fertile Earth and fiery S(o)n to come into enchanted union and bring me to life, through life:
In the guise of deer, the clever sidh saw our inner most fear. And desire...the ones that feed our same fixed fire. When we clasp our hands as if tied together, we shall walk the path of a lifetime, for a lifetime. The obstacles before us will magically melt away as rich and infinite springs (thanks to angel's wings) feed our every need. And those who seek to hurt us, haunt us, taunt us, disappear as if pierced by the tip of Cu Chulainn's spear. With your hand in mine, and mine in yours, we will travel to distant shores. For decades to come, we will live and love, as if blessed by the gods above.
My Tyger grows restless of late. But she is patient. Kind. Yet, she is still a Tyger. Wild, if not free. And, one day soon, when she is hungry enough, she will bite back. She will fight back. All the wrongs, she will make right. The slashes she etched into my side are there as more than just a caveat to others. They are a reminder. For me. Sharp teeth and curled claws are mine, too. Tools to help me leave the fierceness of my own mark. On you.
William Blake was too concerned about lambs. He separated them from the lions. Why or how I cannot say. For, there is no nobility that is not also savage. As every "good" man knows. And, as every "good" woman eventually finds out.
La Bealtaine beannachtai to the good souls of this world! My fellow angels, let not your wings drag upon the ground. Raise them up and spread them out! You are not here to suffer, even when suffering, You are here to remember you have wings and can rise above. If there is a Tyger in me, there is surely one in you, too. Be fearless in the face of your own dark caves. Know that within them, there is light...and you are its source. If you want love, joy, peace, and bliss with another, you shall have it. Let the Earth you walk upon turn green with abundance. May you never go hungry, be thirsty, or have a physical need that is not met. May you find a soul who comforts and heals yours. A soul who helps you become alive and fertile once again. And may all these blessings support you and whatever art you create.
The world will be better for it. But only better if you remain in it.
#MayDay
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