Our sacred stories tell us the truths we believe about ourselves, the ones that feel like freedom and lightness of heart. They are the ones we miss when we have lost touch with them.
A poem to the mother of all living.
A poem in celebration of the loving interaction of Sun and Moon throughout the year. Written as an ancient ballad, this song follows the lunar calendar of a people from my novel, “Across Bright Realms”.
Of all directions, North is youngest; of all lands was North raised last: pole-clinging, mountain-bracing, glacier-bearing, winter-blasting, storm-wielding, darkness lair. Of all lands was North the best.
The Celtic goddess Boann loosed an Otherworldly spring, and lost herself in the flood that came of it…or realized herself in its torrent. She and the spring together became the Boyne river, which flows today as ever it has since then, and Boann herself became the goddess of inspiration. To seek the Otherworldly spring soContinue reading “The Art of Inspiration”