Hey… yes, you. Listen up, for I have a story to tell. That’s right, come a little closer, and pay attention, for this is a tale that I know to be true…
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who dreamed a lot. She dreamed when she was sleeping, and she dreamed when she was awake. In fact, she dreamed so much her family despaired that she would never truly be a part of the real world.
When she wasn’t dreaming, she read books; she read about knights in shining armour, beautiful princesses, battles and dragons, heroes and sorcerers, gods and goddesses, and it was only in her dreams and her books that she felt truly alive. She learned about honour, and courage, and love, and strength, and truth and wisdom, and sorrow and joy.
Then one day, she arrived in a strange land. The landscape was full of mysterious stones, the remnants of ancient castles and humble homes, shrines and temples, memorials and burials. As she wandered among them, they whispered their stories to her in tantalising snippets and visions, and she realised that what she saw in her dreams and read in her books weren’t just imagination; the stories were real.
The heroes and knights and battles and goddesses and magic had really existed, and the stones in the landscape were the evidence left behind for those with the eyes to see them.
So she began to write it all down, but it was a long and arduous task, and although she tried her best, as time passed, she was forced to grow up and accept the responsibilities that came with living in the real world. The dreams faded as reality took over. Real life had much to offer; a career, a home, duty, bills to pay, travel, adventure, and more ancient civilisations to explore in tumbled stone, but always there was a feeling that something was missing.
Then she met a handsome prince who whisked her off to his castle in a far distant land. (Actually, it was a terraced house on an estate in Ireland, but it was a castle to them.) Ireland… hardly the exotic lands featured in her dreams.
There she gave birth to two fine sons and a beautiful daughter, and she thought her happiness was complete. Until the dreams returned, brighter yet more elusive than ever.
Here the landscape was littered with fallen stones, many of them untouched and unseen except by those who tilled the fields. And here it was that she encountered the mysterious, mythical, magnificent, magical people of the Danann. (Well, not in person, although she often longed to, but in ancient texts and manuscripts that she managed to get access to on-line.)
Voices from the past called to her and told her their stories, and once again she took up her pen. (Actually, technology had marched on since those early days, and now she had a laptop.)
She took a deep breath and screwed up all her courage and entered the crazy scary world of WordPress, and there she discovered a whole world-wide community who listened to her stories, and appreciated them, and shared their own. It was a revelation.
Finally she understood that so long as there were people willing to tell the old stories, there would also be those willing to listen and to share them, and in this way, so long as their names lived on in the hearts and minds and tongues of mankind, the ancient people upon whose deeds Ireland was founded would never be forgotten.
If you want to learn more about Irish Mythology, why not follow my blog? Just press the follow button, and please make sure to say ‘hi’ in the comments, if you do. You can receive new posts direct to your inbox if you press the follow by email button in the sidebar.
You can also subscribe to my monthly newsletter.
Finally, I’ve written a couple of books based on Irish Mythology. If you want a taster, Grá mo Chroí is FREE on Smashwords. What have you got to lose?