The Druids’ Mist on Bealtaine Morning
The Irish Gods are So Much More Than “Genius Loci”
It’s Bealtaine morning and the féth fiada weaves between the magnolias and the cherries in the yard. The new green buds in the forest come alive under this cloak of enchantment.
The féth fiada is the druid’s mist, a mist of protection and sacred concealment. Manannán mac Lir, the god of the sea, bestowed this power on the Tuatha Dé Danann, a sort of consolation gift after they were defeated by the Milesians.
But, of course, this rural neighborhood is a couple hundred miles from the ocean.
And this vast Turtle Island is 3,000 miles from the small island of Ireland that was home to druids and their misty magic.
Is it possible that washing your face in the Bealtaine dew will grant you beauty the whole year through1, even if it’s harvested from grass in New York rather than Mayo?
If you’re a regular Myth Is Medicine reader or a frequent KnotWork Storytelling listener, you’ll know I am always living this question:
What it means to tell Irish stories, speak to Irish goddesses, and live according to the Celtic year as an American who doesn’t have a direct, daily connection to the culture?
I am so grateful to have discovered a new path to meet this question thanks to storyteller Brian Walsh who joined me on the podcast with a story of those Milesians who arrived on Irish shores on Bealtaine some 3500 years ago.
When it comes to myth, the land matters, but the geography may not be all that important
When I asked Brian about his perspective on telling Irish stories as members of the diaspora, he took us straight to the land - and not necessarily just the land of Ireland, but to the land into which we, the storytellers, are rooted.
As Brian describes his work:
The forests in these stories are Canadian forests. The rivers in these stories are Canadian rivers.
If the story only had meaning on one particular island, then these wouldn’t be gods, they’d be genius loci [the protective spirit of a particular place].
These gods are big, and I’m not willing to diminish them, whether they exist intrapsychically or in the world.”
He wisely declared that the nature of the gods might be a better conversation for the pub than on the permanent record of a podcast!
To echo Brian’s ideas, I don’t believe the gods don’t much care about humanity’s latest hot take related to their existence, their current address, or whether they can hitchhike on an Aer Lingus flight to Boston or Toronto.
What I do know is that there are those who hear the call to inhabit and share the stories of their ancestors.
When stories are told from a rooted place, with a sense of both reverence and innovation, those stories matter. And neither the color of the storyteller’s passport, nor DNA evidence, nor the names on the family tree can be more important than that desire to both carry on the tradition and imagine these stories for our modern times.
Brian is just this sort of rooted storyteller.
A Toronto based professional storyteller who specializes in Celtic Mythology and folk tales, Brian Walsh also works as a clinician and educator in a hospital setting where story listening is at the heart of his role. As you’ll hear in the conversation that follows his story, his background in psychotherapy, world religions, and Celtic studies is beautifully evident in all the work he does.
The Coming of the Sons of Mil is a tale of druidic magic and epic battle. Brian tells us how the Sons of Mil, the first of the Gaels, came to Ireland and divided the land with the race of the gods, the Tuatha Dé Dannan.
A Note for My Hudson Valley Community:
Join us for the Beltane Women’s Retreat at Moss & Moonlight Sanctuary on May 4!
Jen Murphy of
offers the story behind this folk tradition: https://www.celticembodiment.com/blog/bealtaine
Oh I am so excited to listen to this episode of KnotWork Storytelling!
Oh my Goddess can I come to your gorgeous retreat in Moss & Moonlight?! Teleport me across the Atlantic! Bealtaine blessings to you my love xox