“But the Irish otherworld was not simply an anticipated joyful afterlife; it was also – even primarily – an alternative to reality, a world that the hero might enter upon the invitation of a king or a beautiful woman. Inasmuch as this otherworld, no matter how beautiful, is not quite human, the hero never stays; but the alternative – and thus the tension – is always present.”
“Even the location of the otherworld – which should not be confused with the Classical underworld – is uncertain: sometimes it is to the west, over the sea; sometimes it is in the south-west of Ireland; but usually it is found in the great pre-Celtic burial mounds of the Side, of which the most important in the tales is Bruig na Boinde, today’s New Grange.”
You’ve always loved watching waves crash against cliffs. As you grew, you began to paint them, spending many a day watching from different angles, capturing the chaos of foam and water in acrylic and oil. One day, when painting at the top of the cliff, you fall, and brace for death. But it does not come, and instead you feel as if you are cradled by the arms of many. “Oh no,” you hear. “We cannot destroy something that has loved us so beautifully.”
This comment broke my heart
“You have seen beauty in something most could just see destruction. Much as you can only see destruction in youserlf where others have and will seen beauty.” The waves whispered. I gripped, my arm wrapped protectively around stomach, curling around it. My other hand clasped over my mouth in an attempt to silence the sobs and breath- the silence the vulnerability. The waves held me, formed a strong support and soft covers. I held myself as the waves too held me-patience, support, kindly, love. My brain drifted from the present for mere seconds at a time, but enough to relax. The waves slowly released me as my body held itself up. I kneeled in the sand based at the cliff. My tears dried, the water around my receded slightly.
“How can you call someone you don’t know beautiful?”
“Who said we never knew you? We’ve been here as you observed us. We’ve seen others dismiss us as loud and nuisances. You have seen the beauty in chaos- and so have we in you.”
The selkie or seal woman from the legend depicted at Mikladalur, Faroe Islands by artist Hans Pauli Olsen. She holds her sealskin or “hood” in her hand and emerges as a beautiful woman, who entices lonely farmers to fall in love with her. ( X )
Ocean's Meadow 