On Satur(n) Days...

Saturdays have always been of special meaning to me. Even though I was born on a Monday, I was born in late December, making me a Capricorn according to the Zodiac I follow. Being interested in astrology as I am, I was always very deeply curious about my astrological sign- the Capricorn. As you know, the Capricorn is known as the goat and is shown as being  half goat, half fish. So naturally, I did what is typically of me to do when I am curious about something- I researched it and researched it often!

I found it interesting that the basics of the Earth sign was describing me, and was the astrological equivalent of my psychological personality identification according to the Myers-Briggs Personality Types. According to this assessment, no matter how often I take it, I always come back as a solid INTP (The Thinker). I got the same results when I took DISC assessment which is a solid CS (Compliant/Steady). In short the sign is ruled by practicality and order. The sign is not extremely emotional and values rationality over displays of emotion. Capricorns are hard workers and set high standards for themselves (and others). Capricorns are often stubborn and demanding, but at the same time utterly loyal and trustworthy and relatively predictable. 

To outsiders, the Capricorn can seem emotionless, cold and unfeeling, often displaying little to no humor with a cynical view on life. They are quiet, reserved, and oddly enough- tend to be interested in the occult. Capricorns are clever and diplomatic, and rely on logic to see them trough the difficult situations. Capricorns value history, responsibility, and simplicity. At the same time  thoughts of spontaneity, uselessness, and drastic, sudden changes have the ability to deeply disturb a Capricorn. 

As mentioned, these same exact traits can be found in the personality of the INTP and the CS. It was utterly fascinating to see these come together in perfect unity as all of these  (sign, and personality assessments) were literally putting my entire personality to paper without ever having met me. They were right so very precise with everything that I am and the knowledge of that startled me and shook me. It was extraordinary. I also found it interesting that Capricorn is ruled by Saturn.

 According to About.com, Saturn is linked with depression, while at the same time is known for being in harmony with other planets.  It is also associated with death and the quest of fulfillment before death takes you. Saturn has influence over achievement and those under this planet tend to be well rounded and educated, with an emphasis on following our own paths. 

Saturn is basically a discipline of mastering yourself through knowledge and perseverance. Saturn is also the focus of worship to one of my favorite musicians: Sopor Aeternus and the Ensemble of Shadows (aka: Anna-Varney Cantodea). 

Looking further I found that the day Saturday was named after this planet. In folklore it is said that a child born on Saturday is bound to be hard working and will likely have a hard life. How interesting! Saturday is also considered one of the luckiest days of the week in some countries, though it has it bad omens as well, such as if you shave your head on a Saturday you will go into debt! 

This year, my birthday falls on a Saturday. The day ruled by the planet that governs my astrological sign and that which shapes who I am, regardless of it you call it astrology, science, or simple coincidence. Because of all this, I hereby decide to post into this blog at least once a week and always on Saturday (not promising my birthday!) At least, I will try my best....

May the practicality of the Capricorns and the steadfastness of Saturn always guide you.

Links: 

Capricorn Personality: 

http://www.astrology-online.com/capricrn.htm

http://www.capricorn.arollo.com/personality/

Saturn Traits: 

http://astrology.about.com/od/advancedastrology/p/Saturn.htm

INTP :

http://www.personalitypage.com/INTP.html

CS in The DISC Assessment: 

C- http://www.personality-and-aptitude-career-tests.com/disc-profile.html

S- http://www.personality-and-aptitude-career-tests.com/disc-personality-profile.html

I own no copyright to research material, artwork, or song. Thank you.

The Darkened Road

In life there are many paths one can take, many destinations one will discover, and none of them are wrong. My path was put before me long ago. I could follow the crowd and do as others before me have done. I could follow the flock and be an imitation of all that was expected of me.

Or I would choose another option. That of my heart, my flesh, my soul, which cried out for the night, for the darkness. That which is sorrowfully told in melancholy music and touches my imagination as nothing else can. The path was dark, scary, solitary. It was Gothic and macabre- but oh so me.

The other path was not me, though I had traveled it for some time for fear of following the path I longed for. My life was a series of docilely obeying the road being built before my feet, always afraid to look over to the road that called my name, that dared me to build my own future, my own destination. I stayed on the path of emptiness for quite sometime, longer than what was bearable to my heart.

But that pain, that knowledge was needed, for only then could I diverge to be who I truly am: A  dark creature who take joy in what others can hardly fathom. I embrace who I am, I love who I am. I have defined myself, my life, and my inner peace is that which is obtained only when one reaches enlightenment. Yes, I am in enlightened in the fact that I know myself and am not afraid to look into my darkness and the abyss before me and see beauty in it. 

How do you choose the way, you may ask. You do not. It chooses you, and calls to you until you answer the call. You are only half complete until you can find the path that frees you and once you have found it- you will know. It is not to say that other roads are wrong, but like people each one is unique to the person, and we must be willing to search for it. And if the road does not appear right away you can either wait for it, or start building it yourself. For what is life other than a series of events we create or conform to?

So what path do you dare to take- the one meant for you- or one created for you by others?

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

-Robert Frost

For the musical Version of this poem, please click the above video! It will amaze you!

Poem by: Robert Frost

Music by: Lyriel

I own no copyright to either.

 

Deirdre of the Sorrows, Part III of III

This, dear read is the part where I will disclose my own musings on the legend of Deirdre. Of course, this is a sorrowful legend, yet at the same time, I cannot help but feel  little to no pity for the characters.  You may wonder, then, why it is my favorite legend. It is my favorite for the fantastical romance of it, but when practically and logic sink it the tale completes suicide just as Deirdre was said to do.

This is because of the characters themselves, mostly Naoise and King Conor, tough Deirdre is not blameless either. Which one do I side with more? Neither, actually. As a king, I feel that King Conor should not listen to the warning of the prophet and not allow himself to be taken by the promise of a beautiful woman. After all, he was king and it was his job to protect his kingdom, something he failed to do when he betrayed the trust of Fergus.

Naoise was also not very sensible in my mind. Yes, the king was his family and had given his word, but when it comes down to it, you should protect the ones you love. I would assume that he knew Deirdre had the gift of second sight and it would have been wise had he listened to her pleas instead of rushing back to Ireland.I also believe that Deidre could have prevented a lot of this. Though I am not saying she should have married King Conor, I do believe that she had a responsibility (if she loved her country, of course) to try to prevent, if possible, any wars or feud because of her beauty...I have no doubt she knew of the prophesy about herself. Though she may have tried to stop Naoise from going back to Ireland, she could have refused to go back. I hate to think that Deirdre was s...docile in her love for Naoise that she refused to use her logic when it mattered most.

I do not want you to think, dear readers, that the characters annoy me. If anything, I am simply over analytical. The legend itself is beautiful and heartfelt. Personally I would love to see the trees which are said to have sprouted from their bodies. The sadness of the poem is striking and speaks to the soul (so long as I can stop over-thinking it!)

I can only hope that my retelling has shed either new light or renewed enjoyment on that legend which sorrowfully sings to us in the darkness, calling softly to never forget nor deny true love… should such a thing really exist!

For a beautiful telling of the story, I suggest looking up A Celtic Tale: The Legend of Deirdre on youtube. 

Now- A song for your enjoyment!

This is the Celtic metal band called Cruachan. This song is from their album “Folk-Lore”. If you cannot understand what they are saying, the lyrics are in the video description on youtube! Enjoy it Darkly!

 -Midi

Deirdre of the Sorrows, Part II of III

As I vowed, this is my dark continuation of that melancholy Irish legend that fires the soul and steals the heart. This, my dear readers, is Deirdre of the Sorrows Part II of III as I know it to be:

Needless to say, by the tone of the poem posted in the last entry that Deirdre was less than thrilled to return to Ireland. Unlike her lover, she held no illusions about what might await them on the shores of their beloved Ireland.  It is even said that she had a vision of the fate they would receive should they set foot on their beloved Irish shore again. But Noise was determined so to Ireland they went, led by Fergus mac Róich, who was the messenger that sent word of King Conor’s pardon. It is said that for some reason halfway through the journey, Fergus could not continue and the group went ahead without him.

When Deirdre, Naoise, and his two brother’s reached Ireland, the story becomes blurred and the following events vary greatly from retelling to retelling. The most prominent of the versions I have heard is that King Conor wished them not to come straight to the castle but to stay elsewhere until the King was ready and able to extend his hospitality.  

However, extend his hospitality was the last thing the king was going to do. He was still angry about Deirdre and wanted her back and had no intention to abide by his pardon. However, before he did anything, he wanted to ensure that Deirdre was still beautiful. So the first thing he did was that he sent Deirdre’s old nursemaid to check on her and report back to him the state of her beauty. When she came back she told King Conor that Deirdre had lost her looks and he would do well to forget all about her. She was lying, of course- an attempt to protect her king and country from the events that would follow, no doubt.

King Conor felt quite sure she was lying, so he sent another person to report back to him on her beauty. The man was caught spying on them by Naoise and he ended up blinding the man by most accounts of the story. Yet the man returned to King Conor and told the king of Deirdre’s exquisite beauty, beauty so extravagantly rare that nothing had captured his eyes quite like the sight of her.

This only added to King Conor’s rage and jealously, along with his obvious need to have her. He called for a war. Now, this is where the story gets extremely complicated (if it wasn’t already!). As far I can tell, the brothers and Deirdre were warned of the doom awaiting them and was able to fight and kill all of their attackers on a plain. Because of this King Conor had his prophet (who forewarned of Deirdre's birth) set up a string of hardships which eventually killed Naoise and his brothers. 

In other versions a fight breaks out on the plain and the brothers die in the attack. Naoise, during the attack is killed by Éogan mac Durthacht (with a spear, on the plain!)

In both versions the three brothers are put to rest in the plain on which they all died and Deirdre is imprisoned. Either way it goes, the fact remains that Naoise and his brother die. This causes Fergus, who again brought them the peace treaty to begin with, to exile himself from Ireland and starts a war with King Conor because of King Conor's treachery. Later in the Red Branch Cycle is it made known that Fergus sides with King Conor's greatest enemy, Queen Medb against him-King Conor- during the Cattle Raid of Cooley, which I will supply as a link to the full text of that epic rather than making it an entry in this series.

Now with the fate of Deirdre again, the story diverges. In one version she pines away to death in her chamber within months of her lover’s passing. The other states that she was locked away for a year, and was forced to be his wife. However after a year of mourning in her room, King Conor could take no more. It is said he then sold her to the man he knew she hated most, Éogan, the one who killed Naoise. In this version, she throws herself off the back of a chariot and hits her head on a rock on her way to the man who killed her lover. She, of course, died.

Now, this is truly a romantic part. When Deirdre died, she was buried next to Naoise on the plain. From their bodies grow two large trees which merged together until the two trees became one and these trees are, according to some sources, still exist in Ireland today. In my next entry, (Dierdre of the Sorrows Part III of III) I will review my own thoughts on this legend, but until then…

Anyone care to join me on a pilgrimage of legendary proportions?

Another poem by Flann Fionn recounts Deirdre’s anguish at the loss of Naoise and his brothers. This one, like the other, was translated by Samuel Fergeson and the poem can vary vastly depending on the translation. However, this is my favorite translation of the poem, so without further introduction, I present:

Deirdre’s Lament For The Sons Of Usnagh

The lions of the hills are gone,

And I am left alone- alone-

Dig the grave both wide and deep,

For I am sick, and fain would sleep!

The falcons of the wood are flown,

And I am left alone- alone-

Dig the grave both deep and wide,

And let us slumber side by side.

The dragons of the rock are sleeping,

Sleep that wakes not for our weeping:

Dig the grave and make it ready;

Lay me on my true-love’s body.

Lay their spears and buckler’s bright

By the warriors’ side aright;

Many a day and three before me

On their linked bucklers bore me.

Lay upon the low grave floor,

‘Neath each head, the blue claymore;

Many a time the noble three

Reddened these blue blades for me.

Lay the collars, as is meet

Of their greyhounds at their feet;

Many a time for me have they

Brought the tall red deer to bay.

In the flacon’s jesses throw

Hook and arrow, line and bow;

Never again by stream or plain

Shall the gentle woodmen go.

Sweet companions ye were ever-

Harsh to me- your sister, never;

Woods and wilds and misty valleys

Were with you, as good’s a palace

Oh! To hear my true love singing,

Sweet as sound of trumpets ringing;

Like the sway of ocean’s swelling

Rolled his deep voice round our dwelling

Oh! To hear the echoes pealing

Round our green and fairy sheeling,

When the three, with soaring chorus,

Passed the silent skylark o’er us.

Echo, now sleep, mourn and even-

Lark alone enchant the heaven!-

Ardan’s lips are scant of breath,

Neesa’s tongue is cold in death.

Stag, exult on glen and mountain-

Salmon, leap from loch to fountain-

Heron, in the free air warm ye-

Usnagh’s sons no more will harm ye!

Erin’s stay no more you are,

Rulers of the ridge of war;

Never more ‘twill be your fate

To keep the beam of battle straight.

Woe is me! By fraud and wrong-

Traitors false and tyrants strong-

Fell clan Usnagh, bought and sold,

For Barach’s feast and Conor’s gold!

Woe to Eman, roof and wall!-

Woe to Red Branch, hearth and hall!-

Tenfold woe and black dishonor

To the foul and false clan Conor!

Dig the grave both wipe and deep,

Sick I am, and fain would sleep!

Dig the grave and make it ready,

Lay me on my true love’s body!

ADDED NOTES: By the way, Naoise and his brothers who by the way were called Ardan and Aindle (variant spelling: Ainli) were known as the Sons of Usnagh. For further clarification of the poem Eman was place which housed King Conor and where he ruled his kingdom. Eman is also reportedly where the plain was that the the brothers and Deirdre was buried in (and refuttedly where the couple met). According to a page I linked below, Barach works for the Red Branch (as did Fergus; Red Branch Knights is known to have been an order of men/warriors who served the King) and helps King Conor to get Deirdre back. It was mentioned in the second link below that he is the reason Fergus is not able to continue the journey back home.Lastly, Erin is an old name for Ireland.

(For more information on poem, please see Dierdre of the Sorrows Part I of III)

Links: 

The Cattle Raid of Cooley: http://adminstaff.vassar.edu/sttaylor/Cooley/

Poems of Deirdre and quite a fascinating summary of events: http://pybertra.free.fr/ceol/usneach.htm

Disclaimer: As with any retelling, this version may not be wholly accurate!

Deirdre of the Sorrows, Part I of III

In Irish legend their is none with more woes than that of fair Deirdre of the Sorrows. Here I will recount the legend of Deirdre as I know it, through scouring tons of websites and countless hours of research. Why, you might ask, would I do such a thing? Simply dear reader, for the sheer pleasure of it. Oh that only I were Irish and these legends were my own heritage. But, alas, they are not. Yet I hold tightly to the myths and legends and poetry of ancient Ireland. Among my favorite legend of Ireland is the story of Deirdre (pronounced Deer-Dra), which I will now share with you without further ado! 

When Deirdre was born, it was foretold that she would be the most beautiful woman in all of Ireland. She would be so beautiful, in fact, that where ever she would roam, kings would surely fight over her. King Conchobar mac Nessa, known as king Conor, was king of Ulster. The cycle of legend which recounts his tale with Deirdre is known as the Ulster Cycle or the Red Branch Trilogy.  Red Branch meaning two of his three homes. Well, having heard of this prophesy about Deirdre, King Conor decided that he wanted her for his own and planned to make her his wife.

He had her locked away so no one could see her until she would reach a marriageable age when the two could wed. As was expected, Deirdre grew into a beautiful woman if beautiful can even describe it. She was the greatest beauty of the land, and despite what some may think- she had a head full of blonde hair and enchanting green eyes (though I recently heard a version which states she had red hair, not blonde). Locked away she stayed and it is said that she dreamt of the man she would fall in love with. That man, as you might have guessed already, was not King Conor.

The man she dreamed of showed himself shortly before her marriage to the king. He was Naoise (also called Neesa, Naisi, etc...depending on translation) and was related to King Conor. They met, and depending on which version you read they either fell madly in love or she tricked him. Either way, both of them decided to forsake their beloved Ireland and elope together, leaving their homeland for Alba (present day Scotland) with Naoise's two brothers.

As was predicted, men, warriors, kings- they all fought over her when they seen her. No doubt Naoise and his brothers had their work cut out for them if this be the case! Other versions say that they kept her hidden so no one could die because of her loveliness. Some versions mention that they even had a child together.

Eventually King Conor caught up with them and through his messenger told the couple that he harbored no ill will and wished them to come back to Ireland. King Conor said that they would all have safe passage and no harm would befall any of them should they come home. Naoise decided to take them all back to Ireland in light of the King's declaration. After all, it was his home and King Conor was family who had given him his word. What could happen? This will be answered in Deirdre of the Sorrows Part II of III.

The following is a poem by Flann Fionn in the 12th century, and translated by Samuel Ferguson. It can be found in the book called 1000 Years of Irish Poetry: The Gaelic and Anglo Irish Poets from Pagan Times to the Present by Kathleen Hoagland. Enjoy it Darkly.

Deirdre’s Farewell To Alba

Farewell to dear Alba, high house of the sun,

Farewell to the mountain, the cliff, and the dun;

Dun Sweeny, Adieu! For my love cannot stay,

And tarry I may not when love cries away

Glen Vashan! Glen Vashan! Where roebucks run free,

Where my love use to feast on the red deer with me,

Where rocked on thy waters while stormy winds blew,

My love used to slumber- Glen Vashan, adieu!

Glendaro! Glendaro! Where birchen boughs weep

Honey dew at high noon o’er the nightingale’s sleep,

Where my love used to lead me to hear the cuckoo

‘Mong the high hazel bushes- Glendaro, adieu!

Glen Urchy! Glen Urchy! Where loudly and long,

My love use to wake up the woods with his song,

While the son of the rock, from the depths of the dell,

Laughed sweetly in answer- Glen Urchy, farewell!

Glen Etive! Glen Etive! Where dappled does roam,

Where I leave the green sheeling I first called a home;

Where with me and my true love delighted to dwell,

The sun made his mansion- Glen Etive, farewell!

Farewell to Inch Draynach, adieu to the roar

Of the blue billows bursting in light on the shore;

Dun Fiagh, farewell! For my love cannot stay,

And tarry I may mot when love cries away

I own no copyright to legend, poem, or the artwork used. 

Artwork found at:  http://cdnimg.visualizeus.com/thumbs/5c/6e/animals,architecture,birds,fantasy,forest,illustration-5c6e64883a5802ac0a33d5991f94a220_h.jpg

*Please note that as with any retelling, things may not always be perfectly accurate. Thank you.*

**Edited on Monday, April 9th, 2012**

The Ghost Nebula

The blackened universe is full of mystical beauty. One such beauty is a nebula that NASA has deemed 'The Ghost Nebula". It is stunning in its mysterious ethereally glory and invokes imagines of ghosts dancing in moonlight and shadow. I see the nebula and I think most passionately on how I wish the waking sky was filled not with blue calmness and grey and white clouds, but with a dark density covered with many a nebula just like this one, that my wanton eye can behold readily and at any time. Of course such desires are illogical and would bring about naught but destruction. But, oh-to dream of midnights filled with ghostly images in the sky!  To not only behold the distant stars, but to see all the wonders the universe offers that our human eyes can only create through nightmares of dark imagination. The perfection of the Ghost Nebula may not be touched within my pale hands, but its imprint will always remain in my heart, in my soul. Should Heaven, Nirvana or what have you exist, I should hope that this ghostly manifestation is where my soul will reside in that state of being, for no sight I have seen- real nor imagined- compares in beauty.And yet as I breathe, it exists within me, always. For so long as there is a place in my heart for the darkness and for the night, so too will this breathtaking art of nature reside with it and it brings me peace.

The Ghost Nebula

Oh Nebula of light

That is shrouded in night

May you reign sepereme

As you give birth to my dream

Of darkness so real

Your touch is all that I feel

As your ghostly array

Takes me back to the Fae

Of times filled with ghosts

Alive with dark dreary hosts

Where castle abound

On black grassy ground 

 

Oh Your  majestic music compels me,

Setting my spirit wildly free

Your lyrics are stars, caressing my skin

Our auras are one for your mystery lies within.

Copyright © Angelea Beatrice Sakai Woodham
(AKA Midieval Fantasy)
April 2012
All Rights Reserved.

Image Retrieved from:  http://www.nasa.gov/multimedia/imagegallery/image_feature_1741.html
(And yes, for all who wonder, this Nebula is my background photo!)

A Dark Welcome

Often I have been told that I should start a blog. But what of, my mind cried out silently... A voice whispered in my ears, a single phrase : Voces Nocturna. Translated from Latin it means "Expressions for the Night." Yes, my soul rang out in excited anticipation: This is it! Dark my heart is and expressions here, be it through poetry, musings, music, etc... shall be a living expression of that which entrances me, kisses me, embraces me and whose touch I would find myself desolate without. The Night. The Darkness Complete. My companion. My lover and my guide. My night. May she enfold you here and find you well always. Welcome.