Every year at this time I dwell on my heritage, which on the one
hand is so varied because of my two very different halves, but on the
other, so similar in many respects. November 1st is the ancient Irish
New Year, a very important date both because of the agrarian calendar so
important to early economics, but also because of deeply held religious
beliefs. Everyone knows of Halloween in its American form, which is an
abomination, but few know it was our ancient New Year's Eve. ("Holy
Evening" because New Year's Day was a very religious holiday). One of
the concessions made by Rome during the attempts to win the Irish pagans
over to Christianity, was the establishment of the so-called All Saints'
Day, as November 1st, so as to coincide with the ancient belief that
ancestors are still among us, and are revered and remembered more on New
Year's Day than on any other.
Accepted Irish history seems to be from the seventh century BC,
similar to that of Japan, which began with the Emperor Jimmu, c. 660 BC.
But in each case the legendary history is at least a thousand years
older. The Irish claim heritage from about 1,600 BC, and the Japanese
from an uncertain date way before that. Both are island countries, and
Japan came about from mud droppings by an early goddess, while Ireland
was "A little bit of heaven that fell from out the sky one day." (Hope
you have heard that song). Both early histories are filled with stories
of gods and goddesses, as well as sundry netherworld creatures we
lovingly call the "Little People." The relationship between the Tuatha
de Dannen, (the Netherword People of Dannen), and the popular faeries of
our folk lore is striking. Even the British version of Celtic legend
shares this history among that branch with ancient histories of Breton,
Cornwall and Wales. Although the Celtic migration west was separated in
the Mediterranean, one branch traveling through Europe to the larger
island, called Brithonic Celts, the other by sea through Gibralter and
on to what became Ireland, called Geoldelic Celts. Hence the Helvetians
of Switzerland, the Gauls of what became France and the Brithonic Celts,
are actually the brothers of the Irish and later Scot Celts.
The aboriginals of Japan are likewise a people steeped in
mythology, becoming known as Ainu, and whom were driven north over
centuries by the invading (migrating) Polynesians. The latter,
incidentally, are what make the great racial distinction between
Japanese and other Asian orientals, despite significant cultural
influence from Chinese, Korean and other Asian peoples. There are Ainu
today in the northernmost island, Hokaido, where the people are on
average taller and hairier than the Polynesian Japanese.
When I was 10 I believed that double digit age began adulthood, and
once at about that time our family was picnicking in our park on the
river, and I wandered off alone to get close to the water. There were
some thick bushes clumped near the foot path there, and I was not at all
surprised to see a little man with a pointed hat beckoning me. As I
approached, I remembered the custom of the Little People, capturing we
mortal beings to play with them, singing and dancing, for seven years.
I knew from earlier stories that although it would only seem minutes to
me, my family would be older, so I stopped before I was near enough to
be taken in. Yet I was curious. He was definitely a Sidhe, (pronounced
"shee," and a generic name for many faeries), but I didn't know what
kind...so I asked him. He gave a typical answer, saying that I could
imagine him to be whatever I liked, so I said "be a mermaid and let me
see you swim in the river." At once he turned into the ugliest creature
I had ever seen, all green and wrinkled of face, but with the fish body
I expected. He was a "Mer" after all. I jumped back, but he said that
I need not fear him because I was no threat to his maidens, and with
that he slithered into the water.
My father had seen me talking to someone, then getting very close
to the water, so he came to get me. I pointed out the Mer swimming
along the near bank, and told him that I knew better than to get too
close to the faerie. Dad didn't see him right off, as the Little People
don't always reveal themselves, but knew we must leave the bank at once
for the male Mers are dangerous to mortal men. As we walked back to the
picnic table, I glanced into the shrub where I had seen the little man,
and there he was again. He doffed his hat and winked at me as we
passed, and I knew it was he. When later my father told me that Mermen
seldom frequent fresh water, and that this one was just tricking me, and
might not have been there at all, I wondered why the faerie tried to
fool me.
From age 10 on for several years I saw no faeries at all, and began
to wonder whether they belonged only to the youth of single-digit age.
I was disappointed, for I loved them all...kind ones, and mean ones
alike. It was my understanding then and now, that a faerie, no matter
how mischievous, would never do real harm to a human. When I was 15 I
had an awful nightmare following an incident wherein I had misbehaved,
and truly believed it was the Pooka punishing me. I felt no guilt at
all for what I had done, so began to wonder whether I didn't understand
the Little People after all. So, with a friend, I went to the park and
to the shrub where five years before I had seen the little faerie man.
I knew he wouldn't appear to me unless I was alone, so I asked my friend
to wait on the nearby picnic table, and I circled the bush. It was as
if I knew he would be there, and he was! He tipped his funny hat, and
answered my unasked question, saying that the Pooka in the form of a
black mare had taken me on that dreaded midnight ride, not to punish me,
but to remind me that I was not yet grown up. My guilty conscience over
the "misbehavior" was not necessary, he said, but that I was wrong to
want to, and believe I had, reached adulthood so soon.
Again he beckoned me closer, as he had done five years ago, and
again I hesitated. He said that I need not fear him, and that if I
truly believed that I was one with the faeries, I need never worry over
them. He promised me that I would be looked after, and that I must
trust him. So I asked the same question I had the first time that I saw
him: "Sir, what kind of a Sidhe are you?" His answer again was that he
would be whatever I wanted him to be. Thinking it over, and not being
one who wished or prayed for material things, I asked that he be my own
personal spirit of the New Year. From then on he visited me each
Halloween, and recited a review of how I had behaved during the year, so
that I would know where on balance I stood. It has helped me more than
I can say, for in addition to the usual conscience that one earns from a
proper up-bringing, I had this annual critique. It always made my
Halloween a joy, and helped me make appropriate resolutions for the
coming year.
During the five years that elapsed since that meeting he visited
five times, telling me last year that I would need him no longer, as he
considered me finally grown to adulthood. He laughed at the notion that
age itself or physical growth had anything to do with maturity when I
told him that I was not yet 21. He said that my thinking I was grown up
when I wasn't, but my now doubting I was, even as I was approaching 21,
was an adequate sign that I had indeed "grown up." I don't expect to
see him this year, although I will look for him. He can be there in my
imagination, and that will be sufficient to help me review my year as he
had done. I wish all of you a happy Halloween and a very good New Year.
Redd_k
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