The Wheel Goes 'Round and 'Round and 'Round In Scotland

I tell ya.

Sometimes things really do get just a mite weird.

I've just spent the past year and a half researching and writing about the ancient past of Scotland because of a mystic experience and some dominating, attitudinal Characters.

Before that it never really crossed my mind to think a whole lot about Scotland (sorry, I've had a life crazier than most and ... well ... ) except in terms of doing my own family research and out of curiosity and fascination.

ANYWAY, ironically, because of that very involvement with ancient times, I've spent the past year and a half in Scotland, only 1500 years ago - and (ask anyone who knows me) it has consumed my life.

Finally the Mamm Books are done, right? I can breathe again.

And it dawns on me that maybe I ought to take a look-see and find out how it has all turned out for my Characters by finding out what things are like now in their neck of the woods.

I KNOW. Don't give me that look.

But you have to keep in mind that when I'm consumed, it's like there IS no other time, no other place, just whenever and wherever I am (aside from eat, sleep, work ... actually more like just work as I also ate and slept in my 'time zone').

So I've been out of the communications loop for a while.

And I come back to our own time zone just in time for a HUGE event. 

The mystic in me isn't the least bit surprised to find the descendants of my 'fictional family' embroiled in yet another challenging Choice.

The rest of me is stunned.

My daughter says, 'Mom! It's just like in your books, only NOW!'

And in a way she's right.

Me, I'm paying attention - because I really do want to know how it all turns out.

Which side am I rooting for?

I'm rooting for the People of Scotland.



They will Choose for themselves, the same as always.

Aye, that they will.

To Dunnottar and to Scotland with Love and the Deepest Admiration and Respect

To the Dunnottar Area Folk and the People of Alba, Past and Present (and I reckon Future as well):

I want to say thank you, moran taing, with all of the heart that is in me, partly for not shooting me (yet), but mainly for simply being your own selves.

From half a world away your generosity and kindness, unbeknownst to you, have struck a chord that has turned into a SONG.

My research led me deep into the Past; it also allows me glimpses of the Present, without which the Past would remain more of a mystery than it is.

Were I one of you I would be bursting with pride.

From what I find on line, Scotland breeds true and strong. Please accept my kudos. From half a world away I see still the very things that the Characters, the Legacy, of the Mamm Books represent: Faith, Family, Friends, Freedom, the Future – and I am not surprised to find tears rising, coursing, falling.

Well yes, I am an emotional one, what can I say?

Still, I see the tenderness with which you protect and preserve the things of old. The world is fortunate indeed, and the future a better place, because you care.

You too are fortunate – to have such an ancient heritage right at your doorstep. And I thank you more than you can know for not only keeping it safe but for sharing it with those of us who cannot come to share it with you in person.

The Characters of the Mamm Books are fictional; yet they are based not only on what research has turned up about the past but as well (and perhaps more important) the evidence before our eyes which proves the value of their struggles and sacrifices.

That would be you. And you. And you and you and you. Look around you at this moment, at those who stand nearby. Reach out to shake their hands, because you have the right to say with pride and satisfaction, ‘We did it. We did it.’ Because you are the Keepers of the Legacy, and you ARE doing it. I can see and feel it from the other side of the world.

I write fiction. And I am a ‘method writer’ which is to say that, like method actors, I immerse myself to the best of my ability in the time and the place of which I write.

And so:

On behalf of the Cast of the Mamm Books I say to you of today’s Scotland and of the Dunnottar area in particular, and to the generations between:

Well done.

Oh so very well done.

With love from Sidhelagh.

And Danann.

And Mamm.

And Alianora, Drustann, Sass, Thann, Caileen, Talorc, Aine, Kalann, and the Younglings of Dunnottar.

Sheesh. These Characters, I tell ya!

(Also from Shiela B.)

What Right Have I To Care ?

Really, what right have I, a little nobody lady who lives smack in the center of the North American continent, to care one way or another  what goes on across the world in Scotland?

None, to be brutally frank.

It’s none of my business as the Scots in my lineage are obviously no longer over there.

Even so, I do care.

Just recently I have had reason to do some fairly thorough research on the history of Scotland. I had already begun on account of the history of my own family but took it many steps further back in this last year or so.

And what did I find?

What jumps out first and foremost, to me, is that whatever internal divisions plagued her, when push came to shove she yet managed to unite herself, at least well enough to accomplish whatever task was at hand. Else she would have been roman, right?

Today I read and hear that her people have to make a choice, and that there are differences of opinion as to which course to take.

Whichever Choice is to be made, it belongs to the people of Scotland.

And so?

Well, I’m still watching and listening. Because even though it’s decidedly no business of mine, I still care.

I’m American. Most of the lines of my family came to America before there was a United States, so our roots are deep here already. Some of those lines came from Scotland.

I think there is something that perhaps lies silent within many of us, a thing of mystery whose silence unexpectedly becomes a whisper, or a murmur, or a shouted command even, at times … if we are so deaf as to not have heard it in its quieter Voices. It is perhaps the Call of the ancients demanding our attention but we are lost and don’t know how to respond.

Scotland has sent many and many of her sons and daughters to this big new land over the centuries, to take root here and to grow strong. And so we are Americans now, no longer Scots really at all. Which is as it should be and needs to be.

And yet …

And yet that whispering silence within us remains.

We cannot go back; there is no room for us; we are far too many. And this is Home now.

And yet …

Yet, perhaps we carry still within us those things that our long-ago people carried within themselves. Those Still Small Voices that can become shouts if need be.

And perhaps we are not so very far apart after all.

At any rate, this little old woman watches and listens from across the world, and up go prayers for those who must soon Choose.

Regardless of the difficulty of the Choice-making, please please stand together in the end. Whichever path you walk, walk it together.

And that’s it I think.

Yep.

Moran Taing to the Voice of Albann

I had never heard the Story of the Mamm Books told by any Voice other than my own as a sort of proxy for the Characters – until the other night …

Cynthia grins and says she thinks God has got a sense of humor which I reckon is true enough but the humor of the situation I got myself into eluded me for quite an uncomfortable time I have to say.

I was to give a reading of a part of the Story and I says to myself, ‘Self, all of these words came through you; just pick a book, open it, and read what’s there. It will be fine.’

And so I did.

Right.

Picked up Tarnos, I did, and opened it up to a scene in the Perth Family Grove.

Good – background of the Story in that scene, okay I can do this.

Being a ‘method writer’ it’s time for me to become a ‘method actor’.

So outside I go for a few minutes to tune in to the Mamm Character and run through the scene I had chosen to read.

Now Mamm’s Voice tells the majority of the Story so Mamm was the logical Character role for me to ‘assume’.

And so I did.

Reading as I walked back toward the gym, I almost turned to walk away and out of there.

This part isn’t Mamm’s Voice.

It’s Thann’s.

Uh-oh.

‘We need Thann’s Voice, not Mamm’s.'

Indeed the thought flashes through my head to just choose a different scene but I’m way past out of time and so comes the thought, ‘Okay, if you say so,’ and on the heels of that, ‘Sidhelagh you’re gonna have to do this thing.’

Thoroughly discombobulated, I sigh and know I’m about to fall flat on my face in front of God and everybody (which of course I do, sigh).

And so into the gym I go, settle myself with intense discomfort onto the stool, fight with the microphone and lose but begin reading anyhow.

Because what else could I do?

Struggling and flubbing my way along, I stop after a few minutes. I have not the Voice of Thann and am weeping inside that this introduction of the Characters is literally losing the audience.

And so I stop.

Walking toward me is a man and he’s saying something about Scotland being his land and can he read a part of this Story?

And so he does.

And so the first Voice I hear telling the Story of the Mamm Books is – amazingly – the Voice of Albann itself.

Tears well. They course. They drop.

And he reads on.

The next bit, after the Grove, is where they take LittleMamm to Iona and I realize that this angel of a Scotsman might throw the book to the floor when he gets to the ridiculous scene where the family quacks and waddles its way past the elite of Iona – but he reads through it in that same perfect ‘Thann Voice’ manner with a hint of a frown maybe but never a loss of rhythm or hesitation the entire time.

I tell you true, my friend: Cynthia’s right. God’s got a sense of humor all right.

Had I chosen any other book, any other selection, I would have been comfortable reading it – and would never have been able to hear the Voice of Albann, indeed of the very area of our Story, telling the Story so that I could hear it told as it ought to be told, with my own ears.

And into my ears comes the thought from out of my head:

She breeds true, this land.

Here is a man of compassion and of courage (and no doubt not a little irritation at the mangling of a Story of his own land) – ready, willing, and well able to step up to the plate in an hour of need. His Voice was needed and so he shared it.

I do not question, not really, the fact that things beyond our ken are often at work.

And it’s well that I do not, as Someone much better at arranging such matters will do so with or without my questions, my understanding, or my input.

If it takes embarrassing myself miserably in order for a miracle to happen, I can live with that.  *chuckling*   I may question the humor of the situation but I certainly acknowledge its effectiveness!

All of the other ‘mystic coincidences’ of the Mamm Books have been private – but this, THIS is very much public, a Gift of the Mother perhaps is what our Characters would call it and I’m not arguing, not the least little bit, believe you me.

Because I ask you:

Who else could have pulled together all of the necessary ingredients for to create the setting in which such a thing would happen?

Here is this couple, beautiful lady and handsome man, out of the clear blue sky, just happening to be exactly where they were needed exactly when they needed to be there.

Here is a woman wondering what she’s gotten herself into but going with it as led (or out of sheer stupidity perhaps; either way, she’s in trouble and knows it full well), wishing she were Mamm who could say to Alaric ‘Just get me out of this!’

Here is a set of books that is more than it seems to be, getting bludgeoned by said wondering woman.

Here is a public setting in which said bludgeoning is taking place.

Here is a Voice.

Was it Mamm who said that there will always come a Voice when needed?

Again tears rise, course, fall.

This couple is somehow here.

And I am felled to my knees.

Into the hour of weakness come these two, three, four, five, six people – bringing strength with them though they probably have no idea that they do so. Still, here is a new strength much needed and so very much appreciated.

Yes. I am on my knees.

Not that I plan to remain for long on those knees, mind you.

It seems there are yet things for me to do.

Perhaps this blessing, this so very overt Gift, will continue to provide strength and encouragement over time, as I know full well that I’ll think of it often when in need.

And so I say THANK YOU.

Moran taing.

How does such a thing HAPPEN but by the Will of the Trinity?

Send Hugs to Those Who Need Them

2014  09  12  

0200

Thank goodness I’ve got the Mamm Books done and have a few days off here – it’s supposed to be a mite chillier than it usually is at this time of the year so I’m glad I’ll be able to be home to feed my wood stove – and have some days to spend gathering wood to fill my  basement.

The silver lining? Hopefully goodbye to the mosquitoes and flies!

I had no intention in this world of staying up this late tonight but found myself watching 9/11 footage when I got home from work – footage I’ve been avoiding seeing (FEELING) for all these years.

I’m not sure why this year is different … the emotions are still raw and powerful … maybe I’ve gotten stronger, or maybe the impact has waned enough for others so that there’s not so MUCH unfocused emotion in the air in general.

Don’t mistake my words – unfocused is the key one in that last phrase.

September 11 is still a day that evokes powerful emotions so that’s still in the air. I believe I am stronger now than I’ve been before, ready to feel what’s in the air.

So what am I feeling?

All of it. ALMOST all of it is still there – I think maybe the fear factor is what has diminished, but don’t quote me on that.

It could be that all of us somehow have come to associate this day with the sense of unity that had us on our knees on that day.

Maybe not literally, but I’d be willing to wager (if I had anything to wager) that the phrase most used on that day was ‘Oh my God!’ It’s certainly the phrase I’ve heard the most now that I’ve finally begun viewing the footage, and it was certainly the one I heard the most on that day itself.

Yes, even from the most devout of atheists, the first words out of our mouths were, ‘Oh my God!’ Intentionally or not, it was a day of prayer.

United prayer, and not just us Americans.

And that makes a statement all its own.

As an arrogant American, I have to say that the outpouring of reaction from around the world that one event sparked was so very poignantly needed – it was as though the arms of our world came around us in a strong warm hug.

I think we drew strength from that hug, as do we as humans always draw strength from hugs.

We needed that hug and our world stepped right up to us and even in the shock and grief of that day we felt it, that strong solid hug from our world when we most needed it.

I don’t know that we’ve ever said ‘thank you’ and so at this late date I will raise my own little one-person Voice and say to our world : THANK YOU

For a moment in time the unity of our nation as we shouted or whispered or murmured or wept the words, ‘Oh my God!’ was shared by our world (most of it; and the few who said hooray kept a darned low profile, relatively speaking).

Having said that, now I have a question of my own.

And my question is:

How come we can’t seem to maintain that feeling of connectedness, of unity? Like all the time, I mean.

It’s there – it’s HERE – as we weep with and for one another all the time when something happens to bring one or another of us to our knees, figuratively speaking but literally as well, in prayer, in shock, in pain … we do weep with and for one another in our world – all around our whole huge wide world we feel the feelings of those of us who are hurting.

So maybe I was wrong in thinking that we don’t maintain that feeling … because I think it’s still very much alive and well on planet Earth.

The kicker is that it’s we ourselves who are causing most of the hurts that hurt us all, those of us who can and do feel, which is the vast majority of us, believe it or not.

That hurting is ever-present … and the ones who need the hugs don’t always get them I think.

Does Ukraine feel the hugs I send?

Does Israel?

Does Syria?

Does Africa?

Do the non-coms who are being hurt all over our world feel the hugs I send?

I don’t know.

I send them anyhow.

Because you just never know.

Perhaps somebody somewhere will feel an inexplicable bit of comfort, or find a tiny spark of hope within themselves when all is dark.

There is much that we don’t understand at work in our world; is it not worth sending out those hugs, just in case?

Yes.

We’ll never know, of course, but does it not make sense for those of us who make up the vast majority of humanity on this planet of ours to do something as simple as sending hugs to one another?

Think of it!

The whole air of our world so filled up with the hugs of all of us, one for another, that no space is left for the nasties.

Ha.

If we focus on hugging, we’re certainly not thinking about how to do each other in.

Yep.

And that’s just about enough of that, b.

Heh heh.

Yeah I know.

But you know what?

One small little 9/11 related incident comes to mind.

At noon on the Friday following, everyone was supposed to take thirty minutes to just be still.

The construction contractor on the interstate highway project we were working on at the time had no intention of any such thirty minutes interrupting the day’s work.

Now, on one end of the project you have the mill guy on the work site, stripping off the old asphalt so as to prepare the way for the new stuff.

At the other end of the project you have the scale operator who weighs and records the materials the trucks are hauling to and from the work site.

‘Coincidentally’ on that Friday the mill operator just stopped, right in the middle of what he was doing at the exact same moment that the scale operator shut down scaling operations – totally not having the faintest clue that the other person was doing the same thing. These two people had never met, and either of them alone could shut down the project. That the both of them chose to do so – and that there was not a sound from any of the radios in the trucks or equipment for thirty minutes – and that every truck and every piece of equipment and every vehicle on that project didn’t move for thirty minutes on that Friday – and that neither the mill operator nor the scale operator ever heard a word from the bosses about disobeying a direct order – well, it just kind of makes a statement all its own, doesn’t it?

A small, insignificant, incident in the bigger scope of things, yet when the time came those two people just did what they did without any big to-do about it. Independently from one another, each made a choice that could well have cost them their jobs. Knowing that, they did it anyhow.

Sometimes you just have to do what you know to be right and damn the torpedoes.

Hug our world, people. It’s the only one we’ve got.

Just Had A Most Amazing Time

This afternoon and early evening I spent at the Farmers' Market in Bowdon, ND USA. 

And I have to say that God does indeed work in mysterious ways for which I have great cause to be intensely grateful.

It seems He can and will send a Voice when and where it's needed.

Meeting and talking to people can be an absolute blessing - I am deeply moved by those I got a chance to visit with on this day.

Question About the Spiral:

Okay, is the Spiral the design we make out of whatever we use?

Or is it the space between that the lines of the Spiral define?

My Answer:

I think it's both; you can't have one without the other.

Philosophically speaking, the Spiral is what we see AND what we either don't see or see right through without noticing that it's there - until we realize that it IS there, and then everything gets a different focus, sort of.