With Lughnasadh just around the corner, this may be a strange time to write about the Goddess Brigit. Brigit is associated with Imbolc, the festival opposite Lughnasadh on the wheel of the year. But I have personal reasons to talk about Brigit right now – reasons between me and her. May my words and writing be pleasing unto her.

Brigit is the daughter of Danu and the Daghda. She is the patron of the fiery crafts: blacksmiths and poets (who work with the fire in the head). She is the virgin maiden of spring and the great mother and protector. She is a weaver, a healer, a seer. She is the fiery arrow of justice.

There are many good sources of information about her, her connection to the Christian Saint of the same name, and other associations. My favorite is this excellent article by OBOD Druid Susa Black.

But, there is one story which really imprinted the beauty and magnificence of Brigit on me. It is the one that I incorporated into my last Imbolc ritual. It is from Celtic Wonder Tales by Ella Young. I find it moving and inspiring:

The coming of the Fomor was terrible. They were multitudinous as grains of sand; multitudinous as waves in a sea-storm. A wind of death went before them and darkness covered them. The Tuatha De Danaan drew brightness to themselves and went into the battle. Lugh did not go into the battle, because it was known that Balor would not fight till near the end.

Lugh waited for Balor. He sat on a great hill, and below him the hosts contended. He saw the spears of the Tuatha De Danaan fly like fiery rain, and those of the Fomor like hissing sleet; and in the hissing sleet and fiery rain the demons of the air screamed and fought. At times the Fomor drove back the Tuatha De Danaan. At times the Tuatha De Danaan prevailed against the Fomor: it was so until the night came and put an end to fighting.

There was no brightness on the Tuatha De Danaan when they drew themselves out of the conflict: they were wounded and weary, and Airmid, Diancecht, and Miach, went among them with herbs of healing. It was vexation of spirit to look on the grievousness of their wounds.

Suddenly a delicate sweet music sounded in the air and the Tuatha De Danaan saw Brigit coming to them. She towered to the heavens and her mantle swept the ground like a purple mist. Her hair was plaited in nine loosened locks, and in each lock of the nine a star glittered. Wrapped in a corner of her mantle she held a crystal ball, clear as a dew-drop.

“Hail, Brigit, the Battle-Queen! ” cried the warriors, but those who were wounded and nigh to death, cried:–”Hail, Dana, the Mighty Mother! Brigit smiled, and a soft radiance filled the night. “I bring you a gift,” she said, and she shook the crystal drop from her mantle. When it touched the earth it became a deep clear lake.

It is a lake from Tir-na-Moe,” said Brigit, and there is healing in it for all weariness and all battle-wounds–it will even give back life to the dead.”

The Tuatha De Danaan bathed in the lake and rose out of the water joyous and radiant. At day-break they leaped to the battle, and as they went they drew down little fleecy clouds from the sky, and the clouds became shining helmets of protection to them.