THE BANSHEE, OMENS AND PROTECTORS.

The Keening and Protecting of Ancient Families

THE BANSHEE, OMENS, and PROTECTORS.

The Banshee has always been this strange spirit of Ireland that has been both feared and respected for generations of ancient Irish families.  It was thought that ‘she’ only followed certain families and that she was the portent of death.  However, the Banshee (Bean Sí in Irish means the woman of the Faery mound, the word Sidh (of the mound) also meaning of the Otherworld, although today fairy or faery is often referred to as just Sidhe (pronounced Shee) or Aos Sí.

The male portent is sometimes known as Donn, a very handsome ‘dark one’. He is said to dwell in Tech Duinn (The Dun of the Dead, or the House of the Dark One). 

According to legend, (one wonders if this is mythology or ancient history) the Tuatha De Danann came to Ireland, from the North, a supposedly supernatural race of almost deified humans, or how we might perceive an advanced peoples today with their spiritual gifts and their powers.  They were known as the People of Danu or of the Dagda.  Battles ensued and eventually they were forced to hide from base human sight.  The Banshee originated from this time in Ireland, attaching to ancient families that tried to protect the Tuatha De Danann.

They were protective of those who cared for them and made sacred their treasures that were brought from four spiritual provinces, perhaps subtle divisions of their world beyond ours, known as cities of Knowledge, each containing a special jewel. 

Falias:… Stone of Fál ( Lia Fáil), the stone upon which the rightful High Kings of Ireland stood, located at Teamhair (Tara).  It emitted a high pitch sound or cry that no-one could challenge.

Gorias:...  Spear of Lugh (Sleg), the famous Spear of Destiny that could rule the world but must not fall into the wrong hands.  No-one could fight against it.

Findias:… Sword of Power (Claíomh) Once unsheathed created havoc, known as the King Núada’s Flaming Sword.  It glowed like a torch in the King’s silver hand.

Murias :… Cauldron of the Dagda, (Coirea Ansic) never-ending source of nourishment, a seemingly bottomless vessel like the Cornucopia.

I see these as four gifts or treasures to which we all have access:

The Stone of Fál, the key of Protection that opens the lock on the stone mind to unlimited Knowledge and self-sovereignty in the material world.

The Sword of Power, the supreme Intellect that cuts through and lights up the darkness of Ignorance to find all Knowledge.

The Spear of Lugh that is the Will of Destiny and a guide through the darkness to light again, like the seed that goes underground to rise again with the seasons.

The Cauldron of Dagda, the unending well of Emotions that drives and nourishes the soul to reach the highest aspirations of Love of Existence.

Then there is a fifth gift that is the Wave of Breath that exists throughout the Universe, the unseen wave that we know exists that carries the breath and sound of the Cosmos.  Upon this is carried the sound of all life, the radio waves, the hum or the OM, the Prana of existence.   The Tonn Aeir in Irish is the Wave of Breath.  Análaigh, the Irish word for Breathe is often written in Ogham with the accompaniment of a Raven’s feather. Why?

Upon this aetheric wave, it is said, rides The Morrigan, a triple goddess aspect of Macha, Badb and Anann, the three daughters of Ernmas (Ireland itself).  Each aspect carries the Fates.  Badb is associated with prophecy, death and omens, and rebirth, often guiding souls who die in battles to their rebirths.  The Badb Catha was known as the warrior crow or battle crow.

Macha is the one representing the trials of war, associated with ravens, horses, swiftness, and sovereignty.  Sometimes, Knights of old, on their way to battle saw an old woman washing blood out of clothes in a river or stream, and often that Knight then fell in battle.  Very occasionally is the one doomed to die permitted the sighting.

Anaan was associated with fertility, birth and rebirth, war, and cattle, and she was, and is, the comforter of those dying.

The Morrigan, a triple entity is both the Great Queen and Great Mother, the Fae, and one aspect is the Banshee that used the breath to make the omen and was the giver and taker of breath.  She rules a particular wave of this air, and the sound can be targeted to certain families or clans. She is associated with winds of change.

 The Banshee (Bean Sidhe), or woman of the faery mound, is attached to many old families of: Ireland, Scotland, Cornwall, Wales, England, and the Isle of Man and is known in Brittany, Germany, and France.  The Omens of Life and Death come in many forms in all countries of the world.

However, the Banshee is not just a portent of Death but can also be the Protector of Life, attached to, and loving particular families.  She is also the Muse, known to inspire Artists, Poets, and Musicians, often guiding the babies and children onto their Life Paths.  Often she foretells births as well as deaths, births often being heralded with the tiny tinkling sound of bells or the whispering call of names or birds.

She can be visible or invisible and even though she may carry the portent sound to the family, a sound of keening or wailing, whispering, or knocking on doors, or howling like a wind, the one who is dying or going to cross over does not hear her.

I can only speak from experience, having both heard her and having my life saved by her, and knowing the omens we have had in our family over the years.

My Grandfather originally came from Wexford, from a long line of Murphys, (The anglicised name of O’Murchada or Mac Murchada) whose ancestors moved to the North during the famine.  O’Murchada (anglicised to Murphy or Murrough) is a very old name from an old Leinster King called Diarmait Mac Murchada, (c 1110; 1^st May 1171).  He built the first castle and an Augustinian Abbey of St Mary’s in 1160.

 My Grandfather was a blacksmith descendant who created huge ornate iron gates, a farrier shoeing horses, and a watchmaker who made silver watchcases and chains.  He married an Armstrong from a long line of the Armstrong border clan, which was forced to move from the lowlands of Scotland and high borders of England to settle in Northern Ireland.  The Laird, Chief Archibald Armstrong was hanged in 1610 in Edinburgh for leading a raid on Penrith in England. The astronaut Neil Armstrong came from this stock and there were physics teachers, scientists, and mechanical engineers in the family.  My father and brother were both mechanical geniuses and a nephew is an aeronautical engineer.  Our son studied quantum physics, rooted in this side of the family.

My Grandparents had a young child who died of the flu at an early age.  That night, the Banshee was heard by both parents.  My cousin informed me that the story was told to her that my Grandfather bravely went outside into the night and followed the sound all the way across a field until it disappeared, hoping to lead her away, to no avail, as sadly the child passed over by the morning.

Banshee as Protector: My own awareness of the Banshee came shortly after I had bought some beautiful patchwork bed-quilts made by women in Guatemala. I lived in Miami at the time and placed one on our bed in Miami.

Unbeknownst to me, there was a locosceles spider (a brown recluse) in the patchwork.  That night, I had a very vivid dream of a young woman gathering a plant from marshes.  I knew it was called Marsh Wool.  She was putting several plants in a basket.  I watched her turn around and look at me and she came closer and closer until she seemed to be appearing in my head, but her face changed dramatically and she became very old and haggard.  I screamed and felt as if I had been pushed, leaping out of the bed, my heart thudding, and for a moment, still in half dream state I saw her and knew she was the old grey woman of the Sidhe Bean.  Robin was alarmed and asked me if I was okay.  His voice calmed me down and the vision disappeared.  I told him I had had a nightmare and I felt safe now.

I saw a spider in the bed but did not take too much notice as it was small.  I was not afraid of it, having never had a fear of house spiders.  It was about the size of a dime, smaller than a ten pence coin, so I lifted it in my hand (it did not bite me) and I looked at it before I put it out on the balcony.  It had a fiddle or violin on its back.

I went back to bed and woke up two hours later in a very high fever with five lumps on my leg where it had already bitten me, but I didn’t realize it at the time.

Immediately Robin drove me down to Emergency at the local hospital.  An expert doctor of tropical diseases was called, instantly knowing I had been bitten, and then I described the little spider I had deposited on the balcony.  The violin gave it away.

For two years I was not well, as the bites did not ulcerate but went systemic.  Apart from the cortisone and various medical treatments, nothing seemed to work.  In desperation I tried acupuncture, herbs, everything alternative as well as strong medicine.  I became macrobiotic.

During that time, I began to write the trilogy of Cormac macAirt, a High King who lived in Ireland in the 3^rd Century.  He believed in keeping a peaceful Kingdom and was one of the first ‘believers’ in the culmination of the old and new faiths.                       A Native American from Yucatan, visiting a festival of the Miccosukees in the Everglades, told me that if one is bitten or scratched by a wild animal or insect, then that medicine is passed to the recipient.  He told me that the spider signified bringing old writings back into the new! 

At the end of two years when I was feeling a bit better, the acupuncturist introduced me to a brilliant French Homeopathist who immediately put me on a course of Ledum.  Looking up Ledum I found it was used for spider and snake bites and was known as Marsh Tea!  Not only had the Banshee saved my life by making me jump out of the bed, or rather ‘pushing’ me, but she was also giving me the remedy!

Electric Disturbances: Often when a spirit or soul is leaving this mortal coil, electricity is affected in the house. The night before my father passed, I was in the kitchen in Miami, when a light bulb fell into the sink out of the light above, as if it had been perfectly cut.  I immediately called home, feeling this was something out of the ordinary, and spoke with my father for about an hour. 

The Eagle: The next day, our son, who is the first grandson, was on his way into school when a huge sea eagle fell dead from the sky in front of him, causing the children to gather around to stare at it in disbelief as these birds are usually in the Everglades or over the sea, rarely inland.  This was the first time a bird had been a portent in the next generation, given to a child in the family.  My father left the body at the same moment in Ireland.   Everyone in the family had one sign or another at this time, or a strange dream. 

Trees: My brother had an old man he had never seen before, come to the gate and tell him it was not good to lose the ‘Bewtric’ tree as it meant an Elder would pass from the family.  Trees also have a way of reacting, especially if they have been on the family land for a long time.  

Robin and I were standing in the garden, during the latter time of his illness, when a favourite mulberry tree of ours split in half for no reason and fell.  We did have it strapped up again and it is now beginning to flourish and produce berries for the first time since his demise.

Robin and Ollie Wolfhound strolling in the garden.

Robin was home from the hospital during treatment, and one of his favourite wolfhounds Ollie (Olyfar) was sleeping at the bottom of the stairs.  Usually, he would wait for Robin to get up and walk with him around the gardens.  It was late and I was writing on the computer.  Robin’s daughter Melissa was reading, and a family friend Pam was here.  RJ, our son, was in his room.  Suddenly we all heard this huge, huge sound or cry that ripped through the house, something like a giant ship’s horn, or a wolf-type wailing that made the hairs on the backs of our necks rise, causing us to jump up immediately.   The dog was awake and shaking like a leaf, as if the sound had passed through him.  It took quite a few minutes for us to hug him and calm him down.  I raced up the stairs to check on Robin and he was sitting up in bed reading the paper.  He had an extra bar of sound in his hearing and could hear a fax machine three floors down that we could never hear.  I asked him if he had heard the dog bark or cry out and he said, no, it was quiet and peaceful, and he had not heard a thing.  I didn’t say anything then, of course, because deep in my heart I knew.  When he went back to the hospital after that occasion, sadly it was for the last time.

The night before the funeral, he was brought home and placed in the chapel refectory and Ollie slept all night beside the coffin, refusing to leave.   We had to leave doors and gates open so the dog could return to the house.  That night, all the electricity went off in the house for no reason and we were in candlelight. 

This wolfhound would run in from the garden if he heard Robin singing in the house studio and he would lean against his back where he stood playing the keyboards, and Robin would ruffle his head every now and then and call him funny made-up names.  The same dog would cry if he heard his voice singing on a show or radio for some time afterwards.  It was a sad period for us all and the dogs knew it.  They walked behind the funeral procession through the town with black bows around their necks.

On my Irish maternal side of the family, the women always received bird messages for births or deaths.  If there was an oncoming birth, a bird or a rare bird would flutter at the window to try to get in, even down the chimney.  If it was particularly sad news, a bird would be injured or sick and be in our pathway, and we felt compelled to heal it or take it somewhere so it could survive.  Sometimes a relative may be ailing and then recover once the bird flew away again.  I often had a bird in a basket, willing it to heal, and learnt from my mother how to look after birds.  She kept hens and reared little chicks.  I was born at home, miles from a hospital, and had jaundice.  The midwife told my mother to put me in the sunlight, a bit of a challenge as it was the winter solstice, longest night of the year, certainly for my mother, and the shortest day, with very little sun.  So, my father rigged up the ‘baby chick’ lamps, infra-red/ultraviolet or something and I survived to tell the tale!     

Many portents come in the way of birds or animals:   Unusual phenomena happen, like a hen suddenly crowing like a rooster, which occurred when my Grandmother passed away.  A crow sat at her son’s front door in Gloucestershire in England, until the news came from home.  But the birds also come in happy times. 

I was again in Miami one late evening, and not sure whether I was pregnant or not, when a rare bird of the most beautiful colours, obviously from a tropical rainforest, was fluttering up and down the glass door out to the dock.  I opened the door and for a moment it fluttered against my hand then flew away.  It had a long tail like a lyre bird or bird of paradise, certainly not indigenous to Florida.  I wandered down to the dock and a fish jumped in an arc out of the water and back again at the same time as a shooting star arched in the sky.  All these happened at once and I knew for sure I was now carrying a child.  It was very magical for me.  We just must be aware of these signs when they appear.  

Gormanston Castle owned by Prestons for 600 years. Photo: Patrick Comerford.

The Gormanston Foxes:  These have been well documented.  In 1876, when the Viscount Gormanston was on his deathbed, foxes came in pairs from all over the country to gather on the front lawns of the Castle at Balbriggan, County Meath.  The family name is Preston.  The Castle was acquired by a Franciscan Order.  The curious thing about these foxes was that they did not touch the poultry nor were they attacked by the dogs, but they would sit and howl and bark all night, curiously only heard by the other members of the family and not the Viscount who was passing over.  It was said that this started when the first Viscount saved a young vixen and her cubs during a fox hunt in the 17^th Century.  He did not allow hunting.

A Herd of Elephants:  They travelled for miles to be outside the home and to keep vigil of a retired elephant handler who had died.  Lawrence Anthony had helped rescue and rehabilitate some wild elephants.  He was known as the ‘Elephant Whisperer’ and often calmed traumatised elephants.  Two separate elephant herds travelled half a day from the Thula Reserve to his home to mourn his passing. 

Stray Dogs: In Mexico, there was a man who cared for wild and stray dogs, feeding them, and caring for them during his lifetime.  When he died, some of the stray dogs quietly entered the chapel and the priest and the family demanded they stay.

So many stories from all over the world, too countless to relate here.

Families in Ireland that have their Banshees: O’Grady, O’Neill, O’Brien, O’Connor, Kavanagh and O’Keeffe, Kelly, are some of the names and MacMurrough, O’Murchada, O’Donovan and Connell, O’Collins, and the MacCarthys of Desmond.

Sometimes even the Banshee sings, or music is heard with strange strains of melodies or humming, known as mouth music.  The hum can be almost deafening. 

In Mythology, Cliodhna, Cliona or Cleena was supposedly the faery Queen of the Banshees and she rules over the hills of South Munster or Desmond.  She is the patron of County Cork and a Goddess of love and beauty from the Tuatha de Danann.  She has three rare birds that eat apples from an otherworldly tree on the Island of Tir Taimgire or I-Bhreasil.  She leaves the island and is taken by a wave and sleeps to the music of Manannan macLir…. This is known in Cork and also she has connections with the Isle of Man.  She has her palace in Carrig-Cleena a rock formation about 5 miles from Mallow…where she is sometimes seen sleeping among the rocks there, like a Mermaid.  It is said that she takes a human lover.  She sings for the O’Donovans and the O’Collins.  She is the daughter of the Cailleach (Kal-yah like the Indian Kali)), a respected but feared faery woman who sweeps clean and causes natural winds in nature to cause catastrophes to cleanse the land.

The Famous Blarney Stone: This involves Cliodhna (pronounced Cleena).  Cormac Laidr MacCarthy built Blarney Castle and appealed to her for assistance when he ran into a legal problem.  She told him to kiss the first stone on his way to the court, and he won his case with great eloquence of words.  To remember Cliodhna, he had the stone put into the parapets of the castle.  However, Queen Elizabeth I was unable to negotiate with Cormac MacCarthy and she said that he only spoke ‘blarney’, not meaning a thing he said, but she did admire his eloquence and his ability to deceive her without offending her.  To this day, the kissing of the Blarney Stone is to awaken the Muse and become poetic and have the charm to get away with things!

1897 Kissing the Blarney Stone at Blarney Castle.

Cleena, Cliodhna in her capacity of the Banshee, was mentioned by John O’Donovan, the great Irish antiquarian, who wrote to his friend and said:  “When my grandfather died in Leinster in 1798, Cleena came all the way to lament his passing, but she has not been heard  ever since, lamenting any of our race, though I believe she still weeps in the mountains of Drumaleaque where so many of the race of Eoghan Mor are dying of starvation.”

Michael Collins, the Irish revolutionary used to tell wonderful tales of Cliodhna’s enchantments to do with the sea, of drownings and wrecks, and treasure troves and related her to the Sirens.  She supposedly keened for his death as told by Edith Milligan afterwards.

William Butler Yeats, who was a contemporary of Alice Milligan, admiring her poetry and plays, also spoke of the Banshee: “She has a generally good disposition, but expresses anger at the death of a betrayer.  She wails over the death of a member of some old Irish families, absorbs their sorrow and becomes solitary.  The Keen (Caoine) the funeral cry is an imitation of her cry.  If more than one Banshee arrives it is a sign that the dying person must have been very holy or brave.”

John Todhunter wrote a poem called The Banshee.  This is part of a verse:

And sometimes, when the moon

Brings tempest upon the deep.

The roused Atlantic thunders from his caverns in the west,

The wolfhound at her feet

Springs up with mighty bay,

And chords of mystery sound from the wild harp by her side,

Strung from the hearts of poets.

(He refers to her as the Banshee of the World, keening for the sorrows of the world, and calls her the Mother of Exiles, wishing for her to wail no more.)

Many male and female poets have written of the Banshee, and I also wrote of a male one: A Farshee or a Donn, in a collection of my Irish poems called: Ergot On The Rye.

VISITATION:

You came, in wisps of air, like baby’s breath

Calling without a voice

So that I was compelled to respond.

You came, like an intruder in the wrong time, the mistaken place

But I answered you

Unafraid, I confronted you,

My body in repose, paralysed upon my bed;

I stepped out and met you upon the stair.

You came, disguised to meet me

Dark, cowering in hessian cloak,

So, I felt stronger.

You came, theatrical, like an actor from some vampiric play.

But I saw through you,

Politely I asked you to leave

You advanced towards me, I wanted to protect my child,

My friends within the house.

“Please leave this dwelling at once.  Go, out by the way you came in!”

My mind-voice was loud.

I walked towards you, filled with Light, inner strength.

You went, backing down the stairs,

Dark, dark, out, out, the door was open, yawning.

You left, disintegrating into daylight and all the elements of nature.

The door closed.  You knocked.

I became aware of my body,

Movement, my baby breathing wisps of air beside me.

You were knocking.  I sat up, afraid.  The knocking was there.

But you could not come in again.  You were not welcome yet.

(This was a very good-looking gentleman who looked like a charismatic actor who came into the house in a very vivid dream, but I could see the perspective of the stairs and the glowing light.  I believe it was ‘the Donn’, (a Fearsidhe or fearshee) who visited, a male version of the Shee.  Three days later, a close relative who was very ill in hospital, left the body.)

Two other friends who were in the house were awakened by the knocking, but the security lights did not come on that are always activated by the approach of anyone coming to the door.  Neither was anyone on camera.

It seems that security lights do not deter the Banshee or the Fearshee (fearsidh…pronounced farshee, as the faery man.)

There is nothing to fear about the Banshee because she is only the messenger telling us to be aware and prepare, and the one for whom she keens, does not hear her.  There is no evil intent.  If she gives us a fright it is an awakening to possibly save ourselves from some trauma, as she did for me when I was being bitten by the spider.  She also gave me the remedy at the time although it took me two years to see it.  She is the Muse of all Laments and can stir the soul of the poet to such beautiful words of wistfulness and grieving.  She, (or he) loves the souls she (he) is with and is a spiritual member of a family or clan who shares and lessens the burden of sorrow and soothes the loneliness after the parting of a spouse, sibling, or parent.  This spirit is also a guide for the soul, and for that, we can only have respect and good wishes.  Good wishes are always blessings.

Dwina***

(Thank you to the Irish Archives in different Irish cities, and to the Kenneth Spencer Research Library in the University of Kansas, that has further writings on topics by W.B. Yeats, Lady Wilde (Oscar Wilde’s mother), Thomas Crocker, Douglas Hyde and James Stephens who wrote The Crock of Gold, one of my favourite books.)

(Thank you also to members of the ancient families who have witnessed or continue to be aware of the presence of the Banshee.)

She is part of the cosmic force that absorbs much of our sorrow, whether we be parted from someone we love or exiled from the land that we love.