Hello again folks... (well,as best I can tell, "folk" is more accurate):)
Thought I might begin to disclose a bit more about the author of this here humble post. Now, I've discovered over my years of writing that much of my best material shows up in the guise of letters.In fact what gave me the idea to begin baring my soul here was the recurrence of the above statement while proofreading a letter typed to a very dear friend this very e'en. My first inclination was to reproduce a portion of that letter here-- the part whence in catching this friend up on recent events in my life made pretty good history for anyone caring to learn a bit more of its author.
However upon arriving here to begin the peeling of that proverbial onion, a recent conversation with my good coffee-driven accomplice made me realize that a better way to start might be to disclose some of why I chose to so name this blog . That and the fact that I am still in the learning stages of computery and don't want to confound my night with trying to import that letter/file from the eather hence:)
First, Cygnus IS my name; not the one you'll see typed on the piece of paper that proves (HA!) my existence, but my chosen Craft name. It is, in essence, MY essence. Cygnus is Latin for the avian commonly called a swan.
This name holds deep spiritual significance for me, and adding to that significance is a synergistic bond with the other "part" of the name:MacLlyr.
MacLlyr-- aka Lir, Llyr, and many other variations of the spelling, is a Celtic Deity, a god of the sea. Story has it that Lir's wife Aefe was so jealous of her husband's love for his children (her stepchildren) that in a fit of rage she cursed them to remain in the form of swans for 800 years.
In the Irish tongue, Mac (or Mc as it is commonly shortened to today) means literally "son of".
Hence the tie-- Cygnus, the son of Llyr.
The story is commonly known in Irish folklore as The Children Of Lir; the best version I've ever
read is in Michael Scott's Irish Folk & Fairytale Omnibus. The children, resigned to their fate, would float upon the waters of Lake Derravarragh, and sing, and
"Their music was not of this world...it could sooth the most violent warriors and calm the crazed beasts, it could lighten the heaviest hearts or break the hardest. And in the evenings as the sun dipped behind the far distant mountains and shed its last light across the dark waters of the lake, the children would sing. and the crowded lakeside would grow silent, listening to the ancient lays and ballads of the DeDanann, or the softer, sadder songs composed by the four."
I am Cygnus, folks, and this is my song...
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