The Fairy Rades of Samhain

Pierce the Veil and travel beyond, to the lands betwixt and between. On this most magickal of days, venture forth into the mists between the worlds, and listen to the tales of the Fae--of those who seek refuge and revelry, haunts and homes. For they are truly never as far away as we think...

WE ARE GOING TO SALEM!
Instagram: @beyondtheseaspodcast
EMAIL ME: beyondtheseaspodcast@gmail.com
Tarot Collaboration: @thefeatherwitchnyc
Weekly Book: An Carow Gwyn
Podcast website: https://beyondtheseas.buzzsprout.com/
More info: https://www.kierandanaan.com/beyond-the-seas

WINE COLLAB!!!  🍷
Make sure to follow Iruai Winery on Insta, and order your wine from their website:
@iruaiwine
iruaiwine.com

Join us on Patreon! 🎬
Patreon.com/BeyondtheSeas

Author Interview Collaboration 📚
Crossed Crow Books (@crossedcrowbooks)

Sources 🌎
-"Horned Witches, The." Emerald Isle, emeraldisle.ie/the-horned-witches.
-"Samhain." Emerald Isle, emeraldisle.ie/samhain.

Music 🎵
"Pappa" by mee
"Intimacy" by Ben Winwood
"The View from the Attic Window" by The SoundKeeper
"Merciful" by Gruber
"Irish Mountains" by Ben Winwood

Cheers Magick Makers,
Kieran

Chapters

• 0:00 Listen...
• 2:48 Grand Tidings!
• 10:03 The Fairy Rades of Samhain
• 22:35 The Horned Witches
• 30:35 Outro

Transcript

Listen. 

Can you hear it?

Can you feel it?

The sounds of magick. 

The Otherworld. 

The Spirits. 

Don’t you hear them calling?

Their laughter, and their roar?

The chill in their air, as they pass by ever so near. 

And sweep you into the Spiral Dance. 

It is so difficult to not want to be swept away,

To float off into the revels and delights. 

Into the magick of the Unknown. 

The Otherworld. 

Do you dare to leave this world behind,

And join in with the spectral host?

To leave forever the joys and sorrows

Of Humankind?

And experience, forevermore, 

The moonlit nights of dancing and life?

Do you dare?

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            Grand tidings and welcome to you on this, the fifty-second episode, of Beyond the Seas. My name is Kieran and here we are again, back at it for another week. Happy, Happy, Happy Samhain everybody! AND! We are about a week and change away from the podcast’s one year anniversary, can you believe it?? I am so, so, so excited to be barreling towards that amazing milestone—and to share it with all of you, Magick Makers. Thus, the plugs time: @beyondtheseaspodcast, over on Insta, and Claudia’s account, @thefeatherwitchnyc, to follow along with our weekly tarot collaboration—wherein Claudia teaches the tarot one card at a time, one week at a time. Also, our collaborations with Crossed Crow Books, @crossedcrowbooks, and Iruai Winery, @iruaiwine. Finally, consider signing up for one of the tiers over on our Patreon, patreon.com/BeyondtheSeas. We are constantly coming up with new material to drop over there for all of you to enjoy, once you sign up: an interview with GennaRose Nethercott, guided meditations, rituals for the seasons and moons, and so many more. Finally, please leave a five-star rating and review, on your platform of choice, so the show may course its way through the interwebs and find new Magick Makers the world over. I am so, so, so happy you are all here, sharing some time with me on the show, today.

            And now, artistic and literary updates! Did you know, auditioning for Broadway is one of the most rewarding…but stressful things? I had one last week and it went really well, but the energy on the entire floor of that building was just too chaotic. Needless to say, you somehow gotta get into the right mindset and knock it out of the park. Which is what I did hahaha. Anyway, the book: so this past week, I have been diving more deeply into the realm of the Fae with Robin Artisson’s An Carow Gwyn. That is one of my absolute, all-time favorite books on the Craft—and I could not be happier to have the time to get back into the delicious teachings of it. With Samhain being today, it is abundantly appropriate that 

            And now, the Card of the Week! The energy this week has been all over the place, and I texted Claudia this little tid bit: the amount of pennies and coins I have seen on the ground, throughout New York, is quite a lot. There is a large amount of spirit messages coming through this week that I simply cannot ignore. Also, lots of chills and cold winds, when the weather is warm—always a sign that a spirit is nearby. And it is apt that this week, Claudia pulled The Page of Swords as our energetic guide. The Fire Breather, she calls it. By first listening to the messages of Those We Yearn to Reach, in this most liminal of times, we are able to breathe life into our desires and affirmations—thus creating the Sword of Truth and knowledge in our lives. By honoring the Ancestors and the Spirits of the Land, we are in turn honoring ourselves—and the way forward, and the way back. Listen to their voices on the wind today, as you peer through the Veil and relate to your spirit family once more. Then, take their messages and forge your sword of truth, fire breather. This is a most magickal week we have coming up ahead, indeed. 

            And now, the Wine of the Week! We are back to the white wines again this week, folks, as we travel into the penultimate bottle from Iruai Wine. I pulled out the winery’s 2023 Moonstones Chenin Blanc. I took the first sip and I literally said, “WOW!” I was shocked at how much I liked this wine: fizzy, juicy, smooth, buttery, and silky all at the same time. The first scents I picked up were oak and pear, almost like a spring-time forest. And the first tastes were jasmine and peach. Then a ton of pear and peach as the wine settled in. I felt it glide more over the middle of mouth, which was super delectable. Food wise, pair this with your spicy cheeses, spicy stews, spicy noodles, spicy everything! I find this wine has the power to cool down and settle fiery things—so go ahead, order a bottle or a case and settle into the coolness of it all. 

            And, finally, this week’s topic. The power of the Otherworld is no stronger, or closer, than today. And so too are the Hostly Haunts and Witching Powers. Throughout mythology, specifically Irish Mythology, lay tales and lore of these movements betwixt and between. And better way to honor them than through the recounting of their information, and a tale or two of their revels?

            Ergo, grab your favorite bottle of red, find a comfy chair, and close your eyes as I tell you the tale of The Fairy Rades of Samhain—and take you…

            Beyond the Seas. 

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            Samhain. Halloween. All Hallow’s Eve. My favorite night of the year. And the most magickal, am I right? Of course, there is a slew of information out there about this very night: where it came from, how it got here, what it represents, and how it morphed into a night of frolic, tricks, and treats. But what I am concerned most about today is the lore and story behind Samhain—specifically where it came from, and what it represents. The following information comes from the Emerald Isle website, from its article entitled, simply, “Samhain.”

            “Samhain was one of the four great fire festivals of the old Irish and the Tuatha De Danann, along with Imbolc, Beltane and Lughnasa, and the most important one for it was the last crossroads and a reminder that all life was fleeting.

            “Samhain was also called (Fell Mongvin) Féile Moingfhinne, or the Festival of Mongfhionn, and that “women and the rabble make petitions to her” at Samhain.

            “The darkling Gaelic lord of the dead whose name was Donn reminded them of his grim presence on Samhain, and of him it was written ‘To me, to my house, you shall come after your death.’

            “All boundaries were to be avoided on Samhain, especially the border between one man's land and his neighbours, as well as bridges and crossing places, for it was here that one would most likely meet the shade of one long gone, a sidhe, or a fairy cackling…

            “Many feared to go outside at all on Halloween, as it was written, ‘according to the popular belief, it is not safe to be near a churchyard on Hallow Eve, and people should not leave their homes after dark, or the ghosts would pursue them... if on that night you hear footsteps following you, beware of looking round; it is the dead who are behind you, and if you meet their glance, assuredly you must die.’

            “In fact the only place worse than a bridge at this time of year was a graveyard or burial mound, for fear their might be a new grave in the morning!

            “In the old days all fighting and hunting ended on this day, except for the bold Queen Medb who chose this day to begin her cattle raid on Cooley. The Fianna would return from the forests and settle back among the people, and Lugh came to Tara on this same night, before later fighting the second battle of Moy Tura on Samhain.

            “(Ahgellehvvv na Shenorach) Acallam na Senórach, the Colloquy of the Elders, tells how three female werewolves emerged from the cave of Cruachan each Samhain to kill livestock and the unwary, but were defeated by the warrior Cailte of the Fianna.

            “Celebrations began when the sun set, for that was the beginning of the new day to the Gaels, peace was declared on pain of eternal exile, and they held enormous feasts and wild gatherings filled with dancing and displays of skill for seven full days and nights. These were Samhain itself and the three days before and after. Cattle were brought down from the summer pastures and slaughtered, some ritually, which persisted in parts of Ireland until the nineteenth century, and tremendous bonfires were lit across the land with arcane ceremonies.

            “The old druids would chant their spells and cast their witch-stones and sacrifices into each fire, making sure only to feed the flames only with certain kinds of wood and bone, which is why they were called “bone fires”. These fires were said to have protective and cleansing powers, keeping old night at bay and harrowing sickness from the people, and logs or sods of burning turf were brought from the fires to homes and hearths around the country.

            “Seers would gaze long into the flames, throwing in popping hazelnuts and rocking back and forth, humming to themselves or spinning in wild dervishes. They sought to peer through the cracks and gain hidden knowledge, for during this liminal or threshold festival the ancient burial mounds were open, acting as as portals to the otherworld!

            “The boundaries between the worlds grew thin, as they say, and all manner of creatures crossed over from the lands of the dead to our own. They were appeased with rich food and heady drink, and a place was set for them at the feast. Candles were lit in the windows to guide them home and tales were told of their deeds as their memory was celebrated.

            “…Mumming, guising, or what we today call trick-or-treating is another very ancient part of the Samhain festivities. It may have begun when the Fianna or Kerns donned the masks of wild animals lighting lanterns within and above them, and ran through settlements demanding offerings, possessed as they believed by the people of the mounds, the dead. Hazelnuts, a sign of divine wisdom, and apples, symbolising immortality, were especially appreciated!

            “On Hallowe'en it was the custom for any children in the house to be sprinkled with holy water, and sometimes a dead ember from the hearth would be placed in their little beds or cribs. Animals and livestock were also sprinkled with holy water, as well as doors, windows and passages…

            “None should eat wild blackberries after this night, and children should touch no growing fruit at all, for it was believed that the Púca had spat poison upon them.

            “There were a wide variety of prescriptions to protect against fairies on Samhain – you should carry a black handled (or perhaps blackthorn-handled) knife wherever you go, and if you couldn't manage that, having a steel needle stuck in your collar was considered a good warding method. If you or someone else happened to be caught among them, casting a book or shaking the dust from the bottom of your shoes was said to drive them off, and failing that, to turn your coat inside-out so they couldn't recognise you was sure to confuse and dismay them.

            “A special Oíche Shamhna cross called a Parshell cross offered particularly good protection, and leaving a plate of food outside for the Good Folk would hopefully ensure their goodwill.

            “It was the time for tricksters and young people would take the wheels off carts and put them on the roofs of houses, or steal cabbages from the fields, or paint anyone they found laying around sleeping.

            “Other traditions included placing a lantern on the grave of a loved one, putting beans and nuts into the fire to watch them jump, if they jumped apart a couple might split up, making offerings at the church for the holy souls, melting lead through a key into water to try to foretell your future jobs or even destiny, and putting a snail between two plates to try to read the future in its trail.

            “…In some places the "supéar ar balbh" took place, the dumb supper, which was eaten at either midnight or dusk. No words were spoken nor songs were sung during this strange candle-lit meal, and everything was laid out backwards, including the order of dishes being served. Guests might wear masks as they ate, while a chair sat empty for any passing family ghosts that might wish to join.

            “Above all else though, in Ireland that was, Samhain was the time for fairies, and while you should never go into a ring fort or near a lone hawthorn on this night, you could stand nearby and hear the sounds of revelry from within! Some particularly foolish people held that you could even strike a deal with the more wicked fairies at this time of year by crawling through a briar rooted at both ends while making your request of them!

            “This was the time when the Sidhe tribes would move around from place to place, and whether you lived in a town or in the countryside you'd do well to keep both eyes open. And even that sometimes might not be enough, for you might find yourself completely lost even on a short walk! According to a book written in the late 19th century, "the passerby can hear the sound of music coming from some steep rock, or if a man in the dusk of the evening is looking for some stray animal he experiences their tricks by going astray and wandering about himself, and then he hears them laughing aloud at him in his difficulty."

            “And a tale from County Leitrim, on Hallow's Eve, as a young fellow was going home, he chanced to pass a fort, and heard the most beautiful music he had ever listened to in his life. As he stopped to listen, a grand castle seemed to appear before him, and he was invited to enter. Inside he found full of little men running about, and one of them came to him and told him on no account to take any refreshment there or it would be the worse for him, he took nothing.

            “By-and-bye he saw them all trooping out. He followed, and noticed that they all dipped their fingers in a large cask outside the entrance door and rubbed their fingers across their faces. He accordingly dipped his finger in the liquid and rubbed it over one of his eyes. In an instant there was a fine horse ready for him, and away with him and the others over the country, and over the whole world.

            “Towards morning he found himself lying on the butt of an old haystack, about half-a-mile from his own door, and getting up, he made his way home. The next day he had occasion to go into the market town, and whom should he see, but all his friends of the night, mingling with the people of the place, and going up and down through the market.

            “What must he do but up and speak to some of them, and asked them how they did. Said one to him, “How can you see us?” So he told them that he had dipped his finger in the barrel before the castle door and rubbed it over his right eye. That instant as he spoke the little man struck his eye with a stick he had, and took the sight from it, and it was no more he saw either the good people or anything else with that eye.”

            Refill your drinking horns, your goblets, your chalices, for the second half of The Fairy Rades of Samhain, after this brief break. 

            (transition music)

            What follows now is an interesting tale of the Fairies, specifically seen through The Horned Witches. I find this tale to be fun, witty, and educational: there are grains of truth buried within its depths that suggest a timely structure to our Samhain practices. Here, now, is the folktale, The Horned Witches. 

            “Strange are the ways of the Fairies of Ireland, and strange the look about them, but for all their wild and untamed manner they follow rules written in the ripples of willow-branches on still ponds, and laws murmured by the echo of birdsong in deep wells.

            Once there was a woman sitting in her cottage, a humble enough abode, and she was making wool by the fire as women used to do, for it would fetch a fine price at market and help to buy butter and meat for the Sunday dinner, when she heard a thundering knock at the door.

            “Open up and let me in,” cried a voice like cracking glass.

            “Who's there?” asked the woman of the house.

            “I am the witch of the one horn!” came the response. Puzzled but smiling a little, for she thought one of her neighbours was playing a Samhain joke a few days early, she laid aside her work and opened the door.

            “A woman came in, but an odd sort of woman, with skinny legs longer than her body which stepped slowly yet quickly like a spider, lank and matted grey hair, and a face hidden behind it from which two beady eyes glittered. But most striking of all was the creature's horn, which curved like a bull's straight from the middle of her forehead!

            “She sat down by the fire and began to make wool with violence and great haste, her knees up past her shoulders, and the woman of the house was too aghast to say anything or do anything but hold her hand to her mouth.

            “All of a sudden the strange visitor paused and hissed “Where are the other women? They delay too long!” And with that the door was hammered again.

            “Open up!” came a peculiar voice from outside, and again the mistress felt herself obliged to rise and open to the call, and immediately a second witch entered, having two horns on her forehead, and in her hand a wheel for spinning wool.

            “Give me place,” she said, “for I am the Witch of the two Horns,” and she began to spin as quick as lightning.

            “And so the knocks went on, and the call was heard, and the witches entered, until at last twelve women sat round the fire, the first with one horn, the last with twelve horns.

            “They carded the thread and turned their wheels, like great spiders weaving a dreadful web they spun, and grey wool hung in sheets and ropes from the beams and walls – all arms and legs they were, and as they worked they spoke no words but sang only an ancient rhyme. The woman of the house was struck dumb and could not move with it, nor her family either, who were trapped in sleep throughout.

            “Then one of the witches called to her in the old language, telling her to make them a cake, and she found she could move again. Casting about herself for something to bring water from the well so that she might mix a cake, she could find nothing except the basin she'd used to wash the feet of her children, but the witches hissed and spat.

            “None of that feet-water,” they said, “take a sieve and bring water in that instead!” and oh how the villainesses cackled!

            “So the lady of the house went to the well, but of course she couldn't hold any water in it, and she began to wonder what mischief the witches were working on her family while she was away, when a soft light rose from the well, and with it a voice:

            “Take yellow clay and moss,” it said, “and plaster the sieve with it – that will hold water for you!” And other things also it told her, but she did as she was bid and it held well enough. Then the voice said “Go back into your house and find the north corner, when you get there sing out – the mountain of the Sidhe women and the sky over it is all on fire!”

            “And so she did.

            “When the witches inside heard the call, they started shrieking and lamenting and tearing at the wool, which by now was like to a second wall inside the house. They ran forth howling and sprinting with haste that was horrific to see towards Sliabh Namon, where they lived for the most part, except for the times when oak leaves turned yellow.

            “Remembering then the other things the Spirit of the Well had told her, the mistress of the house prepared for their return – and she wasn't long waiting!

            “First to break their spells she sprinkled the water in which she'd washed her feet outside her front door, which was in truth her only door. Then she took the cake the witches had made while waiting for her, made from meal mixed with blood drawn from her sleeping family, and she put bits of the cake into the mouth of each sleeper, so restoring them to healthy normal rest.

            “She took the cloth they had woven and laid it half in and half out of a chest with a cold iron padlock, and lastly she dropped a great oak crossbeam across the door, and sat herself down.

            “When the witches came back they were in a rage of anger, and so high did they leap that they could almost look down the chimney.

            “Open! open!” they screamed, “open, feet-water!”

            “I cannot,” said the feet-water, “I am scattered on the ground, and my path is down to the Lough.”

            “Open, open, wood and trees and beam!” they cried to the door.

            “I cannot,” said the door, “for the beam is fixed behind me and I have no power to move.”

            “Open, open, cake that we have made and mingled with blood!” they cried again.

            “I cannot,” said the cake, “for I am broken and bruised, and my blood is on the lips of the sleeping children.”

            “Then the witches rushed through the air with great cries, and fled back to Sliabh Namon, uttering strange curses on the Spirit of the Well, who had caused their ruin, but the woman and the house were left in peace, and a mantle dropped by one of the witches in her flight was kept hung up by the mistress in memory of that night; and this mantle was kept by the same family from generation to generation for five hundred years after.”

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            The stories, research, and production elements were done and edited, respectively, by me, Kieran, with sources attached in the description. If you want to be a guest on the show, or have a topic you wish me to explore and discuss, send me an email at beyondtheseaspodcast@gmail.com. And be sure to hit the follow button, on whichever platform you enjoy the podcast, and look forward to more content next week. Until then, seek the veil between the worlds, and allow yourself to travel…Beyond the Seas.