Stories and Poetry Articles
Last week I was speaking with my friend, Marie, about our experiences with epiphany. She told me about one of those precious, golden moments of absolute enlightenment she once experienced upon disembarking from a commuter train in Boston.
When Cormac mac Airt was king of Ireland, he was a good king and wise, his people prospered and he was greatly loved. And if he was well loved, his children is wife was adored. And if his wife was adored, his children were cherished even moreso.Hearth Culture: Irish
I saw a picture of some newly-hatched sea turtles, spread-eagled and waving their tiny, green sea wings in a slow flight across the beach. Having left the relative safely of their nest, they were making their way — unerringly as turtles always seem to do — to the sea.
The following are original stories written by our members:
Sean McCory was doing about 90 when the bright flash of light on the road ahead caused him to slam on the brakes and skid to a halt on the shoulder.
(This story was written in thanks to three Celtic gods of healing, for my wife's successful surgery and lack of malignant cancer.)
It is said in the Book of Leinster that:
Far, far across the deep, wide sea, stretching, straining back into the mists of time; when all shapes and sizes of Sidhe leapt joyfully from Danu's loins and magic had not fled from man to the other plane, but ruled this land, there was an island within an island.