Draíocht Ceoil The Sound of Magic in Irish Traditions contains many suggestions for exercises, techniques and tips for using sound energy and music magic in your magical and spiritual practice.
Now you can avail of FREE companion videos, working through each chapter in turn, expanding on and demonstrating the exercises.
FREE VIDEOS
Simply sign up for the videos at CELEBRATING WORDS and gain access to the youtube videos. Chatpers 1 - 5 are currently available, and the next set of recordings will go up in September
Buy the book:
Draíocht Ceoil The Sound of Magic in Irish Traditions is out 28th April (uk) May 5th USA) from Moon Books.
With many people looking to suport indie retailers, small bookshops, and online sites other than the obvious ones, I wanted to provide a list of places to preprder or order when published.
Do note thanks to the Irish title the í in Draíocht is rendered as a ? in some countries, so if all else fils search for "Geraldine Moorkens Byrne" or "Dra?ocht Ceoil"
In Ireland, please consider the wonderful Alan Hannas, a shop that has a long track record of supporting Irish authors. PREORDER HERE
In Ireland & UK Waterstones is always a good option, PREORDER HERE
as is the excellent Blackwells, Available HERE
and another great option in the UK Foyles, HERE
Other options include I-music and BookDelivery
EU
In Denmark, check out William Dam
In the Netherlands, look at Bruna English Books
USA
You can check out Simon & Schuster in the US Here
S&S are also the distributor for local US bookshops to order from while if ordering in a local Irish book shop, their distributor will be Easons Wholesale.
Barnes & Noble have always been so supportive so please do check them out HERE
Also available on Awesome books online
If you spot it anywhere else, let me know and I'll update the list! Do consider ordering through your local shop where possible <3
1.When I was a kid, Halloween in Ireland was Halloweve, or indeed, Hallows 'Eve, if you listened to my third class teacher. Halloween was an "Americanism" and before the deluge of seasonally themed horror movies and spooky family films, it was rarely used. Hallow'eve was the norm.
Costumes consisted of black bin liners, with shop bought or homemade masks. In school, if you were lucky to have a teacher willing to enter into the spirit of the occasion, we painted cardboard masks, begged a length of knicker elastic from our parents and ventured forth into the night proudly sporting our creations. If there was no mask making in school, you were given a plastic mask from the local shop - it was too big, sweaty, hard sharp edges that cut into the side of your cheeks, and the elastic had to be tied tightly at the back to stop it slipping off. But they came in Witch, Frankenstein, Vampire and Generic Monster, and were highly prized.
Unlike my children, who received obscenely large hauls of sweets and treats every year, we counted ourselves fortunate to get a couple of packets of unbranded crisps and a packet or two of smarties. In the country, kids asked for "A penny for the Pookie" whereas in Dublin, we usually asked, "A penny for the Party." You might actually get a penny, or a bottle of TK minerals, or some small token towards the festivities. But the main treats to be had were fruit and nuts; apples and pears and monkey nuts, with a bag of hard shelled mixed nuts. We had a huge brass nutcracker that was pressed into service once a year, and which was reputed to have belonged to my maternal great grandmother.
But if our parties were simple, 1970s Dublin played host to some excellent bonfires, back in the days when health and safety took a backseat to "Arrah, be grand." I have vivid memories of standing close enough to be scorched, and my parents were the seventies' equivalent of helicopter parents. My husband had far more exciting experiences, in Newbridge Co. Kildare. His favourite is of the Halloweve when a giant bonfire was built in his housing estate, on a pile of spoil left over from the construction of the new neighbouring estate. Twenty feet high, this abandoned "hill" provided the perfect place to build a bonfire, visible for miles around. As was common then (and probably still is now) tyres, pallets, wood and debris were collected for weeks beforehand. The local kids dragged it all to the top of the mound, and piled it high.
Then some mischievous soul decided that a really fun prank would be to place a gas canister at its heart. The evening wore on, the flames burnt high, the canister heated up. At last, when only the "hardshaws" - the tough young fellas of the area - were left, drinking and messing, luckily around the lower slopes of the hill, the gas cannister exploded with spectacular results. It blew the stragglers down the hill, knocking some out, and lit up the sky like a war zone. If it had been on level ground, both housing estates might have needed reconstruction.
You can see why the eighties and nineties saw a crackdown on these traditional amusements...but it was far from a modern development. Pranks, some with unintended consequences, were an age old part of the night as we can see from the following report from 1900. An alarming report of a hanging body turned out to be nothing more than an effigy, left behind after the festivities.
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We carved turnips rather than pumpkins, which were definitely a import from the USA. I was well into adulthood before I saw a pumpkin in the flesh, as it were. While some decry the modernity of this imported orange vegetable, they are exponentially easier to carve and less bloodcurdlingly horrifying than the turnip.
However the turnip could be carried from house to house, adding a truly terrifying dimension to the parade of binbag clad youngsters.
Once safely home, we had traditional games, including apple bobbing and divination. I remember peeling apples, despairing of ever managing to get one continuous peel so I could throw it over my shoulder and see the initial of my future husband. Barm Brack (Breac) was eaten, with much competition to receive the hidden ring. My mother always tried to give me, the youngest, the slice containing either the ring or the coin but my sister's were vigilant and uncompromising and often the lucky slice was lifted off my plate under threat of future violence, when parental backs were turned. Other little tricks of future telling abounded, from placing nuts in the fire to combing hair by candlelight while looking in a mirror. My dad only let us try that one once though, as it resulted in hysterics when one sister claimed to have in fact seen a ghostly apparition and the rest howled with terror.
Of course, for the older people, the grandparents when we were young, had even more vivid memories of these folk practices. My friend's granddad regaled us with stories of his youth in Clare, and of the long night of Samhain spent in each other's houses, enjoying the fun. He put nuts in the fireplace and if they jumped, it was a sign (what of, depended on many factors.) My Dad had similar stories of his boyhood both in Dublin and Wicklow, of cream left out with tots of whiskey for the Good Neighbours and of the poignant empty seats left at the table, and by the hearth, so the visiting spirits would feel welcome. The next day, they would go to Mass and to the graveyard and tend the graves, but on Halloweve, on Oiche Shamhna, the loved ones came home to their own places.
My mother told us of the famous Lyon's Bracks, the barmbracks with "real gold rings" inside, with lucky winners writing to the newspapers to express their joy at finding one.
Colcannon is another tradition, and whether it was a truly traditional dish or a USA invention has been hotly debated in recent times. I grew up with this dish, curly kale and mashed potatoes with diced onion and a pound of butter. My mother grew up with it too and she is 93 now. There are references to it from as early as 1735, by a welsh traveller, who attempted to render the Irish (Gaeilge) name as Coel Callen, but it was almost certainly "Cal Ceannann" a reference to the white headed cabbage originally used before Kale became popular.
One of my favourite old songs is he Old Skillet Pot:
Ghost stories featured in our childhood celebrations but my dad could recall professional seanchaí, local celebrities, who were invited to tell tales of otherworldly apparitions and phantasms. The older generation believed without any irony; they lived in a world where these things existed, and should be respected, and they were neither dismissive nor overly squeamish about them.
A report from the Saturday Herald October 30th 1909 by Nora Tynan O'Mahony, shows the affection and importance that Halloweve held in the public imagination. Despite the decline of other traditional celebrations like Michealmas, Candlemas, and St. John's Eve, Hallow-Eve remained a cherished occasion, particularly for children with the report praising its ability, like Christmas, to bring families together, as parents set aside worries to create a festive atmosphere. It was credited with a unique ability to unite communities, and bring neighbours together. The love spells and divination aspect was important for young adults and while she concedes that some of the old customs are fading, many retain their popularity. The belief in the Sidhe and all that might walk abroad that night is matter-of-factly recounted.
An earlier report, this time in the Freeman's Journal, over thirty years earlier, on October 31st 1873, underlines the place Halloweve held in our national psyche. It confirms the widespread belief in the Sidhe, in púca and sprites, in ghosts and other entities. The same divination games are recounted, for the same reasons - to see future lovers, to find out if one was destined to be rich or poor. It highlighted the cultural importance to Ireland, a defiant note considering the politics of the era. Earlier newspaper articles sought to connect Irish traditions to Scotland, and even England, while by the later 19th century, Irish cultural identity was more publicly celebrated.
We are a little more sophisticated nowadays; pop up costume shops appear in every shopping centre before the last day of Summer has fled. Elaborate disguises, grown-up parties, commercial events have all replaced the more homely, local activities of my childhood. But, the kids still go door to door and the neighbours stand outside to see the costumes. Bonfires still burn, some official and some highly illegal. The magic has changed a little, I concede, but there is a growing resurgence in affection and respect for the older traditions. We are beginning to reevaluate and consequently, re-value, the power and importance of Halloweve. We might call it Halloween now, but it's still the ancient festival our ancestors observed.
Long may it continue. Oiche Shamhna Shona Daoibh.
On of the main activities at Halloween / Oiche Shamhna in Ireland has always been Divination, especially trying to figure out your chances of love or prosperity for the coming year. While we might tend to overlook these practices, or indeed sneer at love spells or divination, like all folk magic these traditions sprang from need, from necessity.
A peasant population, denied access to medicine, legal redress, education and even access to our own cultural heritage, took refuge in the practices of the ancestors, however imperfectly recalled. And in an era when the fate of an undowried, unwed woman was a life of drudgery and servitude, at best an unpaid skivvy in her brother's household, the chance of a household and children of her own was a matter of absolute urgency. Love, or at least, admiration from a man, was a serious business.
@draiochtceoil Some tips on Divination especially Irish traditions to keep you occupied in October :) #Samhain approaches, a perfect time to lean into folkmagic and fortune #witchcraft #Witchtips #pagan ♬ Great Things - Deeper Soaking Worship
Many of these traditions survive today, although we have replaced the homely parties and visiting of neighbours with pubs and clubs and more sophisticated entertainment. But it's fairly common knowledge that if you get the slice of Barmbrack with the ring in it, you'll definitely be married and if you comb your hair by only candlelight, you'll see a reflection of your future lover in the mirror. Some still remember how to put walnuts or hazelnuts in the fire, and see if they burn together (good news, romantically) or spring apart (bad news!) We also used to peel apples in one continuous peel, throw the length of it over our left shoulders and see what initial it formed. (In fairness, they all looked roughly like J, or G or possible lower case e, but our hopes were heavily projected on them.)
If you weren't content to wait until the lover revealed themselves, and fancied giving things a wee nudge, there were plenty of ways to encourage your love interest. Halloween is a night full of magical possibilities and liminal spaces.
While some were superstitious about going out, fearful of the entities roaming the night, others were determined to get a touch of that magic into their lives. The very brave might go to a graveyard and take a handful of soil from a recent grave. This would have to be placed on the sole of your potential suitor's boot, and ideally, sprinkled inside it too. How you were to get the boot off their foot to achieve this latter was up to you. Many contented themselves with ensuring they stood on the soil, embedding it in the sole of the footwear. They would then be haunted and tormented by the ghost who was out wandering and visiting that night, until they dreamt of you.
Presumably, the act of dreaming of you would give the hint that you might be the one.
If that was too daunting, you could ask the local Bean Feasa* or wise woman, or someone local to you who was held to have the gift of it, to "draw the eye" to you. Now, nowhere is there any suggestion that you could force someone to love you - only that you could draw their attention to you. The rest would be up to you. A Bean Feasa would make two rounds of wax, or sometimes just lumps of wax, and "introduce" them. Then they'd be buried until Lá Fhéile Bríd, the idea being that the love interest would get to know you over the time.
What if you didn't know of anyone local you could stand to marry? Well, then Halloween was a chance to ask the visiting loved ones, especially the recently departed, for a boon. You'd tell them your troubles, and hopefully by the following Spring, they would send someone good for you.
@draiochtceoil Samhain Traditions part 3. Samhain or Halloween (Halloweve) is strongly tied to remembering the dead. both the recently departed and The Ancestors are welcomed in a variety of ways. it doesn't have to be ritualistic or complicated just simple and heartfelt. #Halloween #witchcraft #Folklore #Samhain ♬ original sound - Draiocht Ceoil
The fact that the dead visited on the eve of All Hallows was a given, sincerely believed well into modern times, and even now many of us still hold to this truth. Without ritualising it, or overstating the tradition, the best place by the fire and a place at the table was kept empty, to make space for them. Good food and drink were left out, and even if you had no one specific in mind, it was manners to leave out in case the spirit of departed neighbour called by visiting the house.
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The horror films of modern times have attached an element of fear to this that really was a absent in my youth. It was a comforting and pleasant thought, that the person was nearby and could hear and participate in the festivities, albeit invisibly. But what was hugely popular and traditional at Halloween was the telling of Ghost Stories. My Dad had a fund of them, all learnt in Co. Wicklow as a child; he was the visiting Dublin kid, down from the city to visit cousins. They seem to have taken especial pleasure in telling him the most bloodcurdling tales, but if they thought it would upset him they miscalculated. He loved the stories, and remembered them well into old age. Some were told about neighbours, but often people recounted their own personal experiences. One he heard, that you'll find repeated by various sources, from all over the country, in The National Folklore Collection is The Ghost Funeral.
Not confined to Halloween night, but regularly associated with it, the story generally goes along these lines - an unwary person, out late at night, either through their own folly or through unavoidable misfortune, meets a funeral procession on the road. It is approaching them, forcing them to turn and walk three steps with the procession (failure to do so with any funeral was bad manners, the height of insult to the dead and their family, and often resulted in being cursed by priests as well as bereaved.) As they walk and nod to the others in the procession, they realise they know no one, and indeed, why would there be a funeral at that hour of the night? Once they stop and turn back to resume their own journey, the procession disappears. A variation is that the traveler hears the noise of a funeral but cannot see it. Wise travellers turned back three steps anyway and showed respect to the dead.
This is only one of the ghost stories told that night, adding another layer to the mystery of the evening.
Traditions varied across the Island, and tastes changed with time, but in many ways the constants of Family, Community, Magic and Death remain throughout the long history of Ireland's unique festival.
Part Two coming soon, some modern memories of Halloween traditions!
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@draiochtceoil Suantrí is soothing music. We need it right now. #soundmagic #Irishwitch #witchesoftiktok ♬ original sound - Draiocht Ceoil
Suantraí is one of the 3 strains of Music in Irish traditions: it refers to soothing, calming music (and lullabies) and it's the music we need in the world right now ;) not to avoid the work that needs to be done, but to carve out moments of peace, and comfort, to enable the work to be done.
Put your Suantraí music in the comments: remember, not upbeat or energising music. That would be Geantraí - but soothing, comforting music. Check out my own choices in the comments under the video.
The Threshold of Winter
In my class on Urban Paganism, for the Irish Pagan School*, I talk about how the city - all cities, all villages and communities - have their own liminal days. Just as we see the passing of the seasons in the countryside, mark the advent of Spring by the unfurling of buds or the onset of winter by the cascading leaves, we can see the "seasons" of the city as we travel through the year.
Right now, over the last few weeks, we see one of the most powerful liminal times in city life. As the first blush of russet and orange spreads across the parks and hedges, in the city centre and the leafy suburbs alike, the billboards change from "Summer fun," to "Back to School." As August ticks past, we cling to the precious moments of freedom. Kids live in the moment, the Summer holidays are endless when you are young and the threat of classrooms and uniforms seems unreal. But parents know, oh we know! Part of us welcomes the structure of the school year and - if you are like me, and hate routine, perhaps you dread it as much as any child.
We live in a kind of bubble over the whole of June, July and August. The length and timing of your school break may vary, but the emotions remain universal. The great promise of the holidays yields inevitably to the reality of juggling work and kids and weather and costs and time online versus time outside, until lack of structure becomes routine. But all the while, lurking behind these sometimes halcyon and sometimes fraught, long days and endless Irish twilights, September lies in wait. It will get us all, no matter how far we travel or how many poolside, sunscreen filled, ham and crisp sandwiches on picnics we provide.
The traditional first day of Autumn in Ireland has always been August 1st. The Irish for September is Mean Fomhair, Mid Autumn. But ah, the real moment we cross from Summer to Autumn is the day we go shopping for school shoes, grey trousers, navy tracksuits and A4 sized, hardback copies. This, more than any ripening of blackberries or fading of flowers, marks the moment we admit that the year is turning, the cold and dark are approaching and there will come a morning when we lay out the prescribed garments of the student, the sturdy and boring shoes of knowledge and the constricting tie of education. The endless quest for school lunch ideas brings us back, inexorably, into the clutches of the coming term.
But like any liminal moment, there is light as well as dark. They stand on the threshold of new experiences, of worlds opening up, of teams and matches and projects and the swings and roundabouts of friend groups and drama. They will emerge from this school year transformed, as they do every year, butterflies opening wings to the cheerful sun, eyes bright with new understanding, one step closer to adulthood. There are mid-term breaks, Halloween parties, Christmas and Easter and sports and art to break the year.
And the whole city feels it, the old and young, the childfree and the child-rearing alike. The opening of the schools changes everything around us. Traffic patterns change as parents turn chauffeurs and bike lanes are filled with giddy wheelies and the lethal whirr of e-scooters. The pulse of the city quickens again between seven and nine in the morning, and those who live near schools steel themselves against the daily battle for parking in the afternoon. The shopping centres are emptier, the gangly teenaged giggle-fest moving to the weekends. Cinemas are once again the privileged ground of the retiree for matinees and coffee shops find half the tables available now that six teens no longer huddle over one diet coke and a packet of Tayto crisps for the morning.
Step now across the line, while the city stirs itself. Mark the signs of this great movement, make altars to the passing gods of School and Work and rejoice, for the city knows how to shelter us in Winter, as well as in Summer.
* Irish Pagan School, All Courses
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Especially if you're sensitive to tone, inflexion and nuance. Like being in a too noisy room, it can prompt a flight/fight reflex. If you have Misophonia it can be painful, physically and emotionally and not necessarily just shouting. Insulting tones, sneering, a condescending inflexion, can be more than enough to grate on your nerves. Sensitivity to sound energy makes such altercations more intense, on deeper levels. If you wonder why you can't shrug off snide comments, or seem to identify the undercurrent more clearly than others, you may fall into this category.
Online is no exception. Have you ever posted something, especially in support of what is clearly basic decency and human rights, only to have a bigot or far right hate goblin attack you? Do you dread opening your socials, when you see angry notifications? feel as if they can reach through the screen - feel as bad as if you were in the room with them? while sound energy is not directly at play here, a sensitivity to words, their meanings, their weight, can lend extra import to these exchanges.
And sensitive people are often sensitive to injustice, and put themselves in the front line, but the backlash takes a huge toll on their emotions and mental health. This is unfortunate, and yet, still no excuse not to do the work.
Confrontation is sometimes necessary.
Further to some great discussions recently about folk magic traditions and their role in community building (both historically and in this fractured present) I wanted to share a few thoughts on joy and humour in folk magic. And in spirituality, in our relationship with our inner sacred landscapes and our deities.
For many people, trying to reconnect to their indigenous folk traditions, or trying to connect to those of their ancestors/those that call to them from another culture, can be a long and difficult path. If undertaken with respect and commitment this is necessary. Learning history, lore, traditions takes time and study. Without this you're just dressing up UPG in the trappings of a culture.
But it's also important to remember that the real daily practice of these traditions wasn't some dry, academic pursuit. In fact if we examine the many examples of folk magic in Irish folk lore, they often centre on particular liminal days especially the festivals inherited from our pre-Christian and early medieval past. Imbolc, Bealtaine, Lughnasadh and Samhain all have some common traditions and some unique to each, but part of the commonality is the way that magical practices were framed in the context of "play." They are often communal (e.g. building bonfires, telling fortunes by the fireside, Funerary games) and they involve teasing, humour, fun, laughter and joy. They are designed to invoke pleasurably mixed feelings of excitement, embarrassment, happiness.
With funerary traditions, they were noticeable for bringing laughter into that most serious of events, Death. This was not some kind of disrespect towards the dead but rather a kindness towards the living. It distracted from grief, and at the same time, shielded the private grief of the family under a mask of public raucousness. It was often misunderstood by authorities both clerical and political, and the Irish wake was castigated for its lack of decorum, yet it remains one of the best psychological blueprints for healthy grieving.
Whether seeking connection to deity, the Ancestors or the archetypes in the Otherworld, it is important to retain a sense of warmth and joy. Our gods, and our ancestors are not dry and intellectual concepts, but full of nuance. Their accessibility to us is something to treasure. They too demonstrate humour, and from the literature we know they took joy in ordinary life, in connections, in love and alleviated times of pain with music and joy.
In Draíocht Ceoil, the very nature of the tradition with its emphasis on music, singing and performance lends itself to joyous practice. Not only that but the legacy of the Filí (poets) with their elaborate word play and use of rich poetic forms for magical and mundane uses is impossible to separate from a joyful, vibrant sense of the power of sound energy. One of the three strains of magical music is Geantraí, the music of joy.
All the careful study of musicology, of sound, of the affect of music on the brain or of the Old Irish poetic forms becomes mere ashes unless fueled and tempered by a love of music and words, by joy in their power. No great musical talent is necessary - we need to overcome self consciousness and raise our voices with pleasure. We need to let words resonate, roll them off our tongues, savour them. We need to invite joy into our practice.
It's the missing ingredient, and it's pure magic.
Draíocht Ceoil, The Sound of Magic in Irish Traditions will be published by MOON books, date to be announced.
Irish Pagan School Class on Draíocht Ceoil
Irish Pagan School Class on The Rosc
Today I was reading a headline in the British papers that seemed to come straight from a crime novel; the case itself is tragic, and current, and involves the loss of a real person, but the alibi presented by the accused is as twisty as an Agatha Christie plot.
I take a lot of inspiration from newspapers. Not just alibis or details of crimes but often a seemingly innocuous story will spark off a chain of thought. An important plot point in The Body Count was inspired by a newspaper article on abandoned safe boxes held by banks across Ireland and plans to finally open them. What, I wondered, would we find in them?
Another article inspired the plot theme for The Body Beautiful (out May 23) A fitness craze in America was criticised for its cult-like structure. Although to date they haven’t tried to effect a coup, the idea was planted for The Progress, a sinister cult-like "wellness" group with political affiliations.
Old newspaper accounts of murder are fascinating, both for the style of reporting and the details of the crime itself. It's good to hark back to an era without instant communication, social media, phones, ot ubiquitous cameras and pare the story back to its basics. Whodunnit, how and why!
So many ideas, so few hours in the day to write...
"Reapers of Justice" Anne Frehill
Set during one of my favourite periods of Irish history, the revolutionary years between the Rising and Independence, Reapers of Justice is the story of a young schoolteacher, Sarah Murphy, in love with a freedom fighter, Sean . 
Join me on Liffey Sound FM on Sunday 30th at 11 am as I talk writing, books and Caroline Jordan with Teresa Quinn on the excellent Bookline programme.
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COMING SOON! A new blog series, where the main characters of great modern books, for adults and kids, answer all the questions we want answered!
From grilling detectives to chatting with adorable monsters - these fictional characters will walk off the page and be interviewed.
Follow the blog below or follow me on Facebook or Twitter @gercelt
AUTHORS - If you'd like your main character to be interviewed, email me with the heading "INTERVIEW" - outline your book, character and genre and I'll send you appropriate questions. Answer as creatively as possible and provide any images you'd like included. Also don't forget all your social and media links.
End of Part one.
1.
On of the main activities at Halloween / Oiche Shamhna in Ireland has always been Divination, especially trying to figure out your chances ...
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