The New Moon in Mutable Air conjoined Alnitak and Alnilam in Buaile an Bhodaigh (Orion’s Belt) on the 15th of June 2026 at 03:53 am BST
She wandered slowly through the glade, oblivious to the lark’s toning, the dew upon the dawn, and the gentle siosarnach of the birch leaves touching the sky. Even the solas of an ghrian funnelling through the canopy could not stir her from her thoughts, as she veered from the yellow bricked path onto the wild carpet, absently breathing in the sharp scent of crushed ramson stems.
Her abstracted steps carried her deeper through the verdure until her Way was met by a tumbled, mossy cobbled limestone famine-wall. Beyond this aged boundary, the dense woodland gave way to an open, rolling pasture where a flock of sheep absently grazed amidst the morning mist.
Yielding to leaden thoughts spinning around her mind, she sat upon the damp, weathered stone. Drawing out from her pocket a leather-bound journal, her inked fingers trembling as she prepared to pour the content of her heart onto the cotton-rag pages.
Suddenly, from absolute nowhere, as though he had suffused from a mist, appeared Ernan. Stooped, his curved back bent by the weight of many winters, his gnarled hands folded quietly over a wooden shepherd’s staff, Éabha noticed three bluebells nestled in his Belt.
Scimpliní glistening from his blue oceans, he reached into his coat and placed in her palm, a small piece of resin, pale and dense. The cold-sweet breath of frankincense rose as she breathed in.
Breathing out, her world spiralling as three stars twinkled at the edges of her awareness, as before her stood the figure of an old lady. In her hands she held a spectre of light. Three small gems glistened from the petrified shaft, amber at the base, sunstone in the centre and gold at the top.
Drifting forward, effortlessly closing the distance between them without disturbing a single blade of the wild carpet, without a sound, the petrified shaft was brought to rest gently against Éabha’s spine.
A quiet hum emanated from the spectre, as an ascending warmth surged forth, enveloping her in a blue-white aura. A deep orange tone emanated out from the amber, as Éabha felt heat rise from her root, flooding her with images of those who made it possible for her to live. The current climbed steadily through her until she felt the green of her heart open up with a clear and resonant ‘C’, as the sunstone flared, unlocking the hidden architecture of her heart. As the energy finally reached the gold at the apex, her mind stilled, giving way to the vast, infinite possibility of an unwritten future as she felt the tenor tone of a clear G, open her up to the vast Oneness of Everything.
“Give yourself to the one who already knows your breath”, spoke the Cailleach, in a soft and gentle timbre, her eyes holding Éabha with the patience of deep water. “Breathe out the stór you have been listening for. They are not the sun-stone who will light your heart”, she said as she pointed a finger towards her chamber of lOve. “The radiant one inside you has been making its music within you for as long as you have lived. All you need do is breathe into your heart, and you will feel the sustaining caress of anáil in your core.”
Inhaling deeply, Éabha let out a long, breathy sigh and felt the Ruach move through the opened chamber of her chest, the sacred breath of gOd circulating through the space her grief had cleared.
Hearing in the distance the consonant bleating of the lambs, the blue-white radiance softened back into the drifting morning mist, the warmth within her spine continuing its gentle ascent through her breath, she opened her eyes to Ernan’s greeting smile. His staff nowhere to be found, his back found the full length of itself, his coat hanging differently from squared shoulder, his face lifted, he inclined his head to her. He looked at her for a long moment, and then turned, walking back across the gleann towards his herd.
A white dove settled upon the wall beside her, its small head tilting once toward her before it lifted into the brightening June morning, climbing without effort until the open pasture held only its absence. Éabha rose, her journal held loosely at her side, and felt the morning receive her differently, the light generous where it had been flat, the air easy in her chest. As she walked back through the glade, the lark found her again, its toning spilling silver through the brightening woodland, and this time, she heard it.
Completed on the 17th of May at 12:41 pm BST
