Brigid of Kildare took on significance for me five years ago in 2004. I was writing a novel manuscript, and I wanted the guitarist to give Raven a patron saint pendant, and I had to pick a saint. There were certain themes that were starting to emerge in the manuscript. To perpetuate the memory of the gallant Dr. Hazelrigg who taught British Lit. from the Norton Anthology of English Literature at Centre, I was going to pull in the concept of a Tintern Abbey. The concept was, according to Hazelrigg, a place so beautiful that your spirits would soar just thinking of it. When we read Wordsworth’s Tintern Abbey, Hazelrigg went around the room, and asked each of us, one by one, where was our Tintern Abbey. Mine was my grandfather’s farm on the Ohio River near the Big Bend. Now the real Tintern Abbey is on the River Wye in Wales. Rivers and streams are key symbols in my work, so it fit.
On April 25, 2004, I was sitting in Christ United Methodist Church in Chapel Hill, and
Raegan May was delivering one of his inspiring sermons, and this one was about the thin place in Celtic mythology. My research on or thin places led me to a Celtic lunar goddess, none other than Brighid. When I read about Brighid (say breed) and learned that she was a poet and a healer, I knew this fit my character Raven. Besides a pagan chick turned into a Roman Catholic saint was just sacrilegious enough for me.
But cooking up a big ole stew of magical realism from Celtic mythology was not intuitive. I really didn’t know anything about it. I’d never tasted rarebit. The only thing I’d ever written that nearly intersected with the topic was an expose on unnatural deaths in nursing homes, but those weren’t supernatural in origin. It wasn’t gonna come easy. Nonetheless, the more I contemplated the idea the more it grew on me. I had a great-grandmother, Flora Shields, who was Irish, and I had met my muse at McGonigel’s Mucky Duck (a Celtic acoustic guitar venue in Houston).
So the guitarist traveled to Tintern Abbey during his tour of the United Kingdom and brought back a St. Brigid pendant and gave it to Raven in the parking lot of McGonigel’s Mucky Duck. He later takes Raven to his “Tintern Abbey,” Dripping Springs, outside of Austin, a chapter Wordsworthian for the refreshment nature can provide.
Around this time I also started to think that packaging a CD with the book might be nice. And the music, where would it come from? Austin, of course. It was likely the summer of 2004 that I asked Beckley and Ian Quigley if they’d go to a bar near the drag to hear a song called, "Consider Bridgette."
At the gig I approached the very, very tall lead singer, Chopper, and asked if Bridgette would grace a disc I had in mind for the book. He enthusiastically agreed. Nonetheless, the band was a tad loud and the crowd a little energized so Ian, Beckley and I headed up the street for mixed drinks, and maybe Ian can tell me the name of that bar because it was pretty hip. That’s only one of many very happy memories spent with friends developing the concept of the book. Through my fieldwork I have struck up friendships with Walter Tragert, Dana Mills, and Ryan Huie. Not to mention, I stayed past closing time at the River City Grille with my mother-in-law one Tuesday night.
That December my brother-in-law, Brad Davis, gave me a St. Brigid pendant. The front of the charm bears her likeness and the back the Brigid cross.
I started wearing the St. Brigid pendant, with a Texas charm, and the ideas started rolling in. The eternal flame at Kildare and the flames that appeared over Brigid’s head at her confirmation set the novel on fire. Flames became part of Raven’s “haunting.” Raven was just about as comfortable as I would have been if this kind of stuff would have started happening to me: out of body experiences, winking pterodactyls in the SoCo Magnolia Cafe, knights in armor everywhere at the Saxon Pub. Grounded earth signs don’t like it when their earth moves. They get scared. But not St. Brigid. Saints are fearless, right?
This year I am living fearlessly. I am reading Arianna Huffington's book and I’m armed with a new mantra thanks to James Protzman. I want to sit in the heather on the side of the river Wye. I want to return to Meade County and buy back my grandfather’s farm.
If this year your thoughts are turning toward feeding the poor, or you’re in need of a muse in the form of a Celtic lunar goddess, then Brigid might be your girl, too.
Five years have passed; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft inland murmur. Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion.
-Wordsworth, "Tintern Abbey"
