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The Last Dragon in Ireland

 

When Saint Patrick banished the serpents from Ireland, there was one who was overlooked, perhaps because he slumbered or was abroad himself, and that one was called Lig na Paiste, or the “Last Great Reptile”. Soon after Saint Patrick passed away, he made his presence known as he was known of old to the people of Owenreagh!

A giant serpent he was, and he could spit fire and venom in equal measure, tall as two men standing one atop the other at the shoulder, with mighty curling ram's horns, an ancient remnant from the beginning of the world. He was long enough to curl around a green hill in the dark valley near the Owenreagh River and hold his tail in his mouth. Black was his tongue and sharp his fangs, and his armoured scales were impenetrable plates larger than a man's head.

No warrior could defeat him and he began a reign of terror from the slopes of the Sperrins to the shores of Lough Foyle, burning crops, cattle and people before devouring them in hunger and vengeance for his banished kin. The people of the area were at a loss as to what to do, so at last they turned to a holy man of the new faith, Saint Murrough O'Heaney, who had built a church in Banagher whose ruins can still be seen today.

St. Murrough heard their cries and fasted for nine days and nine nights, as was the way of the Christian about to face a mighty enemy, and while praying he saw a vision of how he might defeat the dragon.

He brought three long reed rods with him and came to the dragon's pool, where the beast curled up between raids, and called out. Well Paiste raised his fearsome head, all dripping with pondweed and mud, and laughed aloud, for he thought the locals had sent him a sacrifice as his kind had come to expect in the days of the pagans!

The dragon mocked him and made as if to draw closer, but Saint Murrough kept his cool, and asked the dragon if he could perform an ancient ritual of his clan. Greatly amused at this human folly, the dragon laid down and allowed the Saint to lay the rods across his back.

Just as Paiste began to tire of this game and announced it was time for dinner, Saint Murrough asked for just a little longer so he could pray to complete the ritual.

With that, he went to his knees and prayed to God the Father Almighty with great passion and faith to turn the reed rods to unbreakable steel, making the sign of the cross, and so it was done! The reeds wound about the dragon and tightened, and no matter how much he thrashed and howled, shaking the earth for miles around, he couldn't escape, and the more the fought, the tighter his bounds got.

Paiste finally wearied and groaned, complaining that he had been tricked, but the Saint wouldn't let him go, for he knew the dragon was a malevolent beast with no honesty in its heart. Again the dragon protested, saying that no human could have authority over him, but Saint Murrough explained that Paiste was a living creature created by God, and so was subject to God's commands.

Then the Saint declared that his punishment was to be cast into the waters of Lough Foyle, but before he did so, Paiste begged one last favour, that he might be allowed to look upon the Ciannact, that is the stretch of land from Banagher and the Sperrins to the shores of Lough Foyle from his watery tomb. This much mercy but no more did Saint Murrough allow, and into the deeps the dragon went, until the Judgement.

To this very day, people in the area say they feel fear when they cross certain parts of Lough Foyle, and the odd tides and disturbances in the water's currents defy explanation. When the river Owenreagh floods, they say it is due to the dragon struggling with its bindings.

https://emeraldisle.ie/the-last-dragon-in-ireland

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Inspirational: Kahlil Gibran

 

He was called "filthy" because his skin was dark, unintelligible because he could barely speak English. When he arrived in this country, he was placed in a special class for immigrants. But, a few of his teachers saw something in the way he expressed himself, through his drawings, through his view of the world. He would soon master his new language.

His mother had made a difficult decision to take him, his two younger sisters and a half-brother to America, seeking a better life for their family. They settled in Boston's South End, at the time the second-largest Syrian-Lebanese-American community. The family would struggle and the young boy would lose one sister and his half-brother to tuberculosis. His mother would die of cancer.

He would write, “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

He was born in poverty on January 6, 1883 in what is now modern day Lebanon.

He believed in love, he believed in peace, and he believed in understanding.

His name was Kahlil Gibran, and he is primarily known for his book, "The Prophet." The book, published in 1923, would sell tens of millions of copies, making him the third best-selling poet of all time, behind Shakespeare and Laozi.

Published in 108 languages around the world, passages from "The Prophet" are quoted at weddings, in political speeches and at funerals, inspiring influential figures such as John F. Kennedy, Indira Gandhi, Elvis Presley, John Lennon, and David Bowie.

He was very outspoken, attacking hypocrisy and corruption. His books were burned in Beirut, and in America, he would receive death threats.

Gibran was the only member of his family to pursue scholastic education. His sisters were not allowed to enter school, primarily because of Middle Eastern traditions as well as financial difficulties. Gibran, however, was inspired by the strength of the women in his family, especially his mother. After one sister, his mother, and his half-brother died, his other sister, Mariana would support Gibran and herself by working at a dressmaker's shop.

Of his mother, he would write:

"The most beautiful word on the lips of mankind is the word 'Mother,' and the most beautiful call is the call of 'My mother.' It is a word full of hope and love, a sweet and kind word coming from the depths of the heart. The mother is everything – she is our consolation in sorrow, our hope in misery, and our strength in weakness. She is the source of love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness."

Gibran would later champion the cause of women’s emancipation and education.

He believed that “Safeguarding the rights of others is the most noble and beautiful end of a human being.”

In a poem to new immigrants, he would write, "I believe you can say to the founders of this great nation. 'Here I am. A youth. A young tree. Whose roots were plucked from the hills of Lebanon. Yet I am deeply rooted here. And I would be fruitful.'"

He would write in "The Prophet":

“Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.”

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● THE PROPHET ●

Do not live half a life

and do not die a half death

If you choose silence, then be silent

When you speak, do so until you are finished

If you accept, then express it bluntly

Do not mask it

If you refuse then be clear about it

for an ambiguous refusal is but a weak acceptance

Do not accept half a solution

Do not believe half truths

Do not dream half a dream

Do not fantasize about half hopes

Half the way will get you no where

You are a whole that exists to live a life

not half a life. ~Khalil Gibran

(Book: The Prophet)

 

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BELLA

 

In the golden light of dawn on a brisk April morning in 1912, a small, determined cat named Bella scurried along the cobblestone streets of Southampton. Bella, a sleek tabby with emerald eyes, had been a beloved fixture on the RMS Titanic, a ship hailed as the pinnacle of human engineering. She had quietly boarded in Belfast, finding solace in the ship's warm engine rooms and the gentle hum of the massive engines.

Bella, unlike many, was not merely a stowaway; she was a cherished member of the Titanic's crew. Her days were spent chasing shadows and sunbeams through the grand corridors and lavish staterooms. At night, she would curl up in a cozy nook beside the ship's boilers, where the rhythmic thrum of the engines lulled her and her newborn kittens into peaceful slumber.

The ship's crew, particularly a kind-hearted stoker named Edward, had grown fond of Bella. Edward, a burly man with a soft spot for animals, had taken it upon himself to ensure Bella and her kittens were well-fed with scraps from the ship's kitchens. His affection for the feline family had grown so strong that he often found himself sneaking away from his duties just to spend a few moments with them.

As the Titanic prepared for its maiden voyage, an air of excitement and anticipation filled the ship. However, for Bella, something felt amiss. Her feline instincts, sharper than any human's intuition, sensed an impending doom. One serene evening, as the ship lay anchored in Southampton, Bella made a decision that would alter the course of her life.

With a heavy heart but unwavering resolve, Bella began the arduous task of moving her kittens. One by one, she carried them in her mouth, descending the gangplank onto the chilly Southampton docks. Edward, witnessing this unusual behavior, felt a chill run down his spine. He watched, perplexed and worried, as Bella ferried her kittens to safety, away from the ship that had been their home.

As the final kitten was placed gently on the cobblestones, Bella paused, her gaze lingering on the Titanic's towering silhouette against the starry sky. It was as if she was saying a silent farewell to the grand vessel that had been her sanctuary.

Edward, torn between duty and a gnawing sense of foreboding, made a choice that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He decided to follow Bella's lead. Gathering his few possessions, he disembarked the Titanic, his heart heavy with an inexplicable sorrow.

Days later, as news of the Titanic's tragic fate reached Southampton, Edward realized the magnitude of Bella's intuition. The ship had sunk, taking with it the hopes and dreams of many. But Bella, with her extraordinary perception, had saved her little family – and in doing so, had also saved Edward.

Years later, Edward, now an old man, would often recount the tale of Bella, the Titanic cat. His eyes would sparkle with a mix of sadness and admiration as he spoke of her instinctual wisdom that fateful night. Bella's story, a blend of mystery and miracle, became a legend among the seafaring folk of Southampton – a poignant reminder of the unsinkable spirit of a mother's love.

 

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