Men had angered the Goddess. She had offered Her love to all, but men had demanded power and waged war to gain it. So the Goddess sadly took Her leave. As any Mother, She had tried to show by example true ways to live, but men had ignored Her. Eventually even this Mothers love was tested to the limit. With a breaking heart She left.

Eyes filled with tears and a throat full of pain, She walked over loch and dale, through mountains and fields, past cairns and standing stones, for days . . for years . . . She sought solace in the beauty of the landscape, aching for Her children . . .

But one man heard Her sighs. One man knew that the warlike life of men would not survive. Without the love and support of the Mother, there would be no life. Cuil heeded his inner voice and when he could no longer bear the chants of war and savagery, he set out to search for something to soothe his disquiet. For days, for years he wandered over loch and dale, through mountains and fields, past cairns and standing stones until he came to the edge of the land. He stood and watched as the waves broke over the sand and felt peace for the first time in years. And then he heard it - just beyond his hearing, underneath the rolling of the waves he heard a whisper, a note of such beauty that he could hardly imagine it. At times it seemed close, at others it seemed far, far away . . . .

The Goddess was gazing out to sea. Exhausted from Her pain and grief, tired by Her travelling She had settled down to rest upon the shore, the waves lulling Her with their rhythmic voice. Beyond the rocks, a whale's carcass had been washed up high on the sands by a distant storm. As Death had claimed this majestic titan, his body began the slow decay that is part of the Cycle of Life. Seagulls tore strips from his back, small crabs had begun to scavenge his blubber and millions of bacteria hungrily devoured his meat. By the time the Goddess had found him, the whale was merely a collection of bones with a few lengths of sinew clinging stubbornly to the skeletal remains. The Goddess greeted the spirit of the whale and honoured him for his wisdom and strength. Then She continued her search for a place to rest.

The Goddess laid Her head on the sand and watched the waves. The sun began to set and the twilight darkened. The stars peered out of the deep dark nighttime cauldron and the Moon began Her ascent. The wind began to pick up and then waves broke greedily onto the shore, making their way higher and higher. And then She heard it - just beyond Her hearing, underneath the rolling of the waves She heard a whisper, a note of such beauty that She could hardly imagine it. At times it seemed close, at others it seemed far, far away . . . . It changed in pitch and tone, ethereal and beautiful. The Goddess listened with Her whole being alert to this new and marvellous gift. The sounds washed over Her, as the waves washed over the shore.

The vibrations continued throughout the night. The higher tones brought smiles and laughter to Her face, whilst the lower tones brought sleep and healing.

As dawn broke, She wakened feeling refreshed and renewed. Her heart was no longer heavy and torn. There was still the sadness of a Mother rejected but She felt the peace and acceptance of knowing Her children were making their own way in the world. She would always be there for them with compassion and love, whenever they returned. It was finally time to let go . . .

Retracing Her steps, the Goddess walked back to the whale skeleton. A playful gust of wind pushed past Her and re-woke a long dried sinew on the whale's bones. It shivered and danced, sending out a low delicate note that moaned and called to its neighbouring strings. Thoughtfully, the Goddess stretched out a hand and plucked the sinew. A new tone emerged - solid and bright, where the wind had produced curves and hollows. It was very different, but just as powerful, just as beautiful. The Goddess studied the whale carcass and considered. Then offering thanks for the whale's final gift, She laid shells, bread and mead by his side. Gently tugging his curved jawbone, She broke it free and then began to collect the remaining sinews. Throughout the day She sat by the dead whale, talking to him and honouring his life. Her fingers nimbly attached and knotted the dried lengths of sinew to the jawbone.

All night She held the instrument in Her lap. All night She rested Her head against its frame and felt the vibrations of the notes enter Her body, filling Her spirit with healing and light. By morning, the instrument was alive with laments, reels, jigs and songs. The Goddess laughed with delight and welcomed this new creation. She named it Clarsach.

Across the sand, by the edge of the sea Cuil awoke from his deep sleep. He had travelled far in his dreams and images remained as he rose to greet the day. The haunting music that had first lulled him to sleep continued to play in his mind, but now it was accompanied by another sound - a solid and bright tone, where once there had been only curves and hollows. Cuil felt light and lifted as he began his trek across the beach.

As he walked he rounded a massive bolder and there in the distance he could see the skeleton of a whale, washed up high on the sands from a distant storm. And just at that moment, a shaft of sunlight pierced the clouds and shone down on the waves as they lapped along the shore. The sparkle of a million lights dazzled Cuil with their beauty and in the centre stood the Goddess. Proud and beautiful, strong and gentle, She looked at Cuil and smiled. In Her hands She held the Clarsach and Cuil knew in his heart that this was the source of the ethereal music playing in his head.

Dazzled and awed, Cuil held his hand out to the Goddess. He had been searching for all these years and finally at this place between the land and the sea, he had found Her. The Goddess's heart leaped with joy - not all of Her children had forsaken her. Here, after all these years, in this place between the land and the sea was a man calling for Her love.

Goddess and son gazed upon each other for timeless moments, then slowly She raised Her harp and played a few notes in parting. As She disappeared from his sight, Cuil knew the secret of the harp, the secret of a Mothers love and the joy of the Goddess. He would never be without Her love in his life, without Her support and compassion. And with the knowledge of the clarsach he would never be without music. Offering thanks in his heart for the gift of inspiration, Cuil turned back inland, to search for a forest or woodland. He knew now how to bring the voice of the Goddess back into the world of men . . . .

© Ciel 15th December 2003