Tréde neimthigedar cruitire:
golltraige, gentraige, súantraige.
Three things that constitute a harper: a tune to make you cry, a tune to make you laugh, a tune to give you peace.
~ From The Triads of Ireland
Botanical name: Sambucus nigra
Family: Adoxaceae
Ogham: Ruis
Scots Gaelic: Droman
Irish Gaelic: Trom
Welsh: Ysgawen
French: Sureau
Message: Your emotions are the lords in the hall of your soul, but you are the ruler. Be counseled by your passions, but do not let them rule you.
Ruis translates directly as ‘the red of passion’ or ‘the red of emotion’. But there are many ways to be red with emotion:
Crimson with rage.
Red in the face with laughter.
Blushing in shame.
Red-eyed with weeping.
So it is with the elder tree. It is a plant of complex meanings. White-flowered in late spring and sweet-berried in late autumn, it is both a food and a poison. Its leaves contain cyanogenic glycosides (1) and can kill, but its flowers and berries are lauded in the form of elderflower wine, elderberry cordial, jams, roasted fritters, and all manner of pastries and delicacies. Neither black nor white, evil nor good in whole, the elder tree grows in sheltered, damp places, bent over herself as if protecting secrets. She is a plant of nuances and twilight places.
Elder is the tree of the musician. Paul Kendall writes in Trees for Life, “Wood from the elder tree lends itself well to the making of whistles, pipes, chanters and other musical instruments, as the branches contain a soft pithy core which is easily removed to create hollow pipes of a pale, hard, easily-polished wood.” (2) In a time before our entertainments, the talented musician was a prize among folk. We can still see it in the names people wear: in A History of Irish Music, William Flood tells us, “The CURTIN (MacCurtin) family is so named from a hereditary skill on the cruit; whilst the family names TUMPANE and TUMPANY are derived from a musical ancestry–famous timpanists, or performers on the timpan. The music of this latter instrument was generally known as a dump; and various dumps are to be met with in MS music books of the 16th century. A similar musical origin is traced for the surnames Harper, Piper, Fiddler, etc., whilst the family of MACCROSSAN (now English CROSBIE) are so-called from the Irish word Crossan–a travelling musical comedian. The CRONINS or CRONANS are in like manner designated from a family of street singers. Similarly, the family name Mac an Bhaird, or Ward, which really means “son of the bard,” is derivable from a bardic origin. (3)
Music was the lifeblood of the folk. It lent joy to a long day. It led the charge for battle. Music was played at a birth, a marriage and a death. Music was the teaching tool the bards and brehons used to imprint their lessons on their listeners. Among the learned music was what was described as the Three Noble Strains:
The Goiltrai or ‘sorrow strain’ allowed people to weep.
The Geantrai or ‘joy strain’ encouraged people to laugh.
The Suantrai or ‘sleep strain’ gave people peace and helped them sleep.
It’s telling that the suffix of these words, trai, translates as ‘magic’. On flutes and pipes of elder wood, on drums with elder wood bodies, on harps with oaken sound boxes and elder wood inlays every emotion was played: the music of pain and the music of joy, the music of weeping and the music of the battlefield. We cannot live as whole people without hearing each of these musics. Every note has its place, every emotion its purpose. The art of the musician is to weave them into a harmony, no single sound drowning out the others. That is how music is made.
Learning music, like learning to balance emotions within ourselves, requires intense study and regular practice. But it is worth the work. In the days of the Brehon law, a person—man or woman—who attained mastery of the harp raised their honor price to that of a noble, and their harp was given the worth of a human life. (4) In the literature of Old Ireland, we read again and again warnings against intemperate or uncontrolled emotional outbursts. Fury in the battlefield might be valued, but fury in the home or the hall was a crime. The bard Cabre asked the scholar-king Cormac Mac Art once:
‘O grandson of Conn, Cormac, what is best for a king?’
‘Not hard to tell,’ said Cormac. ‘Best for him:
Composure rather than wrath,
Patience without strife,
Affability rather than arrogance’ (4)
In The Triads of Ireland we read warnings again and again to keep ourselves in balance:
Tréde conaittig fírinne: mess, tomus, cubus.
Three things which justice demands: judgement, measure, conscience.
Trí cuitbidi in domain: fer lonn, fer étaid, fer díbech.
Three laughingstocks of the world: an angry man, a jealous man, a miser.
In modern Irish, this tradition has continued in slightly more oblique and humorous terms:
Is minic a bhris béal duine a shrón.
Many a time a man’s mouth broke his nose. (5)
All people were expected to have their emotions, even to show them. But woe betide the one who let those emotions rule them: losing your temper had a high cost. There were penalties in the Brehon laws for unlawfully satirizing, ‘harming the honor’ (we would call it embarrassing) or humiliating another person, as well as laws for causing physical harm when you were in a temper. One Brehon’s record remarks in the margin:
Trí comartha clúanaigi: búaidriud scél, cluiche tenn, abucht co n-imdergad.
Three ungentlemanly things: interrupting stories, a mischievous game, jesting so as to raise a blush. (6)
With your words you could take something precious away from others: their pride and their confidence. The ancient Irish recognized this in law. In penance, you would pay a physical fee, but you also paid a social price: your community had seen you act like a lout, and your entire community saw the shame written on your face.
When we are ashamed or emotionally overwrought, our body shows it clearly: we blush. This is especially obvious in the people who had lost most of the melanin in their skin to survive in the climates of the British Isles. The blush of shame, red as the name of this fid, is one of the most frustrating parts of life even in our modern world. I imagine many of us wish fervently that we didn’t have this biological mechanism. Little as we may appreciate it, this uncontrollable reaction serves an important function in human society: our bodies are showing with glaring clarity that we know something is wrong in the social situation. We are, essentially, showing that we have social awareness and are affected by the reactions of those around us. This is the most essential trait social creatures possess. It’s what allows us to continue to cohabit in relative harmony. And it may have a hidden benefit for the individual as well.
In an article for The Psychologist, Ray Crozier writes of blushing in these words: “It signals the blusher’s adherence to society’s rules, norms and standards and acknowledgement of failure to comply with them. This can deflect any hostile reaction from others, help the group to strengthen its bond and avoid spending resources on aggressive acts. Psychological research has considered that a blush communicates appeasement, a non-verbal apology or has a remedial function, helping to put matters right after some social predicament (Edelmann, 2001).
“Empirical studies find that people who blush when they have violated some norm are viewed less negatively than people who don’t blush in these circumstances.” (7)
As much as you may want to sink into the floor when your shame is written on your face, you must understand that your shame is not your enemy. You are contributing to the subtle social fabric that holds us all together. If we felt no shame at all, we would not survive.
Any emotion can become warped as it grows. Any emotion can sicken inside us and become harmful. But if we take the time to pay attention to our emotions, recognize and understand them, they become powerful tools.
In the days when the Tuatha De Dannan still fought for the soul and soil of Ireland, emotions served to win a battle and right a wrong.
It’s said that the Dagda, eldest and earthiest of the Tuatha, was a great harper. He was the proud holder of the harp Uaithne, She of the Four Angled Music. Made from oak and inlaid with elder wood, she was a lovely thing. He took her with him to the battlefield during the Second Battle of Mag Tuired, using her to raise the spirits of his folk on the night before the battle where they hoped to overthrow the tormentors who had harried them for three decades.
After the victorious battle and the routing of his enemies, the Dagda found his harp missing. In an act of spite, the Formorians had taken it as they fled.
Realizing what had been done, the Dagda called his son Aengus Og to him. “Come now, lad. We’re off to fetch my four angled beauty.”
Carefully, they tracked their foes to the Formorian camp at a fort. Inside Bres, Formorian king, criminal and traitor, was at table with his lords. Grumbling, they sat together and licked their wounds. Through a chink in the door, father and son could just make out the candle flames outlining the harp, hanging on the wall over Bres’s head. Seeing it, the Dagda began to chant:
Come Daurdabla, apple-sweet murmurer
Come, Coir-cethair-chuir, four-angled frame of harmony,
Come summer, come winter,
Out of the mouths of harps and bags and pipes!
The harp on the wall slid from her bonds and flew to his hands, breaking the doors asunder. Some say she left nine warriors dead in her wake.
Before the moment of shocked silence at such a thing was over, the Dagda began to play.
He played the weeping strain of the goltrai, and the Formorians mourned their defeat.
Then he played the joyful strain of the geantrai, and the Formorians fell about in drunken laughter.
Finally, he played the sleeping strain of the suantrai, and the Formorians lay themselves down and slept all through the camp, the pains of battle eased.
Heads held high, the Dagda and his son walked out of the encampment with Uaithne.
The elder offers you her wood and her wisdom. Cut a branch with care, make yourself an instrument. The notes are your emotions. Understood, they make a music. Out of place, they make discordant racket.
The choice of what you make is yours.
- Trees and Bushes in Wood and Hedgerow, Vedel, H. and Lange, J., p.196. Methuen and Co. Ltd, 1971
- “Mythology and Folklore of the Elder. Trees for Life: restoring the Caledonian Forest”, Kendall, Paul., https://treesforlife.org.uk/forest/mythology-folklore/elder/, 2000
- A History of Irish Music, Flood, William Henry Grattan, Dublin: Browne and Nolan, 1906
- The Counsels of Cormac: An Ancient Irish Guide to Leadership, Cleary, Thomas F., Doubleday Books, 2004
- A Glossary of Irish Slang and Unconventional Language, Muirithe, Diarmaid Ó., Gill & Macmillan, 2004
- “The Contents of Later Commentaries on the Brehon Law Tracts”, Simms, Katharine, Ériu 49: 23-40, 1998
- “The Puzzle of Blushing”, Crozier, Ray, The Psychologist 23.5: 390-393, 2010