Tag Archives: sovereignty

Landwork

Casting Aspersions… Wholesale

Well, I’d been planning to write a little thing about Santa Claus and piety over at America Divine, but then I saw that a Roman Catholic priest had esoterically napalmed a town in rural Louisiana.
A satirical image of a cropduster shouting "Bless You!" as it incinerates the land.

Cropdusting an entire town with holy water is a massive re-escalation of Catholic colonialism and it is inviting imitation. I’m sure a number of parishes are already considering something similar.

Unfortunately, many in our society think that holy water is simply a form of well-wishing. They think of “blessing” in the same sense as someone saying “bless you” after a person sneezes. While asking that someone be blessed certainly has a benevolent aspect, blessing has some very specific esoteric functions. Namely, it is a form of sanctification, though much less total than consecration.

The process of sanctification involves asking a Holy Power to bring someone or something closer to Them. Much of what humans do in this regard involves prayer, contemplation, ritual, offerings, and works that align the person mentally, emotionally, and spiritually towards that Divinity so as to invite Their grace. Blessing is the act of requesting that sanctification on behalf of a third party, for example a priest asking blessings upon a parishioner.

Holy water is a fungible means of storing such a blessing and is a used in a number of different faiths worldwide, not just in Catholic Christianity. The exact liturgical process differs but the esoteric foundation is usually similar. Such blessed water is typically used for ritual purification and to bring the faithful closer to their Gods.

Here’s the thing- holy water is NOT generic. Holy water blessed by Asklepios is, on a fundamental level, closer to Him and His nature. Holy water of Yah is closer to Him. Holy water of Isis is closer to Her. Some Gods might be favorably inclined towards those aspersed with water blessed by a colleague, but it’s still an individual consideration. It’s Their choice, not ours.

The spiritual technologies of sanctification and blessing exist only because of the inherent diversity of the Gods and therefore, of Creation. If there was only one God, humans would have no need for holy water- everyone would naturally flow towards That One.

But we do need it. Whichever Gods blessed the holy water are the Gods towards whom the recipients will be drawn. Similarly, holy water can attract spiritlife friendly to or in alignment with those Divinities. It also tends to repel spiritlife inimical to those Gods and their ways.

That repulsion isn’t an absolute, though. The stronger the spiritlife in question, the more likely it is to simply piss them off. Given how angry much of Louisiana’s spiritlife seems, this is probably not a good idea.

Old-school perfume counters were infamous for randomly blasting passers-by with their scents. I don’t remember the film or TV show, but there was a comedy many years ago in which a man goes to a department store to get a gift for his wife and gets sprayed. His wife then suspects him of infidelity because he smells like some other woman’s perfume.

It’s a crude analogy, but holy water is a bit like that- it identifies those blessed with it as aligned with, or even the property of, the God(s) in question.

Thus, blasting a whole area with holy water is a deliberate offensive. It lays claim to that land and everything in it- all of its spiritlife (including humans). It’s quite literally an act of spiritual warfare- a term that proponents of this kind of atrocity are fond of.

I don’t know if modern Roman Catholic priests are taught this aspect of their spiritual tech, but any competent priest should know it. Indeed, much of history involved a great deal of deliberately leveraging spiritual technology for purposes of conquest. Missions, especially the big Spanish ones, served not simply to convert the populace, but to exert esoteric influence over the land itself and the spiritlife thereon.

That’s not to say that a priest blessing his parishioners is bad. My objection is to the indiscriminate nature of the spraying and the willful ignorance of those who think it was an innocent act of kindness. It was not.

It was an act of war and we are caught in the crossfire.

-In Deos Confidimus

 

 

Landwork, Workings

Hamilton Pool

I made it to Hamilton Pool yesterday.

Aside from a stone I’d planned to offer disappearing in under a minute, I can’t report any clearly supernatural anything.

Which is par for the course.

I’d hoped the cold weather and overcast would thin the tourism. It might have, but I was still sharing the area with 100 people or so. Many of them chattering away like humans should not in such places.

A panoramic photo of Hamilton Pool from inside the grotto.

The photo above shows a panorama, but of course the aspect ratio is a bit weird. You have to imagine the far left and right edges almost meeting behind you.

Two dominant features of the site are a waterfall near the left side of the opening and a moss-covered area near the right. There is a wavering line of drips from above that forms an arc between the two.

I say dominant because after walking all around the site, those were the two places that most drew my attention. The Texas Problem was still in evidence here. Though intellectually I could tell this was a place of power, between the other humans and the “cloak” I was barely picking up much of anything.

The first couple of hours was spent meditating in different spots, trying to do basic centering and grounding. This was a bit easier here than in the city, but not by much because there were still so many humans making disruptive noises.

I had fasted since the night before, not long, but enough to feel the drag of it. My hope was that it would sharpen my focus, which sometimes it does. I’m not sure if it helped, hindered, or neither.

After slowly making circumnavigating from the waterfall side to the beach (washed out in the center of the picture), I decided that the mossy area and the waterfall were the focal points where I needed to make offerings.

While the tourists thinned out, I sat on the beach and used a tiny rock with sharp edges as a burin to etch a horned serpent into a small cobble.

Once all but 30 or so tourists had departed, I made my way from the beach to the mossy area. From certain angles, it bears a resemblance to a large, sunken skull overgrown with moss. It also appeared to host a spring or seep that was coming from deeper than the water falling from above.

Still dodging tourists and park rangers (they often try to interrupt offerings), I first presented tobacco:

I offer you this tobacco, in honor and gratitude.

Then I offered a handful of toasted corn:

I offer you this corn, in honor and gratitude. Thank you for allowing me to visit this place.

Then, I had more people show up from out of nowhere, so I got flustered as I was packing up the corn. Somewhere around this point, I lost track of the etched rock. I may have left it on a post nearby or stuck it in my backpack and lost it in there.

I next moved clockwise around the inner section of the grotto, stopping periodically to meditate again. At one point, I noticed that the drips from above formed a pretty clear horned serpent motif- but only from that angle.

From another angle, I noticed several very faint, sinuous ripples on the surface, like invisible snakes 40′ long or more with their heads in the waterfall and their tails very slowly swishing back and forth to maintain position. I had not noticed them from that same vantage point earlier.

The waterfall was also flowing stronger than earlier for no reason I could discern. It was not raining in the area, nor anywhere upstream that I was aware of.

By this point, I was down to less than a dozen tourists, and I clambered down to the base of the waterfall. There, a massive red stone, like a huge egg some ten or twenty feet across, emerges from the pool and is drummed upon by one branch of the waterfall.

Here I readied four offerings:

  • The rest of my tobacco.
  • More toasted corn.
  • A red stone from Lake Champlain, triangular in shape and flat.
  • A smaller stone from a cenote in New Mexico, which I set atop the red stone.

These I carefully arranged on a flat-topped boulder nearby.

I turned, stood directly next to the waterfall with my hands and arms wide and invoked my hosts.

O, Great Serpents of Central Texas- you who dwell in this sacred place, your kindred, your ancestors, and all of your kind who call this region home…

While I was primarily trying to get the attention of the immediate locals, I wanted to make sure I was indicating an attempt to show respect to and communicate with the large “body politic”- for lack of a better term.

I am Keith, son of Michael, son of Eugene, of the line of Cormac.

This bit served multiple purposes:

  • Firstly, placing me in a context of lineage not only asks my own ancestors for help, but gives my hosts something longer-lasting than me to wrap their minds around. As humans, our individual lives are short compared to much of the spiritlife we are dealing with.
  • Secondly,  the overly formal recitation establishes gravitas and that my purpose for being there was diplomatic, not simply a friendly “how-do-you-do” visit.
  • Thirdly, that last bit is significant in its own right. While the “Cormac” in question is not necessarily Cormac mac Airt (probably isn’t), the name establishes a longer ancestral tie back to Europe and invites said blood ancestor(s) and said High King of Ireland emeritus to step in if they want to.

It’s worth noting that none of the genders are important. The wording feels right to me, but others may want to name their lineage differently or by tradition instead of blood relations. The important thing is to outline a lineage of strength.

I come to you humbly and to apologize. My people have not been respectful of you, nor of the land. Most of my people’s ancestors came from across the sea to the east. We live here now.

Once, my people knew better- they knew how to show respect and to live with the inhabitants of the land. But they were deceived by a new god, who led them astray, who blinded them to you. I wish to help my people learn again.

I turned back to the boulder, took up the tobacco, and placed it with both hands into the waterfall.

I offer you this tobacco, in honor of you and in gratitude.

I turned back to get the corn, and its lid had blown off (I’d loosened it already). The cenote stone was also gone.

Just… Gone.

I took up as much corn as I could hold, and with both hands placed it in the waterfall.

I offer you this corn, in honor of you and in gratitude.

I turned back to look for the cenote stone, which weighed about half a pound (not a pebble). It wasn’t on the ground around the boulder, and it certainly wasn’t atop the several-pound red stone, where I’d left it!

I took up the red stone instead and with both hands placed it atop the large red stone at the base of the waterfall.

I offer you this red stone from Lake Champlain, the land of Odzihozo, that you might have this as a connection to Him and to his land. I also brought a stone from a cenote in New Mexico, for the same reason, but now I cannot find it. I hope that you already have it.

I stepped back, now sopping wet despite my duster and wide-brimmed hat.

I ask that you help my people to see you, to hear you, to recognize you, to learn respect for you. Help them understand what their ancestors once knew. Let them see the land as it is, as it should be, that they may be good neighbors to you and to the land.

I waited.

I thank you for allowing me to come here and for listening.

Sensing no particular response, I packed my things and began huffing and puffing my way back up the trail from the floor of the canyon. I stopped at one point to offer the rest of the corn to the other inhabitants of the area after eating two pieces to demonstrate that it was safe.

I also picked up some trash here and there while exploring and on the way back. There wasn’t much- the rangers do a really good job policing rubbish.

Once back in my car, I thanked Hermes and Hekate for guiding me in and out of that liminal zone.

Then I ate the meat stick and candy bar I’d left in the car for post-working food. If you’re not in the habit of setting food and drink aside ahead of time, you should be. It’s a good safety precaution.

That’s about it.

So far, no further indications of anything.

-In Deos Confidimus

Landwork

Horned Serpents

Tomorrow, I’m heading to Hamilton Pool to at least begin an attempt to “do the thing“. For some time now, I’ve been aware of the principle that a people’s sovereignty, in the landwork sense, is typically associated with a particularly important pool of water- a “sacred well“.

Specifically, there is some kind of a meeting at this location between a representative of the people and a powerful entity or deity who controls the region. What happens during that meeting varies wildly- depending on the mythology in question, the specific individuals involved, and the reporter. The events run the gamut from sacred marriages to chaoskampf-style battles to the death.

I’ve spent a great deal of time trying to figure out where this “well” was for Central Texas, and I kept coming back to Hamilton Pool. To be fair, most landscapes have lots of smaller sites that might be associated with a homestead, hearthing, or village. There are lots of important springs in Central Texas to be sure- such as Aquarena Springs, sacred to a number of bands of the Coahuiltecan peoples.

I’m after the big one- the one that links the smaller sites in the affected region.

In Central America and up into parts of the desert Southwest, the most important water holes are often cenotes.

Here in Central Texas, many of the smaller springs are along the edge of the Balcones Fault, which runs roughly parallel to Interstate-35. Hamilton Pool is upstream of nearly all of them.

Damn. I just rediscovered a site directly next to Hamilton Pool (Westcave) that I may need to visit as well. It’s also a cenote, or as they like to call it, a grotto.

Note that grottoes were common sacred sites in the Old World as well. Many of Apollo’s oracular sanctuaries were built near or around spring-fed caverns. Delphi, in particular, was the home of Python, a great serpent slain by Apollo in one of those chaoskampf events I mentioned earlier.

Why are cenotes or grottoes so important? Aside from their mysterious ability to remain full of clean water even during long droughts, they are almost universally recognized as liminal places. Typically they connect the human world with the underworld, which in many mythologies is also the source of all water.

Here in the Americas this is a common belief, but we find it in many parts of the world. Some Hindus and Buddhists, for instance, hold that all of the world’s freshwater springs originate in Patala, the underworld home of the Nagas.

In the Dindsenchas, the River Boyne is said to be the source of all the world’s great rivers and to have been created when Boann angered a vitally important sacred well which was home to dreadful magic.

Back to Greece, Heracles fought the Lernaean Hydra in a region of springs. Lake Lerna itself was associated with the cleansing of miasma and was an entrance to the underworld (Hades).

In Japan, Susano’o slew a great serpent or water dragon at the headwaters of a river. From its tail, He drew the sacred sword which was later handed down via the imperial line.

In Scandinavia and even into England, lindworms and knuckers were often associated with waterways, wells, and caverns.

There are plenty of non-serpents associated with sacred waters, but the serpents show up a LOT, especially in regard to the sites of greatest importance.

The Americas are no exception as far as dangerous giant serpents associated with waterways, cenotes, and grottoes.

A recurrent motif, the horned or plumed serpent, appears throughout much of the New World. The Lakota tell of Unhcegila and Unk Tehi, who rose out of the Atlantic and crossed half the continent spreading blindness, insanity, flooding, and death until they were stopped by one or more brave heroes or by Thunderbirds.

The Cherokee have Uktena, while the Abenaki know Pita-Skog. The Ojibwe have Mishi-ginebig and the Menominee speak of Misikinubik. In Central America we have Kukulkan and Quetzalcoatl, though They tend to bridge not only underworld and human world but also the overworld/sky as well.

So to with Avanyu of the Tewa peoples of the desert Southwest, most especially the Rio Grande Valley.

In some cases, these entities are considered deities, whereas in other traditions they are simply inhabitants of great power. The legends differ on humans’ ability to deal diplomatically with these powerful beings.

I honestly don’t know what to expect tomorrow, now later today. In all likelihood, I won’t notice anything going on. Indeed, I fear that as failure. On the other hand, Hamilton Pool has a long history of mysterious drownings- and Westcave won’t even allow people to their cenote without guides.

As far as offerings, roasted corn and tobacco might be traditional, but I don’t know for sure. Certain of these beings appear to accept these offerings just fine. On the other hand, because tobacco could be considered aerial if burnt, it might be offensive to the purely chthonic sort, even in a non-burning form.

I guess we’ll find out.

-In Deos Confidimus

 

Community-Building

Towns Before Temples

Yes, towns before temples. Now that I have your attention, let me assure you that I’m not advocating towns before devotion. Rather, I’m approaching a frequent question in polytheisms from a practical standpoint, to wit-

Why are there no temples near me?

This question comes up a lot, and there are many valid, concrete, and utterly unhelpful responses. In short, it’s easy to know why there are no temples of our faith near us- it’s a solution that is hard.

Galina Krassova recently shared a video called “Strictly Kosher“, which is a British documentary about the Jewish community in Manchester, England. While the associated post was specific to marriage and childrearing, I found the video inspiring in a much broader context.

It is also raised issues intimately related to landwork, at least the sort that this blog is concerned with. How so? Much of esoteric landwork is about the marriage of a place and the people who live there.

In most of “paganism”, let alone the more narrowly-focused label of “polytheism”, people tend to live where they live and then attempt to forge some kind of connection. Like most Westerners, we lack indigeny (or “indigeneity”). We move around, we don’t know our neighbors, we shop at the MegaMart, and we drive long distances to meet others of our faith.

I used to have something approaching indigeny. When I lived in Western Massachusetts, I lived two miles from the birthplace of my maternal grandmother. She and her husband are buried a few miles from where my mother grew up, which was in turn a few miles from where both of her parents grew up. My mother’s family has lived in that general area since sometime around 1638.

For about twenty years, I stayed there for that very reason- despite it hurting my job prospects (among other things). Since giving in and moving to Texas, I have become more acutely aware of the problems associated with this lack of indigeny- not to mention the Texas Problem.

While it’s painful, it has helped sharpen my awareness of this as a larger-scale problem affecting polytheists (and “pagans”) in general. Because so many of us either come from (or have been taught to identify with) the homogeneous white middle-class assumption of automatic indigeny wherever one dwells, we are perhaps blind to a simple truth-

It is okay to live near people like yourself.

Most of our ancestors lived in ethnic neighborhoods at some point. Those neighborhoods waxed and waned based on immigration patterns- but typically by the second or third generation, children began to leave these segregated neighborhoods.

The story is a bit different for African-American communities, in that legalized discrimination and segregation kept many Black neighborhoods together for more than a century. However, in parts of the country where such discrimination is illegal, we are seeing many of those communities aging out and facing gentrification, too.

However, I’ve recently noticed a movement in some traditionally ethnic neighborhoods to specifically recruit younger members of their culture to move into the area and start businesses. Whereas these were once places for young people to escape from– they are in some cases becoming places to aspire to.

From a practical standpoint as well, it’s much easier to start a successful business, become a “mover-and-shaker”, find a date, or even just a decent job if the people around you know you and have common cause with you. It’s also easier to build a temple.

The Jews of Manchester understand this.

Doing a bit of research after watching the video, I came to find out that constructing a “Mikveh” (ritual bath) often happens before the construction of a synagogue. Why? Because strictly speaking, nobody can stay spiritually clean enough to enter a synagogue unless they have access to a Mikveh.

In some cases, it is the first building erected in a new village- even before permanent housing!

In a more general sense, there is a certain amount of groundwork that must take place before humans are ready to build a temple. Roadside shrines? Okay. Home altars? Definitely.

But temples are, by their nature, buildings that require a community. A community to build them, to support them… Frankly, I worry that without a community we could build it, but They would not come.

This idea that we need to strengthen our communities before we can build temples has been said before- in many, many places.

I’m going to go one further:

We need to have neighborhoods before we can build temples.

What would we do in those temples? Do we even know?

We could build the largest, most opulent temple in history equidistant from all the adherents of Tradition X in America and no one would ever use it.

As we know from studying our polytheistic history, the worship of a particular deity varied widely from place to place. Unlike the folks in the video, we are not following a set of written rules dating back thousands of years- nor should we. We should be developing living traditions rooted in a time and place.

Our traditions are broken, our liturgies muddled at best- wholly absent in many cases! If we remain broken from each other physically as well, how will we repair or replace that which was lost?

It is not enough to simply raise children in our faiths if we are raising them to live alone.

Multigenerational traditions alone will not save us- I know a devotee of a familial Hellenistic tradition dating back several generations. She now faces the extinction of her tradition because her only child has converted to another religion.

We need to look beyond the blinders of our homogenizing over-culture and recognize that our generation carries the responsibility of creating more than academic treatises and solitary rituals. To do what is required of us requires that we recognize something unusual:

We are immigrants in our own homeland.

Like the Jews, the Irish, the Poles, the Italians, the Germans, the Belarusians, and many, many of our ancestors- we are a people set apart. In time, our polytheisms will hopefully grow and become widely accepted.

For now though, we need to recognize that we are barely treading water until we have places of our own. These need not be specific to a particular tradition or pantheon, either- only specific to a polytheistic worldview.

Back in Europe, Christians and Jews from a given country often lived in segregated communities. Here in the United States they often had more in common with each other than with the general populace- language, if nothing else. The Irish-American tradition of boiling corned beef (instead of bacon) derives from the formerly close contact between Irish immigrants and Jewish butchers in cities like New York and Boston.

We need to establish polytheist neighborhoods in several parts of the country.

We need to start moving close together. We need to start creating new traditions (in the informal sense) there. We need to start supporting each other there and helping others to move there.

Only then can we begin to staunch two thousand years of bleeding. Only then can we begin to move beyond healing into growth.

Maybe then, we can build a temple. Or two… or hundreds.

-In Deos Confidimus

Landwork, Research

Help From Across The Pond?

In relation to this project, as inspired by a surprise presence, I’ve been reading through some of the Irish quasi-historical narratives. I say quasi-historical, as they are generally older oral narratives that were later recorded (and changed) by persons holding a colonized, Abrahamic worldview.

I’m studying these texts, despite their questionable provenance, because the UPG I received suggested that the ancient Irish possessed a form of the spiritual technology necessary to address (or at least begin to address) the Texas Problem.

Furthermore, I got the impression that this method was pretty darn fast-acting and that echoes of it had survived in “the lore” even beyond the depredations of Patrick and Cromwell.

To that end, I’m looking for examples of ceremonial actions related to the establishment of working relationships between a group of invaders and the local land deities (and by extension, spirits). We have lots of partial records of Gaulish, Irish, and Welsh kingmaking ceremonies (the Wiccan “Great Rite” is based on these), but I’m pretty darn sure that’s not what I’m looking for. Similarly, there are other purported rituals that I’m certain I can discount- these display their authors’ obvious biases and are typically wildly impractical and/or highly illegal.

On the other hand, there are hints of other rituals that are less well recorded and which were likely no longer in use well before these stories were recorded. While the kingmaking ceremonies were in use in historical times and occasionally commented on by outside observers, the techniques I’m looking for would have been used very early in the Celtic conquest of an area.

That’s the key difference, in my mind. The later kingmaking ceremonies appear to have been undertaken after an area was settled- i.e., by generations following the conquest. By contrast, when the Celts first entered an area, they had to establish diplomatic relations with the local land deity (or deities) and spirits. Doing that of course required establishing a mode of communications- which is normally a job for shamans (which is to say, not me).

But in the case of conquest, it meant doing so over the objections of (and esoteric sabotage by) the indigenous people. It meant esoterically “blowing up” or “burning down” those other peoples’ connection to the land and figuratively sticking a giant “this is mine” flag into the crater.

Yeah, that sounds pretty brutal.

My modern, Westernized mind recoils from it, but it’s clear that humans worldwide seem to have known how to do this from ancient times. By the early Middle Ages, though, Europeans appear to have lost this knowledge- at least on a conscious level.

By the 1800s, European-Americans in Texas almost certainly did not even know they needed that capability, let alone have the knowledge of how to do it. Why are certain parts of the United States more “awake” than Texas, despite Anglos’ lack of land-bonding technology? I have a theory about that, but it’s much too long to deal with here.

Back to the Irish.

Here is an example of the sort of thing I’m looking for, in this case from the Lebor Gabála Érenn (“The Book of the Takings of Ireland” – Book of Leinster version) as translated by R. A. S. Macalister:

§74. As he set his right foot upon Ireland, Amorgen Glúingel s. Míl spoke this poem—

I am Wind on Sea,
I am Ocean-wave,
I am Roar of Sea,
I am Bull of Seven Fights,
I am Vulture on Cliff,
I am Dewdrop,
I am Fairest of Flowers,
I am Boar for Boldness,
I am Salmon in Pool,
I am Lake on Plain,
I am a Mountain in a Man,
I am a Word of Skill,
I am the Point of a Weapon (that poureth forth combat),
I am God who fashioneth Fire for a Head.
Who smootheth the ruggedness of a mountain?
Who is He who announceth the ages of the Moon?
And who, the place where falleth the sunset?
Who calleth the cattle from the House of Tethys?
On whom do the cattle of Tethys smile?
Who is the troop, who the god who fashioneth edges
in a fortress of gangrene?
Enchantments about a spear? Enchantments of Wind?

This is implied by the text to be a powerful, ritual poem related in some way to the Milesians laying claim to Ireland. It’s essentially a fancy and esoterically potent version of “We claim this land for Spain”. Side note- the Milesians are said to have been Iberocelts (or Celtiberians)… Celts from Spain.

Clearly, the translation is corrupted. The name “Tethys”, for instance, refers to the Hellenic titan Goddess of fresh water- not an Irish deity at all. It’s possible that this is the result of a poor transcription of the translation, or a messy translation. Either way, it’s unclear.

Going back to the Irish, we see:

Ic tabairt a choisse dessi i nHerind asbert Amairgen Glúngel mac Miled in laídseo sís.

Am gáeth i mmuir. ar domni.

Am tond trethan i tír.
Am fúaim mara.
Am dam secht ndírend.
Am séig i n-aill.
Am dér gréne.g

Am caín.
Am torc ar gail.
Am hé i llind.
Am loch i mmaig
Am briandai.

Am bri danae.
Am gai i fodb. feras feochtu.
Am dé delbas do chind codnu.
Coiche nod gleith clochur slébe.
Cia on cotagair aesa éscai

Cia dú i llaig funiud grene.
Cia beir búar o thig Temrach.
Cia buar Tethrach. tibi.
Cia dain.
Cia dé delbas faebru. a ndind ailsiu.

Cáinté im gaí cainte gaithe. Am.

Here, the same name is written as “Temrach” or “Tethrach”. While neither of these terms has an easy translation provided by Dr. Google, there are a couple of interesting hints.

Firstly, Temrach appears to be a poetic reference to Tara, the seat of the High Kings of Ireland- a central point of esoteric significance. Tethrach, on the other hand, appears to be a possessive or adjectival form of words that can mean “crow”, “champion”, or “sea”. In some versions I’ve found, “Tethrach” appears on both lines.

In other words, either way, we are likely dealing with a poetic name for Someone or someone. In all likelihood, many of the lines refer to a specific deity, person, or entity.

On the surface this appears to be part of an invocation to the ruling deities of Ireland, the Túatha Dé Danann. Unfortunately, much of the rest of the account deals with Amorgen and the Milesians fighting the Túatha Dé Danann for control of the island. So, is this an invocation in pursuit of a blessing, or a mockery intended to provoke conflict?

Is the source even useful to my search, or am I chasing down the rabbit hole of a cargo cult? The entire story could be purely a medieval fantasy with no ancient basis at all.

There is a lot more to go through, and it is not exactly stimulating reading.

-In Deos Confidimus