Names of The Mórrígan

As a promised companion piece to the poetry for An Mórrígan, I am going to go through some personal experiences and thoughts about one of the epithets I used in the poetry itself. I will of course begin with these caveats – First and foremost, this is my own gnosis. These are my beliefs, based in my understanding and practice. If they do not resonate with you, that’s fine and does not mean your practice is wrong any more than it means mine is – it means our practices and our ways of seeing An Mórrígan are different. She is a goddess who shapeshifts. I do not think she is always one thing or another any more than I believe she has only one form forever. I do not speak Old Irish. I am not a scholar. I do the best I can, and my understanding changes as I deepen my practice. I’m not foolish enough to think my way of seeing her is the only way, or the One Right Way either. With those caveats in mind, we continue.

A quick look at my understanding of Epithets, or Names just in general. Throughout the lore – the ancient stories we have recorded, we see again and again that people introduce themselves with Names or Epithets (I prefer to think of them as Names, like True Names) that describe an aspect of who they are. We see it in the Táin Bó Regamna, for example, when Cú Chullain asks the couple what their names are, and they respond with a series of words that are definitely not formal names of anyone we know – and yet we know he’s talking to An Mórrígan and her companion. That companion, especially judging by the Names given and what he does, is almost assuredly An Dagda, but I digress and we can talk about that in another post sometime. We can look at Da Derga’s Hostel as well, where the bard at the door is asked her name and she answers “Calib,” and is told something akin to – “that’s not much of a name.” And then she answers again with a string of what we’d commonly recognize as epithets, names that both indicate to Conaire that she is who she says she is – and a file (one of the grades of bard) of some power – and likely told him in what manner she was showing up to speak to him. We can look at the names An Dagda gives the daughter of Indech in the Cath Maige Tuired too – there are many, and the ways to interpret them are also a matter of discussion.

I personally believe that there is no one right answer to any of them – even when we have a direct, or fairly clear translation. How we interpret the names is dependent upon our practice, our relationship with said entity. So even when we’re talking about humans in the lore it’s analogous to nicknames or names we also pick up through our lifetimes. Job titles too can be included. So how we see an entity, as well as what they’re doing, can give us clues to help us understand what the name means overall. I like to revisit the names sometimes, and see if my understanding has changed or deepened. Working with any deity is an ongoing practice for me – and much like any other relationship does change and expand over time. No one person knows every single thing there is to know about any of them. 

With all that in mind, I present some gnosis and understandings of my own. I’m going to go through one of the names from the Táin Bó Regamna. You can find a translation of the text by A.H. Leahy here (https://www.ancienttexts.org/library/celtic/ctexts/regamna.html) – I prefer the translation by Morgan Daimler personally, but they seem to have taken it offline, so instead I will say if you want to read that translation it’s included in their book The Treasure of the Tuatha De Danann, which is one I treasure – they’ve done an excellent job of translation, in my opinion. 

In the version by Leahy, the names that the man introduces Herself by are these: “Faebor-begbeoil-cuimdiuir-folt-scenbgairit-sceo-uath.” In Daimler’s version, these are “Fóebar beo béoil, coim diúir, foltt sgeanb, gairitt sgeo úath.” Leahy doesn’t even bother to translate the names at all. Daimler does, and their own translation is based in scholarship and actual knowledge of Herself, and I’ve no quibble at all with their translation. As I’ve said above, everyone makes their own connections, and their understanding helped me find my own as well. For this I used a lot of reference to dil.ie and a lot of conversations and journeys with Herself, as well as looking at the ogham that make up any particular name, and my understanding of those. 

To work then! We start with “Faebor” or “Fóebar.” Both include the same letters, arranged differently. Daimler translates this as “Keen-edged,” and I’m inclined to agree, mostly. In eDil, there isn’t a direct translation of the word itself, but where I see it, it’s connected to a few different words – armgrith, a clashing of arms; bráen, a splattering of rain, drops, blood, with extended understandings; condúala, scalloped, serrated, esp. the edge of a shield; do-esc, cuts, severs; girth, a panic. Each of these words brings with it a sense of war and battle, making bloody war – and condúala particularly is interesting, because it’s associated with the edges of a shield. So the sense from the word just in the meanings that others have understood, is that same keen-edged translation of Daimler’s. 

Taking it another step though, let’s look at the word itself. If we connect to the ogham at all, we have Fern – Ailim – Edad – Beith – Onn – Ruis. Now, I’ve studied the ogham a bit, and some of my basic associations are these: Fern I associate with shields and protection. Ailim is a loud cry, loud enough to echo, in this case possibly a war cry. Edad I associate with visions. Beith with healing, purification, cleansing, and connection. A tether, if you will. Onn is the fíd (letter) of necessary journeys, the path that is taken to get there. And Ruis is the fíd of power and passion and fury – whether that’s rage or lust or the adrenaline hit of battle. So shielding, visions, connection and cleansing, a cry – possibly a war cry, power, passion, and movement. Taking all of that together, I get a sense of shielding in war, the vision of what comes next, the connection or tether – possibly to community, or to fellow fighters on the line. A sense of necessary journeys – wars that must be fought maybe, with passion and power and the adrenaline of battle.

Now let’s look at the context. The Táin Bó Regamna is a remscela, a precursor tale that sets up the Táin Bó Cuailgne. An Mórrígan is driving a cow that she has bred back to the Otherworld, and the calf that will be born is going to be one of the two cows involved in the Táin Bó Cuailgne. That’s definitely a necessary journey. But what started it? A vision of the future, a prophecy – there are several remscela that deal with all the preparations for the Táin Bó Cuailgne, and it’s clear that it’s based on a vision of the future. So here we see An Mórrígan taking an action based on a vision (or multiple, I don’t know her life) of a future where the calf to be born is needed. She’s taking protective action too – I see Fern energy here, because without this calf the Táin doesn’t happen, and Ríon Medb might not be able to retain her position as Ríon. And if you read the story itself, she’s certainly full of keen action. 

Taking all that into consideration, I did some meditation on the name itself, and I got an image of a woman holding a shield sharp along the edges in one hand, a sword in the other, battling fiercely. She was using the edge of the shield to block and to cut, as much weapon as protection, and it rang true to me. For me, the name Faebor brings with it a sense of battle, a warrior with sharp edges and keen sight, who protects her people and that protection is not the bloodless protection of an endless guard but rather an active defense and offense, rolled into one. It’s interesting, because in the lore she is both noted as a Warrior Goddess, and also not seen in actual battle – but given the monks’ propensities for trying to remove as much of the strength of women as possible that isn’t in the traditional motherly role, is anyone really surprised? But again and again she is associated with battle and war, and so Faebor as the sharp-edged shield of her people – physically or figuratively – is how I personally understand that Name.

So what’s in a Name? What’s the point of caring? Well, generally speaking I find several uses for knowing the Names of the deities I work with. First, having a broader understanding of their Names means I have a more complete view of who they are. That lets me connect more clearly, and certainly helps me understand and listen to them better. When they’re acting in a capacity that I have a Name for, I’m able to write poetry or prayers to honor them for what they’ve done using that Name, which also shows them that I’m both paying attention and seeing them truly. It’s important to my personal practice to have those layers of understanding. One of the reasons I love working with the Tuatha Dé so much is that none of them are only one thing. Each of them have many layers and depths to them, and it’s an endless round of discovery and joy to learn more about them as my own practice deepens. Much like I enjoy being seen truly, I suspect they do as well – and so part of my meditative practice involves working to see them more clearly. 

I hope this maundering helps you understand what I did to come up with the understandings in the devotional poem. I encourage you to come to your own conclusions rather than follow mine – I strongly believe it is to each person who chooses to work with the Tuatha Dé to define how their relationship looks, and how they understand the deities with whom they work. May your studies be illuminating, and your connections bring you joy.