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For Bealtaine today, I want to share two stories about my experiences on the Hill of Uisneach during the Festival of Fires.

The first one comes attached with this unusual photograph.

I was lucky enough to have attended the first (or maybe the second?) year of the revival of the ancient Festival of the Fires with a large group of companions.

The festival of lighting the sacred fire on the Hill was once observed by our ancestors since time immemorial; only ceasing upon the invasion of Ireland when her land, people, and customs began to be attacked.

Uisneach can be found in the centre of the island. It was once referred to as Ireland’s navel and the meeting place of the five provinces. From its vantage point, many counties can be seen.

In the old times, it is said that all the fires in Ireland would be extinguished on the eves leading up to Beltaine so that the sacred fire of Uisneach could be lit by the Druids as the ‘first fire of summer’.

Folk memory and some written accounts tell us how each clan would send at least one member to the hill on that special night so that they might collect some of its flames and return home to their territory with it so that every hearth on the island could be lit, and so burn, with the one flame.

In its revived form, it was a festival of art, culture, and music, more closely resembling the type of festivals we have today, though the crowning glory would be the relighting of the sacred fire on the hill once again – just as our ancestors had done.

The festival was full of artistic, musical, and friendly people. The sort of people you’d expect to find at a festival like this. And I was very lucky to be there with a large group of special friends.

Afterwards, we all spoke of how energetic the experience was. Magical, almost. Spiritual.
The atmosphere was palpable.

You could feel something in the air and could almost see twinkles from the corner of your eyes as you laughed.
It felt trippy and dreamy. Strange and unusual yet familiar and kind. And, no, we weren’t high!

The closer we got to nightfall, the more intense the feeling became.

Spontaneously, a group of us were asked to be part of the procession by some of the organisers.

We simply (or luckily?) happened to be standing in the right place at the right time and agreed without a second thought.

We were already giddy, so the chance to walk in the procession to light the fire seemed like the natural and obvious thing to do.

Our faces were painted with spirals and we were handed long red poles with firey ribbons blowing in the wind. We waited for dusk when the ceremony would begin.

My friend and extended kinsman, a Byrne, like my grandmother, decided to use the opportunity of waiting to snap some photos of us.

It wasn’t until we looked at them later that we noticed something strange covering my face. Something too obvious for us to ignore or dismiss. Something unusual, yet fitting.

Now, I’m not one to look for signs and wonders in every camera flare or shadow, but this is one image I find hard to look at without feeling some of that giddiness again.

It’s hard for me to dismiss.

It’s too ‘in your face’. It’s literally on mine!

But if it was going to happen anywhere, the Hill of Uisneach is the place you might expect it.

It’s just that sort of place.

Later, I’ll post another story from several years later when I was invited once again. This time to deliver (perhaps?) the first speech on the Brehon Laws given at Beltaine in over 1500 years on the Hill of Uisneach. 🔥

By: Kevin Flanagan, May 2021