She Told Me To

It’s been years since I had the chance to do what I love to do, flipping the pages of Cary Meehan’s Sacred Ireland, driving down new roads, finding a well, a stone, a secret hillside. A few weeks ago I set out on an innocent day trip visiting Irish sacred sites, but I might have ended the day cursing FaceBook. 

If you think of it, who hasn’t? 

Like my trip to the Enchanted Strand in Dingle, Ella Young got me out of the house and down the road. Last winter when I finished Ella Young and Her World, I wrote the author Dorothea McDowell a fan letter. Since then, we've been corresponding. She and a production company created a radio play based on the Ireland part of Ella's life. She wrote me last week to meet her at Cave of the Cats in Roscommon and to talk about her next project, a play about Ella’s life in California. We had great fun and made big plans, but that’s not what this post is about.

Since I was there in Roscommon, I decided to spend the night and take a meandering trip back home, visiting holy wells along the way. 

St. Patrick’s Well at Urain

The name of the town means “The Spring” so you can be sure the water is older than the saint. 

St Attracta’s Well near Ballaghaderreen

This might have been a holy well visited by my Irish gr-gr-grandparents, because they lived near here. 

St. Attracta’s Well in Clogher, Monasteraden is still in use today and is only a 10min drive from Ballaghaderreen. … According to local folklore, St. Attracta killed a serpent resulting in a holy well erupting from the ground! In ancient Ireland a serpent was said to be a fertility symbol and along the top of the well are 13 water worn stones, known locally as the serpent’s eggs but many also believe these stones may represent the 12 apostles and Jesus. This well was used by women who wanted to have children, the woman would take one of the stones from the well and after her child was born the stone was returned. There is also a bullaun at this well which is a small hollow in a boulder. The water in this stone was believed to cure children with rickets. (source)

On my way to the next well, I stopped by this dolmen. I didn’t stay long, because I really wanted to find:

St Lassair’s Well in Kilronan

There is a story recounted by Mary Condren in her book “The Serpent and The Goddess” which links Lassair to St. Brigid in a curious way. The story is that St. Brigid came to visit St. Lassair, and so Lassair slaughtered her last ewe in order to provide food for the saint. During the meal, however, St. Patrick then dropped by. Lassair had no more to offer the new guest (presumably both clerics had brought full retinues), and Lassair was at risk of breaking the laws of hospitality. Brigid shared her portion so that Lassair would not lose face, and in gratitude, Lassair gave Brigid her church (of women) and her flock of sheep. Condren reads into this a passing on of the following of a local female figure to the stronger, national figure of Brigi; a handing-on of the flame, or the mantle, to keep practices of female spirituality alive in an increasingly male church.(source)

After I got home, I learned from Story Archeology that St Lassair means flame, so this saint is just our own dear Bridget.

Her name means “Flame”, and a 17th century hagiography from the Stow Missile reports that this name was given to her when she survived a raging fire. She was apparently so absorbed in the singing of psalms and prayers that she didn’t notice the flames roaring high above her head. The onlookers saw the young woman surrounded by fire, and the name “Lassair” stuck to her from then on. This naming story mirrors almost precisely a story of the young St. Brigid.

This is a lovely spot, well signed, with wide roads and easy parking. The photo above shows the cross, the altar table and stone, and a shrine to Our Lady. You can sort of see the wall around the well just beyond the altar.


What you can’t see is this bust of St. Lassiter herself, a commemoration of the visit of the pope.

At wells with elaborate rites in the folklore you often find a soggy notice from the Bishop, like you do at St Lassair’s, telling you how to use the shrine. This one describes prayers and circlings of shrine, well, altar, and cross, ending with thanksgiving for one’s own baptism and contemplation everlasting life in the graveyard on the hill above the shrine. (The Dead there share the sacred ground with a shrine to O’Carolan, the harpist. )

I stood in front of the shrine to Our Lady, covered in rosaries and Majugoria bracelets. There was a 50 c coin and a euro coin near her feet. 

I took the euro off the altar and put it in my pocket. 

I swear, she told me to. 

Then I went to the well. I forgot to take a picture of it, and it probably would be disappointing, as photos of wells usually are. It was filled with clear water, suitable for magic of all kinds. The only odd thing was a 4-inch plastic dashboard Jesus in a red robe standing on the rim. He’s not there any more. 

I swear, she told me to. 

Next, I walked to the altar table. Folklore says if you crawl under it three times, it cures backache, but my back doesn’t hurt, and I felt no compulsion. 

The top of the altar is pitted as if covered in Neolithic cup marks, but this could be a natural phenomenon. I’ve read that the stone probably once covered a neolithic grave. (You can see the well in the background. )

I have met a few cursing stones on my travels, the last one was near Killybegs. It’s a simple ritual, turn the stone to the right to bless, and turn the stone to the left to curse.

I turned the stone to the right for my wife, and then again for all my friends in Ireland and America.

And then, since I was there, I thought I might as well curse my enemy. But do I have an enemy? 

No. 

What about an enemy of the world we live in? The name of a sociopathic social media billionaire came to mind. 

Then the Saint reminded me of the coin in my pocket. She wanted to get in on it. So I tucked it under the stone.

A few days later, I heard about some shareholder lawsuits, and the WSJ began publishing internal corporate documents about the sociopathic billionaire. If that curse is working, then the blessing is too, and I’m sure you’re already feeling it.