Lemurian Abbey: The Building Begins

Hammer rings against anvil, the forge that will frame and fashion the Lemurian Abby flickers into life. Hephaestus, I might send to your aid; Vulcan, Mulciber, God of the Forge and Fire. But Hephaestus is unknown to me.

You shape your forge upon this rocky outcropping, this chiseled stone, where lightening struck like the chimes of eternity . . . here on this remote, rocky mountain, you will build. Think you that this megalith of suspended stone, might once have been the where that kept great Prometheus bound? A Chained, constrained, fettered and tortured eternity for the shocking beneficence of gifting human-kind with fire. Eternity. And yet the stone is vacant now. The manacles opened, empty. What does it mean?

The shackles and chains will dissolve in a forge of fire. They will be recast as leaded windows where stained glass will bloom in vivid colors with the forever fire of the setting sun.

Smith, standing at the cross-roads where legend has placed you, bring forth your covenant, of a sweet sustenance that will not shatter. In silent support, in unspoken understanding, I come to you as Brigid. I come beneath the miraculous triple mantle of healing, poetry and smithcraft. I bring the power of fire: light, inspiration, inner healing and vital energy.

To Brigid, all fires are the same - the fires of inspiration, the inner fire that heals, the fires of the home and the forge alike. There is no separation between the inner and the outer worlds.

I come to you as both Bansidhe and Filidh, woman of the Fae, Seer-poet. It is said that those poets who have gone before dwell in the realms between the worlds, overlapping into ours, and it is thus that the old songs and stories will be heard, remembered and preserved. I come to revere the words of the Masters, revive and reserve the songs of the Bards, retain their forms, recall their fire; with learning, with intuition, with divination; from leather bound tomes, from memory, from the breath of the past.

The smith is a sacred trust, handling the magic of the primal fire, commanding the inviolable ability to mold and change metal through skill, knowledge and strength. Brigid brings a vast tenacity, a legacy of traditions that have survived when all else was lost. Healer, poet, Bride of fire, Brigid stands beside the cross roads. She stands beside the Smith.

Brigid holds the mystery. She knows the secret. On this rocky mountain side will rise a dwelling dedicated to creative energy, art, inner healing and the fire of inspiration. Brigid smiles at the empty stone, knowing.

Prometheus is unbound.