A personal piece today, about how the Mórrígan shows up in my life.
When my Mam showed me pics of her new camper van, I was delighted.
Both delighted for her, as it is a lifelong dream realised and a new chapter opening up for her… but also delighted by the van.
It’s not super fancy, but that’s ok. We’ve never been a super fancy sort of a family.
It is totally ‘on brand’ though, for the colours of the Mórrígan (red, black, white and grey), hence my personal delight.
“You should call her The Queen,” says I. “Because those are the Mórrígan’s colours.”
We laughed, and she did, in fact, decide to call her camper van ‘The Queen’.
Fast forward now, to a couple of weeks later.
The van has passed it’s DOE test, and a check over by the seller’s mechanic, who has also cleared it as good to go.
(The DOE test – Department of Environment – is Irish government required to test the road-worthiness of a vehicle.)
It’s collection day, and we’re travelling cross country to go collect the van, and then me and my sister would drive home with the Mammy as she gets used to driving a big vehicle again.
All’s going well until about 30 mins from home, when we get a panicked call from Mam saying there’s a fierce burning smell, and the battery light came on, and the van stopped.
She’s afraid to drive it.
We’re on the motorway, so we have to find the next exit, loop back to the previous exit, and come up behind her.
Meanwhile, she’s been on the phone to a few people, and for some reason has started driving again, on the hard shoulder, going slow.
As we come up behind her on the road, we can see what looks like a cable flapping loose down under the van.
“Stop driving Mam, for feck sake,” says I.
We all park up and get out, pop the bonnet on the van, and see the rest of the frayed ‘cable’, which is actually a very destroyed belt. It’s a thing that’s needed to turn smoothly, so the alternator and the battery get the charge on (among other things, I think, but that explains the battery light and power cut, at least.)
This belt is not turning smoothly.
This belt will never turn anything again, in fact.
We make a couple more phone calls, organise a tow truck to bring it back to her own mechanic, and all pile back into my sister’s car to get the rest of the way home.
Rather less triumphantly or excitedly than expected.
My poor mother was actually quite upset, and feeling quite sorry for herself and her bad luck.
My sister pointed out that it was much better for this to happen – if it was going to happen anyway – with a safe place to pull over, a half hour from home, and the pair of us close by to pick her up.
Rather than, say, on some winding little botharín along the Ring of Kerry or somewhere, with barely room to pass at the best of times, and miles from anyone.
And it struck me – that is completely on brand for the Mórrígan too.
She has often taken a firm hand in destroying a thing in my life that is worn out, gone past it’s usefulness, or is about to break anyway.
It often felt like the end of the fucking world when she did it too.
Felt like I had the worst luck, like I was working for and being guided by a Goddess who didn’t give a shit about me, or what I wanted (or needed).
But guess what?
Every single time that’s happened, it’s been absolutely the best thing for me.
And usually the best thing for everyone involved, as it turns out.
The Mórrígan brings change, and that can feel big, or scary, or even unnecessary.
Because we don’t see what she sees, or know what she knows. And there’s that prophecy element too.
Destroying and clearing a thing now, to save you infinitely more trouble later, is totally on brand for the Mórrígan, and I’m here for it.
She’s earned my trust.
(If you’d like to watch an interview I did with my Mammy, you can see it on my YouTube here…)