Yes, Celtic deities aren't quite so refined and civilized as those of the ancient city dwellers. Given Her proclivities for war, cattle raiding, somewhat wild sex, and a demanding disposition make The Morrigan something of a wild one to deal with. No doubt she's at least part of the source of the much noted Irish temper!
Hold on tight, it'll be a wild ride!
Blessings on your journey, my journey with her is just starting out as well!
I suppose I really ought to answer my own question at some point, huh?
It began a long, long time ago I guess. When I grew up, we lived next to a graveyard that I would walk through to go to the corner store and post office. It was a nice, little cemetery, and I often went there to just be alone, and particularly liked walking through at night. Sometimes, on misty nights, I'd see a figure up on the little hill in the back of the cemetery. The figure had long, dark, flowing hair and looked like it was wearing some sort of long dress or gown. After a while I got up the nerve to shout after her. No response. After seeing the figure and shouting after her for a few weeks, I eventually got up the nerve to walk over. As I walked over, due to the lighting conditions and fog, I'd lose sight of her, and no one was there when I arrived. I even tried running up once.
Then the dreams started. I would dream of walking through the cemetery, but something was different. Thinking back, it was because there was no streetlights in the distance, and none of the modern buildings that stood there in waking life. I began to see the figure, but more clearly now. There was no fog, and the moon started out full. She looked tall, at first she had a long, white gown, almost like a wedding gown, maybe a very old style burial gown, I'm not sure. Her hair was dark, though I couldn't see the color. Often in these dreams, there would be crows witting in the trees and on some of the headstones.
I would call to her ask her who she was. She would just point off to my right.
As the weeks went on, the moon waned, and each time I dreamed, her dress would look darker, not just from less light, but you could see the color get darker in the moonlight. I'd get closer each time, asking who she was, if she was in trouble, if she needed a ride. and she'd just point to the right. Each time I'd look and just see the small hill over in that direction, and she'd be gone when I looked back.
When the moon was past halfway to a new moon, the crows became thicker, and would caw and squawk if I didn't head toward the woman.
Finally, the moon was new, and I could barely see, but the woman was there. For some reason I felt nervous, so i tried to just go home. The crows would grow thick and make all kinds of racket no matter which way I went except to go up the hill. So, I swallowed that huge lump in my throat and proceeded. It was so dark, I could barely see. I almost ran into her at the top of the hill. All I could see was long hair, a voluminous gown that was pure black with some sort of res cord about her waist (I have no idea how I could see that it was red). Her eyes were extremely pale, like an ice blue, but even paler. They were so vivid, they lit up her face. She was quite beautiful, with the purest, whitest skin I've ever seen. I could feel those eyes look right through me.
"Why have you brought me here?" I asked.
She pointed to my right again. I turned my head to look, but not past where I could still see her hand pointing. I turned back and said "But there's nothing over there."
She looked down at me with a look not unlike a mother looking at a child who won't listen to her. She held out her hand and I took it. Her skin was very, very cold.
We walked toward the little knoll. I notice we were walking on some sort of road paved with flat stones (which wasn't there in waking life). When we got to the knoll, it wasn't the little hill or knoll I knew in waking life, but the edge of a ridge, which swept steeply down. The road kept going down to a village. The village was on a terraced portion of the valley walls on either wide of a river that flowed through it. There was another road that approached from the opposite side, went across a bridge over the river and into the village. At the edge of the village, where the two roads met, on the corner was a little round hut that was stone about halfway up, then wood with a thatched roof (I would see this hut again).
I asked if we were supposed to go down there, and started walking. She tugged on my hand, like a mother bringing a toddler to heel. She spun me around and looked at me. I asked why she brought me here. She just sort of smirked as if she'd given me a gift who's value she knew, but I wouldn't understand. She wrapped her hands around the back of my head and brought me close, kissing me on the forehead right at the hairline.
I woke up.
It took many years, in fact, it was only last year after another series of dreams and stumbling across a couple of books, before I found out her identity.
Looking back, I guess I've been very like The Morrigan. Wise (or so I'm told), wild, feisty, combative, a flirt and definitely a beast in the bedroom. ;)
I just never thought about it when I first started out. Looking back, I guess The Morrigan has always influenced me in some manner or another even before I was Pagan. She has always been there to guide me along. I am descended from Irish royalty, or at least a very noble family (we traced our roots back) and I like to think that The Morrigan is calling me back to my roots. Of course Brighid, Lugh, Danu and The Dagda are all Gods I am particularly close with or fascinated by it is The Morrigan who remains my number one for the obvious reasons. And in her honor I have placed a raven of celtic knots on my left shoulder (the left is said to be the feminine side) who is holding a pentacle in its claw.
Same here, and lovely ink!!
This gave me goosebumps!
I had become, and still am, obsessed with foxes. While researching whatever info I could find about them, I began trying to find out what different cultures' mythological views on them were. This eventually led me to reading somewhere that Celtic, and I think maybe even some German, cultures considered them psychopomps, leading the dead to the underworld. Working at a mortuary/cemetary, this peaked my interest, in that I feel I help the dead move on by helping tie up some loose ends in our world.
So anyways, having become totally curious, I thought okay well what did these older cultures think about death. Yada yada yada and I read about the Morrigan. I'm not sure if it's because of the fact that I work with the dead that this interested me, or that she has a relationship to war and I'm also a veteran of the war in Afghanistan... but I felt a pull. I began to think how hard it is to cope with the god of Abraham and the fact that I fought in a war. I mean, you can't defend your actions at war when it's up against "The Commandments"... no matter what, you're breaking them. It's just a never-ending guilt trip after that. And I couldn't believe my research into foxes was now forcing me to consider my spirituality. All I knew was that if I had been to war back then, and had a god or goddess like this, I would be so much happier. And then, I thought, why not have a goddess like this now? What's stopping me? I understand all of this... war, death, fury, life, etc... why not honor the one that could understand me back? So I made an altar, but didnt know where to begin. I started seeing raven and crow feathers on the ground at work, after JUST having talked to someone about having worked there for so long and never having seen any of these hundreds of crows drop a single feather... and now I have a cup full of them. Once the altar was done, I tried to figure out what would be a good offering... wine... and I remembered I had bought a bottle of wine a week prior for no reason at all... and wouldn't you know, the name of the wine is Ravenswood and its logo is three ravens holding each other's feet/talons.
And THEN I found out there were other pagans... and realized I may be one too.
That is a very interesting story! She will be your strength.