Burns Night Supper and Ceilidh, 2011

 The Gathering 

This past Saturday evening at 7pm SLT, many of us from throughout the Steamlands came together in the great hall of Caisteal Teanacadh on Isle of Skye to celebrate the life and works of Robert Burns, The Bard of Scotland.  (I shared some historical information on Robert Burns and this evening tradition in my previous post in the blog.)

What a joyful and meaningful time it was.  The castle was filled with the laughter of friends and neighbors.

 I greeted my guests along with Lady Rowan Derryth (l), my co-host for the night,

and Boyarina Kate Nicholas

Jarl Otenth Paderborn provided the very fine music for the evening.

Once the guests were seated, the program began.  First a welcome speech, then a reading of the Selkirk Grace selected by Otenth Paderborn.

Lady Kate paraded the haggis for the assembled guests as the pipes played and Victor1st Mornington recited (via recording) the Ode to a Haggis, as is the tradition.

(photo by PJ Trenton)

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After we raised a glass of whisky to toast the haggis, we sat down to enjoy our meal and each other's company.  

The Head Table
(l-r) Soliel Snook, Rowan Derryth, PJ Trenton, Gabrielle Riel, Eva Bellambi,
Kate Nicholas, and Serra Anansi
(photo by PJ Trenton)

 

 Thadicus Caligari and Riven Homewood

(photo by PJ Trenton)

Lord Cee Edman offered the Loyal Toast to Miss Serra Anansi.

Lord Cee is pictured with Lady Litta Nightfire

(photo PJ Trenton)

At this point in the ceremony, I asked that all guests join me in the Immortal Memory of Mr. Robert Burns:

 Seneschal, My Lords and My Ladies, Ladies and Gentlemen.  Please join with me as I toast the memory of Scotland's National Poet and the person whose life and accomplishments we celebrate tonight.

Many thousands of Scots around the world celebrate Burns night on his birthday, January 25th.  It is perhaps extraordinary that there is a Burns Supper at all.  Why do Scots the world over participate in  "Burns Supper" to perpetuate the memory of their National Poet?  Why do not other groups gather annually to celebrate the memory of the famous writers of their nations?  Why for example is there no Dickens Dinner, Tolstoy Tea, Shakespeare Roast, or Balzac Barbecue -- or some other such event? 

It would be presumptuous to assert the answers to these questions.  But, perhaps by reflecting on Robert Burns and his life we can discover some of our reasons for celebrating his memory tonight.

Had Robert Burns lived today, his earnings from one song alone -- Auld Lang Syne -- would have made him a multi-millionaire on a par with writers as Irving Berlin and George Gershwin and performers such as Elvis Presley and Paul McCartney.  Yet, when he died in 1796, aged thirty-seven, he was poor and asking financial help of acquaintances.  So what was it then about the life of this fellow, born into a poor farming family and departed in poverty that brings Scots together each year to celebrate his memory?

Perhaps he was a Scottish "Everyman." Perhaps his writing spoke to the basic emotions, thoughts, desires and fears of every person regardless of nation or rank.  People frequently attribute certain traits to the Scottish character.  Primary among them are a down-to-earthness, a plain-ness, a directness, a fierecely independent spirit, and a common touch.  Perhaps these traits have more universal appeal than is often appreciated.  It is not possible to do justice to Robert Burns character in the time allotted.  Perhaps a few examples of his character, as seen in his poetry, will do.

Burns loved people despite their weaknesses, but hated hypocrisy.

One biographer stated that the Reformer, John Knox, had more in common with Burns than with the stereotype we have of Knox today.  He stated that Burns and Knox were desperate men of crisis who played their parts in opposition to false or abused authority.  Burns' biographer wrote that had Knox seen the abuses of the Church at the time of Burns, he would have allied himself with Burns against the established Church and many of its pillars of the community.
In the poem, Holy Willie's Prayer, Burns pointed his barbed wit at a self-righteous, member of the congregation as an example of the kind of hypocrisy that can poison any institution.  Holy Willie, by his own complaints and by church standards, is shown to be an example of what to avoid.  He enumerates his own misdeeds, mentioning some of them by their first names and frequency in the week.

Burns was opposed to anyone being treated in a servile manner.

Robert Burns addressed his hatred of slavery in a poem, The Slave's Lament:

"It was in sweet Senegal


That my foes did me enthral


For the lands of Virginia, 'ginia, O!


Torn from that lovely shore


And must never see it more

and alas! I am weary, weary, O!
"The burden I must bear,


While the cruel scourge I fear,

In the lands of Virginia, 'ginia, O!


With the bitter, bitter tear,


And alas! I am weary, weary, O!"

Burns loved Liberty.

Robert Burns wrote of himself: "The first two books I ever read in private, and which gave me more pleasure than any two books I ever read again, were The Life of Hannibal and the History of Sir William Wallace.  Hannibal gave my young ideas such a turn that I used to strut in raptures up and down after the recruiting drum and bag-pipe, and wish myself tall enough that I might be a soldier; while the story of Wallace poured a Scottish prejudice in my veins which will boil along there Ôtill the floodgates of life shut in eternal rest."

Burns disliked superstition as a means by which people enslave themselves.  However, he drew upon the rich lore of Scotland and its legends and fairly tales to produce symbolism in his poetry.

Burns loved learning.

A Burns biographer once wrote that it "was parish gossip that, if you called on William Burness at meal-time, you found the whole family with a book in one hand and a horn spoon in the other."
Burns inherited his parents love of learning, a yearning that helped him to keep an open mind about himself, his Maker, acquaintances, and his surroundings.

The traits that seem to mark Burns' character all point back to the inescapable fact that he was a Scot.
The stereotype of the Scotsman, thanks largely to Sir Walter Scott and Sir Harry Lauder, is a fellow wearing highland attire.  In his life, Burns certainly did not fit that stereotype at all.  From reading his poems we gain the picture of a lowland Scot who dressed "English" according to the style of a farmer.  The book which contained most of Burns' poems, titled Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, made a favorable impression on the literati of Edinburgh.  I suppose we would call the literary critics of the time "Liberals" today.  They found their theories about the sensitivity of the common man confirmed by what they called this "ploughman poet." Burns spent the winters of 1786-87 and 1787-88 in Edinburgh as a national celebrity, but he disliked the condescension with which he was treated and so returned to farming.

No, Burns did not fit the stereotype of the Highlander in his own life or in the image he projected to literary society.  However, it is interesting to note that he penned at least one poem to sing of a displaced Scot:

"My heart's in the Highlands, 

my heart is not here,


My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer,

A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe 

My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go!
"Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,


The birthplace of valour, the country of worth!


Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,


The hills of the Highlands forever I love."

We now toast Robert Burns! Lover of people, lover of freedom and liberty, lover of truth, lover of learning, a lowland farmer, a Highlander at heart, a Scot.  

To Robert Burns!

providing the Immortal Memory toast

PJ gives us a toast to the Lassies

Mr. Trenton has graciously supplied the words of his toast on his blog, Virtually PJ

Lady Rowan Derryth responded (quite energetically) with a toast to the lads.

Lady Rowan has shared her witty words and recitations on her blog, I Derryth.

Several other toasts followed as the crowd got into the spirit of things  -  and after the spirits got into them a bit more.  :)  

As always, following the toasts, readings of Mr. Burns' works were provided.  Lady Gabrielle, Lady Rowan, Miss Homewood, and several others shared their favorite pieces with us.  Truly is was a joyful night as we listened to our friends recite and toast utilizing either voice or text (or both) in celebration of the Bard.

Lady Gabrielle ended the formal portion of the evening by reading the Grace After Supper.

To the ballroom and let the ceilidh begin!!

Even George came out to dance.

Jed Dagger dips me as the Pipers of Skye assemble

I will complete this post by simply saying that by the end of the night, my feet were bare, my hair completely loose, and my heart happy.  Thank you again for allowing me to celebrate this joyous night with you.

More photos may be found on my flickr stream here and on Mr Trenton's flickr stream over there.

Traveling in Musical Time at the Snowflake Ball

As the excitement continues to grow for my annual Snowflake Ball, I am becoming very excited about the theme that was chosen this year:

DANCING IN TIME

At the appointed hour we will all step out onto the ballroom floor, which is covered in snow (yes, this event is usually held outside). Is this indeed the grand ballroom of Caisteal Teanacadh or is it some wonderful place inside a Tardis in this Steampunk world of ours?

We are pleased to find that we recognize the faces of friends, neighbors, acquaintances, but something seems to be a bit askew. Not everyone is in the dress of the Victorian era. Some are dressed in garb more appropriate to the middle ages or the age of enlightenment. Some are in futuristic looking robes - not unlike we have seen during our time travel into the 21st Century. All are, however, formally attired and ready to dance and dance.

The orchestra this year has also been doing some time travel. I am told by our orchestral conductor, that Time Lord, Mr. Icarus Ghost (who appeared on the Caledon scene a little over a year ago having regenerated from his old self, Zenigma Suntzu) that the music mix has been inspired by his travels through space and time.

As I have stated previously we will work our way through musical eras from the 12th century to the 21st century. A bit of a twist that I believe you will enjoy is that some of the music we will hear are futuristic interpretations of the works.

While the etiquette of the ball will be quite formal & Victorian, our fashions, our music, and our dances will be an eclectic mix of past, present, and future.

I truly look forward to welcoming you with and open heart and open arms.

The First Annual Snowflake Ball, Caledon Loch Avie
January 2007


The Second Annual Snowflake Ball, Caledon Loch Avie
January 2008


The Third Annual Snowflake Ball, Port Caledon
Dancing on Ice
January 2009

A Cherished Diary Entry

One of my most treasured possessions is the small leather-bound journal my mother kept. Her tiny, meticulous handwriting fills the entire book. This particular journal was kept during the period of my childhood, which is likely why I enjoy it so well.

Opening it, the scent of leather, old paper, and a faint scent of vanilla fill the air around me. The red ribbon bookmark is in entry dated Christmas Morning the year I turned 11.

Laying there in the warmth of the fire, I listened to his slow, steady breathing. I smiled to myself as the breathing turned a bit gravel-like. Soon the hearty snoring would start. Over the years the sleep-filled noises of that oft-broken nose have become dear to me. How many years has it been anyway? Three? Twelve? Twenty? In my drowsy, dreamlike state, it was difficult to remember exactly.

I looked over at him laying beside me on the blanket he had laid in front of the fire in the parlor of Caisteal Teanacadh. This has been our tradition for many years . Yes....it has been many. Each Christmas Eve that we have the good fortune to be in our own home that is. Once Eva has been snugly tucked into her bed with many quilts and one of Jamie's plaids draped over her (She has to have his plaid each night, she says because "it smells like Da - full of sunshine, earth, and hard work." From the mouth of babes...) we settle ourselves in the parlor. Jamie builds the fire up with wood and peat as I pour the whisky and serve him a Christmas cookie or two.

Each year, we dream together on this special night. We will have gone to Christmas Eve Mass with the family earlier in the evening, which inevitably fills us both with such joy and hope that we can't but help thinking about what the future may bring even as we list the things that we are most thankful for from the waning year. What will we be doing? Where might we travel together? Will Eva continue to grow as strong in both body and mind as she seems to be doing? When will we start her training in whisky making? or sword play?

"Sword play!?!" I teased Jamie earlier.

"Aye, Sassenach, sword play. She is mine. Nay doubt canna be when one looks at her - red hair flying in the wind, a few freckles speckling her dear face, the blue and gold of her eyes. Even the way she carries herself when she walks or rides. But the shape of her eyes and her lovely mouth, those are yours, mo chride."

At this he caressed my lips and began whispering in Gælic to me. Words of love and endearment. Words that I rarely, if ever, heard from other men regardless of language - and spoken in such a manner that my skin warmed and flushed without any physical effort on his part or mine.

The discussion of her education in the finer points of swordplay would wait.

And now I sit here at my little writing table in the first light of dawn watching him again as he sleeps the deep sleep of someone safe and loved. Honestly, I think the man could sleep anywhere/anytime. But he never sleeps very deeply save when he is in his own home by his own fire feeling the love of his family.

He is my gift. A gift given to me completely unexpectedly years ago on a winter's night . A gift I shall treasure all my days - and beyond.

And now the bells of the kirk are ringing - announcing Christmas morning. Merry Christmas, indeed!

Concert & Chat With the Composer on December 20th at 7pm SLT

I'm am so pleased invite you to the ballroom of my home, Caisteal Teanacadh, on December 20th to listen to a concert* of sacred choral Christmas music by Miss Ariesse Heart - or rather, her human.



Miss Heart's guiding spirit began piano and theory lessons at the age of five, and wrote her first song at the age of twelve. Her first octavo was published twenty years later. In 1992, she became a full-time composer and arranger and now has over 1,500 published works. Over twelve million copies of her songs have been purchased in their various venues, and she has been a recipient of the ASCAP Special Award for the last 19 years.

In addition to her choral music for church and school choirs, her songs appear on thirty albums (four of which have been Dove Award Finalists) and numerous children's videos, including sixteen songs on four gold videos, and four songs on one multi-platinum video.

Her songs have also appeared on such diverse television shows as "The 700 Club" and HBO's acclaimed series "The Sopranos."

I feel so fortunate that Miss Heart has agreed to spend time with us here in the Isle of Skye, Winterfell Anodyne, Second Life, sharing her music. We will all have a chance to chat with Miss Heart during the concert as well as after the music has ended. Unlike RL composer/conductor educational moments, which must take place either before or after the music, the platform of a virtual world gives us all the opportunity to use text to ask and answer questions while the music plays all around us.

Please join me for this special holiday time together. I look forward to the opportunity to introduce you to Miss Heart, and for you to learn more about the brilliant and lovely woman behind the avatar.

*pre-recorded

Castle Warming - March 21st

Announcing the inaugural ball of Caisteal Teanacadh:

Caisteal Teanacadh

*note to the reader: Throughout this post, I will drift in and out of character as I describe the creative process that allows the story of Eva Bellambi to bloom and grow. These out of character (OOC) moments will be indicated by text written in italic font. To catch up with this chapter of my story thus far, one may review the posts here, here, and here).*

And now, Caisteal Teanacadh.....

Lunar had been working on the restoration of my family's castle and keep for the last several months (well months of our time accelerated SL - really only a few weeks). I have been living high above Isle of Skye in one of Miss Serra's fine builds during the excavation and construction. One night, he sent a message to me, "Lady Eva, the work is essentially complete. Would you come have a look?" Now of course I had been following the progress with great amazement on a daily basis, but to hear the builder say that it was nearly complete set it in an entirely new light.

His restoration of the clan home has been thorough and incredibly caring and patient. He has had the wood carvings cleaned and repaired, the stonework stabilized, and the papers and painting all painstakingly restored or recreated.

When I moved Eva from Loch Avie to Anodyne, I knew that everything about the land needed to be different. The story needed to expand on my character, and new layers of her history and life experience needed to become known. Much of my inspiration for Eva comes from my own grandmother (also named Eva), my love of the actual history of Scotland and her clans, and the fictional tales as told by Diana Gabaldon in the Outlander series of books. The Frasers of Lovat are Eva's ancestors on her father's side of the family. It is this part of the family that we now begin to explore in historical fantasy/fiction, of course. As you recall from the stories referenced above, Eva has found herself in the lands of these forebears thanks to Nellie, who guided her here. She found evidence of her family, and has reclaimed the lands. Discovering the ruins of the Clan Seat here on Isle of Skye, she engaged Lunar to rebuild, and rennovate. In reality I found inspiration for her home by searching about castles in Scotland - and in particular - on the Isle of Skye.

The one that caught my attention is Dunvegan Castle.

I sent this inspiration picture to Lunar and he felt that he would be able to create something similar based on this. I also sent along a few interior shots for his reference. We talked a bit about the history I was creating and for what purposes the castle would be used. He amazed me. He was even able to find and review blue prints of the castle, and work with an friend on what interior textures and stylings would be for castles built in this time period. What a talent this man truly has. (You will see more, in a group of exterior shots further down in this post, but I will be posting interiors as soon as I have decor where I want it.)

THERE WILL ALSO BE A CASTLE WARMING AND FORMAL EVENT ON MARCH 21ST - MORE TO COME ON THAT.

When I arrived at the bridge in front of the castle for my grand entrance and tour of the (essentially) completed restoration, Lunar handed me a bundle of yellowed papers that he said he found as he worked in the vaults of the underground portions of the castle. I did not read them at the time - only shuffled throught them, but what I found later as I sat in my new library and carefully unrolled the dusty pages amazed me. There were years of documented clan accounts from the monthly audiences that those under the chief's care had with him. Private letters, which I shall pour through with great interest. And some history of the castle and clan written over periods of time.

What I can surmise thus far are the following things.

• It was once the greatest and most renowned among Hebridean strongholds.
  
• The picturesque quality of the building itself is matched by its glorious surroundings. "Ane starke strengthe biggit upon ane craig", or so it is described by a writer of the early 1500s.
  
• And as the stories in my family have always indicated, the Frasers, at the time of the '45, supported Bonnie Prince Charlie. At the time from the castle on the other side of Teanacadh Buinne was Galtrigal, the home of the Prince's pilot, Donald MacLeod of Galtrigal, the man who brought the Prince 'Over the sea to Skye' during the time when the Prince was a fugitive.
  
• The chiefs have been fair for the most part, if very demanding and tough.
• Our clan motto has been truly earned: aut viam inveniam aut faciam
  "I will find a way or make one"

Please explore the link that follows, as a starting point if you'd like to know more about Dunvegan Castle.

Caisteal Teanacadh

Those who know me well understand that I am a strong woman, but also very expressive. When I gazed upon my completed home for the first time in it's entirity, I literally bounced up and hugged Lunar's neck, kissing his cheeks as tears streamed down my own.

The rear elevation

Simply gorgeous!

This castle on these lands. It is perfect. It is my family. It is ME.



**Teanacadh Buinne is Scots Gælic for Healing Tide. Miss Serra is gracious enough to have allowed that to be the name for the waters surrounding Isle of Skye. Although in the elven tongue it is called Eless Eccaia.


Therefore it follows that Eva's ancestors would have called the castle, The Castle of Healing, Caisteal Teanacadh. And that may be the reason that the women in Eva's family have always been known as healers. Were their abilities and strength drawn from these mysterious waters? Perhaps we'll explore this and other questions. Hmmm?**