I was way-finding to Jack’s cottage for the first time, meandering and backtracking through the Irish landscape where road signs are scarce and directions are often based on landmarks familiar only to locals. Turn left just beyond Clancy’s new barn. Finally on what I determined was the right road, I passed McCarthy’s pub. A bit unusual given its substantial size and rural location, but more unusual given the early  afternoon hour and the car park filled with trucks and livestock trailers. Curious. When I mentioned this to Jack he said, “Oh, it must be Wednesday. Your man there is a healer and Wednesday afternoons he does cows and horses and sheep.” I was intrigued but further exploration would have to wait for my next visit.

This past summer when I shared my intention to stop by the pub and meet the owner Jack looked at me like I was daft until I explained my reasons and then he chuckled. “McCarthy’s not the healer he just owns the place, convenient for local farmers and a car park big enough for all lorries and trailers. No, the man who does the healing owns a shop in the village just there on the main street. He’s a butcher.”

It turns out your man O’Donoghue does healings for people on Wednesday mornings in his kitchen. Then after a lunch break he goes out to McCarthy’s for the livestock. After dinner he goes to the local dog track and heals dogs. And, like Biddy Early, he takes no money for any of it. Now more intrigued than ever, I had to meet this man.

The next morning I stopped by his shop before heading north to Sligo. But he wasn’t there. Turns out the Galway team had, for the first time in many years, won the match the day before and O’Donoghue was taking the day to recover from a night of celebration. The butcher who was there was very friendly, gave me permission to photograph the shop and told me O’Donoghue was a great talker if I could come back another day. It didn’t seem right to walk away empty handed but here I was a vegetarian in a butcher shop. I hadn’t a clue. So on recommendation I purchased a generous supply of garlic sausage which I promptly drove to Sligo and handed over to a very surprised Elizabeth and Brendan.

My schedule didn’t allow a return visit. Perhaps this summer….

When Brendan first shared the cow healing story with me I was delighted by his telling of it and honored by his confidence. I also considered his account extraordinary in the true sense of the word. By then I was well aware of the magic that lived in Ireland’s sacred sites but rather oblivious to the extent magic lived in the people. It was my friend Jack who set me straight. There are loads of healers in Ireland he told me, naming several from his village.

Those with healing powers exist in many cultures, especially cultures with deep roots in their indigenous wisdom traditions. However you generally don’t find these folks in the phone book, their notoriety influenced by how much the prevailing culture acknowledges and accepts the reality of who they are and what they offer. I suppose it’s a bad pun to say that in many places Earth healers have become an underground phenomenon. Whether they work with Earth energies, angelic energies, plant spirits, animal guides, ancestor spirits – and more –  they are working with and through relationships and alliances in other realms and that is simply scary business for many people.Scary indeed. And counter to modern church theology. Which is why what I now find extraordinary is not the existence of healers in Ireland but just how common place they are. While they may be hidden to the casual or occasional visitor they are hidden in plain sight.

Some of you will know this story as it is one I wrote some years back. Just one of Brendan’s encounters with Ireland’s healer tradition…indeed, a shamanic tradition.

The cows had been de-horned that morning, but it wasn’t a good job. They were bleeding out. By late evening there was no improvement and Brendan was deeply concerned. He called a neighbor farmer for advice. “Well, now,” the neighbor said, “you could always call the vet. Though it is rather late.” There was a long pause before he continued. “Or I can give you the number of a woman in County Antrim.” Brendan took down the number and rang the old woman five counties away as the raven flies. “Now tell me, “ she said, “exactly what is wrong with your cows.” Brendan told her. “You’re sure now,” she pressed, “you’re sure that’s the problem?” Brendan assured her. “And now exactly how many cattle have you?” she asked. Brendan told her twelve. “Now you’re certain that’s the exact number?” she pressed again. Brendan was sure. There was a pause. The woman spoke some words Brendan did not understand. Then another pause. Finally the woman said, “Now I think if you go out to your cows, you will find they are all well and good.” Brendan thanked her and went directly to the barn to find the bleeding stopped, the wounds healed.

When I took his photo for this story, I mentioned my assumption that this event occurred when he, as the oldest boy of thirteen children, took over the family farm when his father died. Long before he became a teacher. Long before he retired as a school principal. “Oh, no,” he told me, “that was only four or five years ago. I still own land of the family farm. And still have cows.” he said, pointing over the stone wall to the animals in the adjacent field. 

During my stay at Serenity Lodge last summer I called a local shaman recommended to me by friends in the Gort area. Small world. It turns out one of this man’s children has Elizabeth and Brendan’s son, Kyle, as a teacher at a nearby primary school. They recognized the name immediately. And again I found myself dancing a bit as I wasn’t sure how publicly known were this man’s shamanic practices. Brendan and Elizabeth know him as a former priest, now a practicing psychologist. Kyle knows him as a student’s father, nice guy, someone who looks at the sky a lot. So they were most curious and intrigued. Why was I wanting to call this man?

Attempting to dance quickly through this conversation I made casual reference to understanding that, obviously in addition to all they know about him, he’s also a shaman. Blank expressions all round. “Now what exactly is that you are talking about, shaman?” Oh, great. I had the distinct impression I was at some level outing this poor man I hadn’t even spoken with yet. Choosing my words carefully I shifted to a healer archetype, one I hoped would be more resonant with the wise woman tradition of Ireland. A tradition Brendan is most familiar with as I will share in the story of Earth Magic.

I think it worked, at least I hope it did. After a lovely conversation the shaman and I agreed to stay in touch and hopefully meet each other this coming summer when I am again in the Sligo area, staying at Serenity Lodge. I’m packing my dancing shoes.