The timeless sound of bagpipes lilted through the pines upon the cool, morning air. I breathed it in, closed my eyes, put my hand to my heart.
I claim my French ancestry and years of learning the French language in my youth for this blog, but I am decidedly Celtic. English and Scottish relatives dominate my genetics.
Our family attends the Elizabeth Celtic Festival each year to celebrate the history, music, food, and drink of our people. It is lovely to feel connected. We are in the Clan Mackay. When my granddaughter’s friend was about to arrive at the festival, Maryjane announced, “When she gets here I will teach her all about being Celtic. She might not know about these things.”
My daughters sell our medicines and I peddle my books at the two day festival. We had two booths this year and brought lots of chairs. Our family comes, their friends come, our great friends attend; it is a big “family” reunion each year under the Ponderosa pines.
There was a time when the people were not allowed to organize. Their religion was taken away in favor of Christianity, the wise elders were killed, and they were not allowed to form a military. The Scottish games were a form of training under the guise of fun and athleticism. Throwing a caber (looks like a telephone pole) helped increase strength and assured logs could be thrown over ravines to make bridges. The games helped the men learn to throw massive stones to protect themselves. The children were taught early.
There are many festivals that one could seek out in their area. There are Mexican, Greek, or Irish, just to name a few. To attend a festival is to be immersed in history, culture, foods, peoples, and to find new adventures and friends. Music, dance, and arts of the region represented are all delightful to learn and experience. They bring us closer, dispel ignorance, and make life more beautiful.
Attending a festival is another way to create La Belle Vie.