The Celtic myth of Cuchulain is perhaps Ireland's most famous and celebrated. And like all personality-driven myths, it is about the rise, greatness and fall of a great hero.
Like all myths of Celtic, Nordic or Classical origin, heros wield swords battle evil but are ultimately flawed. Both God-like and human, they fall like all humans do, like Gods do. They perish by that which they live but the live on to become larger than life, and more real that reality itself. They become iconisised, symbols of a culture, a people, and eras to come. They help us realise that even in their greatness, they are flawed; in their immortality, they can die. But they can also rise to be more than their flawed nature; they can fight for the things that still matter - truth, justice, goodness.
Cuchulain is one such hero. Born of god Lugh and Deichtine, sister of the king of Ulste, Cuchulain was a man of great strength and courage. And he displayed his powers of battle from an early age. At the age of seventeen he defended Ulster single-handedly against the armies of queen Medb of Connacht . But like all heros, his life would be short though he be immortalised for his deeds. He is best remembered for metamorphosing in battle frenzy to be in a state of 'warp spasm' where he would transform to become beast-like and unable to recognise friend from foe.
To make my point, I'll bypass much of his complex life (and confusing Gaelic names). Cuchulain, of all the women he met, and he met many for he was renowned for his beauty, loved Emer but was forbidden by her father to marry her. He then sets her up with this warrior-queen called Aoife (which happens to be the name of one of my friends here) and though the battle is evenly matched, Cuchulain 'cheats', wins and spares her life by requesting she bears him a child - Connla.
Many years down, after Cuchulain goes to war in Scotland fighting for King Conchubar, Connla goes in search for Cuchulain and meets Emer. This is where Yeats, Ireland's infamous modern poet (and my favourite), begins his poem. Connla knows his father is wounded and seeks him out. He is told by Emer where Cuchulain is and when confronted by Cuchulain who he is, Connla is unwilling to reveal his identity. In other versions, Conchubar sets up the deceitful misunderstanding. Regardless of the versions, Cuchulain eventually kills his own son.
After realising his error, Cuchulain, in his frenzy and depression, and in Irish literature's most significant and iconic moments, fights the ocean for 3 days in all futility.
The battle with the ocean has since become a metaphor, well at least for me, about fighting futility yet having the courage to do so. And there is a thin line between folly and bravery.
In life, there will be struggles, there will be battles, there will be grave mistakes. And often life would present us with oceans insurmountable. There will be storms and tempests and the strongest of waves whose crests carry with them immense power that seem to charge with such frenzy.
We need to choose wisdom to know what needs to be tide through, and what can be fought. We need to know that even Gods cannot fight the ocean. But there are tides that can be surmounted.
*This post is for you. I'm sure you know who you are.
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