A Child of Lir

 

Toward the end of the age of the Tuatha de Danann lived a couple, Lir and Aoibh, to whom was born four children - Fionnghuala, Aodh, and twins Fiachra and Conn. After the birth of the twins, Aoibh died to the great grief of Lir. To strengthen the relationship between Lir and himself, Bobd Derg, king of the Tuatha, arranged for the marriage of his daughter, Aoife, to Lir. All was well at first, but soon Aoife grew jealous of the love that Lir had for his children. One fine summer day, Aoife took the children for a swim at Lough Derravaragh where she cast a spell on them, turning them into four beautiful swans.

When the children did not return, Lir went to the lake in search of them, but all he found were the four swans. The spell placed upon the children, though severe, left them with the ability to sing; Lir was amazed when he realized the swans were his children, but grew increasingly angry when they told him what had happened. Returning to his castle, Lir demanded that Aoife reverse the spell, but she refused and was banished from his kingdom. From then on Lir spent all his time, for the remainder of his years, beside the lake listening to the swans, his children, sing.

Anyway, the other evening, I was riding through the Spreading Grounds as I like to do, when a movement caught my eye - it was a stunning swan. Its left wing was outstretched as if it were catching the last of the days' sun. I stopped and watched, like Lir, in amazement as the swan slowly drew its wing back against its body.

The stuff we see when we get out on our bikes. There may not have been singing, but I still felt privileged as witness to the spectacle, thinking of the legend of Oidheadh Chlainne Lir.

How big a part of bicycling is imagination? Probably more than we think. It leads us to new routes. It convinces us to attempt new challenges. What else?