In Celtic Mythology this world and the Other world lie alongside each other nested together
like the layers of driftwood or of a seashell, Their boundaries shifting and permeable, The crossings simple acts for gods and birds and mythical adventures for humankind.
We guard these entryways with charm and ritual And shiver at their mention, whether in fear or in longing.
The worlds are stitched together at the edges, Dawn, dusk, the first day of winter, or summer, or a life, The edge of the sea, a riverbank, the horizon, the mouth of a cave, or of a grave. The stitches held by charm and talisman, and words of power.
And the Borderland of human boundaries... More familiar, yet infinitely more mysterious. The simple boundary of personal space, The edge of "I" and "other," constantly shifting in size and shape and intensity.
The border of sound and music, word and poetry, utility and beauty.
And there is something delightful, and cherished, and divine, In the human heart, which takes the bone from a dead bird, and shapes it into a flute, and breathes into it, and creates a bird's song!
And in this sacred act knows all there is to know of crossing boundaries.
Artist: Yelena Bryksenkova