06/09/2026
I'm getting back into my storytelling saddle again. I had a rest recently from riding off on it, but that's another story, and one which I might tell you another time….
I'll be at Highlands Rewilding in the barn at Bunloit later this month, on 26th September, 4-5pm, with threshing stories, songs and an ancient ritual dance, the Dannsa na Caillich, as documented by the great collector, Carmichael. Thank you Highlands Rewilding
This is the Cailleach Goddess in her threshing season aspect: the Cailleach of the Mill-dust, Cailleach an Dùdain.
Moreover, this is the Cailleach Goddess dancing with the Bodach god. They rarely make an appearance together, so this is something quite remarkable.
We revived this ancient dance at Seanchas in 2021, and it was pretty powerful.
That was when Seanchas was still over at Belladrum, before we moved to set up at Grotaig….. And we're still setting up at Grotaig, which is a test of my patience….. I'm glad to say, we're getting there, slowly but surely. We'll be in there before we know it??
The Dannsa na Caillich will be masked again, emphasising its ancient magical ritual roots. We'll need a Bodach to dance with the Cailleach btw :)
I'll be telling stories and singing Gaelic songs, moving us through from the harvest and harvest-end, to the threshing, which was a part of the rhythm of our ancestors. It's a rhythm we've lost, and I remember as a young child on a farm in Aberdeenshire in the 70's, with my adoptive dad, sitting up high in the combine harvester. I didn't understand aged four that what our harvester machine was doing was combining the reaping and the threshing. There was still a rhythm to it - albeit mechanical - and certainly still an urgency to it, to get it all done before the weather would break. It was a golden time, in the sunshine with the strong aroma of the yellow barley, which I really loved.
However, these were not the rhythms of our ancestors, even the more recent ones. My adoptive dad's recent ancestors in Perthshire and in Kiltarlity near Belladrum, and my blood ancestors on the Isle of Skye and the Isle of Lewis, were reaping and then threshing by hand, as were other Indigenous folk everywhere. I don't want to romanticise that, for it was hard, hard physical labour. However, it put us in a closer relationship with the land.
And when we're in a closer relationship with the land is when we understand our relationship to the magical. As the poets have phrased it, “the Otherworld is just behind the house on the hill”, and that is what runs right through our old stories and songs in the Highlands and Islands. With the Otherworld just there, we're right up close to it, so close we can feel it, we can touch it, even - that is happening all the time - we can see it, we can hear it.
Is that uncanny? Yes! And that's why our old stories and songs and dances are so alive and so appealing :) It's also why I've done a lot of training in and practice in the magical tradition of the Gàidhealtachd. I'll be offering experiences in that in a wee bit.
For now, come along to Bunloit on the 26th and I'll share story, song and dance!
Tickets £10/£5, and if you can pay, I'd be grateful as this is my livelihood. However, as always, if you're a bit broke right now, just bring yourself, as stories are for everyone (just let me know that you're coming, as we still need to know numbers, not least for the cake, thanks).
Alis Ballance
