The Tale Of Dair & Lugna

This is a touching 'beauty and the beast' story from the Western Isles of Scotland (with roots, perhaps in Ireland). It is a tale of loneliness, compassion, and, ultimately love. It is a tale that will help us to move beyond the surface of things to connect with inner meaning. I love this story and hope you do, too.

Transcript

We often become fixated on the surface of things,

At the cost of the meaning of things.

This is a story from the western Isles of Scotland,

Although I think you may have roots in Ireland.

There's a beautiful version of it in David Campbell's book,

Out of the Mouth of the Morming,

And it's from David that I first heard this story.

It's the story of Dyer and Loganagh.

Dyer loved the island.

It was the island of her birth.

It was the island of her heart.

And on this day,

As on many other days,

She sat in that place that she loved,

Grassy slope below the croft house that she shared with her family.

And as she sat there on that hot,

Dry summer afternoon,

She gazed out across the bay,

Where she looked to her like a blue-green-grey medal.

And she could see a silver glint of the sun glistening on the crests of the waves across the bay.

And she could see patches of darker water.

Those were the deeper places.

And a boat was making its way to shore,

And it was rowed by Loganagh the Hunchback.

And he was bringing his day's catch back to shore.

And as Loganagh struggled to haul his boat ashore,

Dyer could hear the crunch and the scrape of the shingle on the underside of the boat.

And she could also hear the laughter and the shouts of the children of the island as they poured down onto the beach,

And those children threw stones at Loganagh,

And they mocked him,

And they jeered,

And they laughed at him,

For they feared Loganagh the Hunchback.

And Loganagh turned his face away from the children as he struggled to lift his catch onto his shoulder.

And as Loganagh hurtled along the beach with his catch balanced awkwardly on the hunch of his back,

And the children jeering and laughing and throwing their stones,

Dyer was moved to pity.

She had been to the well and she had a pail of water,

So she ran down onto the beach,

And she lifted a cup of water to Loganagh's lips,

And he drank deep of that cool water.

And he lifted those dark,

Sad,

Lonely eyes of his,

And he looked upon Dyer's face with gratitude,

And he never forgot that small act of kindness.

Now when winter came,

It was a harsh winter,

A wet winter,

And there were gales that blew across the island,

And then the earth froze hard,

And it stayed frozen hard well into spring.

And when spring gave way to summer,

Summer was also harsh.

It was dry and it was hot,

And the winds continued to blow across the island,

So that the crops were ruined.

And when winter came,

It was again a harsh winter,

And without food,

The islanders went hungry,

And many died.

They're under cover of darkness.

Every so often,

Loganagh would make his way to the croft door of where Dyer and her family lived,

And he would leave dried fish and oats that he had stored up and peats for the fire,

And in this way,

Dyer and her family survived that harsh winter and made it through to the springtime.

And one spring morning,

Dyer's father was walking on the Shingle Beach,

And he chanced upon Loganagh,

Who was preparing his boat for the day.

Dyer's father said,

Loganagh,

I know it was you who left dried fish and oats and peats by your croft door,

And it is thanks to you,

Loganagh,

That my family survived the winter.

How can I repay you?

Loganagh turned away,

She embraced.

The Dyer's father,

Who was a kind man,

Laid his hand on Loganagh's shoulder,

And he said,

Loganagh,

I owe you the lives of my wife and my children.

How can I repay you?

Again Loganagh looked up with those dark,

Sad,

Lonely eyes,

And he said,

There is but one thing that my heart desires.

I would marry your daughter,

Dyer,

For I love her.

And when Dyer's father spoke to her about this,

She said,

No,

No,

No,

No,

No,

No,

No,

No,

No,

No,

I could never love such a man,

I could never love such a man,

I can scarce look upon him.

The Dyer's father spoke to her of the debt that they owed Loganagh,

They owed him their lives.

So Dyer agreed to marry Loganagh.

They were married in the small white chapel by the shore.

Now Dyer cared for Loganagh,

She made and sewed his clothes,

She cooked for him,

She kept his house,

And Loganagh worked hard fishing every day because he loved Dyer and he wanted the best for her.

But he knew in his heart that she could not love him,

And this made his sadness even more painful to bear.

The island was no longer a happy place for Dyer,

And the place that she loved was now empty to her.

And as she sat there gazing out over the bay it seemed a dull grey to her now.

And the larks which had once danced and circled in the air above her singing beautiful melodies that reminded her of the melodies that the old people sang around the fires in the wintertime,

They were gone now.

And in their place circled the gulls which seemed to mock Dyer in her unhappiness.

As she looked out over the bay she saw Loganagh's boat coming for shore,

And in the prow of that boat stood a man,

And he seemed to glow.

For this was Column Kil,

And the people of the island knew that Column Kil was a saintly man,

A man who had given his life to God,

A man who had submitted his will to the will of God.

And when the boat was brought ashore,

Column Kil made his way straight to the croft house that Dyer shared with Loganagh.

And he took Dyer's hands,

Her soft hands,

In his strong,

Gnarled hands,

And he looked at her and he said,

You are the wife of Loganagh,

He spoke of you on the boat.

And Dyer said,

Yes,

This is true,

I am the wife of Loganagh,

And I care for him,

And I sew and I mend and I make his clothes and I cook his meals and I keep his house,

And he looks after me.

But in my heart I cannot love Loganagh.

You are Column Kil,

You must know of the island where the women who give themselves to God live,

The women who never marry.

I would rather be on that island with them.

Column Kil looked at Dyer and he said,

Do you believe that all things are possible for God?

And Dyer said to him,

Yes,

I do,

I do believe that.

So would you go this night and pray that God bring love where love is not?

I will,

I will do that,

Column Kil,

Said Dyer.

But in her heart she did not believe that this was possible.

Well that night,

Loganagh went to the small chapel by the shore and on his knees he prayed all night long.

And Column Kil walked to Shingle Beach and prayed.

And Dyer sat by the window of the croft and gazed down into the night which was a wild night.

And as she watched the wind blow the black clouds across the moon and shake the trees that surrounded the croft,

She became tormented.

And all night she was tormented.

She cried,

Prayed,

But she could not.

Until at last she grabbed her shawl and she wrapped it around her shoulders and she ran out into the night.

And at that moment a gust of wind blew the black clouds away from the moon.

And the moon shone its light down and it cast the shadow of a hawthorn tree over Dyer.

And it took on the form of a savage beast.

And Dyer shrugged back against the croft wall where she felt the savage beast had come to devour her heart.

Then she felt a tender touch on her shoulder and she lifted her gaze.

There stood Lugner with his dark,

Sad,

Lonely eyes brimming with love for Dyer.

And in that moment she recalled that day on the beach where she had lifted cool water to Lugner's lips.

And the gratitude in his eyes.

And she threw her arms around Lugner's neck and she felt his great strength.

She also felt his trembling vulnerability.

Lugner,

You are a good man.

Come into the croft where I shall warm you.

When the sun rose out of the mouth of the morning,

Colin Kiln approached the croft house and entered the croft house to see Lugner and Dyer sitting by the fire.

And he ate breakfast together.

Then Lugner went to prepare his boat.

And Colin Kiln turned to Dyer and he said to her,

Would you still travel to the island of the women who give themselves to God?

I would not,

Said Dyer,

My place is here on this island which I love with my husband Lugner.

Dyer walked down to that place which she loved and she stood there and she watched as Lugner rode with his strong arms out into the bay with Colin Kiln standing in the prow of his boat.

And to Dyer's eye there were now two points of light glowing from that boat.