Oran Mor
ORAN // The Great Song I have a handful of essays waiting to be written about my son, and his journey into my body and onto Earth. About the lessons and teachings he has already given, about his essence and memory and becoming his Mama. He has already woven and unwoven so many threads, bringing our lives into harmony and balance.
This boy was to have a different name. From the moment we considered that he might be a boy (I was absolutely convinced he was a girl), two names came into the field. The first was Arthur. The great dragon, the bear, the legendary King of Albion, the weaver of the disparate tribes. The great wise ancient ruler of our homelands. We called him this for months and months. The name he had in our hearts and in the mythos was clear.
The name Oran found us later, on a list, sharing its meaning of “Light” in Aramaic (Christ’s native tongue) and “song” in Scots Gaelic (our ancestral native tongues). It seems sweet enough, and our boys name came to be Arthur Oran, the bear song.
A couple of months before he was born, he came to me in a dream— and I said, “Arthur!”— thrilled to see him. And he replied. “That’s not my name. My name is more like Noah, or Oran.” I awoke slightly perturbed but happy enough that Oran would be his middle name.
A month before he was born, fully landed here in Alabama, I was weaving a in-person group of women with the dragon medicines— with the memory of the holy Christed life force and the Pendragons, and our deepest devotional creative capacities. In the third week of our class, as we cleared layers of programming in our wombs, my son came in. My entire womb turned to white rainbow light, and he told me that he wanted to change his name.
“I am not a warrior, mama. I did not come to clear karma and fight wars. I am a great song, the perfection of Life, the light, the beauty, the color of all things. I am innocent and whole.”
I looked at Richy that night, and I knew.
As we dove deeper into the name Oran, I uncovered a trove of radiant gems, so perfect, so true.
Every indigenous lineage on Earth holds a creation myth— stories of where we come from, how we came to be on Earth, and what this Life means. I have a personal deeeeep love of them.
These myths deeply inform our psychological development and our relationship with the world around us. They quite literally are the bedrock of our self-knowing. The Garden of Eden, the Sky Woman Falling, the Pakarina of the Qeros, these tell us who we are. In the Celtic mythos, there is no such singular story. But there is something called the Oran Mor.
The Oran Mor is the great harmonic song of the universe — the buzzing of bees and the flowering of trees and the timing and mystery and intelligence of Gaia, of Earth. It is the generous and abundant interconnected aliveness of all things. It is the great song — the song of Creation.
The Oran Mor is the vibration, the song, the harmony that brings us out of the wars, the places of separation, the illusion, and into the Great Womb, the beauty way, the altar of Truth and Love. For me, this child has done the same. The long journey to his conception and birth has invited me to complete all wars, and to become the Mother of Creation, one who can birth the Great Song.
This is my Son. My Sun. The Great Song. The Oran Mor. Pendragon legacy, child of the King, rainbow light you are.
