The Dagda at Samhain — The Good God Who Walks Between Worlds

“When the veil thins, I walk the boundary—harp in one hand, cauldron in the other.”

When the mists rise and the year bows toward darkness, the veil between the worlds grows thin.

It is then, at Samhain, that The Dagda, the Good God of the Tuatha Dé Danann, walks once more across the thresholds of time.

To the people of old, he was the Father of Plenty, the All-Father, the one whose laughter warmed the hearth even as the nights grew long. In one hand he held the cauldron of endless abundance, in the other the harp that bound the seasons, and on his shoulder the club that could slay or revive with a single touch.

He is the keeper of life’s rhythm — death and birth, feast and famine, darkness and dawn — and it is he who turns the great wheel as the light fades.

The Cauldron of Plenty

Among the treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann, none was more revered than The Dagda’s Cauldron, from which no soul left unsatisfied. It symbolised renewal, generosity, and the ever-giving spirit of the land.

Its bounty was not mere food, but the nourishment of soul and spirit — wisdom, healing, laughter, and strength.

At a time when the crops had been gathered and the land lay bare, The Dagda’s cauldron promised that abundance would return, that from death’s quiet soil new life would soon stir.

To this day, to share food and drink at Samhain is to echo that divine generosity — a sacred act that honours the balance between taking and giving.

The Dagda and The Morrígan – Union at the River Unius

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