“For me. I think one of Brid’s most significant contributions was to inspire artisans to continue
on their path towards more successful and excellent work. Sometimes it’s not easy when you see
someone who spent a lot of time, but may be really fumbling with pulling together a good
project or research. She always had a way of combing through to “nd the embers of what could
be a very excellent work. She carefully stoked those embers with the artist to encourage them to
continue to try to improve.”

Earl George Emerson True, OL, OP

My name is Astrid Eiriksdottir and I come to you to speak of a tiger but not just any tiger but of Brid nic Shéarlais a wise tiger of the East whose words halted wars.

Those same words to kings that shaped the entire nature of reigns. Whose words traveled far and wide. The woman who owned half of Ireland that she worked with her bare hands.

The woman whose voice spoke LOUD yet whispered the words that you needed to hear. The tiger of the East that made and told history. She whose Love reached our hearts and there it stays.

My name is Astrid Eiriksdottir and I come to speak of a woman, a tiger, a friend Brid nic Shéarlais.

May her name be forever spoken, her love never fade and her words never forgotten.

Lady Astrid Eriksdottir (Carolingia) – Brid’s last protégé

“Mistress Brid was a woman of endless curiosity and encouragement. I first got to know her through “Spinny,” a group of mostly young, mostly women who would gather at her home to learn spinning and other fiber arts. After she took me on as apprentice, we spent many evenings together where I would come in bubbling over with the latest new thing I had tried, or researched, and she would encourage me to take it even further. I never had to worry about her eyes glazing over because she had gotten board with my ramblings. She pushed me out of my comfort zone, but was always there to support me. Later, those evenings were replaced with mornings in her garden, marveling over the birds and flowers and tomatoes, and other wonders of the universe. I will always remember her kindness.”

Mistress One Silverhair, OL

“The first time I met Mistress Brid was when rocks were soft or maybe just my head. Same thing she would say. It was at an event that was taking place on her property up near Canton, NY in the Northern Outpost. She was obviously the matriarch of the local group and told many stories and had a laugh that was infectious.

Also at the event were a lot of other late teen – early twenty somethings, one of whom was a guy rather full of himself (not myself, Alberic, or Cedric also at the event). He was being fairly boorish around the young ladies present.

Mistress Brid, being the “perfect lady” she was decided to tell us all about the ewes and rams on the property.

“Do you remember that ram I showed you early today? The docile one? Well, when he was young, he was full of himself. He butted heads, chased people, and was a real menace to the ewes and every woman who came in to the “elds.

“Well, how do you deal with a ram that is feeling full of himself? You grab him, hold him down on his back, take a rubber band and wrap it around his “parts” as tight as you can, then you leave it on until his “parts” FALL OFF!” As she finished she pointedly stared the young man down.

She was a force of nature all on her own. Brid will be cherished as long as I breathe! “

Baron Rhys Aiden Bifjord, current Seneschal of Concordia

For Brid nic Shéarlais, Fifth Tyger of the East

By Sir Tiberius Iulius Ruf us Primus

Read in court by Queen Meghanta at the Sign of the Dancing Fox
February 7, A.S. 60

She drew a living story from the sheep,
patient as dawn, returning it as wool.
Nothing was rushed; the work required her hands
to learn the shape of hearth and human law.
Even the cold found welcome in the snow,
if met with care, and held in quiet seeing.

She learned by standing still, by practiced seeing,
listening for what was asked by !ock and sheep.
Nothing was forced against the drift of snow,
the work went slowly, faithful to the wool.
Care showed itself as something like a law,
made real and durable by patient hands.

In crowded halls, her work was known by hands,
long before it was named as care in seeing.
She did not raise her voice to claim the law,
but earned it, slowly, as one tends the sheep.
Her gifts moved outward, measured first in wool,
and held their warmth against the weight of snow.

She bore the Tyger gently, without roar, through snow,
guarding the East by watching work and hands.
Her strength lay not in claw, but tending wool,
in naming care itself a way of seeing.
She noticed who was waiting, tired, or tending sheep,
and kept a space where mercy shaped the law.

She lived at ease within herself and law,
untroubled by the long, enclosing snow.
Affection moved where welcome called it—sheep
and people drawn alike by open hands.
Her freedom showed as patience, learned in seeing,
a life made warm by work, by love, by wool.

Now winter deepens; days are shaped by wool,
the work complete, and held within her law.
What lasts is not the name, but learned seeing,
a warmth remembered even under snow.
We pause, as she did, trusting careful hands,
and follow gently where she tended sheep.

Fifth Tyger of the East, from sheep to wool, your hands
held law that lived, not hardened into snow—
and taught us, gently, how to tend our seeing.

This poem is offered in remembrance of Brid nic Shearlais, Fifth Tyger of the East. I keep thinking about a moment at an arts competition, when she stopped at my display and took time with a small leather pouch I had made. She didn’t rush or perform judgment. She looked closely at the stitches, asked about the choices I’d made, and talked with me about small work done carefully. What stayed with me was how seen I felt. She did not rush to praise or correct or comment, but focused on the noticing.

The poem itself is written as a sestina, a traditional 12th century poetic form built from six repeating end-words that return in a fixed pattern over six stanzas and a closing envoi. It’s a demanding form, one that asks for patience and attention rather than flourish. I chose it because it felt right for the work of remembering someone whose life was shaped by care, steadiness, and generosity, and whose influence continues in quiet, durable ways.

Sir Tiberius