You walk through a cemetery in the Scottish Highlands, a fine mist rolling in and settling between headstones and cairns. You stop, waiting for your sister. She stands over a grave marker and dips her fingers into a recess in the stone where rainwater has collected. She slowly wipes the water across her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. What is she doing you wonder, and then you remember your mother's advice: water collected from headstones and put on the skin insures beauty for years to come. Could it be true? To the ancient Celts, superstitious belief was a way of life. They could only rely on information gleaned from surroundings and those stories were passed from generation to generation over fires and ales for centuries. These folk wisdom and stories became superstitions, and real or imagined, they were important to the Celtic world.

We all know that four-leafed clovers are considered lucky; this is only one of the many superstitions gleaned from Irish culture. One of the more obscure legends from the Emerald Isle involves hair-it was thought to be a source of strength. The Irish believed this so deeply that soldiers sported long hair beyond Queen Elizabeth I's reign. After combing, any hairs that came loose had to be burned. It was thought that if birds made a nest from hair, that person could get headaches or even go blind. No fisherman's wife would brush her hair if her beloved was at sea. The Irish also believed that bald men could walk the earth after death.

Fishing villages have existed along the coasts of Wales, Ireland, Scotland, and England since the first settlers came to the British Isles. It is no surprise that many superstitions were formed around this seemingly innocuous task, since it was the life's blood of thousands of people in hundreds of towns. For instance, it was considered unlucky to cast fishing nets from the port side of a ship. In Morayshire, it was ill fated to begin the prime fishing season before blood had been spilled. To prevent a bad catch, a brawl would be planned in the village square, thus spilling the required blood to ward away misfortune. If you wished a fisherman in Portlessie, Scotland "good luck," you might find yourself punched in the nose. According to tradition, wishing a fisherman luck meant he would surely not have any. Only the shedding of blood-preferably by the speaker-would prevent the ill luck. It was considered the worst of fortune for anyone to ask a fisherman where he was going; if this happened, the fisherman would, more than likely, go home. A fisherman might not put to sea if, before his boat was on the water, he met someone with red hair, someone flat-footed, or a person with an odd appearance in any way; even an odd-looking dog would give the fisherman pause.

Raising the wind - an important power in the age of sail - was the forte of the few. There were families in the Isles of Scotland that claimed this power even down to the last century. It was not an uncommon sight to see Shetland women selling wind to sea-bound men. Among sailors in Caithness, nearly all who plied the sea for their survival believed that winds could be whistled up. A fisherman's wife would never blow on food to cool it; a storm might arise and imperil her husband's boat.

In Ireland, breath is called the "liquid of the soul," and carries powers that can be used for healing or for directing curses. Words were thought to be so potent that a spoken curse could bring illness or death. The early Celts believed that poets had a vein in their heads that others did not have. According to myth, this vein gave poets their creative and dangerous ability to wield words. Another sea-borne superstition, believed to be started by the Irish and brought to Scotland, was that salt should never be referred to while at sea. This superstition was alive and well in the twentieth century, as can be attested by the following tale. In 1905, a Scottish vessel ran out of salt and hailed an English ship. "We need something we dinna want tae speak aboot," they said. The captain of the English boat asked, "Is it salt ye want?" The Scottish crew only managed to escape ill fortune brought by the unutterable word by hiding below decks as the salt was delivered. Some animals were so ill omened that their names could never be uttered. Pigs were known as "curly tails," salmon was called "red fish," and rats, "lang tails." Old Scottish traditions warn that harming or killing a cat will bring misfortune, as will killing spiders. Not all superstitions involving animals are bad, though: if a stork builds a nest on the roof of your house, you are certain to live a long, wealthy life.

Of course, there were ways to insure that, if not you, then your children perhaps, would have wealth. In Cornwall, washing a child's hands before his first year surely removed any riches he might have gained and he would be doomed to live and die poor. To prevent children from becoming thieves, though, parents encouraged their offspring to bite their fingernails instead of cutting them. And, like the Irish, the Cornish thought that shorn hair must be burned. Some superstitions involving hair were color related. In Wales, it's bad luck if after the New Year has come if the first visitor to your home has red hair, but good luck if a black-haired man you don't know is the first to visit.

Though superstitions are thought to be flights of fancy in today's world, in ages past they were one way the ancients could explain events, coincidences, and the nature of life itself. Like stories told around a campfire, the legends, lore, and superstitions of the Celts can give us an unusual glimpse into the history of a culture far removed from our own time, and perhaps, we can see a little of their world in our own.