Cuinín Geal (KWIN-een GYAL)

It appears like a breath caught on bark—soft, golden, and trembling in the filtered light. The Cuinín Geal does not grow in clusters or rings, but as singular, jellylike folds that seem placed rather than sprouted. Its color—pale gold to butter-yellow—catches the eye gently, never jarring, as if it were made to be noticed only when the mind is already still. In Tir na nÓg, it is not a sign of magic gone wrong, but of *feeling released with grace.*   Found on fallen branches or dying wood, the Cuinín Geal does not feed in haste. Its jelly structure pulses faintly in the damp, drawing in moisture and mood alike. Though it reacts to the physical environment, its appearance is most often associated with emotional closure. Many believe it surfaces after moments of deep, quiet catharsis—where grief was spoken aloud to no one, or where joy departed softly, leaving no ache. It is not called forth, but felt into being.   Those who live near its favored groves speak of it as a “listener’s bloom.” Not because it hears in any literal sense, but because it coincides with spaces where things have been *said*—secrets released into moss, regrets exhaled to stones, or gratitude offered without witness. In such moments, when the emotional current is allowed to flow freely without binding to the self, the Cuinín Geal may appear by morning.   Its texture is cool, tremulous, and slightly translucent—like dew solidified into shape. It never hardens. If touched, it does not collapse, but neither does it resist. It is held together by the same subtle stillness that called it forth. Despite its soft appearance, it is long-lasting, able to endure weeks of rainfall and cycles of warming sun without withering. Eventually, it folds back into the branch, fading without rot or residue.   In traditional practice, no offerings are left for Cuinín Geal. To do so is seen as misunderstanding its purpose. Instead, one sits nearby and simply breathes—acknowledging whatever truth the land has acknowledged with its bloom. Some stone circles bear engraved images of its folds, signifying places of reflection and unburdening. It is not sacred because it is rare, but because it never appears without meaning.