The Crosh is a location in the parish of Lonan on the Isle of Man. The name derives from the Manx word for "cross", and the site may be connected to the ancient practice of summoning the militia by passing a wooden cross from neighbour to neighbour, or to one of the parish's numerous sites of early Christian significance.

The Cursing Stone at Raby Keeill is located in the parish of Patrick on the Isle of Man, near the site of an ancient keeill (chapel). Cursing stones are a feature of Celtic tradition, believed to bring misfortune upon those against whom they were turned, and several examples survive at early Christian sites across the Island.

The Drowning Pool and the Phynnodderee's Pool are located in the parish of Lonan on the Isle of Man. The Phynnodderee is one of the most distinctive creatures of Manx folklore, a hairy, supernatural being said to perform agricultural tasks for farmers but shunning human contact; the pool associated with it in Lonan is traditionally held to be its dwelling place.

The Manx Heritage Foundation's schools resource card records that fishermen "in early times" prayed to Saint Patrick before putting to sea: Dy bannee Noo Parick shinyn as nyn maatey — "St Patrick bless us and our boat." This was the formal prayer, spoken at the harbour, addressed to the saint. But a song called Mannanan Beg Mac y Leir also circulated among the fishing communities, collected in Kiaull yn Theay — the Music of the People, published by Culture Vannin. The formal prayer went to the saint. The song remembered the god. Both lived in the same community, often in the same boat, and nobody saw a problem with that. The two existed side by side because the accommodation ran deeper than theology. Moore records that Teare's daughter was still practising the charming of fishing nets in the late nineteenth century: "she is resorted to by the fishermen for the sake of having their nets charmed, and so cause them to be lucky in their fishing." The power passed man to woman to man, alternating through generations. The Church knew. The fishermen knew. The fish, presumably, did not mind. Bishop Wilson composed a formal prayer for the use of fishermen, printed in Manx by Bishop Hildesley. Train records it. A formal ecclesiastical composition, separate from folk tradition, issued by a bishop who understood that the sea demanded its own forms of address. Between the bishop's prayer, the saint's blessing, and the god's song, the Manx fisherman had every authority covered.

The herring fishery was the lifeblood of the coastal parishes. The season brought its own customs and superstitions: boats were blessed before launching, certain words were never spoken at sea, and the first herring of the season was treated with ritual significance. The fishing communities at Peel, Port St Mary, and Port Erin lived by the herring, and the decline of the fishery after the Revestment was one of the economic catastrophes that drove emigration. The customs survived as long as the fishery did, and some persisted in memory long after the last herring boats were hauled up.

The flag of the Isle of Man — the three legs armoured and spurred on a red field — has no recorded moment of formal adoption. At some point in the early twentieth century, a decision was taken to fly it outside government buildings in place of the Union Flag that had been raised over Castle Rushen when the Revestment took effect on 11 July 1765. No debate appears in the Tynwald or House of Keys Hansard. No specification of the design was written down, and no direction for the legs was ever stated. For the next quarter of a century, both clockwise and anticlockwise versions continued in general use. The first formal adoption of the current version — feet to the viewer’s left, running against the sun — came in 1958, when the Manx Post Office used it on the Island’s first local postage stamps. It was not a proclamation. It was a postage stamp. On 19 July 1968, Government Secretary G. J. Bryan issued Government Circular No. 41/68, “Regulations for the Flying of Flags on Government Flagstaffs.” The circular specified when and where the flag should be flown, listed the colours, and described the design as “the Three Legs armoured and spurred, in the centre of a red field.” It said nothing about which direction the legs should face. Instead, it noted that “a reproduction of the agreed and authorised emblem of the Three Legs may be seen or obtained at Government Office.” The symbol that appears on every official document, that flies from flagpoles around the Island, was never the subject of a parliamentary vote, a public consultation, or even a clearly documented executive decision. Its direction was standardised by a postage stamp and its regulations by a memo.

The oldest recorded rent on the Island. Bundles of coarse meadow grass carried to the summit of South Barrule each midsummer and offered to Manannán mac Lir, the god of the sea. The practice predates Christianity. The Traditionary Ballad records the destinations: some rushes went "up to the great mountain above Barrool" — South Barrule — and some to "Mannanan above Keamool" — Cronk y Voddy, Manannán’s Chair. Sacheverell, writing in the 1690s, could find record of only one tax Manannán had ever levied: "a quantity of rushes, which were brought him on Midsummer day." The Supposed True Chronicle confirms it: "he never had any form of the comons; but each one to bring a certain quantity of green rushes on Midsummer Eve." A god whose rent was grass. A legislator whose tax was something you could pull from a ditch. Culture Vannin confirms the tradition survived into the modern era: "Even up until a couple of hundred years ago, rushes gathered at the bottom of the hill were brought to the summit in tribute, usually on Midsummer’s Eve." Some Manx people still make the gesture today. And Sophia Morrison draws the line that matters: Manannán received the yearly rent of green sedge at the Festival of the Sun on Midsummer Eve, and as the people sat on the slopes of his mountain they would weave mats for his palace, for they were clever plaiters of rush. "And that is why to this day rushes are strewn on the path to Tynwald Hill on Midsummer Day." A farm adjoining the Tynwald grounds held its tenure tithe-free on the condition of providing rushes for the Tynwald ceremony. The rushes laid along the procession way connect the constitutional ceremony to a pre-Christian offering. The oldest parliament in continuous existence, and its annual ceremony still carries a trace of a tribute to a pagan god. Nobody planned that. It survived because it mattered.

The triskelion — three armoured legs joined at the thigh and spurred at the heel — is the national symbol of the Isle of Man. Its earliest known appearance on the Island is on Cross 92 at Onchan, dated to the ninth century, where it takes the form of a fylfot, a three-legged variant of the rotating symbols common in Norse and Celtic art. Llewellyn Jewitt documented this carving in 1885, connecting it to a wider tradition found across northern Europe. The symbol entered formal heraldry around 1280, appearing on the Roll of Arms attributed to the period of Alexander III of Scotland’s rule over Mann. Dr John Newton traced its origins from Greek coins through Sicily, where the three legs represented the island’s three headlands, to its adoption as the arms of Mann. The Sicilian connection is not coincidental: the triskelion appears on Sicilian coinage from the third century BC, and the route by which it reached Mann likely followed Mediterranean-to-Atlantic cultural networks. The direction of the legs has never been formally settled. The medieval Roll of Arms, most stone carvings, and the Laxey Wheel’s stone plinth all show them running clockwise. The modern flag has them running anticlockwise. No record of a decision to reverse the direction has been found. The 1958 Manx postage stamps adopted the leftward version, and Government Circular No. 41/68 (1968) described “the Three Legs armoured and spurred, in the centre of a red field” without specifying direction. The symbol is inseparable from Manannán mac Lir in Manx tradition. O’Donovan recorded that Manannán “rolled on three legs like a wheel through the mist.” Morrison tells how Saint Patrick drove Manannán and his men from the Island “in the form of three-legged creatures” which “whirled round and round like wheels before the swift wind.” Whether the symbol came from the god, or both from something older, the Manx people who carved three legs on their crosses and their coins knew the story.

The Wishing Stones at the Dhoon are two smooth slate slabs, approximately ten feet high and standing eighteen inches apart, on the broogh above Dhoon Bay in the parish of Maughold. Known in Manx as Meir ny Foawyr ("Fingers of the Giant"), the custom is to stand squeezed between them facing seaward, with a palm placed flat against each stone, and wish.

The open-air parliamentary ceremony held at Tynwald Hill on 5 July (originally 24 June, Midsummer Day, shifted when the Gregorian Calendar was adopted in 1753). Laws are proclaimed from the hill in Manx and English. The Deemsters fence the court and declare that no one shall quarrel or make disturbance. Rushes are laid along the procession way from the chapel to the hill. The ceremony is not a museum piece. It is a working constitutional act, the formal proclamation of legislation on a hill where legislation has been proclaimed since before the Norman Conquest. The forms survived because the forms are the substance. There is no Tynwald ceremony separate from Tynwald itself.