Tag: Annwn

Annwn and the Dead – The Mysteries of Rebirth

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Introduction – How is a soul reborn?

In my last article I put forward an argument that Annwn is primarily a land of the living through which the souls of the dead pass to be reborn.

The notion that the soul does not stay in the spirit world for good but takes a new form bears similarities to the Dharmic religions (Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism). Scholars and modern druid orders have noted the similarities between the doctrine of reincarnation and ancient British beliefs about the soul being immortal and passing into a new body after death along with other parallels such as the likeness between the Brahmins and Druids. (1)

References to reincarnation are found in the Rig Veda and Upanishads and the Bardo Thodol (The Tibetan Book of the Dead) lays out a detailed picture of the processes the soul undergoes upon death and by which it is reborn. 

In the Brythonic tradition we find hints about the mysteries of rebirth in medieval Welsh literature and in this article to these I will turn.

  1. The Transformations of Taliesin

The most famous and most cited source for evidence of ancient British and druidic beliefs about reincarnation is the poetry of Taliesin. This historical and legendary bard is central to the bardic tradition and to modern druidry.

Taliesin speaks of his transformations in several poems. In the opening lines of ‘The Battle of the Trees’ he tells us ‘I was in a multitude of forms / before I was unfettered’. This might be a reference to being trapped in the cycle of reincarnation before his liberation as an inspired bard.

Taliesin lists his forms which include elemental qualities, a bird, a tree, and a number of man-made artefacts:

‘I was a slender mottled sword
made from the hand.
I was a droplet in the air,
I was the stellar radiance of the stars.
I was a word in writing,
I was a book in my prime.
I was the light of a lantern
for a year and a half.
I was a bridge standing
over sixty estuaries.
I was a path, I was an eagle,
I was a coracle on the seas.
I was effervescence in drink,
I was a raindrop in a shower,
I was a sword in the hand,
I was a shield in battle.
I was a string in a harp
under enchantment for nine years,
(and) foam in water.
I was a tinder-spark in a fire,
I was a tree in a conflagration.’ (2)

In ‘The Hostile Confederacy’ Taliesin lists animal transformations:

‘I was a blue salmon, 
I was a dog, I was a stag,
I was a roebuck on the mountain’. (3)

Followed by tools:

‘I was a block, I was a spade,
I was an axe in the hand,
I was an auger (held) in tongs,
for a year and a half.’ (4)

Then lusty male animals:

‘I was a speckled white cockerel
covering the hens in Eidyn;
I was a stallion at stud,
I was a fiery bull.’ (5)

He then tells his story as a grain:

‘I was a stook in the mills,
the ground meal of farmers;
I was a grain…
it grew on a hill;
I’m reaped, I’m planted,
I’m dispatched to the kiln,
I’m loosed from the hand
in order to be roasted.
A hen got hold of me – 
a red clawed one, a crested enemy;
I spent nine nights residing in her womb.
I was matured, 
I was drink set before a ruler,
I was dead, I was alive,
a stick went into me;
I was on the lees,
separated from it I was whole…
I’m Taliesin.’ (6)

One might read this simply as an account of the bard’s protoplasmic ability to shift through multiple forms in Thisworld if we didn’t find the lines, ‘I was dead, I was alive’. Implicit is the idea each form is a separate incarnation.

Taliesin’s account of his rebirth from the womb of a crested red-clawed hen into his bardic incarnation provides a link to The Story of Taliesin.

2. The Cauldron of Ceridwen

In The Story of Taliesin we meet Ceridwen, who is ‘learned in the three crafts, which are known as magic, witchcraft and divination’. Ceridwen has a son called Afagddu who is ‘terribly ugly’ and because of his ‘wretchedness’ she sets out to brew a potion in her cauldron ‘to make him in possession of the Prophetic Spirit and a great storyteller of the world to come’. (7)

To stir her cauldron for a year and a day she recruits a young man called Gwion Bach. When the time arrives for Afagddu to receive the three magical drops Gwion pushes him out of the way, receives them, and is ‘filled with knowledge’. Ceridwen is furious. Thereon follows a shapeshifting chase. Gwion takes the form of a hare and Ceridwen a black greyhound bitch, Gwion a salmon and Ceridwen an otter, Gwion a bird and Ceridwen a hawk. Finally, he takes the form of a grain of wheat and she a crested black hen and she swallows him. He gestates in her womb for nine months. When he’s born she casts him out to sea in ‘a coracle, or skin belly’. (8) He is found in the salmon weir of Gwyddno Garanhir by Gwyddno’s son, Elffin, who, on opening the skin, declares, “Behold the radiant brow!” Thus he is named Taliesin. (9)

The parallels between the poem and story are clear. Each portrays the soul shifting through a series of forms before it is reborn from the womb of Ceridwen, as a crested black hen, ‘whole’ in its bardic incarnation.

In medieval Welsh literature Ceridwen is associated with the pair awen ‘cauldron of inspiration’ and invoked by the bards as a muse (10). Her presence at the Court of Don as a ‘knowledgeable one’ (11) suggests, like Don and Her children, She is an important Brythonic Goddess.

Kristoffer Hughes notes ‘in the Welsh language the word “crochen” meaning cauldron shares the same prefix “cro” as the word “croth” meaning womb’ (12) suggesting Ceridwen’s cauldron and womb are one. Her magical vessel is the source of initiation, inspiration, transformation and rebirth. (13) 

Gwilym Morus-Baird hypothesises this story might be rooted in interactions between the bardic tradition and the visionary tradition of the witches. (14) Taliesin steals his awen from a ‘witch’ who knows its secrets and can be seen continuing his thieving ways in his raid with Arthur on Annwn.

3. The Cauldron of the Head of Annwn

In the midst of Annwn, in the midst of Caer Vedwit ‘The Mead Feast Fort’, lies ‘the Cauldron of the Head of Annwn’. The most likely candidate for this title is Gwyn ap Nudd as He speaks of witnessing a battle at one of the forts raided, Caer Vandwy ‘The Fort of God’s Peak’, in His conversation with Gwyddno. 

This cauldron is kindled by ‘the breath of nine maidens’ (15) who might be named as Morgana and Her sisters. (16) It has ‘a dark trim and pearls’ and its ‘disposition’ is such that ‘it does not boil a coward’s food’. (17) 

It appears again in association with the Head of Annwn’s cauldron keeper, Dyrnwch the Giant, in ‘The Thirteen Treasures of the Island of Britain’. ‘The Cauldron of Dyrnwch the Giant: if meat for a coward were put in it to boil, it would never boil; but if meat for a brave man were put in it, it would boil quickly (and thus the brave could be distinguished from the cowardly’. (18)

It is clear this cauldron serves an initiatory function distinguishing the brave and the cowardly and this might be linked to the tradition of the hero’s portion wherein the bravest hero gets the choicest cut of meat.

On a deeper level this ‘food’ or ‘meat’ is awen and this might be understood both in the sense of one’s inspiration and one’s destiny. Only the bravest win the best awen, the best fates, from the Cauldron of the Head of Annwn.

An image on the Gundestrup Cauldron may represent Gwyn, a hound at His side, plunging a line of warriors headfirst into a cauldron to be reborn. They emerge on otherworldly steeds with horns and animals on their helms. Perhaps this shows the transformation of the bravest of the battle-dead riding on to new lives, new destinies, symbolised by the features on their headgear, or that they have been gifted with immortality as riders on Gwyn’s Hunt.

Rather than facing their testing by Annwn’s ruler and the nine maidens, Arthur and his men steal the cauldron and bear it back to the Thisworld.

4. The Cauldron of Rebirth

Taliesin’s theft of the awen from Ceridwen’s cauldron results in the poisoning Gwyddno’s land and an episode from the Second Branch of The Mabinogion suggests the consequences of stealing the cauldron from Annwn will be just as disastrous.

‘The Cauldron of Rebirth’ is brought to Bendigeidfran by a ‘huge monstrous man’ ‘with yellow-red hair’ from the Lake of the Cauldron. (19) It has ‘the property’ ‘that if you throw into it one of your men who is killed today, then by tomorrow he will be good as ever except that he will not be able to speak’. (20)

Bendigeidfran gives the cauldron to the King of Ireland who uses it against him in war. ‘The Irish began to kindle a fire under the Cauldron of Rebirth. Then they threw the corpses into the cauldron until it was full, and they would get up the next morning fighting as well as before except that they could not talk’. (21)

This cauldron, brought from the depths of a lake, may be the Cauldron of the Head of Annwn. In Thisworld the magic by which it brings the dead to life does not function fully, bringing them back in their old forms, deprived of speech.

What Arthur and Taliesin do with the cauldron, if they can use it all, outside the presence of its custodians – Ceridwen, Gwyn, the nine maidens, is unknown.

5. The Unfettering of Taliesin

In ‘The Battle of the Trees’ Taliesin claims he has been ‘unfettered’ suggesting that, by his theft of the awen, he has freed himself from the cycle of reincarnation and attained a state akin to moksha ‘liberation’.

This is evidenced by his claim that his ‘native abode / is the land of the Cherubim’ and his boasts of visiting the Court of Don and the fortresses of Gwydion and Arianrhod (22) as well as singing in Caer Siddi ‘The Fairy Fort’. (23)

He might be seen to share a kinship with the ‘ascended masters’ of the Dharmic religions explaining why he remains such a presence as a ‘legendary master’ (24) of the bardic tradition who is still channelled today by bards.

Yet, his state is not well won, but a stolen one. One wonders whether Gwyn and his huntsman will one day catch him and throw him back in the cauldron.

This, along with the image on the Gundestrup Cauldron of warriors potentially becoming riders on Gwyn’s hunt suggests that whereas some of the dead passed quickly through Annwn and into the cauldron to reborn others joined the living for far longer or even achieved immortality.

6. Those Who Return to Utter Darkness

In the reading presented so far it seems only the prestigious – warriors and bards – attain liberation from the cycle of reincarnation and join the immortals. 

This raises a number of questions. Firstly, what happens to those who do not taste the awen, who do not die bravely, who like Afagddu remain in ‘utter darkness’? (25)

Parallels with the Dharmic religions suggest they might shift back into animal, plant, mineral, object and elemental forms or descend to lower levels of Annwn where monsters reside and furious spirits are held in check. (26)

This raises further questions about the hierarchical and anthropocentric viewpoints inherent in the Dharmic religions which are less evident in our texts. Is reading Taliesin’s transformations as an ‘ascent’ from a being of ‘seven consistencies’: fire, earth, water, air, mist, flowers and ‘the fruitful wind (27) through a ‘multitude of forms’ to an ‘unfettered’ bard the only way?

Might unfettering not also be seen, contarily, as a joyful return to plant and animal forms, to the elements, to the utter darkness of the womb of Ceridwen, to the vastness of cauldron, that precedes creation?

Conclusion – The Custodians of the Mysteries

In this article I have pieced together a picture of how souls are reborn based on the likenesses between the transformations of Taliesin and the cycle of reincarnation in the Dharmic religions and the material surrounding the cauldron.

It appears that souls takes a number of forms, passing to Annwn, being reborn from the Cauldron of Rebirth, until by some brave deed or inspired work (or act of theft) they win a longer time amongst the living or are granted immortality.

Those of us who wish to engage with these mysteries have the choice of whether to approach the cauldron and its custodians with respect or to continue the thieving and plundering traditions of Arthur and Taliesin.

REFERENCES

  1. The One Tree Gathering organised by OBOD ‘explores and celebrates the idea that Indian and European cultures share a common origin’ https://druidry.org/get-involved/the-one-tree-project
  2. Haycock, M. (transl), Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, (CMCS, 2007), p174, l1 – 24
  3. Ibid. p121, l229 – 233
  4. Ibid. p121 – 122, l234 – 236
  5. Ibid. p122, l237 – 240
  6. Ibid. p122 – 123, l241 – 263
  7. Hughes, K. From the Cauldron Born, (Llewellyn Publications, 2013), p32
  8. Ibid. p34
  9. Ibid. p37
  10. Haycock, M. (transl), Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, (CMCS, 2007), p313
  11. Ibid. p317, l26
  12. Hughes, K. 13th Mt Haemus Lecture: Magical Transformation in the Book of Talieisn and The Spoils of Annwn, (OBOD, 2019), p24
  13. Hughes notes that the cauldron has ‘three symbolic functions’ – ‘a vessel of inspiration’, ‘a transformative device’ and ‘a vessel of testing’. Ibid. p24
  14. Morus-Baird, G. Taliesin Origins, (Celtic Source, 2023), p147 – 154
  15. Haycock, M. (transl), Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, (CMCS, 2007), p 435, l13
  16. Geoffrey of Monmouth speaks of ‘nine sisters’ who rule ‘the island of apples’, or the Island of Avalon, an Annuvian location Gwyn is associated with. Morgen possesses the skills of healing, shapeshifting and flying. Monmouth, G. The Life of Merlin, (Forgotten Books, 2008), p27
  17. Haycock, M. (transl), Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, (CMCS, 2007), p 435 – 6, l16 – 17
  18. Bromwich, R. The Triads of the Island of Britain, (University of Wales Press, 2014),p259
  19. Davies, S. (transl.), The Mabinogion, (Oxford University Press, 2007), p26
  20. Ibid. p25
  21. Ibid. p33
  22. Parker, W. (transl), The Mabinogion, (University of California Press, 2008), p173
  23. Haycock, M. (transl), Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, (CMCS, 2007), p277, l45
  24. A term used to describe Taliesin by Gwilym Morus-Baird. Morus-Baird, G. Taliesin Origins, (Celtic Source, 2023), p269
  25. Afagddu means ‘Utter Darkness’. Hughes, K. From the Cauldron Born, (Llewellyn Publications), p32
  26. Evidence for monsters of Annwn can be found in ‘The Battle of Trees’ where Taliesin speaks of ‘piercing’ ‘a great-scaled beast’, ‘a black forked toad’ and ‘a speckled crested snake’. Haycock, M. (transl), Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, (CMCS, 2007), p175, l30 – 37. Gwyn is said to hold back the fury of the ‘devils of Annwn’ to prevent them from destroying the world. Davies, S. (transl.), The Mabinogion, (Oxford University Press, 2007), p199
  27. Haycock, M. (transl), Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, (CMCS, 2007), p517

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Davies, S. (transl.), The Mabinogion, (Oxford University Press, 2007
Haycock, M. (transl), Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, (CMCS, 2007)
Hughes, K. From the Cauldron Born, (Llewellyn Publications, 2013)
Hughes, K. 13th Mt Haemus Lecture: Magical Transformation in the Book of Talieisn and The Spoils of Annwn, (OBOD, 2019)
Monmouth, G. The Life of Merlin, (Forgotten Books, 2008),
Morus-Baird, G. Taliesin Origins, (Celtic Source, 2023)
Parker, W. (transl), The Mabinogion, (University of California Press, 2008)

Annwn – A Land of the Living or the Dead?

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Introduction – Annwn ‘Very Deep’

Over the last couple of centuries there has been a good deal of scholarly debate about whether Annwn is a land of the dead or whether, instead, it is a land of the living. Annw(f)n, from the suffix an ‘Very’ and dwfn ‘Deep’ (1), features in medieval Welsh literature and is generally understood to be the Brythonic Otherworld and later became known as Faery.

In this article I will introduce the evidence for and against the presence of the dead in Annwn in the source texts and the arguments of scholars past and present. Then, on the basis of this inquiry, I will present my conclusion.

1. The Fairest Men

In the First Branch of The Mabinogion, in which Pwyll prince of Dyfed takes the place of Arawn, a King of Annwn, for a year, there is no evidence that Annwn is a land of the dead. The people of Annwn are very much alive. They, their land, dwellings and accoutrements are far brighter and more beautiful than anything seen in Thisworld and they appear to live a life of endless pleasure.

‘He could see… the fairest and best-equipped men that anyone had seen, and the queen with them, the most beautiful woman that anyone had ever seen, wearing a golden garment of brocaded silk… They spent the time eating and drinking, singing and carousing. Of all the courts he had seen on earth, that was the court with the most food and drink and golden vessels and royal jewels.’ (2)

We find a very similar depiction of the fortress of Gwyn ap Nudd, another King of Annwn (3), in The Life of St Collen.

‘And when he (Collen) came there, he saw the fairest castle he had ever beheld, and around it the best appointed troops, and numbers of minstrels, and every kind of music of voice and string, and steeds with youths upon them the comeliest in the world, and maidens of elegant aspect, sprightly, light of foot, of graceful apparel, and in the bloom of youth and every magnificence becoming the court of a puissant sovereign. And he beheld a courteous man on the top of the castle, who bade him enter, saying that the king was waiting for him to come to meat. And Collen went into the castle, and when he came there, the king was sitting in a golden chair. And he welcomed Collen honourably and desired him to eat, assuring him that, besides what he saw, he should have the most luxurious of every dainty and delicacy that the mind could desire, and should be supplied with every drink and liquor that his heart could wish; and that there should be in readiness for him every luxury of courtesy and service, of banquet and of honourable entertainment, of rank and of presents: and every respect and welcome due to a man of his wisdom.’ (4)

However, it is hinted at that the fairness of these men and their ruler and the banquet they offer is illusory and behind them lies a more sinister reality. Collen refuses to eat the food calling it ‘the leaves of trees’. He disdains the ‘equipment’ of the men saying ‘red… signifies burning’ and ‘blue… signifies cold.’ (5) The implication is that the beauty of the banquet is an illusion cast by fairy magic and that these people are hellish and might even number the dead.

The paradisal view of Annwn is echoed in the poetry of Taliesin. In ‘The Spoils of Annwn’ he speaks of seven fortresses raided by Arthur. One is called Caer Vedwit ‘The Mead Feast Fort’ and in its centre lies the cauldron of the Head of Annwn. In Caer Rigor ‘The Petrification Fort’ ‘sparkling wine’ is set in front of a batallion. A youth named Gweir sings in chains in front of the glittering spoils in Caer Siddi ‘The Fairy Fort’. (6)

In ‘The Chair of Taliesin’ Caer Siddi is described more fully:

‘Harmonious is my song in Caer Siddi;
Sickness and age do not afflict those who are there…
Three instruments/organs around a fire play in front of it
and around its turrets are the well springs of the sea;
and (as for) the fruitful fountain which is above it – 
Its drink is sweeter than the white wine.’ (7)

However ‘The Spoils of Annwn’ is shot through with images of restriction and violence. Gweir in his ‘heavy grey chain’ (8) and the Brindled Ox ‘with his stout collar, / and seven-score links in his chain’. (9) The six thousand unspeaking men and the uncommunicative watchman guarding the glass walls. The lightning thrust of Lleog’s ‘flashing sword’ into the cauldron and its theft by Lleminog’s hand. The refrain, ‘save seven none returned from the … fort.’ (10)

In ‘The Conversation of Gwyn ap Nudd and Gwyddno Garanhir’, Gwyn speaks of His ‘sorrow’ at seeing battle at one of the seven fortresses, Caer Vanddwy. ‘I saw a host / Shields shattered, spears broken, / violence inflicted by the honoured and fair.’ (11) Here Gwyn, who I believe to be the Head of Annwn, laments that his fair people were forced to inflict violence on Arthur and his men, because of their raiding behaviour killing three shiploads. ‘Three full loads of Prydwen we went into it: save seven none came back.’ (12) This shows death can take place in Annwn. 

No mention is made of whether there are casualties on the side of the Head of Annwn and His people. A parallel tale in Culhwch ac Olwen suggests the cauldron-keeper and retinue are killed (13) and, possibly, the king himself. Yet, like another Annuvian figure, the Green Knight, He doesn’t stay dead long. His fair men, unaging, unsickening, may likewise be immortals.

2. Such the Fairies Seize and Keep

A source showing more explicitly that the dead can be found in Annwn / Faery is the medieval Breton lay Sir Orfeo. This retelling of the Greek story of the descent of Orpheus (Orfeo) to Hades (Annwn / Faery) to recover Eurydice (Heurodis) is set in Winchester (which may be named after Vindos / Gwyn). 

Here the dead are found by Orfeo in the castle of the Fairy King:

Some headless stood upon the ground,
Some had no arms, and some were torn
With dreadful wounds, and some lay bound
Fast to the earth in hap forlorn.

And some full-armed on horses sat,
And some were strangled as at meat,
And some were drowned as in a vat,
And some were burned with fiery heat, 
Wives lay in child-bed, maidens sweet…

… such the fairies seize and keep.’ (14)

It is notable these people died untimely deaths. Implicitly, when Heurodis was bitten by the snake, she died and the Fairy King and Queen restore her to life.

Additionally, in Breton culture, the dead are said to go to Annwn. (15) In later folklore there are numerous tales of fairies taking the living and dead to their realm.

3. Gwyn ap Nudd – Gatherer of Souls

In ‘The Conversation of Gwyn ap Nudd and Gwyddno Garanhir’ Gwyn is represented as a ‘bull of battle’, a divine warrior and huntsman, who appears to gather the soul of Gwyddno, who implicitly is dead, back to Annwn. In this poem Gwyn speaks of attending the deaths of a number of famous warriors. This is followed by a lament which shows His immortal nature:

‘I was there when the warriors of Britain were slain
From the east to the north; 
I live on; they are in the grave.

I was there when the warriors of Britain were slain
From the east to the south;
I live on; they are dead.’ (16)

In Culhwch ac Olwen we learn ‘God’ has put the aryal ‘fury’ of ‘the demons of Annwfn’ in Gwyn and ‘he will not be spared from there’ ‘lest the world be destroyed’. (17) Reading beneath the Christian overlay we find the suggestion that part of Gwyn’s role as a King of Annwn is to contain a host of dangerous spirits, who may number the dead, to prevent Thisworld’s destruction.

We are told ‘Twrch Trwyth will not be hunted until Gwyn ap Nudd is found.’ (18). ‘Twrch Trwyth’ ‘Chief of Boars’ is presented as a human king changed into a boar ‘for his sins’ ‘by God’. (19) Again, reading beneath, we see the twrch is a human soul in animal form. He cannot be hunted until Gwyn is found as Gwyn is the leader of the hunt for souls – the Wild Hunt.

In later folklore Gwyn is depicted riding out with the Hounds of Annwn on Nos Galan Gaeaf, again leading the Wild Hunt, (20) and as a demonic figure with a black face and horns hunting the soul of a sinner on Cefn Creini. (21)

Put together with the evidence in Sir Orfeo this suggests Gwyn hunts and gathers the souls of dead (in particular the battle-dead and those who died traumatically) and takes them to his fortress in Annwn. His people, the spirits of Annwn / fairies also play a role in the passage of the souls of the dead.

Thus, so far, we have a picture of Annwn as primarily a land of the living to which the dead (and occasionally the living) are taken by Gwyn and His fair men.

4. A Final Destination?

I shall pause here to consider some scholarly opinions. John Rhys clearly views Annwn as a land of the dead for he equates it with Hades, the Greek underworld, where souls stayed forever in a shadowy afterlife. Rhys speaks of another otherworldly fortress, Caer Arianrhod, as a ‘Court of Death’ (22) and of Gwyn and His ‘hell-hounds’ hunting ‘disembodied souls’. (23)

Contrastingly, Roger Sherman Loomis (here cited in a lecture by Kristoffer Hughes) claims Annwn ‘is the realm of the ever-living ones, the immortals, or the abode of the Celtic Gods.’ It lacks mortal inhabitants and those who venture there do not undergo death and usually return unharmed. (24) 

Recent scholars take a more nuanced view. Angelika Rudiger argues for the Welsh belief: ‘the realm of the fairies was not generally a realm of the dead but reserved for a special kind of deceased… a kind of liminal space where those souls can linger whose moral life has prematurely ended, but who are not yet “ripe” to be accepted into heaven or hell’ resembling the ‘Catholic limbo’. (25) She cautions against ‘reducing Annwn… to a land of the dead’ or ‘fairies to the spirits of the dead’ and concludes ‘Annwn is a liminal world, though not an abode set aside exclusively for the departed’ (26).

Considering whether Annwn is ‘a type of land of the dead’ Gwilym Morus-Baird cites Dafydd Epynt who describes ‘how in death the poet “casts aside his spear and the four elements”’. Morus-Baird compares this to Taliesin’s creation from ‘seven substances’ (the traditional four elements air, fire, earth and water along with mist, flowers and wind) and says ‘the common idea in all these poems is that the four elements are the foundations of physical existence, and therefore don’t belong in Annwn’. (27)

Annwn is, instead, a place where spirits reside. These include the spirits of dead bards such as Taliesin and Merlin. Both of these famous bards have been through the process of death and rebirth many times. Thus Morus-Baird concludes that Annwn ‘is not a final destination for one’s death, but a place the soul passes through on the way to further incarnations’. (28)

Morus-Baird’s view fits with the evidence from Roman writers on the beliefs of the ancient Celts. For example Julius Caesar says they believe ‘the soul does not die but crosses over after death from one place to another’ (29) and Diodorus Siculus that they ‘subscribe to the doctrine of Pythagoras that the human spirit is immortal and will enter a new body after a fixed number of years’. (30)

Conclusion – A Joyful Union

Following on from these arguments I am led to conclude that Annwn is primarily a land of the living in which the spirits of the dead reside for a period of time before being reborn. Rather than being a final destination, like Hades, or a limbo-land like Purgatory, it is a living realm where spirits are joyfully united with other immortals (such as Gwyn and His people) and reminded of their immortality before moving on into another form. These spirits, dead to us in Thisworld, in the Otherworld are very much alive. Only in rebirth, when they put back on the four elements, do they become mortal again.

*

This is the first in a series of articles exploring the existing lore about Annwn, Gwyn ap Nudd and the spirits of Annwn, and the dead. I’m planning to write more about my personal experiences of journeying to Annwn and how they relate to the source material and more widely on spiritwork in the Brythonic tradition.

I stopped writing such articles for a while because I got down-hearted by the fact that others, such as Gwilym Morus-Baird, Greg Hill, Kristoffer Hughes and Kris Hughes, do it a lot better (some more engagingly on video) and also because I was exploring Annwn more experientially and creatively. I’ve recently been given a kick by my Gods to bring the academic and the experiential together. And been told I have a unique perspective to share as a devotee of Gwyn guided by Orddu and her ancestors in the traditions of the Old North.

You can support my work by joining my Patreon HERE.

REFERENCES

  1. There are a number of translations of Annwn and this one is from Kristoffer Hughes. Hughes, K. 13th Mt Haemus Lecture: Magical Transformation in the Book of Talieisn and The Spoils of Annwn, (OBOD, 2019), p10. Gwilym Morus-Baird notes: an ‘is often read as the preposition “in”, or in this context “inside or inner”, dwfn is a noun that has a few meanings in Middle Welsh: “world” or “sea”; but also as in Middle Welsh “deep” and “profound.” Altogether, Annwfn can be read as meaning “inner world” or “inner depth with connotations of profundity’. Morus-Baird, G. Taliesin Origins, (Celtic Source, 2023), p220-21
  2. Davies, S. (transl.), The Mabinogion, (Oxford University Press, 2007), p5
  3. Some argue that Gwyn ap Nudd, ‘White son of Mist’, and Arawn (meaning unknown) are titles of the same deity who is the ruler of Annwn.
  4. Guest, C. (transl), The Mabinogion, (1838)
  5. Ibid.
  6. Haycock, M. (transl), Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, (CMCS, 2007), p435 – 437
  7. Ibid. p277, l45 – 52
  8. Ibid. p435, l6
  9. Ibid. p437, l39 – 40
  10. (10) Ibid. p436, l18 -19
  11. (11) Hill, G. (transl), ‘The Conversation between Gwyn ap Nudd and Gwyddno Garanhir’, Awen ac Awenydd, l30 – 33
  12. The lines cited here refer to Caer Siddi but the number of men on the ship and the refrain hold for all the fortresses. Haycock, M. (transl), Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, (CMCS, 2007), p435, l9 – 10
  13. ‘Bedwyr got up and took hold of the cauldron… Llenlleog grabbed Caledfwlch and swung it round and killed Diwrnarch Wyddel and all his retinue.’ Davies, S. (transl.), The Mabinogion, (Oxford University Press, 2007), p208
  14. Hunt, E. E. (transl), Sir Orfeo, (Forgotten Books, 2012), p21
  15. Morus-Baird, G. Taliesin Origins, (Celtic Source, 2023), p261
  16. Hill, G. (transl), ‘The Conversation between Gwyn ap Nudd and Gwyddno Garanhir’, Awen ac Awenydd
  17. Davies, S. (transl.), The Mabinogion, (Oxford University Press, 2007), p199
  18. Ibid. 199
  19. Ibid. 209
  20. Rhys, J. Celtic Folklore, Welsh and Manx, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1901), p203
  21. Ibid. p216
  22. Rhys, J. Studies in the Arthurian Legend, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1891), p157
  23. Ibid. p 342
  24. Hughes, K. 13th Mt Haemus Lecture: Magical Transformation in the Book of Talieisn and The Spoils of Annwn, (OBOD, 2019), p11
  25. Rudiger, A. ‘Y Tylwyth Teg. An Analysis of a Literary Motif,’ (Bangor University, 2021), p75
  26. Ibid. p78 – 79
  27. Morus-Baird, G. Taliesin Origins, (Celtic Source, 2023), p258
  28. Ibid. p261
  29. Koch, J. The Celtic Heroic Age, (Celtic Studies Publications, 2003), p22
  30. Ibid. p12

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Davies, S. (transl.), The Mabinogion, (Oxford University Press, 2007
Guest, C. (transl), The Mabinogion, (1838)
Haycock, M. (transl), Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, (CMCS, 2007)
Hill, G. (transl), ‘The Conversation between Gwyn ap Nudd and Gwyddno Garanhir’, Awen ac Awenydd
Hughes, K. 13th Mt Haemus Lecture: Magical Transformation in the Book of Talieisn and The Spoils of Annwn, (OBOD, 2019)
Koch, J. The Celtic Heroic Age, (Celtic Studies Publications, 2003)
Morus-Baird, G. Taliesin Origins, (Celtic Source, 2023)
Rhys, J. Studies in the Arthurian Legend, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1891)
Rhys, J. Celtic Folklore, Welsh and Manx, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1901)
Rudiger, A. ‘Y Tylwyth Teg. An Analysis of a Literary Motif,’ (Bangor University, 2021)

Contemplating the Abyss Part Two – Writing whilst Falling

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I write when I fall. It’s a defence mechanism. Like putting out a hand to catch myself. 

I write because writing has saved me and I believe my writing might help others.

But putting out a hand doesn’t always work when one is falling into the Abyss…

*

I cried out to the philosophers, “Philosophers save me!”

When I was 21 and in the second year of my philosophy degree I sat on the edge of the Abyss at the nadir of a quasi-initiatory period during which I’d been foolishly been mixing phenomenology (1) with copious amounts of drugs and alcohol, some unknown part of me striving, reaching for… what?

My ‘friends’ had deserted me because I’d ‘gone west’ and I was sitting on the boot of a car, at the end of the world, staring into the Abyss, feeling I couldn’t go on living but not really, truly, wanting to die either. I couldn’t choose.

I was presented with three gateways but didn’t have the courage to take any.

I moved into the front seat of the car and, as dawn arrived, pinking the front  windows of my friend’s house, with it came three alienesque beings who I now understand in the Brythonic tradition to be ellyllon ‘elves’. They took me into the heavens in what I saw at the time as an alien aduction experience and performed an intricate operation on my brain with silver instruments. 

After that I decided to give up drugs entirely and apply myself to my studies. Not easy. There were after effects. Anxiety. Panic attacks. I ended up on medication but also got subscribed what I really needed – exercise. These things helped me to get my head straight enough to write myself out of the Abyss. 

My philosophy studies gave me the tools I needed. I saw my inability to choose life or death as akin to Kant’s antimonies (2) which stem from the use of reason to comprehend sensible phenomena beyond its application. I wrote my dissertation on the concept of the sublime in Burke, Kant, and Lyotard, focusing on how experiences of the sublime depose the rational mind (3).

This helped me to understand the breakdown of my rational faculties but not the visions I encountered as the flip side. It was only when I was studying for my MA in European Philosophy and writing my dissertation on Nietzche’s The Birth of Tragedy I found the clues. Dionysian ecstasy gives way to Apollonian visions. But I wasn’t seeing Dionysus or satyrs. I realised, like Greece, Britain, must have its Gods and spirits, finally met my patron God, Gwyn ap Nudd, a King of Annwn, realised my visions had been of His realm.

Nietzsche, a philosopher, who also stared into the Abyss (4), saved me.

*

The medieval Welsh term Annwn stems from an ‘very’ and dwfn ‘deep’. I believe it shares similarities with the Hebrew term tehom which means ‘deep’ and was translated as abyssos, ‘abyss’, ‘bottomless depth’, in the Septugaint, the earliest Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible in 285–247 BCE.

The Mesopotamian Goddess of the primordial waters, Tiamat, has been linked to tehom. Several years ago myself and other awenyddion found a Goddess named Anrhuna who takes dragon form and is the mother of Gwyn. She plays a similar role as the personification of Annwn. In my visions She, Gwyn, and Nodens/Nudd are associated with the Abyss and its mysteries.

Gwyn was the God who taught me how to fall. He’s fallen too. And I’ve fallen with Him. I’ve crawled out of the Abyss with Him, claw by claw, word by word.

That damned book. It came first when I was falling during the first covid pandemic. I’d given up my supermarket job to volunteer my way into paid work in conservation and my volunteering had been cancelled leaving me with no paid or voluntary role. Utterly unpublishable but writing it got me through.

It came again when I realised I couldn’t cope in a career in the environmental sector. For the last year and a half I’ve worked on it full time, realised it is no good. 

That crutch has gone but I’m still putting my hand out – writing whilst falling.

*

I’m back in another antinomy – I love writing but can’t make a living from it. 

When I first met Gwyn He asked me to promise to give up my ambition to be a professional author in return for journeying with Him to Annwn. I did it for a while. I took various jobs, cleaning, packing, supermarket, wrote as service for my Gods.

But, sneakily, oh so sneakily, in the back of my mind, I never got rid of the treacherous hope that promise would only be temporary. If I worked hard well enough the veto might come off, I might be able to have my cake and eat it.

I published three books. Sold more copies than I hoped for such niche work. Even got professionally published. Not enough to make a living of course but enough to convince me I might be able to write something that did better. 

Ten years after my initial dedication to Gwyn I asked Him by divination about whether that promise still holds and got 1. The Wanderer and thought I was free of it. It’s notable here I asked through the tarot rather than asking Him directly. Consciously I did this because I feared my discernment might be off. Maybe unconsciously, I feared, knew, he’d say, ‘No’. I read the card wrong. In the traditional tarot The Wanderer is the The Fool. I was fooling myself. As I write these words I hear the laughter of my God and realise what a fool I was.

At one point I hoped In the Deep might not only sell to my small Polytheist and Pagan audience but might also appeal to fantasy readers, taking the stories of Gwyn and the other Brythonic Gods into the mainstream.

Hubris. It didn’t work. An individual can’t write myth. And I’m not that good a writer.

A difficult lesson learnt. My ambition to be a professional writer given up for good, vomited up, committed to the Abyss, I’m falling again, writing whilst falling.

I’m remembering my vision of the three gates. I can’t make a living as a writer. I don’t want to die either. I’m asking what lies beyond the third gate.

In the next part I will be writing about the ‘Abyss Mystics’ who, unlike me did not try to cling on, to write themselves out of the Abyss, were not afraid of falling.

(1) In particular using Husserl’s epoche (setting aside all assumptions of existence) as an experiential practice.
(2) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kant’s_antinomies
(3) In ‘Scapeland’ Lyotard writes of the ‘The Thing’ as sublime – ‘the mind draws itself up when it draws a landscape, but that landscape has already drawn its forces up against the mind, and that in drawing them up, it has broken and deposed the mind (as one deposes a sovereign), made it vomit itself up towards the nothingness of being-there.’
(4) In Beyond Good and Evil Nietzsche wrote, ‘Battle not with monsters lest ye become a monster; and if you gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes into you.’

Review – Taliesin Origins by Dr. Gwilym Morris-Baird

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Dr. Gwilym Morus-Baird is a native Welsh speaker and scholar. He runs the excellent Celtic Source website where he shares scholarly research and personal insights into the Celtic myths through videos and free and paid online courses. Taliesin Origins originated from an online course. 

As would be expected this book provides a superb introduction to the myth of Taliesin well grounded in the social and political history of Wales. It not only introduces material that might already be known to students of the bardic tradition such as Ystoria Taliesin (‘The Tale of Taliesin’) and the poetry from Llyfr Taliesin (The Book of Taliesin) but sets it in a context with and expounds on its themes through other bardic works that are less familiar. The author’s translations of these, as well as the Taliesin content, are valuable resources in themselves. 

Morus-Baird, who is not only a scholar, but a musician, presents the material in a way that is not only academically accurate but lively and vivid and enthused with experiential insights based on his practices as a living bard.

One of my favourite parts was where he traces the travels of the historical Taliesin north from Cynan’s court at Pengwern (Shrewsbury) to Urien’s court in Rheged*. Here we find an evocation of the revelry in the hall and the lord with ‘long, flowing white hair and beard’ ‘his body’ ‘covered with many battle scars’.

There is a good deal of speculation founded on research and personal insights. Morus-Baird presents a strong argument for the story of Gwion stealing awen from Ceridwen’s cauldron then being eaten by her and reborn as Taliesin originating from interactions between the visionary tradition of the witches and the Welsh bards. This tale is shown to play out in the prehistoric ritual landscapes around the Dyfi and Conwy estuaries where it is set. It is argued that the alternative telling of the creation of Taliesin by Gwydion from vegetation as ‘a weapon of bardic destruction’ along with the trees in Kat Godeu (‘The Battle of the Trees’) originates from a different bardic lineage.

This book also contains much philosophical depth. The concept of awen is explored from its Proto-Celtic origin in *awek ‘inspiration or insight’ through its complex of meanings in Irish and in Welsh which include awel ‘breath.

The imagination is beautifully likened to the Mare Goddess Rhiannon as ‘an insubstantial beast, a grey mare of little but breath. We may ride her to ends of the Earth, but she vanishes the minute we look at her too closely.’ Awen as is seen to ‘live’ in Annwfn and is drawn upon by the bards.

Morus-Baird states that the popular understanding of Annwfn as the otherworld isn’t the ‘most accurate’ and translates it as ‘inner world’ or ‘inner depth’, describing it as ‘a world-within-the-world, a depth that is everywhere’. Drawing on the First Branch of The Mabinogion along with the poetry of Cynddelw and Taliesin (who speaks of his seat in Caer Siddi ‘the fairy-mound Fortress’) he categorieses Annwfn as a timeless, pristine place of high ideals and dismisses the Christianised hellish view in Culhwch ac Olwen.

At the end of the section on Annfwn he summarises his argument: 

‘The main difference between Annwfn and our realm appears to be a temporal one. Whereas our plane of existence is characterised by ageing and death, ‘sickness and old age’ do not affect those in Caer Siddi. It appears to be the place of eternal renewal, where pristine life continues without the effects of time and its changes. By contrast, to partake of the mortal realm is to be swept up in the turbulent currents of transformation, to be spun in the cycles of birth and death and to know the suffering of experience.’**

Annwfn is described not as a land of dead, in the sense of a final destination for souls, but it is one where spirits such as those of Taliesin and Myrddin can reside. These ‘bardic masters’ can be channelled in live performances.

Taliesin Origins is an engaging read on an intellectual and spiritual level. I have been studying the bardic tradition for over ten years and it gave me additional food for thought and led me to question a number of assumptions. I would recommend it as the go-to source for anyone interested in the Taliesin myth whether from an academic or religious perspective or both. 

*There’s a mention of Taliesin crossing the Ribble at Preston near to my home. It hadn’t crossed my mind he would have passed so close on his travels.
**This isn’t an argument I wholly agree with. Although there are lots of examples of Annwfn being a timeless, pristine place we also have descriptions of terrible battles there which include violence and death. The prime example being in Preiddeu Annwfn from which only seven men return. Gwyn ap Nudd speaks of this conflict – ‘At Caer Fanddwy I saw a host / Shields shattered, spears broken, / Violence inflicted by the honoured and fair’. If this is to be conflated with the raid set in Ireland the Head of Annwfn himself is killed. One might claim these are so terrible because they are interruptions to the pristine state and I believe this is partly the case. Yet the presence of Annwfian monsters in Kad Godeu along with the gormes ‘oppression’caused by a dragon in Lludd a Llefelys that blights Britain and its people are suggestive of a darker side to Annwfn. It’s my personal belief that like the ‘otherworlds’ of most Indo-European cultures it has both pristine and beautiful and monstrous and terrifiying aspects (for example the Hindu and Buddhist ‘heavens’ and ‘hells’, the Norse Valhalla and Hel, the Greek Elysian Fields and Tartarus). In my personal experience of travelling Annwfn in spirit the transformative processes, including life and death, mirror our own.

Evidence of Monks of Annwn in The Book of Taliesin?

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Inbetween my decision to rewrite In the Deep and beginning I decided to return to some of the source material. I had been avoiding The Book of Taliesin for a long long time because, as a devotee of Gwyn ap Nudd, a King of Annwn, I find his support of Arthur in the raiding of Annwn (1) and of Lleu and Gwydion in battling against Annuvian monsters (2) incredibly emotive.

Still, I took another look, and didn’t find anything I hadn’t remembered. And Taliesin’s warmongering and bragging had got no less annoying.

Then, when, I was out running this morning I found my mind wandering to Taliesin mocking ‘pathetic men’ (monks) who do not know when God / the Lord, potentially Pen Annwn ‘Head of the Otherworld (3), was born / created then referring to monks who ‘congregate’ or ‘howl’ (4) like a pack of dogs’ and ‘like wolves’ ‘because of the masters who know’ the answers to certain riddles such as ‘the wind’s course’, ‘how the light and darkness divide’.

I had always assumed those monks were Christians but as I was running the question came into my mind, ‘What if they were monks of Annwn?’ 

*

My first intimation of the possibility of the existence of previous monks and nuns of Annwn occurred during my night long vigil for my lifelong dedication to Gwyn.

I spent the first six hours alone in my friend’s living room drawing a card from the Wildwood Tarot for each hour. My first card was the Four of Vessels – Boredom. Disappointing. But not unexpected. So I sat and surrendered to the likelihood the first hour was likely to be very boring. But instead of getting bored I got very lonely and found myself lamenting that I had no tradition to follow, no-one else for support in making such deep vows to Gwyn.

Then I had a vision. I was no longer alone. I was in some kind of underground shrine, chapel, or tomb, with long lines of monks and nuns wearing dark robes carrying candles before and behind me. 

I had always thought they were monastics from other traditions who walked similar paths and had come to provide me with company but now I’m wondering if they might have been past and future monastic devotees of Annwn.

*

This reasoning might seem a bit wild particularly considering there is no evidence for monks or nuns of Annwn in Brythonic literature or lore. 

However, if we look at those lines from Talieisn, first off we find them in Preiddeu Annwn ‘The Spoils of Annwn’ wherein the bard accompanies Arthur on his devastating raid on Gwyn’s realm from which only seven return. 

Secondly, the monks are exhibiting extremely strange behaviour for Christians – congregating or howling like dogs or wolves. This would make far more sense if they were devotees of Gwyn who is associated with a red-nosed hound called Dormach (5) and the Cwn Annwn ‘Hounds of the Otherworld’ (6) and whose father, Nudd, is referred to as ‘the superior wolf lord’ (7).

Thus, it might be argued, Taliesin is taunting monks of Annwn with accusations of not knowing the mysteries of their God – Pen Annwn – when He was born / created, of the source of the wind, the division of light and darkness. These seem bound up with Annw(f)n (from an ‘very’ and dwyfn ‘Deep) as the primordial reality that ‘underlies or underpins our known universe’ (8).

*

Even further, another of Taliesin’s taunts, is that they do not know ‘how many saints are in the void, and how many altars’. Again it would seem odd if saints and altars were consigned to ‘the void’ rather than raised to the Christian Heaven. If they were Christians… yet the consignment to the void of Annuvian saints and altars would make a lot more sense. 

Read into this more deeply and we find the disturbing possibility there existed monastic devotees of Annwn with saint-like qualities who with the altars of their Gods were committed by the likes of Taliesin and Arthur to the void. 

It is notable here ‘void’ is translated from diuant ‘space, void, annihliation, death’. These monastics have not returned to Annwn, ‘the Deep’, the regenerative deep home of their God but have instead been annihilated. Their names and memories chillingly wiped by Christianity from existence. 

Could it be their voices I hear from the void at this time the veil is thin?

(1) In ‘The Spoils of Annwn’, 
(2) In ‘The Battle of the Trees’.
(3) Potentially the Christian God but another possibility is Pen Annwn, the Head of the Otherworld, as in the second instance ‘Lord’ is translated from Pen.
(4) Margeret Haycock’s translation reads ‘congregate’ and Sarah Higley’s ‘howl.’
(5) In ‘The Conversation of Gwyn ap Nudd and Gwyddno Garanhir’.
(6) In the story of Iolo ap Huw in John Rhys Celtic Folklore. 
(7) In ‘The Pleasant Things of Taliesin’. 
(8) Kristoffer Hughes, ‘The Thirteenth Mount Haemus Lecture: Magical Transformation in the Book of Taliesin and The Spoils of Annwn’.

On Impossible Tasks

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‘Though you may get that, there is something you will not get. Twrch Trwyth will not be hunted until Gwyn ap Nudd is found – God has put the spirit of the demons of Annwfn in him, lest the world be destroyed. He will not be spared from there.’
~ Culhwch ac Olwen

I.
I have completed the impossible tasks. 

I have found You and Your water-horse and Mabon and His dark white-maned steed and every one of Your hounds and every single one of their leashes.

I have ridden down Twrch Trwyth ‘Chief of Boars’ and feasted upon him.

I have found all the giants who Arthur killed but I have not found their beards or the pieces of flesh he cut from them – Ysbaddaden’s ears, his cheeks are gone.

I have found all the treasures and returned them to You – their rightful owner.

I have returned the last drop of Orddu’s blood to Pennant Gofid. 

As for Culwhch and Olwen I have seen they did not live happily ever after. 

Finally I killed Arthur – see his blood beneath my fingertips as I type these words?

II.
Your next task feels more impossible. 

You tell me to ‘build the Monastery of Annwn’.

How? Why? When you mocked at Saint Collen,
taunted him with visions of Your fairy feast.

You tell me “a nun is not a saint.”

III.
I think of how Collen derided You and Your people and how I have danced with inspired ones – wild men, mad women, witches, on the brink of the Abyss.

How I danced towards death – too many pills, too much drink, not enough sleep, not knowing if this would be the night, not caring, hoping we would be united.

I wonder, if You’ve got devils within You, I’m allowed to have devils within me too?

You tell me I must “embrace paradox” and “be a servant of mystery”. 

IV.
You show me a vision of a tapestry detailing all three hundred
of the knights in Arthur’s retinue woven by a monk
in a distant abbey, You amongst them,
my unpicking of the weave

and following of the threads to where we know each other
best in the spiralling madness of the Abyss
where You, God of the Dead,
have known death.

V.
You tell me nothing is impossible 
and I know nothing is impossible except You.

Thus I will strive to fulfil my impossible task for You.

*A poem based on the difficulties of building a monastery that does not fit with recognised religions and that is dedicated to Deities who are ‘other’ / ‘otherworldly’ in relation to practical necessities such as having our own bank account to fund our forum, website and potential Zoom channel.

Introducing the Boy in the Serpent Skins

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Who would go
with the boy in the serpent skins
draped over one shoulder fastened with a bone pin

to the world of dead dragons at the bottom of the Otherworld?

Who would go with him clambering over the corpses where his hands
and feet are always bloody because the aftermath of the battle is endless?

Who would follow him down the trails of the scales of dead serpents
to where they have sloughed off their skins, one, then another?

Who would face what lies beneath, the glistening organs,
the hearts, the lungs, the livers hung up in caves,
the bowels woven into a pattern on a loom,
the heart strings strung on a harp?

Who would walk amongst those who took the pickings?

Who would run ragged through the caves of a hundred claws?

Who would refuse to admit defeat to the jaws that hang on the walls?

Who would take off all their masks and skins and expose not only raw flesh
and organs but what lies underneath
and hope it is a soul?

~

Vindos/Gwyn ap Nudd first appeared to me as the Boy in the Serpent Skins during some journeywork I was doing to find out more about his boyhood as part of the process of writing my novel-in-progress In the Deep.

The book begins in Annwn, ‘the Deep’, prior to the creation of the world. After his Dragon Mother is slain by the Children of the Stars and he is flung into and escapes the Abyss, the boy finds himself alone except for the corpses and ghosts of dead dragons and the devouring serpents who lie beneath. 

Over the past six months I have been journeying with him to find out more about this phase in his life and how it has been shaped by the challenges of the serpents and his descent and initiation into their savage and visceral culture. This has provided the raw material for a good part of the story of In the Deep.

In the image beneath he is pictured as he appears to me with grey skin, white hair and a white jewel in his forehead*, wearing white serpent skins fastened with a bone pin. He has seven fingers and toes with claws.** He carries a handful of white dragon jewels in his right hand and in the left a serpent’s tooth. Above him are the four winged ghost serpents with whom he forms a bond and come to serve him as his messengers – Tero, Goro, Fero and Kilya.

*I had thought this was an appearance unique to me until by coincidence I was re-reading Pagan Celtic Britain by Anne Ross and came across an image of a bronze head with a jewel in its forehead from Furness, Lancashire, not far from me!

**This is not unknown in Celtic mythology. In The Tain Cu Chullain is described thus – ‘Each foot had seven toes and each hand seven fingers, the nails with the grip of a hawk’s claw or a gryphon’s clench.’ Cu Chullain’s former name was Setanta and he might have been known in northern Britain as Setantios, a possible deity of the Setantii tribe here in Lancashire. 

You can support my work in return for exclusive excerpts from In the Deep HERE.

Prayer Beads of Annwn

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As a gift for my dedication as a nun of Annwn my friend Aurora J Stone made me some prayer beads. Crafted in the colours of Annwn from howlite (white), carnelian (red) and onyx (black) and the smaller ones from bone they include animals and symbols I associate with my patron God, Gwyn ap Nudd – a horse, a hound, an owl, a raven, a star, a spiral and the Awen. They are the most beautiful and meaningful gift I have ever been given.

When I received the beads earlier in January I was unsure what to do with them. I learnt that in the Christian tradition the person praying starts with the charm (the Awen) and the nearby symbols then moves onto the central bead, which is the invitation to prayer. There are then set prayers to be recited with the beads moving around in a clockwise direction from start to finish.

As we don’t have a set way of praying with beads or a body of prayers for Gwyn and the deities of Annwn in the Brythonic tradition I created my own by listening to the beads and for what came through from Gwyn and from the Awen. They are written below. The words in bold represent a bead or a symbol and can work as a pause for deeper meditation.

Prayer Beads of Annwn

Dedicated to Gwyn ap Nudd and the Mysteries of Annwn

The Awen: Annuvian Awen prayer*

Your Star: the first to shine and the last to die**

Your Spiral: I walk with You from beginning to end

~

Invitation:

Gwyn ap Nudd, White Son of Mist
by this white bead of howlite,
I respond to Your call 
to prayer –
let it be a doorway
to Your deep mysteries,
a gateway to the depths of Annwn.

~

Your Hound: the opening howl

~

Black is for dark,
for the darkness of Annwn,
for the Cauldron of Pen Annwn,
for the womb of Old Mother Universe.
For the primordial material and the black dragon,
for the chaos and terror before the birth of stars and worlds.

~

Your Owl: wisdom in madness

~

White is for spirit,
for the spirits of Annwn,
for the horses and hounds of Your Hunt,
for the fury held in Your kingdom and in You,
for all souls gathered at the end of time,
for the divine breath uniting all.

~

Your Raven: croaks over gore

~

Red is for blood,
for the heartbeat of Annwn,
for the heart of Your Kingdom and the berries of the yew,
for the river of blood uniting us with our ancestors,
for our sacrifices and our eternal battles.

~

Your Horse: carries me home

*I wrote this in English and fellow awenydd Greg Hill translated it into Welsh HERE.
**This echoes a poem for Gwyn called ‘For the First Star’ by another fellow awenydd and Gwyn devotee Thornsilver Hollysong HERE.

What Ails Me?

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‘Hail is cold grain
and showers of sleet
and sickness of serpents.’
– Hagalaz (rune)

I.
I come to You
my mind a wasteland,
the poles, the solstices of my world
out of kilter and something awakening beneath the ice

to ask the somewhat selfish question – “What ails me, my Lord?”

It echoes down through the centuries reminding You of Your father’s wound
and the wound You suffer every year battling against Your rival,

the wound to my navel after my dedication to You,
the pit of snakes in my belly button,

the heroes flung into it,
sucked dry. 

II.
“What ails me, my Lord?”

I’m back at high school again
with serpents twining around my chair legs,

staring down into the depths of the ink well I never used.

I’m chewing my pen, ink is dripping from the side of my mouth,
from my finger tips and I’m raising my hand
to ask for more paper, bleeding words,

rising to the challenge of the exam,

exulting in the quiet of the other pupils,
this scratching of pens the one thing I can succeed in.

III.
“What ails me, my Lord?”

I think of the serpents who twist around my arms
and sit deep in my belly and I wish I could tie around my ankles
to hang like You over the Abyss to gain the wisdom that explains this…

the way by lack of courage or confidence I am always climbing
the first three rungs on my ladder and then falling
back down into my pit of snakes.

IV.
“What ails me, my Lord?”

I’m back at the surgery again
and the nurse is wondering if I’m dead,
tapping my veins, trying to awaken them to life.

I’m explaining the junctions and showing which ones work.

Where blue flows to red and is tested then
incinerated by the fiery serpents.

V.
“What ails me, my Lord?”

My beast looks too much like an ink spodge test,

then I see my father splattered on the settee like a murder victim
from a third rate horror movie doing nothing as always.

I cannot find his wound or his serpents.

Instead I sink into mine and awaken them again,
the wounds made by all the surgeons, all the psychiatrists

by all the snakes fighting back, by all the horror movies and I hear

Your laughter, Your divine laughter, in my veins like poetry,
not the canned laughter of the television
he sits in front of.

VI.
“By asking the question you have opened the door.

Although all our blood and poetic truths
cannot save the world or heal
our ailments

by this opening
your serpents might return
to health and an answer might come through.”

*This poem is addressed to my patron God, Gwyn ap Nudd.

I wrote this poem last year. It is based on drawing the Hagalaz rune at one of the Way of the Buzzard journey circles over four years ago. I had a powerful experience that led me to investigating ‘the sickness of serpents’ not only in the Norse but the Brythonic traditions. It lies behind my series of books in which I explore the relationship between Vindos/Gwyn and the serpents of Annwn. The poem references gnosis received whilst writing these stories.

There is also an allusion to a series of blood tests I had last year relating to slightly raised liver function levels. Two ended up as four as on one occasion they did the wrong test and on another my blood coagulated in transit. It made me start wondering ‘does something want my blood?’ 

At the time I was writing about the conflicts in Annwn between the red and white serpents. As an answer, when I was sitting in the waiting room, on the white board a young girl had drawn a tower block with a huge winged serpent towering over it, which she was colouring it in red. I found out, after testing, blood gets incinerated and received the answer ‘the fiery serpents’. 

One of the results of the blood tests was that I have low iron levels. I have felt a lot better since eating more red meat particulary liver (sympathetic magic?) and believe this was behind me feeling tired and low most afternoons.

The final check relating to my raised liver functions is an ultrasound this Thursday so I will finally find out ‘what ails me’ (physically at least). If I do have minor liver damage it likely relates to having used alcohol to self-medicate the anxiety that comes from my autism since my late teens. I only started addressing this after making my lifelong dedication to Gwyn in 2019.

X. Your Kingdom

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Day Ten of Twelve Days of Devotion to Gwyn ap Nudd

I come this tenth day
to consider Your kingdom.

What is a kingdom?
What is a king?

Is it a matter of inheritance
or something within?

The devils
who God was said
to put in You to prevent
the destruction of the world?

The spirits and monsters of Annwn
whose fury You contain within Your realm,
in whose nature You partake and who are part of You?

You are a ruler, You are a leader, You are many,
one of them too, yes, they, themselves…

You rule an other kind of kingdom.
You are an other kind of king.

Like all good kings
You and Your land are one –
both Gwynfa and Gwyn,
King and Annwn.