Tag: Witches of Annwn

Aspen – Tree of the Woman’s Tongue

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“Can you hold your tongue for a year and a day?” My patron God, Gwyn, challenged me. 

“No,” turned out to be my answer, “no – I cannot.”

No coincidence that this year I have been connecting more deeply with aspen. Because of the talkative rattling of is leaves it is known in Welsh as coed tafod merchen ‘tree of the woman’s tongue’ and coed tafod gwragedd ‘tree of the wife’s tongue’. Similarly in Scotland it is known as ‘old wives’ tongues’. 

The English, ‘aspen’ derives from the Germanic asp perhaps relating to its snake-like bark or to snake’s tongues. Its Latin name, Populus tremens, refers to its leaves which are said to quake restlessly as it provided wood for the cross Jesus was crucified on.

An ominous tree, associated with prophecy, until recently it existed at the peripheral edges of my vision. Small stands in local woodlands, on the edges of roads and paths, just one considerable colony at Fishwick Bottoms.

I’ve spoken to it in passing and sat beneath its leaves and listened to its chatter. I’ve journeyed to it, met the King and Queen of the Aspens, learnt that it was the favoured tree of Orddu, Orwen and and their ancestors, the Witches of Annwn who have become spiritual guides for me in the traditions of the Old North.

Orddu showed me that the woodland in Pennant Gofid, ‘the Valley of Grief’ was an aspen wood that had been there since the end of the Ice Age. We walked together as she pointed out the fungi and buzzing flies in areas of decay. Afterwards I learnt that aspen supports numerous detrivore species of fungi, up to 155 on a rotting log and saxoproxylic Diptera favour the microhabitats created by decaying sap under its bark.

Aspen is usually a sociable tree that grows in colonies yet Orddu introduced me to a single Talking Aspen she and her ancestors sat under to read the prophecies from its leaves. I was instructed to sit beneath it with her mother, Orwen’s skull, to listen to the wagging tales of old and dead witch’s tongue.

I was shown, in autumn, how the Witches of Annwn fly as birds of aspen. 

“In winter, when the aspen is silent,” Gwyn asked me, “can you hold your tongue?”

“No,” turned out to be my answer, “no – I cannot.”

Like old women, old wives, old witches, this middle-aged nun of the aspened suburbs and wife of the King of Annwn cannot hold her tongue. 

Aspen needs to tremble. Tongues need to wag. Words need to be typed. I need to write for the sake of my well being, for my Gods, for those who find inspiration in my work in spite of giving up all hope I will make a living from it.

Over my period of silence I’ve found a new way forward as a shamanic guide providing one-to-one shamanic sessions in my local community and am planning to start a shamanic circle here in Penwortham in the New Year.

Step by step my Gods and spirits are showing me my path as a nun of Annwn. Part of this is reclaiming my relationship with my abandoned creativity and embracing it as a way to health and healing for myself and others.

*Information about aspen in this document comes from ‘The Biodiversity and Management of Aspen Woodlands: Proceedings of a one-day conference held in Kingussie, Scotland, on 25th May 2001.’

Stepping into Orddu’s Lineage

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I am told I must step into Orddu’s lineage. 

Warrior. Prophet. Spirit Worker. Inspired One. Healer.

I am old but on this path I am still so young.

Heretofore I have proved myself only with words,
with books, although those months on the mosslands
planting cottongrass and sphagnum might count for something.

I have said too much – talking about me, me, me, my problems.

The time for whining and complaining has come to an end.

It’s time to listen, to learn, craft a new art to heal the violence.

(I will not speak again of how Arthur killed her with his knife,
drained her blood into two bottles to grease a giant’s beard,
neither will I drive Carwennan again into my own wounds.)

A life off the page lies ahead of me now – the spirits call.

Ogddu ‘Black Cave’ – Devotional Art

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Oggdu ‘Black Cave’ is not known from existing Brythonic myths or folklore but has come through to be me as the mother of Orwen, ‘Very White’, who was the mother of Orddu, ‘Very Black’. They were a lineage of ‘witches’ who lived in a cave in Pennant Gofid, in the north, and had associations with Gwyn ap Nudd, a King of Annwn.

Ogddu first came through as a name, then as a voice, now finally in an image. I wasn’t sure how she was going to look until I started drawing. I’m not sure how she lost her eye(s). A story waiting to be told or a mystery that will never be known?

Orwen ‘Very White’ – Devotional Art

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This is a sketch of Orwen ‘Very White’. We know nothing about her from Welsh mythology aside from her being the mother of Orddu ‘Very Black’, a witch who lived in a cave in Pennant Gofid ‘the Valley of Grief’ in the north, and was killed by Arthur. The image and poem below are based on my personal gnosis.

Mine is the wisdom of the owl
who takes flight at dusk,
crepuscular,
like the crescent
of the moon beginning to wax.

In the interstices between new and full,
dark and light, by the half-light you might meet me.

Although they call me ‘Very White’ you don’t want to see me
fully exposed by the white-pitched revealing light of the full moon.

By the full moon’s light I once caught a snowy white hare
and took her to be sacrificed in the Castle of Night
but somewhere up there in the heavens
she escaped me and I found
in her stead
within my owl feather cloak
a piece of dead star and it has since
then lit the orb on top of my staff with dead starlight.

They say now that I might be seen at dusk or dawn
on the wing or as a light on the marsh
too white to behold by the black of night or daylight.

Orddu ‘Very Black’ – Devotional Art

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As part of the process of introducing Orddu and the Witches of Annwn into my daily practice as spiritual ancestors I am beginning to produce some devotional art for them as well as writing them poems and telling their stories. Here I am trying to capture Orddu’s characteristics as a ‘very black witch’ and ‘hag’ who battles against Arthur as presented in the original tale without inclining towards more traditional caricatures. I aimed to create the sense of harsh formidable and dark figure who was esteemed as a warrior woman and prophet. As you can probably tell I have no formal training as an artist just a history of doodling characters from writings of my own and others from a very young age.

The Voice of the Dark Cave

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I.
You are not perfect
distant daughter of mine

and life is filled with lumps
and bumps and knots and cracks.

There will always be problems.
You will learn to solve them.

There will always be pain.
You will learn to heal.

That is the secret of our art –
of the inspired one and the witch.

II.
There is a cauldron in the cave
and a vision in the cauldron,

the lining of the womb
of Old Mother of Universe

and this is the Web of Fate.
You are the needle travelling

in and out of the weft of time
to re-weave the tapestry.

III.
You are not perfect
distant daughter of mine

and life is filled with perils
worse than the monsters of Annwn.

One-eyed giants, eyeless, blind.
You will learn not only to face

but to help these things
that should not have been made –

to help them return to the dark
of the Old Mother’s womb.

IV.
A universe is in the cauldron
and the cauldron is in you

kindled by the breath
of ninefold wise women,

by wisdom of the ancestors.
In it our visions boil and brew.

Be a strong vessel distant child
so this old world can be born anew.

These words were received from Ogddu on a spirit journey to the Cave of the Ancestors this morning. I believe Ogddu to be the mother of Orwen and grandmother of Orddu. Her name derives from ogof ddu ‘black cave’ and one of her epithets is ‘the Voice of the Dark Cave’. Receiving this poem from her confirmed that my choice to walk Orddu’s path and to begin working more deeply with this lineage of Inspired Ones of the North (who I perceive to be spiritual ancestors rather than blood ancestors) is the right one.