From the Cauldron Born Read online

  About the Author

  Kristoffer Hughes (Wales) is chief of the Anglesey Druid Order, a Mount Haemus scholar, and a member of the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids. He is a teacher, writer, workshop leader, and guest speaker at Pagan conferences, camps, and festivals throughout the United Kingdom and Europe. Hughes has also contributed to Welsh and English television and radio. Videos, soundbytes, and contact information for the author can be found here:

  www.angleseydruidorder.co.uk

  Llewellyn Publications

  Woodbury, Minnesota

  Copyright Information

  From the Cauldron Born: Exploring the Magic of Welsh Legend & Lore © 2012 by Kristoffer Hughes.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Llewellyn Publications, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  As the purchaser of this e-book, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. The text may not be otherwise reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or recorded on any other storage device in any form or by any means.

  Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the author’s copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.

  First e-book edition © 2012

  E-book ISBN: 9780738734644

  Author photo by I. Gibbs

  Book design by Rebecca Zins

  Cover design by Adrienne Zimiga

  Cover illustration by John Blumen

  (cauldron: aldegonde/Shutterstock.com; landscape: gillmar/Shutterstock.com)

  Interior illustration from Celtic Designs CD-ROM and Book (Dover Publications, 1997)

  Llewellyn Publications is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  Llewellyn Publications does not participate in, endorse, or have any authority or responsibility concerning private business arrangements between our authors and the public.

  Any Internet references contained in this work are current at publication time, but the publisher cannot guarantee that a specific reference will continue or be maintained. Please refer to the publisher’s website for links to current author websites.

  Llewellyn Publications

  Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  2143 Wooddale Drive

  Woodbury, MN 55125

  www.llewellyn.com

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  This book is dedicated to my mum, Gillian: 100,000 words

  cannot express my gratitude or love. This book exists because of you.

  Diolch am cyr fy nghalon, am y bywyd y rhoddest ti i fi,

  Dwi’n dy garu di mwy na gall eiriau ddisgrifio.

  C

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Introduction

  Part 1: The Cauldron Born

  Part 2: One Tale of Old, Thrice Retold

  Part 3: Unravelling the Mystery

  Divine Intoxication: The Three Blessed Drops

  Cerridwen’s Cauldron: The Womb of Enchantment

  Morfran Afagddu: The Dance of Darkness

  Creirfyw: The Heart of Beauty

  Tegid Foel: Nobility and Strength

  Morda: The Key to Liminality

  Cerridwen: In Search of the Witch Goddess

  Gwion Bach: The Heart of Transformation

  Taliesin: The Prophetic Spirit

  Conclusion: A Template for Transformation

  Part 4: Stirring the Cauldron: Ritual and Practise

  Afterword

  Glossary

  A Guide to Welsh Pronunciation

  Bibliography

  Acknowledgments

  My initial thanks go to Damh the Bard and Cerri Lee for asking me to speak about this subject at one of their camps. Subsequently I got to spend a weekend with Cerri and the Cauldron Ladies at the banks of Lake Tegid, where we immersed ourselves in the tale. Your enthusiasm, passion, devotion, and commitment to this material served as the inspiration for this book, and I thank you all so much for including me in your magic.

  Chris Hickman has been a gift from the gods, with tips and advice and being quick to respond when a mad author on the verge of losing the plot screams for help from the shadows! Thank you for your words, wisdom, insights, and help. Thanks to Sue Hickman and her steadfast friendship and help; you may be quiet, but you still pack a punch. Barrie and Kristal Jenks have been the most steadfast of friends, and their encouragement and belief moves me deeply; thank you for everything you do and also for running to the rescue—Barrie’s ability to conjure rescue methods are quite astonishing. Michelle Axe also came to my aid with tips and advice, with her broom ever at the ready; thank you for your wisdom and enthusiasm. Ian Gibbs has been a rock throughout the entire project, particularly when the fronds of my sanity wore thin and my confidence failed. Having Cerridwen and her clan constantly around the house is quite a challenge for even the most adept magician, and he has taken it all in stride; thank you. To Mark Doody, who is the finest Muggle I have ever had the pleasure to know: although this stuff is practically French to you, you have never wavered in your belief in me; thank you for your constant encouragement and for being my friend. Thanks to Chris Hurst for her invaluable inspiration in relation to the shadow; your words and insights are a joy to behold.

  Angela Grant, my contact into the dusty world of libraries and Celtic studies, has been a font of wisdom and knowledge. Thank you for humouring me and answering what must, at times, have been the most frustrating of queries. You have been a gift from the gods.

  My sincerest thanks to the hard-working, attentive, and patient team at Llewellyn Publications who have welcomed me into the family with open arms. Thank you for everything that you do; I am indebted to you all.

  Last, but by no means least, my thanks and gratitude to the witch goddess and the prophet Taliesin, whose material and legend bring to my life the most joy and meaning.

  [contents]

  Introduction

  The purpose of this book is to share my own personal connection and experience of the most mysterious, profound, and transformative tale to arise from Celtic Wales. It concerns the adventures of an innocent young boy who is transformed into an all-seeing prophet by a witch’s magic, and the mysteries therein. The subjects of the tale—namely, Cerridwen, Gwion Bach, and Taliesin—have had a profound impact on my life and my spiritual explorations. I aim to share some of my discoveries with you here. Enough has been said academically concerning this tale, and this book will differ from the traditional scholarly explorations. Linguistic and cultural significance and developments of the Celtic tales are of great interest to me, but I write this book from a deep, soul-filled love of the allegories and of the practical application of the mysteries and their ability to enlighten the spirit and inspire the heart. I have attempted to bridge the gap between the world of academia and the realm of the visionary to present a work that is based on sources both scholarly and of the spirit.

  Here I will examine the historical significance of the tale and how it fits into the landscape of Wales. I do this to provide a background to the story in the hope that the reader may sense its place and feel its homeland through these words. Previous works on the subject have included references and explorations of cognate material from the Irish mythological sagas and other European sources. This present work does not make reference to other cycles of myth to substantiate the material at hand or to provide references for related themes. I have attempt
ed, as much as possible, to explore it entirely within the Welsh Celtic system. My intention is not to dismiss the neighbouring mythologies—on the contrary, they are of deep value to those lands and traditions—alas, my connection to them is limited, and I fear that any dissection or comparison would be superficial on my part.

  The initial concept for this book followed a vision and an intense working with the archetypes of the tale of Cerridwen and Taliesin. After years of devotion to these archetypes, I realised that there is no single book that deals entirely with the subject matter and examines its content. There are several books that deal with the tale to a lesser extent or refer to the archetypes within it, but as yet there is very little in one edition that deals entirely with the themes of this magical, ancient tale. After years of moaning that there was nothing available that I could reach and delve into, all contained between two soft paperbacks, I concluded that the only option left to me was to write it myself! The resulting effort you now hold in your hands—or, in our ever-increasing technological age, gazes at you from the screen of an electronic device.

  This book is split in to three sections. In the first part, you will find a general exploration of the tale—where it came from, how it arose, how it survived, and in what way it is relevant to our lives today. The second section contains three versions of the tales, two of which are traditional and translated from the manuscripts that have survived the ages, and one written entirely by me. The third section contains a dissection of the individual characters/archetypes and components of the tale—what they represent, how they engage with the mysteries, and how we ourselves interact with them. Finally, a year-long ritual will be presented to you for your own perusal, providing you with an opportunity to explore the allegories in a more practical, transformative manner over a year and a day. Subsequent rites are also included.

  Land of My Fathers

  The Celtic nations are abundant with tales of magic, transformation, and deep mystery. They sing of ages past and of an older, deeper magic; they are infuriatingly difficult to understand yet delightfully beautiful and simple. As a consequence, the tales and legends can seem nonsensical and contradictory, but fear not: there are tools and methods for exploring them in such a way that opens the spirit to their understanding. The legends and tales of these lands weave a magic that stitches and captures mystery and connection; they are capable of reaching through the mists of time to affect the here and now.

  My attraction to Paganism was, I feel, inevitable, but being raised in a predominantly Christian society wasn’t an encouraging or a nurturing environment to enable a child to explore the Pagan mysteries. I was drawn to mystery from an early age and perhaps was always a little different from my peers. Christianity seemed the only course of action, yet somehow it did not convey to my spirit the sense of deep awe, wonder, and excitement my being would encounter when confronted with the gods of my land, the old tales and the various archetypes that sing from pages and lips. I wanted to be a part of that, but alas—no textbook or handbook, no tome of instruction existed to inform me of what to do, how to do it, or where to explore something that at that time I could not adequately articulate. What could be done? Fortunately, the old gods and archetypes of the land and of the people were there; I needed only to trust, to let go of the hows, wheres, and what ifs and launch myself into the exploration of what had always tweaked the harp strings of my heart and the fronds of my spirit.

  I quickly discovered that I was not alone in my quandary; at the time, so many others around me were struggling to make sense of a need that arose from the shadows of their spirits. With no teachers and very few books on the subject, we had only the remnants of mystery hidden within our native tales and legends. Years of tumultuous growth and the ever-present storm of early adolescence acted as a distraction from the searching, yet something remained constant—some deep urge to know more, to sense more, to connect to something, whatever that something was. In actuality, I needn’t have feared or worried, for in time that connection would happen of its own accord. I firmly believe that it was there all the while, waiting to be discovered—to be unlocked from the confusion of adolescence. The spirits of the land of my fathers would arise to guide me.

  Growing Pains

  It was the prophet Taliesin that came to me, that ever-present spirit of my people’s connection to the land and to the mystery of being. I recall a time when I suffered terribly with sinusitis; around the age of thirteen, the condition would begin as a dull throbbing between my eyes, rising to an intense scream that caused my eyes to stream with tears, my lungs to gasp with pain. I would writhe on the bed, unable to focus, lost in the storm of agony. I would see things that were not necessarily there—creatures would run about the walls, and teary eyes would avert themselves from the terror that would consume me if I focused upon them. And then, one pain-filled afternoon, I observed a person sitting at the bottom of the bed. It watched me closely, this peculiar androgynous individual, a subtle smile upon its face; it seemed neither man nor woman, adult nor child, but something betwixt and between.

  I was crying, wanting my grandmother and the magical quality that grandmas have to make things seem altogether better. I vaguely recall asking the person for its name; whether I vocalised the query or not I forget, but in response its smile broadened, and from between its eyes, in the very spot where my pain was at its most intense, a spark arose. I can see it still, a tiny bright blue spark, almost like the pilot light of a gas burner. The light consumed the skin on its forehead and somehow fell in on itself, as if penetrating the cranium; like a fire of no earthly source, blue lights leaped and danced around the abyss that appeared in its head. The creature smiled ever greatly, a reassuring smile that all was okay, that I was not to fear. In a flash the light erupted from its forehead and beamed into the room, blinding me momentarily, and yet through the dazzle I could still see the serene countenance of its facial features. Its mouth opened, and I heard the words “You know who I am; I am Taliesin,” the words echoing in my pain-filled head, not received through my auditory senses but somehow arriving in my mind. The chemical messengers from the pain relief in my system suddenly got to work; the harsh edge of pain subsided, and I felt sleepy and comforted, my eyes heavy, and the light at the bottom of the bed faded. There was nobody there; only the whirring of the washing machine downstairs tickled my consciousness. I dreamed of a cauldron, of animals and fish, of an intimidating lady in grey with a basket full of plants and berries.

  My descent into the painful world of sinusitis would last two or three days; recovery was always rapid, the sudden release from the pressure in those strange empty spaces within our skulls. The vision of the person at the bottom of the bed simply sank into the recesses of my mind; I gave it little thought until a couple weeks later, when I discovered an illustrated copy of the Tale of Taliesin under the bed. I had always loved this book, the black-and-white line drawings evoking a magic from the pages; I must have been reading it just before I was debilitated by pain. Years later, the haunting qualities of that vision or hallucination would inspire me to seek the mystery between the words of Taliesin’s tale, to uncover the hidden meaning in the themes and the mystery that it attempts to convey. I would turn twenty years old by the time the tales would affect me again, having gone through the turmoils of adolescence and waiting for the hormonal maelstrom to settle. I was inspired to seek out the archetypes and mysteries that my ancestors had secreted in the seemingly innocent tales and legends of my people.

  In one of my favourite secondhand bookshops in the coastal town of Caergybi on the island of Anglesey, I discovered a book by the Celtic scholar John Morris-Jones. It wasn’t necessarily something I would have been at all interested in, but something within it tickled my curiosity, so I parted with a pound or two and took it home. A certain quote from it caused my heart to quicken:

  Quite enough has been said to show that these poems and tales, which were mist and mystery to those who wou
ld look at them through glass, become clear when focused at from a distance, and the mists and most of the mystery vanishes.1

  Somehow things did become clearer; a sense of direction and clarity descended upon me, and I read and reread that paragraph over and over again. Finally I realised that these tales and legends were never meant to be read, for one would only end up scratching one’s head in bafflement; they were to be experienced, to be immersed within. What were initially created to be conveyed and transmitted from the lips of the bards had become stagnant in the written form, reliquaries of dry ink on parchment. That this act preserved the magic cannot be disputed, but it also acted as a curse, for once something is written, it cannot easily be changed without criticism or objection; it becomes an article for evisceration, a mystery of linguistics and the beauty of language and its development and evolution. Yet the key to their understanding lies not in the words but in the spaces between them, in the blank lines and the potential void betwixt the sentences of ink. I had to proceed with no instruction other than the inherent need to explore and connect with the mysteries that my ancestors had bequeathed. And so I began with the tale of Taliesin and the magical cauldron of inspiration and transformation that lies at the heart of the Celtic Pagan and Druidic traditions.

  • • •

  Ultimately, this is a personal journey; while it is my journey, over the years I have noted that my experience shares a commonality with others who have sought out the mysteries. My development and exploration of the Celtic material ultimately led me to becoming the head of the Anglesey Druid Order and a student of the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids, whose community encourages the sharing of mystery. As a result I embarked upon this journey of putting fingers to laptop to share with you, the reader, my journey into the cauldron of the witch goddess Cerridwen. I do this in the hope that some of these words or the description of my own journey will inspire you to seek out the magic of the cauldron and invoke the radiant brow by igniting the fire in your head—a fire of wonder, of magic, of inspiration, of awe and music and poetry.