From the Cauldron Born

by Kristoffer Hughes

  Creirfyw shares her title as the fairest maiden in the world with another lady of significant lineage who appears in the Welsh romance of Culhwch and Olwen. Within this epic tale we are introduced to:

  Creiddylad, daughter of Lludd Llaw Eraint, the most beautiful maiden there ever was in the three islands of Britain and her three adjacent islands. And for her affection Gwythyr, son of Greidol, and Gwyn, son of Nudd, fight each May Day forever, until the day of Judgment.48

  Here we are introduced to two men of supernatural quality who represent the light and dark half of the year respectfully and may be the source of the popular Pagan myth of the Holly and the Oak Kings. Under orders by King Arthur, they agree to abstain from taking Creiddylad’s hand and instead they meet at a time of liminality, between spring and summer, to fight for her hand in marriage. Whosoever wins the battle on the day of Judgment will win the maiden’s heart. Here we have the perpetual battle between light and dark playing itself out at the time of heightened sexual power and carnal lust. This symbol of beauty, Creiddylad, causes these two men to fight to the death for the sake of love. It can be seen as a metaphor for the overwhelming power that beauty has over the human heart. Beauty is something that is wanted, needed; humans lust for it, desire it, and, at its extreme, they will kill for it. When this battle for beauty is internalised, it can cause eating disorders, insecurities, and a constant war with oneself. On the other hand, it can imbue confidence and sureness; it can bring light and joy into the lives of others. This can be seen in the gifts that Creirfyw brings to the cauldron, and they are as essential as the shadow—they are imperative for the brewing of Awen, yet they are riddled with contradictions and obstacles.

  Beauty is as fickle, fleeting, and subjective as the nature of Creirfyw herself, and with so little recorded of her, we are left scratching our heads in frustration. Or are we? The physical remnants of the tales are simply one side of the coin; there is another side, one which we access by means of the subtle senses. It is all very well to ponder over dusty tomes and manuscripts that hide in the shadows of libraries and archives, but these tales abound in magic and are perpetuated by magicians and adepts of the wise crafts. It would stand to reason, therefore, that one utilises the senses to discern what hides betwixt and between the lines of old ink on parchment. As this book has demonstrated thus far, this tale and myriad others perpetuate a body of wisdom and lore that predates the coming of the Catholic church and its missionaries and pertains to a time when the old gods walked hand in hand with mortals. They provide evidence of a residual Druidic/Pagan wisdom and source of knowledge that initiates of the mysteries can continue to access to this day. But this cannot be achieved by one method alone.

  People are drawn to the beauty of words, to the fine lines of calligraphy on velum and parchment; they are sucked in and become immersed in a world of writing. As we have seen, this function served to preserve the material, but one must be cautious that the beauty of words does not distract the subtle senses or be to its detriment. The wonder and beauty of language, of its evolution and development, is a magnificent thing—a part of our history. But within the beauty of words lies the threat of literalism. This is a common syndrome in a world besotted by the written word, by the attitude that if it is written, it therefore must be true. These tales, which swam in the ever- moving rivers of the oral narrative tradition, did not belong to the world of the academic; instead, they were a tool of the magician, of the bard, and of the seer. We are all drawn to beauty in different ways, but we must be careful of its embrace, for it can overwhelm us and coerce us into strong opinions based only on one facet of the truth. Within the traditions of the ancient Celts, it was permissible to “fill in the gaps” by means of Awen and the divine connection the initiate had to the source. If we take Creirfyw, for instance, we quickly realise that we have very little information, so the best course of action for the querent is to journey with her—to summon this archetype, within context, from beyond the mists of time and directly communicate with her. Historically this visionary element was not frowned upon or condemned as inappropriate or lacking in authority; in fact, it was quite the opposite. A student and initiate of the schools of mystery was expected to use the subtle senses in this manner, to tap into the cauldron of knowledge and bring forth its wisdom, filling in the gaps that the centuries had forged.49

  To journey with Creirfyw is to be immersed in the beauty of life, to see its wondrous, awe-inspiring light that radiates throughout the universe. If we look to nature or to the night sky, if we look into the depths of the ocean or as far as our telescopes can reach, we see beauty. This breathtaking face of the universe surrounds us continuously; we swim within its radiance, and yet sometimes the whole of existence can seem a dreary and dark place, threatening and unfriendly. Just like Creirfyw, beauty has another face: it commands respect and honour. The pure blossoms of the blackthorn are alluring, so much so that hands may reach out to caress them, only to find a vicious thorn that penetrates the flesh. The aquamarine seas of our planet are a sight of utter beauty, yet they can rise and destroy. The woman on the cover of a fashion magazine may be the object of desire and lust, but her airbrushed features only hide the pain of abstinence and hunger that embitter her. The pop star with his expensive clothes and rock-hard abs may find himself crying in isolation, his beauty of little value to him in an empty bed. Beauty can steer us into tight corridors of denial, of pretending to be something we are not; it can cause us to conform rather than sing our own individual songs. We may look in the mirror and despise what we see; we may dress differently, or hide behind an act so that the world accepts us. Feeling fat and unattractive, we may stop eating well in an attempt to emulate the perfect beauty on the cover of a magazine. Our vanity may isolate us from our responsibilities—it may force us into debt for the next fashion item or the new advanced surgical technique. Tighten this, smooth that, tuck this, and stretch that! Finding the balance in beauty is perhaps more difficult than accessing the shadow.

  Creirfyw’s song has another side; she tells us to look to the smallest pimpernel, to the bobbing head of a weed that graces the hedgerow, to a single campion that grows on an old pile of grit. If we look closely at the smallest things in life, we can see a humble form of beauty that may otherwise elude us. The lesson of beauty is balance—this is the song of Creirfyw. She teaches us to take stock of what we have—regardless of what we look like, where we come from, or how much money lines our wallets. We are inherently beautiful, we are a vital cog in the wheel of the universe, and it is amazing, yet simultaneously it is deadly. When we sing in tune with our being, we make music that is unique, individual; it expresses our place in the world as spirits that swim in corporeal vessels. You are beauty and ugliness, shadow and light combined; you are simultaneously amazing and deadly. This is a vital part of your song, and this is what Creirfyw asks that you bring to the cauldron.

  Do you harmonise to the rhythm of your own music? Are the lyrics of your life song your own or in line with another? We may be inspired and influenced by those around us, but too often we allow this to sink to another depth, where we attempt to conform. We may change our behaviour, standards, and opinions to please someone else. We may dress to satisfy another’s needs or suffocate our own expression in fear of judgement and ridicule. We are all victims of these states to an extent, but we needn’t be. They are not our songs. Your own is supremely more beautiful, for a simple reason: it is yours! Creirfyw asks that we look to the humble buttercup—its beauty lies in its ability to express itself with honesty, being true to itself. The buttercup does not wish to sing the song of dandelion or orchid; it has its own song of beauty and purpose. It is not reliant upon another. An oak tree does not wish to emulate the rowan, it wishes only to sing in praise of itself. The face of beauty in nature teaches us the lessons of beauty in human nature.

  The light must be in balance with the dark—shadow and reflection, brilliance and dullness. When the songs of Creirfyw a
nd Morfran Afagddu combine, we ascend into the realm of humility and integrity. By allowing the two voices of light and dark to harmonise, we start to sense and appreciate our own inherent beauty. Imagine how dull the world would be if we all looked the same, talked the same, dressed the same. Creirfyw and her dark brother do not oppose; they are not powers that antagonise each other. They serve only to give voice to our light and shadow—they are essential to our wellbeing. You may not have the wardrobe of a rock star or the muscles of an athlete or the hair of an actress, but these are only facets of beauty—perhaps falsely so, for they are perpetuated with an agenda. True beauty lies in the ability to balance the light and dark, to give voice to the brother and sister of opposites. Combined, they bring immense magic to the cauldron; apart, they can destroy it.

  You are a part of the universe learning about itself, singing in praise of itself. You are more beautiful and wondrous than you give yourself credit for. Sometimes it can be difficult to appreciate the beauty of a star-filled sky when you feel like your own stars have been extinguished. But look to magic, look to wonder and enchantment, reach out to the siblings of light and dark, and they will help you rekindle the stars of beauty that have always resided within you. This life is your story; it is not prewritten, you are its author and its narrator, its producer and director. Creirfyw teaches us the value and nature of beauty; her brother brings us the message of the shadow.

  Together they teach us to listen.

  Exercise: lessons in beauty

  Spend three days thinking intensely on the three things that you value most in your life. Create or find an item to represent each value; this will eventually be cast into water, so ensure that the item is of an expendable nature. Imbue it with the sense of what you treasure the most. Only you will know what each item represents; they could be your children, your family, your career or art, but they must represent what gives your life the most meaning and value. Make sure that you can identify each item without confusing one with another.

  Then choose a place that you consider the most beautiful—a favourite valley or wood, a glade or a plain, but it should contain a body of water, be it a lake, a river, or a pond. At a time that suits you, take yourself and the three items you have selected to this place. Get as close to the water as you possibly can. Settle yourself and invoke the following image into your mind:

  See the body of water in your mind’s eye and imagine that upon its surface there is a mist. From that mist a human figure appears; it is half naked and incredibly ugly. Its hair is matted and unkempt, and blisters and scars cover its body. It approaches you and says, “Give me what you cherish the least!”

  At this, the figure sinks into the body of water. Open your eyes and reach for the item that represents what you cherish the least. Cast it into the water.

  Settle yourself once more and recall the same mist that hovers above the water’s surface. This time you imagine a figure of great beauty, male or female or a combination of both. It is the epitome of physical attractiveness; everything about it is perfect and alluring to you. Imagine that it walks towards you, its hands outstretched as it says, “Give me what you cherish the least!”

  The figure vanishes beneath the water, and you must again reach for the item that represents what you value least. This is no easy task; much of your love and connection to something vitally important to you is symbolically attached to this item, and you are being asked to throw it away. Feel its separation from you as you cast it into the water.

  Close your eyes once more and recall the mists. This time from within its depths comes a figure of two halves—one side radiates light and beauty whilst the other is dark and obscured by shadow; a river of pulsating grey light beats at their joining. The figure approaches you, its hands outstretched, and as it slowly sinks beneath the water, it says, “Give me what you cherish the most!”

  Relinquish your final and most treasured possession into the waters.

  What are you without the things you value the most? How do they define you? Having spent some time pondering over them, evaluating them, and then giving them up to the spirits of light and shadow, how do you now perceive yourself? When all that we value is stripped away from us, we are left with the bare bones of our personalities and qualities. We are all defined and define ourselves by what we treasure. The purpose of this ritual is to challenge that definition, to allow you time to reflect on who you are as an individual stripped bare of the constraints and values that have been placed on your life. At this point you are a child of the cauldron, naked, vulnerable.

  This allegorical offering of your values and treasures causes a shift in consciousness that may not be immediately apparent. Allow messages of light and shadow to enter your subconscious through meditation and dreams. Note the feelings and senses that you encountered during this exercise in your journal. Give thanks to the archetypes of light and shadow and to the spirits of this place of beauty.

  Record the experience in your journal.

  [contents]

  42. Peniarth MS 111.

  43. Creirfyw will be used throughout this book.

  44. Bevan, Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru, 578–79.

  45. Bromwich, Trioedd Ynys Prydein: Triads of the Island of Britain, triad 78, page 208.

  46. Ibid.

  47. Ibid., 327.

  48. Culhwch ac Olwen, translated by the author.

  49. Parker, The Four Branches of the Mabinogi, 100–101.

  Tegid Foel

  nobility and strength

  • • •

  In the days of Arthur, there was a nobleman

  who lived in the land called Penllyn.

  His name was Tegid Foel, and his home

  was the body of water now called Llyn Tegid.

  Ystoria Taliesin

  You will note that the following interpretation of the Tegid Foel character is subject to a similar treatment as that of his offspring. Very little is recorded of this masculine figure, yet he is essential to the telling of the tale. In a similar style to the exploration of Creirfyw, Awen must be utilised, in conjunction with research and written sources, to tease meaning from this mysterious character. Although his presence within the tale is limited to the first paragraph alone, this is no indication that his role is unimportant. In fact, one can find attributes of immense value that contribute to the overall meaning of the tale. With the exception of Tegid, every other archetype and component within the tale has a definite supernatural quality. Their contributions are those of magic, of deep human qualities and attributes; they bring the gifts of acceptance and learning, liminality and innocence to the cauldron. These qualities are subjective and fluid; they have no defined parameters or borders and can blend with one another. Tegid’s properties are very much the opposite: they are steadfast and based entirely in the physical world. Tegid Foel is the personification of the material plane.

  His name appears in the old texts as Tegit Uoel50 and Tegid Voel51; both variations appear in modern Welsh as Tegid Foel, meaning “Tegid the bald.” He appears briefly in other Welsh genealogies, where we are informed of other children whom he fathered. We are not, however, provided any further information about them or their lives.52 One may immediately note the peculiarity of the term “bald”—why such a reference to his baldness? As with all names in Celtica, nothing is used by accident or without meaning; his baldness is indicative of something. Surely his title is not a nickname directly related to male pattern baldness! But baldness does denote something specific to our exploration of Tegid—it implies high levels of the male sex hormone dihydrotestosterone. This hormone is produced in the male prostate gland and affects the hair follicles; it denotes increased virility and sex drive. These males’ body types are generally hirsute, but the side effect of such a powerful hormone is the ultimate loss of head hair. If we take this into consideration, we are presented with th
e image of a tough, sexually powerful, and fiercely masculine figure. He is the epitome of manliness. We are told that he is noble, and a further folk legend presents him as vicious and cruel. These masculine traits all point to a “god” type figure, the polar opposite of the feeling, emotional, instinctive aspects of Cerridwen in her aspect as Goddess.

  In Pagan lore, Tegid Foel represents the energy of the Lord, with all his authority, stability and the setting of boundaries. Without this aspect of the God, the inspiration of Cerridwen’s cauldron lacks the ability to be manifested on the physical plane. Tegid provides the structure and discipline necessary to hold the energy of inspiration being produced or channelled by Cerridwen. The energy symbolised by Tegid is present throughout the tale, but he is not always obvious, as he is not always represented as an anthropomorphic being. The physical boundaries he represents can be seen as the structure and material of the cauldron that holds Cerridwen’s potion. This provides the boundary and holding function necessary to contain Cerridwen’s catalytic and magical work, symbolic of the constraining and disciplinary function of Tegid. Tegid can be seen as the “holding” aspect of the land during the chase sequence. He represents Awen made manifest through the structure of the physical world.