Pwyll:
Hearing the Call of the Land
He came as if from a vision—slowly at first, like a shadowy, undefined figure approaching through heavy fog, becoming clearer as he neared. His name seemed to just arrive in my mind: Pwyll. I felt a sense of timeless wisdom that came with his presence, and an old magic—older than the standing stones in the next field held. I sensed him walking beside me as his tale coalesced in my mind—unexpected, without cue or reason it seemed, it all came at that moment: a sense of the land calling through the presence of a man whom I knew belonged to the legends of my people.
Pwyll was the prince of Dyfed, a county in the southern reaches of Wales. He awoke one morning with a compulsion to go hunting. Within a grove he set his dogs upon a stag brought down by another pack belonging to Arawn, a king of Annwn, the underworld. To repay his insult, he agreed to take Arawn’s shape and form and live in Annwn for a year and a day. There he was asked to meet Arawn’s archenemy Hafgan on a bridge on May eve and kill him by striking him only once; a second blow would restore his life. Pwyll fulfilled his duty and returned a year and a day later. He discovered that Arawn, in Pwyll’s shape and form, had ruled his kingdom well, and Arawn, in gratitude, bestowed upon him the title of Pwyll Pen Annwn (Pwyll, the head of Annwn). Pwyll later met Rhiannon under magical circumstances and is the father of Pryderi. 49
Perhaps the most significant part of that tale from the first branch of the Mabinogi is hidden within the very first sentences: that it had come upon Pwyll’s heart and mind to go hunting. The majority of readers see nothing within these words other than a man’s desire to go hunting, yet I would argue differently—that it was, indeed, the call of the wild, the song of the world hidden within our own reality, that called to Pwyll that dawn. Having conversed with hundreds of Pagans over the years, it seems apparent that at some point in each individual’s life, something stirred within them—as if the mysteries of Nature herself began whispering to them, calling them to sing the songs of the wild places.
Perhaps it was a similar “calling” that summoned me to the wilderness of the mountains that evening two decades ago to be stirred by the call of the wild, to begin to listen to its song and respond to it. It was here that I sensed the presence of Pwyll as a demigod, as an ally. It was a calling that only now I am beginning to fully understand, that something within some of us can sense and hear the subtle realms whispering through the story of the land.
Akin to Pwyll that morning long ago, when something entered his heart and mind to go hunting, we need to act upon that instinctual calling of the wild, of the spirit, to respond in an assertive manner to that whispering that we hear, a familiarity that arises from the depths of our spirits, summoning us, invoking us to venture into the wilderness of exploration and finally into the groves of magic. Pwyll himself experienced a profundity of the spirit, a descent into the underworld; his lessons were many and varied, yet he was still fundamentally flawed, human. The remainder of the first branch of the Mabinogi showed him to be nothing other than human; changed, perhaps, yes, but nonetheless human. Whatever we experience and learn along this path into the forest of nature and the shadows of humanity, we mustn’t feel inclined to be something other than what we truly are: an individual locked into the experience of being human.
Pwyll’s name translates as “wisdom, reason, and understanding,” 50 traits that he learns by means of his connection to the otherworldly realms and his marriage to Rhiannon. Hearing the call of the wild and approaching the forest of the spirit is all very well, but in order to make sense of this we must learn to make sense of ourselves—to utilize our discretion and wisdom, to learn steadfastness and perseverance, traits that Pwyll as demigod and magical ally adequately demonstrates for our own learning process.
Within the first branch of the Mabinogi, we encounter two kings of Annwn, the indigenous underworld of the Celts: Arawn and Hafgan. One could argue that they are simply opposite aspects of the same being, working antagonistically perhaps. This trait can be identified within ourselves, the rational and irrational or the instinctual and unmoving aspects of our personas. We each have colliding forces within us; sometimes their purpose is to keep us safe, in familiarity. Sometimes we go against these safeguards and take risks, learning and growing as we go along; sometimes we fear our instincts—afraid, perhaps, of our own potential to cause change or to affect the tidal flow of our own lives.
Pwyll responded to the calling of the inner observer, the “I” that is our everpresent permanent identity—what has existed since the dawning of the universe; what sings of creation, of evolution, of being. It is this that calls us to hear the song of wild awakening; for some unknown reason it compels us to reach out with our spirits, with our minds, and with our bodies to see the connection between all things and to sing of it with every ounce of our being. Only you and you alone will ever truly know why you have chosen a spiritual path—why you sense something beyond the ordinary denseness of this world and of the societies we live within.
Pwyll teaches us to watch and observe—to trust our instincts and to see the subtle omens that surround us. He did not question the impulse that came to his heart and mind; he simply went with it, trusting that he was doing the right thing. This is a valuable lesson for any magician, to trust and to act on what he or she senses and feels, and trust that, at that point in time, they are correct.
Exercise
The Englyn of Awakening
To invoke the wisdom of Pwyll and his teachings, take yourself to a liminal place; I suggest that it mirrors the places of magic that Pwyll himself experienced: a mound of earth or a grove of trees. Take to sitting on the ground with both hands palms-down on the ground beside you, and sing this englyn.
Lord of Dyfed, gowned in grey
Hearken to my words I pray
Wise one, King of Annwn deep
Arise and call my soul from sleep.
On this day and upon this hour
Sing to me of ancient power
Let it come to heart and mind
Let Annwn’s wisdom be mine to find. 51
Recite this englyn whenever you need your instincts to do the right thing.
Pwyll
Spiritual Function: Listening, acting on instinct, sensing the subtle, honor, faithfulness, wisdom.
Magical Ally Function: Guide to the otherworld who teaches us of the otherworld’s reciprocal nature; sometimes it needs our interaction, our noblest virtues. Call as guide in visualization and meditation to the otherworld.