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1112.TIF

The Magic
of Animals

We are animals—social creatures who live in packs and protect our offspring and communities with fervor and might—and there are times when we act entirely on instinct. But generally we suppress the animalistic side of ourselves for the more civilized human aspect, one that functions well in polite society. But by connecting to the non-logical, instinctual aspect of the animal kingdom and acknowledging the animal instinct that exists as a part of our inherent nature, we move closer to understanding another facet of the natural world. The following chapters will explore the function of animal magic and lore in the Celtic tradition. Here I introduce you to some of the oldest animals of Celtic lore and explore the power of shapeshifting and animal totems. This section concludes with a Celtic bone oracle that will offer you a unique and effective method of divination reminiscent of ancient Celtica.

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We have looked at trees and their relevance to the Celts, and also to the plant kingdom, but now we cast our eyes towards our kin—our brothers, sisters, and cousins of the animal and insect world. There is a lot to learn here, and out Celtic ancestors had much to say about their interaction with the animal kingdom. Tales abound in the hundreds and mysteries are relayed as human beings are either transformed into animals or take on the shape and form (and, in some cases, the very nature) of animals. This is interesting, for it tells us that our Celtic ancestors believed that there were lessons to be learned from the animal world. And this wisdom continues to this day for us to look at, study, work with, and be transformed by.

The Celtic veneration of natural powers included those of the animal kingdom, and if we look to the artistic and archaeological record it appears that animals were revered, tended, and hunted and that the Celts admired these traits to such an extent that tribes took on the attributions of certain animals as heraldic or totemic symbols. Examples of animal hunting and veneration are evident in the cave art of prehistoric Europe, and although there are examples of trees and perhaps even plants, they primarily depict interaction between man and beast.

Animals, by means of their meat, ensured the survival of our species, which in itself naturally resulted in acts of veneration and spiritual awareness. In addition, members of the animal kingdom were assigned humanlike qualities, which would cause those qualities to “rub off” when we connected with the animal.

I touched on the significance of the horse earlier, particularly in relation to the Mare of Sovereignty and the goddess of the land, and although we can extrapolate a spiritual significance from this, it also has a deeply practical aspect. The horse enabled the people to tend the land with greater efficiency, increasing their ability to plough effective crop fields. The pig, while revered as a creature of the otherworld and a symbol of the initiate’s journey from profane to sublime, also fed the people; a single pig would go a long way to ensure the survival of a family group during the winter months. Like many things within the Celtic cultural continuum, they invariably had a double meaning, and it is likely that the spiritual significance and attributions of trees, plants, and animals belonged more to the caste of priests, magicians, and soothsayers. Everything contained a hidden meaning, which the bards and traveling minstrels disseminated through the channel of innocent entertainment—which also targeted an audience of mystery students and practitioners, disseminating the latest teachings in a changing new world. 97

While there is evidence to suggest that the Celts revered their animals and even perceived the connection between man and the animal kingdom by means of zoomorphic creatures, there are hardly any actual examples of practical magic associated with the animal world. Therefore, in order to work with the animals in a modern sense that is applicable to twenty-first-century Celtic magic, we must extrapolate meaning from the old mysteries. The previous two chapters, while offering a window of thought onto the manner by which we work with trees and plants, also offered practical, getting-down- and-dirty-with-nature techniques of applied magic. This chapter, by its very nature, is different, and the magic herein belongs almost exclusively to the world of visions and contemplation. Casting a sacrificed cat into your cauldron would be rather frowned upon and alert the attention of the authorities no doubt, but aligning ourselves to cat energy by sympathetic connection, either by means of amulets or shapeshifting, is perfectly appropriate. Where there is an absence of practical lore, it is perfectly permissible for the magician to fill the empty spaces by means of Awen. In ancient times this demonstrated and exemplified the magicians’ abilities to connect to the archetypal realms and bring forth that inspiration. 98

Animals in Celtic Myth

Animals feature heavily in Celtic mythology and legends, where they appear as guides, teachers, or indicators that something otherworldly is about to take place. Within the Mabinogi saga we encounter many animals that are white or have something extraordinary about the way they look. Their appearance informs us that something unusual is about to occur, such as the white hounds of Arawn with their red-tipped ears in the first branch of the Mabinogi. Pwyll seems blissfully unaware that they are indicative of something extraordinary, but the reader is given a clue that the tale is about to take a sudden turn for the unexpected. We encounter a similar situation in the third branch of the Mabinogi, set some years into the future, where Pryderi, the beloved son of the horse goddess, is a young man; his father is dead; and his mother, Rhiannon, has married Manawydan, the son of Llŷr, brother to Brân and Branwen.

Another striking similarity occurs whereby Pryderi and Manawydan go hunting and prepare their dogs; later, the dogs rush into a copse of trees nearby, where they encounter a white wild boar who leads the party towards a fort that nobody has seen before. Against Manawydan’s better judgement, Pryderi decides to follow the boar into the fort, and there he encounters a cauldron that is suspended from four golden chains. Upon touching the rim of the cauldron, he becomes mute and his feet become stuck to the spot. His mother, Rhiannon, in her worry goes in search of him, and she too touches the cauldron and loses the power of speech, her feet fixed to the ground. And then, with a clap of thunder and a blanket of mist, the fort and both mother and son vanish.

What is significant here is the occurrence of the white boar, which reiterates the common swine motif within the Mabinogi. Arawn gives Pryderi a herd of pigs as a gift, which Gwydion later tricks him to part with. It is a white sow that leads Gwydion to the foot of the Tree of Life in search of Lleu, and in the epic tale of Culhwch and Olwen, where we first meet Arthur and Mabon, the entire tale is centered on the capture of the Twrch Trwyth, who is a boar. We are informed throughout the legends that pigs, as a species, were a gift from Annwn and are not necessarily indigenous to our planet; they were symbols of food, with pork meat being one of the most sought-after foods for feasting. Their strength and speed made even wolves nervous, and as such they were respected and feared; the act of hunting the boar is captured in the tale of Culhwch and Olwen (incidentally, the name of the hero Culhwch means “slender or lean pig” 99 ). Consequently the pig was a primary symbol of hunting and battle. Depictions of a boar can be seen on the plates of the Gundestrup cauldron, where one is attending the zoomorphic Cernunnos figure and another is seen on the helmet of a warrior on horseback. Representations of the boar and other sacred animals were frequently worn as amulets in the belief that some of the qualities or attributions of those animals would be passed on to the wearer; this practice is more than applicable for use by modern magicians. 100

In subsequent centuries, the pig in Celtic mythology has been associated with the divine feminine and as a symbol of the great initiator. Cerridwen, in particular, has come to be symbolized as a pig goddess; however, there are no actual references to her having been in pig form, but her role as initiator and devourer of the profane can certainly be seen emulated in the function of the pig within Celtic mythology. What is significant to the function of magic is that each encounter with the pig leads to initiation:

For the mind, body, and spirit to be fully knowing of mystery, a transformative initiation must take place, and it is the pig that embodies this. For the sublime to rise, the profane must be questioned, challenged, and ultimately transformed.

Human to animal transformations are prevalent throughout the myths, and we have already encountered some of these as we explored aspects of the Mabinogi legends. The mystery lies in understanding the hidden meaning of these transformations. In chapter 21 we explored the meaning of magical terminology in the old Celtic languages, such as rith (shape and form), anyan (nature), and the manner by which these are employed. There are instances where a human is transformed into an animal against his or her will, but there are also episodes that tell of willful transformation.

Read the third branch of the Mabinogi again, after Pryderi and Rhiannon have been abducted within the vanishing fort; Manawydan is faced with a series of disasters that affect his crop. The culprits are a band of mice; he quickly realizes that there is magic afoot and succeeds in capturing one of the slowest rodents. It transpires that the mouse is none other than the heavily pregnant wife of Llwyd, the perpetrator of the curse; strangely, she is also pregnant in her form as mouse, and the implication is that the transformation from woman to mouse was entirely voluntarily.

I have briefly touched upon the forceful or involuntary transformation of Gwydion and Gilfaethwy as punishment for the raping of Goewin, and also that of Lleu, who is transformed into an eagle. Each of these animals is indicative of mystery, and the manner by which it happens tells us something about the nature of what is going on, or what the tale is attempting to tell us on a subtle level. None of the animals are selected without thought, and many are typical of the common animal iconography of the Celts.

Animal Totems

You may be more than acquainted with the term familiar, and no doubt the image that it evokes will be of the stereotypical witch’s cat; while I do not doubt that this contains an element of earlier mystery, it may also mislead us into assuming that a familiar is a pet that somehow assists our magic. In actuality, a totem or a familiar is so much more—they may well be allies in magic but they are not necessarily physical animals. In many instances a magician’s animal ally may be a zoomorphic beast, such as Cernunnos (half animal, half human) or Blodeuwedd in her owl form. And while these may be representative of an aspect of humanity, they also express the wild nature of the animal kingdom, based on instinct and survival. Animals may well connect us to another facet of the natural world, but within the spectrum of magic they also have other zoomorphic aspects that represent further channels of mystery.

A totem can be perceived as a clan or family member where the animal is not deemed as “other” but instead is a valued member of that particular group; these creatures later may have become emblematic or heraldic symbols. This is not something that has fallen from use. We continue to have animals as part of our modern families; although the focus may have changed a little, our pets are members of the clan, and we invariably treat them as family.

On a magical level, a sympathetic connection to the animal kingdom is a valuable practice, and they can aid and give power to our magic. One of the most effective ways of doing this is to create amulets that have been empowered with connection and are subsequently worn about one’s person. Small figures of boars, horses, and other animals have been discovered throughout northern Europe and seem to have been pendants that could be suspended to form a necklace. 101 While their actual function remains unclear, such figures—discovered in bogs, rivers, and other natural sites, together with hill carvings and metal art—likely had both spiritual and mundane functions.

By creating animal amulets, we create a sympathetic energetic link; it is by means of this relationship that the amulets cease to be mundane objects and become charged magical items. They can serve a multitude of functions, and the examples given here contain two specific aspects, the traditional attribution of the animal and also its zoomorphic counterpart. I introduced an aspect of this in the instructions for creating an amulet aligned to Rhiannon to be used for the assimilation of grief and bereavement; these amulets need not be restricted to a single attribute but can embody all functions of the animal and its zoomorphic counterpart.

The amulet itself can be formed from any material you choose. What is essential is that you are comfortable using it and it has a hole or loop attached to it for threading onto a cord. Bear in mind that there is no requirement for you to be a master craftsman. This is an act of magic; perform it as a ritual in ritual space. Practical magic should not be a chore, and there are allies that we can ally ourselves to if we struggle with confidence or just don’t consider ourselves to be particularly crafty. The function of the amulets that you create may have several purposes: they may be emblematic of your group, grove, or coven; they may be created as spell-gifts for a friend or family member who could do with a little boost from that particular beast; they may be created to align yourself to the practice of shapeshifting or to introduce the quality of that animal as a component of your clan. You may have struck difficult times, and the comfort of having a supernatural ally that can imbue its qualities onto your situation may be all you need to get through it.

The symbol of the animal should sing to your spirit; the ones given here are mere examples. Ensure that you take to imagination and meditation to glean an understanding of the animal’s quality and, if applicable to you, its zoomorphic attribution. Don’t overcomplicate the initial connection. There is a simple technique for getting to know the animal—for example, if you chose to work with the energies of the stag …

Meditation
A stag of seven tines

Stop for a minute or two—take a breath with the land beneath you, breathe in the sky above you, and deeply breathe with the rhythm of the seas that surround the shores of your land. Sit comfortably, eyes gently closed, and bring to mind the animal that you would like to work with. Picture it in its natural setting; in this instance, it is a grove in the wildwood. Long shadows dance across the grassy floor. You emerge from the shade of the trees; the sunlight above you warms your face. In the opposite side of the grove a stag emerges. Hold this image; paint it with your imagination: what color is he, how tall are his antlers? Be aware of his presence and ask him to show you his nature—no need to be all mystical and spooky, just ask him to reveal himself to you. Tell him who you are—it’s only polite—and be there in his company. Ask him to show you his world and how he interacts with it. Does he have a zoomorphic aspect? If so, ask if you can meet it; it may be in the guise of an antlered man or half stag, half human. Swim in blissful imagination in the company of the stag. When the vision starts to fade of its own volition, offer your thanks and return to the here and now. Have a cup of tea, do something mundane, and allow the vision to assimilate into your being before you analyze it.

Explore the animals in this manner. Note them in your journal and form a picture of their physical lives, any myths and folklore that are associated with them, and how their zoomorphic quality interacts with you. Examples of the most powerful and well-used Celtic animal amulets are as follows:

The Boar

As a magical device, a boar amulet will imbue the wearer with the qualities of leadership, the warrior spirit, and direction, strength, ability, sheer force, and speed. It is a useful animal when faced with new situations and initiations. The sacredness of the pig in ancient times was demonized by the new Christian faith as being dirty, slothlike, and lazy. In its zoomorphic sense it represents the qualities of the Twrch Trwyth, a king transformed into a boar, and the qualities of unrestrained wildness and instinct. The boar can also be perceived as an aspect of the Goddess in her guise as initiatrix.

The Stag

The stag epitomizes the wild spirit and the mysteries of the forest. In Celtic myth, it entices heroes into the otherworld and is often seen as a precursor to supernatural events. It symbolizes majesty, pride, independence, and purification. Its shedding of antlers associate it with the turning Wheel of the Year and with fertility and prosperity. Stags are wholly noble and majestic and represent monarchy and sovereignty. In a zoomorphic sense they are representative of man’s connection to the animal kingdom in the various antlered gods of the Celts. In the fourth branch of the Mabinogi, Hyddwn, the hind offspring of Gwydion and Gilfaethwy, matures into a stag and is noted as one of the three champions of Britain.

The Wolf

The wolf may appear as a hostile and fierce predator, which belies its instinctive and well-mannered attributes. The wolf values family and community; it is cunning and highly intelligent. As a magical ally it is representative of the tribe and of learning and understanding the nature of the shadow. It is the perfect creature to align oneself to when a boost in study is required. In a zoomorphic sense it is associated with Bleiddwn, the wolf-cub offspring of Gwydion and Gilfaethwy.

The Horse

A primary symbol of the Celtic people and a representative of the Mare of Sovereignty and the goddess of the land, the horse is a powerful magical ally. They were revered as emblems of sexuality and fertility, as messengers, and as signs of economic strength and success. The war horse was a symbol of immense strength and power. The horse goddess in her guise as Rhiannon, Epona, and Rigantona are representative of the Celtic horse deity par excellence. 102 The horse goddess acts as protectress, but she is not immune from sufferance, and she symbolizes the manner by which we communicate with the goddess of the land.

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When you are ready to create your amulet, perform the triskelion ritual in chapter 5 and take to crafting. Recall the images and visions from your meditative encounter with the animal and project those impulses into the amulet as you create it. Create englynion that are appropriate for the quality of the animal you have chosen. Remain within the ritual space until the item is complete.

The Power of Shapeshifting

I must admit that when I initially found my path into Paganism and discovered the concept of shapeshifting, I was somewhat disappointed to discover that nobody could actually change their physical form into a toad or a badger or any other animal, for that matter. It took a while and some years of study to come to the realization that the shapeshifting accounts within the tales were expressing mysteries of the spirit, and that is when the magic of these encounters started to make sense to me. As it happens, shapeshifting is a reality in the magical world and a practice that any of us can do with a little study, devotion, and practice. We can learn a lot from the animal kingdom, and the shifting of the spirit’s form into that of an animal is a common theme in Celtic myth.

In the tale of the birth of Taliesin, we encounter the following verse:

I have fled with vigor; I have fled as a frog,

I have fled in the semblance of a crow, scarcely finding rest,

I have fled as a wolf cub; I have fled as a wolf in the wilderness,

I have fled as a thrush of portending language,

I have fled as a fox, used to concurrent bounds of quirks,

I have fled as a martin, which did not avail,

I have fled as a squirrel that vainly hides,

I have fled as a stag’s antler or ruddy course,

I have fled as a fierce bull bitterly fighting,

I have fled as a bristly boar seen in a ravine,

I have fled as white grain of pure wheat. 103

Taliesin claims to have been all these things as well as numerous other animate and inanimate objects. It is tempting to assume that he is speaking of linear, or sequential, incarnations, but we must consider that the spirit is not bound to the limitations of linearity and temporality. Taliesin experiences these encounters, and by proxy of that he becomes them, albeit temporarily. In The Life of Merlin: Vita Merlini, he elaborates on this ability when he says:

I was taken outside of myself and I was as spirit, and I knew the acts of peoples past and was able to foresee the future. I knew the secrets of things and the flight of birds, the wandering motions of the stars and the way by which fish glide. 104

He knew the secrets of things, in particular the nature of certain animals, something which he reiterates in other poetry, and the key to this is that he was taken outside of himself and was as spirit. What is happening here is that Taliesin is not changing his form or shape; he is projecting his spirit into the form of targeted animals and other states of being, and as a consequence his spirit swims with the energy of that creature and he is able to experience the life of that animal and its secrets. This is the true nature of shapeshifting.Just as a shaman in some tribal cultures could cause his spirit to join that of an eagle in order to seek counsel, the shifting of shape should really be called the shifting of the spirit from one experience to that of another.

This is all very well, but does this have an actual practical function in modern Celtic magic? Yes, I believe it does, for it creates another bridge by which we become ultra-aware of our environment and the creatures and spirits that inhabit it. The act of shapeshifting causes us to appreciate and understand the nature of where we live and the manner by which other forms of life make up the song of that place. We can be a selfish animal; we tend to go about our business with little thought for what is around us; but the magic of Celtica teaches us to listen and be aware of everything that surrounds us, not as separate aspects but as parts of the whole.

To explore the function of shapeshifting, this exercise will require some study on your part. Read the Celtic myth of Culhwch and Olwen in its entirety (it is readily available online or in book form as part of the Mabinogi collection). You will have already been acquainted with Mabon, the son of Modron, and the fact that Arthur went in search of him, but in order to locate him he had to seek the help of the world’s oldest animals. It is to these animals that we look for the mystery of shapeshifting; connecting to them will also facilitate a deeper understanding of the Mabon mystery.

The birds within this tale are recalled in the Triads of the Island of Britain as the “three elders of the world,” and it seems likely that there existed a substantial body of lore relating to these animals and the wisdom they transmitted. This body of folklore can be seen mirrored in Irish and Scottish mythology, and the antiquity of the oldest animals motif can be seen in Indian and Persian myths. 105 There is much wisdom here; the sheer age and ancestry of these tales suggest that there is something relevant and important—so important, in fact, that they continue to mesmerize and baffle academics and visionaries to this day.

As visionary practitioners, we must look to Awen to fill in the gaps, to cause us to swim with the experience of the oldest animals, and we do this by the process of shapeshifting, of being beside ourselves and being as spirit and projecting that stream of consciousness and energy into the shape and form of the oldest animals. By doing so we are connecting to iconography and a body of lore that is hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. It is here within the hidden realms and by means of our subtle senses that we access the mystery teachings of these tales. Attempting to understand them by studying the words alone is futile; for the mysteries to be discovered, you must be outside of yourself and as spirit.

Within the tale we encounter five ancient animals:

Exercise
Meeting the oldest animals

The following exercise can be recorded onto an electronic device and played back to facilitate a guided pathworking journey.

Take to a comfortable chair; in a group setting, ensure that everyone is comfortable and capable of being relatively still for at least forty minutes.

Breathe deeply to the beat of the land.

Breathe deeply to the rhythm of the seas.

Breathe deeply with the breath of sky.

Focus entirely on your breathing for several minutes, slowing the body down; focus your mind on each limb and tell to it relax and let go of the day. As your body slows to the rhythm of your breath, begin your meditation.

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You stand on a peninsula; an ancient forest thins to reach the seashore. There is a clearing in the wood; within it is a small stone platform, and upon it sits a tiny marble of what appears to be iron. The delightful song of a blackbird draws your attention to the nearest tree, whose lowest branch holds the form of a blackbird. It looks deep into your spirit. You offer it a greeting and nod your head to acknowledge it. Now send your spirit towards the blackbird—in a flash, sense what it sees from its vantage point; imagine looking back at yourself from the form of the bird.

Sense the age of the bird and the following mystery. The stone platform held an anvil, black and heavy. See the sun setting in the west, hear the sound of the ocean, and feel the bird alighting from the tree to land on the side of the anvil. The bird bends its head and rubs its beak against the anvil. Sense the longevity of the bird and the wisdom of its spirit as it watches the passage of time and alights onto the anvil and rubs its beak against it each evening. Over millennia it erodes the iron, and the anvil grows smaller and smaller until nothing more remains than a small iron nut. At this point, sense the spirit of the blackbird swimming with yours and ask it questions that are pertinent to your journey; what mystery and wisdom can the blackbird relay to you and your experience? Through the eyes of the blackbird you see a band of men approach. Now leave the body of the blackbird, thanking it as you do.

Take your place amongst the men. You turn to look at the bird, who utters these words:

“I know nothing of the man you ask; however, what is right and proper for me to do for Arthur’s messengers, I will do. There is a species of animal that was shaped before me. Go there; let him be your guide.”

A mist descends on the peninsula, and as it clears you see a fern-covered hill. Walking gracefully through the tall fern is the form of a stag. It walks steadily towards you; the morning air is cold, and his breath is visible as he exhales. You send him a greeting and extend your spirit towards him, and he accepts you with the wisdom of ages. Suddenly you see yourself through the eyes of the stag—you are the stag. What is this world that the stag inhabits? Where is this place, and what wonders has the stag seen? You turn in the guise of the stag and notice a small red stump on the ground; the mists of time rush towards you, and you see in its place a mighty oak. The stag takes to his antlers and rubs them against the tree. And time moves forward, and with each rubbing the oak grows ever smaller until nothing remains but a small stump. At this point, sense the spirit of the stag swimming with yours and ask it questions that are pertinent to your journey; what mystery and wisdom can the stag relay to you and your experience?

The stag turns and sees a band of men approaching through the mist. With a blessing, your spirit leaves the stag and appears beside the men. As you take your place amongst them, the stag opens his mouth and utters these words:

“I know nothing of the man you seek; however, since you are Arthur’s messengers, I shall be your guide and send you to another who was shaped before me.”

The mists rush towards you, and the stag and the fern-covered hill vanish. You find yourself on a hillock overlooking a large, lush, green valley; you sense the rivers running through the trees and the lives of a million creatures. A hoot from behind you takes your attention; you turn to see the shape of the owl of Cwm Cawlwyd before you on a branch of oak. He nods at your greeting, and your spirit rushes towards him; with a dizzying turn, your view changes and you see yourself and the vast valley behind you through the eyes of the owl. The sun runs backwards and the moon rises, darkness becomes light, and you sense the backward turning of thousands of years.

The forest groans as you watch a band of men destroy it; bark cracks and the smell of burning wood reaches you. The sun rises and the moon sets and the wood is destroyed. But on your branch outside of time you watch as saplings grow and a new forest emerges, but again the men come and destroy it. A third time the forest regrows. At this point, sense the spirit of the owl swimming with yours and ask it questions that are pertinent to your journey; what mystery and wisdom can the owl relay to you and your experience? From the woods to your left, a band of men appear and offer you a greeting; you sense them to be Arthur’s messengers and leave the form of the owl. As you take your usual form, you turn just as the owl opens its beak and utters:

“I know nothing of the man that you seek, but I shall be your guide to meet the oldest animal in the world and the one who has wondered the most.”

As the mists descend, your form moves from one place to another, and as they lift they reveal an alder tree, in whose branches is held the form of an eagle. You offer it a greeting, and your spirit is taken outside of yourself. See what the eagle sees, hear what the eagle hears, and as it takes to the wing, flying over your human form, you sense the wisdom of ages. In the form of eagle you alight onto a rock, and from here you attempt to pick at the stars, but the sun rises and sets, and the moon shines her face, over and over, and with each setting and rising the rock grows ever smaller. At this point, sense the spirit of the eagle swimming with yours and ask it questions that are pertinent to your journey; what mystery and wisdom can the eagle relay to you and your experience? You take to the wing, and beneath you a movement catches your eye: a salmon sleekly swimming through a narrow creek. You descend, sensing the rush of air and the hunger and instinct of eagle. Your claws pierce the back of the salmon, but lo! He will not come easily. Instead, you are pulled beneath the surface and the mighty salmon takes you deeper, threatening to drown you; your talons retreat, and you make for the surface. As you land breathless near the riverbank, a band of men appear from the trees and summon your spirit from the form of eagle, who says:

“I know nothing of the man you seek, but I know of one who may; he is the salmon of Llyn Lliw.”

The salmon appears at the surface and stares at you; you feel your spirit tugging at the edges of your body, and suddenly it rushes towards the form of salmon. You take its shape and rush through the waters; swimming quickly, you sense the floodwaters around you growing stronger, inundating the land, and as your head in salmon form breaks the water’s surface you hear the most dreadful cries—stout walls ahead of you conceal the lamenting and moaning of Mabon, the son of Modron. Sense the spirit of the salmon swimming with yours, and ask it questions that are pertinent to your journey; what mystery and wisdom can the salmon relay to you and your experience?

Your form swells, and you sense the approach of Arthur’s men. As they leap from the riverbank to alight on your back, your spirit is propelled from the shape of salmon and soars into the piercing blue skies; beneath you the cries of Mabon rise to meet the spirits of sky.

The mists envelop you, and as they do your body becomes denser, limbs relaxed, and you sense the chair against your back. From the center of your being send a greeting to the blackbird, the stag, the owl, the eagle, and the salmon. Return.

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Stretch, move a little, have a bite to eat, do something mundane, and think no more of it. Take to your bed as usual, and on the next day recall your impressions of your journey into the form of the oldest animals.

A Cloak of Feathers

We encountered Blodeuedd in the previous chapter, but now we strive to call her in the form of an owl and the magical attributions of that enigmatic and mysterious bird. At the culmination of the fourth branch of the Mabinogi, Gwydion strikes Blodeuedd with his wand, cursing her to change her form and shape, and thus she is renamed Blodeuwedd. She became the first of her kind, and all subsequent owls would be cursed to the night and be scorned by all other birds. Now while this may appear somewhat harsh on the surface, we cannot take it at face value, for it represents a deeper mystery. Blodeuedd was a maiden made of flowers and turned into the shape of a human being, yet she possessed the inherent uncontrollable powers of nature that just wanted to express its own inherent nature. Finally, she is returned to the wild in the guise of the owl.

In her cloak of feathers she has become synonymous with ancient wisdom, the secrets of the night, and of shadow and potential; she heralds transitions and acts as a conduit for messages relayed from the subtle realms. She is extremely cunning and stealthy and is the epitome of instinctive intelligence. All of these attributes are held within her form; she is the owl goddess, and her cloak of feathers connects us to the wondrous world of the owl.

The cloak of feathers in itself is a typical symbol of Celtic mysticism and magic, and yet there is no evidence to suggest that it existed in ancient times; motion pictures and later legends have immortalized the concept, and it has become a familiar and well-loved notion of Celtic magic. But there is merit and validity here, for to create your own cloak of feathers is to participate in a ritual that has all the signs and feeling of being Celtic while simultaneously causing one to move closer to the bird kingdom, developing relationships with our winged cousins. This ritual will help you construct such an item.

We live in a want-it-now society where even spirituality can be purchased; we want spells that can secure that flashy car, we want it now! Why should we have to wait? Cerridwen had to wait—in fact, she had to work hard for just over a year, toiling and tending the cauldron; it was an act of devotion and deep commitment to her craft, and without it the cauldron would not boil the essence of Awen. Sometimes magic and the crafting of magic needs to take time; we need to be fully there and present at every turn, working towards a goal that we have set in mind, worked on, and committed time and effort to achieve. And while a cloak of feathers is not an essential requirement in Celtic magic, it is a rather wonderful manner of connection and the perfect tool for working animal magic.

To create a cloak of feathers, you will need:

Your cloak may take you six months to create or it may take ten years—the time it takes will reflect the manner by which you connect to the kingdom of birds and develop your own ability to practice augury, divination by studying the movements of birds.

You will need to find as many feathers as possible, and bear in mind that you will need a lot of feathers, perhaps over a thousand or more. They can come from any source as long as is responsible; however, do consult your own local laws regarding the possession of feathers. Feathers can invariably be found as a result of death, road kill, accidents, natural causes, or hunting for the purpose of food. What is important is that wherever the feathers come from, take it as a sign of that bird’s message and attributions. If you don’t know which species it came from, find out: look it up. Learn about the birds and their symbolism.

As you collect the feathers, keep them in a safe place, and then periodically, as the moon turns her face to darkness, take to stitching the feathers onto your cloak. The most effective form of a feathery cloak is to make a cape of feathers that covers the shoulders and extends to the middle of your back, this will still require several hundred feathers, but its effect is striking. Stitch a feather in place securely by pushing a needle and thread through the quill and into the fabric; there is no right or wrong way of doing this, but by piercing the quill a few times it will ensure a good grip. However, be careful that you do not over-pierce the quill and consequently weaken it. If you start from the top of the cloak, you will need to start the second layer of feathers underneath the first layer, which will pull back and out of the way easily. Stitch the second layer of feathers starting from halfway down the first layer; this will eventually result in a rather lovely layered effect.

As you stitch, call to the owl goddess:

Flower-face goddess, to thee I sing

Shame of eagle, Gronw’s delight

To my cloak of feathers bring

Wisdom and secrets of the night.

Return your cloak to a safe place until it is complete. Finally, when you are happy with its progress, read the fourth branch of the Mabinogi and acquaint yourself fully with Blodeuwedd, then take to your visions…

With a breath from the land, and one with sky and another with sea, imagine a stout branch beneath your feet. In place of your eyes, two blooming flowers form the shape of an owl’s face; your human form loses shape, and as you cast the cloak of feathers about your shoulders, you become the owl and the spirit of Blodeuwedd floods your being. What does it feel to be human-turned-bird; what mystery does she transmit? Imagine being the woman of flowers turned into a bird, and sit in your cloak of feathers imbued with the wisdom and magic of Blodeuwedd.

Bee Magic

It is easy to fall into the assumption that only the grandest animals most replete with Celtic heraldic symbology are the ones worthy of examination, but when we consider that the most revered of birds was the smallest—the wren—perhaps we must also look to the miniature world of the insects for further teachings of mystery and magic. There is an ancient adage that says we should “ask the wild bee what the Druids knew.” Where this phrase came from is wrapped in mystery, and yet it points at a greater mystery and connects them to the priests of the ancient Celtic world. Bees were sacred insects in almost all civilizations and societies, famed for their honey, a rich carbohydrate that ensured nourishment during the cold months. Mead— fermented honey, probably the world’s first alcoholic beverage—was famed to be fit for the gods, and the old Celtic term for being intoxicated was and continues to be meddwi, to have had too much mead!

Bees live complex lives and have powerful methods of communication; they utilize pheromones and intricate vibration dances to relay information that can accurately pinpoint the location of a flower to within feet. They act as individuals but never at the cost of the hive, where upon entry they lose their identity as a single insect and become an aspect of the collective mind. Man’s relationship with bees is as long as our need for sweetness and light, and probably stems back to the dawning of our species. They are abundant in metaphysical significance and were considered to be messengers of the gods and were believed to carry the souls of the dead to the borders of the otherworld. On a practical level, bees and their keeping and observation align us with powerful seasonal energies, for the bees react to the seasons in a manner that most of us cannot. We can learn much by watching the bees and attempting to understand the singular nature of the hive’s mind.

It is thought that the bees take a particular interest in human affairs, and it is therefore considered expedient to inform them of certain occurrences. It has been a custom in Celtic lands to inform the bees of a death in the family, and not necessarily the domestic hive; to inform the wild bee is equally customary. If this was neglected, it was thought that another death would soon follow the first. In many parts of Wales it was usual for the hive to be turned around so that the entrance did not face the funeral procession. The bee hive would often be placed in mourning after a death by placing a small black ribbon onto a stick and inserting it into the hive’s roof. 106

The month in which the bees swarm is considered of greatest importance, and this makes perfect sense, for the sooner they swarm, the longer their summer and therefore the greater the quantity of honey. A late swarm cannot gather honey and may well suffer. This belief has found its expression in the following verse:

A swarm of bees in May

Is worth a load of hay

A swarm of bees in June

Is worth a silver spoon

A swarm of bees in July

Is not worth a fly. 107

It is, however, considered very fortuitous to find a strange swarm of bees in the garden or a tree belonging to your property. However, stolen bees are considered unlikely to produce honey.

Exercise
A Medieval Celtic Bee Spell

From finest clay make the form

Of three small bees, stout and strong

Within a bag now should you place

And heed these words of grace

These three bees within this bag

Will bring you all you need

Health, wealth, and sweet happiness

Is where you will succeed

So hang them high within your home

Near window and front door

Place within your brightest room

So you should want no more. 108

[contents]

97 Hughes, From the Cauldron Born, 15.

98 Parker, The Four Branches of the Mabinogi, 101.

99 Davies, The Mabinogion, 260.

100 Green, The Gods of the Celts, 155–171.

101 MacCulloch, The Religion of the Ancient Celts, 328–329.

102 Green, Gods of the Celts, 162.

103 Guest, Mabinogion Legends, 132.

104 Geoffrey of Monmouth, The Life of Merlin: Vita Merlini, 33.

105 Bromwich, Trioedd Ynys Prydein, 235–237.

106 Owen, Welsh Folklore, 337–340.

107 Owen, Welsh Folklore, 338.

108 Englyn written by me.