Divine Intoxication

the three blessed drops

• • •

Three drops, of all the multitude of herbs,
would spring forth. And upon whichever man they would fall,
she would see that he would be all-knowing in all the arts, and full of the Prophetic Spirit.

Ystoria Taliesin

For all that follows to make sense, we must first look at the quality of the brew that Cerridwen strove to create. This was not a task she took lightly: a year and a day of toil and work, of utter commitment, ensured that the final product would do exactly as it said on the can! It would imbue the seeker with wisdom and the Prophetic Spirit. This is the heart of the Celtic mysteries; this is the vitality and the force that brings life to the entire universe and all who dwell within it. The essence of the brew and its fundamental properties has its counterpart in almost every culture around the globe. In the Celtic nations this essence or spirit is called Awen.11 The name, although almost impossible to literally translate, can be described as the divine flow of spirit. The University of Wales’s Dictionary of the Welsh Language describes Awen as “the poetic gift, genius, inspiration, the muse.”12 However, the word can be seen to be composed of two parts: aw—which forms the root of words such as awel, meaning “breeze, light wind” and can be synonymous with breath; it is translated to mean “fluid” or “gas.” The suffix -en shares the same root as the prefix of the word enaid, meaning “soul” or “spirit.” So, in light of this, it is reasonable to translate Awen as meaning “a fluid, gaseous flowing spirit.” Awen is omnipresent; in fact, an effective way of describing it is that everything exists within Awen. It is not out there, ready to be invoked; we swim within it. To make sense of this, imagine, if you will, the following:

A Celtic goddess laughs loudly as she kicks a football towards her fellow deities; it bounces sharply off the forehead of her Nordic counterpart, whose stunned expression causes her to laugh ever louder. She watches in enjoyment and tilts her head upwards, becoming aware of another force. She looks at the fluffy white clouds that decorate the sky, the sun shining brightly and dazzling her blue eyes. The green, soft grass of the pitch upon which the gods play calls to the mountains beyond; their heads, swollen by days of rain, sing to the same song she hums in her spirit. The breeze brings brine to her lips from the sea that hides just out of view beyond the hillock behind her; she nods in reverence as her eyes meet the circle of stones that decorate its summit. She licks the salt from her lips and smiles as she feels the oceans of the world dance within her.

It is Awen she feels; she is within it—it surrounds her and everything else within this vast universe. She hums its music as she breathes, feeling it in the very molecules of oxygen and hydrogen that descend to the fabric of her lungs. It bursts through cells, caressing the carbon molecules that she is constructed of. From there she senses the distant galaxies and their stars, the black holes that suck all matter back into the field of Awen. Awen is all of these things. The tiny insects at her feet, which crawl through grass in search of food, move through the essence of Awen.

Her eyes close as its song rises within her; the other gods stop and turn towards her. She is singing its praise, and they respond. Their voices lift in unison; lost in the rapture of Awen, they sing to the people who revere them, to the cultures and civilisations that bring offerings to their altars. They too swim in the divine oneness of Awen. For a moment, the world stops and lifts its voice—from the deep, energetic soul of the universe, Awen sings too, as it will for all time.

Where Is Awen? Can We See It?

Yes, in various forms it is obviously manifested through the expressions of artists in the apparent world. Awen exists in our songs, artwork, writing, poetry, dance, and craft, all of which enable us to articulate the soul-deep connection we have to this universal force, where the universe experiences itself through myriad lives that live within its embrace. The act of bringing forth Awen can only realistically be expressed through our creativity, where we access the vast cauldron of potentiality and make manifest what was previously unmanifest.

The concept of Awen is a central tenet within the Druidic tradition but is not restricted to it alone. It is a concept that can be incorporated into any of the current Pagan traditions and utilised to enrich their practises and rituals. A deep, soul-filled understanding of Awen will act as a guide to effectively incorporating it into your daily practise, group practise, development circles, and seasonal celebrations. This spirit or essence underpins the Celtic mysteries; it lies at the heart of Celtic myth and magic. It is the force that unifies the mythology of a place and of a people with the universe as a whole. It is imperative for any exploration of Celtic magic and of Druidry to embrace and be fluent in the language of Awen. It is the Holy Spirit of Celtica.

Awen is imbued within the three sacred drops that explode from the cauldron to transform the innocent Gwion Bach. When Gwion’s transformation leads him to another incarnation in the shape of the prophet Taliesin, he sings of the quality of this flowing spirit of inspiration and wisdom. It is in the poetry of the prophet in the deliciously profound Book of Taliesin that we first encounter the term Awen in written form. Within the poem “Angar Kyfundawt” (which translates as “the hostile confederacy”), we find the following verse:

Awen a ganaf, o dwfyn ys dygaf

Auon kyt beryt: gogwn y gwrhyt,

gogwn pan dyueinw, gogwn pan dyleinw,

gogwn pan dillyd, gogwn pan wescryd.

Gogwn pet pegor, Yssyd y dan vor.13

Awen I sing, from the deep I bring it.

It is a river that flows; I know its might,

I know how it ebbs, and I know how it flows,

I know when it overflows, I know when it shrinks,

I know how many creatures there are under the sea.14

The above and all subsequent references by Taliesin to Awen imply that the attainment of the divine spirit gave the prophet the knowledge of all the worlds and of all existences. “From the deep I bring it,” says the prophet, reiterating that Awen is an integral part of all things and that we swim within its flow. In the above verse and subsequent verses of “Angar Kyfundawt,” Taliesin explains how he knows its extent and flow. He knows of its ebb, how it courses, how it retreats, and how many creatures there are under the sea. The conscious acknowledgment of Awen provided Taliesin with the ability to perceive all things at all times, for all things exist within its flow.

The above piece of poetry creatively expresses Taliesin’s embodiment of Awen in a manner that demonstrates its all-pervasive, omnipresent quality. It exists simultaneously in all things, in all places at all times; it is not bound by the laws of the physical universe, for it exists beneath the fabric of the known, visible universe. It is the building block, the soul of the universe, which acts as a house for the countless spirits that move in and out of the physical dimension. Living, breathing, dying, returning, the ebb and flow of life lives as an expression of Awen, which rises from the depths of the unseen world. The denseness of our human experience can cause us to feel separate from Awen—that we stand alone in this world. Awen heals this condition by confirming that we are a vital aspect of the universe learning about itself. But this process cannot be confined to cerebral or intellectual understanding. For it to move the spirit into lucidity, the essence of Awen must be felt, sensed. One must be utterly immersed in it to experience the connection Gwion Bach initially encounters before morphing into the prophet Taliesin. Initiation is required to be conscious of Awen; as the tales and poem recount: “Ac yna yr ordeiniodd hi drwy gelfyddydd llyfrau Pheryllt i ferwi pair o Awen. (So she took to the crafts of the book of the Pheryllt to boil a cauldron of Awen.)” In the same manuscript, the poet further elaborates that “Mi a gefais Awen o bair Karidwen (I received my Awen from the cauldron of Cerridwen).”15

The implication in the historical manuscripts is that knowledge of Awen, or the ability to know it, must be initialised by a creative process that leads to that act of transformation. This, in turn, is assimilated into cohesion, giving rise to the rebirthing of the individual as the Prophetic Spirit. This does not imply the same form of initiation popularised by modern covens and groves but a personal initiation into the mysteries by proxy of the archetypes involved. One is not being initiated into a group but rather into the heart of Celtic mystery and magic. In the case of our tale, Awen is achieved by brewing a magical potion, the constituents of which swim in the essence of Awen. The ingredients are chosen for their ability to impart upon the initiate the spark needed to embark on a conscious journey into Awen. The latter verse connects Awen to the cauldron of the witch-goddess Cerridwen, and it is her wisdom and the knowledge of the elusive priest caste known as the Pheryllt that initialise the potency of the brew. The fact that Cerridwen embarks upon this journey and can shapeshift at will implies that she is a well-versed and practised initiate of the mysteries of Awen; more on this later.

Earthly components are utilised for the attainment of Awen, for it already exists within them—it is not some far-flung force that exists “out there” in an unfathomable void. The entire tale informs us that the ability to perceive it, conceptualise it, and know it is all around us. We may need the guiding hand of another to show us the way; we may need to consult the instruction of our ancestors as we are in the exploration of the tale in written form. But, fundamentally, Awen is everywhere; we do not need to physically travel anywhere to find it. We need only discover the keys that heighten our awareness of it. You hold such a key in your hands.

For decades, scholars have argued over the origin of Awen: is it a Pagan or a Christian concept? This has mostly been fuelled by a line in Peniarth MS 111. In the Hanes Taliesin section, it states that the three drops of Awen are bendigedig and arise from rat yr ysbryd glan, which translates as “blessed and from the Holy Spirit.” However, the Celtic scholar Patrick K. Ford states that these words appear “to have been added over an erasure; the ink is different, and the letters, though carefully imitative of John Jones’s hand, are different.”16 The rewritten words serve to conceal words beneath the text that read ysbryd proffwydoliaeth, or “the Prophetic Spirit.”

This blatant attempt to conceal a Pagan concept with an overtly Christian sentiment serves to demonstrate the trials these manuscripts have endured through the centuries. We may never know the actual reason why this occurred, but it is intriguing that whoever performed the task did not bank on the scrutiny of the twenty-first century. It may be that the Pagan concept was a threat, or that secret members of the bardic schools strove to hide this material in the prophetic knowledge that future generations would eventually find the truth hidden beneath it.

Further demonstrating the ability of Awen to survive differing ages, conquests, and religions can be seen in its acceptance within the Christian tradition. The National Eisteddfod of Wales movement is, on the surface, a typically Presbyterian affair that celebrates cultural poetic expression and the beauty of language. It is also Christian in nature by proxy of the Welsh Presbyterian Church’s influence in preserving our language. However, the concept of Awen moved along from its Pagan origin and became firmly entrenched in the Christian tradition. To this day, Awen is spoken of and acknowledged as a force worthy of attention and expression. Awen is a gift, a trust that is acknowledged and subsequently expressed by the initiate. But the question remains whether Awen is derived from the Holy Spirit of the Christian tradition or from the bubbling depths of Cerridwen’s steaming cauldron. Seemingly, in Wales at least, both concepts are equally valued. However, within the old chronicles of the Celts and particularly within the works of Taliesin, it is the magical origin of Awen that is celebrated. Within the ancient texts we gain a snapshot of a complex period in time where the Pagan and Christian traditions were, for a time, swimming in and out of each other—each one borrowing from the other, each with its own agenda and motive—yet through all this change and turmoil, Awen survived.

During the latter part of the eighteenth century, Awen was given a symbol to represent its attributions, which has since become recognised and associated with the flowing spirit. It can be seen as the emblem for groves, covens, and orders; worn as jewelry; and adorning the ritual items of the Welsh cultural celebratory body known as the Gorsedd of Bards of the Islands of Britain. The primary source for the symbol comes to us from circa 1792, and it is now widely used as what represents the essence of Awen. The insignia is drawn thusly:

Devised by the genius poet Iolo Morganwg, the father of the National Eisteddfod of Wales and to quite an extent the inspirer of modern Druidic practise, the symbol represents the sun at its various stations. Other references imply that the symbol may be significantly older than the inventions of Iolo Morganwg, with similar symbols appearing in Greece and in Egypt, especially within the Temple of Horus at Edfu. The Welsh monk Nennius also presented a symbol startlingly similar to the Awen of Iolo Morganwg as part of an alphabet in the ninth century. It contains a glyph that resembles the three columns, although they are joined at the top.17 It is said to represent the Latin word ego, which is ascribed the phrase “I am that I am.” Nennius in his Historia Brittonum also uses the term Awen in reference to an individual called Talhaearn Tad Awen (“Iron Brow Son of Awen”), which indicates that the term Awen and its significance was utilised in the early Welsh language, and no doubt for centuries before within the oral tradition.

Lovingly referred to as the three rays, the central ray represents the sun at its zenith during the summer and winter solstices, the left ray the sun at midday on the vernal equinox, and the right-hand ray at noon during the autumnal equinox. These delightful correspondences connect the symbol to the cycle of the sun and the season. The columns are explained by Iolo Morganwg:

Thus they are made; the first of the signs is a small cutting or line inclining with the sun at eventide, thus / ; the second is another cutting, in the form of a perpendicular, upright post, thus | ; and the third is a cutting of the same amount of inclination as the first but in an opposite direction, that is against the sun, thus \ ; and the three placed together, thus .18

Iolo Morganwg also elaborated on the columns by explaining that each one vibrates to a vowel sound that intones the name of the creator. Alas, Iolo was outwardly a nonconformist, yet seemingly, deep down, he was in love with Paganism. The intoning of the vowels of Awen in a Pagan sense can be seen as a manner by which we sing in praise of the universe, and they are sung thusly:

• • The first column resonates to the vowel O (pronounced as a long “oh” sound)
• • The second column resonates to the vowel I
  (pronounced as a long “ee” sound)
• • The third column resonates to the vowel W (pronounced as a long “oo” sound)19

The bardic record shows that it is from the sound of Awen that all language is derived, and that this occurred in response to the utterance of the universe’s voice. In the depth of the infinite chaos, the universe uttered its mighty name. From that utterance all the galaxies, all the worlds, and all life upon them sprang instantaneously into existence with a shout of joy. As the universe sang its name, three blinding shafts of light erupted from its core. Each shaft of light resonating to a sound, which in combination imitates the song of the universe singing in praise of itself. As the universe let free its voice, Iolo offers the following description:

…and with the utterance was the springing of light and vitality, and man, and every other living thing; that is to say, each and all sprang together. And Menw the Aged, son of Menwyd, beheld the springing of the light, and its form and appearance, not otherwise than thus , and in three columns; and in the rays of light the vocalisation—for one were the hearing and the seeing, one unitedly the form and sound; and one unitedly with these three was power…and since each of these was one unitedly, he understood that every voice, and hearing, and living and being, and sight and seeing, were one…20

In the vocalisation of Awen there is great power and mystery. Try intoning the vowel sounds whilst visualising the columns, or rays, of Awen. Feel how they affect and resonate in different parts of your body; sense that you are connecting to a concept that is centuries old. According to the Celtic revivalists, Awen causes us to know truth, to maintain truth, and to love truth. Its primary tenet, which can still be seen on the banners of the National Eisteddfod of Wales, is “The truth against the world,” meaning that within Awen swims the river of pure truth. Iolo Morganwg describes this as

…that is to say, they are called the three columns, and the three columns of truth, because there can be no knowledge of truth, but from the light thrown upon it; and the three columns of sciences, because there can be no sciences, but from the light and truth.21

The Celtic revivalists, in particular Iolo Morganwg, have been scorned over the centuries and even branded forgers, but it can truthfully be stated that without them, modern Paganism and Druidry would have a different face. The likes of Iolo Morganwg gained nothing from their endless collecting, musing, and writing; he was long dead by the time his works came into print. They have inspired not only the love the Welsh have for frightfully long sentences (I am now acutely aware of the length of my own!) but also for exploring the wisdom our ancestors left behind for us to decipher. The old manuscripts and the Celtic revivalists continue to perpetuate the value of the material at hand.

The non-Pagan National Eisteddfod of Wales utilises the three rays alone, whilst the Pagan traditions incorporate a dot above each ray to depict the three sacred drops from the cauldron of Cerridwen, which denotes the origination of Awen within our indigenous mythology. By the simple addition of the three sacred drops, the symbol creates a chain of imagery that directly bonds it to appropriate and relevant myth. This further exemplifies the essential nature and sacred relationship between the tribe and the land. The very act of adding to a symbol, giving it meaning, serves to demonstrate the living, breathing, adaptable nature of the current Pagan traditions. Awen facilitates and encourages maturation and the evolution of traditions that work with it; it is not a stagnant force but an eternally moving stream of energy. Adapting Awen to fit and express modern life has no rules as long as a degree of sagacity and a good smattering of integrity is utilised.

We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep.22

Imagine yourself as one of these islands, a vast stretch of sea seemingly separating you from the person next to you; it is a state we find ourselves in daily—the belief that we are separate from one another and separate from the world and the Divine. Nothing could be further from the truth. Awen connects us to everything: it is the water within the ocean; it is the land that reaches out beneath it to connect all to the other. The mind-boggling and sometimes befuddling world of particle physics and quantum mechanics seems to be exploring concepts that mystics and sages throughout time have long accepted. The current theories of the vacuum state, also known as the zero-point field, describe how, even at minute levels, deep within the fabric of the cosmos, there is vitality, a force, that connects every visible and invisible part of this universe to each other.

Particle physics takes a journey to the dawn of creation and to the point of singularity, to the seconds before the big bang. It explores the magic of creation as the universe became aware of itself and exploded in galactic glory, creating worlds and stars, trees and rivers. Quantum mechanics looks deep into the miniature world, into the space between spaces, where it peers into a singular universe that is a seething mass of energy and potential. The scientific community is suddenly aware of a singular field of energy that connects every possible thing in the universe with one another. In a pseudo- scientific sense this is called the zero-point field, and it demonstrates that ultimately there is no such thing as separation; we all exist within a field of infinite potential.

This field of potentiality gives birth to everything in the universe; when we gaze up at the stars, to other worlds beyond our reach, we stare at the magic of Awen. It holds within itself the memory of the universe in its entirety; swimming within its flow is all the memories of all the worlds since the dawn of time. Everything that can exist, has existed, and will exist is within this field, and we have direct access to it. We are not and never have been separate from it; it is only illusion that keeps us apart. The great thinker and scientist Ervin László gives this field an intriguing title: he calls it the Akashic field or A-field, a term I rather like, and I have adopted the A-field to mean the “Awen field” within my own spiritual practise. According to László, this A-field is “the fundamental energy and information-carrying field that informs not just this universe, but all universes past and present.”23

Deepak Chopra explains that we cannot step out of the ocean of potential, out of the zero-point field, for it contains us and everything else in the universe, known and unknown. We are unable to step outside of it and therefore find ourselves in the same position as a fish attempting to prove that the ocean is wet.24 We have spent so many years under the spell of separation that we find it almost unfathomable to comprehend the concept of oneness, but we can. The mysteries of Awen, the zero-point field, the A-field, or any other name we give it is hidden within our mythologies; we need only seek it out.

Exercise

Awen is the soul of the universe, it is the house of the spirit, and we are an essential component of it. Soul—derived from the Proto-Germanic word saiwalo, meaning “coming from the sea or belonging to the sea”25—gives rise to the exercise that follows. This meditative journey may be performed physically or contemplatively. Ideally it will involve a physical journey to the sea wherein the journey itself becomes part of the overall experience.

Take yourself to a beach; if possible, plan your arrival to coincide with dusk or dawn or midnight to utilise natural liminality as part of the exercise. Be safe; ensure there is someone close by to watch over you. Remove your clothing and walk slowly into the water until you are waist deep. Immerse yourself in the contact between flesh and water: sense the temperature, feel the texture of the seabed beneath your feet. Breathe in tune with the lapping of waves. Extend your arms away from your body, palms outward, and assume the pose of the three rays of Awen: .

Take a deep breath and visualise the central column; a blinding ray of light descends from the sky above you to pierce your body. Hold the image for several seconds. Take another breath and visualise another beam of light at 45 degrees penetrating your body from your neck and down through your right arm. Hold the image for several seconds, and then repeat the visualisation for your left arm. Imagine yourself as the three rays, glowing brightly as the waves embrace your lower body.

Raise your voice and intone the three sacred vowels O, I, and W as directed on page 58. Allow the sound to cascade from your lips and fall into the sea that you stand in. Allow your mind to expand with the sea; acknowledge that you are standing in the same body of water that laps onto the shores of distant lands. It sits frozen at the polar caps and crashes onto the rocks of storm-wracked beaches. You and the sea are as one; it mirrors the quality of Awen. It is in all places at all times. You are not an island that floats isolated; like the seabed at your feet and the briny liquid that laps at your skin, you are a part of all these things. You are Awen singing in praise of itself.

Allow the vowels to resonate for as long as you are immersed in the experience. Then come back to the present, allowing the sound to dissipate and flow into the sea. Bring your awareness back to the present, yet take the immersive quality with you. Walk gently back to dry land, knowing that the sea can teach you the quality of oneness whenever you feel separated. Record your experience in your personal journal.

[contents]

11. A tip to effective pronunciation: ah-when—both syllables are pronounced rapidly, with no accent, to elongate the sound.

12. Bevan, Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru (A Dictionary of the Welsh Language), 240.

13. Evans, Facsimile and Text of the Book of Taliesin.

14. Translated by the author.

15. Excerpt from Hanes Taliesin, Peniarth MS 111, and translated by the author.

16. Ford, Ystoria Taliesin, 133.

17. The manuscript concerned is viewable online at http://image.ox.ac.uk/show?collection=bodleian&manuscript=msauctf432.

18. The Barddas of Iolo Morganwg, 21.

19. To avoid confusion, note that the Welsh language has an additional vowel in the form of W, pronounced as the “oo” in zoo.

20. The Barddas of Iolo Morganwg, 17.

21. Ibid., 67.

22. William James, philosopher.

23. László, Science and the Akashic Field.

24. Chopra, Life After Death, 202.

25. Chambers Dictionary of Etymology.