By accounts received so far the
recent Dion Fortune Seminar at Glastonbury was a great success and already
plans are afoot to continue the tradition. The occasion only marred by the sad
news that Michael Howard, editor of that remarkable journal, ‘The Cauldron’ is no longer with us –
and by extension the journal too! By way of a farewell memoriam I append a few ideas
I had back in 1999 about cauldrons and the power that might be found within
them.
When we speak of magic we do not mean
a bizarre indulgence in some fantasy world that promises to provide some means
of escape from reality. Nor do we mean a mental toolkit to gain power or influence
over others by dubious methods of applied psychology. True magic is something
that lies at the very heart of human consciousness and the expression of the
human spirit in an evolving universe.
Some of the
subject matter of true magic may seem somewhat strange when we come upon it for
the first time. Yet as we progress, certain topics turn up again and again,
regrouping in various ways. These recurring topics refer to a complex of
mysteries that includes concepts such as:
a) the place of
the Earth among the Stars,
b) Power within
the Land,
c) Divine and
Sacrificial Kingship,
d) the Poetic
Inspiration of the Bard,
e) the Principle
of Sovereignty.
Our use of capital letters signifies
that we mean something rather more than is commonly implied by these
astronomical, cultural or geophysical terms
Some of these
ideas might seem easier to understand if put in psychological terms. We might
regard them, say, as structures of archetypes in the collective unconscious –
whether of races or of nations, or ultimately of humanity as a whole. After
all, the terms of psychology are more familiar to most modern readers than
those of ancient magic.
However,
although psychology may give a rough approximation of what true magic is all
about, its assumptions tend to promote some serious misunderstandings. For in
terms of magic, psychological labels are at best half-truths. They confine us
to a self-imposed “psycho-sphere” that is itself the product of physical brain
consciousness. A prison house of the skull.
When we speak
of magic we speak of a far wider world, and not one that is simply subjective,
or even telepathically shared. The psychic and spiritual worlds are supremely
objective – as objective as the Earth itself. As objective as its rivers,
lakes, seas and mountains, and the stars and planets in the vibrant space that
surrounds the globe in which we live and move and have our being.
The physical
shell of the universe is investigated, catalogued and manipulated by physical
science and technology. But resonating within and beyond it are the psychic and
spiritual worlds that embody consciousness in many different modes and forms.
These concern
not only the psychic and spiritual elements of the human, animal, vegetable and
mineral kingdoms but extend into realms that may commonly be regarded as
fantasy. They have their ancient roots of exposition in folklore and in myth –
which are none the less potent today, presented through popular fiction via the
media. They are preserved in traditions embracing our own ancestors, whether
near or remote in time; in tales of the worlds of faery, “the lordly ones” who
dwell in the hollow hills; and in religious beliefs incorporating heavenly
messengers and angelic choirs.
There is
nothing new in any of this. It is no recently hatched fantasy fiction.
Beneficent beings and spirits of nature and of the starry firmament were well
known to the ancients, and it was by a strange quirk of human nature that the medieval
church elected to demonise them. Unfortunately, in our cocksure faith in the
wonders of science and technology, we have gone to the other extreme. With
sceptical rationality have very efficiently banished them.
This does not
mean that these wondrous realms have been destroyed. It simply means that we
have adopted the defence mechanisms of the ostrich and voided them from our own
sight and consciousness. The discipline of magic is a means of withdrawing our
heads from the sand and looking around at a wider world. Hopefully, even
communicating with it.
Communication,
however, requires a common language. The vocabulary of which is contained in
the characters, objects and events of myth and of legend, or in metaphysically
loaded symbols. Much of what is left of the ancient commerce between the worlds
is now fragmented folklore. It is as if a once universal language remains only
in isolated pockets of local dialect. Is this perhaps the true meaning behind
the story of the tower of Babel and the confusion of tongues?
There have
been many attempts to fashion some kind of common language between the outer
and inner worlds. One example is to be
found in alchemy. In particular the acrostic VITRIOL to represent the idea of a
“universal solvent”. It stands for “Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando
Invenies Occultum Lapidem” which we might render as “Visit the interior of the
Earth to find and rectify the hidden stone.”
Even so this
may be difficult for us to comprehend, confined as we are within our concrete intellectual
bunker. Nonetheless, the solidity of the concrete is gradually crumbling. Some
have deplored this tendency as “a flight from reason”. However the flight is
one of eagles not of fugitives. We do not seek to escape from reason, but
merely to put it in its proper place. To see it as a mental tool whose use may
be better understood from a higher and wider perspective.
There is a
useful Celtic term that pertains to this: “Awen” – which might be translated as
Inspiration. In its fullness however, it is untranslatable in a single word. It
signifies a kind of irradiation of the soul from paradisal origins, which in
turn depends on what we may understand
by Earthly or Heavenly Paradise.
Our
descriptions and definitions can only be rendered in poetic terms. Hence the
importance of the Bard. And in bardic language the source from which this Awen
or inspiration rises is the Cauldron of the Underworld, of Annwyn, or, in alchemical terms, “the interior of the
Earth”.
This has its
later cultural manifestation as the Holy Grail. In classical times it saw the
sun god Apollo surrounded by the Nine Muses around the Pierian Spring. Apollo
also, of course, was patron of the oracle at Delphi, to which the wisdom of
inspiration ascended from the inner earth, emanating from a dragon power. The
dragon, known as Ladon, originated in the far west, to which various heroes
went in search of various inspirational treasures that were kept by various
guardians, from the head of the Medusa, to the golden apples of Atalanta. There
are many ways by which we may approach this fount of inspiration. Indeed, left
to the speculations of the concrete mind, they may seem to lead us only into an
encyclopaedic labyrinth.
Yet an Ariadne’s
thread to lead us to the source has been preserved in the Celtic folk soul.
This is not the only vehicle of inner wisdom, but nonetheless is one of the
most evocative guardians of the lost and ancient tradition.
The Celts
provide an immediate bridge that leads to a very ancient world. They preserved
much of the traditions of the Bronze Age beaker people, and beyond them of the
Neolithic builders of stone and wooden circles and burial mounds. Behind these,
yet again, some believe there to be an even more ancient wisdom – derived, it
is conjectured, from the lost world of Atlantis. The existence of that world
may not conform to modern scientific theories but scientific theories do not
extend to the provinces of Annwn.
At the same
time it was Celtic bards who laid the foundation for the knightly legends of
the high middle ages. Most of what has come down to us as Arthurian Tradition
was seeded by Celtic bards who, leaving Wales and Cornwall for Brittany, after
the Saxon invasions, sought service with Frankish lords, and provided the tales
that informed the Arthurian romancers of twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
Chrétien de
Troyes, Robert de Boron and others, wove them into tales of Merlin, Arthur,
Lancelot and Guenevere, the Lady of the Lake and the Questors of the Grail.
Later Sir Thomas Malory rendered these tales in Old French into the English
tongue, his works being one of the first great volumes from Caxton’s printing
press. So if we find our imagination stimulated by Arthurian tales, we may get
closer to their origins by a studying their ancient roots, and the Celtic
inspiration which lies directly behind the medieval French.
Fortunately no
knowledge of ancient Welsh is required, thanks to Lady Gregory, who translated
what has become known as The Mabinogion, and to later scholars for
surveying the ground with more scholarly vigour. Furthermore, many clues have
been given us as to where to pan for true gold in these remote mountain streams
of wisdom.
We may cite
Robert Graves, (The White Goddess),
R.J.Stewart, (The Underworld Initiation,
Earth Light, Power within the Land, The
Prophetic Vision of Merlin etc.), Caitlín Matthews, (Mabon and the Mysteries of Britain, Arthur and the Sovereignty of
Britain, etc.), John Matthews (Taliesin),
and most recently Awen, the Quest of the
Celtic Mysteries by Mike Harris, who presents an account derived from
magical field work in his native Snowdonia.
Despite its
cosmic resonances, it is not a tradition of
remote metaphysical abstractions. It speaks in terms of the relationship
of people to the land upon which they live. It speaks of the inspired songs and
stories of the minstrels and the bards. It speaks of great kings and heroes. It
speaks of wondrous hallows and consecrated objects. It speaks moreover of the powers
of the inner Earth and the hollow hills. Of
the faery tradition. Of the Earth’s relation to the stars. Above all it speaks of
the great game of life played out on the chequer board of daily experience,
known as the chess like game of Gwyddbwyll, (approximately pronounced as gweeth-buth), which also signifies the
land.
The general
public has an intuitive realisation of the current importance of these things.
This is largely undefined, coming through instinctive channels. It is expressed
in cultural terms by the explosion of interest in stone circles and other
ancient sites. Time was when I can remember visiting Stonehenge and having the
place to myself; likewise Avebury. No
chance of that now!
Fortunately it
is not essential to confine one’s esoteric interests to famous sites. There are
many other places of power, untouched by commercial exploitation. The important
point is that the universal may well be found within the locality, even, if you
are lucky, within your own back yard.
This is simply
a down to earth demonstration of the philosophical axiom that the microcosm is
a reflection of the macrocosm. In its ultimate sense, this is to see the world
in a grain of sand, as the modern bard William Blake proclaimed. Less
rigorously, a postage stamp of land can contain the pattern of the greater
universe. A recent book, The Star Mirror, (by Mark Vidler, Thorsons
1998), has analysed this in relation to the pyramids of Gizeh and the stars of
Orion, amongst other locations and constellations. Mike Harris has found
similar effects in the lakes and mountains of Wales.
Much the same
local discovery was made by the pioneer anthropologist W.Y. Evans Wentz. He
crossed the American continent and the Atlantic Ocean to research The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries.
Having produced this book he proceeded to the Himalyas, and over thirty years
established himself as a world authority on Tibetan Buddhism with translations
and commentaries on The Tibetan Book of
the Dead and other major texts. In the evening of his days he went back to
the place whence he had started, and found wisdom back home in San Diego
county, California, on Cuchama, a local sacred mountain. Yet this is no
parochial matter, the focus is universal.
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