Taliesin; Transfigurative Poet

Wales has a number of figures, both in history and legend, who stand so tall, their story is told across the world. Taliesin is one of those, especially with his many incarnations – from ugly boy to the ‘chief of poets' across more than a thousand years.

The earliest place you can find  a written reference to this magical poet, is in the Historia Britonum (The History of the Britons). This account of the Ancient Britons was written around 828 CE, his name is among a list of honoured poets.

'Branwen' by Christopher Williams 1915

In the Mabinogion, it is made clear that he is poet at the court of King Arthur, firstly in the story of Cullwch and Olwen (which you can read about here), where Arthur and his associates helps Cullwch gain Olwen’s hand in marriage. Perhaps even earlier he is described as a survivor of the disastrous battle  between Ireland and Wales, over Branwen, daughter of Llyr, King of all Britons. Her brother, Bendigeidfran (Bran the Blessed or  blessed crow) took an army across the Irish Sea to bring her back from captivity. Only seven of the Welsh army returned with Branwen; one of those was Taliesin. It’s possible that this story is of Iron Age origin, or even earlier, at least five hundred years before Arthur was said to rule Briton. 

The story of Taliesin’s nativity, found also in the Mabinogion, may be even older, and it is that story we turn to when we think of Taliesin’s magical, transfigurative  being. It may be so old, that it refers to very ancient and lost gods, such as 'Afagddu the Dark', 'Morfran, the Great Sea Crow', Tegid Foel, tutelary deity  of Llyn Tegid (Lake Bala), and Ceridwen, the Fair Bard, goddess of the cauldron of transformation. 

Taliesin can’t live in the Bronze Age, the Iron Age, and the 5th century BCE all at the same time, can he?  Unless, that story of his birth holds a clue to what is happening here. 

Lake Bala

On the shores of Lake Bala in Mid Wales, Ceredwin lived with her husband Tegid
Foel. They had two children; a girl, who was the most beautiful every seen, and a boy, who was stupid and ugly. Ceredwin was a great witch and enchantress, and she used her cauldron of transfiguration to boil up a magic potion which would make Afagddu both wise and handsome. She employed an old man and a young boy to stir the cauldron for a year and a day, until the first three drops were ready to create the magical transformation. Gwion Back stirred and stirred for all that time, getting more bored and restless as the year wore on. Finally, at the moment, the brew was ready, he become so careless with his stirring that the first three drops fell upon his hand. He instinctively put his hand to his mouth to stop the burning, and in a flash became wonderful to look at, knew all there was to know, and accomplished in magical ways. 

The Radiant Brow

Ceredwin roared with horror and anger and chased after him. He fled, and quickly turned himself into a hare to increase his speed. But Ceredwin could also shape-shift and turned herself into a dog. And this continue, around Lake Bala and across the land – fish – otter. Bird – hawk. Finally, Taliesin came to a granary. Cleverly, he transformed into a grain of sand. Ceredwin was surely hoodwinked now! Until she transformed into a hen, and pecked her way though the grain until she’d swallowed him up. 

This is where the ultimate magic begins, that allows Taliesin to be one of the most transfigured figures in magical history. From poor servant through many animals into the womb of a powerful goddess; surely nothing could stop him now. But as soon as he was born, Ceredwin was determined to kill this usurper. 

Perhaps even Ceredwin could not completely bring herself to murder her own beautiful baby, because she took the infant and placed it in a skin bag (possibly a coracle) and cast it onto the water,  giving him ‘a lucky chance’ to survive. The bag washed up on the Dyfy (Dovey) River, where the annual salmon catch was taking place.

Aberdyfy

Looking for salmon was a most unlucky prince. Elffin ap Gwyddno, son of the Lord of Ceredigion, who had sent him salmon hunting in the hope of improving his luck, but so far, Elffin had found none. He opened the bag, hoping someone else had left their catch behind, and discovered it contained a baby boy of exquisite beauty. ‘Behold, Taliesin – the radiant brow!’ he exclaimed. As the rode back to his father, the baby began speaking beautiful poetry, claiming that Effin would defeat his enemies and change his luck.Of course the prophesy came true, and Taliesin became the famous poet of so many eras and generations. 

 Very ancient fish traps made from timber and stone has  been found across the globe. Good examples of fish traps at least 1,000 years old can also be found on the Teifi estuary, and the Towy estuary where recent exploratory dive revealed an ancient trap 1m wide, protruding 30cm above the underwater sand. There may well have been an ancient fish trap at Aberdyfy. 

fish trap discovered on the Towy

As Bard of King Arthur's retinue, his stories range wide. He appears both in the Welsh Triads and in the medieval Arthurian tale Breuddwyd Rhonabwy as well as Hanes Taliesin and the Mabinogion. 

According to the Dream of Rhonabwy

A sample from the Red Book of Hergest,
telling the story of the Dream of Rhonabwy

, retold in the Mabonigion, Taliesin had a son, Afaon, who fought alongside Arthur at the Battle of Badon as one of his chief counsellors, ‘the wisest and most accomplished in the kingdom’.

By the 6th century CE, it was said that Taliesin was the son of Saint Henwg of Caerlleon upon Usk, and was resident bard at the court of King Arthur of Caerlleon.

 Later, Taliesin made a prophecy about the fate of Britons which still has resonance today.

Their Lord they shall praise,

Their language they shall keep,

Their land they shall lose –

Except wild Wales.

The Book of Taliesin (Llyfr Taliesin) dates from the first half of the 14th century though many of the fifty-six poems it preserves are taken to originate in the 10th century or before. There is an  introduction to Rowan Williams's translation of The Book of Taliesin suggests that later Welsh writers came to see Taliesin as a sort of shaman. His poetry shows how he can not only channel other entities and the Awen,  but that writers can in turn channel Talliesin's magic ability to transform. We can work with Taliesin to experience shapshifting, shamanic herbalism and of course, to write our own poems.

His poems are a mystic and mysteriously transformational as his story:

I have been a multitude of shapes,
Before I assumed a consistent form.
I have been a sword, narrow, variegated…

Finding your Lorica – a Prayer for Protection.

THE KEEPER OF THE LORICAS

We often share our shamanic journey experiences when in circle. I've also found  it's appreciated when I share the notes I take on my journeys with others So this series will document journeys I've experienced in the past. All these journeys will be found the the  SHAMANISM PAGE.           This journey was taken in April 2000.

All the great Irish saints had their Lorica; a song or verse that could be recited as a prayer to

https://www.learnreligions.com/the-breastplate-of-saint-patrick-542668

protect from, harm, either physical, emotional or spiritual. Sometimes, the verse is also called the 'breastplate' as in this, the breastplate of St Patrick. 

Sometimes called a Caim,  a word with a Scottish root meaning loop, the Lorica or Caim conjures an image of a sanctuary. It is created when in fear, danger or distress, by using one's hand to form a circle around oneself,  while reciting the verse.

The  St. Columbain Caim goes thus:

Be to me a bright flame before me

Be to me a guiding star above me,

Be to me a smooth path below me,

Be to me a kind shepherd behind me,

Today, tonight, and forever.

At a Shamanic Gathering, we we all asked to journey to find ourselves a Lorica, 

 I began, as always in my home circle, the stream running to the south, the waist-high stone in the middle of it, the yews and oaks all around. I walked east, through a thicket of hazel, and quite quickly came to a wide lake. There was a concrete causeway stretching out onto it. As I climbed up onto it, a  naked man barred my way – he looked rather like 'The Thinker'.

  "I seek a Lorica," I told him.

He stepped out of my way, and I found I was in a room, or rather a hut, as there were outdoor windows in each wall. On a chair were four red rods, each about a foot long. They slipped away from me as I reached for them, disappearing from the room, but I intercepted each one, and held them strong. Each was different, but each held a power, I could feel it through my grasp.

I knew my Lorica would start with the word 'Power', and that each rod would be a verse. I sat down on the chair and held each one in my hands individually.

After some time, I started to 'get' my Lorica. I had to hold tightly onto it, by clutching the rods. I needed to get to my home circe and return to the apparent world so I could write it down. Outside the hut, it was thick woodland. In the distance, I saw a bridge, and made for it.  The Thinker appeared again, his face blocking my entire vision.        

   "I need payment for you to cross."

   I only had my rods. I looked at them. One was a jewel-encrusted rod, the thickness of a baby's arm. The next had a 'beaked' end. The third was shorter, and shaped like a bare bone. The fourth seemed to be a branch of eucalyptus, it's bark peeling away.  I handed the man the fourth branch. 

 "I need payment on paper."

I didn't understand him, but he stripped the thin bark from the rod and handed it back; now it was fully striped and beautifully white. 

I hid my rods in my hazel thicket, and sat on my central rock, until the call-back signal came, allowing the Lorica to form in my mind. 

When I returned to the group, I wrote it down:

POWER in our springtime  

    sap rising

    no mountain is too tall

POWER in our summer days

    resting after labours

    we hear the children play

POWER in our autumn 

    the land ripe and golden

    ready for the harvest

POWER in depths of our winter

    for only when the earth is cold and bare

    can we detect the small, green shoots of spring.