Cauldron of Cerridwen – Feminism and Religion

Water Dance by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

A woman’s water breaks before she gives birth. Holy water confers blessings. Water is the purifying agent of baptism. When we’re “in the flow,” we’re being creative. Water is often depicted with qualities that signify life and healing. But water is also violent and destructive.

Think of what Hurricane Katrina did to New Orleans in 2005, and Superstorm Sandy to the Northeast in 2012. The movement of the Earth shapes these violent tempests. Earth is in perpetual orbit and rotation thereby continuously invigorating the air and waters.

There is a mythological vision of a defined space where the mixing of elements occurs. It is a cauldron. Magical cauldrons contain the raw materials that are necessary for the creation and sustenance of life. Our precious Earth can be considered The Grand Cauldron of Creation, a vessel encircling all these elements. Add in motion, or agitation, or rotation and you not only get storms, but the recipe for genesis.

The Wisdom of Cerridwen: Transforming Her Cosmic Brew by H. Bryon Ballard

Moderator’s Note: This is the Preface to the recently published anthology, The Wisdom of Cerridwen: Transforming Her Cosmic Brew.

Cerridwen, ancient Queen,
Dark Mother, take us in.
Cerridwen, ancient Queen,
Let us be reborn.
—a Reclaiming chant

Open these pages and relish the words of this divine Mother, this wild Sister, this trickster and keeper of the Cauldron of Eternity! Spend time with Her. Learn Her sacred ways, Her stories, Her lore.

I learned the chant above at the Glastonbury Goddess Conference where I taught several years ago. I often use it in both my private meditations and in public rituals. It is simple but direct, quite unlike the Goddess it honors. I learned how to pronounce Her name from a Welsh-speaking colleague who gave it a rolling “r” and an emphasis on the second syllable. Keh-RRRHID-wen. Try it. So delicious to say.

Cerridwen’s Cauldron; Stealing from Old Mother Universe by Kelle ban Dea

Catherine Kay Greenup, blue well
Unsplash stock

The story of how Cerridwen, the witch goddess, brews a magic potion full of awen (inspiration) which is then accidentally imbibed by the boy Gwion Bach, is well loved across the Western world, especially by neo-Druids. Gwion Bach is then reborn as Taliesin, the greatest bard in Britain. It is a typical heroes tale, with Cerridwen as the muse and initiatrix.

Or is it? This tale has always left a funny taste in my mouth, and when I recently read The Broken Cauldron by Lorna Smithers, I understood why. In the oldest version we have of this tale, Gwion Bach doesn’t accidentally taste the awen. He steals it.

Sometimes You Can Go Home Again. . . Because I Did by Elisabeth Schilling

I am tired and a bit emotionally exhausted, yet hopeful and in calm spirits as I have returned from my 8 months of traveling through Europe. I left in a rather dramatic impulsivity with little planning other than to leave the States for as long as I could and focus on writing poetry. I suppose I wanted to stay indefinitely, but now I realize that there are good and bad elements to everywhere.

In Basque Country, the beaches were beautiful but you might have to sunbathe in clouds of burning cigarette smoke because everyone seems to be lighting up everywhere you go. In Sicily, the history and fashion and food are intoxicating, but a lot of the buildings are crumbling and the landscape is parched in many places. In Ireland, it is green and lush, every corner a fairytale, but in the town centers, the air in winter is suffocating with the smoke of coal burning in houses as if it were London in the 1800s so much that I mostly refused to walk outside where I stayed. Continue reading “Sometimes You Can Go Home Again. . . Because I Did by Elisabeth Schilling”

The Nine Maidens by Deanne Quarrie

Deanne Quarrie, D.Min.

Many years ago, in the group of women I work with, we all had a marvelous epiphany. It was spontaneous combustion that fueled our collective desire to learn about the “Nine Maidens.” It was as though some unknown force was driving all of us to seek out and to know.

I would like to share what we collected:

“… My poetry, from the cauldron it was uttered. From the breath of nine maidens it was kindled….”
“… yg kynneir or peir pan leferit. O anadyl naw morwyngochyneuit.”
(Preiddeu Annwn or The Spoils of Annwyn from ‘Llyfr Taliesin’ 9th to 12th c. CE.)

Anadyl = breath
Naw= nine
Morwen= maiden

These lines are from the poem, the Spoils of Annwyn, where Arthur and seven knights raid the rotating island fortress of Caer Sidi in the Otherworld for possession of the Cauldron of the Head. Continue reading “The Nine Maidens by Deanne Quarrie”