#Glastonbury goddess temple
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Please like or reblog (ideally reblog so other people in your sphere can find the post) if you post content about any of the following. If you reblog, please say which, or if you just like please reply and say which! I want to be more active on this blog and need people to follow.
- Celtic polytheism (Irish, Welsh, Brythonic, Gaulic, any really)
- Celtic witchcraft and folk magic, particularly Welsh
- British folk traditions
- Druidry
- Proto Indo-European polytheism
- Venus, Aphrodite, Ishtar and Inanna worship
- Actual genuine Wicca as opposed to the random stuff that gets passed off as Wicca in mainstream book shops
- Feri tradition
- Goddess-centric paganism (Dianic tradition, Deanism, Filianism, Reclaiming, Avalonian) and female mysteries
- Arthuriana from a pagan or feminist perspective (or pagan/feminist friendly)
- Sacred sexuality and tantra
- Herbalism, particularly with herbs native to the UK
#paganism#polytheism#Celtic paganism#celtic polytheism#Welsh paganism#Welsh polytheism#dianic witchcraft#Dianic Wicca#Dianic tradition#Dianic#Filianism#Deanism#Avalonian tradition#Avalon tradition#Glastonbury goddess temple#Welsh witchcraft#Celtic witchcraft#Celtic witch#feri tradition#venus*#Aphrodite*#inanna*#Wicca#druidry#reclaiming tradition#divine feminine#goddess worship#goddess religion#mother goddess#witchcraft
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Glastonbury Goddess Temple/Hall, England
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Beltane in Glastonbury, 2024
This week, I went on holiday in Glastonbury to celebrate Beltane.
On May 1st, I woke up at 4am to see the sunrise on Glastonbury Tor. A small crowd was gathering fast, despite a lingering overcast and brisk morning air. The local druids began calling the elements and reciting prayers, and plenty of pilgrims brought their own drums to sing and dance to the sunrise.
I made my way down to Chalice Well afterwards to participate in the fire ceremony, where we gathered around a bonfire for another quick invocation to the elements and some more drumming. Once the embers had calmed down, everyone lined up to jump over the fire for purification.
Chalice Well had its own maypole and live music, but there was a far more impressive procession happening in the high street. It seemed as though the entire town and more had gathered to welcome the May King and Queen! A horde of merrymakers in dress – druids, dryads, green men, red women, wild creatures of all kinds.
The procession carried on all the way along the high street and into the countryside. The May Queen and King led the procession and were flanked by several druids, while the green men carried a several metres long maypole to Bushy Combe, with drumming and chanting from the crowd throughout ("air my breath and fire my spirit, earth my body, water my blood!")
There was another long ceremony for the May Couple before the maypole was erected, and what do you know, more drumming and dancing! I stayed with them for pretty much the entire day. The vibes were excellent.
I thoroughly enjoyed the festivities and seeing the smiles on everyone's faces. I could tell from how much effort the merrymakers put into the festival that this day was truly special to them.
As a mostly solitary practitioner, it can be so refreshing to go out and celebrate with others. It's easy to get stuck in your own head and lose your sense of connection. Over the course of the week I also spontaneously attended a small-group Thelemic ritual honouring Hathor and Apis (an unfamiliar but very fun experience) and visited a few temples and sacred sites around the town. The Goddess Temple, honouring their local deity the Lady of Avalon, felt incredibly peaceful. I found myself relaxing and daydreaming before the Lady's altar for almost 2 hours in one sitting.
At home, I spend at least a little time everyday in ritual, and make weekly strolls around the natural landscapes of my neighbourhood. But at some point it always becomes too... repetitive, stale, and I need something different to regain my perspective on Spirit. Seeing how other people celebrate and live their spirituality was a huge boon and has made me contemplate my approach to my own spirituality.
I highly recommend anyone of pagan inclinations to visit the famous Isle of Avalon. Below encapsulates some of my favourite moments, and there are more photographs and videos of the festival circulating the internet if you want to see what it was like.
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The White Horse, a large turf-cut figure on the hillside at Uffington in Berkshire, is an evocation of Epona, the Celtic Horse-Goddess. Dragon Hill nearby was a Neolithic first-fruits ceremonial site; folklore tells that the white sterile patch on its summit was caused by the execution of the lifegiving Dragon Goddess at the hands of a patriarchal solar-hero. Where her blood fell, nothing will grow.
One such dragon-slayer, or serpent-killing "hero," is St. Michael. Many of the earliest Christian churches in Britain, dedicated to St. Michael, were built precisely on the ancient mounds and high-places of the Great Goddess. In Christian lore, St. Michael was the head chief of a band of angels (read “patriarchal invaders”) that went to war with the Mother Dragon and her people. In folklore, St. Michael is thought to be the successor of Wotan, the Anglo-Saxon god who was a warlike slayer of dragons. In fact, an abnormal number of Christian churches dedicated to St. Michael and St. George, the other British dragon-slayer, are built on high places along the ley-line (or dragon path) that runs from Land's End in Cornwall through the Goddess monuments at Glastonbury and Avebury in southwest England.
Such a St. Michael's church was built on the summit of Glastonbury Tor! . . . but in the year 1300 A.D. it was destroyed by an earthquake. As Elizabeth G. Davis notes, all the Christian male angels were originally the Great Goddess, with her wings. When the image of the Winged Goddess "continued to be engraved on Roman coins, in defiance of the new Christian hierarchy in Constantinople"—who had smashed or taken over all her Roman temples—the Church fathers just changed her name to "the Angel of the Lord," Archangel Michael.
-Monica Sjöö and Barbara Mor. The Great Cosmic Mother: Rediscovering The Religion of the Earth.
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I wanted to post the red dodgeball prophecy meme to make OP feel seen but wasn’t so sure if it was a super common belief that the eagle/call to action/“guy who comes to take you home” was Apollo. Ok hold on.
Solsbury Hill is in Somerset, and the city with lights is Bath.
Like many decent hills in the area it had an Iron Age hill fort. It is calcareous grassland (thin soil over chalk) and has some rare meadow species. Solsbury Hill is in decent striking distance of Glastonbury Tor and the unhinged new age/druid town of Glastonbury, and, in another direction, Stonehenge (and the competing Silbury Hill) but is (confusingly!) nowhere near Salisbury. The names sound the same but are different. something about chalk hills makes certain writers lose their damn minds… but there’s also the local idea that Peter Gabriel like… met Apollo.
It’s said that the deeply weird mythical British king Bladud, known for his careful observation of pigs, progressive attitude towards necromancy, founding of the city of Bath, and his mechanical wings - quite an interesting guy, easily in the top 10 legendary swineherd necromancer engineer kings - dedicated a temple to Apollo (the god of music, inspiration, prophecy and red dodgeballs) on Solsbury Hill, though now that I want to find one, I can only find self-referencing references about this, like this: https://www.akemanpress.com/2017/06/02/view-little-solsbury/
Of course Peter Gabriel only says that he meditated on the hill and was thinking about general stuff, but since he says in the song itself that he was struggling to think of how to explain his experience to everyone who would find him crazy, it ironically just makes the conspiracy theory stronger. That’s just what someone who wrote an Apollo-induced song WOULD say, you see?
(Interestingly; Solsbury Hill may have gotten its name from Sulis, the Celtic goddess of Bath, whom the Romans later sort of co-opted into Sulis Minerva. Her name may have meant “sight.” So even if Apollo wasn’t realistically at home on a hill in England, because that’s a frankly big reach, there was still a potential local deity to speak to Peter Gabriel. Anyway people sometimes sneakily camp on the hill to get hit with the Inspiration. There’s a labyrinth and stuff.)
(Ok so it turns out that this is not at all known so. Like. Apologies for this whole explanation.)
Anyway OP you wanted to feel seen!! here he comes to take you home!!!!
CLIMBING UP ON SOLSBURY HILL I COULD SEE THE CITY LIGHTS WIND WAS BLOWING TIME STOOD STILL EAGLE FLEW OUT OF THE NIGHT HE WAS SOMERHING TO OBSERVE CAME IN CLOSE IIII HEARD A VOICE STANDING STRETCHING EVERY NERVE I HAD TO LISTEN I HAD NO CHOICE I DID NOT BELIEVE THE INFORMATION JUST HAD TO TRUST IMAGINATION MY HEART GOING BOOM BOOM BOOM SON! HE SAID! GRAB YOUR THINGS IVE COME TO TAKE YOU HOME 😭😭😭😭 TO KEEP IN SILENCE I RESIGNED MY FRIENDS WOULD THINK I WAS A NUT TURNING WATER INTO WINE OPENED DOORS WOULD SOON BE SHUT SO I WENT FROM DAY TO DAY THOUGH MY LIFE WAS IN A RUT TIL I THOUGHT OF WHAT ID SAY .. WHICH CONNECTION I SHOULD CUT I WAS FEELING PART OF THE SCENERY I WALKED RIGHT OUT OF THE MACHINERY MY HEART GOING BOOM BOOM BOOM HEY HE SAID GRAB YOUR THINGS IVE COME TO TAKE YOU HOME HEEEEEEYYYY BACK HOMEEEEE WHEN ILLUSION SPIN HER NET IM NEVER WHERE I WANNA BE AND LIBERTY SHE PIROUETTE WHEN I THINK THAT I AM FREE WATCHED BY EMPTY SILLHOUETTEs WHO CLOSE THEIR EYES BUT STILL CAN SEE NO ONE TAUGHT THEM ETIQUETTE I WILL SHOW ANOTHER ME TODAY I DONT! NEED! A REPLACEMENT! ILL TELL THEM WHAT THE SMILE ON MY FACE MEANT MY HEART GOING BOOM BOOM BOOM HEY!!!! I SAID YOU CAN KEEP MY THINGS THEYVE COME TO TAKE ME HOME!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
#bladud was the father of king Lear#the Shakespeare one yeah#and if the wings were attributed to him in his correct time he predated Icarus#by several hundred years!!#they probably weren’t though#because it is unlikely that he was precisely real#and that he precisely built mechanical wings out of feathers 700 years before Icarus.#he probably didn’t found bath#he probably couldn’t talk to dead people#and he probably didn’t#do a lot of things#including breathe#I saw a blog post exploring whether Bladud might be an aggregation or aspect of Daedalus#with the Athena patronages and Apollo dedications matching as well as the mechanical wings#which would be quite funny because king Lear is not Icarus#bladud as both Icarus and Daedalus#sittin in the spa with his pigs#and some thousands of years later people pretend they totally don’t#camp on this hill#to get hit with the songwriting dodgeball
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Glastonbury Goddess Temple
The Glastonbury Goddess Temple is a sacred space in Glastonbury, England that honors the divine feminine in all her forms.
Read more at: https://paganplaces.com/places/glastonbury-goddess-temple/
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The Goddess Temple dressed for Imbolc 2009. Photograph from Glastonbury Goddess Temple.
#religion#new age#goddess religion#glastonbury goddess temple#imbolc#england#united kingdom#europe#divinum-pacis
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Rhiannon
Rhiannon, Goddess of love, beauty and sensuality.
Rhiannon Print by Elluna Art
The following beautiful poem is devoted to Rhiannon, and is on the reverse of the print :
Rhiannon and Pwyll
On this day I have accepted your ring
Come lay with me, my Prince, my King
In sweet grass and fragrant flowers
Feel my warmth and sexual powers
For I am but a maid, dressed in red
As we lie together on our marriage bed
Let me show you the secret of my desire
To stroke the length of your ardent fire
For I am Rhiannon the Goddess of love
Pure and gentle as my winged dove
Our love will be told as Bard’s lore
The day you stood on my father’s Tor
I caught your eye, the sunlight on my hair
As I rode by you on my white mare
You came after me, you did not tarry
And I had decided that we should marry
In my father’s kingdom we were wed
Through sparkling, fairy boughs we were led
We danced with fairies to celebrate our day
Around Beltane fires, on the eve of May
So come lay with me, my Prince, my King
And untold pleasures of love I shall bring.
Rhiannon copyright Nick Phillips
Under a brilliant Beltane sun, Rhiannon, goddess of sensuality becomes the May pole, fertile union of red and white, surrounded by the spirits of the May blossom. Behind her is the Uffington White Horse, emblem of Her sacred animal.
Rhiannon’s themes are movement, communication, rest, ghosts, fertility and leadership. Her symbols are the color white, horses and the moon. This Celtic horse Goddess rides into our festival calendar today on a white mare bearing fertility, leadership, and a means to get things moving where they may have stagnated. Some historians believe the swiftness of Her steed (which is white, a lunar color) alludes to a lunar Goddess. In stories, Rhiannon commands singing birds that can wake spirits or grant sleep to mortals.
Rhiannon Goddess of sensuality and fertility
The great Goddess Rhiannon is a potent symbol of fertility, yet She is also an Otherworld and death Goddess, a bringer of dreams, and a moon deity who is symbolized by a white horse. Her father was Heveydd the Old, and She was married to both Pwyll and Manan. The story of Her marriage to Pwyll, and the subsequent accusation of the murder of Her child, is well documented and most people are familiar with Rhiannon from this tale.
Rhiannon, a British sun goddess, was a fairy princess and ruler of the sun itself.
If, when I said fairy princess your mind jumped to the image of a pretty little butterfly creature fluttering in the flowers like the fairies you see on greeting cards, you can be forgiven.
But you'd be wrong. Dead wrong.
The Goddess Rhiannon Loved Her Job
Rhiannon didn't mind having to get up in the dark to head to the stables before dawn. When she arrived, her horse was already groomed and fed and raring to go. Together they pulled the sun across the sky each day. Sometimes dreams and memories popped into her head while she rode. This one specific morning, it was a dream that was troubling her. Funny that — variations of this dream seemed to appear frequently, but she'd always been able to easily brush it off. But the feeling of this last dream still lingered. She could almost feel the girls still hiding behind the bushes, taunting her, calling her stuck-up and worse. Then they'd giggle and run away before Rhiannon could see who they were.
In the dreams, she'd tell herself, "Silly girls, nothing on their minds but the latest fashions, spreading gossip and flirting with boys. Who are they to judge me?" and she would continue on her way, undisturbed. Rhiannon wasn't about to let this unpleasantness spoil a perfectly fine day. She'd learned long ago that you could control your emotions by replacing a painful thought with one that was positive instead, and that's just what she did.
So, she reached out for the happy memories of times spent with her dad in his library. For a fairy king, he was quite a good scientist, and she'd learned a lot at his side. Oh how she relished those special moments when he praised her for having such a 'fine rational mind"!
The science that she loved best was measurement. Just by understanding the 'mathematics' and the 'physics' of things she could do the most impressive tricks! First, there was the 'Sun Trick’, her absolute favorite. By pulling the sun at just the right speed and the right distance from earth, she could make it look like the sun was much closer to the ground that it really was. The best part of the trick was that it looked as if it was hardly moving at all, even though it was racing through the sky! This was her best trick; she did it so well that it would be years before anyone even suspected it was just an illusion. She could also create a bag large enough to hold a grown man and then fold it in just such a way that it looked just about the size of a woman's purse or a small shopping bag. Maybe someday some brilliant person would figure out the trick of it like she had. But until that day, she enjoyed just having everyone think it was magic
There's a Hero on the Horizon
You'd think it would grow boring doing the same thing day after day but she adored all that time on her own. It allowed Rhiannon to do her best thinking and planning, helping her get organized and ready to spring into action to reach her goals and dreams. As a bonus, it gave her a bird's eye view of current events and a chance to stay well-informed about what the new hero, Prince Pwyll of Dwyfed, was doing. She'd never met him, but she'd certainly been amazed and excited hearing about his noble nature and, most of all, his recent exploits.
He’d had easily proven his ability to govern, but it was his bravery in combat that made her heart skip a beat. His clever adventures left her breathless with admiration for his daring, not to mention his exceptional leadership. Pwyll was definitely the 'Man of the Year' —a genuine hero if ever there was one. Already a prince in his homeland of Dwyfed, now he'd formed an alliance and begun his rule in Annwfn (the Otherworld). He was about to become king in his own right.
So, on that day, the goddess Rhiannon reined in her horse for a brief look, as the sun rolled to a stop just behind her. She was determined to see what was going on down there on earth. Large crowds had formed all over Dwyfed, and the people were cheering wildly. "Just what I expected." she said to herself, thinking of Pwyll, "They're making him their new King. "Prince, hero, King . . . he's earned it all."
"Courageous, wealthy, noble", she counted off on her fingers, "and now king." Yes, Rhiannon was definitely smitten by that man. But there's a fly in the ointment, a bit of a problem she'd have to work around. And soon.
As was traditional in those times, her parents had already arranged for her to wed another man. The marriage contract had been signed, and arrangements for her royal wedding were already underway.
Rhiannon didn't look forward to telling her parents about this change of heart, and this change of plans. It was not going to be easy. She couldn't argue that Gwawl, her fiancé, was unsuitable—he was young, handsome, courteous and wealthy.
No, that wasn't it at all. It was that she wanted to be the one to choose. Her mind was made up—even if it meant she would be defying convention, even if it meant paying a hefty fine for breaking the contract. (although resourceful Rhiannon made a mental note to see what she could do to get out of paying the fine.) Either way, she was resolved it would be Pwyll she would marry, not Gwawl.
Rhiannon was confident. Her parents rarely said no. It wasn't that they'd spoiled her—she'd always been good, met her responsibilities, and done well—she'd earned their trust and support.
The beginning of a plan began to unfold in Rhiannon's keen mind. As everyone knew, when Rhiannon has a plan, before you know it . . . Voila! It's done! "Hmmh, " Rhiannon mused, "I think it's about time I meet the man I'm about to marry."
The King takes A Queen (Or was it the other way around?)
Shortly after becoming king of Dwyfd and the ruler of Annwfn, Pwyll and his companions sat on a great grass-covered mound above the castle. It was believed to be the magical place that covered an entrance to Annwfn, the Otherworld kingdom that lay beneath the earth. (Note: In Celtic mythology the Otherworld is the land of the dead and also the home of the gods and goddesses and other powerful spirits, both the good and the malevolent. Annfwn was like a parallel universe—reflecting the world above, but perfected and luxurious. In archetypal psychology, such a place represents the unconscious mind, chaotic, free from the constraint of being rational, orderly, or bound by rules or convention. )
It had been explained to Pwyll that when a man of high birth sat on that mound, either something monstrous or dangerous would appear or, he would witness a marvel of some sort. You took your chances sitting there—it was something only the brave would dare to do. Pwyll and his men were sitting and hoping for a marvel, of course. And they weren't disappointed. That fateful afternoon, the beautiful Rhiannon rode slowly by, dressed in gold silk that glittered like the sun, calmly pacing on her powerful pale-white horse.
Needless to say, the prince was enchanted. He sent one of his men to follow her and find out who she was and why she'd come this way. The footman soon returned saying he'd been unable to catch up with her before she'd disappeared from sight. They decided to return to the mound tomorrow and try again.
They returned the following day, this time bringing their finest steeds. Once again they failed. The men reported that it was as if her horse's feet scarcely touched the ground and, though she moved slowly and peacefully, the fastest horses in the kingdom could not catch up with her. Pwyll was utterly intrigued. So, he returned the following day, and once more Rhiannon appeared. But no matter how quickly he pursued her, the distance between them always remained the same. When his horse trembled with exhaustion and could go no more, Pwyll called out for her to wait.
Rhiannon halted. But when he drew close, she gently chided him, “It would have been much kinder to your horse��, she teased, “if you had simply asked me to wait much earlier.”
“This was no ordinary woman,” he thought, “This is a woman with a mind of her own and the confidence to speak that mind, quite unlike all the flirtatious young women who overwhelm me with their fawning adoration and praise since I’ve become such a hero.”
"No", thought Pwyll, "this is the kind of woman I want as a partner, someone to truly share the throne, to rule with me as Queen." He had barely managed to catch his breath when Rhiannon, seeming to read his mind, volunteered the information he was really seeking. She told him who she was, and that she had come to find him, seeking his love.
Pwyll’s heart was completely captivated by this forthright woman who commanded his respect.
Rhiannon said that he must wait a year, giving her to time to organize the wedding feast, and then, he should come to her and she would marry him. (For in those days the wedding WAS the feast. There was no special ceremony. Marriages were witnessed as a public 'sitting' of the woman and man together, eating at the feast. They were then witnessed to go into an adjoining bedroom to become lovers, thus sealing the marriage and joining the wealth and resources of their two families.) The arrangements completed, Rhiannon bid him goodbye and departed.
All good things come to those who wait.
One year later, Pwyll presented himself at her father's court as she had commanded. As he and his company rode to her home, the trees suddenly parted before them, clearing a path, closing in behind them when they passed. Three songbirds swooped playfully in the air around them, showing them the way, and singing beautiful music, inducing a deep calm in them. Their first sight of the king's palace stunned Pwyll and his men. Never before had they seen such magnificence! Surrounded by a lake, the castle was built, not of wood or stone, but of pure gold. Its spires soared and glistened into the heavens.
Crowds greeted Pwyll and his men with jubilation. The kingdom had never seen a wedding feast so great as this one. Rhiannon had organized everything, to perfection, that the hundreds of people attending could possibly desire in food, drink, comfort and entertainments. Her household and the guests were both welcoming and merry.
Until . . .Something went horribly wrong.
After the eating and before the bedding, a well-dressed, handsome young man who'd just arrived approached Pwyll courteously, asking for a boon or wedding favor, as was the custom. "Oh yes," responded the groom-to-be, "This is such a happy day for me that I'll give you anything you ask that's within my power."
It was a serious mistake . . . the stranger then calmly asked for Rhiannon herself! Unbeknownst to Pwyll, this stranger was Gwawl, the man to whom Rhiannon had been arranged to marry. Pwyll had fallen into a trap. As a nobleman, he was obliged to honour his promise.
When Gwawl took the seat of the groom-to-be, Rhiannon asked him to allow her a brief moment outside to regain her composure. Away from the wedding party inside, she took Pwyll soundly to task for having been so brash with his words. But having already formulated a plan, Rhiannon then took him aside to direct him on how they could outwit the other man. She cleverly laid a plan so they would appear to comply with Gwawl's request. And this is how Pwyll, following her instructions, managed to trick his rival this time: Disguising himself in raggedy clothes, he came back into the hall and approached the new groom-to-be, Gwawl, to ask for a wedding boon for himself. He asked only for just enough food to fill his little bag and keep him from starving.
Little did Gwawl realize, it was one of the 'magical' bags that Rhiannon had designed. As the servants filled the little bag with food from the feast it never seemed to get any fuller. When Gwawl complained that this beggar was going to consume the entire feast, Rhiannon told him that she'd heard that the only way to end it was for a nobleman with many lands to be bold enough to step inside the bag and stomp on it from the inside. Gwawl, foolishly hoping to be the hero, walked into the bag. Pwyll then flipped the bag and knotted the strings. Now it was Gwawl’s turn to be the one who was trapped!
Rhiannon announced that he would be released only on two conditions: one was that he give her up and not seek revenge. The other that he also pay for her great wedding feast! Gwawl readily agreed to her terms and, leaving the couple with guarantees on the money owed, he left to return home.
The day after the wedding, Rhiannon left with Pwyll, as his equal and his queen, to go to their home in Dwyfed in the west. When they emerged from the great forest and the trees closed behind them, Rhiannon took a moment to glance lovingly behind her. She knew that the entrance to the fairy kingdom was now closed, and that she could never return to her childhood home. She didn't pause for long and seemed to have no regrets.
The arrival of the royal couple was cause for great celebration throughout the land. How enthusiastically she was welcomed by her husband's people! She was much admired for her great beauty and her lovely singing (and, of course, for her great wealth, as she gave rich gifts to all).
But this honeymoon with the people was not to last.
When two full years had passed without Rhiannon becoming pregnant with an heir to the throne, the question of her bloodline —and her fitness to be queen—began to be raised. Pwyll's trusted advisors began to pressure him to take another wife, one that would prove more fertile. Pwyll persuaded them to give the couple more time. He couldn't begin to imagine how lonely it would feel without her at his side advising him, sharing fully in his dreams and visions for the kingdom.
Fortunately, in the next year at May Eve, Rhiannon delivered a fine and healthy son. They were jubilant, but the baby was soon to become the source of great pryder (anxiety/distress) for Rhiannon and Pwyll.
Murder Most Foul
As was the custom then, six noble maidens had been assigned as ladies-in-waiting. They were to stay with Rhiannon in her quarters to look after her and to help her care for the baby during her lying-in.
Although the young women were supposed to sit vigil throughout the night, at midnight they curiously all fell asleep on the job. They awakened to discover that the newborn child was gone. Terrified they would be punished severely for their carelessness, and their families ruined by the scandal, they devised a plan to cast the blame on Rhiannon. After all, she was a Fairy, an outsider, not one of their own people.
So, they killed a hunting hound's puppy, smearing its blood on Rhiannon's face as she slept, and scattered its bones in her bed. When Rhiannon awoke, they brazenly accused the queen of eating her own child. Rhiannon knew that they lied, and she did all she could to persuade them to speak the truth. But they felt she had never been friendly, always proud and aloof, so they felt absolutely no loyalty to her. There was nothing to be done for it. Rhiannon swore her innocence, but her denials could not stand against that of six noble witnesses under oath. Even though he was suffering from his own shock and grief, and against the pleas of his advisors, Pwyll stood by her and refused to divorce her. Instead, he ordered a penance (a self-punishment intended to express repentance for one's wrong-doing).
Rhiannon designed a clever penance for herself (most likely they planned it together, given the strength of their marriage), knowing it would spread her story far and wide. They hoped that eventually, someone might recognize her lost child. So, Rhiannon bore that humiliating punishment without complaint. Rhiannon's penance - for seven years, she must sit at the horse mounting-block by the castle gate, telling all guests the story of her hideous crime. Then she would have to offer to carry them on her back, like a horse, all the way to the castle.
The Beast of Burden
Through the bitter cold of winters and the dusty heat of four summers, Rhiannon endured with great courage and dignity. Her calm, quiet acceptance of her fate was so touching that few accepted her offer to transport them into the castle. The great honor which Pwyll continued to show her also had a profound effect. Every night, he welcomed her to the high table to sit beside him as his queen. Often, he openly sought her considered opinion on matters of state. Theirs was a strong marriage indeed, and the people who had learned to trust their king and his judgment began to soften their opinion about his wife.
Respect for Rhiannon began to spread throughout the country as travellers talked of the wretched punishment and the dignity with which she bore her suffering. In the fourth year of her penance, seven strangers appeared at the gate: a well-dressed nobleman, a young boy, and their retainers. Rhiannon rose to greet them saying, "I am she who killed my only child, and this is my punishment, to sit here and tell my tale to all comers. I must also offer to carry each of you into the court." Aghast, the boy adamantly refused to allow such a thing.
Of Heroes and Homecomings
Is there any way this boy could be their lost son? Who is he, that the adults in his presence took his opinions and directions so seriously? You certainly have a right to ask. The newborn babe disappeared only four years ago, but this young boy clearly seems to be on the cusp of manhood, seemingly about 12 years of age or so. How could he possibly be their lost son? What you need to understand is that this child grew as a hero-child, at triple the speed of an ordinary child. There were others who, like him, were semi-divine and had done the same.
Here's how this was described in one translation of the Mabinogi, the oldest stories on record in Britain, tales that are full of myths and legends:
The child was brought up in the court until he was one year old. And before [the end of] his [first] year he was walking steadily, and was stronger than a three-year old boy of the greatest growth and size. And [after] he had been raised for another year, he was as sturdy as a six-year old boy. Before the end of the fourth year, he was striking deals with the stable lads to be allowed to lead [the horses] down to water.)
Having politely declined Rhiannon's invitation to have her carry them, the visitors walked to the castle instead. As noble, guests they were seated at the high table for dinner. Their hosts were certainly welcoming and polite, but it seemed that the table itself was enshrouded with gloom—all there were sad and quiet, still mourning the lost baby prince and Rhiannon's public shaming. But all that would change when the visitor, Lord Tyrnon, told their tale. Upon hearing their story, Rhiannon instantly knew that this boy was her son, especially when she saw that he carried a small scrap of golden silk, a remnant of the gown her babe had worn, embroidered by her own hand.
The story the visitors told was a strange one, but all who heard knew it to be the truth.
This story went like this:
The Badger and the Monstrous Claw
"My favorite mare had given birth on the eve of May every year. Each time the foal would mysteriously disappear before I woke and had a chance to see it. So, on May Eve four years ago", he said, "I brought the mare into my hall to care for her when she started into labor."
It was a good thing, too. Lord Tyrnon was forced to fight a fearsome monster when, at midnight, a monstrous claw came through the window, grasped the newborn foal and began to ferociously pull it through the window. Later, when Tyrnon returned from chasing the monster away from the house, he heard cries and found an infant lying abandoned by the door, wrapped in gold silk. (Sometimes when this tale is retold, a curious possibility is raised—that the monster he fought was actually the insulted badger lord who had interrupted Rhiannon's wedding feast and now was taking his revenge by kidnapping her son.)
Since Lord Tyrnon's wife had been unable to bear a child, they welcomed the foundling. The couple decided to keep the baby as their own, and she mothered him lovingly. A few years later, the rumors of Rhiannon's fate reached the lord's ears, and he suddenly recalled how very much the boy looked like the famous king Pwyll. In that moment, he knew what had happened, and what he should do about it. Lord Tyrnon was known as a good man. But first, he needed to confer with his wife. Like Pwyll and Rhiannon's, their marriage was a true partnership based on shared values and mutual respect.
He dreaded this discussion nonetheless, knowing full well that it would break her heart. He trusted his wife enough to know she'd also understand that there was only one right thing to do, painful as it would be. So, with his wife's blessing, he'd set out to return the child to his birth-parents. The truth being told, the pall is broken and the kingdom once more can thrive.
Soon the story, and the news that the King and Queen's son was alive and had returned, spread throughout the countryside. Now everyone saw the striking resemblance and recognised the boy was truly Pwyll's son. Rhiannon was restored to happiness and Pwyll's steadfast faith in her had been vindicated. This was great cause for celebration. The pall that had hung over the kingdom had finally lifted . . . the healing had begun.
A brief glimpse into the future.
And what was to become of the son, Pryderi? He was reared as the heir to the throne and grew up to be a famous hero as well. Following the death of Pwyll, Rhiannon often participated in the adventures of her famous son and eventually remarried.
Lessons of the Goddess Rhiannon
The story of Rhiannon reminds us of the great power of female will and determination. It speaks of loving loyalty, clever planning, and dignity in adverse circumstances. It also gives us a glimpse of how women took command in history. In spite of men 'being in charge', it was possible for women to get their way and to manage money and resources in their own right.
#rhiannon#celtic gods#glastonbury goddess temple#druidism#druidic#druidry#goddess of love#goddess of fertility#goddess of sensuality#the mabinogion#pwyll#pwyll and rhiannon#druidisme#mythologie celtique#celtic#celtic mythology#celtic paganism#celtic wicca#pagan wicca#paganism#witches#witches on tumblr#beltane#beltaine#maypole#celtic goddess
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Glastonbury goddess temple
#magick#traditional witchcraft#witch#witch community#witchcraft#ancestral witches#glastonbury#goddess#goddess temple#goddess altar
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The Triple Goddess
Honouring Maiden, Mother and Crone aligning with phases of the moon. The Triple Deities that are worshipped as one in various belief systems. Bit of info to peruse here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triple_deity here https://wiccaliving.com/wiccan-triple-goddess/ and here https://www.encyclopedia.com/religion/legal-and-political-magazines/triple-goddess I just finished the album – Goddess 2.…
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#blogger#claudine west#composer#earth tree healing#glastonbury#goddess#goddess temple#musician#neopaganism#New Age Music#paganism#triple goddess#vlog#wicca#witch
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I’m literally leading a meeting for one of 3 exclusively female goddess cults in my town alone this afternoon. And all 3 groups love each other and work together. And to show diversity, none of these 3 groups are any of the above mentioned traditions, or any flavor of Wicca, so there are a TON of options out there for ya.
Matreum of Cybele, NY
Temple of Goddess Spirituality, NV
Glastonbury Goddess Temple, UK
Temple of Diana, Cali
And more ✨
we need a goddess religion secret society i'm not kidding. a closed group in which we provide each other goddess-originated esoteric secrets and practices would be valuable beyond measure
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Glastonbury Goddess Temple
The Glastonbury Goddess Temple is a sacred space in Glastonbury, England that honors the divine feminine in all her forms.
Read more at: https://paganplaces.com/places/glastonbury-goddess-temple/
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Around a decade or more ago Georgi Mishev came alive in my life through images on Facebook, and soon after he became one of the contributors to the anthology Hekate: Her Sacred Fires which brought together essays by dozens of people from around the globe who had experiences or visions of the Goddess Hekate they were willing to share for the benefit of others. Three years later I organised the 2013 Hekate Symposium in Glastonbury (Somerset) and was delighted when Georgi agreed to make the journey from Bulgaria to do the opening ceremony and be one of the speakers that year. In 2015 I had the pleasure to visiting Georgi in Bulgaria, and not only participating in an Autumn Equinox ceremony at an ancient Thracian rock sanctuary high in the Rhodope mountains but also visiting many ancient temples as well as the site where he hoped – and has since realised – to build a temple to the Gods. But perhaps more importantly, I got to meet his legendary Grandmother, but that is definitely another (very memorable) story!
#thracian#georgi mishev#sorita d'este#magical#pagan authors#avalonia books#hekate#great goddess#folk magic
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Lady of Avalon by Jonathan Minshull for Glastonbury Goddess Temple. [source]
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