Pwyllog
Mountain dark with wind weather. Black wings beat;
a fleet, so sure flyer
angling forth dancing feather.
Holding sublime, free climber – crow in play,
high sway in half-hover,
wing moving with the mover.
Air unveiled, rising revealer – crow art,
the wind-heart’s surrender;
when you make, know the maker.
In the medieval Welsh tradition, the term awenydd generally meant a bard, someone who had been formally trained in the guild arts of Welsh poecy. At times the word is used in medieval poetry to imply the performing bard is evoking a poetic fervour, a trance brought on by the pounding rhythms of incantatory verse. High-ranking court bards of 12th century Wales apparently believed that awen arose from Annwfn, the world-within-the-world, to fill the awenydd with inspiration. This was a divine breath drawn from the depths of reality, the deep inside the world, the source of visionary insight and imagination.
But there is a hint in the wider tradition that Annwfn is also the place where the shades of delusion lurk. The First Branch of the Mabinogi suggests those entering the world-within-the-world should be careful. During his sojourn in Annwfn, Pwyll forgoes taking advantage of a mysterious goddess, an act that would have come so naturally to a more mindless man. The tale suggests this enigmatic queen could either be approached mindfully or mindlessly, the choice was Pwyll’s, as were the consequences.
Had Pwyll behaved as if Annwfn were a playground of mindless distraction he may well have suffered the same fate as many who have happened upon the fairy realm. It would have been so easy for him to loose himself in all of that shining luxury, fulfilling his wildest dreams night after night. But at the end of the year, this surely would have left him weakened and distracted for the task he was honour-bound to perform: his battle at the ford, not only against Hafgan but against entanglement in perpetual, mindless violence. The suggestion is he would never have left that deep place alive had he simply accepted the perceived fantasy. Pwyll’s survival was due to his natural distrust for the glamour that so easily exhausts the will. As his name suggests, he was naturally pwyllog (‘thoughtful, wise, cautious, mindful’).
In reductive terms we could say the imagination can either provide creative insight or degraded fantasy, depending on how it is used. Pwyll set aside the self-indulgence of fantasy so as to respect the integrity of Annwfn’s queen, upholding Annwfn’s sovereignty in more ways than one. In this, Pwyll may well have exemplified the attitude of the Welsh awenyddion to Annwfn and the awen, the fruit borne of that land.
GMB
Mountain dark with wind weather. Black wings beat;
a fleet, so sure flyer
angling forth dancing feather.
Holding sublime, free climber – crow in play,
high sway in half-hover,
wing moving with the mover.
Air unveiled, rising revealer – crow art,
the wind-heart’s surrender;
when you make, know the maker.
In the medieval Welsh tradition, the term awenydd generally meant a bard, someone who had been formally trained in the guild arts of Welsh poecy. At times the word is used in medieval poetry to imply the performing bard is evoking a poetic fervour, a trance brought on by the pounding rhythms of incantatory verse. High-ranking court bards of 12th century Wales apparently believed that awen arose from Annwfn, the world-within-the-world, to fill the awenydd with inspiration. This was a divine breath drawn from the depths of reality, the deep inside the world, the source of visionary insight and imagination.
But there is a hint in the wider tradition that Annwfn is also the place where the shades of delusion lurk. The First Branch of the Mabinogi suggests those entering the world-within-the-world should be careful. During his sojourn in Annwfn, Pwyll forgoes taking advantage of a mysterious goddess, an act that would have come so naturally to a more mindless man. The tale suggests this enigmatic queen could either be approached mindfully or mindlessly, the choice was Pwyll’s, as were the consequences.
Had Pwyll behaved as if Annwfn were a playground of mindless distraction he may well have suffered the same fate as many who have happened upon the fairy realm. It would have been so easy for him to loose himself in all of that shining luxury, fulfilling his wildest dreams night after night. But at the end of the year, this surely would have left him weakened and distracted for the task he was honour-bound to perform: his battle at the ford, not only against Hafgan but against entanglement in perpetual, mindless violence. The suggestion is he would never have left that deep place alive had he simply accepted the perceived fantasy. Pwyll’s survival was due to his natural distrust for the glamour that so easily exhausts the will. As his name suggests, he was naturally pwyllog (‘thoughtful, wise, cautious, mindful’).
In reductive terms we could say the imagination can either provide creative insight or degraded fantasy, depending on how it is used. Pwyll set aside the self-indulgence of fantasy so as to respect the integrity of Annwfn’s queen, upholding Annwfn’s sovereignty in more ways than one. In this, Pwyll may well have exemplified the attitude of the Welsh awenyddion to Annwfn and the awen, the fruit borne of that land.
GMB
