Category: Review

Review – Devotional Polytheism by Galina Krasskova

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‘This work, devotional work, is the heart, the beating, pumping, living heart of a tradition, the lifeblood of a faith. I believe it is that for which we were made.’

This is one of the books that first introduced me to devotional polytheism in 2015. On a reread I found it not only provides a really solid introduction to the subject but that many of the words within still speak to my soul as they did then. 

Krasskova describes devotion as ‘the heart of our traditions’ ‘the art and cultivated practice of loving the Gods’ and building and maintaining ‘right relationship.’ I related strongly to this heart-focused approach and noted how close it is to Bhakti in the Hindu religion. If we’re going to do devotion our hearts have got to be in it, we’ve got to do it for love, for the path can be tough.

Covered are a number of ways of building relationships with the Gods including prayer, meditation, altar and shrine work, offerings, and daily and seasonal rituals. There are also sections on other essentials such as grounding, centring, shielding, discernment, dealing with miasma and cleansing.

What spoke to me most as a polytheistic monastic was the emphasis on prayer. I agreed wholly that ‘prayer is the gateway to devotional practice.’ Krasskova defines prayer as ‘communication with the Gods (or ancestors)’ and speaks of the different forms of prayer including ‘set prayers,’ ‘freeform’, ‘formal or informal’. I found the following to be incredibly helpful in describing something I have experienced but hadn’t quite found the right words for: ‘The formulaic prayers help build consistency and the actual conversation – extempore prayers – build relationship. Both are necessary.’

I felt an affinity with what Krasskova says about ritual. ‘For a devotional polytheist, the purpose, first and foremost, of a ritual is paying homage to, honoring, and expressing veneration for the Holy Powers (Gods and/or ancestors).’ Whilst social gatherings and seasonal celebrations have their place I’ve always found the rites that move me into deeper and more meaningful encounters with the sacred are worshipful and focused on the Gods.

Krasskova writes beautifully and honestly on the joys and perils of mystical experience – on ‘opening oneself up to the experience of the Gods’ and the extremities of emotion and life-changing effects this brings. ‘The sacred always goes hand in hand with terror.’ ‘Devotional experiences can shake and shatter the world, move the ground from beneath our feet, open us up in ways we never, ever conceived of and that is the nature of devotion.’

Meeting the Gods is life-changing, revolutionary, knocks our ego from the centre of our lives and places the Gods there at the very heart instead. They become the ‘central focus of our lives around which everything else revolves (and around which eventually, everything else falls into place).’

She also speaks openly about dark nights of the soul and fallow periods. ‘We have all walked the monstrous road alone and weeping in the darkness.’

She provides support for those in spiritual crisis (which is different to ‘ongoing pathology’) saying ‘it rips away the brittle masks of our ego, it helps us cleanse ourselves of all those things that keep us from seeing clearly, that keep us mired in the masks and facades a very diseased world creates.’ It is ‘ulitmately very, very beneficial’, ‘necessary and good’, ‘but oh, it is hard.’

It was heartening to find the value of devotion upheld so passionately. ‘It is the most important work that any of us will ever do and I think it’s crucial.’

Devotional Polytheism is valuable because it not only provides a good introduction but goes into the deeper and more difficult aspects of Deity relationships you don’t come across in the wider Pagan community. This landmark book is a must-read for all new newcomers to devotional polytheism and includes a depth of wisdom for those further along the path.

Review – Radical Embodiment with Jayne Johnson and Alex Walker

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Over the past four months I have been attending a monthly course on radical embodiment with Jayne Johnson and Alex Walker. The focus has been on aliveness and increasing our awareness and understanding of our nervous system as we move in and out of contact with others using voice, play, dance and touch. The workshops took place at West Gilling Village Hall in North Yorkshire.

On the first week we focused on the nervous system. We were introduced to polyvagal theory through the work of Laura Geiger and Deb Dana. At this point I was aware of the differences between the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system but not of the central role of the vagus nerve (our gut-brain axis). 

We learnt there are two pathways on the vagus nerve called ventral and dorsal. These regulate how we engage with our surroundings and other people. Two of the systems associated with these pathways are ventral vagal flight / fight and dorsal vagal freeze / shutdown and they are our oldest ways of being dating back to the our reptilian ancestors. The most recent system to evolve is the mammalian ventral vagal social engagement system. When we are in this state we feel safe and are open to social contact, learning, playing and bonding. We explored these systems through contact and dance with music choreographed to lead us into each.

This knowledge and work has been incredibly helpful for me as it illuminated how most of the time when I am around other people I am in fight / flight because I was bullied when I was younger and as an autistic person struggle to read facial expressions, body language and tone of voice. Learning of freeze / shutdown helped me understand my autistic shutdowns. Because Jayne and Alex established such a safe space and the other participants were so open and authentic I was able to relax into social engagement and explore connecting with others.

On the second week we covered the satisfaction cycle, which was established when we infants, and governs how we ‘yield, push, reach, take hold, and pull’. One of the exercises was bringing six objects through which we explored this in pairs. We were invited to consider how these processes continue to govern our adult lives.

I had quite a big revelation. It is one of my habits to reach for something I want and, if I can’t have it, put it aside and take something I don’t want instead for a while, then go back to the thing I really want. This has happened over and over again with my calling to bring the myths and worship of the ancient British Gods into the world. Now I can see the habit for what it is I can avoid repeating it.

Thresholds and edge figures, covered on the third week, was my favourite topic. Herein we looked at the internal authority figures who act as gatekeepers between the safety and comfort of our known world and the risks of the unknown. We met and engaged with our edges and edge figures through various exercises such as using a scarf as an edge and negotiating with a partner in the role of an edge figure. 

One of my biggest insights came later from journeying to my edge figures and a one-to-one session on my insights with Alex. Rather than treating edge figures as adversaries we need to understand their perspectives, acknowledge how they have helped us, treat them with kindness and get them on board. This has helped me deal with my trio of Victorian school teachers, Mrs Planner, Mrs Figure It Out and Mrs Certainty, who have helped me to be incredibly organised and good at planning but sometimes get in the way of me doing deeper spiritual work.

The fourth week was integration wherein we brought everything together. One of our challenges was supporting each other in connection in a gigantic blue band. During the last dance I found myself feeling massively grateful to Jayne and Alex and the other participants for everything we have experienced together but also wanting more. Longing to dance with others monastic devotees in a monastery in devotion to Gwyn. I put this out into the word as a prayer and the following morning received guidance on the first step which will be leading ‘Journeys to the Deep’.

This has been the first course I have attended since covid and my withdrawal from the Pagan community in favour of my polytheistic monastic path. It has given me the inspiration and faith in other people to take further steps out into the world by training as a shamanic healer and hopefully to recommence leading workshops locally.

Jayne and Alex hope to offer this course again in 2025 in the Hebden Bridge area and to run an Advanced Radical Embodiment retreat in mid June 2025.

Review – Hidden: A Life All For God

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This documentary records the daily lives of the Trappistine Sisters at Mount Saint Mary’s Abbey in Wrentham, MA. Although I am a Brythonic polytheist not a Christian witnessing their monastic lives and devotion touched me deeply.

The story begins with one of the sisters lighting the candles in the chapel at 3am prior to vigils at 3.20am which is followed by the Great Silence – a time for silent prayer. This resonated with me very much as an early riser who gets up at 4am to pray to my Gods and spends time meditating in the sacred hours before the rest of the world wakes up and the bustle of everyday life begins. Sadly I can only imagine sharing it with other polytheistic monastics.

The sisters are Benedictines and keep the seven canonical hours of prayer (1) with compline at 7.20pm. This is coupled with private prayer and study including lectio divina ‘Divine Reading’. In accordance with the motto of Saint Benedict ora et labora ‘pray and work’ this is balanced with physical labour. The nuns work in a ‘state of the art high tech candy factory’ and also on a farm where they look after animals including keeping sheep for wool. I related strongly to the sister who found spiritual fulfilment in her compost duties. The sisters see no difference between the two – “Life here is a continual prayer.”

Although the nuns come from differing places and backgrounds and admit getting on isn’t always easy they are united by one thing – their love of God. “Everything is centred on fostering a deep personal relationship with Jesus Christ.”

Several of the nuns share their moving vocation stories, speaking of how they were called by God and came to recognise Him as “the one before all others”.

“Why did you come?”

“It’s Him.” 

“What do you seek?”

“It’s Him.”

“Why do you stay?”

“I can’t live without Him.”

Their words echoed exactly how I feel about my patron God Gwyn ap Nudd.

The functioning of this monastic community is made possible by the silence. One of the sisters says their lives are “100 per cent community and 100 per cent silence not 50 / 50”. Their “silence”, in which they commune with God in everything they do throughout the day, “is part of the conversation.”

As somebody who struggles with idle chatter but enjoys quiet company I can imagine the only way I could live with others would be if life was mostly silent.

The documentary records one of the younger sisters making her solemn profession, her life long vows. This was very moving to watch and left me with a yearning to be able to make my lifelong vows with my monastic community.

I came away from this video feeling I identified with the sisters in all ways except for being a polytheist rather than a Christian and feeling I’m closer to monotheists than most other Pagans in centring my life on my patron God and in believing that God/the Gods are real and are worthy of worship. (2)

I’ve watched it a few times now and always return to it when I feel alone in my devotion (although this is less now since founding the Monastery of Annwn).

(1) Matins / vigils (nighttime), lauds (early morning), prime (first hour of daylight),  terce (third hour), sext (noon), nones (ninth hour), vespers (sunset), compline (end of the day).
(2) In Paganism the views on Deity range widely and include: 
*The Gods don’t exist (atheism).
*We imagined up the Gods or they are parts of our psyches (psychological).
*The Gods are archetypes (archetypal).
*The Gods are real but we shouldn’t bother them – “I’’m not a God-botherer.” 
*The Gods are real and we can work with Them and celebrate Their festivals but They don’t demand our worship (non-Polytheistic Witchcraft, Wicca and Druidry).
*The Gods are real and are worthy of worship (Polytheism). 
*The Gods are real and we should centre our lives around Them (Devotional Polytheism).
*The Gods are real and we should withdraw from the secular world as far as possible to centre our lives on Them (Polytheistic Monasticism).

Review – Dwelling on the Threshold: Reflections of a Spirit-Worker and Devotional Polytheist by Sara Kate Istra Winter

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This book was published in 2012. When I first read it in 2015 I was delighted to find a kindred spirit who shared my deep devotion to the Gods and practices as a spiritworker, albeit in the Hellenic rather than the Brythonic tradition.

It is a collection of essays covering diverse topics from relationships with Deities, land spirits and personal spirits to practices such as oracular trance and possession and the use of entheogens. As the author states, it ‘isn’t geared towards beginners’ but is a record of ‘thoughts and experiences’ that serve to ‘inspire and stimulate’ ‘anyone on a devotional and / or spirit-work path’.

In the introduction Winter notes the term ‘spirit-worker’ is recent and is ‘not well defined. But it generally indicates a polytheist and / or animist who serves the gods and spirits directly in some capacity, and with a level of intensity and devotion above the average worshipper… They might serve a community, but unlike a a shaman they don’t necessarily have to. A spirit-worker traverses the road between humans and gods, between this world and the otherworlds, and they do this because they must, because they are called to, and because it is quite literally their work in life.’

She says, ‘devotional polytheist’ ‘was coined partly as a counterpoint to strict reconstructionism’. The differences lies in placing ‘a high level of importance on personal and direct experience of the holy powers’ and the devotional practices of ‘prayer, ritual, offerings etc’ whilst remaining respectful of the historical sources rather than attempting to reconstruct past traditions.

The rest of the essays form an exploration of these ‘twin paths’. A piece that particularly still resonates is ‘Mysticism as Vocation in Modern Paganism’. Here Winter rails against the view not only of secular society but ‘the majority of pagans’ that ‘spiritual vocation’ ‘is a luxury to be fitted around daily life’. Why cannot ‘home, family and career’ ‘be fitted around spiritual vocation?’ With no state support for Pagan religious vocations here in the UK those of us who share such a calling are left with a constant struggle to balance the need for financial security with fulfilling our calling from the Gods and spirits.

Those who follow Winter / Dver’s blog ‘A Forest Door’ will know she writes beautifully about her relationship with lands spirits. Here, too, she describes her practice, traversing her ritual landscape, carrying a ‘beeswax taper’ ‘like a ritual torch’, following crow feathers, making offerings of ‘mandrake root’, ‘an old and crackled coyote’s tooth’, ‘fly agaric’, for a local land spirit.

In ‘Evolving Patron Relationships’ and ‘Two Decades with Dionysos’ Winter talks about how He crept into her life ‘in bits and pieces’ with poetry, red wine, the Doors and how she became a Hellenic Polytheist and served her God ‘in the community at large’ before seeming to withdraw in order to lead her elsewhere – into ‘entanglement’ with the spirits. She prompts the reader to ‘recognise the possibility that a patron relationship might end’ or one might find it ‘evolves in a new unexpected directions’ ‘to where you needed to be all along’. I cannot imagine my relationship with Gwyn ap Nudd ending but do appreciate the warning of that potential and for unexpected change.

‘The Gods Are Real and Trance Isn’t Just Visualisation’ is important in stating that argument in relation to the writings of Diana Paxon and others who fail to point out the difference between ‘visualising a pre-set series of events’ and ‘actually meeting the gods and spirits in a foreign land’.

Of immense value are the pieces documenting Winter’s reconstruction of her oracular practice for Apollon based on the traditions at Delphi. Winter visited Delphi in 2003 and performed ritual and ceremony and a night long vigil. She was later inspired to take up the practices of the Pythiai after seeing similarities between her landscape of Cascadia and that of Delphi. This inspired a pilgrimage to the source of her local headwaters and to setting up her own adyton andtaking to the tripod on the seventh day of the month. In ‘On the Tripod’ she describes emptying herself to receive Appollon’s words.

‘Lord Apollon,
enter into this place
made only for Your entry
and no other’s.

I have emptied out my skull,
and await your voice to fill it.’

Eight years on I have found this book to be packed with wise words and inspiration and to be incredibly relatable as someone still walking the ‘twin paths’ of devotional polytheism and spirit-work as a polytheistic monastic. I would recommend it as a core resource for anyone wanting to learn more about these paths or delve more deeply into the issues that confront modern practitioners and the struggles and joys of building sacred relationships.

Review – I am Taurus by Stephen Palmer

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‘I am the aurochs bull of the liminal zone, my breath a snort, my eye red fierce, my horns a great crescent echoing the fingernail moon just after new.’

I am Taurus by Stephen Palmer is an invocation of the Great Bull: in the night sky as the constellation Taurus, running across the plains, hunted, battled, sacrificed, etched in cave art, alive in myth, through place and time.

Written in the first person, in the voice of Taurus, this book gives voice to the aurochs bull through time and place focusing on eleven sites from Lascaux (17,000 BCE), Çatalhöyük, Alacahöyük, Uruk, Knossos, Harappa, Babylon, Memphis, Canaan, Rome, through to Pamplona in more recent years.

Described from the bull’s point of view are the cultures with whom he has interacted. He speaks of how he appears in star lore, of the exploits that have given rise to his myths, of his numerous deaths as the sacrificial bull.

It is clear a good deal of research has gone into this book. Palmer draws on the theories of Jo Marchant and John Knight Lundwall as well as the excellent work of David Lewis-Williams (author of The Mind in the Cave). His efforts are evidenced by the meticulous attention to detail in his descriptions of the ingredients for paint, the methods of fresco painting, a ritual headdress, cuneiform, hieroglyphs and the making of papyrus scrolls.

This comes out in a vivid description of a bullfight in Pamplona: ‘They begin the fight in the later part of the afternoon, when the great heat of midday is passing or gone. My life and those of five others are to be taken by three matadors. A music known as the paso doble – literally the rhythm of the march – announces the arrival of the matadors and their assistants the picadors and banderilleros. The matadors take all the crowd’s attention, their costume marking them out: dark, flesh-hugging trousers, the bicorne hat known as the montera, and a jacket of great sophistication and expense. These trajes deluces – literally suit made of lights – are decorated in profusion with golden adornments, so that they glitter in sunlight.’

The book is well written with some unique phrases and turns of language: ‘flambeau light’, ‘antlers rendered as abnormally complex cerlicues’, ‘my thews are muscle and sinew, as tough as the trunk of a pine tree.’

The only thing that didn’t quite gel with me were the pieces of cultural theory spoken by the bull. For example when speaking of the emergence of polytheism in Harappa: ‘They are a people who worship and feel reverence for the world in which they live and for the universe, whose metaphors are Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva… Like all preliterate cultures or cultures for whom the advent of writing has not brought significant religious changes, this polytheism indicates that the archaic way of using nature as metaphor and framework has not been superseded.’ This contrasts with more immediate channelled feeling lines where the bull speaks of his role as the varahana of Shiva. ‘I am frightening, like Shiva. Strong, relentless, wise and filled with zealous energy, I follow my master, dedicated to him.’

As a Brythonic polytheist I was a little disappointed there was no mention of the bull in the Celtic traditions (such as Tarvos Trigaranos, ‘the Bull with Three Cranes’). Yet I appreciate that the author could not cover all sources in one book.

Overall this was an enjoyable read bringing to life the story of the Great Bull and putting forward some interesting theories about his perception in the stars and in art and religion in European and Near and Middle Eastern cultures.

I am Taurus can be purchased from Collective Ink HERE.

Review – Mycogenous: Dionysos in the Fungal Realm by Dver

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Dionysos is a dangerous God and this is a dangerous book. 

Herein Dver reveals a ‘new’ face of Dionysos which she explains isn’t entirely new but is significant in its appearance at this time. Many polytheists will be familiar with Dionysos as a God of pandemonium, wild revelry and wine, but less as the yeast that transmutes the wine and the silence and stillness ‘at the heart of the Dionysian storm’, as mushrooms, as mycocelium, as mold. Here He is revealed as ‘mycogenous: arising from or inhabiting fungi.’

Dver’s revelations began when she ‘noticed a blue-green mold’ on half-evaporated wine she left too long in a silver kylix on Dionysos’ shrine. In an epiphany she realised He was not only in the wine but the mold and fermentation. This book is the result of five years of cultivating mychorrhizal insights.

‘The Way of Mycogenous Dionysos’ is described as ‘a path of mysticism – or mycomysticism’, ‘at times contemplative, at times shamanic… ultimately transformative.’ 

‘The heart of the tradition’ is presented in ‘The Book of Hyphae’ which contains gnosis and practice and is supplemented with exegesis at the end. 

These words, ancient Greek names for Dionysos, lines from the Dionysian tradition and new epiphanies, are not just to be read, but to be meditated on, ingested, for the Dionysian devotee performed and practiced to work the processes that will transform them into mystes and mycomystic. 

Although I am a Brythonic polytheist with little experiential knowledge of the Greek tradition I am familiar with Dionysos in mythology and as a presence. As I read this book for the first time I found certain words and practices jumping out at me and recognising a number of mychorrhizal connections. 

I found it to be of deep interest that, like myself, Dver has been inspired to draw upon practices from yoga with it being notable that the Greek, Brythonic and Hindu religions all share Indo-European roots. 

One that stood out was a breathwork based on the words βίος ‘bios’ ‘life’, θᾰ́νᾰτος ‘thanatos’ ‘death’, βίος ‘bios’ ‘life’ combining them with the three colours black – exhalation, white – ‘the liminal space between breaths’, and red – ‘the inhalation’. Later Dver explains these colours are central to the Orphic strain of the Dionysian religion and combined create a colour called orphinnos. I have been guided towards similar breathwork and black, white and red are the colours of Annwn, ‘Very Deep’, the Brythonic Otherworld.

Another practice is singing seven epithets of Dionysos activating the seven chakras / energy centres. In ascending order from root to crown, Khtonios (of the earth), Auxites (growth), Purigenes (born of fire), Omadios (eater of raw flesh), Iakkhos (the ritual cry), Kruphios (ineffable), Lusios (loosener). 

The words that leapt from the page most were ‘Bakkhios Himself has freed me.’ A shiver ran up my spine when I learnt ‘This line is adapted from one of the Orphic gold tablets which contained instructions for the soul of a dead person navigating the underworld’ and is ‘a totenpass’ ‘passport for the dead.’ 

Dver says, ’It is a prayer for liberation, a hope, a plea. It is an affirmation of devotion and dedication. And if you sing it long long enough it becomes an ordeal, a sacrifice’ and ‘could comprise one’s entire devotional practice to Dionysos.’

Another practice is practicing death, lying in shavasana ‘corpse pose’, surrendering oneself to the fungal processes of decay.

Dver has found a likeness between Shiva and Dionysos and I have found likenesses between Shiva and my patron God, Gwyn ap Nudd. All are Gods of ecstasy with associations with death and dissolution and renewal.

Not long after I read this book, having received it as a birthday present, over the November full moon I was plummetted into a process of dissolution myself. Then release from old things holding me down. As I read it again that phrase leaps out, echoes in my mind, ‘Dionysos has liberated me.’ I believe these words, the fungal touch of this God, had a role.

On a final note I would like to mention the three wonderful colour plates. ‘Mycogenous’ and ‘Lichenized’ are devotional art and ‘Remediation’ is a mask worn when lying in corpse pose and all are made from organic materials.

The book arrived beautifully wrapped and it is clear every stage in its creation has been carried out with devotion. 

I would recommend it to Dionysian devotees and to polytheists with an interest in building a devotional practice based on mystical revelations. But be warned, like fungal spores, these words, this God is dangerous. Do not expect to open it, turn its pages, without releasing a little Dionysos into your world.

Review – The Way of the Gods by Edward Butler

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In The Way of the Gods philosopher and polytheist Edward P. Butler provides an introduction to polytheisms around the world. This book originated as a course he delivered for the Center for Global Polytheist and Indigenous Traditions at INDICA*.

It contains fifteen chapters covering India, the Mideast, Hellenic and Roman Polytheism, Northern Europe, Ancient Egypt, African Traditional Religions, South America, Mesoamerica, the African Diaspora, North America, Oceania and New Zealand, Australia, Southeast Asia, Japan and Korea and China. 

It is unique within academia as, from the start, Butler states his standpoint as a polytheist who believes the Gods of all the world’s traditions are real**. Thus for him these religions are not ‘solely a matter for historical study’ but embody ‘eternal relationships to the Gods whom they address.’ 

Throughout the book Butler makes clear that the terms ‘polytheism’ and ‘Gods’ are not used to ‘determine the self-understanding’ of non-Western cultures. Consistently he provides the indigenous terms for the religions and deities of each culture. He notes his use of ‘Gods’ is to ensure their divinities are not seen as lesser than the Christian God or reduced to pantheistic concepts. He also notes the Western mistake in the labelling of cultures as animistic in a way that sets up a false opposition between animism and polytheism, leading to the supposition that cultures that have spirits have no Gods.

In each chapter Butler provides a history of the polytheistic traditions of the cultures of his chosen geographical areas. It is noted that whilst some have continuity (such as ‘India, ‘home of the largest polytheistic tradition in the world… Hinduism’ and Australia ‘the longest continuous tradition on Earth) many others (such as Greek and Roman and Egyptian) are sundered. Butler does not flinch from speaking of the oppression most polytheistic traditions have suffered, and some still suffer, under the hegemony of Christianity. 

The chapters begin with core readings and many are on creation myths such as Enuma Elish, Theogony, Gylfaginning, Kumalipo and the Popol Vuh. Butler provides studies of these cosmogonies showing how several originate with ‘water’ as ‘a much broader cosmic phenomenon’ and ‘result in the emergence of a hierarchical or layered reality’. ‘Every cosmogonic myth is a doctrine concerning Being’. He notes the similarities and differences between the African cosmogonies where the Creator withdraws into the sky opening up a space for further action and the threat of the falling sky in South America due to the decline of spiritwork which maintains the supports. 

Throughout Butler emphasises that myth does not relate to some distant past but is ‘always now’. Western scholarship has tended to favour diachronic interpretations and linear narratives to those that are synchronic. Rituals, such as the recitation of Enuma Elish ‘on the fourth day of the Babylonian New Year’, allow for participation in this eternal now with the Gods.

Different approaches to ritual and spiritwork are presented. One of these is the Yoruba tradition of Vodou from the African Diaspora. Herein there is a single pantheon of Orishas (from ori ‘head’ and sa ‘selection or choice’). Divination reveals the patron deity as ‘the owner of the head’. One of the practices is the mounting or possession of the devotee by one’s God.

This book provides a fascinating introduction to polytheisms around the world. It is meticulately researched and respectful to each of the cultures and their Gods. As a philosophy post-graduate I particularly enjoyed Butler’s analyses of the cosmogonies in the creation myths and discussions about the rich philosophical traditions these polytheisms have given birth to.

I would recommend The Way of the Gods to all polytheists who want to learn more about our world-wide polytheisms and to anyone interested in the subject. I found having prior knowledge of basic philosophical concepts helpful but it is accessible to all with a dictionary to hand.

It also a beautiful act of devotion in itself from a practicing polytheist who states his ‘life work is the study of polytheism and polytheistic traditions’.

*https://indica.in/
** This contrasts with the majority of academics who keep their personal spiritual and religious beliefs separate from their academic work.

Review – Taliesin Origins by Dr. Gwilym Morris-Baird

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Dr. Gwilym Morus-Baird is a native Welsh speaker and scholar. He runs the excellent Celtic Source website where he shares scholarly research and personal insights into the Celtic myths through videos and free and paid online courses. Taliesin Origins originated from an online course. 

As would be expected this book provides a superb introduction to the myth of Taliesin well grounded in the social and political history of Wales. It not only introduces material that might already be known to students of the bardic tradition such as Ystoria Taliesin (‘The Tale of Taliesin’) and the poetry from Llyfr Taliesin (The Book of Taliesin) but sets it in a context with and expounds on its themes through other bardic works that are less familiar. The author’s translations of these, as well as the Taliesin content, are valuable resources in themselves. 

Morus-Baird, who is not only a scholar, but a musician, presents the material in a way that is not only academically accurate but lively and vivid and enthused with experiential insights based on his practices as a living bard.

One of my favourite parts was where he traces the travels of the historical Taliesin north from Cynan’s court at Pengwern (Shrewsbury) to Urien’s court in Rheged*. Here we find an evocation of the revelry in the hall and the lord with ‘long, flowing white hair and beard’ ‘his body’ ‘covered with many battle scars’.

There is a good deal of speculation founded on research and personal insights. Morus-Baird presents a strong argument for the story of Gwion stealing awen from Ceridwen’s cauldron then being eaten by her and reborn as Taliesin originating from interactions between the visionary tradition of the witches and the Welsh bards. This tale is shown to play out in the prehistoric ritual landscapes around the Dyfi and Conwy estuaries where it is set. It is argued that the alternative telling of the creation of Taliesin by Gwydion from vegetation as ‘a weapon of bardic destruction’ along with the trees in Kat Godeu (‘The Battle of the Trees’) originates from a different bardic lineage.

This book also contains much philosophical depth. The concept of awen is explored from its Proto-Celtic origin in *awek ‘inspiration or insight’ through its complex of meanings in Irish and in Welsh which include awel ‘breath.

The imagination is beautifully likened to the Mare Goddess Rhiannon as ‘an insubstantial beast, a grey mare of little but breath. We may ride her to ends of the Earth, but she vanishes the minute we look at her too closely.’ Awen as is seen to ‘live’ in Annwfn and is drawn upon by the bards.

Morus-Baird states that the popular understanding of Annwfn as the otherworld isn’t the ‘most accurate’ and translates it as ‘inner world’ or ‘inner depth’, describing it as ‘a world-within-the-world, a depth that is everywhere’. Drawing on the First Branch of The Mabinogion along with the poetry of Cynddelw and Taliesin (who speaks of his seat in Caer Siddi ‘the fairy-mound Fortress’) he categorieses Annwfn as a timeless, pristine place of high ideals and dismisses the Christianised hellish view in Culhwch ac Olwen.

At the end of the section on Annfwn he summarises his argument: 

‘The main difference between Annwfn and our realm appears to be a temporal one. Whereas our plane of existence is characterised by ageing and death, ‘sickness and old age’ do not affect those in Caer Siddi. It appears to be the place of eternal renewal, where pristine life continues without the effects of time and its changes. By contrast, to partake of the mortal realm is to be swept up in the turbulent currents of transformation, to be spun in the cycles of birth and death and to know the suffering of experience.’**

Annwfn is described not as a land of dead, in the sense of a final destination for souls, but it is one where spirits such as those of Taliesin and Myrddin can reside. These ‘bardic masters’ can be channelled in live performances.

Taliesin Origins is an engaging read on an intellectual and spiritual level. I have been studying the bardic tradition for over ten years and it gave me additional food for thought and led me to question a number of assumptions. I would recommend it as the go-to source for anyone interested in the Taliesin myth whether from an academic or religious perspective or both. 

*There’s a mention of Taliesin crossing the Ribble at Preston near to my home. It hadn’t crossed my mind he would have passed so close on his travels.
**This isn’t an argument I wholly agree with. Although there are lots of examples of Annwfn being a timeless, pristine place we also have descriptions of terrible battles there which include violence and death. The prime example being in Preiddeu Annwfn from which only seven men return. Gwyn ap Nudd speaks of this conflict – ‘At Caer Fanddwy I saw a host / Shields shattered, spears broken, / Violence inflicted by the honoured and fair’. If this is to be conflated with the raid set in Ireland the Head of Annwfn himself is killed. One might claim these are so terrible because they are interruptions to the pristine state and I believe this is partly the case. Yet the presence of Annwfian monsters in Kad Godeu along with the gormes ‘oppression’caused by a dragon in Lludd a Llefelys that blights Britain and its people are suggestive of a darker side to Annwfn. It’s my personal belief that like the ‘otherworlds’ of most Indo-European cultures it has both pristine and beautiful and monstrous and terrifiying aspects (for example the Hindu and Buddhist ‘heavens’ and ‘hells’, the Norse Valhalla and Hel, the Greek Elysian Fields and Tartarus). In my personal experience of travelling Annwfn in spirit the transformative processes, including life and death, mirror our own.

Review – Polytheistic Monasticism edited by Janet Munin

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This is the third time I have read this book. The first was when I was asked to write an endorsement for it prior to publication around 2019. The second was on publication in 2021. This third time round I am re-reading it to refamiliarise myself with the foundations of the movement and for inspiration.

In her introduction editor Janet Munin defines polytheism as ‘the worship of more than one Deity or Holy Power’ and polytheistic monastics as ‘those who take solemn vows to live centred on their relationship with one or more Holy Power.’ For me this definition describing centring one’s life on one or more Deity under vows captures perfectly the core of polytheistic monasticism.

Common features of monastic life are listed as living by a Rule, taking vows and structuring time. Living a devotional life necessitates the renunciation of distractions such as ‘wealth acquisition, social life, media consumption’.

Nine essays from polytheistic monastics* follow. The first two cover the topic of callings. Aine Llewellyn’s short piece was very relatable as they speak about being called to throughly orientate their life around their Gods but finding no existing structures and not feeling monastic enough before returning ‘eyes clearer,’ ‘mind tempered,’ ‘heart opened’. Kimberley Kirner tells of being called by the spirits but not to the priesthood and notes the differences between these vocations – being inward and outward looking, one serving the spirits first and community second and the other vice versa. 

Julie Bond, an early pioneer, describes how she began developing a druidic monastic practice in the 1990s before taking formal vows with the Order of the Sacred Nemeton in 2012. She speaks of developing a system of daily observance based around set times of day and their correspondences, keeping seasonal festivals, a breviary, and adopting a habit.

John Michael Greer shares the story of the conception of the Gnostic Celtic Church Monastery centring on the Rule of Awen and the Hermitage of the Heart. Patricia Christmas is interviewed about being the resident votary at Harvest Home Hermitage and her spiritual and physical work on its 0.8 acre plot.

Danica Swanson speaks of her development of the Blackstone Sanctuary as a place of worship for a number of Norse Goddesses and for a variety of monastic practices including incubation retreats. The rule is ‘Follow the Ways of Non-Contrivance’. Swanson’s principle of ‘sacred endarkment’ – ‘holding respectful space for beings and places of holy darkness’ resonated deeply with me as a nun of Annwn. Her words about an initiation involving a mystical encounter with ‘the Void, the Abyss’ and the need for spaces where we can engage with such states deliberately felt very important and wise.

Rebecca Korvo focuses on reclaiming ‘the custody of the eye’ as a method for ‘pushing out the unholy and toxic’ and turning our attention to the Gods.

Syren Nagakyrie describes polytheistic monasticism as a ‘revolutionary vision’. She speaks of it as a form of resistance to ‘the exploitation of time and labour’, ‘disenchantment’, ‘oppression and devaluation of all beings’ and ‘extraction from the earth’ by ‘making every day sacred’.

Within these pages polytheistic monasticism is covered from a number of angles. As I said in my endorsement it is ‘a defining and much-needed book’. Three reads through I would still highly recommend it as the go-to publication for all people interested in the topic and to practicing pagan and polytheistic monastics who are seeking inspiration from like minds.

As the movement develops with more monastics being called and with online communities such as the Cloister** this book will continue to guide the way.

*With the exception of John Michael Greer.
**https://cloister.bone.blue

Review – Inanna by Emily H. Wilson

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Inanna by Emily H. Wilson is the first book in her Sumerians Trilogy. This mythological fantasy focuses on the story of the Sumerian Goddess, Inanna. 

It is told from four perspectives from the first person viewpoint: Inanna herself, Gilgamesh (the well-known hero), Ninshubar (a Goddess associated with Inanna) and towards the end we hear a little from Inanna’s sister, Ereshkigal. At its core is Innana’s growing up and her descent to the underword. Wilson interweaves the relationships between the characters in a compelling way.

Although I don’t know much about the Sumerian myths and culture the descriptions of the geography and setting felt historically accurate with the cities with their clay bricks, canals, barges and ziggurats as did the diet. 

The characters are well presented. I personally didn’t connect with Inanna due to her seeming quite cold and aloof yet this fit with her upbringing. Gilgamesh is likeable in a roguish way. Wilson’s reworking of his relationship with the wild man, Enkidu, is moving.

I really admired Ninshubar. Little is known about Ninshubar so Wilson had to reimagine her story. She begins as a mortal warrior and hunter who runs from her tribe to escape an arranged marriage. She succeeds because she is wise enough to drink her fill, bind her breasts, eat just the right amount. Ninshubar’s perspective is filled with words of wisdom. Her ‘running chant’ is ‘one step and then the next’.

Ninshubar always does the right thing. This surprises Ningal, Inanna’s mother. When asked to explain she speaks the following which struck me as both sad and true. ‘I’m only sure that I think it’s the right thing, and that I have pondered what the right thing is, and then I have done what I think is the right thing. I try to take everything into account, and I make my calculations. It is not easy… often all you win is suffering… Many scars. If you always do the right thing, that is what you win for yourself. Scars, more scars, and then when your scars have scars on them, death.’ We learn later how she becomes a Goddess and sukkul to Inanna.

Another pair of characters who intrigued me who appear only briefly are the pair of beads who become flies and go to rescue Inanna from the underworld. There they take the form of shadowmen and not only display power over death but eerily ‘go inside’ an old woman and remove a baby that has been within her too long and is no longer a baby. 

The main place where Wilson departs from the Sumerian myths and more traditional conceptions of the Gods as either immortal or very long-lived is the exposition of a secret – they only live for hundreds of years and are dependent for their longevity on melam. This is traditionally an attribute of their clothing giving them ‘divine radiance’ or ‘terrifying splendour’. Here it is a black ichor that runs in their blood and gives them godly power and long life. 

Whilst I enjoyed Wilson’s reimagining of the stories of the characters this part of the plot, which is central, didn’t quite ring true to me. Neither did the suggestion that the tradition of burial with graves goods so the dead can take them to them to the underworld along with the survival of the soul there were made up by the Gods to persuade humans to work for them. 

These two points aside this was a well written and engaging read and I would recommend it as a lively and inventive fictional retelling of the story of Inanna that is well grounded in Sumerian mythology and culture.