ONE TASTE (Cerridwen and Gwion -- retold)

Once upon a time…

Cerridwen, a Goddess who could be fierce or could be kind, set out to help her son. Her son, it was said, was lazy, ill-tempered and short on intelligence. Cerridwen set out to remedy the last complaint, in the hopes that knowledge would turn to wisdom. She set out to make a brew that no one could taste except her son. Or so it is said.

This was to be her best gift of all time and she took great care in preparing the spell.

She filled her cauldron with waters of the world. It took a long time to gather from every stream, ocean, river and well, but eventually she did so. She gathered just the right woods to build the fire beneath the cauldron.  In the cauldron's water would go all the wonders that make up all our blessings. In the water, would go the cry of a newborn, the sigh of an old man, the laughter of a child on a windy March day.

Into the water would go the flight of a hummingbird, the call of the whippoorwill, the light reflected in the dew as it shines on a fairy ring when the moon is full.

Into the brew would go every imaginable thing of wonder, delight, beauty, and wisdom. For the brew itself would give wisdom and delight to the child whom the Goddess loved.

Before she began to gather the special blessings to give into the water, she called nine witches from nine directions to circle round the cauldron. Perhaps these were the nine mothers of the god Heimdall, who guards the rainbow bridge. Perhaps they were the nine Moon goddess blessings who guard the nine months of a child's life in the womb. Perhaps she chose them one by one and brought them to the forest where her cauldron needed tending.

No one has said and I don’t know, but I know the nine witches stirred the cauldron with their breath, each glad to give to her Goddess what she could give.

Before Cerridwen went to gather her blessings from the world to feed into the brew, she chose a young boy who was tending goats on a hillside to come and feed the specially gathered wood to the fire beneath the cauldron where the nine witches stirred the brew with their breath.

This was the boy, Gwion. Cerridwen had been watching him. For a long long time.

He was steadfast and trustworthy. He was a hard worker. He was kind. He displayed each of the nine noble virtues. This is what the Goddess knew about him when she found him with his herd on the hillside. What she did not know was that he was also a dreamer, in love with the wonders such as he knew in his small world.

So, with the cauldron well tended and the fire goodly fed, Cerridwen went out to search for wonders in the broad world. She gathered a sunrise over a harbor, a mist from a mountain hollow, a rainstorm from April and a September from a poet's mind.

She added these to the cauldron and young Gwion fed the fire, and the nine witches stirred the brew with their breath.

She added the first steps of a spindly legged-colt. She added the kiss of a new bride and groom. She added the hope of a farmer planting corn.

And Gwion fed the fire and the nine witches stirred the brew with their breath.

For some of the ingredients, Cerridwen had to journey a long way. She was gone for hours sometimes and sometimes for days. And each time, she added the ingredient in just the right way at just the right phase of the moon, when just the right astrological presence filled the sky. And all the while, Gwion fed the fire and the nine witches stirred the brew with their breath.

And young Gwion fed the fire...

And young Gwion fed the fire...

And young Gwion fed the fire...

And young Gwion saw flashes of things in the brew.

He saw the hint of winding roads that led to the great Away. He saw a bit of sky from an eagle's view. He heard a scatter of song from a village square.

And the witches stirred the cauldron with their breath.

And Gwion fed the fire...

And the minutes passed and the hours too, and the shadows grew long, particularly long, one afternoon.

And Gwion's mind wandered as he fed the fire. And he wondered and wondered as he fed the fire.

He seemed to hear the words of his own heart in the brew. He seemed to see himself there and

all the things just out of his knowing, those things that almost spoke in his dreams but didn't...quite.

And Cerridwen brought the light from a temple and the thought from a stone. And Cerridwen brought the space between sleep and awake. And Cerridwen brought the first taste of strawberries and the scent of a rainstorm.

And the witches stirred the brew with their breath.

And Gwion fed…

the brew with their breath...

And Gwion fed…

the brew with their breath...

And Gwion fed…

…the fire…the fire…

One taste on the tip of his finger. One taste, quick as flash. Between the feeding of the fire and the stirring breath of witches...

One taste. And then he knew. And he knew SHE knew.

Instantly he ran. And she came after. The cauldron burst asunder, the brew spilled, the witches flew.

And Gwion, who now knew all things, shape-shifted into a rabbit, but Cerridwen became a greyhound and chased him. He became a high flying bird, but Cerridwen became a hawk and flew after. He became a swift-moving trout and she became a predatory shark swimming right behind him. He leaped to land and became a grain of wheat in a hill of many grains of wheat. And she became a hen who knew exactly which kernel.

And as the legend goes, the kernel of wheat became a seed in the belly of the great Goddess Cerridwen and she gave birth nine months later to a son who had been Gwion and was now Taliesin.

Taliesin was a God, the God of poetry. His namesake, Taliesin, was a poet who tasted a forbidden brew. He wrote the SONG OF AMERGIN. He wrote the BATTLE OF THE TREES. He wrote the world young and hid the wisdom between the words.

And you too, can taste the brew.

All it takes is a bit of breath,

      a bit of fire,

             the wonder of the world

                     and a Goddess gift ..


(My retelling of an old story)