Druidry: A Practical & Inspirational Guide

Preface to the 2nd Edition

The first edition of this book proved more influential than I ever imagined when the organisers of the London 2012 Paralympic Games asked permission to use parts of the ritual given in chapter 8 in their closing ceremony, which was called ‘The Festival of the Flame’ and themed around the four classical elements of Earth, Water, Fire and Air. So, on the night of September 9th 2012, Rory Mackenzie, a former army medic who had lost a leg to a roadside bomb in Iraq, ascended on a platform high above a packed Olympic Stadium and spoke calls to the four quarters that Emma Restall Orr (Bobcat) and I had composed fifteen years earlier for a multi-faith ceremony held in Volunteer Park in Seattle. Our invocations appeared amid wild steam-punk pyrotechnics and were broadcast live to around 8 million people in the UK and millions more worldwide at the start of a show that featured Coldplay, Rihanna and Jay-Z. Modern Pagan Druidry as manifested by the British Druid Order (BDO) and in this book had gone truly global. Subsequent feedback showed that our words resonated not only with the festival organisers, but with folk around the world, especially, of course, with fellow Druids and Pagans.

Early in 1998, a year before the first edition was written, Ellie, my wife of fifteen years, was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukaemia. Writing began while she was in remission following an initial bone marrow transplant. After a relapse in the autumn of 1999, work on the book was completed between hospital visits and while our two children, then aged five and seven, were in school. Under the circumstances, I was surprised and pleased to deliver the manuscript to the publishers on time.

On New Year’s Eve, 1999-2000, while the rest of the world held massive street parties, worried about aircraft falling from the sky and toasters rebelling because of the Y2K bug that was going to make all our computers crash at the turn of midnight, or gathered on mountain tops waiting for aliens to beam them up to waiting mother ships, I was in an isolation room in the Intensive Care Unit of a London teaching hospital, working with Ellie using techniques learned through a quarter of a century of the study and practice of Druidry as she slid in and out of consciousness. A few hours earlier, her medical team had told me she had between 12 and 48 hours to live. I had to translate that news to our children as best I could. After midnight, while most patients slept and nursing visits were few, I walked the borderlands between life and death with Ellie, even crossing over into the otherworld, seeking aid from guides and higher powers in her cause, weaving healing magic with and for her. Just before dawn I knew we’d done enough and that she would, once again, confound the doctors and live beyond their expectations.

As the Sun rose on the year 2000, I walked through eerily silent, deserted London streets bedecked with wind-blown, multi-coloured streamers trailing from lampposts, balloons and paper hats floating along pavements piled here and there with crates of empty champagne bottles. Surreal scarcely begins to cover it. Later that morning, I was told that Ellie’s blood cell counts had increased dramatically overnight for no reason her medical team could discern.

Ellie lived for a further five months, long enough to see the first edition published, with its dedication to her. She put her time to good use, preparing herself and our children for her passing before finally succumbing to a further round of treatment rather than to the illness itself in May, 2000. The last event we attended together as a family was the May Day weekend Jack-in-the-Green Festival in Hastings, with its powerful symbolism of death and rebirth. Ellie died a few days later in our local hospital. As she exhaled her final breath, a sparkling cluster of golden motes of light gathered above her chest, coalescing into a beautiful butterfly which flew out through the closed window into the grey and rainswept afternoon outside. Her spirit had literally flown and I was privileged to see it depart, freeing her from the physical body that had become a crumbling cage.

Being alone in that hospital room with Ellie, I was able to make ceremony for her departing spirit. Having a guitar with me, as part of the rite I sang a song called ‘The Islands of the Blest,’ from an 8th century Irish tale called ‘The Voyage of Bran,’ part of which features in chapter 4 of this book (pages 98-(9). This and other songs in our tradition were, I believe, intended to be sung in just such circumstances, helping guide departing souls to the wonderful refuge of the Earthly Paradise that lies across the western ocean, beyond the setting Sun. Thus, as it is throughout life, Druidry is there beyond its physical ending, offering the peace and solace that come with understanding.

Finding myself a single parent to two small children and faced with the mass of paperwork that must be tackled following a death, though the advance helped cover ongoing expenses, I had neither the time nor the inclination to do publicity for the book. As a result, it sold fewer copies than the publishers hoped and much of the print run was pulped. This gave the book rarity value, so that copies have occasionally changed hands online for over £1000. I have often thought of bringing out a new edition, and am grateful to all those who have prompted, pushed and prodded me to finally get around to it.

Reading through the original text, I was pleased to find how well it held up. The theories and opinions expressed are ones I still stand by, which is just as well since they form the basic framework around which the British Druid Order’s distance learning courses are built (see the Resources section). In this new edition, parts of the original text are retained but I have taken the opportunity to rewrite and expand it extensively, more than doubling the book in length. The word limit set by the original publisher meant that many topics could not be explored in the kind of depth they warranted. On the contrary, the manuscript had to be trimmed repeatedly to bring it down to the required length, leaving me painfully aware of what was lost in the process. Now, with no word limit, what was reluctantly contracted has been expanded, not just restoring what was cut but adding much more. In 1999, I had intended to include footnotes. My editor argued against them on the basis that they slow down reading. In retrospect, I agree, so where references to sources are necessary, they are included in brackets (...) in the body of the text.

Since the first edition was published, it’s been particularly gratifying to hear from folk whose first encounter with Druidry was through my little book and who have actively pursued it as a way of life ever since. That is, after all, why it was written. Almost equally gratifying is that even old hands with decades of experience in Druidry and Paganism have told me that, although intended as an introductory book, it opened up new ways of looking at the tradition for them.

My own journey in the tradition began in 1974 with a vision of Druidry as a unique, powerful, indigenous British and European spirituality. This vision has been central to my life ever since, saving my life and sanity, inspiring my songs and poetry, fuelling my creativity, enhancing my writing, taking me to other continents and other worlds, introducing me to the old gods of our lands, placing me in the midst of magic, informing my relationships with my ancestors and the spirits of the natural world and bringing me to meet many of the most talented, wonderful, magical people I’ve ever encountered. The sense of wonder, magic and power it engenders in me fuels my desire to share it with others. Furthermore, I believe that the vision of Druidry presented in these pages not only has the power to enhance individual lives, but can contribute significantly towards making our world a better, more equitable, more tolerant, more peaceful and greener place in which to live, for ourselves and future generations. With this in mind, it is a genuine pleasure to make this new edition available.

Before we set out on the quest proper, however, there are a few things we need to clarify, beginning with...

Dogmas & Catmas

There are no dogmas in Druidry, only catmas. Dogmas are rigidly held beliefs, often received from others, that tend to stifle freedom of thought and expression. Catmas, a concept invented by Robert Anton Wilson, co-author of the Illuminatus trilogy (Dell Publishing, 1975), are fluidly held beliefs, held only so long as they have value or until they are superseded by our growth in experience and understanding. Catmas offer the freedom to behave as if beliefs are true, allowing us to thoroughly test their worth. For example, one of my catmas is that spirits of nature are as real as the computer on which I’m writing these words, if not infinitely more so. Many years ago I believed differently. My opinion may change again. My present catma, however, enables me to interact with nature spirits well and with respect. You may believe such spirits to be poetic metaphors, psychological projections or simple hallucinations. That’s fine. All I ask is that you allow yourself the catmatic freedom to try out for yourself the belief systems that underlie this book and see if they work for you. So, before we begin, let your dogmas off their leashes and allow them to run free. They may race around in chaotic confusion for a while but give them time and you may find that, one by one, they shape-shift into self-reliant, cool catmas.

A Note on Dates

The dating in this book replaces the Christian system of BC and AD, Before Christ and Anno Domini (‘Year of Our Lord’), with the culturally broader BCE and CE, Before the Common Era and in the Common Era. This system has been adopted by students of comparative religion, history, prehistory and non-European cultures as being more inclusive of the many belief systems that make up the rich diversity of human experience.

A Note on Gender

I don’t use the word Druidess. A Druid is a Druid, whatever their gender. Gender itself is not, and never has been, a simple binary of male and female. Some folk are non-gendered, bi-gendered or trans-gendered. The construction of language over several millennia has, however, tended to differentiate between male and female so that it is difficult to avoid using gender-specific terms, particularly when looking at how our ancestors viewed the world. To avoid frequent repetition of terms such as ‘she or he’ or neologisms such as ‘s/he’ I alternate more or less randomly between ‘he’ and ‘she’ in the text. Similarly, I sometimes use the plural ‘gods’ to mean deities of all genders or none while using ‘god’ and ‘goddess’ for individual deities as appropriate.

A Pronunciation Guide

Modern Druids draw some of our inspiration from texts preserved in manuscripts produced in medieval Wales and Ireland. English speakers often find some Welsh and Irish words and names difficult to pronounce. Both languages have letters, or pairs of letters, that are pronounced differently from English. It therefore seems appropriate to offer a few pointers before we begin. Don’t worry about memorising them because where ‘difficult’ names appear we will give their pronunciation in square brackets [...] after their first appearance. Our pronunciation guides use common English letters and sometimes represent syllables by short English words. We chose this method rather than phonetic symbols because most people have no idea what phonetic symbols represent. Our guides take no account of regional variations in dialect between, say, North and South Wales or Ulster and Connaught. Instead, we approximate the most commonly used pronunciations.

In spoken Welsh, the strongest emphasis is usually on the penultimate syllable. We indicate this by capitalising that syllable. So our pronunciation guide for Yr Wyddfa, the Welsh name of Mount Snowdon, would look like this: [ur WITH-va].

English speakers often have difficulty with the Welsh double ‘1.’ There is no exact equivalent in spoken English, but it can be mastered with a little practice. ‘Ll’ is pronounced something like ‘thl’ with the ‘th’ as in ‘thin’ but preceded by a slight ‘ch’ sound, as in Scottish ‘loch.’ We therefore render ‘ll’ as ‘chthl’ in our pronunciation guides.

Double ‘d’ in Welsh, ‘dd,’ is always pronounced like the hard ‘th’ in ‘the’ or ‘there.’ Single ‘d’ is similar to English but can be harder, almost like the ‘t’ in ‘baton.’

Double ‘f in Welsh, ‘ff,’ is pronounced as ‘f in ‘fine’ or ‘folly.’ Single ‘f is pronounced as ‘v’ in ‘van.’

In Welsh, the letter ‘y’ is usually pronounced like the ‘e’ in ‘winter,’ but at the end of words as the ‘e’ in ‘we.’

‘W’ at the beginning of words is pronounced as in English ‘want,’ ‘wet,’ etc.. In the middle or at the end of words, it is usually pronounced more like the ‘oo’ in ‘boot’ or ‘shoot.’

‘C’ in Welsh is always pronounced hard as in ‘cat.’

‘G’ is always hard as in ‘get.’

English speakers generally find Irish Gaelic more difficult than Welsh due to the number of letters that are either not pronounced at all or pronounced very differently from how they would be in English. An example is the alternative Gaelic name of the Irish capital, Dublin, which is written Baile Átha Cliath. An English speaker might expect this to be pronounced ‘bailey ather cleeath.’ Locally, however, it is pronounced ‘blear clear,’ regionally ‘bally a clear’ or ‘barley aha clear.’ With such variation in pronunciation, and the rules by which sounds mutate being so complicated and, in the case of Old Irish, so uncertain, rather than attempt to tabulate them here, we will simply give our best approximation of how each name is pronounced in square brackets [...] the first time it occurs.

Acknowledgements

Many people, both seen and unseen, human and non-human, have contributed to the inspiration and support that have made this book, and my life, possible. In more or less chronological order, I offer profound thanks to my mother, Doris, a radical, astute, fiercely independent-minded woman who taught me to read and write from the age of two and supported me through much subsequent strangeness; Jack ‘King’ Kirby, whose renditions of The Mighty Thor and All-Father Odin for Marvel comics in the 1960s were my introduction to Paganism; Steve Ditko, whose Doctor Strange comics of the same era awakened me to the possibilities of ritual magic; Leslie Davie and George Blacker, who patiently tried to teach me Art and English Language respectively; Jenni and Claire, who introduced me to the joys of love and the sorrows of parting; Robin Williamson, Mike Heron, Rose Simpson and Christina ‘Licorice’ McKechnie for The Incredible String Band, the perfect musical accompaniment to spiritual seeking; Ravi Shankar and the Third Ear Band, ditto; the Ancient One; Toni Rampling, who opened up worlds of wonder, beauty and magic while we danced together on the edge; Richard ‘Scarf Gregory, soul brother; Tim, for first guitar lessons and more; starry-eyed John W. of the gleaming golden aura; Janet, Flossie and the Bexhill babes, shining like the summer Sun; David Bowie; Robert Graves, for showing me I was a Druid; Mircea Eliade, for further clues to sanity; Ceridwen, patroness of bards; Gary, Pam and the Grove of the Badger; Gwyn ap Nudd, winter king; Gwydion, antlered lord of forests; Arianrhod of the starry skies; MDB, Andy, Reg, Carl, Martin, Josh and the Simons for musical mayhem; Bill Carter and The Screaming Blue Messiahs, ditto; Robyn Hitchcock; Annie Lennox; Ellie, for everything; Dickon, Joe and Maie, who have brought so much to my life; Philip and Stephanie Carr-Gomm, good friends for many years; Ronald Hutton, without whose friendship life would be poorer and this book less historically sound (remaining inaccuracies being entirely my own); Ana; Bobcat, whose companionship on many strange adventures taught me more than words can say; Georgien Wybenga and Fire-keeper Walter, during whose ceremony the Wolf Who Walks with Fire came to me; the wild Wolf people of the world; Raven, Steve, Hette, Debbie, Graham, Robert; the Thunder Eagles of Yr Wyddfa; Andy, Kevan, Brother Brochfael; Woden, wisest of wights; Leon and Allen, Ani, Amy, Gail; the Quileute nation and the Makah, who welcomed me into their sacred circle when I had lost my way; Elaine and Garth, whose warmth and generosity have added so much to so many lives, not least my own; Bodger, Barry and Ann, Fee; Adam, Ady, Amanda, Andrew, Arian, Ben, Flick, Paul and the BDO Circle of Elders; ‘the Norways,’ Kyrre, Morten, LeNa, Wil, Bobby and Anita for sacred sounds and chaga spirit; The World Drum family; Kate Rusby; Frank Olding for Taliesin translations and tutoring; Brendan Myers for philosophical insights and permission to quote; and all other co-conspirators in the cosmic mystery who have shared their lives, wisdom, love and laughter with me. To those not named who should be, I ask your forgiveness and thank you for all that you are and all that you have been to me.

To you all I say, hale* and blessed be!

Greywolf /|\

Wiltshire, Gwyl Forwyn 2023

*The 1st edition had ‘hail’ not ‘hale.’ English ‘hail’ comes from Old English haegl, meaning ‘frozen rain.’ English ‘hale,’ which sounds identical, comes from Old Norse heill, meaning ‘health, prosperity, good luck.’ Despite which, ‘hail’ came to be the common spelling used for the salutation. Reverting to ‘hale’ makes it clear that we’re wishing each other well-being, not frosty storms. ‘Blessed be’ is a common saying in modern Witchcraft, or Wicca. Having been initiated as a High Priest of Alexandrian Wicca in the 1970s, I began using the phrase in Druid contexts, attracting some criticism from fellow Druids. I continue to use it because it is clear, elegant and concise.

Introduction:

Why Druidry, Why Now?

Hale and welcome! You are about to enter a world in which people and animals talk to each other and take on each other’s shapes, where you can learn to speak and read the language of trees, a world of visions, spirit guides, journeys into other worlds, ancestral teachers, past lives and gods who are at once ancient and ever young: such is the world of the Druid, but what is a Druid?

We know from classical Greek and Roman writers that Druids were central to an educated elite that existed in north-western Europe since at least the late Iron Age. They were teachers, philosophers, counsellors, law-givers, priests and magicians. More than a thousand years later, Druids were still active in some of those roles in medieval Ireland, and perhaps also in Scotland and Wales. But what relevance does this ancient tradition have for us today? That many do still find it relevant is shown by the fact that the last decade of the previous century and the early decades of this one have seen an explosion of interest in Druidry as a spiritual path. As evidence of this, in 1990 there were no ‘how-to’ books covering modern Druid beliefs and practices, by 2000 four introductory books were in print and in 2022, as I work on this new edition of my own contribution, a brief web-search reveals more than a dozen introductions and many more books offering in-depth coverage of particular ‘flavours’ of Druidry or focusing on specific aspects of the tradition. Demand for talks and workshops on modern Druidry has likewise expanded. Thirty years ago, it was hard to find any Druid-run or Druid-related events. Now there are several to choose from each weekend. Why, then, has a spiritual system rooted in the prehistoric past found renewed relevance in our digital age? What is there in the teachings and practices of our ancestors that continues to speak to us across the centuries?

A large part of the answer lies in connection, or rather in a web of connections encompassing past, present and future, birth, life and death, the physical world and other worlds beyond. These connections are accessible to us today because of the rediscovery and recreation of Druidry as a Pagan spiritual path that has taken place over the last sixty years or so. We’ll look at that process in this book, and at how it led to the modern spiritual Druidry that has become its dominant form.

The deep connection with the natural world offered by this spiritual Druidry is a strong part of its appeal at a time when global warming and climate change are at the forefront of many minds, especially those of the young who will have longest to live with their potentially disastrous consequences. Many Druids, young and old, therefore support active campaigning groups like Extinction Rebellion (XR). In the UK, Druid ceremonies placing natural magic in the path of the destructive forces of greed and short-term self-interest that are polluting our planet have been a regular part of peaceful environmental demonstrations from the road protest movement of the 1990s to more recent anti-fracking campaigns, both of which met with considerable success. Globally, we have lent our support to the Dakota Access Pipeline protests in the USA and similar indigenous ecological movements elsewhere in the world. In performing such rites, modern Druids are following a history of ecological awareness going back at least two thousand years, when classical writers tell us that our ancestors honoured the gods in groves of sacred trees. A thousand years later, medieval manuscripts affirm the continuing sanctity of trees and their protected status under ancient laws. Druid revival groups have run tree-planting campaigns since at least the early years of the 20th century. Green Druidry has long roots.

The concept of the land, and the plant and animal life that lives upon it, as sacred, sentient and imbued with spirit is hard-wired into the DNA of Druidry. Every continent and country has a native spirituality that has grown out of the land, sea and sky, trees and herbs, animals and birds, spirits and ancestors of each particular place and its people. In the British Isles and much of Europe the earliest native spirituality for which we have a name is Druidry. Native traditions take on different forms depending on local climate, geography, flora and fauna, changing with the shifting tides of time, people and ideas, yet retaining certain common features. Shamanism, native to Siberia, the Dreamtime of the indigenous peoples of Australia, Bon-Po in Tibet, Wakan among the Lakota of the American plains and other kindred traditions elsewhere all grow out of a deep connection with the natural world. They offer a spiritual framework within which all of life is contained, from birth to death and beyond, into the realms of ancestral spirits. Within this framework, they retain and retell traditional tales and sing songs that provide a backdrop to their belief systems. They offer rites of passage and ways of healing. They give a context in which visionaries, healers, shamans, priests and poets practice their crafts for the benefit of their people, rather than being ostracised as weird or spooky, as such folk often are in postindustrial cultures like ours. Operating through knowledge of, and contact with, the spirits who inhabit the natural world and the gods and ancestors who inhabit other worlds, practitioners of these native spiritualities seek to gain knowledge and invoke aid and protection from these spirits, giving appropriate offerings in return. For our European ancestors, Druidry fulfilled all these roles.