Poetry as invocation....

I have begun reading Robert Graves 'The White Goddess' several times and not finished. Yet it is a thread book, that one can trace later texts to and that indeed traces threads back through time to the more ancient texts which he refers to. So Im trying again and I thought Id share a few tangents and tastes from chapter one....

Graves suggests that the traditions of the Welsh Bards were, like the Irish, memorised learnings of tales passed down to them by elders in their tradition, in a series of inititaion like revealments. A deepening of soul, echoed in the poetic words spoken, that could strip a man to the bone or flesh up his wounds.

He describes the evolution of different styles flowing on historically from such ways in Wales. The wandering minstrels, and the court bards. The courtly poets being subject to pressures of content and form by king, then church (recorded in its written texts). Whilst the other was free to perform in any manner they preferred,  indeed suggesting that they held some of the previous magical use of the word that traditional Welsh poetry is honoured for. Poetry as invocation, but of what?

This is where Graves introduces his theme of she who 'will suddenly transform herself into sow, mare, bitch, vixen, she-ass, weasel, serpent, owl, she wolf, tigress, mermaid or loathsome hag. Her names and titles are innumerable. In ghost stories she often figures as 'The White Lady', and in ancient religions from the British Isles to Caucasus, as 'The White Goddess.' Indeed, Graves puts forward that the best of poetry is dedicated to a vision of her, that makes the hairs on ones arm stand on end. She is the muse of the master poet. In parallel dancing her relationship to the God, echoed in seasonal cycles of death and rebirth, as also proposed in Fraziers 'The Golden Bough'. 

Both these texts were about unearthing prechristian traditions. They went on to influence later minds like Gerald Gardner, and in the case of the Golden Bough, also the patterns of annual festivals celebrated by many pagans today. They are of another time, the 50s and 60s, but i do believe they hold keys. 

 Caitlan Mathews quotes Wallace Black Elk in reference to the piecing together of whats been left to us by previous generations, 'There is ' he said, 'no such thing as a forgotten tradition. It is possible to neglect such traditions, but these can always be recovered. No tradition ever dies until the last person who honours it dies.

"Discover thou what is
The strong creature from before the flood,
Without flesh, without blood,
Without head, without feet,
It will neither be older nor younger
Than at the beginning;
For fear of a denial,
These are no rude wants
With creatures.
Great God! how the sea whitens
When first it comes!
Great are its gusts
When it comes from the south;
Great are its evaporations
When it strikes on coasts.
It is in the field, it is in the wood,
Without hand and without foot,
Without signs of old age,
Though it be co-eval
With the five ages or periods;
And older still,
Though they be numberless years.
It is also so wide;
As the surface of the earth;
And it was not born,
Nor was it seen.
It will cause consternation
Wherever God willith.
On sea, and on land,
It neither sees , nor is seen.
Its course is devious,
And will not come when desired
On land and on sea
It is indespensible.
It is without an equal,
It is four sided,
It is not confined,
It is uncomparable;
It comes from four quarters;
It will not be advised,
It will not be without advice.
It commenceth its journey
Above the marble rock.
It issonorous, it is dumb,
It is mild,
It is strong, it is bold,
When it glances over the land,
It is silent, it is vocal,
It is clamorous,
It is the most noisy
On the face of the earth.
It is good, it is bad,
It is extremely injurous,
It is concealed,
Because sight can not percieve it.
It is noxious, it is benificial;
It is yonder, it is here;
It will decompose,
But will not repair the injury;
It will not suffer for its doings,
Seeing it is blameless.
It is wet, it is dry,
It frequently comes,
Proceeding from the heat of the sea,
And the coldness of the moon.
The moon is less benificial,
In as much as her heat is less.
One being has prepared it,
Out of all creatures,
By a tremendous blast,
To wreak vengence
On Maelgwyn Gwynedd."

It is 'The Wind'. Riddled by Taliesan as a child....

Resources:
Lyra Celtica: An Anthology of the Poetry of the Celt, edited by EA Sharp and J Matthay, 1896
The Encyclopedia of Celtic Wisdom: The Celtic Shamans Sourcebook by Caitlan and John Mathews, 1994
The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion by Sir James Frazer, 1950
The White Goddess by Robert Graves, 1962