TALIESEN

THE LAST CELTIC SHAMAN

 

By

John Matthews

 

Inner Traditions

One Park Street

Rochester, VT 05767

 

Trade Paperback, ISBN 089281869-7

357 pages, $16.95

 

Previously published in Bloomsbury Review

 

 

 

Jim Harrison said, in our poetry our motives are utterly similar to those who made cave paintings or petroglyphs. This connection to our primal past comes to life in Taliesin: The Last Celtic Shaman, a study of myth, prophesy, poetry, ancient wisdom, and shamanic practices. John Matthews, the author of numerous books on Celts, defines shamanism as something which took place all over the ancient world, and that shamans were the interpreters of the gods, the doctors and inner guides of their people. They were not exactly a magician, not exactly a visionary, healer, or a poet but often someone who performed all these functions.

It is the intensity of his experience that makes him unique. His ability to extend his consciousness beyond that of the ordinary human being, and to control his movement through inner, as well as outer, space is without parallel.

 

Thus the shaman s attempt to take on the characteristics of another creature the strength of a bear or keen-sight of a hawk and leave the normal range of human consciousness to enter a more balanced, less complicated world, sometimes through dreams, drumming, trance, or hallucinogens. Such knowledge has been largely lost or distorted through the lens of Christianity, particularly the gloss added to the few surviving materials from centuries of monks copying old manuscripts. What Matthews does is trim away the gloss, seeking the heart of the words spoken by Taliesen (pronounced Tal-ee-ESS in), a 6th Century poet in a time when invading Saxons had pushed the Celts into Wales. Lost in private collections for hundreds of years, Taliesin s work was rediscovered in the 18th Century, yet he s still so obscure you can t find a reference to him in a common encyclopedia. Much of his work is heroic, boastful, the antithesis of today s tastes, but occasionally a fragment shines through, connecting us with the same element that compelled our ancestors to paint at Lascaux.

I have been in many shapes

before I assumed a constant form.

 

* * *

 

I have been a blue salmon.

I have been a dog;

I have been a stag;

I have been a roebuck on the mountain . . .

A hen received me . . .

I rested nine nights

In her womb a child . . .

I have been dead, I have been alive . . .

I am Taliesin.

 

There is something raw and essential here, something lost in modernity. The poet Gary Snyder said most of us don t know where our water comes from. Nor do most of us know our roots. What s apparent from Matthews work is how closely connected the Celts were to earth and sky, as were ancient people all over the world. Of particular significance to the Celts were the sacred groves of trees, documented as early as Tacitus in Germania, in which he said, The grove is the center of their whole religion. Chief among them were oaks, yew, ash, pine, and apple. And the law imposed a fine of one cow for cutting down any of them, a heifer for a limb or branch. So much a part of the culture was the natural world that each letter of the Ogam alphabet was named for a tree or bush. You d like to think the Celts were on to something that they instinctively knew trees breathed in carbon dioxide and breathed out oxygen, while we breathe in oxygen and breathe out carbon dioxide, a necessary and symbiotic relationship. It brings to mind the tale of the scientist who climbed the mountain in search of knowledge, only to reach the top of the peak to find an old mystic already there. Said Taliesin: I can frame what no tongue utters.

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