Connecting with Old Gods: A Personal Reflection

Me and Cerri were in the back of Kristoffer Hughes’ car. It was September 2020, and there was a break in the Pandemic Lockdown so we’d taken the opportunity to get away for a weekend to Wales to see our friends. We were driving through the North Wales countryside and Kristoffer was telling us the names of the mountains, lakes and regions we were driving through. I’ve always found Kristoffer’s love of his language and culture an inspiration. He was my go-to advisor when it came to honouring the Welsh language by getting the names and places pronounced correctly in my Y Mabinogi albums, and his books and insights into the myths through what I’ve called ‘linguistic archaeology’ have brought them to life even more over the years. The Old Brythonic stories were the keys to my Pagan Path, and I love them all still. But driving with him on that day, I realised that I knew so very little about my own language and history – I’d focused entirely on the Brythonic. I didn’t know the roots of the words I spoke, the names of the places where I lived, the days of the week I had heard all my life, or the Old English view of the magical and secular world. So in the back of the car that day, inspired once more by my dear friend Kristoffer, I made the decision to change that.

So for the last 5 years, I’ve taken a very deep dive into Old English, the history of these islands from the end of the Roman period to 1066, but something else happened during that time – I lost both of my parents. When Dad was dying, I found myself dreaming of a beautiful woman in a feathered cloak surrounded by cats. I had no idea who she was – some of you will be nodding your heads, knowing exactly who was visiting me in my dreams. Then, while walking Oscar, I was regularly visited by two crows. Sometimes they would just walk beside me, sometimes they would fly so close I would have to duck my head. Then a man joined the woman in my Dreams, a man with a green leafy face, then another holding a strange stringed instrument.

So I asked the question, “Who are you?”

“Freya, Ing, Bragi, and this,” she said, pointing to a mysterious figure in the shadows, “is Woden.”

I woke up. There was something in me that was concerned. I’d been working with the Brythonic Gods all of my Pagan life. Tradition, and a lot of books, it has to be said, tell me that these Gods would not get on. My gut told me that these were ancestral Gods and Spirits that were connected to my parents, and that they were here for two reasons: 1) because of all of the exploration I’d been doing into Old English, and 2) because my parents were dying. These were their ancestral Gods too.

But I kept the door closed. I just didn’t think they would get along with Ceridwen, Taliesin, Bran, Branwen, Arianrhod, Gwydion, and all of the other Gods I had walked with over the years.

The dreams kept happening.

The crows kept walking with me.

Then, Dad died.

Mum was broken. I had to put my feelings to one side and be with her. But one day, when I was in my studio room meditating, I saw a mist appear, and from that mist a young woman walked towards me. If you have been a fan of the Sandman graphic novels (yes I know the complications now, but nonetheless), you will have experienced the character of Death. That is who it felt like this woman was. She felt gentle, caring, full of compassion and understanding. She took my hand, and I let my emotions go. She caught every tear and turned each one into a star, full of love.

She held me. Without speaking, she told me her name. “I am Hel”.

I couldn’t keep the door closed any longer. I had to let them in. Just trust. So I did.

I opened the door and in they walked – I was prepared for chaos…

Bragi walked over to Taliesin, and they shook hands. He showed him his Anglo-Saxon Lyre, and looked at Taliesin’s Harp. They smiled, laughed, and told each other their stories.

In stepped Woden, who approached Ceridwen. “I have heard of your Cauldron of Awen! Let me tell you of my Mead of Poetry!”

Njord sat with Llyr and talked of the shore and the deep ocean.

Thunor sat with Taranis and discussed their power as the weather and the storm.

And on it continued. There was no fighting, no disagreement. I realised then that all of the baggage we place upon these Gods, these Spirits, is ours. It’s our human baggage, not theirs. I understood in that moment that they were the embodiment of huge natural forces. That every animistic culture would have seen the power of the ocean, the weather, poetry, magic and death, and would have given those enormous Spirits whose their lives depended on, names in their own languages. Then Bards, Skalds, and Scops would have Journeyed, seen, and created stories and poetry that embodied these powers, told of their relationships, their character, spoken again and again in those languages.

But the Elemental Forces, the Gods/Spirits they told of, were the same.

I will always love the Brythonic myths, and I’ve just finished recording the 4th Branch of the Mabinogi, which will be out in January or February 2026. I have honoured my promises to those Spirits whose Brythonic names I have spoken for over 30 years. My exploration of the Old English Gods, stories, language, and magic continues. I’ve found that the Old English Runes feel incredibly natural to use, as if I knew them already, and as I’ve explored the Old English language, that is no surprise, as so many of the Old English Rune names are still a part of the language I speak every day.

The Old English had Druids, whom they called Drymann. The people revered trees; they worshipped in Sacred Groves, beside Sacred Wells, they believed in Other Worlds, the beings of Nature were Elves, and that name encompassed the vast range of Otherworldly Beings. As each part of Old English mythology is revealed to me, I find I have been there before, but I had spoken other names. I am absolutely sure that some of you Heathens reading this will be just wondering how this can all be new to me, but I will say that it’s a very exciting journey.

When I lay upon the curve of Thundersbarrow Hill all those years ago and was inspired to write the song, I should have known that a new circle of experience would open to me eventually. The overlap of the ancient ways of the peoples of this island is huge, the historical relationship is complex and intertwined far more deeply than I’d been led to believe by the ‘history’ I’d been taught and told. If anything, this journey has brought me closer to my relationship to these glorious islands, their peoples, history, and stories.

I’m sure new songs will be forming soon!