Tag Archives: Celts

Pranayama and the Celtic-Vedic Connection

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After pondering Peter Beresford Ellis’ introduction to Celtic Myths and Legends, where he postulates an affinity between the Celtic and Vedic cultures, based on their shared common root language, proto-Indo-European, I pulled this earlier poem out and thought of it in a purely Celtic mythos-mindset, as opposed to its original casting as a meditation on Hindu reality.

It seems to me that it can be read as if it were a Druidic meditation without violating any Celto-religious principles. There are definite resonances in my mind, which gives me insight into why the Vedas and Upanishads have always seemed such connecting threads to me, as someone of Celtic descent. I have always been drawn to what I would call Brahma/Dagda, as well as Shiva/Kernunnos (and I think it no accident that both are associated with, and familiar with, venomous snakes). And then there is the Morrigan/Kali connection – nurturing mother up close, but destroying black maelstrom from afar. Add to that the concept of sacred rivers (the Ganges versus the Danube, or River of Danu). Well, I was struck by this notion, particularly the similarity of some of the words between the two languages. And then, this evening, as I was doing a bit of meditation, I realized that “Awen” (pronounced ah-oo-en) and “Om” (pronounced ah-oo-em) are just too similar, in both purpose for recitation and pronunciation, for coincidence.

My questions are these:

Has there been any linguistic study that explores this connection?

Given the number of Celtic-oriented writers who also have an affinity for Vedic (and Upanishadic) literature (Yeats immediately springs to mind), and the similarity of the concepts contained in both Celtic mythology and Hindu mythology (take Kali and the Morrigan, for example), has there been any attempt in the Celtic pagan community to explore the commonalities in a more formal sense?

And three, just as it is complementary to study Japanese and Korean at the same time (the basic differences being vocabulary only), is there any identified benefit in studying Sanskrit as an aid to learning Gaelic, or visa versa?

Much food for thought.

Pranayama

Where am I in all of this confusion?
If I pause and take a moment to breathe,
letting go of this veil of illusion
[that separates (like two different leaves

along two slim branches that stretch their way
in opposite directions, yet never
touch, except through the trunk from which they splay)
with a soft touch easily severing

one’s sense of unity with all living]
just listening to the low, quiet breath
of an opened flower or an old tree,

I recognize myself; my misgivings
about my life’s purpose that make me fear death
fade away. I am at peace, at last free.

Am I just motion in some great chaos?
If I release this cloud from deep inside,
letting the soft flow of air slip across
my tongue and pursed lips, it does not collide

with the not-me of the universe, but
instead melts back into a single stream
of boundless energy that we each cut
and divide into our separate dreams,

imagining that these walls we construct
are so solid, so real, unbreakable.
Yet in a single breath these veils shatter,

our isolation seems to self-destruct,
and those beliefs once so unshakeable
crumble in the still space beyond matter.

04 APR 2003

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The Celt and the Kiowa

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When I drink, said the Celt, the world loses its edge,
and the universe comes into view;
my sad, suicide culture steps back from the ledge,
and the words of the poets come true.

There is hope for my race, and its future is clear,
the spirits of the land speak out;
my madness is cured, and those things I hold dear,
from the shadows can find their way out.

As for me, said the Kiowa, when I abstain,
the connectedness of life shows through;
and the sacred becomes easier to explain –
it is part of each act that I do.

‘Tis the whiskey, the Celt said, that loosens the mind;
and yet sober, the Kiowa said, truth I find.

When I drink, said the Kiowa, things fall apart,
and a madness consumes life and hope;
as my path winds along weary paths without heart,
chasing shadows that bind me, like rope.

There is nothing left to me, no vision or dreams,
only sadness and endless travail;
and the fabric of sanity frays at the seams,
taking my strength and leaving me frail.

As for me, said the Celt, when I put down the glass,
the ugliness seeps through my pores;
and the worst expectations soon all come to pass –
the sickness of famine and wars.

‘Tis the whiskey, the Kiowa said, that brings death;
and yet sober, the Celt said, life is wasted breath.

03 DEC 2002

A few weeks ago my wife Sondra and I were having a discussion, and one of the topics that came up was my perception of the similarity between Native American and Celtic spirituality. Granted, much has been made of this supposed “correlation” in a number of “new age” and so-called serious “magical” studies, but there is a point that I identified that I think many have missed. That is the predilection that both peoples seem to have to use and in many cases abuse alcohol.

While this may seem a somewhat superficial insight, it takes on a deeper significance when you consider that the Celt and the Native American seem to have opposite reactions to alcohol. To stereotype a great deal, when the Native American is sober, their spirituality seems to be a positive interaction with the earth; but a drunk Native is likely to be bitter, mean and trouble. On the contrary, when an Celt is sober, their worldview is often bleak,dreary and negative; however, once they are drunk, they tend to wax poetic, to see the heroic and universal in a more clear light.

Maybe this is PURE speculation. Maybe not. In any event, I wrote a poem today that explores this dichotomy/parallel.

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