📜 Cerridwen, the Awen & the Power of Inspired Transformation. (Awen Inner Circle Exclusive)
- May 28
- 7 min read
Updated: May 29
The Myth of Cerridwen: A Magical Retelling
In the misty heart of ancient Wales, beside a dark lake fringed with reeds and memory, lived Cerridwen—witch, mother, alchemist, and keeper of the great Cauldron of Awen. She was wise beyond age, rooted in magic, and known for her deep devotion to both the sacred and the ordinary.
She had two children—one, beautiful and gifted. The other, Morfran, was said to be hideous in form. But Cerridwen, with her boundless heart, saw beyond appearances. She longed for her son to be wise, to hold power not of the body but of the spirit. So she began to brew a potion of Awen—the elixir of divine inspiration, insight, and poetic brilliance.
It would take a year and a day to complete.
Each morning she gathered herbs, rare and enchanted, singing spells into the roots and flowers. She chanted beneath moonlight, whispered over steam, and tended the fire with care. The brew needed to be stirred constantly, so she employed a young servant boy named Gwion Bach to watch the cauldron.
But fate has a mind of its own.
As the final day dawned, three drops of the true potion bubbled to the surface and splashed onto Gwion’s thumb. Burned by its heat, he instinctively placed it in his mouth.
In an instant, Awen filled him—truth, poetry, prophecy surged through his being. The rest of the potion turned to poison. And he knew Cerridwen would be furious.
So he ran.
And she chased.
What followed was a storm of shapeshifting—a dance of breathless, magical transformation.
Gwion leapt into the air and became a hare, bounding through the forest. Cerridwen transformed into a greyhound, fast and focused.
He dove into a river as a silver fish—she became a sleek otter, slicing through the water after him.
He burst from the stream as a bird, soaring with wide wings—she followed, a sharp-eyed hawk, swift and silent.
In desperation, Gwion turned himself into a single grain of wheat, suspended in the air, falling through golden light into a pile of grain in a quiet field.
Cerridwen followed from above, shifting as she landed into a black hen.
And she pecked, and pecked, and pecked—until she found him.
She swallowed him whole.
But instead of death, there was transformation. Within her womb, he grew again, reborn with divine wisdom. When the time came, Cerridwen gave birth to a radiant child. She could not bear to destroy him.
So she placed him in a coracle and set him upon the water, releasing her creation to the world.
That child became Taliesin, the great bard, bearer of sacred knowledge, and vessel of Awen.
The Meaning of Awen
Awen (pronounced “AH-wen”) is the divine breath of inspiration—the spark that moves through poets, seers, and artists. In Welsh tradition, Awen is sacred inspiration that flows through you, not from you. It is what Cerridwen brewed, what Gwion received, and what Taliesin embodied.
The symbol of Awen is formed of three rays, each topped by a circle, and contained within a larger circle. Its design holds many meanings, and like all sacred symbols, it speaks in layers:
The three rays are often seen as illumination, creativity, and harmony
The three dots represent the divine spark, spirit, or inspiration
The surrounding circle reflects wholeness, unity, and the continuous cycle of giving and receiving
And the number three is deeply magical:
The Triple Goddess: Maiden, Mother, Crone
The Threefold Law: what you send out returns threefold
The Moon Phases: Waxing, Full, Waning
The Creative Cycle: Idea – Creation – Release
Some say Cerridwen may not have even known she was brewing Awen. Perhaps she was simply tending her potion with love and purpose. But Awen emerged—through her magic, her effort, her transformation.
I carry a version of the Awen symbol in my brand’s logo as a reminder of this truth:
That inspiration moves through us.
That our offerings matter.
And that we are never the end—only the vessel.
Working with Cerridwen and the Awen: A Personal Reflection
I’ve always been a shapeshifter.
Even as a little girl, I could float between worlds—sitting at the adult table one moment, then spinning stories with my little cousins the next. I had friends in every group, moved through different social circles, and knew how to adapt to whoever I was with. (Very Gemini)
This ability to become what was needed has always been part of me.
Over the years I’ve worked in food and beverage, banking, been a national manager, mortgage officer, cleaner, milliner, personal trainer, fitness instructor, designer, makeup artist on catwalks, counsellor, massage therapist, meditation teacher, and Reiki practitioner. I’ve dressed as a hippie, a rockabilly, been sporty and spiritual. My hair has been every colour: black, blonde, red, pink, blue, turquoise.
Through it all, I was collecting. Just like Cerridwen gathered herbs, I was gathering skills, insights, knowledge, and experience.
After I became a mother and nursed my parents. I was enrolled in one course after another for over 15 years. I didn’t always know why. But I was healing. I was searching for meaning, trying to understand myself, my mind, my patterns, and the shape of my spirit.
Eventually, I found a spiritual practice to accompany my already witchy rituals. Through yoga and the chakra system, I learned how inspiration moved through the body. And then I discovered Awen, and I knew it was with me all along, I just didn't have a name for it.
And that’s when I stopped running—and began tending.
The Awen Room wasn’t just a name. It was the space where all of my shapeshifting could settle. A place for everything I’d gathered to be woven, stirred, and offered. It became my cauldron.
At first, I held tightly to what I created. I wanted recognition. I wanted people to name me as the source. But as I grew, I realised that my creations didn’t come from me. They moved through me. I was not the origin—I was the vessel.
Here a recent example of how The Awen works: One of my meditations, written years ago, found its way to a woman during a time of darkness. She didn’t know who I was. She just found the words. They helped her and she found me online. Years later, she found her way to this circle. There are many examples of this in my life. I also recently had a client come in, and she was wearing a hat, a sweet little brown felt cloche with an avacado green velvet ribbon and vintage stones. I had been seeing this client for over a decade. She took off her hat and causally laid it on her lap, it flipped and I saw the lining. Beautiful as ever...... My creation. She had been wearing it for almost 20 years, and seeing me for 10, I was the maker of her hat, and we had never known. How many more of "my" (Awen's) creations are out in the world, living and lifting others?
That is the gift of Awen.
I no longer shape-shift for others. These days, I prefer the quiet of home, the company of my circle, my children, and Adam. I tend what is mine to tend. I create what is mine to create. But I do shape shift into differnt roles throughout the rythem of my week. Mother, wife, cleaner, counsellor, healer and more. On my terms.
This circle—this community—is my living grimoire. A nod to my magical and spiritual practices.
Perhaps it will one day become a book.
Perhaps it will be passed to my children.
Or maybe… it will find its way to someone I will never meet.
Just like Cerridwen, I can’t control where my magic lands.
But I still stir the pot.
I still gather the herbs.
I still trust the spark.
Because I’ve learned:
I am the cauldron—not the product.
And that’s enough.
Living Cerridwen’s Wisdom in Gemini Season
Follow your curiosity, even if you don’t know where it leads.
Gemini energy encourages exploration for its own sake. Inspiration often arrives from wandering, not planning. Like Cerridwen gathering herbs, begin even if you don’t yet know why.
Brew slowly and honour what you’re gathering.
Let ideas percolate. Let thoughts take shape. There’s a sacred rhythm in the waiting. Gemini moves fast, but transformation asks for time.
Embrace your adaptability as sacred.
Shape-shifting isn’t chaos—it’s resilience. Becoming what’s needed in each moment is an art. Honour your ability to dance with change.
Let your creations go.
Not everything you make is meant to stay in your hands. Give freely. Trust that your magic will land where it needs to. Release the need to know where or how.
Remember: You are the cauldron, not the product.
Your gift is in the tending, in the trusting, in the offering. The magic moves through you. You hold the space. That is enough.
Journaling Prompts
What knowledge, experience, or inspiration am I currently brewing in my life?
Where am I being called to shapeshift—or to stay rooted?
What am I holding too tightly that I need to let go of?
How does inspiration move through me—and how can I honour it more fully?
In what ways have I already become the keeper of my own cauldron?
Ritual: Awakening the Awen
Create a quiet, reflective space. You may wish to include:
A bowl or cauldron
Three candles to represent the rays of Awen
A feather or incense for Air
A stone or crystal for Earth
A small vessel of water
A piece of paper and pen
Breathe.
Take three deep, intentional breaths. Inhale Awen. Exhale doubt.
Write.
On your paper, write:
“I am the cauldron. I tend, I trust, I transform.”
Then beneath that, write what you are ready to offer to the world—a creation, an insight, a service, a truth.
Light.
Light your candles. Fold or place the paper in your cauldron. Say aloud:
“Awen, flow through me. May what I create serve the world in its own perfect way.”
Close.
Sit in stillness. Let the energy settle. Know that your offering has begun its journey.
I have loved writing this for you. As always, it has been a deeply reflective and transformative process for me. I hope you feel inspired (if you do, that is the Awen!).
Blessed be
Angela
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