Tag Archives: ritual scripts

Without a script

I want to talk today about the importance of not depending on a bit of paper in ritual. We don’t know much about the ancient Druids, one of the few things there is no doubt about is that theirs was an oral tradition. Bards and Druids alike expected to dedicate a lot of material to memory. This is a good thing, it means you have the words with you wherever you go, and no one can take them from you. I do understand that modern life tends not to encourage the hard work involved, but if you are serious about Druidry, this is a great place to start with really, seriously, doing it.

Paper is a problem in many ways. In low light, rain and wind, it can be unreadable, so if you were depending on it, you may be stuffed. It is a literal barrier between you and everyone else, it may seem small, but you will try to hide behind it. When you’re reading, you’re thinking about reading, not the meaning, not the people around you or the below or the sky above. With the words in your head, you have space to connect mentally with the space as you bring the words forth. If you’ve learned the words you’ve given time to pondering their depth and meaning, and you will speak them with feeling, insight, understanding, you will bring them to life. Even if you stumble and muff up a bit, it will be more alive. Lastly, if you really work and still don’t feel able to go without the paper, you’ll do a far better job for having tried to learn than if you’d gone the easy road in the first place.

I’m a big advocate of speaking in the moment. This takes confidence and practice, you need to know broadly what sort of thing to be saying, and so spending time with scripts can be a good preparation. Speaking in the moment, you can invoke awen and inspiration, you can respond to what’s around you, with feeling, making sense of your ritual space, your people, your experience. A script will not give you that, ever, it’s an imposition on the moment devised in advance based on assumptions about what you will get.

Part of this is about permission to mess up. You may forget the words. You may not spontaneously spout poetry. You may pause. But, you’ll have your head up, and you’ll be present. Whether working from memory or inspiration you will inherently be honouring the Druid tradition. You’ll be more real. We all muff up, that’s fine, it’s part of the learning process. You can’t open to the awen when you’re clinging to a bit of paper for protection, it doesn’t work that way. Learn the words, or don’t, but either way, dare to trust yourself. Dare to speak your Druidry in the moment, like you mean it. The difference is huge.

Ritual Language

Yesterday, Sorita d’Este raised the issue of how we use and understand ritual language. How important is it to know where the words come from and what they mean? I think this is a big issue for Druidry, so wanted to take some time to reflect upon it.

When I started exploring druidry, I knew very little about it. I started by attending rituals, where I was hearing ritual prayers with no idea of their source. I was educated enough to know that anything truly ancient would have been through the hands of a few translators, at the least, and that I would not be getting ancient Druidry in the raw. However, beyond that, I knew nothing whatsoever about druid history. I started reading around, finding conflicting ideas, but eventually I got some handle on what druid history there is, and some sense of where ritual words come from.

It would, however, be very easy to turn up casually to rituals, have no sense of where the language comes from, believe you are interacting with ancient druidry and continue accordingly. I think mostly what this means is that if we run ritual we have some responsibility for making sure that those attending know what’s going on, in terms of the source of words and content. I feel increasingly that rooting inspiration in individual humans is also important: it makes clear that we have had a hand in it, that it is not pure divine inspiration. There’s a whole other blog there waiting to happen.

But what about meaning? If we share the words of Iolo Morganwg, or some unnamed Mediaeval author, can we know what they meant? Can we hope to understand the significance of the words at the time of their being put together? I think we can’t. In fact I’d go further and say that we cannot understand what the words meant to any author, living or dead. I write things, and when I come back to them weeks, or months later, I don’t always know what I meant at the time, and as life changes, my understanding of my own words can change. Original meaning is probably a myth and unlikely to be useful.

What we do need, absolutely, is our own understanding of what the words mean. One of the effects of ritual repetition is the ease with which the words turn into ‘te tum te tum te tum te tum’ with about the same level of emotional resonance. Whatever words you are using, and wherever they came from, it pays to think about them. Contemplate their significance. Work out what they mean to you. Say them with an awareness of that meaning and they will become powerful.

One of the reasons I like working without scripts and formal language is that it reduces the risk of just rolling out the stock phrases, without consideration. When words have to be found in the moment we go that bit further in trying to make sense, and to reach after meaning and significance.  It is harder work, but worth it, I think. Ritual forms give a good framework, and familiarity with standard ways of calling for peace or to the quarters can be a great help, but having that freedom to think and create in the moment keeps us away from the te tum te tum te tum problem.