Pandora's Bazaar: Gwydion Pendderwen

Leaves fall from the dying trees,
Blown bare in tha autumn breeze,
Now locked in deep mysteries
He sleeps in the earth.

-- From Return of the King

According to my handy dandy Witches Datebook, Pagan bard Gwydion Pendderwen would have turned 60 this past weekend.

Let me begin by admitting that I'm not a big fan of Pagan music. It's usually too folksy, too goth, or too ethereal for my pop sensibilities. Yet for some reason, I like the music of Gwydion Pendderwen. It's very 60's, very folk-rock, the kind of stuff you might hear at a Renaissance Festival, but it's also so wonderfully pagan, almost liturgical.

Gwydion was born Thomas deLong on May 21 (or 22), 1946 in California. When he was just 13, he met and became a student of the blind seer and poet Victor Anderson of Feri Tradition and Gwydion became highly influential in establishing this tradition. In college, he majored in theater, displaying a real talent for storytelling.

Neo-Paganism was exploding in the 70's and in 1975 Gwydion released his first recording, Songs of the Old Religion. It included songs for the Sabbats and love songs to the God and Goddess. It brought Gwydion fame and standing in the Pagan community.

Deeply interested in the Celtic culture, Gwydion traveled to the British Isles in 1976. The trip had a profound influence on him. He met several important figures in the Wiccan movement, including Alex Saunders and Stuart Farrar, made pilgrimages to Ireland and Wales where he was honored for his music.

Gwydion returned to California, quit his job, and purchased a plot of the Greenfield Ranch in Mendocino County. He called Annwfn, after the Welsh underworld. In 1982, he released his second and final recording, The Faerie Shaman. Gwydion was killed in a car accident that same year. He was only 36.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there. I did not die.

-- From Goodbye