Wed 24 May 2006
Ty Nant
Posted by Dragon under Celtic Studies, Bardic Arts, Philosophy
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There I was strolling through Albertson’s when I spied a cobalt blue bottle winking at me from a bottom shelf in the international foods section. Well, I guess in reality what caught my attention was a label which said Ty Nant. You see Ty Nant is Welsh for house by the brook or house by the stream. Naturally I was curious about this lovely bottle with the Welsh label.
As it turns out Ty Nant is bottled spring water from the village of Bethania in northwest Wales.
Bethania is a small village just south of Blaenau Ffestiniog. The closest large towns are Caerarfon and Bangor both of which are about 40 miles north through the mountains. Of course one can always take the Ffestiniog narrow guage railway to Porthmadog on the coast. Once noted for local quarries, Bethania now reaches from the wilds of north Wales to the world with spring water!
Who is to say that this water, pumped from the earth and bottled, is not from an aquifer serving the sacred wells of Wales? Certainly it has percolated through the stone heart of some of the most sacred landscape in all the world. But then it’s just water…water that just happened to find its way to a shelf in a market in Louisiana and just happened to catch the eye of a confirmed “Cymruophile” who just happened to be walking by. It’s just water…or is it?
Sacred Wells of Wales
They wait in silence,
those Wells of Wales,
those Sacred Wells.
They wait in stony, earthy, watery silence.
I hear snippets of stories told
by those silent stones of old,
stones that protected well
those Ancient Wells,
some clearly defined as in the light of
of a sunny, summer’s day,
some crumbling until there’s only gravel
scattered in that moist and blessed soil,
some have vanished,
hidden in the mists of time.
Look you then, for guardian trees,
sacred trees, Hawthornes perhaps, inhabited by faeries
and if you’re still, very still,
you may yet see the well that was –
you may even feel the dragon’s breath.
Will they welcome me,
those sacred wells,
when I am old and my journey’s nearly done?
Will the oldest of the ancients
share their secrets?
For even though their stones have crumbled
and the seep is almost dry,
the Goddess dwells, I know, in that moist and scared soil?
- Vi Jones ©May 18, 2004