Gaulish cosmology – Bessus Nouiogalation

Dêuoi Olloi — All the Gods of Bessus Nouiogalation | Gaulish Polytheism

Written by Branos Carnutodrûidion/Urādos – Gutuatir of BNG

Within Bessus Nouiogalation, we honor many Dêuoi (Gods) and Dêuâs (Goddesses), Cintuxtoi (The first Ones), and Biuiti (Being, Creatures, Entity), each with their own nature, essence, and presence. On our site, you will find sections dedicated to them. There is much to explore, and it may take some time to navigate and reach the heart of how each one serves within our Bessus.

What I have done here is taken our main write-ups and simplified them, making it easier to get to the point — to offer a clearer understanding of their place and function within our living tradition.

This does not mean that this is the only way to view them, for they are beyond identification and beyond words. Nor does it mean that you yourself might not focus on different aspects of them within your own home or practice. Rather, this list serves as a guide to understanding how they are approached and honored within the framework of our Bessus.

Dêuoi (Gods) and Dêuâs (Goddesses)

Abnobâ – Guardian of the wilderness, guiding us to protect nature, honor the mysteries of the night, and embrace the ever-changing flow of life.

Aidonâ – Hearth Dêuâ, embodying the essence of fire as a source of warmth, spiritual connection, and communal unity.

Aisus – Celestial woodsman and Dêuos of Drus, teaching the care of sacred spaces, the proper execution of ritual, and the maintenance of cosmic order.

Ambicatus – Ancestral king and legendary leader, symbolizing the expansion of the Gauls, guiding the community through auspicious beginnings, and marking the historical and spiritual calendar.

Artiû – Dêuâ of bears and seasonal cycles, offering protection, wisdom, and guidance through the natural world and the hidden realms of dream and subconscious.

Auetâ – Dêuâ of fertility, motherhood, and midwifery, nurturing life, safeguarding children, and sustaining the vital cycles of growth and renewal.

Belinos – Primal Dêuos of cosmic balance, sustaining the Fire in Water beneath the World Tree and guiding prophecy and the unfolding of universal cycles.

Brigindû – Warrior and celestial protectress, safeguarding homes, tribes, and nations while upholding justice, law, and cosmic order.

Carnonos – Dêuos of liminality and thresholds, guiding travelers and souls, mediating between the sacred and ordinary, and navigating the spaces between worlds.

Catuboduâ – Guardian and guide of the fallen, overseeing transitions in death and escorting souls to the afterlife, especially those who meet valorous ends.

Celtînâ – Mother ancestor and partner of Ogmios, embodying strength, valor, and beauty while giving birth to Galatos, the eponymous founder of the Galatis.

Ðironâ – Dêuâ of healing, fertility, and liminal transitions, guiding physical, mental, and mystical restoration through springs, stars, and seasonal cycles.

Eponâ – Multifaceted Dêuâ of the Wild Hunt, fertility, sovereignty, and psychopomp, leading souls, nurturing the land, and ensuring harvests and winter solstice rites.

Gobannos – Divine smith and master craftsman, shaping both material and spiritual worlds while instructing in transformation and the magical art of creation.

Grannos – Solar Dêuos and healer, radiating warmth and illumination, curing ailments, and restoring vitality through sacred waters and far-reaching insight.

Lugus – Multifaceted Dêuos of craftsmanship, war, travel, oaths, and harvest, safeguarding sovereignty, prosperity, and the skills of the community.

Maponos – Youthful Dêuos of music, creativity, and healing, inspiring artistic expression and emotional renewal while connecting us to the Otherworld.

Materês – Cosmic nurturers and protectors of fate, guiding destinies, fostering growth, and maintaining harmony within the unfolding patterns of life.

Morisenon – Shapeshifting Dêuos of the sea and the unknown, guardian of transitions, revelation, and hidden knowledge, guiding those who seek truth through the mysteries of life, death, and the Otherworld.

Nantosueltâ – Dêuâ of prosperity, domesticity, and the cycles of life and death, nurturing both the living and the dead while guiding followers through the eternal rhythms of existence.

Nemetonâ – Guardian Dêuâ of sacred spaces and rituals, embodying the essence of sanctuaries, groves, and ceremonies, ensuring the presence of holiness wherever invoked.

Ogmios – Dêuos of eloquence, persuasion, and binding words, guiding followers in right speech (Îanolabâ) and serving as the ancestral patriarch of the Gauls.

Rosmertâ – Dêuâ of prosperity, harvest, wisdom, and prophecy, nurturing the land and its people while shaping the destiny of those who honor her.

Sucellos – Chthonic Dêuos of the earth, fertility, and boundaries, wielding a mallet to cultivate and protect the land while guiding the living and deceased through Antumnos.

Suleuiâs – Eternal guides and protectors, guarding the sanctity of homes, persons, and the decisions we make in daily life.

Taranis – Celestial father of storms and thunder, upholding cosmic order and bestowing the fundamental virtues (Îanoi) to guide existence.

Toutatis / Galatos – Guardian of the tribe and custodian of the community’s soul, shielding the people from harm and ensuring collective safety.

Cintuxtoi (The First Ones)

Dêiuos – The shining Sky Father, embodiment of Aððus, the Right Order of all things. He watches over the heavens and the turning of the cosmos, teaching the balance and harmony that govern both gods and people.

Litauiâ – The great Earth Mother, foundation of life and the breath of all that grows. She nurtures the soil, the forests, and every living being, holding the cycles of birth, growth, and renewal in her care.

Sonnos – The radiant Sun, whose fire awakens and empowers all life. He brings warmth, clarity, and illumination, guiding the day and energizing the land, the people, and the deeds they undertake.

Lugrâ – The Moon, guide of time, whose phases shape our months, sacred work, and nightly reflection. She rules the ebb and flow of tides, dreams, and the hidden rhythms of life.

Cauaroi – The Giants, primal forces of chaos and disorder. They test boundaries, challenge complacency, and remind all beings of the wild and unpredictable aspects of creation.

Biuiti (Being, Creatures, Entity)

Ueranadoi – Those Above, celestial watchers of the sky. They move unseen, guiding the heavens and lending their light to the paths of the living.

Bituatîs – Land spirits who dwell among the hills, forests, and fields. They whisper to those who listen, offering guidance and presence in the living world.

Abonatîs – Spirits of the rivers and flowing waters. They nurture life, connect the lands, and remind us of the ceaseless movement of time and renewal.

Acaunatîs – Spirits of the stones and rocks. Steadfast and enduring, they teach patience, resilience, and the quiet strength of the earth.

Allatatîs – Spirits of the wilds. They roam the forests and open spaces, untamed and free, reminding us of the beauty and power of nature beyond human order.

Uanderos – Wild centaurs, embodiments of freedom and the untamed spirit of the wilderness. They guide travelers and those who seek courage in the unknown.

Uiduiros – Wood-walkers, guardians of the deep forests. Mysterious and elusive, they teach respect for the wild and the primal rhythms of life.

Blâtuatîs – Spirits of the flowers, blossoms of fleeting beauty. They inspire wonder, gratitude, and the joy of life’s ephemeral moments.

Brigatîs – Spirits of the hills, perched high with watchful eyes. They protect the land and all who dwell upon it, offering stability and oversight.

Caitatîs – Children of the forests, guardians of trees and creatures. They hold the pulse of the woodland and remind us of the harmony between all beings.

Cucullatis – Hooded spirits of hidden knowledge, sometimes healers, sometimes guides. They move in shadows, revealing wisdom to those who seek it with reverence.

Ditrebatîs – Spirits of deserts and barren lands. They endure where life is sparse, teaching resilience, patience, and the ways to survive against all odds.

Gortiatîs – Spirits of gardens and cultivated lands. They nurture the growth of life, teaching care, stewardship, and gratitude for abundance.

Glendatîs – Spirits of riverbanks and shores. Liminal beings, they dwell where land meets water, guiding transitions, journeys, and change.

Locuatîs – Spirits of lakes and reservoirs. Still and deep, they inspire reflection and tranquility, guarding the waters that sustain communities.

Moniiatîs – Spirits of mountains. Towering, enduring, and vigilant, they teach reverence for the heights and patience in facing great challenges.

Moriatîs – Spirits of the sea, vast and unpredictable. They move in tides and storms, reminding us of the power and mystery of the waters.

Nantuatîs – Spirits of the valleys. Nurturing and protective, they support the life within their sheltered lands, teaching the gifts of sustenance and care.

Tegatîs – Spirits of the home, guardians of hearth and family. They bless the living space with comfort, security, and sacred presence.

Uoberatîs – Spirits of springs. They flow with life-giving water, offering purity, healing, and renewal to those who honor them.

Anderoi – Those Below, chthonic beings of the earth. They watch over the hidden realms and the cycles of life and death beneath the surface.

Angos – Dragons of chaos and renewal. Mighty and fearsome, they embody destruction and rebirth, testing courage and teaching transformation.

Corros – Dwarves and smiths of the underworld. Masters of craft and ingenuity, they forge treasures from the earth and guide those who seek skill and artistry.

Croucatîs – Spirits of mounds, keepers of ancestral lands. They preserve the cycles of life and death, ensuring memory and legacy endure.

Antumnatîs – Those of Antumnos, dwellers of the Otherworld. They cross between life and death, guiding the unseen and the liminal.

Dusios – Mischievous and seductive spirits, revelers in the wild. They teach caution, restraint, and the playful yet dangerous side of nature and desire.

Logatîs – Spirits of graveyards and cemeteries. They honor the dead, holding vigil and guiding the living in remembrance.

Uernos – Guardians of the cemetery, vigilant and steadfast. They watch over the resting places, preventing desecration and ensuring sacredness.

Matican – Horned serpents of wilderness thresholds. Ancient and untamed, they mark the boundaries between known and unknown, nature and spirit.

Scaxslos – Phantoms and spectral ancestors. They linger between worlds, offering guidance, warnings, or echoes of the past.

When the Year Was Born — Samonios, the Gaulish New Year, and the Coligny Calendar

Written by Branos Carnutodrûidion/Urādos – Gutuatir of BNG

Among modern Celtic-inspired traditions, Samhain is often seen as the “Celtic New Year,” a festival marking the descent into winter. However, a close reading of the ancient Coligny Calendar it reveals a fundamental contradiction to this popular interpretation. The Gaulish year does not begin in darkness but with Samonios, a month whose name and timing signal warmth, light, and the primacy of vitality at the year’s outset. This challenges widespread views and reframes our understanding of the Gaulish annual cycle.

This observation raises a deeper question, both linguistic and spiritual: how did a word originally associated with summer come to be associated with the beginning of winter?

The Etymology of Samonios

The name Samonios (samon-) is linguistically connected to the Proto-Celtic root samo-, meaning “summer.” Cognates appear across the Celtic languages. Old Irish sam, Welsh haf, Breton heven, and Gaulish samonios all refer to summer or the warm season. This suggests that Samonios was originally the summer month—a fitting beginning for the bright half of the year (Samos). Much of the confusion about its meaning comes from later Irish parallels, particularly Samhain, which marks the descent into Giamos (darkness, winter). Some scholars have suggested that Samonios may mean “end of summer” or even “assembly,” viewing the word from a ritual or social perspective rather than a seasonal one.

To further probe this question, consider that the better key to understanding Samonios lies not in its own ambiguity — but in its counterpart, Giamonios.

It’s hard to say what many Coligny months mean. Most interpretations hinge on Samonios—“summer,” “end of summer,” or “gathering.” Instead, we should start with the less disputed Giamonios. The root giam links directly to Proto-Celtic gīamos, meaning “winter” or “cold.” No one claims Giamonios means “winter’s end.” It clearly denotes the dark, cold season. This would be a poor choice for a summer month. This strongly implies Samonios and Giamonios are true opposites, structuring the calendar with a dual rhythm of light and dark.

Further evidence lies in the infix –on–, common in Gaulish divine and cosmic names (Tarvos Trigaranos, Maponos, Epona). It is often taken to mean “great” or “divine.” Thus, Samonios may carry the sense of “Great Summer” or “Divine Brightness.” Giamonios could mean “Great Winter.” They stand for the two vast halves of the sacred year.

Therefore, the Coligny Calendar begins in the season of light—Samonios. This directly refutes the widespread idea that the Celtic year starts in darkness. Instead, it demonstrates that, contrary to common belief, the ancient Gaulish year starts with vitality rather than decline. The Gauls seemed to have deliberately placed cosmic order at the heart of their calendrical beginning. This choice is mirrored in the Greek Attic calendar and is central to the Gaulish worldview.

From Samonios to Samhain: The Semantic Drift

As Celtic languages and cosmologies evolved, Samonios shifted in meaning toward the winter season. Its descendant, Old Irish Samain (later Samhain), was placed not at the start of summer but at winter’s threshold. This shift illustrates how a word tied to summer was semantically repurposed to signal the onset of winter as the Goidelic world redefined the year’s turning points.

Part of this transformation can be traced to Christianization. As Christianity spread across the Celtic-speaking regions, older seasonal festivals were recontextualized within the Christian liturgical year. The establishment of All Saints’ Day on November 1st directly overlapped with Samhain, strengthening the association of the festival with the descent into winter and with the veneration of the dead. This overlap reoriented both internal and cultural calendars, integrating older seasonal observances into the rhythm of Christian feast days.

Early Irish sources mirror this shift. The Sanas Cormaic lists Gaimain after Samain, fixing Samain in late autumn. Martyrologies like the Félire Óengusso and Annála Connacht also link Samain to winter, cold, darkness, and the beginning of the year’s waning half, in step with All Saints’ Day.

Brythonic languages kept the original meaning: Welsh haf and Breton hañv still mean “summer.” In Gaulish and Brythonic contexts, Samonios’ summer association persisted even as Goidelic traditions reinterpreted it for winter.

Samhain thus marks a deeper transformation than a mere linguistic shift. It embodies a process of semantic drift—where words change meaning over time—reflected in the shift from naming the ‘month of summer’ (Samonios) to marking the onset of winter (Samhain). This drift happened gradually as changing cultural, religious, and social realities redefined the word’s role. Shaped by evolving cosmologies, regional distinctions, and the Christian reinterpretation of indigenous seasonal markers, the term that originally meant the entrance into summer eventually came to signify the beginning of winter. This shift demonstrates how a festival rooted in summer evolved, through reinterpretation, to signal the arrival of winter.

Time, Decolonization, and the Gaulish Perspective

For many who engage with Bessus Nouiogalation (BNG), the most significant distinction is that the year begins in spring or early summer rather than in fall or winter. This fundamental shift alters our cosmological orientation. While the ancient Gauls—our ancestors—held diverse perspectives and were not bound by identical rituals, BNG is rooted in intentionally moving away from Western seasonal and religious frameworks, which typically start with decline rather than growth.

Decolonizing practice is not just rejection—it is reorientation. It means reclaiming the Gaulish view of time: not linear from birth to death, but circular, with light and dark generating one another.

Yet why did the Gauls begin the year in the bright season, when their mythology often highlights night, Antumnos (the Otherworld), and the depths of Dubnos (The lower world)? They started days at nightfall and believed themselves born from the Otherworld—ideas seemingly more in line with winter.

Perhaps because light is born from darkness, to begin the year in light-honored creation. As dawn follows night, Samos rises from Giamos. Seeds buried in the earth reach for light and warmth. The Gaulish year, split into two halves, joins rather than opposes them. The 19-year Metonic cycle reinforces this: time is a great spiral, always returning yet never the same.

Starting the year in Samos was not a denial of darkness—it affirmed that we carry light within despite our origins. The Gaulish calendar encodes a cosmic renewal: birth follows death, and it is light that marks the beginning.

The Flow from Samos to Giamos

Understanding Samonios as the start of the bright half of the year centers BNG’s argument: the Gaulish worldview begins with presence, vitality, and cosmic order, not absence or dissolution. Giamos, associated with darkness and decline, follows Samos in a necessary cycle, but the year’s initial movement is toward light and creation. Stating this principle foregrounds the intended argument: choosing to start the year in light is a deliberate cosmological statement about beginnings.

Reconsidering Trinux Samoni

It’s worth noting that many popular interpretations of the Coligny Calendar differ greatly from what the evidence suggests. As researcher Helen McKay aptly observes:

“Like the idea that Samhain starts the Celtic year – which it doesn’t, or that the Celts counted from the dark times of the day, month, and year – which they don’t, they only counted the day from sunset, just as most of their neighbours did, nothing more. Or that their lunar month started with the full moon, which it doesn’t. Or that the notation TRINUX SAMONI refers to three days of Samhain – which it doesn’t.”
— Helen McKay, “Where Does the Coligny Calendar Sit?”

Trinux Samoni, literally meaning “the three nights of Samonios,” did not signify the start of winter, but instead marked a liminal transition tied to renewal—most likely situated at the boundary of Samos, the bright half of the year. BNG’s approach aligns with this interpretation. When the evidence is considered outside modern seasonal frameworks, it is apparent that the year’s cycle commences with illumination. This does not deny darkness, but acknowledges that light emerges from it; we are born from darkness. Thus, the so-called “three nights of Samonios” represent not an entry into winter but an emergence into renewed vitality—rekindling cosmic order after Giamos. Here, at the beginning of the year, vitality first arises. More details on that holiday here.

Cintugiamos: The Descent and the Ancestral Turning

Within the modern practice of Bessus Nouiogalation (BNG), we still recognize a sacred time for death, descent, and remembrance — a festival called Cintugiamos. Occurring toward the end of autumn and the beginning of winter, it parallels Samhain in function but retains a distinctly Gaulish cosmological frame.

During Cintugiamos, the light of Samos wanes, and the days turn inward toward Giamos — the descent into Dubnos, the deep realm beneath all things. It is a time to look to the Regentiâ — the Ancestors — for guidance, as the veil between the realms thins.

Alongside the honored dead, we turn also to the ancestors of our Bessus: to Ogmios, master of eloquence and the binding power of words, and to Celtînâ, the deep well of wisdom and inspiration. Cintugiamos shows us that as light fades, wisdom deepens — that the turning inward is not an ending, but a communion with the roots that nourish life’s return. You can read more about Cintugiamos here.

References

Duval, P.-M. (1976). Les Celtes. Presses universitaires de France.
Olmsted, G. S. (1992). The Gaulish Calendar: A Reconstruction from the Coligny Calendar.
Lambert, P.-Y. (1994). La langue gauloise: Description linguistique, commentaire d’inscriptions choisies. Errance.
Green, M. (1992). Dictionary of Celtic Myth and Legend. Thames & Hudson.