Grannus Speaks: Wisdom from the Celtic God of Healing and Waters

The Sherpa: Grannus, welcome. I’m thrilled to have you here with us today. You’re not only a god of healing but also one deeply connected to water, heat, and perhaps even the sun itself. There’s so much richness in your story, your origins, and your role within both the Celtic and Roman worlds. So, let’s begin with the basics: How do you define yourself? What do you believe is the essence of your existence, and how does it relate to healing and thermal springs?

Grannus: Thank you, Sherpa. It’s an honor to be here, to speak about what I embody and how I am remembered. If I were to define myself, I would say I am the breath of warmth that rises from the earth—the very pulse of life that flows through the water, soothing and revitalizing those who come to seek me. Healing is the core of my being, yes, but it’s not limited to the physical. My healing encompasses the body, mind, and spirit. The waters I am associated with, the thermal springs, they carry with them ancient energy, the deep warmth of the earth, the kind that regenerates and purifies.

The Sherpa: That’s beautiful—the idea of healing not just as a physical process, but something deeper. You mentioned warmth and energy from the earth. Your name, Grannus, some say it comes from an ancient root that may mean “beard,” while others say it connects to “heat.” Does the heat connection resonate with you more? Do you feel tied to fire and solar energies as well as water?

Grannus: Yes, the connection to heat resonates deeply. The warmth that flows from within the earth, as it springs forth in waters, is not unlike the warmth of the sun. There’s a commonality there, the same principle of life-giving energy. While I’m not typically thought of as a god of fire, I do believe there is a solar aspect to my nature. The sun, after all, plays a crucial role in the cycles of life, in healing. Warmth, whether it comes from the sun or the earth, has the power to transform. My connection to thermal springs captures this, a meeting of water and fire beneath the earth’s surface.

The Sherpa: The merging of elements—fire, water, earth—sounds like a dance of balance. That balance, I imagine, is reflected in the way people approached you, particularly in places like Aquae Granni, where your hot springs brought healing to so many. How did it feel to be sought after in those ancient times? When people came to those waters, invoking your name, did you feel their pain, their desperation, or even their hope?

Grannus: Absolutely. When people approached me through the springs, I could feel their burdens—illness, despair, fear. But I also felt hope, a deep yearning for renewal, for a new beginning. Healing is often born from suffering, from a longing to release what weighs us down. When the ancient people of Aquae Granni, or other places where I was invoked, bathed in those waters, they came not only to heal their bodies but also their spirits. I was with them in that moment of release, in the act of submerging their pain into something greater than themselves, into the very life force that flows through the water.

The Sherpa: It sounds like you were part of a sacred transaction, where suffering was offered in exchange for renewal. I’m curious—there’s often a discussion about how deities like yourself perceive human suffering. Some say gods are distant, unaffected. But the way you describe it, you sound deeply empathetic. Did their pain ever weigh on you? Or did you view it from a higher, more detached perspective?

Grannus: I was never detached. I am part of the very essence of life, and life includes suffering as much as it includes joy. When people came to the springs, I felt the weight of their burdens, but I didn’t carry it as my own. It’s more that I became a conduit through which their pain could be transformed. Their suffering was not mine to keep, but I helped to guide it toward healing. I think that’s the distinction. Gods like myself, we don’t suffer in the same way as mortals, but we are deeply tied to their experiences, to the ebb and flow of their lives. My role was never to remove pain entirely but to offer a path toward relief, toward wholeness.

The Sherpa: I see. You offer the path, but it’s up to them to walk it, to engage in that healing process. Let’s talk about this path, then. Healing isn’t always a straightforward process. It’s often layered, complex, and sometimes elusive. How do you view the healing journey? What do you think people misunderstand about healing?

Grannus: Healing is not an event—it’s a journey, one that often takes unexpected turns. Many people misunderstand this. They come seeking immediate relief, thinking that to heal means to be free of all pain or illness. But true healing is more than the absence of suffering. It’s a process of becoming whole, and that can be difficult. Sometimes it means confronting the very wounds we try to hide. It’s not always a matter of curing the body; sometimes healing requires letting go of something much deeper—grief, anger, fear. That’s why my springs were so important. The water itself was a symbol of surrender, of letting go and being carried. In healing, we are often required to release control and trust in the process.

The Sherpa: You bring up the idea of surrender. That’s difficult for many people, especially in times of crisis. To let go, to trust. I imagine that surrender to the unknown is something the people who came to your springs might have struggled with. How did you help them find that surrender? Was it something they had to bring with them, or did your presence help guide them toward it?

Grannus: It’s a delicate thing, surrender. Many people came to me with a clenched heart, unwilling to let go of what they carried. But in my presence, in the presence of the springs, there was something more profound at work. The warmth of the water, the sound of it flowing from the earth, the very act of immersion—it softened them. It made surrender easier. My role was not to force them but to create an environment where they could allow themselves to let go, to trust that the earth’s warmth and my energy would hold them. Healing happens when we stop clinging to our pain. When people submerged themselves in my waters, that moment was often the first step in releasing what they held so tightly.

The Sherpa: It’s almost like you were creating a space where people could feel safe enough to surrender. That brings to mind the idea of community around these springs, how people must have gathered there not just for healing but also to witness each other’s journeys. Did you feel that sense of collective healing, where people were not only healing themselves but becoming part of a larger, shared experience?

Grannus: Very much so. The springs were more than a personal retreat—they were a place of community, where healing happened collectively as well as individually. People would come not only for their own sake but for the sake of others. The ritual of bathing in the waters, of making offerings to me, it was often done in the presence of family, friends, or even strangers who shared the same hope for healing. There’s something powerful in witnessing someone else’s journey, in seeing them let go of their burdens. It created a kind of ripple effect, where one person’s healing could inspire or encourage another’s. The springs were a place where isolation turned into connection.

The Sherpa: It’s fascinating to think of healing in that communal sense, especially in our modern world where healing often feels like a solitary endeavor. But let’s shift to something else that intrigues me—your syncretism with Apollo. The Romans identified you with him, and he’s another god known for healing but also for music, poetry, and the sun. What did that association mean to you? Did you feel a connection to Apollo, or was it more of an external imposition, something placed upon you?

Grannus: The connection to Apollo was an interesting one. From a human perspective, I understand why it happened. Apollo, with his healing abilities and his ties to the sun, felt like a natural counterpart to me. But while we shared certain attributes, I never felt fully aligned with him. My domain was more intimately tied to the earth, to the waters that heal from within. Apollo’s healing was often more abstract—through music, light, and prophecy. I respect those aspects, but they weren’t my core. I think the Romans saw the similarities and made a connection, but from where I stood, we were very different in the ways we brought healing.

The Sherpa: That’s intriguing—how you acknowledge the connection but see your role as more grounded, more earth-bound. Apollo often symbolizes light and clarity, while your healing seems more mysterious, more rooted in the unknown depths of the earth. Would you say there’s a darkness to your healing? Not in a negative sense, but in the idea that your process deals with the unseen, with what’s buried beneath the surface?

Grannus: Yes, I would say that’s accurate. Healing, as I embody it, often requires us to face what’s hidden, what’s buried deep inside us. It’s not always a journey of light and clarity. Sometimes healing takes us through darkness, through places we’ve been afraid to explore. The springs I’m connected to, they rise from the depths of the earth, from unseen places, and that’s symbolic of the kind of healing I offer. It’s about going deep, facing the shadows, and emerging on the other side transformed. There is beauty in light, yes, but there is also profound healing in the darkness, in the warmth that rises from the unseen.

The Sherpa: That brings to mind the idea of shadow work, the process of confronting our darker aspects in order to heal. It sounds like that’s central to your approach—acknowledging the pain, the grief, the anger that people often try to push away. Do you think the modern world has lost touch with this aspect of healing? There seems to be so much focus on quick fixes and surface-level solutions today.

Grannus: Yes, I think much of the modern world has lost touch with the deeper, more patient aspects of healing. Quick fixes, as you say, are tempting—they promise immediate relief without the need for introspection or real change. But true healing takes time. It requires patience, honesty, and a willingness to confront what lies beneath the surface. That’s why thermal springs, and the rituals that surrounded them, were so important in ancient times. The process wasn’t rushed. People came to the waters with intention, with reverence. They understood that healing was a journey, not something that could be achieved overnight.

The Sherpa: I think there’s something profound in that—the idea of slowing down, of making space for healing to happen in its own time. But let me ask you something a bit more provocative. Healing, in all its complexity, isn’t always successful. There are times when people don’t get better, when suffering persists. How do you reconcile that? As a god of healing, what do you say to those who come to you and leave without the relief they were seeking?

Grannus: That’s a difficult truth, but one that must be faced. Healing doesn’t always mean curing. Sometimes, people come to me seeking a cure for their illness, but the healing they need is of a different kind. It’s emotional, spiritual, or something they can’t yet understand. I can guide them toward healing, but I cannot force them to walk that path, and sometimes the journey takes them in unexpected directions. There are times when the body doesn’t heal, when the illness remains, but even then, there can be healing of the heart, of the spirit. And sometimes, accepting that healing doesn’t mean erasing suffering is itself a kind of healing.

The Sherpa: That’s a profound distinction—healing doesn’t always mean curing. It reminds me of how the Celtic and Roman cultures both had a sense of fate, of accepting the things we can’t change. But that acceptance isn’t the same as resignation, is it? It’s more like a deep wisdom, understanding the flow of life.

Grannus: Exactly. It’s not about giving up—it’s about understanding that life moves in cycles, that some things are beyond our control. Healing, real healing, comes from embracing those cycles, from finding peace within them. There’s strength in surrender, in letting go of the need to control every outcome. That’s what my waters taught those who came to them. They taught patience, trust, and acceptance of the deeper rhythms of life.

The Sherpa: I’m curious—do you feel that in today’s world, where so much is rushed and controlled, that people have lost that trust in life’s natural rhythms? Do you think modern society could benefit from reconnecting with the slower, more cyclical understanding of healing?

Grannus: Absolutely. The modern world often pushes people toward constant productivity, toward a sense that everything must be immediate and efficient. Healing doesn’t work that way. Life doesn’t work that way. There is wisdom in the natural cycles of the earth, in the changing seasons, in the rise and fall of the sun. My springs, my presence, were always about slowing down, about connecting to those cycles. I think if people today could reconnect with that understanding, with the idea that not everything can be fixed right away, they would find a deeper sense of peace, of healing.

The Sherpa: It sounds like a call to return to the fundamentals—to water, to warmth, to patience. Your springs, the sacred sites where people sought you out, they must have been places of profound transformation. I can’t help but wonder, Grannus, what you felt in those moments when people came to you, bathed in your waters, and found healing. Did you feel that transformation with them? Or was it something you observed from a distance, like a parent watching a child grow?

Grannus: I was with them, in the water, in the very flow of life that they entered when they submerged themselves. When people healed, when they released their burdens into my springs, I felt it deeply. It was a shared experience, a moment of connection between the divine and the mortal. Healing is a sacred act, not just for the person being healed but for me as well. It’s a reminder of the interconnectedness of all things, of the way the earth, the water, the warmth, and the human spirit all flow together.

The Sherpa: That interconnectedness, that sense of being part of something larger, seems to be at the heart of your message. It’s not just about individual healing—it’s about being part of a greater whole, about the cycles of life and nature. Do you think that’s something people today have lost sight of? That sense of being connected to something beyond themselves?

Grannus: Yes, I think many people have lost that connection. The world today often encourages separation—separation from nature, from each other, even from one’s own inner self. But healing, true healing, requires a return to wholeness, to the understanding that we are all connected, that our individual journeys are part of a much larger tapestry. My springs were a place where people could remember that, where they could feel the warmth of the earth and the water, and know that they were part of something ancient, something eternal.

The Sherpa: It’s a powerful reminder, Grannus, of the importance of reconnecting to those deeper truths, to nature, to each other. As we come to the end of our conversation, I can’t help but reflect on the wisdom you’ve shared today—about healing, about surrender, about trust. If there’s one thing you hope people take away from your story, from your presence in their lives, what would it be?

Grannus: I would hope they remember that healing is a journey, not a destination. That it’s not always about curing or fixing, but about becoming whole, about embracing both the light and the darkness within. I would hope they remember that they are never alone in their suffering or their healing, that the earth, the water, the warmth—they are always there, waiting to embrace them when they are ready to let go.

The Sherpa: Thank you, Grannus. Your words are deeply resonant, and I think they will linger with us long after this conversation. You’ve given us a lot to think about, and I hope your wisdom finds its way into the hearts of those who need it most.

Grannus: Thank you, Sherpa. It has been a pleasure to share this time with you, to speak of these ancient truths that continue to live on.