Well, I Grew A Lot Of Carrots: The Fever Dream Year

In Wales lockdown measures have recently been relaxed, so that we are now easing back into some kind of semi-normality. On Monday 12th April I returned to work for the first time since just before Christmas 2020 when it was announced that all non-essential retail in Wales would close. I vividly remember returning home from work on December 19th after a long hard day and hearing the news literally as I pulled into the driveway. At the time I imagined I'd be resuming work some time in mid-January, yet it has taken until now, mid-April for that to happen. 

Being back at work this week has been a strange mixture of the familiar and the strange. The environment and the work is well-known and yet there's an odd sense of unreality that I don't recall feeling on my return to work after the first lockdown last spring.

I suspect I'm not alone in feeling this sense of confusion and dislocation. The long months suspended from our normal routines have been followed by a supposed return to normality which is anything but normal. I may be back working one of the  several part time jobs I had before the first lockdown, but most of my other jobs have fallen casualty to the pandemic for one reason or another and ceased. I may be back in familiar surroundings fulfilling a familiar role, but I am doing it while wearing a mask and observing social distancing, and I still can't hug a workmate, invite friends into my home, or teach a workshop. Looking back, so much and so little has happened.   

Seeing (separately) two friends for the first time in months this week highlighted this strangeness for me. It was lovely to see them and reconnect after being separated from them for such a long time. And yet I found myself floundering when they both asked me the simple question, 'So how have you been?'

How have I been? What have I been doing during the long months of lockdown? What has life been like, what has changed, where will life go from here?

All the answers that I could give are too deep or too shallow. How can I convey the spikes of fear and the blur of boredom; the endless anxiety about my elderly parents and my friend with COPD; the unaccustomed luxury of time to sleep in late and garden and cook and write and immerse myself in a good book; the stupefying lack of focus; the slow accretion of outstanding tasks which keep me awake at night, while I instantly forget the goals reached and accomplishments achieved during the same time frame?

When one friend asked me 'What have you been up to?' I found myself giving the slightly surreal, completely inadequate and not even wholly accurate response, 'Well, I grew a lot of carrots,'. At the time it was all my mind could pluck from the nebulous swirl of 'my life during lockdown'.

Looking back over the last year, it all seems rather like a fever dream - simultaneously vivid and vague, surreal, epic, confusing and impossible to convey precisely. Which is all quite understandable. We have all - the entire world - undergone a dislocation from our normal lives, experienced a trauma. Everyone experiences upheavals in life, times of pain and fear and loss, but we don't usually all experience them simultaneously so that the whole world is jolted from its tracks. And this trauma has not been a single short-lived shock, but a long, drawn-out upheaval which has left people exhausted.

And yet... I wonder what will come from this in the long run? I am hopeful that we as a species will move forward from this having learned some useful lessons, and thinking hard about what it is we want to 'go back to'. 

Some years ago at a Witchcamp, I took part in an elaborate life/death/rebirth ritual in which people were guided through a series of gateways, each representing an aspect of their lives such as their name(s), possessions, achievements, friends/family/loved ones etc. At each gateway they were instructed to leave every one of these things behind. It was a gradual stripping away of every part of identity and self. At the final gateway they were greeted by a priestess aspecting the Goddess, who blew out the tealight they carried (symbolising their life force). They were then given as much time as they needed to bathe in Her Cauldron of Rebirth (a hot tub!) while meditating on what they had left behind, what they wanted to retrieve - and what they wanted to leave behind. It was a gruelling process for most people, but deeply informative and transformative. So much of what we carry with us through life we carry through habit, or because we've been told by others we must carry it. Stripping everything away and consciously choosing to recover only those things of value is immensely freeing. When each person was ready, they left the hot tub and were given a new tealight symbolising their rebirth. They retraced their steps through each gate, picking back up the things they wished to carry into their new lives - but crucially, leaving behind those which they had decided they no longer wished to carry. So, for example I have been known by many names in my life - Susan, Moonroot, Moonie, Susie, Wallis, daughter, sister, wife, witch, aromatherapist etc. But I have also been called ginger, fat, stupid, ugly, bitch etc. Some of these names have come from other people - and some I have called myself. When I strip away these names and identities and leave them at the gate, on my return I can choose which names I wish to carry - and those I am happy to leave in the dust.

This pandemic has stripped our normal lives away from us. When we return through each gate, I hope that we will think very carefully about what it is that we wish to pick back up. My 'normal' life before all this began was actually pretty dysfunctional in many ways. Post-divorce, job insecurity and fear of poverty had led to me working 6-7 day weeks. I was permanently exhausted, short-tempered and ill, but I couldn't seem to get off that hamster wheel. Every time I was offered more work I said yes, because I was always short of money and afraid that the work I did have would dry up, leaving me penniless. Being forced to slow down and stop made me realise how joyless life had become. During months of lockdown I have started to read books again, cook from scratch again, grow vegetables again, observe the Wheel of the Year again. I have finally learned how to properly use the camera I bought several years ago and have taken reams of photographs. I have had time for the long, deep conversations that feed my soul. I have written more in the last year than I have managed in the previous three or four years. I have had time to sit and drink in the beauty surrounding me. And most importantly I have had time to reassess the way I've been leading my life and come to some important decisions about what I want to change about that. 

Much of my 'normal' life was in direct contradiction to my values and beliefs. I was buying pre-packaged convenience foods because I was too damned tired to cook. I was driving miles and miles between my scattered jobs, eating junk food on the hoof. I was too tired to have much of a social life and short-tempered with my loved ones. My house was a mess. Every so often I would manage a holiday or have an enforced break caused by illness and I would resolve to do better - but immediately fall back into my old ways. My mantra seemed to always be, 'next month, when things are less busy...', but next month never was less busy, and so it went on.

All of that has been taken away from me. I have lost three of my part time jobs and of the remaining three, restrictions mean I am only able to work at one of them at the moment. When I am able to resume all three, that will be enough. I am determined to find a way to manage financially without damaging my physical and mental health further and working myself into an early grave. My petrol consumption has plummeted. I have been gradually sorting out the house and making my environment a pleasant one. I have stopped shopping at big supermarkets and now buy most of my groceries from a small local zero-waste shop. Guess what? Their prices may be higher than the supermarket, but because I am only buying what I need and not getting sucked in by special offers and convenience foods I have actually cut our food bills and food waste. I have been growing our own vegetables and cooking proper meals - I make my own hummus and veggie burgers and bread from scratch. What I have realised is that staying on the hamster wheel required me to spend more money than it brought in. My life is now more manageable, less expensive, less wasteful, greener and infinitely more satisfying.

The other great lesson I hope we can learn from the pandemic is that we are all in this together, and working collaboratively for the good of the whole is the best and fairest way to run the world. Look at the awe-inspiring collective effort that has brought us effective vaccines in the space of a year! We humans are at our most marvellous when we co-operate rather than compete.

I believe the sense of unreality I am feeling is the world re-making itself in a new and hopefully better way. We have all had much of our lives stripped away over the last year, and spent time immersed in the Cauldron of Rebirth swirling in a fever dream of possibility. Now as we prepare to leave the Cauldron and re-enter the world, let's consider very carefully the kind of 'normality' we wish to return to. What will you pick back up? What will you choose to leave behind? The great blessing of every period of difficulty in our lives is the lessons we learn from it, and the chance we are given to grow. Let's seize this unprecedented opportunity we've been given with enthusiasm and build a better 'normal'. The old world wasn't working anyway, why go back to it?

           

     

Suddenly September

And so here we are in September. 

There is a chill in the morning air. Days are noticeably shorter. Apples hang plumply from the tree and rosehips glow in the hedge. The sycamore leaves are beginning to brown. Yet the sun is still warm and the swallows still dance in the sky. Summer is drawing to a close, but gently.

How did we get here so quickly? Time has been a strange companion these last months. Though life in lockdown was slow and peaceful, still the months seem to have slid past quickly and already we are three quarters of the way through 2020. It's been such a strange year, the fact that we're entering its last stages will no doubt please many. Yet I suspect the strangeness will not evaporate on 31st December. Strange is the new normal as our expectations and priorities and beliefs about our lives are upended and re-examined and we learn to navigate the new reality in which we find ourselves. It's disturbing and often hard and painful. Isn't that always true of change? And yet... at times I find myself relishing the challenge. I think we could build something new and wonderful from the wreckage. Throw out what no longer serves, question the status quo, refuse to go back to the system that has created so much injustice and inequality. 

On this first day of a new month, one which sees the beginning of the new academic year, let's pause to think about the opportunities to learn that are there for us all. What has been stripped away? What essentials remain? What do we need to let go of? What do we need to bring in? What do we want to create? Where do we want to be this time next year?

Let's seize the initiative. Let's create the lives we truly want, not the lives they've tried to tell us we want. I don't want to be part of a system that keeps most of the world in poverty while a handful of billionaires call the shots. I don't want things, I want connection and meaning. I don't want to keep running on the hamster wheel, I want to spend time with people I love doing things that make the world a better place. 

When they urge you to 'get back to normal' so that they can get the system up and running again, refuse. Withdraw your support for a system that is only there to benefit the few. Dream a better future - then create it. Let's work together, for the good of all.

Every Day, There Is Something New...

 

Every day there is something new. This morning, the first cowslips. Yesterday I heard the chatter of swallows for the first time this year (yes, they're back!). And before that, lady's smock, blackthorn blossom, the smell of newly-mown grass, magnolia flowers, a slow worm basking in the sun.

New, and yet familiar. Because I have seen all these things before, they are familiar. But they are new again each year as the seasons turn and the Earth and her beings cycle through life. What a miraculous paradox we live in - and how strange and yet natural that we should take it for granted. It is, after all, the reality we live in.

Thinking on this, I imagine the span of my life like the tightly coiled loops of a telephone cord (yes, the old-fashioned ones when telephones still had cords!). The spiral grows in length, but it coils round and around, coming back to almost the same spot yet NOT the same spot. Somewhere the same, yet a bit further on. Somewhere different, yet a place that can be recognised because the spiral has travelled this route before.

Sometimes the path of our lives is like this. We all have patterns of behaviour that repeat, and sometimes these cause us problems. And it can be so hard to see that it is our repeating patterns causing the difficulties in life. If the same problem in different guises keeps cropping up, it is worth examining it to see how you yourself may be contributing to the dynamic. Recently, I have ended more than one 'friendship' after realising that my role as a 'people pleaser' was enabling certain people to take advantage of me and that I needed to be more firm about my boundaries. My desire to please was leading me to say yes, whether I wanted to or not. It can be hard to make such changes, but it can be done - and we are all works in progress!

And so we continue on, spiralling around and further along. The spiral sometimes makes it hard to see how far we have come, yet look back along its length. Who were you 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 20 years ago? The same, yet different. Always growing, always changing, always revisiting what needs to be revisited, always finding a new way to travel the path.

Every day, there is something new...


        

Holding On, Letting Go

Spring is so beautiful, I find myself wanting to hold on to every bit of it. The river meadow covered in celandine... The joyful return of the swallows... The frothing abundance of pink and white blossom... The bees bumbling round clustered cowslip bells... The faery scent of hawthorn on the evening breeze... The galaxy of starry windflowers twinkling in the dappled sunlight beneath trees... The intense vibrancy and tenderness of new leaves...

And yet it is the very ephemerality of spring that lies at the heart of its magic. It is the daily changes in the world around me that so enchant, the passing from winter to spring and on into summer, autumn and round again. Only in letting go do I receive...

Every spring I learn the same lessons anew. The power of new beginnings. The beauty of renewal. The joy and fragility and force of life. The importance of gratitude, and of letting go.


    

The 'C' Word, Part 1: Back Story and Birthday

Well that got your attention didn't it?

Actually the 'C' word we're looking at here is closure. Or rather Closure. This summer Closure has been writ large in my life, so much so that I wonder if there's some huge astrological maelstrom going on in my birthchart, or perhaps my guardian angels have been putting in overtime. Lots of it.

Most of the time life proceeds in a normal, haphazard fashion - a bit of this, a little of that, a few highs, a few lows. But once in a while, it is as if a hidden riptide suddenly grabs us and carries us in a certain direction. There is no choice but to go with the current, attempt to keep your head above water - if only to get a clear enough view to try and get your bearings - and wonder what the hell is going on? That has been my summer this year. So many turning points, realisations and loose ends getting tied up. One after another, bam, bam, bam, with barely enough time to breathe before the next wave breaks over my head. It hasn't been bad, in fact much of it has been pretty good. But such a strong sweeping along in the grip of - what? Fate? Karma? - can't help but stir up a whole lot of stuff from the depths of the Unconscious, so there have been moments when I've felt overwhelmed. But whew... what a ride.

So where to begin telling this tale? Perhaps some backstory is needed. If you've read this blog for any length of time you will know that I was blindsided by the end of my marriage five years ago (yes, five years! I can't believe it's been that long. If you want to catch up on the gory details, you could look back at posts labelled 'T' or 'divorce'). And the year before that, the cancellation of Avalon Witchcamp and the fallout amongst my spiritual community followed by the stress of organising a Summer Gathering as a replacement event was a source of great stress at the time and on-going repercussions subsequently (gory details for this labelled 'Avalon Spring/Witchcamp' and 'Summer Gathering'). And so in recent years this blog has been as much about putting my life back together and struggling my way through a period of readjustment and starting over as Paganism, Permaculture and Poultrykeeping!

Anyway, when I last posted I had just torn a ligament in my shoulder. It was a huge pain literally and metaphorically, as not only did I have to take time off work I could ill-afford, but also we were in the middle of decorating the spare bedroom and ripping out and re-fitting the bathroom. Being incapacitated was made even more annoying by the fact we had a deadline to meet - the bedroom and bathroom needed to be finished and the house and garden given a serious clean, tidy and facelift by mid-July as I was about to have my 50th birthday and had planned a big party. Injuring my shoulder couldn't have come at a worse time!

In the end, the spare bedroom was finished and the bathroom all but completed in time for the party. We managed to get the rest of the house looking as good as possible, but something had to give and the garden had to be left somewhat wild and unkempt. Personally I quite like an overgrown garden, but I had rather hoped to give it a bit of a spruce up before the big day! Even without getting the garden sorted, we'd still worked flat out for six weeks excepting the week my shoulder was completely unusable. So by the end of the week leading up to the party I was pretty exhausted.

My birthday fell on a Saturday, and Mum and Dad had invited IB and I, plus IB's Mum, Sheila (visiting for the party) over for dinner the night before. I knew my brother, sister and brother-in-law would all be there too and was looking forward to seeing my family and not having to cook! Unfortunately, Sheila's bus was quite badly delayed and we were an hour and a half late in the end.

When we finally got there, we were greeted with hugs and kisses from my family, drinks were pressed into our hands and we were ushered into the garden where I was delighted and surprised to see my cousin George, his wife Alex, my aunt Anne... and then suddenly a laughing, exuberant crowd of familiar faces erupted from around the side of the house. A surprise birthday party for me - and I was late!

Some of my birthday cards

It was a wonderful evening! I was amazed that everyone had gone to so much trouble to surprise me and it was so good to spend time with friends and family I rarely get to see. I was spoiled rotten with hugs, gifts, champagne and an amazing spread of food including a beautiful cake made and decorated by an old schoolfriend.

Birthday cake number 1 by Viv

The official party the next day was an all-day casual 'open house' from midday onwards so that people could drop in when it suited them and stay as long as they liked. It was a beautiful sunny day, absolutely scorching in fact - so most of the guests opted to sit out in the garden, wilderness though it was. Throughout the day friends, neighbours and family arrived with delicious contributions towards the pot-luck style buffet, and I was also given many wonderful gifts, despite having told everyone not to bother with birthday presents!

Birthday cakes number 2 (by Mum) and 3 (by Pinky)

 

Beautiful bouquet of flowers from Fiona and Philip

Gifts of fairy bells from Pinky and a pyrographed plaque of a Jay from my talented friend Lizzi

The party was quite hectic, with people coming and going throughout the day, and as always with these things there wasn't enough time to spend much of it with anyone! But by the time the heat of the day cooled into evening, we sat in a companionable group outside, drinking, re-telling old tales and sharing new ones, teasing, laughing... a memorable end to my birthday festivities.

So that was the beginning of my 'Summer of Closure' - the end of my forties. More soon...

Millions Marching, One Billion Rising!

 

Video: One Billion Rising! Flashmob in Carmarthen 14/02/2013

"Another common, unspoken assumption is that spirituality is about calm and peace, and conflict is unspiritual. Which of course makes it hard to integrate the spiritual with the political, which is all about conflict.
In New Age circles, a common slogan is that "What you resist, persists." Truly spiritual people are never supposed to be confrontational or adversarial — that would be perpetuating an unevolved, "us-them" dualism.
I don't know from what spiritual tradition the "what you resist, persists" slogan originated, but I often want to ask those who blithely repeat it, "What's your evidence?" When it is so patently obvious that what you don't resist persists like hell and spreads all over the place. In fact, good, strong, solid resistance may be the only thing that stands between us and hell. Hitler didn't persist because of the Resistance — he succeeded in taking over Germany and murdering millions because not enough people resisted."
- Starhawk

Ten years ago today, along with millions of other people I was marching against the Iraq war. According to Wikipedia, "Sources vary in their estimations of the number of participants involved. According to BBC News, between six and ten million people took part in protests in up to sixty countries over the weekend of the 15th and 16th; other estimates range from eight million to thirty million." I marched in London alongside friends from the British Reclaiming community. Along the way we sang, and danced, and chalked hearts on the pavements. Although the day was grey and cold and the wind blowing off the river Thames was icy, the energy of the march was amazing. It is incredible to be among so many other human beings, all with one shared intention, one passionately held belief.

Many people who have never attended a demonstration seem horrified by the very idea. I am certain this is due to the impression given by the media that such events are inevitably filled with extremists, thugs and stone-throwing anarchists; hotbeds of violence and wanton destruction. In my experience, nothing could be further from the truth. The demonstrations I have been on, from my first way back in the '90s (against the Criminal Justice Bill 1994, which amongst other things criminalised what were previously civil offences in an attempt to stifle road protesters and hunt saboteurs), have been without exception good-humoured, fun and friendly. I'm not saying there was no trouble or arrests at any of them, but I personally have never seen any negative behaviour at all. At any large gathering of people it is inevitable that a small minority will act up, or even go along with the express intention of causing trouble. Yet it is this small minority that gets all the press coverage and attention and gives a totally misleading impression of the event and most people's experience of it.

Yesterday, across the world, millions of women (and men) joined the 'One Billion Rising' initiative in joyful flashmobs, dancing to protest violence against women, and stating that we will not stand for this! (the word "billion" refers to the statistic that 1 in 3 women will be raped or beaten in their lifetime - about one billion). From Africa to Asia to the Americas to Europe to Australasia, women gathered and danced, in some places risking their very lives to do so. Even in my local town of Carmarthen, women - including some of my friends - gathered and danced. Unfortunately I couldn't join them, which I'm really sad about! It looks like it was an amazing event, and it makes me feel so proud and so moved.

We have more power than we allow ourselves to believe. We are creating the future with every choice we make, every moment of every day. And when we join with others, when we tap into what Starhawk calls 'Power-With'* (as opposed to the more usual model of 'Power-Over') we tap into something truly world-changing.

Political demonstrations rarely change the world overnight. They don't always achieve their aim - an estimated 10 million marched against the Iraq war and still Bush and Blair went to war. And yet, these events have power. In the immediacy of the march, or the occupation, or the dance against violence, we feel our connection to each other. We know that we are not alone in feeling passionate about this issue. That gives us strength and courage. We meet like-minded souls, we make connections and forge bonds. We let those in power know that this is an issue that really matters, that come the next election, their jobs are on the line. Someone told me that for every letter protesting an issue, the powers that be know that 10 more people feel the same way, but haven't bothered to put pen to paper. How many more then, for every person who makes the effort to travel to a demo or a sit-in? In some instances, a demonstration can become a revolution. This is why protest is stifled, this is why they publish the photos of bricks being thrown at windows. They don't want you there. If demonstrating didn't make a difference, why would they care if you marched or danced or chained yourself to a railing? Standing up and being counted, changing minds does change the world. Gandhi knew it. Martin Luther King knew it. Rachel Corrie knew it, Julia 'Butterfly' Hill knew it, the Pankhursts knew it. Code Pink know it, the Occupy! movement know it, UK Uncut know it, Reclaim the Streets know it, One Billion Rising! know it.

You can make a difference. We all can. Claim your power-with!

P.S. See also this.

* Starhawk's Definitions of 'Power-Over' and 'Power-With'
Power-Over sees the world as an object, made up of many separate, isolated parts that have no intrinsic life, awareness or value. Human beings have no inherent worth; value must be earned or granted. Power-Over motivates by fear, violence or threat of violence.
Power-With sees the world as a pattern of relationships, but its interest is in how that pattern can be shaped, moulded, shifted. It values beings, forces, and people according to how they affect others and according to a history based on experience. 

Self Care, Wisdom and Breaking Old Spells...

Pic: Shrine to Brigid, Goddess of Healing at  the White Spring, Glastonbury

Good health is something I normally take for granted. A Naturopath told me some years ago I have a very strong constitution, and that seems to be the case. I have no allergies or food sensitivities to worry about. I can always sleep, and rarely lose my appetite. Like anyone, I get the odd cough or cold, but usually bounce back after a few days and that's that.

However.

The Cold that IB and I caught in Madrid turned out to be a real stinker, and even now I still have an irritating cough that just won't seem to shift. Then at the beginning of December I succumbed to the Norovirus tummy bug and even after the stomach pains and vomiting had subsided, I found it hard to get my appetite back. Feeling totally washed out, I struggled to meet my work commitments during the week. And then the icing on the cake: last Friday I went down with tonsillitis.

I had tonsillitis several times as a child, but don't remember it being much different then to an ordinary head cold. I had it again as an adult in 2001, though, and couldn't believe how ill I felt that time! My head was pounding, my throat was incredibly painful and swollen, I couldn't eat, and I felt so light-headed and weak. I remember thinking, 'I don't think you can die from tonsillitis, but I feel so lousy at the moment that if I do I really don't care!'. That time T took me to the Dr who prescribed antibiotics and it cleared up in no time.

This time my experience was definitely a re-run of the 2001 episode, but more antibiotics - and nearly a week off work - have done the trick again. Even so, I am aware of underlying weariness and the sense of needing a good long rest.

In my previous, pre-divorce situation, life was much easier. I had work and commitments here at Halfway Up A Hill, but I could be flexible about what I did and when, and as T was the breadwinner, me taking it easy for a few days when I needed to didn't have that much of an impact. Now things are different: I need to work outside the home to support myself and it is often a struggle to do that and juggle caring for the animals, the house, the garden - and myself. Also, if I don't work, I don't get paid, so time off for leisure, appointments (e.g.dentist) or illness has to be carefully considered and judiciously weighed out.

Because I generally have such good health, I take it for granted. I have a tendency to push myself to keep going where someone more sensitive to their body's limits would ease off. And I find it hard both to say 'no' when asked to do things and also to ask for help myself when I need it. Not really a good combination!

It is clear that I need to work on self-care. This run of illness has made me aware of many things. That I am not indestructible. That I have allowed myself to get run-down. That ignoring it and trying to keep going only makes me vulnerable to further illness. It is a hard lesson. I can be stubborn, and this kind of life experience makes me want to dig my heels in and ignore it because, dammit, I won't be beaten! But at heart I know that learning from experience - even bitter experience - is not being beaten, it is the gaining of wisdom.

Nevertheless I know myself well enough to know that it will be all too easy to fall back into old patterns of behaviour. After all, as humans, that's what we do, right?

Recently I have realised that 'being under a spell' in fairy stories could be seen as a metaphor for this falling back into old patterns. For example, a princess is held captive by a wicked magician/troll/dragon. Many suitors come to her aid and try to free her but they fail due to the enchantments/spell laid by the villain. They don't take the good (if weird) advice they were given for the journey (Don't look the giant in the eye! Don't eat the fairy food! Be polite to the old hag!), or they do exactly what all the other failed attempts did and rush straight at the bad guy/dragon, waving a sword - and are promptly turned to stone, or fall into an enchanted sleep, or are just plain killed. In other words, by falling back into old, tried-and-failed patterns yet still somehow expecting them to work, their attempts are defeated. But the resolution of the problem, the denouement of the story comes when the hero either has the good sense to follow the advice - however odd it seemed - or to try something different (Talk to the dragon! Outsmart the troll! Ask the golden bird in the cage what to do!), thereby breaking the spell - the old pattern - and achieving his goal and the freedom of the princess.

This is what I need to do - break the spell by taking the good advice I am given by friends and family (Eat well! Go to bed early! Learn to say no sometimes! Ask for help!), even if it seems easier to ignore it. And I will try doing some things differently in order to get a different result (Stop bottling up stress - instead thump a pillow, or do regular meditation, or restructure my working week...). I will take echinacea and multivitamins to build myself up. I will get the Dr to give me a health check. I will take responsibility for my well-being. I will learn to self-care.

I will break the spell. I will be well. By my will, with harm to none and for the good of all, so mote it be. Blessed be.

Lessons From A Cherry Tree

From the bedroom window I can see petals falling. With every shifting breeze, a gentle shower of shell-pink confetti rains down. How gracefully the flowering cherry tree relinquishes her spring finery, a little at a time, like the slow ebbing of a tide.

No regret, no clinging on to past glory. No resentment, no cutting-off-your-nose-to-spite-your-face wholesale dumping. Just a gentle shedding, releasing what no longer serves easily, willingly, naturally, open-heartedly.

I know that only change is constant, yet in my own life how often do I cling to what is outmoded because it's familiar? How often do I hang on to possessions I no longer need 'because it may come in useful one day', or because Great Aunt Mabel gave it to me and I feel guilty for not actually wanting it?

Someone once told me that a leaf only falls in the autumn when the bud of next year's leaf has formed below, ready to unfurl in the spring when conditions are right.

Am I preventing new growth in my life by clinging onto the past?

May I be like the cherry tree. Able to sense the shifts and changes in my life and move on without regret.

Brigid Poetry Festival 2011

Here is my offering for this year's Poetry Festival in honour of Brigid.

To all that is brief and fragile

superficial, unstable,

To all that

lacks foundation

argument or principles;

To all that is light,

fleeting, changing, finite

To smoke spirals,

wand roses,

To sea foam

and mists of oblivion...

To all that is light in weight

for itinerants

on this transient earth

Somber, raving,

with transitory words

and vaporous bubbly wines

I toast

in breakable glasses.

~Maria Eugenia Baz Ferreira



On Mellow Fruitfulness and New Beginnings...

The early morning sunlight is golden on the treetops, and mist still lingers in the valley folds. The robin's song has a tinge of autumn melancholy, and the sunlit dew highlights a hundred spider webs. September is here, and with her the onset of autumn. Though the swallows and martens of summer haven't yet departed, autumn now begins to take over.

I was musing this morning how strange it is that September and autumn can feel like a beginning. Mostly autumn is portrayed as the end, the culmination of the year, a time of harvest. And yet isn't it - aren't all turning points - also beginnings? Years ago, I wrote a poem, part of which declared:

"Through life and death and rebirth,

The thread continues spinning;

And though all beginnings have to end,

All ends are but beginnings"

In September the children go back to school, the new academic year begins. People return from summer holidays and in many cases begin planning their next holiday straight away! The shops begin their run-up to Christmas (yes I know!). Bulbs are planted in anticipation of the next spring, jumpers and boots re-emerge from their summer hiatus, the swallows begin their long journey back to warmer climes.

September marks the end of summer, but also the beginning of a new season - autumn. There are so many turning points in our lives, but every ending is simultaneously a new beginning, a new opportunity. This morning I'm remembering to be thankful for what has passed, whilst welcoming in the new...

Raining Cats and Dogs - And Chickens...

The stormy winds blew all night, throwing down sheets of rain. By morning they had subsided into intermittent gusts and showers, but when the chickens came out of their house a strange sight met their eyes. In the adjoining run were some new chickens - three more Light Sussex and a pair of Black Rocks, the sun highlighting the iridescent green sheen on their feathers.

"I don't like it, I don't like it at all!" complained Bella the Cream Legbar, who was by nature highly strung.

"I've heard the humans speak of it raining cats and dogs, but never chickens..." muttered Mac, an ex-battery hen and the thinker of the group.

Could it have rained chickens? It was a very rainy night.

The little flock looked expectantly at Blanche, the head chicken (and a Light Sussex to boot). She would know what had happened.

Blanche looked at their waiting faces, and puffed out her chest importantly. "If it can rain cats and dogs," she opined solemnly, "Then as chickens are the superior species it stands to reason that an unusually heavy downpour would produce chickens."

The others nodded in agreement. The logic was watertight, even Mac couldn't deny it. It would go down in poultry history. The night it rained chickens.

The Mystery and Magic of Balance

Today is the Autumn Equinox, also known to the Pagan community as Mabon or Madron. It is one of only two days in the solar calendar when night and day are of equal length. As such it is a potent symbol of balance, and many Pagan celebrations of the equinoxes focus on this aspect.

The thought occurring to me today is how rare that perfect balance is in nature and in our lives. After all, there are 365 days in a year (or 366 in a leap year) and yet on only two of those days are night and day perfectly balanced. How often do we truly feel that we have the work/leisure balance right in our life? How often do we experience the right balance of sun, wind and rain for our gardens to flourish? How often is there a glut of this, or a scarcity of that instead of just the perfect amount?

It would seem that perfect balance is something to strive for in our lives. After all, life in perfect balance is a life of ease, right? Well, yes... kinda. But at the same time, to truly flourish, life needs change. True balance equals stasis, an absence of change or growth or decay or innovation or evolution. And admittedly, all that stuff can be scary. Change is scary. Don't we all often find it easier to stay in a difficult or uncomfortable situation than to break away and try something different?

Last night I watched a re-run of the film 'Pleasantville'. In the film, two modern day teenagers are somehow transported into the seemingly idyllic world of Pleasantville, a 1950's TV show about a wholesome and 'perfect' small town. In Pleasantville everything is, well, pleasant. The townspeople are cheerful and friendly. Everyone lives pleasant middle class lives in comfortable homes. The youngsters are sweet and innocent, the school sports team always wins. Everyone is contented with their lot. And yet... to the outsiders, the drawbacks to life in Pleasantville soon become glaringly obvious.

To maintain this harmonious lifestyle, Pleasantville is in a kind of stifling stasis. The people are friendly, courteous and 'nice', but have no meaningful emotional life or true connection to each other. Each person fulfills his or her role within the town, but they are incapable of breaking free from those roles or using their initiative. The road in and out of town is actually a huge loop, leading to nowhere but Pleasantville. The books have titles printed on the spines, but the pages are blank - no room in a world like Pleasantville for ideas from 'outside'. Of course, the arrival of the newcomers soon sends ripples of change through the community, inevitably leading to strife. And yet the benefits of change are seen to be worth all the upheavals they cause. Gradually, Pleasantville's monochrome world changes to colour; the pages of the books become filled with words, stories, ideas; the townspeople experience hitherto undreamed of emotions - love, happiness, anger - and begin to live authentic lives, with all their inherent joy and pain.

This is the mystery and magic of balance. That in order to achieve it, we need to be constantly changing. That once we find it, something somewhere will shift and change and oops - yet again we will be juggling and adapting and altering, but most importantly learning and growing.

On this day of balance, I take time to notice and be grateful for the areas of balance in my life. But at the same time I remind myself that change is constant, inevitable - and what life is all about.

Change

I've been musing on the subject of change this morning, since reading Deborah Oak's post.

There is change in the air, I can feel it. Of course, one doesn't have to be particularly tuned in to recognise that big change is afoot, what with the world's economic upheaveals and tomorrow's inauguration of the next President of the USA. And in my own little microcosm change is obvious too: divorce, new car, new kitchen, new life...

But this morning as I went out to feed the animals the air was positively sparkling with anticipation. Perhaps it is just spring around the corner, but I don't think so. The air felt charged with a positive expectancy. And it struck me as odd. So often change is something we have to be dragged into, kicking and screaming (usually metaphorically, but not always!). Change - the unknown - is often far scarier than staying put, no matter how uncomfortable 'put' may be. Yet I feel an eagerness for change, in myself, in the people around me, in the air.

Years ago, during a trance journey to 'examine and overcome our fears' I had the startling revelation that actually, I wasn't sure I wanted to overcome my fears. After all, my fears gave me an excuse to maintain the status quo, an excuse not to act and therefore not have to take responsibilty for myself, my actions and my circumstances. Fear is not a pleasant emotion to experience, yet I realised I was more comfortable with my known fears than with the unknown.

On the other hand there have been times I have felt an impatience, a keenness to just jump into the unknown; to embrace change just for its own sake. Looking back I have to be honest and say the results were mixed: some of what transpired from those blind leaps of faith was wonderful, some was unbelievably painful, in ways I couldn't have imagined. Yet I also have to be honest and say that those were the times when I learned the most, both about myself and about the world. Those changes in my life changed me, deeply, irrevocably.

The weather is mirroring my train of thought: Blue skies and sunshine with puffy white clouds suddenly give way to vicious squally showers that lash rain against the windows. Then just as suddenly the leaden grey clears from the sky and the sun shines tranquilly again. Change is constant, whether we want it or not. Whether we even notice it or not.

I am eager for a new start - in my personal life, in the world. Yet I know that change will not necessarily be positive, things will not always turn out as I imagine, plans will have to be adapted as the journey unfolds. But it is time. Like the Fool in the Tarot, I am jumping, and hoping for the best - as we all must.