Precious

'The Wheel of Fortune' Tarot card from (L-R) 

The Gaian Tarot by Joanna Powell Colbert,

The Witches' Wisdom Tarot by Phyllis Curott and Danielle Barlow,

The Mood Tarot by Natalie Meraki

 

Yesterday, 

I watched the livestream of my beloved friend's funeral

While a dear one held me as I cried

Then fed me,

And we talked and mourned and laughed together.

Sometimes,

I wonder about this Wheel of Fortune we're all on.

Where is the up?

And when is the down?

Or is it all 

Just up and down,

All at once

And all the time?

Perhaps,

There is no Wheel of Fortune,

No up then down.

There is just life:

Grief and love and laughter and tears

All at once

And all of the time.

Which is why - while it lasts -

It is all so damned precious.

Legacies

 

"I am a divine mosaic of everyone who has ever touched my heart." - Tumblr user drowhsy

When I was growing up, my Nanna and Granddad lived in the house next door to us. Nanna was a great cook, and every week she produced a selection of cakes for both households - including her famous fruitcake. To Nanna's eternal chagrin, it always sunk in the middle. She tried tweaking the recipe - adjusting the proportions of ingredients, experimenting with oven temperatures and trying 'hacks' such as tossing the dried fruit in flour before stirring it into the cake mix. Nothing worked - the fruitcakes continued to sink in the middle no matter what she did. But perversely, it was precisely this characteristic that made her fruitcake so beloved by everyone who tried it - the sunken middle made the cake scrumptiously moist and more-ish.  Isn't it strange that it's often the perceived imperfections which make a person or a thing so unique and beloved?      

Since I've been doing a lot more baking recently, I decided I'd like to make one of Nanna's fruitcakes myself and asked Mum for the recipe. She has lent me two books full of handwritten recipes, one which she began keeping when she married my Dad in 1960, and one that belonged to my Grandmother. I am so enjoying leafing through the pages re-discovering favourite recipes from my childhood. I particularly love the pages with lots of splashes and smudges - clearly the most popular, frequently made dishes. I pass my fingers over the familiar handwriting, imagining the family gatherings, dinner parties, birthdays and anniversaries - and the accumulated hours of peeling, chopping, stirring, mixing and baking that went into creating them. I think of the love for us all that was that was poured into each dish. What powerful magic!

Family recipes are just one of the many small but precious legacies that we receive from our loved ones - and that we ourselves can think about passing on to those who will follow on after us. Food, songs, stories, arts, crafts, lore, skills, culture, knowledge. What precious legacies have you inherited?  And what treasures do you have to pass on?

Winter Blessings and Beauties, Day 86: Saint Dwynwen's Day

January 25th is St Dwynwen's Day (Diwrnod Santes Dwynwen) in Wales, 'the Welsh Valentine's Day'. 

St Dwynwen (pronounced doin-WEN) lived in the 5th century and was the daughter of a King and was reknowned for her piety and purity. She fell in love with a young man named Maelon, but her father refused to let them marry. In despair, Dwynwen prayed to be rid of her feelings for Maelon. God sent an angel to her in a dream, who brought her a potion to help her forget Maelon but which turns him into ice. God also grants her three wishes, and she uses these to request that Maelon be released from the ice, that God will act favourably towards all true lovers and finally that she herself will remain unmarried. As thanks for God's help, she became a nun, settling on the Isle of Anglesey, where she founded a church at Llanddwyn. 

A well near the church supposedly contained magical fish (some sources say eels). The movements of these fish could supposedly be read to to predict the future for young lovers.

St Dwynwen became the patron saint of young lovers (and also sick animals), and is celebrated in Wales much as St Valentine's Day is celebrated in other parts of the world, with cards and gifts of flowers and chocolates. In fact many people in Wales celebrate both dates, so we get two special dates devoted to lovers!

Winter Blessings and Beauties: Day 86

St Dwynwen's Day

On St Dwynwen's Day let's be thankful for love. Love for your partner, spouse or significant other, but also love of all kinds, not just romantic love. Love for your friends. Love for your family. Love for your co-workers. Love for your pets. Love for places. Love for the planet. Love for your heroes and heras. Love for your passions in life.

Who or what do you love? Today, give thanks for all those people, things and places you love. The more you love, the more love you have to give. 

The 'C' Word, Part 2: Three Weddings, and a Burial

Wedding Number One:
In the summer of 1985 I attended a wedding as the 'plus one' of a platonic male friend. At the reception afterwards, I was pleased to be asked to dance by the Best Man, whose blue eyes had caught my attention. We danced and talked and danced again, and I was happy when he asked for my phone number. To my delight, he rang a few days later and we went on our first date.

Wedding Number Two:
In 1991, reader - I married him!

Yes, I met T at the wedding of our friends Kevin and Ann, and six years later, Kevin was T's Best Man at our own wedding, in the little village church in which my parents had married. By then, Kevin and Ann had a three year old daughter and another on the way. Our friendship with Kevin and Ann was so close that they asked us to be guardians for Rachel, Charlotte and (in time) their younger brother, Michael, in the event that anything untoward should happen to the two of them. Until T and I moved to Wales in 2000 we spent virtually all our spare time together, like a big extended family (Kevin and Ann were originally moving here too, but ultimately decided to stay on Essex).

T and I were married for 17 years, and I thought we were pretty happy until he dropped a bombshell and left in 2008. Since that day, he and I have been in (mostly cordial) irregular contact, yet I had not met - nor wanted to meet, to be honest - his new wife, Sawittree.

So when I received an invitation to Rachel's wedding it brought up mixed feelings. Firstly of course, excitement and happiness at the wonderful news, and pleasure at the thought of sharing my beautiful Goddessdaughter's special day. But also... Sawittree would be there. Younger than me, slimmer than me. On T's arm. That brought up less pleasant emotions. Anxiety, insecurity, apprehension, and a lot of the grief and anger I thought I had processed and left behind by now.

Hmmm.

Luckily I had a few months to prepare myself - firstly by making careful plans to ensure I would be looking my best and hence feeling as confident as possible, and secondly by continuing to work through my feelings about T and Sawittree.

I'm not sure why or how it happened, but at some point before the wedding, I realised that actually, I don't care what T or Sawittree think about me or how they see me. I am now happy in my own skin, at peace with who I am, loved by and in love with IB. Perhaps enough time has elapsed, perhaps I have moved on, perhaps I am a different person. But something has shifted, healed and it is time to move on. And how symbolic that this closure manifested via the wedding of the eldest child of the couple whose own wedding was the starting point of my life with T? And what better symbol of 'new beginnings' than a wedding? The significance seemed staggering when I made the connections.  

Wedding Number Three:
Rachel's wedding was to be held in Maldon, Essex, so IB and I travelled up from Wales the night before and stayed with my sister and her husband in Kent. The weather was still searingly hot, and although we left in plenty of time in the morning, traffic snarls at the Dartford Crossing meant that we weren't as early as hoped by the time we'd arrived and parked the car. Walking through to the High Street, we arrived at the church with about 15 minutes to spare. But to my horror, it immediately became clear I had brought us to the wrong place - the church I had assumed the wedding was in is now a Heritage Centre and was buzzing with stalls selling arts, crafts and jam! Rifling through my bag in a panic I realised I had not brought the invitation. I asked one of the stallholders for help and she explained that there were two churches that the wedding could be in, either St Mary's or All Saint's - but they were at opposite ends of the High Street! This was now beginning to resemble a scene from 'Four Weddings and a Funeral', and my chances of arriving looking cool, calm and serene as I had hoped were fast melting away. I had the name 'St Mary's' in my mind for some reason so off we headed as fast as we could through the crowds of Saturday morning shoppers, me tottering in unaccustomed high heels. We finally arrived at the church to find no one outside and the door shut. Tiptoeing up, I opened the creaky old oak door as quietly as I could, expecting all eyes to turn on the latecomers... only to find the church completely empty. The wedding was, of course, at All Saints, at the other end of the High Street. 

At this point something in me stopped worrying and just decided to go with the flow. It was blazingly hot and humid, my feet were killing me and we had clearly missed any chance of arriving in time for the wedding. We sat in the church porch, while I changed into the flat sandals I had mercifully thought to stow in my bag and discussed our options. IB said to me, 'You are always running round after everyone, trying to keep everyone happy. Just let go of that, and accept things the way they are.' Which was true, helpful and a very liberating perspective all at once. We decided to walk - slowly - up to All Saint's Church, wait outside during the service and get some photos of the bride and groom when everyone emerged. I realised that though I may have missed the wedding service itself, all I really cared about was seeing my beautiful Goddessdaughter happy, enjoying her special day. But then as luck would have it, just as I'd changed back into my posh heels we spied some other latecomers at All Saint's Church and crept in behind them. Mercifully it was during a hymn and we slid quietly and gratefully into a vacant pew.

It was a truly lovely wedding with Rachel absolutely radiant in a gorgeous dress she had designed herself, and her new husband beaming and handsome. As we filed out at the end of the service, I spotted T and Sawittree shading themselves under a tree. IB and I walked over to say hello, and I was quite taken aback to be greeted by T as 'Darling', which I certainly wasn't expecting. That said, it made me think I couldn't be looking too bad for an old girl!

I took plenty of photos and then we made our way back to the car. We weren't expected at the wedding breakfast as the venue was small and the family party large, but we would be returning later for the evening reception. In the meantime IB and I went for lunch at what was one of my favourite pubs when I lived in the area, The Anchor at Runsell Green, Danbury. It was a beautiful summer's day and we sat outside the lovely old pub surrounded by flowers, enjoying a cooling breeze while we ate. Afterwards we took a meandering drive through my old memories, and I showed IB the church where Kevin & Ann married, the first house T & I lived in together, my paternal grandparents' house and the village my father had grown up in, the village where I went to school and finally the village where I grew up, Mountnessing. We also made an unscheduled stop at T's parents' house. I had always got on well with them, especially T's stepmother and although we'd spoken on the phone since T and I split, I hadn't seen them. By luck, they were in and we had a lovely though brief catch-up, and I was able to introduce IB to them.

At Mountnessing we had arranged to meet up with my Mum and Dad - who were in Essex visiting friends - at the home of an ex-neighbour. It was a little surreal as this meant we were in the house opposite my maternal grandparents' old house and diagonally opposite the house I'd grown up in (we had lived next door to my grandparents). Things became even more surreal when the people now living in what had once been my grandparents' house, invited us in to have a look round and see how the house looks these days. This was turning out to be more of a trip down memory lane than I had expected!

The house was at once familiar and not: some rooms had only changed a little, yet others - including a new extension - were completely different. It was not unpleasant though, as the family now living there are lovely and the house retains its warm atmosphere. Out in the garden there were also signs of time having moved on - plants and trees had grown or disappeared, new fences had been erected, and the patio and fishpond my grandfather had lovingly constructed is now showing its age and is in need of an overhaul! We also wandered down into the orchard next to the house - well, it used to be an apple orchard but now the apple trees and blackcurrant bushes of my childhood are all gone. But still there is the silver birch tree T and I planted when we buried the ashes of our son, Peter.

The tree now towers over me. Time has passed, and the sharpness of grief has dulled, yet it is still there. Suddenly all these ghosts of the past are too much, I am overwhelmed by it all and tears well irresistibly up. Luckily IB and my Mum are there to comfort me. I am held in loving arms and given time to cry, and breathe, and compose myself. More closure. We walk slowly back to the present together. Time to get ready for the wedding reception.

*****

The evening reception was as lovely as the wedding itself. The venue was superb. A live band played jazz and swing and people danced, young and old together. There was cake, and champagne, and pretty vintage china. The heat of the day abated as the evening drew on. I saw people I haven't seen in years and enjoyed catching up with them and seeing the amazing young adults their children have grown into. My parents and brother were there too. It was a very special occasion and I was so glad to have been a part of it. I was glad to have finally met Sawittree and put that particular anxiety aside. I was glad to reconnect with old friends. I was glad I saw Peter's tree, and both the continuity and changes in places I used to know so well. It felt like everything that was important to me from my years living in Essex had all come together, been revisited, acknowledged, and put properly away. Closure, writ large. Again.

And that was when the fiercely hot spell of weather finally broke. Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning flashed. But it all seemed part of the celebrations, Mother Nature's firework display. Deliciously cool rain fell onto warm pavement as we said farewell to the wedding party and made our way back to the car between showers.

I was exhausted. But so glad I'd come.

After The Storms...

The world seems washed clean by the torrential rain of recent days. The sky is finally clear blue, and a brisk wind chases away the last vestiges of storm clouds. In the late summer sunshine, the colours of the countryside seem to sparkle.

As the chickens scratch contentedly on the lawn and clean washing on the line dances in the stiff breeze, the world seem bright and fresh and new. At the end of summer, when it might be expected to seem that things are on a downward slide to the introspection of winter, there is a sense of optimism and newness and possibility. It seems to me it ought to feel jarring, but all I feel is anticipation and happiness.

And it's not just the weather. In the last few days I have heard news of the safe delivery of a friend's first baby; not one but two engagements have been announced; happy new relationships are springing up seemingly out of nowhere. And I have received an invitation to the wedding of my beloved Goddessdaughter next summer.

Happiness and fresh starts seem to be springing up everywhere like wildflowers. Hurrah! Long may it continue!

Falling In Love Again

A favourite cushion with an old vintage mirror that belonged to my Nanna

How quickly time passes. Only three years ago, I was still married - and oblivious to any hint of trouble. Now I have been divorced for over a year and a half, and my life is so different.

I am still at Halfway Up A Hill though, which when T first left, I never expected. I thought we would have to sell up and split the proceeds. Then, when we agreed that I could keep the house as part of the divorce settlement, I fully expected to sell up and move on anyway. Too many memories here.

Funny how things turn out, isn't it? With the collapse of the housing market, I resigned myself to staying put and just redecorating and smartening the place up for a couple of years until the economy picked up and I could sell. But over the past couple of years, I have started to see this familiar house with new eyes. By slowly, but surely putting my own mark on things, I have begun to fall in love with the place again. The painful memories are gradually being erased with each fresh coat of paint.

A handpainted dresser top that was picked up for a few pounds at a car boot sale. Along with some of my china and knick-knacks! Most of the china was passed down by my grandparents.

T's taste was fairly conventional and minimalist. Mine is more hippy-witchy-shabbychic-vintage-bohemian; definitely not minimalist. Now I am free to indulge those preferences without restraint! The interior - and exterior - of the house is beginning to reflect my tastes and personality as it never did before.

The lawn - once so carefully tended by T each weekend - has been declared a wildflower meadow. I prefer the look of all those flowers, and life is too short to spend it mowing! The overgrown flowerbed by the kitchen door has been tidied and planted up with roses, hardy geraniums and fuschia, and is now thronging with happy, busy bees. Pots of flourishing geraniums and herbs surround the back door with colour and fragrance. Suncatchers and windchimes dangle from every window, paintings and vases and lanterns and plants, new cushions and throws decorate the rooms. I have fun creating seasonal altars around the house and garden.

I LOVE my pantry door, which was made to measure by my very talented friend, Harry.

IB loves this house, and I am starting to love it once again. This weekend we have put up some wall cupboards that I have painted with a distressed finish in my favourite colours. In the dining room hearth, a 'new' (secondhand!) woodburning stove is waiting to be installed in readiness for next winter. I am planning to add a porch to the back door, and a forest garden down the hill...

The new woodburning stove, waiting to be 'plumbed in'.

I thought there were too many memories here for me to stay. But would they really have dispersed just by moving location? The memories are a part of me, a part of my story. The trick, I am beginning to learn, is to hold on to the best of the past, and let go of the grief and the anger. And in the meantime, go on, creating new memories as you fall in love with life once again.

Says it all.

  

Valentines Day, Past and Present

How times change. Three years ago today, I wrote on the blog about how T had proposed to me 17 years earlier. I remember showing him the post, expecting him to be pleased, touched by it. His reaction was to say gruffly that it was nice - I thought perhaps I had embarrassed him. With the benefit of hindsight I now see his taciturn response was actually guilt. While I was writing nice things about him on my blog, he was secretly conducting an affair. Even so, I received a Valentine card and flowers from him as usual.

A year later, by then all too aware of T's infidelity I wrote about how painful I found Valentine's Day 2009. It was unbearable to remember how I had received that card, those flowers a year earlier, believing them to be genuine tokens of love. It was unbearable to think that as I had been receiving them, another woman had also been receiving love tokens from T. It was unbearable that the card and flowers he sent me had been merely a smokescreen to avoid arousing suspicion, unbearable that I was completely unaware that his true feelings were for someone else. It was unbearable that this someone else knew all about me whilst I remained in blissful ignorance of her existence. It was unbearable that I had been treated like a fool by someone I believed I could truly trust.

Last year I didn't post anything about Valentine's Day. I was struggling with a difficult job, awful weather, and a debilitating chest infection. Yet Valentine's Day had become a source of pleasure, not pain. I received a card, chocolates, flowers. But this time from IB.

I have sometimes shied away from writing too much about IB on the blog. There is a part of me that feels guilty that I have found happiness and love again, so quickly. I never expected to. I worry that others will judge me for moving on so quickly, or believe that this is merely the infamous 'rebound'. I have worried about this myself. And yet... nearly two years since we started seeing each other we are still together. Sometimes he drives me crazy (sometimes I drive him crazy!), yet he can always make me laugh. He is always ready to talk things out, so that our understanding of each other grows and our love deepens. He is hard working, patient, kind, funny, caring. He is affectionate and loving. He understands me. Somehow we just fit together in a way I have never fitted with anyone else.

Today I received a beautiful card. Today we worked together in the greenhouse, clearing it out and cleaning the panes to let the light shine in, planting some early crops. This evening he cooked me a delicious dinner and now we snuggle together on the sofa. Things have changed so much over the last few years. But now, at last, I can relax. I know I am in the right place, with the right person. Perhaps this is where I was meant to be all along.

Story of a Necklace

I will shortly be leaving for this year's Avalon Spring witchcamp. And when choosing what to pack, I was drawn to bring along a necklace which normally sits on my main altar, in a corner of the bedroom.

The story of this necklace goes back to Avalon Spring 2008, where I first became acquainted with it. Dawn Isidora, who was one of the teachers that year, made three beautiful necklaces which she brought with her to be auctioned to raise funds for camp. Three members of the teaching team wore the necklaces throughout camp so that they would soak up the energy of the rituals. I felt an instant kinship for the necklace I was given to wear, and decided I would definitely bid for it in the auction on the final night of camp. Dawn had strung the other two necklaces with a definite intent for their energy, but she said she was unsure what 'my' necklace was about. She had strung it instinctively, and was still unsure what its purpose was.

For me it spoke of love, romantic love. The pale pink pearls (pink being the colour of love) were interspersed with tiny glass hearts and teeny copper beads (copper being the metal of Venus). At that time I had been married for nearly 17 years and whilst I was happy in my marriage it is fair to say that romance wasn't particularly high on the agenda - familiarity having bred a certain amount of taking each other for granted. Nor was I interested in drawing a new love into my life, being decidedly monogamist in my preferences. Nevertheless, I felt I had 'bonded' with the necklace and determined that I would be the winning bidder.

At the auction, I allowed myself a budget of £45. The first necklace sold for an amount comfortably within that limit, and I relaxed a little. The second went for a little higher than my budget, but I told myself hopefully that by now people would have exhausted their spending muscles and I would be lucky. But by now, the end of the auction, people were really getting into the swing of it, and the price for the necklace went up and up, as my heart sunk and sunk. All however, was not lost. My dear friends Georgia and Annie had noticed how much I wanted the necklace, and when my price limit was exceeded and I stopped bidding, they chipped in additional money on my behalf, until at last all competition fell away, and the necklace was mine.

I still remained puzzled as to why I felt so drawn to the necklace, but took it home to sit proudly on my altar and occasionally come out, displayed around my neck.

Later that year, my marriage - much to my surprise - ended, and I was left alone, dazed and confused by this unexpected turn of events.

The necklace lay mostly forgotten on the altar, until a friend from the local Pagan community started to become more than just a friend. At Beltane 2009, I wore my love necklace for the first time with intent; the intent that if the time was right I would open my heart to new possibilities. By the end of the month, IB and I had made the transition from friends to lovers, and my happiness grew and grew.

Today, packing my bags I wanted to bring the necklace, but it has always had a loose fastening and I was worried about losing it. I mentioned it to IB, who promptly delicately, yet securely soldered it so that I can wear it with confidence.

And at Avalon Spring this year, for the first time I will be joined by my partner (T never having been interested in such things), and I can't wait to share this event I love so much with the person I love so much. My happiness continues to grow.

Now my necklace and my love are secure. Don't you just love a happy ending?

365 Days

365 days ago...

You said, "I've got something to tell you. I've met someone."

I waited for the punchline. But there was no humour in the situation. Your china-blue eyes were deadly serious.

"We want to be together. I'm sorry."

I had no words. What could I say?

"I think it's best if I go now and give you some privacy."

Now I had words. Words like, 'why?' and 'how?' and 'when?', but when I tried to speak them, you turned awkwardly and walked away, drove away, away from me and into your new life. And I stood in the wreckage of the old one, alone and quite bewildered by the way everything had suddenly turned upside down.

Today, 365 days later...

He said, "I love you" and kissed the end of my nose as we prepared breakfast together.

I kissed him back, "I love you too," my heart so full as I gazed into his sea-coloured eyes.

The world has turned full circle, a complete year. And in that time everything has changed. Everything is right side up again, bewilderment replaced by contentment. I have lost a husband, but found true love. How has that happened in just 365 days?

Miracles may not happen overnight. But they can clearly manifest in less than a year.

Thank you, multiverse.

Strawberries and Cream

My head said, "You can't eat strawberries and cream for breakfast!" as I searched the fridge for inspiration this morning. "Be sensible. You always eat something low fat, high fibre, low sugar for breakfast."

***

My head said, "You can't start a new relationship. You're just on the rebound. You aren't even properly divorced yet."

and few weeks later,

"You can't be in love. It's too soon. It's not safe. You're too old. It's too late."

***

I smiled.

Sometimes my head doesn't know the whole story. Or even the half of it.

But my heart does.

***

This morning I ate strawberries and cream for breakfast.

They were sweet and juicy and delicious, and my head had to admit that sometimes my heart knows best.

***

Summer Solstice Blessings

Yesterday, I joined with friends to celebrate the Summer Solstice. In the garden of one of the Moot members, we first blessed the area he has earmarked for what will eventually become a stone circle within a grove of trees. The area already feels magical, sacred. I hope we will all celebrate many more festivals together there over the coming years.

Then, as the evening sun slanted through tall trees we watched a ritual drama unfold. The Oak King and Holly King battled for supremacy - the Holly King (of winter) eventually claiming victory over the Oak King (of summer) whose strength begins to decline along with the sun now that the longest day has passed.

However, the visualisation that followed reminded us that there is still plenty of summer left to come, many more blue skies and sunny days before the cool breath of autumn is felt on our skin. The visualisation took us to a midsummer celebration where we took stock of our many blessings at this time, and afterwards we were each given a pouch (handknitted by Pinky) to which we added shells and beads to symbolise those blessings. I took a small, yet perfect spiral shell for mine, which seemed to me to sum up the simple contentment with life that I currently feel.

Having found myself again I have also found new love. My relationship with - well, let's call him IB for now - is blossoming and I am very, very happy.

I am planning for my future and examining ways that I may be able to stay at Halfway Up A Hill, instead of moving as I first thought I would have to when T and I parted.

I have begun co-teaching a series of magickal workshops with a friend, which are going even better than expected and bringing in a little extra cash.

And later this week, my parents will finally - after all kinds of delays and disappointments over the last two years or so - move into their new home, about 10 miles from me. It will be so lovely to have them close by.

So many blessings, summed up in one tiny shell.