The 'C' Word, Part 3: Building Bridges

I went to my first Reclaiming WitchCamp (Avalon, held near Glastonbury) in 1998, and loved it so much I went back the following year. The year after that I joined the organising group. It became an important annual event in my calendar: every summer, a week at Avalon WitchCamp, and the people I met at the camp became my spiritual community. In 2006, I nervously became a student teacher at Avalon, and in 2007 I was asked to teach again. Except it didn't happen. For a variety of reasons, Avalon WitchCamp 2007 was cancelled (I'm reasonably sure my shortcomings as a teacher weren't a major contributing factor!). The repercussions of the cancellation  were many and various, including the organising of a Summer Gathering, and also the birth of a new, second British WitchCamp, Dragonrise.

It was a turbulent time for the British Reclaiming Community. I've a written a little about it here, but for the most part - not wanting to stir up additional controversy or add fuel to any smouldering fires - I've skirted around the more difficult areas. But suffice it to say, difficulties at the 2006 camp caused divisions that derailed the 2007 camp. Dragonrise Camp arose in part as an alternative to Avalon Camp for those who were dissatisfied with Avalon or wanted to try a different model. And although both camps behaved well - even helpfully - towards each other (agreeing to hold camps in alternate years so as not to be in direct competition, for example), there remained a certain amount of distance between them. Some people in the community fell very definitely into the 'Avalon' side and others into team 'Dragonrise'. Still others - myself included - maintained links with both communities.

In 2009 I was asked to be a resource teacher at Dragonrise but couldn't accept due to other commitments, and in 2011 I was too late booking a ticket and missed out. In 2012, Avalon (by now re-named Avalon Spring) had to be cancelled due to low bookings, so by this year I was determined to attend Dragonrise for the first time! I booked my ticket early, and was looking forward to attending a WitchCamp as an ordinary camper with no responsibilities except to myself for the first time in a while. And then a couple of months before camp was due I got a phone call...

Changes within the teaching team had created a vacancy. Would I like to fill that vacancy? Of course, I said yes.

******

How does this fit with our theme of Closure? Well, as mentioned above, there was still some healing to be done between the two camps. And I felt I needed some healing on a personal level since the fall-out from the cancellation of Avalon 2007. I'd found the split in the community very distressing, and papering over the cracks and pulling together warring factions to create the Summer Gathering was far more stressful than I could possibly have imagined. And now once again, only a week after the emotional upheavals of the wedding in Essex, I found myself faced with the prospect of re-visiting old 'issues' and the opportunity to finally resolve them.

From the outset, joining the Dragonrise teaching team was reassuring. There's a huge amount of work involved in teaching a WitchCamp, and joining the planning process at such a late stage was to say the least nerve-wracking! However, my fellow teachers (Chelidon, Suus and Fortuna) were very welcoming to this late-comer. From the outset we worked extremely well together and things proceeded very smoothly. By strange co-incidence, Chelidon had been my co-teacher for my first WitchCamp teaching experience at Avalon in 2006. We gathered together for in-person pre-camp planning a few days before camp started at the lovely home of one of the Dragonrise organisers, Raven, who had also been on the teaching team at Avalon 2006.  Before camp even started I felt loose ends left hanging for years were being tied up, old wounds finally being soothed and healed.

The camp itself was a delight. Lovely venue, amazing food (a thousand 'thank you's to the fabulous cooks, Amanda and Raven), wonderful people (some of whom I hadn't seen since the 2007 Summer Gathering or earlier), favourable weather, and the Paths (teaching groups) and evening rituals went really well.

By the time we found ourselves gathered for the closing ritual I was feeling very happy that we had had such a wonderful camp, satisfied with the renewal and strengthening of old connections, and very sad to be saying goodbye to such a lovely group of old and new friends. For me, Dragonrise 2013 was magical: a totally reaffirming and healing experience for which I am very grateful. I certainly intend to book my place at Dragonrise 2015 as soon as I can.

See you there?

******

Anyone would think this was enough closure for one summer, wouldn't they? After the Birthday, the Wedding and the WitchCamp, I myself thought that was it. More than enough to process and work through. But there was more in store. Something I had been trying for some time to push away and not deal with was coming to the fore, demanding my attention whether I wanted to deal with it or not. At Dragonrise I had the chance to build bridges. But on my return there was another bridge waiting, and this one needed burning...

(To be continued!)






  

    

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.

October Tree of Life

A small heads up: The October issue of Pagan Pages e-magazine is now available, including my Tree of Life column!

Hysterical/Historical

This is a little off topic - but I hope you'll forgive me! It's a video written, directed by and starring my multi-talented brother who works full-time as a Henry VIII re-enactor, mostly teaching Tudor history to schoolchildren.

I think the video is hilarious - hope you like it too.

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...

Back Soon! In the Meantme...

Just popping in to say that this has been a memorable summer with lots of Big Stuff happening - and I'm finally getting around to writing about it. So either one mega-post or several short ones will be appearing soon. In the meantime, a little reminder that I have been writing a column for the online 'Pagan Pages' e-zine. My current column (The Tree of Life) can be found here, and previous columns are in the archives (or there are links at the bottom of the current Tree of Life post).

Back soon...

Ouch...!

My left hand - in happier times!

I am in pain. I have somehow torn a ligament in my left shoulder. Well, not 'somehow', I know exactly when and where it happened, just not 'why?'. On Saturday night, as I was undressing for bed I pulled my top off over my head - as I do every night. But on Saturday, for some reason I suddenly experienced a stabbing pain in my shoulder. I assumed I had just twisted it in some awkward way and by morning it would be feeling better. But by morning it was no better, and the pain was so severe when I tried to use my arm that I realised it was more than just a simple twist.

IB was lovely and took very good care of me - he took me to the cinema and out for a Chinese meal to cheer me up. I must admit that sitting motionless in the cinema for a couple of hours and being so scared by all the zombies in 'World War Z' my shoulder didn't hurt a bit (I made sure IB was sitting on my right so I could grab his arm during the scary bits!).

On Monday I downed some painkillers and set off to work, but even mostly working one-handed, by the afternoon the injured shoulder was so painful I had to cancel my afternoon job. I just about managed to work again on Tuesday morning (praise be to Paracetamol!) and luckily had Tuesday afternoon free anyway. But once the painkillers wore off, it became clear that the injury was becoming more, not less painful, and I began to worry that in trying to mute the pain and use my arm  in even a limited way, I was compounding the injury. Furthermore it was getting harder and harder to drive the car to work (or anywhere!) as changing gear was excruciatingly painful.

I rang my Wednesday morning job and explained the situation, and to my relief they said to take the day off. That afternoon my Dad very kindly drove me to the doctor's surgery. My GP gave me a thorough examination during which she eliminated the possibility of a pinched/trapped nerve (I retain full feeling in my hands/arms/shoulders, my grip is unaffected and I can move my arm normally - or I could if it didn't hurt so damn much). She is unable to say definitively if it's a torn muscle or a torn ligament, but my money is on the second. I've torn a muscle in the past, but while that was painful enough, I have never known joint pain like I am currently experiencing. If it is a ligament, it will take months to fully heal.

So I now have painkilling gel to rub into the affected area - well, I say 'rub' but it's more like 'dab on extremely gingerly' as even the lightest touch on my shoulder is currently enough to make me yelp. I also have some prescription painkillers, and I have put my arm in a sling which helps to support it and also acts as a reminder NOT TO USE IT even if the painkillers have dulled down the pain level. I have had to cancel the rest of my work week, which is a worry as things are pretty hand-to-mouth around here at the moment (I have lost a couple of clients since their own working hours were cut due to the recession). T though, has been kind enough to offer financial assistance if I need it.

The good news is that after doing virtually nothing yesterday except seeing the doctor, for the first time since Saturday, my shoulder feels a little better. It is still too painful to use my left arm for anything much, but the pain now seems less intense and more localised - initially my whole shoulder was jangling with pain and the ache extended from my jaw down my arm to my pinky finger. So I am hopeful that with a few more days' rest, I will be able to resume work as usual on Monday.

But isn't it strange how you take things for granted until they are not available to you any more? Left arm, as a right-handed person I have probably taken you for granted a lot of the time. I now realise that even if my right arm takes the lead most of the time, you are always there to lend support and stability, help with the heavy lifting, contribute to the alchemy of left and right co-creating together. Without you, I can't drive, or knit, or tie my hair back off my face; I can't use shears, or drain a heavy saucepan, or carry the basket of laundry to the washing machine. Precious shoulder joints, I never before fully appreciated the range of motion afforded to my arms by your flexibility and strength. I never really thought about the strain I put on you by carrying, lifting, digging, climbing, waving, swimming, painting a ceiling...

Our bodies are wondrous, complex things. All too often we focus on the things we don't like about them (wobbly tummy, frizzy hair, clicky knees, crooked nose, lack of sporting prowess, short sightedness, long sightedness, allergies...) instead of appreciating all the wonderful things they allow us to do and see and hear and taste and touch and smell and access, every day. Every. Day. While I take time out to recuperate, I am also taking time out to contemplate and appreciate and thank my wonderful body. It has served me well over the years. Thank you, thank you, thank you.