Shared Cuppas!

Today, I’m chatting to friends around the world through the miracle of technology. Rather wishing I could pop over to say Hello in person, but until then…

Friday love to you all, wherever you are. Enjoy your beverage of choice along with me, to keep fuelled and inspired 😊

Advertisements

UK Eclipse

Today, there was a total eclipse in America. Not so over here… but there was certainly something going on in the air.

As the day went on, I grew increasingly tired. Unable to concentrate, having trouble doing much of anything.

This gradually turned into a terrible attack of anxiety and depression, which had been threatening all day. Himself wasn’t immune either.

We resolved to head into the village for a quick ‘hit and run’ (not literally) to the shops, to find something cheering for tea. 

Heading outside, the silence was eerie. The light was bright enough at 7.30pm, but strangely yellowish. The air felt thick, cloying and heavy. Nobody else was about.

As we returned up the hill (mission successful), clouds hid both sun and moon. But as we turned towards home, there was a glimmer of sky and some sunbeams. By the time we stepped out of the car, the eclipse would be over – and the air felt amazingly fresh. I could breathe again! 

It’s still happening. My head feels lighter, sounds and visuals brighter, thoughts clearer. Something has changed as the world turned.

As I couldn’t take a picture of the eclipse (and as many have asked), here’s a picture of the extremely pink circular vortex of my in-progress knitting (atop a sleeping Fen). Which feels even softer to my touch now, too. Creativity in yarn and in words here, for your consideration.

We bear witness to the movements of the universe, just along for the ride…

xx


(Yarn is a OOAK by CountessAblaze, Pattern is ‘Mint Latte’)

Voices

Today… inspiration, but also gratitude. I am thankful and deeply touched by the voices of those who read my words.

Creative folk will know how hard it can be to expose your work to the world. I’m often nervous about doing so, but take a deep breath and press the button to Save or Publish, before the doubt gets overwhelming.

The words I’ve received in return have been so wonderful.

Today was a hard day. I fought, but was unable to stop a watery meltdown this morning. This was fixed by Himself being fantastic (as always), but also by the ‘ping’ of comments arriving from my blog posts. And an unexpected gift from one very special lady. 

The Universe hears us, of this I am sure. Too many times, far beyond coincidence, the perfect thing has appeared, precisely when needed. This actually set me off again, tearing up – but now in happiness, overwhelmed with awe at the generosity and love stretching across the internet. 

I do what I do because my words find connection. I speak my truth, because to do any less would dishonour you, the reader or listener. Please know that I am so very thankful for you all.

The flame of my inspiration is rising. The breath of many keeps it alive xxx

Restart

Today. Temperatures in the minus, Himself on night shifts so I’m not sure what day it is, only that it’s daytime… but things are moving. Restarting life after too long a pause, it feels like. But I have my touchstone of my homeland to keep me grounded.

Every day, without fail, I must walk the dogs. Gearing up to it can feel like a chore, but once we’re outside, their joy buoys me up as we explore what’s changed on the hill since we were last out.

Last night, we had flurries of snow. Today, thick fog. Not cloying, but like a gentle blanket draped across us. Everything is tipped with white from the frost. A spiderweb on a postbox is jewel-like. My neighbour has already placed bread out for the sparrows and blackbirds.

No matter what chaos is going on in the world, my hilltop is my home. Always discovering more about it, feeling with all my senses (including mud up past my ankles on occasion!), and now ready to face the day.

Restarting this blog is the first step in Doing. Moving forward xx

misty-fields

Seeking the Sacred

Today:

I can’t do this. I can’t. It’s too much. Better to just hide, to let it pass. I’ll feel better eventually.

No.

The voices come, tapping at my mind. No – that’s not right. Not voices, exactly, but knowing, thoughts, feelings. My subconscious is kicking me to move, to do, to get on. You have an idea. Get on with it, or it’ll be gone, and you’ll feel even worse.

I think back, to this morning. A story told to me by a beautiful priestess, of her own work with her Goddess, her commitment and bravery. I remember her smile, so very bright, and the hard work she puts in to her community.

This is spirituality. This is work, but it’s not – it’s just doing, being. A compulsion, drive, vocation. Making manifest what’s inside us.

I think back again, to the stories I’ve heard in the last week. Of doubts and accomplishments, madness and survival. The impossible but true. The voices of old friends and total strangers. Somehow, they know I’ll listen without judgement, and I do.

But where’s my voice? What am I doing with all of this? The current of inspiration is entering me, but then stalling, not flowing on. The connection needs to be reforged.

I call to those who listen to me. Random words – a prayer, a spell? Or just talking? Does it matter? I speak, and they hear.

I feel my stomach unclench, muscles loosen that I hadn’t realized were tense. My heart lifts a little. I reach out and fuss my puppy-dogs, who’ve been guarding me. One is curled up on my feet as I write this – one of his human companions, his safe place. Simple connection.

I remember what it feels like – the feeling of Self which that black fog blocks. I think of brief images from social media, as if friends have been rapping on my mind as well: wake UP, dammit! And myths of darkness, heading deep within to find what’s there – not evil or destruction (well, not quite) but treasure. A quest is pointless is there’s no challenge to battle through, with goal ahead and journey to learn from.

I love synchronicity. The map we have to remind ourselves to consult from time to time.

I remember love and laughter, joy in simple things. So easy to lose sometimes, but then easy to recall as well, if you know how and what you’re aiming for.

Yesterday, I was explaining to a random Interested Person about the sacred in the world around. He kind of understood, but the words weren’t sufficient – arm-waving was needed, and foot-stamping, and a lot of metaphor and random noises. We got there. Common ground.

And I was speaking to someone online who wasn’t really listening, caught up in their own concerns. Sadly, I had to step away. But I’m still here, and they know that.

I’ve been gifted two candles this month: one crafted, one foraged. They will light the way, as all of these people (and more) are inspiring me with their tales, bringing me back to what’s important.

The old tale of the Druid teacher is that they stand at the edge of the Forest of the Unknown, waiting as guide. Sometimes they point the way and let you step forward; sometimes they kick your arse to get on with it! Even Merlin went mad among those trees, but that wasn’t the end.

This is only the first step of this particular side-road. I can feel change in the air as my homeland turns into Autumn (my favourite season), and know it’s time to move. I’m not sure where I’ll end up, but the Fool’s journey has to begin.

 

I’ve often been asked about my writing process. It’s something like this. I would apologise for its randomness, but I feel it has to come out this way today – so here it is.

For an explanation of precisely what I’m doing, visit my main Druidry blog, The Catbox.

We step onto the winding road and head into the unknown…

Reaching

I call to the wind
Feel its touch on my face
And its breath through the leaves
As is mine.

I call to the sun
Feel the heat in my fingers
Life running through
Inside and out.

I call to the rain
Touch the full clouds above
Taste the damp in the air
And beneath my bare feet.

I call to the earth
Questing down, rooting deep
And unable to find words…
So I stand.

I reach, all around
Heart to soul, spirit to spirit
So different and yet
Connected.

I see people stare.
They want to feel as I do.

And you know what?
You can.

Lessons in Story

It’s been a busy few months. I anticipated pauses in this blog, but the lapse shows how frenetic things have been (or how my own tiredness). But doing my best to resume with quality writing, rather than just a concession to mark a day…

Yesterday was Pagan Pride in Nottingham. The fifth year, and I’ve attended every one. So many people (always more each time), varied opinions as much as outfits, ideas and reasons for coming along.

The talk I gave was about Priesthood, but in the course of it, one small idea stuck with me. It’s still there now, and so it is being caught in a WordPress net, to share – as seems appropriate.

We all tell our stories. We live them, every day, uncertain of what will come next, but having to face the adventures as they arrive in front of us. Good or bad, and often without any sense of overarching plot or control. But these are our stories, and none are as valid or invalid as any other.

Yesterday, I spoke with so many people, listening to their stories and giving a little of my own. Today, I’m exhausted – all that energy deployed in that rush of hours and chatter, shared hugs and space.

I force myself to work, though. I have to, or I find myself dragged down with the sense of ‘should be doing something!’ So I’m picking up review books that I’ve been asked to write about.

Today’s offering has gripped me and pulled me into its world. The review will come in full, but suffice to say it’s an anthology of fiction, short stories of such breathtaking originality that every one makes me rather wish they were longer (even though that might well spoil the effect).

Stephen King said that a novel is a relationship – a short story is like a kiss. Both intimate, but in different ways. Each story I hear from people feels similar, as they open themselves just a crack to show me secrets, thoughts, anecdotes… and so I listen. I may review these in my head, but I try not to judge.

The good stories stay with us. Every one has a lesson, and not necessarily the one you might think (even a bad tale reminds us not to do things that way again!). If we pause to consider, to listen and review, we learn. That relationship touches us, just for a moment… and there lies its value.

People in front of us or via computer screen, voices from the pages of the past or across continents. Me, now. What stories do you hear today, and which do you hold on to moving forward? And what stories do you tell?