A week of walks, questions and stories ...

Is this two trees or one tree, who knows? This wondrous tree(s) greeted me on my way round St John's reservoir. There were many sheep on route but not another single human being. Passing through two derelict farms no roads nearby suggested they have been empty for many years. It seemed that way to me. The day before a white feather guided me toward St Michael's church. I rarely go into churches, this one was old on ancient land and it felt ok. Inside on the archway leading to the alter were the words 'Reverence My Sanctuary'. I liked that, for me walks among the fells and dells of Yorkshire, or anywhere for that matter, are precisely that, reverence in sanctuary. And it reminds me of the alder tree up on the moor. On the lectern sat an opened bible, the page highlighting John 13:31, in the short passage was the line 'And now I give you a new commandment: love one another' - as they say up north - there's nowt fairer than that!

Spring is round the corner, the colours are coming, the colours are coming ... I saw my first sighting of snowdrops this week. Big smiles. Big beautiful earth smiles. On Tuesday I was told by a wise old soul that my colour of the moment is Indigo. The colours are coming, the colours are coming. In the silence I was reminded to go back to the three questions: What do I offer? Who do I make the offer to? Who do I work with? I know to trust answers will emerge when ready.

My second wise soul visitation came from the southern side of the county later the same day. Be patient she said. It's not selfish to look after yourself and to find out what it is that you are resourced by. I maybe invisible to many but not to her, what a massive relief. Be mindful of feedback, it can often be other people's stuff in disguise. Learn to hold yourself. It can be done. Find your own words. And finally another question: do I feel worthy? hum ...



At the end of the week on the day of rest in the week of rest it all began with a dance of bells followed by a clashing and smashing of sticks. Did you know when the dragon awakes in the morning to feel well it needs to feed on stories. There was the tale about the liberation of spring by the silent one, the strong armed one and the one with sharp claws.



The green man gathered us round to remind us that when we wear a woolly jumper we ought not to be surprised if the sheep come into your garden and eat the fruits and the vegetables, well it's only fair - the scales of ecological justice need to be balanced. And from behind a crow lent upon a tree whilst watching over us.



The colours are coming, the colours are coming. As the snow drifts, the flowers rise. The birds feed, the animals feed, the dragons feed; we can all find food as winter abates and the rites of spring draw near. Ask yourself this; what is it that nourishes you?

With some trepidation I have been trying to take a circular walk around Fewston reservoir for years. For some unknown reason I have never been able to make it more than a third of the way round. On Sunday I went up there again, intention seemingly held and even though I got maybe 50 yards further than before mental stumbling blocks forced me to turn back.

I was left asking myself why a straight forward seemingly undemanding walk was becoming such a huge challenge. Why the self defeating thoughts? Where do the doubts come from? What was I afraid of? Yesterday I decided that I needed to push on through the fear, but maybe it's not always about plowing the same path instead why not look at the challenge from a different perspective.

One constant in my unfulfilled challenge is that I have always gone about this circular walk in the same clockwise direction and from the same starting point on the circle. Does it have to be so? A circle is a circle from which ever point you begin and whichever direction you travel. So today I venture up to this beautiful haven and started walking in the opposite direction from previous visits.

I begin by walking across the dam. The reservoir is slowly thawing at the edges as the water thunders through the channel down the weir into Swinsty. The remaining vast skin of ice sits atop the blackness of the water below. Trees of all ages and descriptions walk down to the banks, through which the pathway edges alongside the snaking line of a drystone wall. Now the snow is almost all melted away the colours return. Luscious green grasses mark the fields above the trees and bold mustardy yellow leaves litter the ground.

Somehow the trees act as an escape from the darken depths of the water. Before I know it I'm almost halfway round Fewston and I come across a small promontory with a wooden bench casting a view back from whence I came. I sit and drink in the landscape, it's stillness, the pallet of natural colours and the lapping sounds of the water. Rejuvenated I move on turning the top of Fewston to find the last resting place of a canoe. Maybe when the sun is at is highest it can be fixed up again and carry travellers on different paths.

Becky picks up a young friend lost and confused having become separated from her new family. Back and forth this little one ran, unsure who was who. Eventually we stopped and waited. Two groups of walkers went by and no recognition was made. Then the ears of the young pup twitched, a red coat was visible in the distance and off she ran back home.

The last stretch is more familiar territory having been traversed many times in the last few years. Now what felt strange was knowing I had been unable to get beyond this place before. Maybe my lesson is to take a different approach to seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

West Country School of Myth and Story

Story telling and story listening are such ancients ways of being in community. The swirl of metaphor mingle with sighs and laughter emanating from amongst the circle as the story tellers weave their magic drawing us into the cosmic stardust of a tale or two. And in that precious moment the veil occasionally drops to reveal the invisible ...

Here is an example of a story teller and the art of the shared experience as shown by Robert Bly recalling a Neruda poem ...



For more information on this great tradition that we can all participate check out the West Country School of Myth and Story http://www.schoolofmyth.com/index.html

Today nearly bites, but two events saved the day ...

Ok I woke up feeling not so confident, today was decision day, I kept checking my email for news of a potential bursary to attend a training programme, checking, checking, no news. I left the house to go for a walk and while out near the tarns Becky decides to do a disappearing act. Now I'm feeling angry, my life feels out of control. It's not really, it just feels like I'm at the beck (no pun intended) and call of others. I'm shouting Becky's name very loudly all over the moor, retracing my steps, looking everywhere. Eventually I see her in the distance plodding along, completely chilled doing her own thing. Typical! We get back on our walk and as I'm coming round the top of the tarn, first event to save my day happens, I spot a heron taking off into flight, turning back on itself and sailing off into the distance. Wow. Heron's are so cool. They are the personification of poise, presence and serenity. Even in flight everything seems so together and effortless for them. I didn't manage to grab a photo, it all happened too quick and I was enjoying the moment, but here's a picture I took of another heron I say in the autumn while walking on Walthamstow marshes.



On arriving home still no email, now I'm beginning to sense the news will definitely not be good. It's a classic technique, send out bad news at the end of the working day. That way you don't have to deal with any come back for at least 12 hours and hopefully the receiver of the bad news has calmed down after they've had time to think. I decide I need to do something positive. Quickly I google drumming circle and second event to save my day, as luck would have it a drumming class is starting this very evening in the city near to me. Yeah, my drum given to me for my birthday can now be used as it was intended and not as a laptop stand! I go get myself ready. I'm set to go out and one last check of my emails, there it is, the email that says no you have not got the bursary and no you are not coming on the training. Crapola. Rejection is never easy to take. Yes I feel the size of a small ant. For a few minutes even drumming didn't appeal. After a quick reality check and a swift reminder that this is the year of jumping not wimping out, my drum was in the back of the car and off we went. As I eased opened the door into the drumming room I could hear the roll of drums hailing my entrance, from there it was up up and away!

A day that could have so nearly gone down on record as not so good was saved by a heron and a drum.

In gratitude to the Alder Tree

First let me say all trees are special. Trees are like your kids, you love them all equally and you know they are each precious and different in their own way. Up on the moors near me there is a particular Alder tree that I have been drawn to for sometime. It has gotten me through some very tough situations, provided me with a place of sanctuary and given me the energy to go on. Yesterday I thought it's been a while, possibly a couple of months since I've trekked up there to be with the Alder Tree. Despite the deep snow, it was time to go pay a visit.

It's located off the beaten track alongside a small stream and it appears to be growing out from some rocks. Many a time I've sat with my back to the trunk of this Alder Tree finding protection and solace. A sanctuary if you will from the randomness and chaos going on in the world busying itself below in the valley. Yet in all the whirl of existence there is always a welcome and a sense of peace to be found by the Alder Tree. The stream babbles away, the occasional sheep mooches by above on the sides of the ravine and I often watch the birds swooshing their dance in the sky before me.

Typically where you find one Alder tree not far away there will be others. My Alder Tree has two smaller Alders watching over from just above. In front as you walk back toward civilization there is a small glade of young silver birch saplings looking down on the stream's mini flood plain. In the summer this is a secluded place to take a book and while away a sunny afternoon. Yesterday it was knee deep in powdery snow. There were places where Becky my Labrador nearly disappeared into the depths of the drifts. We scrambled along the banks of the stream until we reached the Alder Tree. It was too cold to stay to long, but I was there long enough to realise this is possibly the first time in ages that I've been up there and felt happy. And in that moment my gratitude for what this Alder Tree has given to me was overwhelming.

On arriving home I read up on the Alder tree in my tree ogham book by Glennie Kindred, and this is what she had to say; "the Alder , like the rowan, has protective qualities, but it is more the protection a spiritual warrior might need in going boldly forth into the unknown. The Alder energy will help you take up challenges, move into new situations and face things which you have previously avoided. It is a balanced energy associated with fire on the one hand, which will bring a masculine direct approach and yet its element is water, feminine and receptive ... The Alder could be a catalyst for changes and challenges in your life ... The Alder tree will help you to balance your fire and water qualities. To know when to move forwards, with strength and courage, challenging everything which doesn't ring true, and when to find inner stillness, and receptivity to divine inspiration which will guide your actions ... they will provide a firm foundation for your life as a spiritual warrior." (p.16-17).

I've always felt blessed to know when needed I can go be with this Alder Tree, now I feel enormously grateful for everything this tree has done and continues to offer.

Assumptions

It's come to my attention (aka stark staring me in the face obvious!) that I make too many assumptions. In any given day I possibly make about a gzillion assumptions, which it is slowly dawning on me is a gzillion to many. Why, you maybe asking yourself? Well I have given this much thought and come to the conclusion that it is because amongst the many amazing happenings taking place in my brain at any given moment, the part that produces assumptions - the frontal zonal precortial thingumyjig - is a little like the appendix. It's like the appendix in that we have no idea evolutionarily why we have this part of the brain that makes assumptions. You see making assumptions is pretty much redundant because they invariably are WRONG and lead to BIG MISUNDERSTANDINGS. Assumptions are a fast track to TROUBLE CITY. In fact assumptions should come with a government health warning, like the kind you get on a packet of cigarettes.

ASSUMPTIONS CAN SERIOUSLY DAMAGE YOUR HEALTH !!!

PASSIVE ASSUMPTIONS CAN KILL !!!

Ok, maybe that last one is a little strong, but you get the point I'm making here. Like your appendix the only time you know you've got one is when it grumbles and sometimes has to be taken out! Very painful. Try having your frontal zonal precortial thingumyjig removed, let me tell you it's not nice. Maybe that's why we continue to make assumptions and put up with the consequential chaos, because the price for removing the said part of the brain that produces assumptions is to high.

In that case let's outlaw assumptions. All we would need is a private members bill to pass through the Houses of Parliament and hey presto assumptions are banned, it's the law. Politics could become interesting and relevant for once. Or am I making another assumption?

I need saving from myself?

Another assumption ... please make it stop.

The Hallway by Miranda July

The Hallway from The Hallway on Vimeo.

Before and After

It's a white out!

Can you see me?
I'm standing somewhere in the middle, waving.
Whaddya mean no!
This image was taken by Nasa's Terra satellite on January 7th about the time me and Becky were out on our daily sledging trip up on the moor. The brilliant blue skies meant it was possible to see Nasa's Terra satellite pass by above and at the very moment the camera went flash I was waving.
You don't believe me ...
So little faith.

Finding Community

In chapter three of Martin Shaw's book 'A Branch from the Lightning Tree, he writes some very thought provoking words on finding community.

"Finding community is a tricky thing, it could be located in your immediate neighborhood, or advertising to get a small group of kindred spirits together, or communicating with people thousands of miles away. It will rarely be a 'village' in the traditional sense, but a meeting of minds. One of the positive aspects of the internet is the capacity to communicate with people instantly, all over the planet. Community can be born in a conversation, or an idea hatched. We have to hold a wider perspective on the potential of the word. We rarely have the luxury of relationships developed over decades in a steady location anymore, we have to be active in our pursuit of shared ideas and support. The idea is to emerge from isolation on the return, not remain in a marginalized position."