Prayer to the place I am of ...

A prayer to the place I am of ...

The rock rises strongly
Uncompromisingly from below
Making upward motions
Holding secrets that are whispered
Out onto the breath of winds
Carried a far to lands in distant places
The green fields line the valley
Banking up to the rivers edge
Folding into the waters
Flowing speedily by
Uncontrollable, unabashed water
Brings its life quenching message
Reminding me of what power really means
And who we should be listening to
Up on the moor
The bracken tops unfurl
Swaying in the breeze
At summers height they present
Hidden cover from the beating
Rays of the sun
Only to shrink back again
Comes winters frost
No thaw insight
Icy fingers grow along the tributaries
Falling toward the lowlands

Peacemaking

Just saying ... 

... easier said than done.
Better said than not.

Dimpsy Time

Dusk is enveloping from all around
Like a Russian Doll my body contains
The forty nine years I have loved
Each year a doll with a different face, skin and memories
Eyes look out and up into
The Patterning fingers of leaves
Each leaf a curling invitation into the cosmos
Death is calling now
Its warm bell of relief
One inevitable day to visit
Darkness falls
Flickering orange eyes of distant beasts
Are waking into the night
Be there dragons not far from here?
Stillness descends within, settling outside, to still
Until the silhouetted blacks enclose
One last time.

Ruin Nation

Why can you not see what I see?
I try to scream out
Only silence
I am here and invisible to you
In this lonely Ice Palace
When did the freeze come?

Water is everywhere
Too much water
I stop at the flooded road
Scared the waters will rise and take me
I'll be forever gone

I go alone riding the waves
Wishing you were by my side
The waters will subside, one day
The thaw will come
Will we be the same?

From Within Look Out

In the light of events this year, 2016, the view hasn't always been a pretty one. Contemplating political outcomes like Brexit and the US election can invoke a polarising response. The far right and the far left gather their troops, To some these are fantastic liberating times where the voiceless, marginalised and some might say less visible members of community feel rightly heard and others feel severed and divided from their land and feel the fear growing within.

What is happening in Standing Rock, Aleppo, Ukraine, Columbia. Brazil (the list is seemingly endless) ... shows how the human world is becoming more divided and where people are standing up for their values and beliefs.

I heard one reporter from the Wall Street Journal site a conversation with a Trump voter on election night describing the unfolding story not as a political milestone but as 'Spiritual' in its significance to them. There are voices speaking out now that are reaching deep into emotional places to let out what wants to be heard. No matter how seemingly unpalatable, politically incorrect, mislead or misjudged some may portray these utterances, what is not helpful is to continue not to listen.

Not listening only sends people and voices deeper into exile, and the deeper into exile they go the more strongly it will rebound to bite back when it does finally come around.

As I sit and look out on what is going on in 2016, the language of division grows ever more deafening. The schisms and chasms are more stark and the depth of despair widens with it. This is a very dark vantage point upon which to stand.

I choose to be part of the hoop of life, where there is a recognised place for everyone. No one being is more important than any other. Each has their role to play. In this way differences and diversity serve the richness of thriving life. In order to live well we have to learn how to get along. We have to focus on responsibilities more so than on our rights. We have an opportunity to see what brings us together more so than what drives us apart.

The richest most fertile places to be are on the edges of systems, be they biological, social, ecological, economic ... here difference and change come together and the need to adapt, shape shift and transform is at it's highest. This is where invention, innovation and creativity springs from and wells up anew to regenerate and serve life.

Now is the time to seek out the edgy places, people and beings wanting to effect change and to open up new opportunities.

Listen to the voiceless.

Life can and wants to thrive. Be in right relations. Be big hearted and respectful. Offer the hand of peace and friendship without knowing or expecting something in return. Let kindness be your watchword. Follow the river of generosity. The horizon is yet a dream away and soon to be a reality. Dream Big. Dream It All. And Dream Life.

Sitting in the discomfort

In a persons life tension, conflict, misunderstanding will eventually arrive, when added up it can amount to a tonne of suffering. For many the natural response to pain and discomfort is to move away form it, escape it, to deny its existence, to negotiate a way out of it, to project the suffering onto someone or something else; essentially to make the unpleasantness stop. If you burn your fingers who wouldn't reflexively pull away?

Here's the thing; there is much to be uncomfortable, anxious and in pain about. Besides the not insignificant abuses and fallouts felt within family and friendship circles there are the numerous events of war, injustice and abuse happening in our communities and beyond at a human and more than human level. You only have to turn on, tune in or click onto a media outlet to be streamed with news of the most heartbreaking manner.

What do we do with our powerful emotions when triggered? Is it possible to sit in the discomfort and pain and wait patiently for a shift or different story to come along? Is it even reasonable to do this? I am not advocating for harm of any kind here, self or otherwise. This is not a masochists agenda. The suggestion I am trying to make or find in these faltering words is suffering may be a portal into the mystery, the impossible, the entanglement between the stories. And in this liminal place there could be a revelation of something that before may not have been visible? In this numinosity is there something new offered up? Making the unseen seen is risky, challenging and dangerous work.

And yet that is where we find ourselves in the evolution of Gaia. Mother Earth and all of life that relies upon her for every breath and impulse of existence is standing on an epoch changing edge. Go one way and we may perish. Choose another path and we may collectively shift into a more life sustaining and thriving existence. It's as simple as that.

Birthing something new is not meant to be without struggle. It's knowing that the obstacles and pains we are going through are for an intended purpose. The lack of a thriving life intention and purpose brings about  a spiritual gap leading to the unwillingness to use conflict and struggle for the betterment of life rather than a force for retraction and destruction.

No I do not know the direction nor the outcome of this current round of suffering. What I do know is that it is helpful to observe and learn the patterns when triggered personally and collectively. To take responsibility for these patterns and to make choices that lead to thriving life. That way heart-ache can turn into heart-ease.

We live in a time of failing nations, systems and stories. There is gold to be found sitting in the dark and uncomfortable places. Don't be too hasty to leave. Know yourself and know your community and build trust.

Busyness

I feel my days have become a glorification of busy. Productivity has crept in through the door of my life and sat down in the big comfy chair. My pint glass is full to over flowing and yet the pouring continues unabashed. What is to be done?

STOP!

Simple when it is put like that.

When in a system that is moving forward, machine like in it's process, stopping does not seem so simple. The consequence effect the whole.

And yet this is another excuse as Stopping the Busy is possible when my mindset says No More.

A commitment to slowing down, smelling the roses, watching the autumn leaves change their colours and float to the floor, noticing the full moon rise, appreciating the smell of fire smoke drifting over the nearby rooftops, sending the birthday card on time, all of which can be done.

A gentle reminder of the field of possibilities and the choices I can be part of in dreaming into the more beautiful world I know is possible.

DONE!

Shadow Work II

What we see is not always what is there.

"There are no secrets, only things we don't see."
Stephen Harrod Buhner

Difference

When is a criticism or a difference of opinion NOT an attack on another person? When can we comment on what each other is doing and saying without being portrayed as an aggressor? How can we open up safe spaces for exchange, discussion, meaningful conversation, exploration, inquiry, learning without being brought down in a hale of verbal bullets, shaming or point scoring?

All these questions are occupying my mind as I am left bewildered by how politics (be it public or private, personal or supra personal) is taking shape in this binary world.

When can power be used in a shared way allowing for all perspectives and voices to be heard so it becomes power with others as opposed to power over others?

When we sit in circle and not across barriers. When we sit on the ground as equals not in heighten states of aggrandisement. When we recognise the need and importance of all living beings - then we can begin to appreciate power-with and the collective wisdom that is accessed and generated from this stance.

To hold differing opinions, to be different from others - does not need to be used as a means to attack or power over others.

Debate, conversation, discussion all involve a speaker or active agent and a listener or receptive agent and in any exchange there is flux and fluidity between the active and receptive states of being. Power can be shared.

The Pain of Separation (The Longing)

On this journey that begins with the homesickness, the hireath, the suadade, of the heart - we seek to reconnect that which feels separated within us. Upon reconnecting we see the separation was always an illusion.  

Some may get glimpses, fleeting moments of sweet surrender that like a beacon shines a guiding light into our lives leading us home again. Follow your longings. They are your way home. Unique to you.

When the stirring begins we can become disorientated, confused and uncomfortable - some seek refuge in food, escape, thrills, drugs, alcohol ... no judgement ... some seek answers from teachers, guides, gurus ... no judgement ... some vent in anger, vengefulness and violence ... no judgement ... some seek a cure from doctors, therapists, practitioners ... no judgement ...

IT IS TIME TO GO HOME, TO BE HOME, TO BELONG

Some choose to look away from their vulnerability and pain ... no judgement ...

For those who seek Great Spirit, the Divine will infuse your heart with remembering, with beauty, with oneness ... no judgement ... maybe not as you might expect, or when you expect ... YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL ... no judgement ... YOU ARE HOME!

An alternative perspective might say;

Feelings of confusion and disorientation are the signs of an old story no longer working and breaking down. Normal now lies in between stories. Everything is on shaky ground. The shadow has no where to hide and is out in the full glare of public noticing. We can run, but we cannot hide. It is uncomfortable, unpalatable and painful ... refugee children in cold, loveless camps ... people in power making abusive statements ... corruption exposed ... war ... self harm ... all this heightened and ever increasing pain is a sign that change is coming ... it is not an indication to return to old stories, old comforts and or reactionary, isolationist, separate ways of looking after your own ... this is not about building walls internal or external ... it is about keeping focused ... reminding yourself of your true values ... holdings strong to the mast of your ship and riding out the storms of destruction ... because what is coming is not yet possible to see ... the invisible has yet to reveal itself to us ... we are in-between stories ... and this liminal space is no bad thing ... it brings us humbly closer to the mystery and uncertainty ... from here something new can come forward ... hold steady ... hold your own story that is true to you and listen to all those wanting to tell their story ... we all might learn something in the process ... diversity matters!

There is nothing wrong with you!

I absolutely love this photograph and the words running alongside. I feel rejuvenated, uplifted and inspired. More, more, more ...

Poem in Three Parts

I have never met Robert Bly and yet due to modern technology and the vagaries of youtube I can sometimes fool myself into thinking I have. Bly has the most effusive voice and deadpan patter. Speaking clearly and directly he delivers curve balls a plenty, might I catch just one I'd be happy. Being lulled to sleep with his words pouring into my ear is one of life's great gifts, knowing my unconscious is being primed and awakened as I fall asleep again.

Somehow poets long gone are held in high regard. And yet there are poets among us now who can also show the way. To speak the unspeakable is a special kind of word magic. Don't look there, listen here!

Poems in Three Parts

1

Oh on an early morning I think I shall live forever!
I am wrapped in my joyful flesh
As the grass is wrapped in its clouds of green.

2

Rising from a bed where I dreamt
Of long rides past castles and hot coals
The sun lies happily on my knees;
I have suffered and survived the night
Bathed in dark water like any blade of grass.

3

The strong leaves of the box-elder tree
Plunging in the wind call us to disappear
Into the wilds of the universe
Where we shall sit at the foot of a plant
And live forever like the dust.

- Robert Bly - 

Dartmoor Winter Pilgrimage

(Notes from time spent with Carolyn Hillyer, Nigel Shaw and Martin Shaw at Lower Merripit Farm, Dartmoor, Devon from the 30 November – 4 December 2015.)

Indigenous people honour ancestors and the land. As we arrived at our new home for the next four days we found a shrine before us mapping out a winter pilgrimage rooted in Dartmoor. The four directions are set; Wild Horse represents the untamed spirit of the land; Reindeer is the ancient memory; Bear is winter in all its darkness and Owl is night and the ancestors.

The skull of the wild horse is our totem. Dartmoor upon which our feet are pressed represents freedom.

Ancient men and women travel deep within our myths and we carry their stories inside of us. Women who carry heron feathers in their hair remember our people connected to us by blood or land, shaping the road upon which we choose to travel. The stories we carry flow, change and grow as we move. They are mythic, too old to be defined by history and a linear concept of time. They fit more into our ecology and cycles.

We place our feet into the footsteps of our ancestors and tie our spirit to the ancient land. Listen and hear the songs sounding out on these old roads. They resonate with the voices of our ancestors. As we walk we sing of returning, belonging and home. Wild land is crucial to the return.

How do we return to the wild land inside ourselves? What will we find there?

If we are ever blessed to see this land something in us is returned, completed and blessed.

On Dartmoor White Horse Hill woman’s burial site was recently revealed to us again after 4,000 years. Her burial chamber became eroded out of the peat in which in lay. Not for 100 years has anyone touched a Cistven. During the excavation a full intact bone bundle was found. Her bones had been cremated and wrapped around her burial goods.  A 200-beaded necklace was found, this included 7 amber beads and there was also one tin nugget representing the wealth of these lands at that time. The oldest example of spindled wood was found and all these offerings were wrapped in bearskin. This is a truly significant find connecting us to the ancestors of Dartmoor. On the northern section of the moor an arc of ceremonial circles all point towards the White Horse Hill ridge. This is a deeply ritual landscape. Even more recently a new stone circle has been uncovered to further confirm this. The energy is to be observed, felt and experienced when you are here.

Reindeer invites us to journey north to connect us with our time of ice on the lands. There was a time when we were all nomadic. There was a constant search for migration trails showing the movement patterns of our ancestors.  Reindeer roads are awakened and kept alive through our dreams, remembering and song. The reindeer road is the meeting place. Here past and future connect and over lap. We feel the memory of ice on the ice road. Hearth fires have warmed our people through the oldest and coldest times. Our drum is the vessel of the reindeer road. We cradle its mystery in the drum. It’s no longer enough to weep and sing about the loss of our ancestors and their ways.

Bear is next on the wheel of our journey. It represents winter, being in the mystery, death, transformation and thresholds to be crossed. Forty thousand years ago twelve cave bear skulls were found in a circle. Each of the skulls was resting on bear claws. In the centre was a thirteenth big bear skull also resting on bear claws. The skulls are 40,000 years old, carbon dated after they were found a decade ago. It shows Neanderthal people also had a spiritual life and made shrines. There is an old man who guards the cave where the bear skulls were found. You can still go inside the cave if you have permission.

There is no limit to how far back you can go in your journey to connect with our ancestors. We can go back through human, more than human, animal, elemental, rock – eventually we find we are connected to everything. The drum is also a symbol of connection to indigenous peoples. The sacred drum is a symbol of the non-hierarchical, non-religious connection between people, the world and all of life. It’s a symbol of our own indigenous roots. Drums are egalitarian. What happens when our drums are taken from us, exiled, broken and forgotten? How, then, do we keep alive our songs and connect to the ancestors and land? The situation for indigenous peoples for some is getting better than it has been. Some drums are back in the hands of those who treasure them. It is at night the drums come into their own and sing across the land to other hidden drums.

As the wheel turns once more we find Owl, who represents our journey into the night. Owl is an intuitive oracle. Owl is about broken stories and the mending of these stories. We witness and remember in the tent of broken stories. We weave hope in the tent of mending stories. It is important to honour both tents. We are story carriers and as such we have a duty of care to keep sharing the old stories to raise awareness.  It’s our responsibility to keep our ancestors warm and alive.

In front of us our alter has parts of Tawny owls from these lands of Dartmoor. Related to owl and the air is the flute. Sound and music are very much part of being human. Flutes are musical instruments perfectly bonded with the land and the materials of a place and make the sound of that place. Indigenous peoples have a triad of instruments; the drum, the rattle and the flute. You will find representations of these three instruments all over the planet.

We have more examples of flutes made by our ancestors because they were made from materials that do not decay like wood and animal skin used to make drums. Old flutes made from animal bone and clay have been found, for example, in southern Germany a flute made from the bone from a vulture has been dated as 40,000 years old.

Homo sapiens arrived in Europe 50,000 years ago travelling up from Asia and Africa. These peoples definitely brought with them their flutes. In a 45 – 50,000 year old burial site a bear bone flute has been uncovered. A flute has a descriptive sound quality much broader than that of human words. Our ancestor’s musical minds are locked into a different discipline of music. Part of being a human being is a musicality; it brings with it a second voice. Back then it would not be something specialised as it has become today.

Pilgrimage

That afternoon we made our own rattles from wild horse skin and river stones sewn onto sticks given by nearby trees. And we fashioned simple flutes, or whistles using half a walnut shell, sanded discs of wood and hollowed out ash twigs for reeds. These instruments were needed on the pilgrimage into Dartmoor we embarked upon the next day. 

In silence we set off to visit a cistven, a stone row and the remains of a roundhouse. As we walked out we were met by buzzards circling above us, and a herd of wild ponies that came from over the horizon and right up to us to touch, it felt like a blessing from the animal kingdom. 

Before reaching the cistven we collected two objects from nature. The first we donated to our grandfather ancestors as each in turn we stepped up to the stone cistven playing our flute and placing the object within the stones. From their we walked down an incline in between the parallel row of stones down to a small round house at the end. There we lit a fire and gathered to place our second object to our ancestor grandmothers. We sang songs and shared stories. We sipped tea and ate chocolate before lifting ourselves to our feet and heading back to where we had came.

In the afternoon of the same day we continued our pilgrimage, this time taking solo time on the land. It was a moment to listen and make personal offerings. I wandered asking myself, how does wild land encompass our human journeys?

Ancestors

Hear this small plea

Storms are stirring bringing with them

Tumult and turmoil

I’m scared

I see fear in the eyes of others

It’s as if a Great Darkness is descending

I ask for your wisdom

I ask for your assistance

Show me where to place gentle acts of kindness.

Please send delicate parcels of inspiration

To activate hearts lain broken for too long.

Plant seeds of regeneration and healing

In places calling your names

I find myself on the edge between land and water

I yearn for the freedom of the flowing river

I yearn for the soft gentle embrace of the land

They both feel far far away

Illusive even

Ancestors teach me about freedom

The ways of the river and the land

Help me find balance

I feel lost

I ask you Ancestors

If I sit still here will the alarm call of wild birds quieten?

Life the curious Dartmoor pony

Will the woodland creatures see me and come rest by my side?

Can I slow down enough

To be in the flow of the river of life?

If I sit here tell me, will I become wrapped

In the mossy blanket of wild land dreaming?

Like ancestors before and descendants to come

Help me to keep the hearth fire burning

In welcome of passers by

Guardian Angel

Warm

Unconditional

Uncompromising

Insistent

Feed me

Feed me meat

Feed me more

On my terms

Not yours

Only you

Can do this for me

In return

I give you

My everything

My heart

My all

Feed me

Feed me meat

Feed me more

I will never leave you

My battles are my battles

Fight your own fight

And we will meet

Together at home again

To lick our wounds clean

Follow the Sun

Be guided by the Moon

Love your life

Stars foretell in ways

We both cannot fathom

And yet we each have our own star

In the sky just for us

Be alert

Strangeness can arrive at the door

At anytime

This cannot be stopped

We may walk this land each day

I go alone

Trust I will return

When I return
I will notice your movements

Mapping and Retelling World Narratives

(Notes from a short course taught by Atossa Soltani and Louis Fox at Schumacher College from 16 - 20 Nov 2015. Atossa is a rainforest activist and founder of Amazon Watch. Louis is a film-maker, producer and messenger.)

How do we tell our own indigenous story?

The Maori people have a tradition, upon meeting someone they tell them the story of their lineage. In so doing they tell you where they are from, where they are at and what their name means.

Its estimated that 4% of the worlds population is indigenous, this means living in traditional ways, and these indigenous peoples are guardians to 80% of the world's known biodiversity. If we had an aspiration to be good ancestors our world view would be very different from that put forward in the dominant paradigm of the West.

To be able to tell our stories we first needed to know where we are at - our stepping off point is what's known as the dominant paradigm, called by some the industrial growth society. This is not a palatable story for many; how might we go about changing this story? Or at least subverting it in an attempt to wake up to what is happening about us in the world today.

Some say, if we want to change the narrative we live in and to understand the source of our current challenges  go upstream of the story. If our values and cultural beliefs are not aligned then our behaviours will be off centre and out of balance. The way to intervene in the system and to change the stories and narratives we live by is to make visible the unintended consequences of these stories and to wake up to the unstated assumptions they are founded upon.

To go upstream allows us to see beyond the veil - to see beyond the visible to the invisible realms.

How do fish become aware of water?

Story-tellers seeking to tell a more balanced, kind, equal, healing and regenerative story than the one we are currently living go upstream and find the deeper need being met by dominant stories told today. By identifying and connecting to the deeper need it is possible to replace the current story with a new story that is socially and ecologically healthy and removes the toxic mimic being fed to us. By locating and naming the toxic mimics and swopping them for something healing and healthy, balanced and harmonious we slowly begin to change the world we inhabit.

It is suggested that modern life is meeting our genuine needs for safety, creativity, play, intimacy, love, friendship, food ... in unhealthy ways that often unknown to us are toxic. These toxic mimics being fed through the modern story can be changed. For example - war is a toxic mimic in response to the need for play; pornography is a toxic mimic for intimacy; social media is a toxic mimic for meeting with friends around a fire. Toxic mimics become addictive, we keep going back to them for more because they don't fulfil our need quite as we want them to.  Thus creating an emptiness due to the unmet need.

As story tellers, educators and activists we can help people find the true nourishment they are seeking rather than the toxic mimic being sold to them. First by helping people to identify the true need behind the surface story or behaviours they are acting out and then to create stories by which they can better and more truly meet their need in a regenerative way.

Language, vocabulary, culture, story are so important in framing the world we live in. They can all be changed to better match the world we want to participate in and be a part of shaping and influencing. What we think, say and do matters.

Hot Practice

Beat -
Fast, energetic, angry
Beat -
Loud, very loud, at the top of my voice, being heard
Beat -
Energy rising, heart thumping, first pumping energy
Beat -
In Your Face! Fast, and now I'm in the flow of my body
What have I been repressing?
No! No! No!
This is not okay
Aaarrrghhh
Beat -
A release, an aching body, exhaustion, aching heat
Misunderstood, unheard
Fuck Off
Fuck off all of you
Make the pain stop and go away
Beat -
Tear stained anger spilling from my body, set free
Beat -
It's okay to be loud
Turn up the volume
Push back, no more, let the anger flow
Release the dam
Move on
Unleashed, untethered again
Beat -
Don't hang back or hold on
Beat -
Feel the emptying out, no doubt
raw and uncut
Beat -
I'm done.

Now Is The Time

Meanwhile ...
The Digital Age brings its binary logic.
The chattering 1's and 2's gossip their news.
Whilst ...
Nearby on the edge of the woods
A fallow Dear grazes.
The sun quietly slips below the hillside.
Mist descends blurring visions,
Allowing twilight magic to happen.
Moon beams.
   Stars shine.
1's and 2's cease their chatter.
Off the breeze comes a song few hear.
Even fewer sing.
A song of such utmost beauty
Flowers drop their heads in praise,
Foxes hush their cries and
Crow for one brief moment sheds a tear of remembrance.
It's there, in this song that wedding vows are truly made.
Tongues speak their ancient language
We all once knew and our hearts quench.
In this song,
   In this profoundest of loves,
The alchemical wedding is found.
Walk the edges and you to may hear the song
And stumble upon the wedding feast.
If you do, be sure to eat and drink your fill.

Be Like a Tree

Having a 13 week old son is not conducive to blogging.

There simply is no way around that.

Just before Oliver was born I read Philip Pullman's 'The Good Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ'. It's a book that was gifted and not necessarily a title I would have naturally purchased myself. Whilst reading the book I discovered it was part of the Myths Series. These are well known stories reauthorised to retell a myth in a contemporary and memorable way. I have read many other titles in the myth series as I am fascinated by the subject of Myth in our lives. I was surprised to find the story of the New Testament included in the series. Knowing that 'Myth' is the context of the book made reading Philip Pullman's version that much more interesting for me.

And let's face it the lead up to Christmas is also quite an appropriate time to read such a book, as would Easter, both being key Christian times of the year.

Towards the end of the book there is a section which really landed with me and has stayed with me ever since. These are words that stirred up my thoughts and I have returned to reread them a few times since finishing the book.

"Jesus went across the valley to a garden the slopes of the Mount of Olives ... [he] went apart a little way and knelt down. 

'You're not listening', he whispered. 'I've been speaking to you all my life and all I've heard back is silence.'

'Lord, if I thought you were listening, I'd pray for this above all: that any church set up in your name should remain poor, and powerless, and modest. That it should yield no authority except that of love. That it should never cast anyone out. That it should own no property and make no laws. That it should not condemn, but only forgive. That it should be not like a palace with marble walls and polished floors, and guards standing at the door, but like a tree with it's roots deep in the soil, that shelters every kind of bird and beast and gives blossom in the spring and shade in the hot sun and fruit in the season, and in time give up its good sound wood for the carpenter, but that sheds many thousands of seeds so that new trees can grow in its place. Does the tree say to the sparrow "Get out you don't belong here?" Does the tree say to the hungry man "This fruit is not for you?" Does the tree test the loyalty of the beast before it allows them into the shade?

This is all I can do now, whisper into the silence. How much longer will I even feel like doing that? You're not there. You've never heard me. I'd do better to talk to a tree, to talk to a dog, an owl, a little grasshopper. They'll always be there. I'm with the fool in the psalm. You thought we could get on without you; no - you didn't care whether we got on without you or not. You just got up and left. So that's what we're doing, we're getting on. I'm part of the world, and I love every grain of sand and blade of grass and drop of blood in it. There might as well not be anything else, because these things are enough to gladden the heart and calm the spirit; and we know they delight the body. Body and spirit ... is there a difference? Where does one end and the other begin? Aren't they the same?*

*Excerpt from pages 192 - 200.

It feels to me these words resonate with the premise that as humans we are spiritual beings all of one consciousness having a human experience. The individual part of ourselves is the ego that is more focused on our separateness and all that comes with that; competition, fear, violence, greed, power over others, othering etc. The more transcendental part of ourselves recognises that everything is connected to everything else. In that way what we do to 'others' if there was such a thing is what we do to ourselves, because fundamentally there is no difference. Life is life. Love is love. Life is love. Anything else results in suffering.

Indigenous in Devon

Can some one born and educated in a modern privileged western country be indigenous? Is it possible to reclaim relatedness to our ancestors and connectedness to the places in which we live? If so, how do we go about it? This is a search I have embarked during the autumn of 2015. It is possibly to soon to emphatically respond to these questions. Having been somewhat 'foie grased' with ceremony, ritual, story, sacred experiences, practical skills and much more I can't even begin to put into words how I am feeling or if I have become indigenous. My body/mind/sense are full to the brim. My mind is swirling with experiences, memories and information. It takes time for all of this to settle. Spirits and ancestors have been invoked at such an intensity I do not yet know what the effect will be on them or me. I am told our ancestors are always nearby and wanting, nee extremely willing to help. To be initiated we need to ask the ancestors for their advise, help and support or even give them out worries, problems and woes when they become to big or heavy to carry.

I have set up alters,
I have made offerings,
smoked a peace pipe,
been smudged,
smudged others,
been steamed,
made offerings to the elements of fire, water, earth and air,
I have called out for a vision,
I have called in the four directions,
I have prayed and patled,
I have sung and danced a lot,
I have walked, pilgrimaged and vigiled,
I have spoken to the one legged, winged and four legged,
I have shed tears, shouted and screamed,
I WANT MY LIFE!
I have made sacred instruments,
I have been blessed and made blessings,
And I have sat in circle endlessly.

I am aware that my life is constantly in ceremony.
Everything is sacred.
Life is at the centre of all things.

Where do I go from here?
I have to embody and live this way of being for myself
And for my family, friends and community.
It starts with honouring the new moon and the full moon.
It is followed by seeing in the solstices and equinoxes.
I will practice ceremony at key moments, such as the birth of our son.
I will seek to visit the sacred sites near to me.
I will develop my ability to listen deeply to the land, the ancestors, the elements.
I will find my activism, my gift back to my people.
And I will develop my crafting.
I will honour and open up simple circles for others.

If this is not becoming indigenous I don't know what is.
I feel it is less a destination and more a conversation.
Once opened my commitment is to show up, nurture and continue.
That is the relatedness, the connection and the relationship
with everything, with life that nourishes me and
My hope and wish is it also nourishes all of life in return.
This is a radical and regenerative act.
And in time, if it is meant to be,
I may become a river to my people.
Then I would feel truly indigenous and wild again.
Woven back into my lineage and the land upon which I live.