Myth Weekend Poem and Pictures

Leaving the village, entering the forest. In myth there is normally three parts to a story; severance, threshold and return. Severance refers to some great change event, such as, losing your job, the end of a relationship, the birth of a child. It is the point in your life when you sever attachments to your old life and you move out of your comfort zone. This is known as leaving the village. You depart from the familiar and enter liminal space the metaphoric forest of transition, learning and change.

This weekend was the first gathering of five in the year programme of the West Country School of Myth and Story (http://www.schoolofmyth.com/courses.html). The purpose of which is to explore the mythic world through story. Being the first gathering it is the point at which we all crossed the threshold leaving our home comforts behind and stepped into the forest of the unknown to delve into the mystery and to listen to what the ancient ones, the elementals, the ancestors have to tell us.

On the Saturday afternoon after listening to the initiatory story of Faithful Johan we were invited to wander the forest and moorland to write our 'I am ...' poem and in so doing to discover our own mythic ground, our innate birthright, our connections to nature and ultimately to claim our ground.

Before I felt the urge to write I followed my instincts to a new part of the woods, a corridor of old beech trees lay off in the distance and I headed towards them. As I came closer I was drawn to a huge boulder. From there I felt eyes upon me and I looked up to see three deer watching me from a far.

I began following the deer trying my best to keep on their trail. It was not easy as they moved fast and the colouring of each deer helped them to easily blend into the background. I eventually saw the originally 3 deer catch up with their herd and in single file they leaped after one another down into the lower woods. See how many of the deer you can see in the picture below?

Before you say none, I can assure you there are at least two deer in this photo, granted at a distance but they are there, moving fast and camouflaged. At this point I decided to stop tracking the deer. They were far to canny and my movement only served to chase them further and further away. Instead I followed the beech trees until I came out on to the moor. A huge panoramic vista opened up before me and for a while I did not know which way to turn. Do I go up high on to the moor or do I follow the path down into the valley and along mariners way back to Heathercombe? In the end I decided to sit down and enjoy the view. And it was whilst sat on the ground looking around me that the words came for my 'I am' poem.

I am

I am an underground cavern
unknown and unseen by anything
except for the passing rain water
permeating from above.

I am a golden daffodil rising
from the ground to trumpet
the spring.

I am a granite stone sitting in
a drystone wall marking the
boundary of a farmers field.

I am a burnt orange autumnal
oak leaf floating down from
tree to ground.

I am the deep throaty moo
of a Frisian cow waiting to
be walked to the milking yard.

I am a deer standing as still
as a Rodin sculpture watching all
in the valley below.

I am the edge of the horizon lost
in a hazy embrace with the sky above.

The Nineties

This week I have had the privilege to have been in the company of two women in their nineties. A very memorable and special experience. When someone reaches the heady heights of 90+ they have my attention.

Grace is as bright as a button. I'd just arrived into a group of 40 or so people most of whom, including Grace, I had not met before. Being somewhat shy I'd grab my cup of tea and sat down in the corner of the lounge near a book shelf. As I was flicking through the pages of a book Grace confidently walked across the room with a big welcoming smile and sat down in the chair beside me immediately striking up a conversation. Within minutes she was telling me a story about when she was a nurse before the war and she would hitch-hike up to the Lake District from London. It would take her two whole days. And then she'd spend a few days walking the fells, some of which we could see through the window of Glenthorn House in Grasmere, before heading back down to London. Grace smiles at me and says I'm 90 you know. She must have seen the surprised look on my face. I would have never have guessed that this spritely diminuitive powerhouse was in her nineties, 75 maybe, but not 90. Grace looked down at the book in my hand. Noticing the name of the author Bede Griffiths she segued into another story of the time she spent in California studying with Matthew Fox. After many months of study she had become accustomed to the American intonation, one evening the guest lecturer stood up and to her amazement spoke in a cut-glass Oxford accent. When she enquired who was speaking it turned out to be none other than Bede Giffiths. In a few short minutes I felt like I'd gotten to know this incredible woman. Grace was such an open free spirit full of life. After our conversation, I saw a book of poems by Grace for sale on the Greenspirit bookstand. Was there no end to Grace's talents? Probably not ...

Phyllis is a vision of loveliness. Earlier in the day she had visited the hairdresser, a weekly appointment she kept along with other regular activities that formed part of her routine in the nursing home. When we arrived she was not in her chair in the lounge or in her bedroom. We sat waiting in the conservatory until one of the care assistants wheeled Phyllis in to meet us. Hello, she said with a beaming smile and a knowing look. The care assistant is telling Phyllis her daughter is here to visit. Where is she? Phyllis asks. I tell her, she'd just popped out the room and that she'd be back in a minute. Nan, I am Fiona your granddaughter. Her face lights up and she puts her hands up to her cheeks with excitement. You look so different. I remember you when you were a baby. I loved you. I love you now. My Nan points out the window, Granny Capron lives just down there on Waterloo Road. My Granny and Grandad live at the school, they clean it. Phyllis is talking to me as if her grandparents are still alive. In her mind she is in her childhood walking the streets of Burry Port in South Wales, looking after her youngest sisters Kathy and Margaret. Then she looks up, I'm in my nineties you know. Yes I say, your ninety three. I don't feel ninety. From when I was a little girl my Nan has always told me she feels 25. In her eighties she would say, Fiona my body aches I'm getting old but in my head I still feel like 25, it's just when I tell my body to do things it doesn't want to do them anymore.

Reflections on Cambui, Campinas, SP, Brasil

We stayed in a wonderful Pousada in the district of Cambui, home from 15 August to 19 September and a very comfortable friendly place to be while in Brasil. I had many a conversation with Angelica, her mum and Ju ... they spoke excellent Portuguese and I did my very best to understand. I can honestly say we never failed to communicate somehow. I was very sad to leave, unfortunately living in a hotel is not a long term option no matter how comfortable and familiar it had become. Cambui is in the city of Campinas. Downtown was as busy and intense as any big city, with the exception of Sao Paolo, which was off the scale in size and INTENSITY. Standing on Avenida Paulista in Sao Paolo made Cambui feel like a country village of subtle quaintness.

When it rained the streets became like streams and if the rain was heavy it did not take long for some roads to flood, the torrents of water had no where else to go. Driving around one Saturday afternoon as the heavens opened proved a very entertaining experience! When a storm arrived the thunder and lightening would go on for what seemed like hours, the weather hanging over the city bringing grey clouds and dropping the temperatures. This would usually last a day at most and then back came the blue skies and the sunshine. Even in the winter months temperature could regularly reach the low to mid 30's. I have no idea how people function in the summer heat! I have two words for you 'air conditioning' ...

Brasil is riding an economic wave. A construction boom was evident everywhere I turned. Lowrise individual single storey homes were being bought up, knocked down and replaced by large high-rise appartments. One day you'd walk along a street and the next a house could be bulldozed in anticipation of future verticle developements. All in the name of progress the skyline of the city was being altered in front of our eyes.

Homes like this ...

And this ...

Are being replaced with this ...

Great views I'm sure, but do we all want to live that high in the clouds?

I adore a touch of natural greenery amongst the concrete, bricks and mortar. A highlight of any city are the sightings of plants, trees and parks. All of which can be found without too much searching. The streets are lined with trees. Many of which were rich in vibrant and verdant flowers displaying their spring plumage. If not flowering they were growing tropical fruits. I saw bananas, mangos and papayas that you could pick as you walked by. Some homeowners made efforts to bring life to their front yards, which added extra colour.

You can't go to Brasil without sampling the delicious food (especially tropical fruits, rice and beans!) and experiencing the sights and sounds of wonderful musicians. And it's a given that the people who are responsible for such delights are warm, welcoming and friendly. In the UK we have pasty's and in Brasil there is pastel. One is baked, the other is fried. To me they are pretty much the same thing and very tasty. Although the waistline needs some elastication if you know what I mean. You can't go wrong with rice and beans, add some salad and fried fish and you have a perfect meal. For those who like Japanese food, Brasil is the country for you. There is an abundance of sushi, tamaki, sashimi, tempura and nigri. And after all that everywhere you look in the grocers and markets there is display upon display of the most awesome tropical fruits and vegetables. I tried so many varieties of natural fruit juices I lost count. My favourite being melancia (watermelon). Most days breakfast consisted of fresh papaya. And the varieties of bananas was a total education for me!

If it makes a noise it is a potential musical instrument ... well it is if you are Brasilian and if you have a love for rhythmn there is no better place to be. I was lucky enough to see a concert by Tambeiro. A group of students from Unicamp who played a range of percussion instruments and drums including the pandeiro and the traditional berimbau - awesome! They could invoke the sound of the ocean or the rain forest and if you closed your eyes it felt like you had been transported out of the theatre somewhere else - incredible. I had heard nothing like it before and will remember that evening forever. At the performance began the musicians and dancer entered from the back of the auditorium walking down the ailses onto the stage. At the end they left the same way finishing outside drawing the audience with them playing for all to hear.

I fell in love with this beautiful place and the warm and welcoming people. It is full of contrasts and extremes. Nowhere is perfect, however, it is definitely a rollercoaster of experiences, well worth the ride.

The uncertainty of the poet

In April 1985 the Tate Gallery, London, announced that it had paid £1 million for a Giorgio de Chirico masterpiece, 'The Uncertainty of the Poet'.

I am a poet.
I am very fond of bananas.

I am bananas.
I am very fond of a poet.

I am a poet of bananas.
I am very fond.

A fond poet of 'I am, I am' -
Very bananas,

Fond of 'Am I bananas,
Am I?' - a very poet.

Bananas of a poet!
Am I fond?' Am I very?

Poet bananas! I am.
I am fond of a 'very'.

I am of very fond bananas.
Am I a poet?

- Wendy Cope -

published in Serious Concerns, 1992, faber and faber, p.33

weekend tunes 'I like'

Truth and Beauty

Mata Atlantica

This week we have been to the Mata Atlantic coast of Sao Paulo State. We explored two places; the small historic town of Paraty and a tiny village called Trindade a little further a long the coast which is a magnet for surfers. As we drove down the highway Sunday afternoon the weather had turned more typically wintery, temperatures dropped from the 30 degree highs of the week and the grey clouds above us occassionally depositied rain. The most dramatic part of the journey was the descent from the coastal mountains down to the sea. The narrow windy steep road would put any Italian Alps incline to shame. Suffice to say we made it down in one piece without connecting with any on-coming buses !!!

We arrived in Paraty just as the weekend Cachasa festival was coming to an end. Remnants of the party were everywhere to see as were a few of the people still in celebratory mode. Paraty is also experiencing a boom in construction. Our Pousada was build so recently the street was not even on our GPS. This caused some circling of local roads and asking of directions from many people before we finally located our destination. Settled in we ventured out to find refreshments. Paraty did not fail. We were enticed into a local restaurant by an eager host and the sounds of live music.




And there we stayed for the rest of the night being serendaded by fine musicians singing a range of Brazilian songs to which Mirella seemed to know most of the lyrics. The food was abundant and delicious as usual and I was encouraged to try the traditional drink of cachasa, which let me tell you tastes like a margarita. Not wanting to get too drunk on my first evening I took to taking delicate small sips.


Paraty has a beautiful historical centre made up of small narrow cobbled streets many of them flood when the weather becomes much more inclement. At which point the transport changes for horse and cart to canoes and boats.


Tourism seemed the main focus. There are many shops selling souvenirs and local products. It is also a mecca for artists. We visited the gallery of Patricia Sada http://www.patriciasada.com.br/atelier.asp and has luck would have it she was there. There were many colourful boats in the harbour available for trips to the islands and tours to see tropical fish in their natural environment.


For me the highlight was being in such a different environment. The tropical forest that hugs the coastline was once bigger than the Amazon and populated by many plants and creatures, including jaguar and tapirs. At night-time the sounds fom the cicadas and others animals and birds created quite a cacophony, especially for someone more used to the ocassional twit-twoos of an owl. On the third night we move to an even smaller village, called Trindade, what you might call a one horse town. Sleeping so close to the ocean the evening chorus had the additional percussion from the crashing waves on to the nearby beach.


On our final day we awoke to a beautiful sun shiny day and decided to take a stroll along the beach to find a natural pool where you can see the fish swimming. It was quite a trek along beaches, over rocky outcrops and throught the forest. There were many flowers blooming, including brightly coloured red birds of paradise and orchids. Having passed over the golden sands we finally reached our destination. A couple of local fishermen were tending to their boat as we walked down the last few steps their friendly dog skipped over the rocks to greet us.


There was time to take a quick dip in the pool. Unfortunately the weather had been very stormy and the waves were disturbing the water making it impossible to see the fish. The swim was very refreshing after the long walk, just what I needed to cool off, however breakfast was calling, after a few minutes enjoying the sea and the views we set-off back to Trindade.

On our drive home to Campinas we stopped off at an organic farm for something to eat. Santa Barbara can be found on the Dos Tamois Road near Jambeiro. It is a tranquil oasis that appears seamingly from nowhere. The theme is Austro-German, although the name lends itself more to California. Whilst eating a delicious meal overlooking a lake populated with ducks and geese we watched many small birds swooping before us from the trees to the bushes. Amongst them were two species of hummingbird. One had dark black and turquoise feathers and the other was caramel and yellow in colouring. After many attempts to capture the swift hummingbirds hovering in front of us I managed to get this picture.

First Week in Cambui

On Tuesday we walked around the centre of Campinas, passed the Town Hall, small parks with the most incredibly tall palm trees and eventually found our way to the historic market. When I say historic, here in Campinas many of the older buildings date back to the beginning of the 20th century. The traditional architectural style of the indoor market stands in stark contrast to all the tall high rise buildings round about. Inside were numerous stalls selling meat, beans, fruits and juices ... all the classical foods of Brazil. When I say they have bananas, there are so many different varieties. An old man was sitting behind his stall eating papaya with a knife, Mirella asked if we could buy one small banana for me to try, with a smile he said ¨just one! you can have it.¨ No exageration, it was one of the tastiest bananas I have every eaten.



The fresh juices are delicious, we had acai at the market, extremely healthy and whilst here I have sampled fresh melon juice, caju, passionfruit, watermelon, orange, kiwi, strawberry and coconut water drunk straight from a coconut. In the shops the displays for fruit and vegetables are huge, brightly colourful and they must take up 60% of the space. Fruits are BIG in every sense of the word!!!



On Wednesday we visited a project across town that supports the educational needs of yound people living in socially deprived areas. The older kids play in a band called Bate Lata. Many of the instruments are made from scrap metals, from this they create an amazing sound of beats, rythmn and song. The money that is collected from each performance is used to pay for further educational courses enabling these youngsters to gain professional qualifications and find work in careers of their choosing that typically they would find difficult to afford thus giving them opportunities to change their lives. I could see the experience of participating in the project also lifts their confidence and self-esteem.



I have been in Brazil for 4 days, many things are very different - the language, the variety and size of the fruits, the trees and the climate (it´s been 30 degrees most of the week, too hot for me!!!) and many things are the same - the shops, businesses and the most intense traffic (at times). And it is as I have read and been told the Brazilian people are the warmest, friendliest people you could ever meet. All good. More to follow ...

Day 1 Brazil

I arrived after a somewhat bumpy 11 hour plane ride from Heathrow to Sao Paolo, thanks to bach flower essences and a wonderfully kind flight attendant called Marco who gave me a little reassuring squeeze on my shoulder everytime he walked by I managed to stay calm and sleep a little. My beautiful girlfriend was waiting at the arrivals gate with a sign welcoming me to Brazilzilzil !!! I'll skipp the description of the next few minutes because it's kind of private and anyway you can use your imaginations. We left the airport at around 6.30am as the sun was rising over the many many towers blocks shaping the skyline of the city of Sao Paolo. Passing football stadium and the venue for Carnival from the car window it is clear that Sao Paolo is huge, the biggest city in Brazil and probably the biggest city I have ever experienced by far. There is evidence of further continued growth from the numerous construction sites I saw and yes in between the corporate buildings and wealthy areas are favalas, creatively arranged habitats build in a higgled-piggled fashion from materials round and about. Eventually we got through the intense traffic and made it into the country-side. Hills and valleys covered in trees, the ocassional clearing with animals or agriculture. Our destination was Cambui, a district in Campinas, before we arrived we made a quick stop at a Frango Assado to sample some Pão de Queijo "cheese bread" - yum and fresh orange juice.

Refreshed and back on the road it was not long until we arrived at Campinas. A city of much more manageable proportions and the place from where my girlfriend and her family live. We stopped off at her father's home to say hello and have some lunch with other members of the family while we waited for the hotel room to be ready. The welcome I received was very friendly and incredibly warm. This evening as the sunsets on my first day in Brazil I am swing on a hammock on the verandah of the Hotel Pousada Cambui wondering how I got this lucky and imagining what adventures await us in the days to come.

Festival of Learning for Social Change

On the last weekend in July Reos Partners organised a Festival of Learning for Social Change in Oxford. An unforeseen gem was the setting, Grove House is tucked away on the south-side of Oxford. Having been loving restored in recent years, it opens it doors to those wishing to celebrate 'friendship and frolics, culture, sensuality and social change'. http://www.grovehouse.info/


Enclosed in lush green grounds and bathed in sunshine we were able to spend most of our time outdoors with the trees, plants, vegetables, fruits and grasses. From above we were joined by the graceful circling of a red kite. The festival was well worth attending. I was familiary with many of the social learning techniques being used, such as, U-process, appreciative enquiry, prototyping, systems thinking, circles, scenarios ... and yet I found a new community within a community, in that most of the people present seemed to be creatives coming from a social justice path rather than an eco-deep ecology path (I could be wrong, that was my impression).

The first session I went to was on social sculpture with Deborah Ravetz. I liked very much this idea of ‘warming what is hidden, ignored or denied’. How can recalling our own life-story helps us find our deepest selves? I did sessions on creative writing as a means of social change and engagement and story-telling as a process of presencing. Can you share a story of a time when you experienced being in the flow? All good. I found myself preferring being on the edges, listening and observing. More and more I am drawn to the contemplative being rather than active doing.


Story and narrative were reoccurring themes throughout the weekend. Once sensitised to this it was evident that people in one-way or another were sharing their own unique sense-making accounts of the world they encountered. During the larger group opening and plenary sessions a whole kaleidoscope of stories were exchanged, experienced and retold. Back home as I reflect on the weekend I am buzzing with a myriad of memories, thoughts, feelings and questions. What I take away from the Festival are new friendships and connections with a group of amazing, open, warm, welcoming and generous people. I was touched by the courageous acts of many to feel and show their own vulnerabilities with those of us present. As well as much laughter and fun, I was deeply moved on many occasions throughout the weekend. I recognise I am always learning and there-in lays the opening for transformation.


If you would like to spend a couple of days questioning, inquiring, co-creating, contemplating, being curious, exploring, observing, collaborating, celebrating, commemorating, presencing, story-telling, writing songs, poetry or prose, witnessing, innovating and generally digging deep into the many ways of knowing bag of the emerging world we live-in I would recommend the next Festival for Social Change or any other learning event offered by Reos Partners. For more information click on http://www.reospartners.com

Permaculture

Knowing I struggle to keep a pot plant alive, never mind the responsibility of a garden or dare I even think it - grow my own veggies - early this summer I decided it was time to get more practical and learn about permaculture!!! I spent 5 days on a beautiful organic farm in deepest Somerset at the foot of the famous Glastonbury Tor discovering the magic of permaculture. It is a vast topic, as endless as the land itself in its varying permutations. In the 1970's Bill Mollinson and David Holmgren first came up with ‘Original Permaculture’ and its principles such as stacking, diversity, succession and edges. This was followed a few years later by the wider philosophy of Design Permaculture and the key planning tools. KPT principles include zoning, scale, network and elevation. Then there is mulching, soil testing, base-mapping, observing and reading the landscape, forest gardens, urban gardening, the people stuff, active deep listening, nonviolent communication, energy, perennial vegetables, plants, the design process proper … and it goes on !!!

And yet Permaculture is as simple as remembering it is way to create an edible ecosystem. It's about growing stuff we and others in the ecosystem can eat. And let's be honest there are many people the world over growing plants and vegetables in ways that could be labelled as permaculture who have never heard of permaculture. Much of it is common-sense to those who hold a deep relationship to the land and the old-ways, particularly indigenous peoples.

Whilst taking a 5-day introductory course with Patrick Whitefield I picked up some real gems of advice that could be applied to all aspects of life.

Don’t take anything as dogma.
Learn the right questions to ask.
Take the principles and with wisdom apply them to your own situation.
Remember the map is not the land, design on the land.
Don’t do anything permanent, like planting trees, in the first 12 months.
LISTEN and OBSERVE, OBSERVE, OBSERVE and then OBSERVE some more !!!
Take your time.
Think ahead in the design.
Leave spaces.
DIVERSITY, DIVERSITY, DIVERSITY.
Take care of the people stuff.

Halfway through the course we spent an afternoon weeding Rob and Colm's pumpkin patch. The weeds were prolific. At first sight of the field it was hard to even see any pumpkins. Slowly and steadyly we pulled out the unwanted vegetation allowing the emergent pumpkins some breathing space and the warmth of the sun. As repetitious and back-breaking as weeding is, the benefits of hands-on work were immense. Not only could we see the results of all our efforts, we knew that in weeks to come beautiful pumpkins would be harvested. I loved the opportunity to learn by doing.

For anyone interested in studying with Patrick and Cathy checkout their website for more information http://www.patrickwhitefield.co.uk

Australian Night Sky

These images taken by Alex Cherney of the night sky in Australia are mesmerising in their beauty. The photograph below was taken on Phillip Island, located about 140 km away from Melbourne, Victoria. For more information visit Alex's website at http://www.terrastro.com


Amateur astronomer Alex Cherney, put together an awesome time-lapse video of the Australian night sky over the ocean. The clip includes 30 hours of exposure (don't worry, it's condensed down into two minutes and 41 seconds), which took over one year to compile.

The Present Moment

I'm present
Maybe not here
In this moment
Or in the Now
As you might imagine
And yet I'm present
At least it feels
That way to me
I walk through the woods
They hold a special place
In my heart
And I'm called to open spaces
Different sacred places
Sitting on a rock
In a field
With panoramic vistas
Visible to all
To see

I'm present
Noticing so much
It's overwhelming
What to do with it all?
And why the need
To do anything at all?
It simply is
I can simply be
Strange the change
From night to day
And the questions that
Appear like;
What is the deer thinking?
Why did the sheep die?
What is making the buzzard
In the air cry?
I'm present