Friday eve 29th October 2010...

It has been a wild and windy evening, the autumnal leaves sashaying and swirling from one place to the next, making unique patterns lasting moments, nothing seemed to settle for long. As I wandered up the hill navigating my own path through the twilight I collected leaves from the woodland floor. Before reaching the place I had chosen I'd ducked under branches and lost my footing into the mud. She would be padding about following scents here and there, occasionally lifting her head to listen. I set my bag to one side and began the process of making a small nature alter on a stone next to the stream.


I called in the spirits and ancestors from the four corners and welcomed father sky and mother earth to our ceremony this night. By now the twilight had deepened into darkness. Leaves were cascading down from the surrounding trees, some gently glancing my shoulders. I nestled the container holding Becky's ashes into the mossy rocks of the dryer raised section of the stream secluded under the wooden bridge. She would be sat nearby, scanning the horizon, in no hurry.


By the light of a torch I read aloud as best I could a beautiful Mary Oliver poem that sums up everything I could possibly say in words from my heart.

Her Grave*
She would come back, dripping thick water, from the green bog.
She would fall at my feet, she would draw the black skin
from her gums, in a hideous and wonderful smile -
and I would rub my hands over her pricked ears and
her cunning elbow,
and I would hug the barrel of her body, amazed at the unassuming
perfect arch of her neck.
~
It took one to carry her ashes into the woods.
I did not think of music,
anyway, the wind rustling
the leaves echoed my every step.
~
Her wolfish, invitational, half-pounce.

Her great and lordly satisfaction at having chased something.

My great and lordly satisfaction at her splash
of happiness as she barged
through the pitch pines swiping my face with her
wild, slightly mossy tongue.
~
Does the hummingbird think he himself invented his crimson throat?
He is wiser than that I think.

A dog lives fifteen years, if you're lucky.

Do the cranes crying out in the high clouds
think it is all their own music?

A dog comes to you and lives with you in your house, but you
do not therefore own her, as you do not own the rain, or the
trees, or the laws which pertain to them.

Does the bear wandering in the autumn up the side of the hill
think all by herself she has imagined the refuge and the refreshment
of her long slumber?

A dog can never tell you what she knows from the
smells of the world, but you know, watching her, that you
know almost nothing.

Does the water snake with his backbone of diamonds think
the black tunnel on the bank of the pond is a palace
of his own making?
~
She roved ahead of me through the fields, yet would come back, or
wait for me, or be somewhere.

Now she is scattered in the stream and round the trees.

Nor will I argue it, or pray for anything but modesty, and
not to be angry.

Through the trees there is the sound of the winds, palavering.

The smell of the pines needles, what is it but a taste
of the infallible energies?

How strong was her dark body!
How apt is her resting place.
~
Finally,
the slick mountains of love break
over us.



I moved to scatter Becky's ashes in the flowing waters of the stream, in the breath of the winds and in a circle around the trees. I sat a while, eyes closed, in complete gratitude and true amazement of our ten years in physical form together. What a blessed adventure. The best teacher ever, bar none! Long may it continue. We thanked the ancestors and spirits who came this night, father sky and mother earth. Not without getting a little directionally dyslexic on the way, still so much to learn and yet even now there is always a smile to be had. Last of all we left a small token for the woodland and all its creatures, an apple was placed in the centre of the nature alter. We then made our way through the darkness, slowly picking out a pathway back down the hill.

I'm reminded it is Samhain. In a couple of days, the eve of all hallows ... a magical time for the Celts who acknowledge it is the ending and beginning of their yearly cycle. Now we affirm rebirth in the midst of death and darkness. The dark is not to be feared, it is important to take time to rest, to journey, dream, explore the mysteries, communicate with our ancestors, seek our inner wisdom, incubate the seeds of our ideas and future potentials. Out of the darkness comes renewal and rebirth. This cycle means their are always new opportunities to start again. Embrace the light and the dark, accept they are both a much needed part of what makes us whole.#


* Apologies to Mary Oliver afficionados for the few words that have been changed to fit the occasion.
# From Glennie Kindred, The Earth Cycles of Celebration.

Ethical Ambition and Courageous Leadership

Richard Olivier is a highly skilled exponent of mythodrama. He uses this process as a means of exploring and understanding some of the most pressing themes and issues of our times. He writes, "using the adventure with Shakespeare’s Macbeth it is possible to live through this myth to learn for ourselves behaviours that make or break individuals and groups. Macbeth’s descent from fearless warrior to ruthless tyrant invites us to identify excessive and dangerous behaviours – both in ourselves and others. Prince Malcolm’s journey from runaway prince to steward king reveals the path to ethical leadership. Malcolm shows that we too can become generative leaders, creating meaning for ourselves and hope for our collective future.

I believe that a fundamentally important issue for all of us alive at this time is to discover our unique, appropriate level of ambition. We certainly need to figure out how to better manage the over-ambitious natures of the selfish few who get their kicks from power, prestige, obscene wealth and fame - but how are we going to ramp up the ambitions of the unselfish many who get kicked by power, outshone by prestige, outmaneuvered by wealth and outvoted by those in search of their 15 minutes? Surely we too need our version of worthy goals, ambitious targets, as yet unrealised dreams - and we need an ethical centre from which to operate, an internal "great bond" that keeps us pale not only in the face of obvious wrongdoing but also in the face of withdrawal and fearful submission. For all too many of the "good people" in the modern world it is not a case of too much, but too little too late. The great brains of the Oxford University James Martin 21st Century School contend that, given current trends of industrial waste, population growth and biological warfare potential, there is a high percentage probability that the human race will not survive the century we are living in. If we are to confound their predictions surely we must find a way to encourage apparently ordinary men and women to step up, to raise heads above the parapet, to find the niche, however seemingly narrow, where courage is called for and appropriate ambition required.

Imagining the future can make it real.

To attempt this, we need to expand our moral imaginations; the human race is capable of so much, has so much latent evolutionary potential to be stewards of the planet that sustains us, but so often we treat it as an object, something to be owned, mined and undermined, flown over until a volcano opens its mouth to decide otherwise. Great myths and inspiring stories can inform this expansion of our moral imagination, imagining the future can make it real ... The imagined can make it real, by stretching our own image of ourselves we can make it more likely to happen in reality.

So where is your ethical ambition, now? Is it well tended and watered? Is it starving for attention? What exactly are you doing with the garden that was entrusted to you? As poet David Whyte wisely asks "What shape waits in the seed of you to grow and spread its branches against a future sky?""

For more on ethical ambition and courageous leadership you can read the entire essay by Richard Olivier at http://www.findhorn.org/onlinecommunity/news/2010/05/the_myth_of_macbeth.php

Much loved, never forgotten.

Taliesin

There is a saying in Irish Gaelic, which when translated says, 'All things are connected by a thread of poetry'. The lifeforce or Dana, as they call it in Gaelic, is poetry. Writing poetry is a form of shape-shifting. Celts as poets understand each other. They may not appear to speak clearly or literally. In the way of Taliesin, Celts speak in riddles, in the language of the birds and of animals. We are reminded of Black Elk when he said, 'all things are alive and they want to communicate'. And as Keat's suggests 'we're here to make our soul.' And so it is the poet who knows how to capture the language and images of the lifeforce in all things. We learn to live with mystery and not get hung up on fact or reason.

She pointed up
At the night sky.
Can you see them,
Flying?
No, I replied.
You do believe me?, she asked.
Yes, I said.
And I did believe her
(I still couldn't see them).

A poet is a person who has visions. Who sees things that other people can't see. Some resist the idea that the poet is a mystic or visionary. What Taliesin did is identify with nature, by opening up to something that was always there and to the realisation that we are already connected to everything. The Celtic soul is not a soul trapped in a human body. The soul is free, it can wander, it can shape-shift. As Hildegard of Bingen said, 'just as the heart is hidden in the body, the body is hidden in the soul'. The Great Mother of life wants to enrich our souls. And the power of the soul reaches to the end of the earth ... in this way the earth is still reaching out towards its own creation. We're here to take the greatest stride our souls can take, which is to shape-shift, to realise the oneness of all things. We appear to be separate in order to make it through this physical world. Ego boundaries protect the body, but this only represents 10% of the soul, the other 90% of the soul is out there being a hawk, an oak tree, a raindrop. The goal of the 10% ego identified part of our souls is to realise it is one with all things, to become integrated with the other 90% of the soul. To become WHOLE.

"Sitting by a tree, near to a stone and next to a stream it was difficult to separate the three. They all called at once. I placed my attention on the stream and I imagined what is the stream? Is it the container, marked by the stream-bed and the banks. These connect to the soil, which connects to the rock and the tree and beyond. Is it the content, the continuous flowing fluidity of water, never still, always moving. The stream seems to have no boundaries; it is everything. I then realise I can fly about in something indescribable and to create awareness of a tree or rock. With the rock I could feel its ancientness, its age and I was aware it could seem dense and solid but it didn't need to be. I could pass through the rock and it could pass through me."

My home is my sanctuary.
It is my place of safety.
Where I belong.
Take this away and I can
Feel lost, I can struggle
To recognise myself. I
Lose my sense of stability.
In these times others,
Special people, have come
To remind me who
I am - Who see me.

Blink, I'm awake.
Not awakened.
Scared and alone.
Disconnected.
Heart racing, heat rising,
Mind swirling, fear driving
This ship bobbing
On turbulent seas,
Gripping tightly - I breathe!

Unseen and unseeable
To all but a few.
Tracks of fear
Circling around me
Tormenting my soul.
The warm winds gently
Tap on my shoulder,
I turn to follow
My path.

The Celts have a tradition of the great song. Your heart song is the idea of your thread, it's always there. Even though there are times when you might not see it, it's always there. Remember all things are connected by a thread of poetry.

Joy is speaking my truth.
Sorrow is not speaking up loud enough, saying NO and meaning it!
Peace is being heard.

"The song of peace comes from my heart. It is open and expansive, it lightens and relaxs everything around me like a beautiful lullaby. I can go into a place of intimate togetherness with love. I'm in a relaxed place of feeling, wanting to be there and wanting to share. I feel the tension and anxiety releasing from my back. In peace everything will be ok."

Be brave
Choose joy
Know sorrow
Find peace.

I can fly
Not as you might imagine
I forgot how for a long time
I can fly
It's time to lift myself
Up, be joyful
Ease back
Take flight
And spread my wings.

In the words of Taliesin from the Hostile Confederacy ...

I am Taliesin
And I defend the true lineage
Until the end of time.
I know when the spark of hardness works from the stones.
I know the end of the dawn.
I know what made enduring patience when the sky was raised.
I know why a hill resounds.
I know why the silver vault was knitted.
I know why the valley is radiant.
I know what name of two words will never be taken from the cauldron.
I know the four elements but there end is not known to me.
I have been dead, I have been alive.
I am Taliesin
And I defend the true lineage
Until the end of time.

# Acknowledgement to the shamanic teachings of Tom Cowan 2-5 September 2010 at Cae Mabon, North Wales.

What's it all about?

Now do come on people...
you all know that I'm a gentle subtle soul
who likes nothing more than tea, biscuits, slippers
and a bit of yoghurt weaving to send me to sleep.

But sometimes I have to let the bulldozer out.
I hear the diatribe of complaint about current times
and those to come, but come on....

What do you think you are really doing down here?
Do you remember why you volunteered to come here in the first place?

You are all specialists in your own field
who through the necessity and trauma of birth
have forgotten why you're here.

This is the most compressed time of human history,
we are on the point of a consciousness breakthrough
never seen before but imagined,
and we have the privilege of seeing the revelation.

And compared to the gargantuan developments of recent months,
the coming few months are a piece of cake -
it's just that they'll be typified by metaphorical actions
involving lasers and scalpels as opposed to the lump hammers
and cudgels of recent months.

It's time to start getting specific.

Never forget - you were born for this, this is why you're here.
And as the genetic time bombs encoded in our DNA begin to explode,
so memory and purpose return.

We are here to facilitate an acceleration and transmutation
of global consciousness and awareness,
nothing more and nothing less.

So you can either act, or react.

.... Steve Judd ....

Touched by an Angel

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

- Maya Angelou -

Be true to yourself

Are you breathing just a little

Are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?*
Who are you kidding? Not me!
You, breathe a little, no way.
There is not one fibre of your being
that does not live life to the fullest.
You reach out everyday with hope, faith and love.
I’ve seen it for myself.
Don’t go trying to convince me or yourself
That you do anything other than try your best.
Remember your best is more than enough.
There are times when life may appear to be
harsh, unrelenting, confusing and uncertain.
Be gentler, more compassionate with yourself.
Nurture and be nurtured on your journey.

It may well feel like a roller-coaster ride.
We are all on it waving our hands in the air,
Feeling the elements rushing by,
Catching the sideways glances of those around,
Wondering what’s happening over there?
Knowing there is no over there.
It’s all here.
It's all now.
Keep it simple, place your attention on where you
want to be, look up and step into the moment,
Your moment and live it the only way you know how.
Be the happiest you can be and watch the waves of
your smile expand into the never-ending spaciousness
of forever.

* The opening question is a line taken from the poem 'Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches?' by Mary Oliver.

What is woman's place ... ?

Paul Cezanne, Les Grandes Baigneuses (Bathers) National Gallery, London.

In the introduction to the book 'The Heroine's Journey' by Maureen Murdock, she asks the question: "What is woman's place at this stage of our cultural development?" and this is her response, "I feel strongly that it is to heal the split that tells us that our knowings, wishes, and desires are not as important nor as valid as those of the dominant male culture. Our task is to heal the internal split that tells us to override the feelings, intuition, and dream images that inform us of the truth of life. We must have the courage to live with paradox, the strength to hold the tension of not knowing the answers, and the willingness to listen to our inner wisdom and the wisdom of the planet, which begs for change.

The heroine must become a spiritual warrior. This demands she learn the delicate art of balance and have the patience for the slow, subtle integration of the feminine and the masculine aspects of herself. She first hungers to lose her feminine self and to merge with the masculine, and once she has done this, she begins to realise that this is neither the answer nor the end. She must not discard nor give up what she has learned throughout her heroic quest, but learn to view her hard-earned skills and success not so much as the goal but as one part of the entire journey. She will then begin to use these skills to work toward the larger quest of bringing people together, rather than for her own individual gain. This is the sacred marriage of the feminine and the masculine - when a woman can truly serve not only the needs of others but can value and be responsive to her own needs as well. This focus on integration and the resulting awareness of interdependence is necessary for each one of us at this time, as we work together to preserve the balance of life on earth."

Murdock, M (1990) The Heroine's Journey, Shambhala, London, pp.11-12.

An ancient way of knowing

The final paragraph of Robert Wolff's thought provoking book 'Original Wisdom' gives me hope ... "All who are in touch with the natural world can sense energies, emotions, and intentions of people and animals. If we listen, we can know - all we need to do is give up being in charge. Knowing inside is not something unusual; it is how we are. All humans can have that connection with All-That-Is. The connection is within us." (p.197)

Love the Mystery

Steve Judd I like the way you roll ...

In today's blog entry by the UK astrologer Steve Judd he says this about the impending Grand Cross that has been so much talked about... "In less than twenty four hours, Venus moves into Libra, the Moon moves into Cancer and the much heralded Grand Cross will be upon us. Despite being a long term proponent of these times, I feel delightfully ambivalent and surprisingly clear. Because of this, my shields are coming down ... on the eve of the Grand Cross, I pronounce thus: ''Oi!!! You Lot!!! Will you stop Looking for someone else to Blame! No Gods, no Leaders, No Gurus, No Masters. On Behalf of the Assembled Hosts of Discordia, we command the following: That from this moment on, your only real purpose in life is to be as happy as you can, at all times and in all circumstances, and to live in the moment to the fullest of your experience. Now get on with it.'" If you would like to read more click on http://www.stevejudd.com/

U R the E in my E=MC²

U R the sunshine that starts my everyday
U R the one that says, 'Lets go out and PLAY'
U R the most beautiful creature I ever did meet
U R the one that makes my heart skip a beat

U R a glistening rainbow that contains no grey
U R the Omega3 that makes my ADHD go away
U R a kaleidoscope of wonderful delights
U R the one I want to cuddle up 2 at night

A love poem found this morning pinned to a tree,
by Orlando 4 Rosalind.