My past life
Cad Goddeu ( Battle of the trees)
It was the talented writer Sophie Strand who introduced to me the epic welsh poem Cad Goddeu where the magician Gwydion evoked the trees to become his army. Quite often I have both Merlin and Tolkiens Tom Bombadil on my mind , I know not why but they seem come into my stream of consciousness. Even though the names have been introduced by different people over long period of time I see them all as timeless singular expression of the magic of the land and beyond into the universe.
Within the poem lies magic as it in my opinion it can be the past but why not the future as well. The poem helps me understand my deep affinity and roots with the beautiful isle of Albion. As I wander in the woods and across the moor there is an energy which I cannot fathom, something timeless and all knowing.
I thought it would be fun for anyone reading this that they also could create their own poem and it could include like mine including an evolving future , maybe evoking the trees to arise once again to protect our land.
I have been a chasm of fire and molten rock waiting possibilities of life.
I have been an array of falling meteorite’s bringing life from the unknown
I was the fish who climbed onto the land
I have been the first breath and the first rain drop
I was a hawthorn tree bent over for ever lasting years waiting for spring to return.
I was the thunderous clashing of tectonic plates making mountains
I was enchanted by the Alder to create streams tumbling down mountains
I have been a worm endlessly churning the soil before I became soil itself
I was the seed which survived the ice age
I have been a Glacier for hundred million years forging valleys
I was the snake which enriched the human soul with knowledge
along with the nomadic Deer wandering the vastness of the boreal forest and the
Beaver creating the shapes of rivers
For aeons I was a giant who became the heart of Albion.
I have been the bird song twisting its way through the trees
I have sat and sung with the plants until they found their flower
I have been a network of mycelium teaching the earth of its voice
I have been wandering as a poet since the beginning of time
Nature knows me and I know nature
I will become the enchanter
the magic which enlightens our hearts
My song will be known
My shape will be all that I have been.
Bull Crag Peninsular
It was a magical morning and this being my first visit when it has been misty and the energy of the place was like a “deja vu” of something deep in my past. Everything was damp bringing out saturated autumn colours and deepening the contrasts of earthy browns, i was home at last.
my expectations low as logic of whats beautiful doesn’t include the dying but everything was joy , a twig on the floor looked as wonderful as the multitudes of mushrooms.
It is your inner world and your heart which sees the world around. It is our heart which creates the joy of seeing plants falling back to earth as wondrous as when in flower.
Letting go of what is perceived as beautiful by society awakens your heart to see more.
I am sure that the mushrooms knew I was coming and the mist would not put me off. What an amazing design of nature to extend the food to where it’s needed after the berries are exhausted. I am always curious about where these delights pop up from the underworld to have a look around. Intrigued by the consciousness of how the mycelium decides who needs it more and where.
The Birch tree leafs pepper the landscape with their array of mottled colours and I want to photograph each one. Some went into my bag to end up on a painting and I was so smitten with them my ideas of nature assemblies return with vigour.
Certain blessed blackberry leaves shout out in the midst of a compassionate mess of brambles. Don’t forget us yet and as they are as tough as Arnie. “I’ll be back “
Although there is a memory of a time when these plants stood in their prime full of vitality and eager to shout their name to creatures to reciprocate but there is something devine about this time , a hidden message or teaching it wants you to know. You have to sit with it and it will whisper into your ear,
The little jewels of heather still beckon me during my walk through the Peninsular and I have to bow to them each time.
Bakethin Nature Reserve
The mist had lifted before I arrived and was tipping the tops of trees for a wee while before the sun retuned to play havoc with my camera settings but the view evokes gratefulness and the words “ Look where I live “
An Ode to the gentle kings of the forest , home to the faeries and pixies , an earthly delight, that we too are fruiting bodies of consciousness, food for the gods and their children, full of mystery and magic and the essence of spirit and light.
The day was filled with “come to me and look , show me to your world” . These are my friends and family and for this month it is time to honour them by showing their beauty as they pass into slumber.
And finally knowing that we follow our own path and we decide the cadence which our soul works to. That not fitting in, is a blessing and if you're doing purple when everyone else is doing Autumn then follow your path.
Hareshaw Linn
This was another day where I began my wanderings in doubt of capturing enough for my postings. At this time of year the energy shifts down into serenity and it’s our time to replicate this. Slowness finds the heart beat, gratefulness is being present with life without judgement : there is no need to complicate life.
Let be the spring and the summer , Let be the winter to pass , There is nothing to do or to fix but relax and settle the mind with the cold breath of autumn.
Hawthorn has deepened from bright red to a dark crimson and the wild rose hips deflate with grace whilst the elderberry turns into little raisons defiantly hanging onto the tree inviting they are sill worthy of a bite.
Popping up in secret locations are delicate mushrooms , this is a private membership they are quick to tell but with kindness allow my photograph.
Those russet browns invite me but it is the intricacies of twigs and speckled leaves which evoke a yearning.
