I have been preoccupied with thoughts about place and heritage and Ye Olde Ways. As I've been moved by the voices and spirits of this place, this earth, I've been taking more generalised, 'core' philosophies and translating them into my spirit's native tongue. This has been and continues to be a profound experience and more enriching then I'd imagined it would be but one thing is clear: I am not comfortable with historical re-enactment.
Despite the fact that it turns out I stand willingly in the land of druidry and pagan ways, I'm not ever going to be the sort of person who dons a long velvet gown, changes my name to Morgana and weaves ivy into my hair. I love that there are people who do that and am grateful they are there, but I'm not one of them. I've been feeling strongly pulled to find a way to bring the voices of the land and those who live on it - be it rural, urban or neither - to the here and now. We need to listen to and learn from them more than ever. They are as strong and relevant as ever, we just forget - at huge cost - to listen.
This winter has been, as I've said before, a very different experience for me because I just went with it. I listened in the dark, rested, dreamed and prepared and I was rewarded with a new vision and a deeper connection. As spring arrives with light, growth and an urge to build, I want to bring what I've learned into my daily life. A life here in 2014 with cars and computers and, for me, a day job, school runs and homework, bank statements and all the stuff we've constructed to make our life easier but which actually sometimes makes it harder. I want to find a way to share what I'm learning in a way that fits. These things are timeless and eternal. They belong here and now. I don't want to have to pretend to be living in some other age, I like this one. I believe in this one. I feel these spirits and their power here and now.
So I've been trying to carve out space in which to sit and think and feel my way to hearing how the sacred sounds to me in 2014. I've asked for hints and ideas, and received some too. But nothing as clear, ironically, as the fog that descended over our home this last couple of days. I mean, it's all well and good trying to avoid fairy tale romanticism but then, sitting in my car on the way back from dropping Evie at school, 110 yards from my door, I find myself looking at this through my windscreen. And suddenly fairy tale romanticism is very much a part of the here and now. To be continued..