living in the forest

through every window i see the forest....and it sees me
the house faces east and west...its in a valley that runs north to south...
how different that is...
how aware of the day passing i am...from the early first light that i see bringing the forest in front of the house alive as i make my tea...tea to be drunk in bed with the forest in front of me...then down to the table where i sit at the computer....more tea as the sun reaches the deck and the still beautiful meadow....the stargazer becomes the sun worshiper



note : guess what i posted this to the wrong blog...should have gone on summerland...
well now its on both
sally x

Spirals and Labyrinths

Labyrinth:
Is a journey to the centre of self - there is one way in and out
we use our right brains to enter and intuitively, creatively, simply follow,
leaving logic, analysis and left brain aside
bypassing ego and seeking the deeper truths within
passively accepting, clearing, meditating, returning, reflecting.
Sacred labyrinth geometry surrounds,reminds and holds us
in ammonites, in spider's web, in the glorious unfolding of a fern,
it is ancient and universal combining spiral and circle,
a path through the sacred dance of life.

What ever meditation tools we use, all help to get to the heart of the matter and for me sometimes "the passing cloud" or "walking meditation" is a natural labyrinth/spiral - a jasmine or bean curling around a support can bring revelation without the inner struggle or conflict - I find this a much softer method of sorting my head out than the horrors of self analysis and beating yourself up!

This describes how I feel about labyrinth but/and (as with everything) there's loads of info on line - great books about them too I like - "Walking the Healing Labyrinth" by Helen Raphael Sands ISBN1-85675-230-5 (she also teaches circle dancing)

Lindsey

the images are of a spiral of bark...found by Phillip....photographed by Ian ...something i thought of when i saw Lindsey's first pot and Sheila's Log Vessel that were posted earlier

to me another example of the gift of ideas and images exchanged
Sally

Tree of Peace

Phillip and I have been painting
a painting for the next Celtic Year exhibition....starts 7th of November at the Garden Cafe...more about that soon



even though it was raining...we had fun...



and here is our 'Tree of Peace'

First Pot...

Thought I could post my pot on the blog (if that's still legal) - I've almost finished the performance piece and will send that on soon.

This is the first ceramic pot I have made and although there are loads of technical faults I love it. Hope you all are planning festivities for Samhain!

Lindsey X

Log Vessel

a warm welcome to Sheila
a new contributor to the Celtic Year...Sheila has send this pic of the beautiful embroidered vessel she made...inspired by a log in the garden....i have asked her how she made it...but it looks like felt to me...and we do so like felt here at the CYP don't we?

Bridget's September

Hi all,

as per my previous posting, below is Bridget's 'September' poem.

SEPTEMBER

The Equinox marks a turning point.

September prepares for the Grand Finale,

Welcoming Autumn with strains of 'Rule Britannia'.

Bonfire smoke ascends perfumed with remnants of Summer,

Incense from a mighty Thurible.

The sun lends a golden sheen then

Paints the evening sky with sunsets.

Trees start to shut down withdrawing chlorophyll,

Enabling leaves to show colours kept secret all summer.

Birds recovered from nesting resume their songs.

Spiders spin webs and prickly gorse is softened with gossamer.

Michaelmas Daisies (Denominated to 'Asters')

Offer Bees and Butterflies a last banquet before winter.

Farmers have reclaimed the earth

Slicing the fields with ploughs and planting in anticipation.

Bits of nut shell mark the path of squirrels stripping hazel trees,

Eating some and storing for lean times ahead.

Already catkins are in place

Nature's assurance of another Spring to come.

Great.

I love the concept of the trees keeping colours secret during the summer.

Bridget has set herself the task of writing something about each month this year, and says:

'it has been interesting as I've noticed things I've missed in other yearsbeen writing a different poem for each month of the year. I'm not even sure I would call it poetry but I have enjoyed playing with it so I enclose bits for August and September. I had a 'feel' about Lammas and the Autumn Equinox'

Reads like poetry to me!!

Fi

xx

From Bridget

Hi,

the following is a poem written by Bridget who came to our Words & Ideas event at the Coleford Festival and was inspired by it ... she doesn't have internet access so has sent this and another poem to post onto the blog. So, here's ...

LAMMAS
Great Fire Festival of Summer's height

AUGUST

Gone are days when wheat

Toppled to the swish of sickle and scythe,

Then man carted it to threshing floors.

Mechanical giants

Have roamed fields

Cutting and separating

Grain from straw,

Leaving little harvest

For birds and beasts.

Earth, now unencumbered

By lineal plantings,

Glories in warmth and

Rain's replenishing power.

Plants made dormant,

Deprived of space

By man's cultivation,

Start to grow

As Nature intended.

Badger, Fox and Deer are

No longer impeded,

Hares roam free,

Their joy reflected

By leaps and dances

In the Moonshine.

Perseus joins in

Lightning night skies

With shooting stars.

This from a lady who has very little confidence in her writing!

Fi

xx

Central Reservation

The dead pigeon’s bloated body slowly glues itself to the tarmac
It’s faded grey white wing waves a mock welcome
at the lone trainer,
At the almost passing traffic.
Where are the one legged runners?

Traffic shuffles, one gear, two gears, stop.

The blue bottle
Lid
Has lost its bottle
Flung aside
Trapped in the central reservation
Companion to crushed cigarette packet,
Bearing unheeded warnings of a more permanent trap

Clutch up, clutch down, stop.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s has nothing on this
Bright Red Bull energy can.
[But it can’t]
Banana skin, brown flesh oozing, skin blackening
Another water bottle; yellow brown contents tell a desperate tale

Amber, green, red; stop.

Cardboard box
Coffin
Intact
Survived the fall, to stand curious in the wrong place

Second, third, fourth, third, stop.

Manually, Haynes has left
Torn cover behind
Feelings of frustration
A link to the broken red light cowl, the fag ends, the bottle?

Beeeep, first, second, cruise and stop.

Red brick peace
Corners smoothed by time.
How long does it take for our rough edges to leave?
Derby Rams logo blazes the red ball,
Abandoned, left to relegation limbo

Third, fourth, green, go, go, go!
Central reservation blurs, the stories hidden once more.

LizBeth Wilson

Sept 30th 2009


a poem written by Liz who said this about it...
It's not particularly related to Samhain, more a comment on time passing and how we only notice the small things when we are forced to stop.
I liked the idea of thousands of untold tales hiding in the central reservation; trapped because they can't be reached.
This hit home with the discovery of a murdered young woman's bones being found in a bin bag after 13 years on a motorway, just a few days after i wrote this poem.
I also like the whimsical in it and the random thoughts we all have in similar situations.
I wrote this stuck in traffic on the A52 into Derby.

Thirteen moons and two rivers

oh I really really should be painting meadows and forests for the AAF later this month....but I had a vivid dream about the thirteen moons of the Celtic Year....here they are between the two rivers.

This is a bit early for Samhain but my plan is to write something to go with it for the next Celtic Year exhibition....that's the Garden Cafe from 7^th November to 5^th December 2009.
Please get in touch if you have any contributions.

Sally

update...this is making me sad for the moon