Trust

Rosa 'Graham Thomas' in the snow

Rosa ‘Graham Thomas’ in the snow


The snowstorms have continued, giving me an interesting lesson in trust this week. I was one of a group of parents and toddlers looking out at the snow falling while we ate our lunch. The really big, soft flakes that don’t take long to cover the ground – although in this instance the temperature was still above freezing so it was only dry and raised areas that were turning properly white. However I was struck by the contrast in attitudes between the various people present.

Two mothers spent the whole of lunch checking their mobiles at increasingly short intervals, getting more and more worried about the snow. One then received a photo showing a white house, and they both left in opposite directions as quickly as they could get their children dressed – trying hard to persuade another couple to do the same. The rest of us stayed (the couple, one other mother and myself), enjoyed our lunch and the singing / storytime that followed, and then drove home not in the snowstorm but in glorious sunshine. The roads were completely clear, the verges and countryside covered by a fresh white blanket, and it was beautiful out.

An obvious answer to why we made different choices might be that the two who left lived in places that were more likely to get blocked up by snow. Protective instinct for our children also has a large part to play. I am not criticising those who left – if instinct tells you to get home, then that is what you should do. (Although distinguishing between fear and instinct can take some practice.) What I am more interested in is why some of us stayed, and what it came down to was two things – flexibility and trust. Flexibility to make alternative arrangements if necessary, such as parking somewhere safe and walking a short distance, and trust in ourselves that we could cope with a problem and with life not going quite to plan. This seemed to me a good way of being, that those of us remaining all had a belief in ourselves and in general followed life’s flow without thinking too hard about it.

As an animist pagan, I see everything being connected through spirit and everything being divine as a result of containing spirit, and that includes us. The first step for many might be to put faith in some source outside themselves – as indeed it was for me several years ago when it was suggested I let Brigid drive my car. (I don’t enjoy driving and was getting very stressed by the traffic.) Somehow I found the faith to try it, and had little whisperings all the way home down the motorway, when to change lanes and when not to. But later when I saw the divine in everything, I realised the divine was in me equally, and I have learned to have faith and trust in myself.

I had one additional area of trust however. I have written before about my workings with weather, and how I was asked to help keep the balance for my local area. After more snow was forecast this week, and hurricane Juno was threatening New York, I did a meditation on what the weather was up to locally and whether any action or changes were required. I came to understand that the cold and the snow were very much both needed, but with my communications it felt gentler. I felt that I was now working with the weather to a small degree, co-creating as it were, and I could trust it not to put me or my family in danger just like I could trust myself not to put me deliberately in a situation I wasn’t comfortable with.

Advertisements

Animism

I have for some years thought of myself as an animist, that is one who sees everything as being conscious and connected to Spirit. You, me, animals, plants, rocks, weather, all is conscious and all responds to us if we take the time to notice or to communicate. However it is one thing to agree with an idea, another to really connect with everything around me on equal terms.

The first ‘object’ I remember having a strong relationship with, after the usual childhood dolls and soft toys, was my bicycle. I rode a Claude Butler Mistral for nearly ten years, covering many thousands of miles to school or college, many of which were on my own. I used to talk to it, treat it as as partner on the eight mile journey home each day. After a while it started answering me back. Ringing its bell when there was someone behind me, getting fewer punctures or mechanical failures as it got older and I encouraged it more and more. I was quite sad when it had to be retired after a pothole incident in which I took flying lessons. I am still building a relationship with my Orbit Gold Medal that replaced it, though again find that the more it is encouraged and talked to the more the tyres stay hard, the chain rides without jumping, and the bike gets me to where I want to be without difficulty.

Houses are said to stay up better if they are lived in. The usual assumption is, I believe, that having someone there all the time means that problems can be spotted and sorted out while they are small. However I now think it is because a loved house will look after its occupants and not disintegrate as readily as one that is neglected and sad. I have been trying to connect to our house quite a bit recently, as we try to complete our slightly stalled building projects, and am finding it very rewarding. The colours I want to add seem to become richer, more vibrant. The place feels happier. Things happen.

Communicating with plants came relatively late to me, long after bicycles anyway, mainly because it never occurred to me it was possible. The more I understand the particular nature of a species, and love it for all of its qualities, the easier it seems to be to attune to it. Oak I connected to the first time I tried, along with several others that I have played around since childhood; Yew took me a long time and took me on quite a journey to really understand it and the great age to which it can live (thousands of years, not hundreds as was commonly believed). I still find it easier to connect to mature trees than younger ones, sometimes it feels like talking to children or teenagers when in a newly planted woodland! But I have found that once a connection is made with a particular tree or species it is much easier to reconnect on future occasions. It is like greeting a friend.

I have learned a lot about weather in recent years, and have had proof on several occasions now that it is conscious. One day I may write more, but the time doesn’t feel right yet; however there are many traditions around the world where the shaman’s job was to work with the weather in order to help keep the balance in the local area. I am now trying to do this in my small corner of Derbyshire.

However, watching M I now realise how little I really know about connecting to all things. She has learned that we wave to people when we say goodbye, and copies this. However she doesn’t often wave to people, it is more likely to be to the dogs we pass. Or rubbish that I don’t want her to touch. A playground we have been at, or bench we have sat on. More recently a single leaf or a feather she has picked up and looked at gets waved goodbye to before we can continue our walk. Even the sunrise she has been watching will get a wave before she turns around. In short, anything she has made a connection with is honoured as a friend.

It may well be that she ceases to do this as she grows up and becomes more involved with the earthly plain, but they will always be there for her when she is ready. What a wonderful way to live life.