A Soggy Solstice

Rain seems to be a theme of this winter – one I should be used to by now! I spent last week in the Lake District with family, where given the forecast we did well to manage a number of sunny walks and had high enough cloud cover to get a view from both of the hills we managed to walk up. Mainly we explored the valleys though, to see waterfalls. However, after a beautiful sunrise on 21st December, it was still disappointing to have a very soggy dark morning on the 22nd.

For the solstice itself, I like to have a special dinner the preceding evening, Celtic festivals usually being celebrated from sundown to sundown, then wake up for the sunrise (easier than the exact solstice moment which this year was around ten to five am UK time), followed by breakfast and sharing presents. This year with us being in the North, and waking up early, we had breakfast first and then a walk up the hill behind the house we were staying in to try and see the sunrise. It was raining, the ground was waterlogged, the sky was grey. A slight lightening in the South East was all the evidence we could see of day breaking. The next day there was of course a beautiful sunrise again…

However I learned some things on our extended walk in the rain that morning that have stayed with me. There was yet another storm, Eva, forecast for the Christmas weekend. As a follow on from my weather post of two weeks ago, I can report that I have managed to increase my consciousness from a five to a ten mile radius circle of where I am, although I am finding it incredibly difficult to go beyond that – or to know how large changes to weather systems can be made such as seems to be needed at present. But I did manage to journey one morning and had a brief conversation with the approaching storm.

I asked if it could tell me what its purpose and intention was, and if there was some way the effects could be mitigated. The answer I received was to promote cooperation! I couldn’t see how that fitted in with anything a storm might do, until I looked around me. I was staying in a village that had been badly flooded by Storm Desmond, several businesses suffering millions of pounds worth of damage, one road bridge remaining out of action with a two mile diversion in place, two other road bridges and a footbridge now reopened but with damage clearly visible. But as more rain threatened, everyone was actively clearing drains, putting up boards and sandbags, and yes, working together. I asked this latest storm if it could avoid causing more damage to those who had already suffered. On my return, this appears to be largely the case, only there is massive flooding and damage in Lancashire and Yorkshire instead – yes promoting cooperative working and huge levels of assistance, but also creating much personal tragedy at the same time. As I have said before, it needs more people than me to work with the weather, probably many more people, and some rituals and offerings to change the cycle of weather that has been created. It may take time and effort, but what is cooperation if not working together and working with our planet Earth and her weather systems, with love?

So that was the message of my solstice – we can expect more rain, and need to work together at all levels if we want to see more balanced weather returning.

Advertisements

Flooding

Once upon a time the land flooded. Luckily Noah and his family built an ark to take two of each kind of animal, and after forty days of floodwaters the dove managed to return with an olive branch. A rainbow symbolised that God would never flood the land again. That is roughly the story I was taught at school, and in recent years I have come to realise that most of it is true overlooking a few minor details. Except the story misses out one vital part – that we had to look after the Earth in order for ‘God’ to keep his or her part of the promise.

I have been feeling the shock of the devastation in the Lake District this week. It is an area I know well as a walker and canoeist, and in the past I have paddled many rivers when they are above ‘normal’ levels. Some rivers are only paddleable in ‘spate’ conditions, particularly higher up in the hills. But there comes a limit when nature takes over and reminds us of our insignificance. Trees are uprooted, whole sides of hills are washed down into the valleys. Man and all his construction efforts are simply swept aside. A few inches of rain spread over a wide area are usually enough to fill a river, but with Storm Desmond records were broken – 13.5” of rain in Honister Pass in 24 hours, or 16” in Thirlmere over 48 hours, after a cloud simply got stuck in one place. This is after minor floods just three weeks earlier when 6” inches of rain fell in Cumbria.

We can bemoan the fact that houses and tarmac cover too much land with most of the run-off going straight into our overworked drains. That there is deforestation at every level from the tops of the hills to the bottoms of the valleys. That the natural flows of our rivers have been interfered with to enable building on flood plains. That flood defences built in an effort to ‘cure’ the ‘problem’ of flooding meet with variable success – the water has to go somewhere, and the further downstream it gets before spilling onto the land, the worse the damage tends to be. But moaning cures nothing; these will take years to correct, even if we start today.

However these floods have been a wake-up call to me personally because there is one thing left we can do, and that is to consciously work with the weather. For over a year now, (since September 2014, see blog post on Weather, October 2014) I have not sought to change the weather for any personal desires, but tried to work with the rainfall to keep a balance. (Water being the element I am closest to; I am rather less successful at working with fire!) As I mentioned a few weeks ago, there have been no droughts and no floods in my area since that date. But when I was first asked to do this work, I was also told to gradually expand my consciousness. I haven’t done that yet – and for that I feel responsible.

Could I have averted these floods? Can I even expand as far as Cumbria, or Northumberland, or East Anglia, or Wales, or Somerset, or other places around this small island I live on, that are so out of balance devastating floods occur at regular intervals? I’m not ‘God’ in any traditional sense, I only work with the weather as a co-creator. If floods are needed for some reason, there is nothing that I alone could do to prevent them. But I can try. And by writing this I hope to encourage other people to work with the weather as well. Find your element. Winds can move storms. Fire can change rain to snow and back again. Earth can move mountains, or hold firm as needed. And if you need any reason for doing it, then I can report that it is the best cure for homesickness that I have found.

Hello 2015

I would say Happy New Year, as so many people have said to me in the last few days, but I celebrated the year turning at Samhain, and again at the winter solstice. So instead I will say welcome to 2015, in the belief that this year promises even more good things than the last one.

I prefer to look forward rather than back, and I spend more time making future plans than reminiscing or worrying about what has gone. If it is true that we get what we focus on, then this seems a good way to be to me! However this is not because I am trying to cut out or ignore the negatives in my life, but part of how I overcame illness. My road back to health that started five years ago included setting myself a target for each day, however small, that I could achieve and feel like I had done something. Some targets were physical, such as going for a walk every day and slowly increasing from half a mile to managing three miles in under an hour. Some were creative, where at the end of it I had something in front of me I could see I had managed to do. It made me feel more worthwhile – and still does, for if I have nothing I am trying to achieve I feel lost.

After various thoughts about new projects to tackle, I made some promises to myself at the solstice. I share them here in the continued expectation that what is written down is more likely to happen than what is kept to myself!

Sewing – I have started making a quilt of the map where Winnie the Pooh lives, to hang on the wall where the poster of the same picture keeps falling off. (The radiator underneath melts the white-tack sticking it to the wall.) M is being her most helpful ever and loves seeing all the green background pieces being cut out and laid out in position, which is just as well since lack of space means I have to put them on the floor!

Stained Glass – I have drawn out one stained glass design for some door panels for an internal door, and have a front door and window panels to draw in the coming weeks. It would be great to get them all made this year…

Bodhran playing – when I wanted a drum for journeying, I bought a bodhran because I loved the sound and it felt right at the time. Now (nearly three years on) I want to learn to play it properly, so that I can use it for both and be more relaxed when I play it.

Working with elementals in the garden – I have no idea how to proceed with this one yet; drumming might be involved at least in the first instance. It feels important to me to try, however long it takes.

Climbing the ‘Wainwrights’ – the Munros always intrigued me in Scotland, and I have climbed about ten, but mostly they are too big, too demanding, and too far away. Also the list changes from time to time. I was in the Lake District for Yule, an area which I love and have walked and canoed there over many years, both solo and with family. This was the first time I had come across the concept of completing all the ‘Wainwrights’, which are all the fells AR Wainwright detailed in his books in the 1950s. They have the advantages of being a fixed list of 214 fells, some are small, and given it was his personal choice to include them, they all have some feature of interest. I would love to start from scratch and see if I can do them all in, say, thirty years. However I plan to start with the hundred and sixty-odd I haven’t yet climbed and see how I go. If nothing else, it is the best excuse I’ve come up with so far to ensure I get to Cumbria at some point each year!

Section of the Soca gorge, taken from footbridge. (German paddler.)

Section of the Soca gorge, taken from footbridge. (German paddler.)

Swimming in Dunnerdale – because it looks amazing. Paddling the Soca gorge took me eight years from seeing a photo to being there – and was every bit as wonderful as I hoped it would be (see the photo!) Swimming under Birks Bridge might take me as long before M is ready and the weather is right, but I’m hoping that is an outside time limit!

Given that dreams posted here have a habit of coming true, feel free to add yours in a comment below!