The first ones ‘hatched’ after 2 weeks, with more emerging each day over the next week and creating a very dark mass of wrigglers in the centre of the two clumps of frogspawn. Finally they seem to have eaten the remains of their ‘egg sacks’ and the first ones broke free to pastures new, being seen around the plants and nibbling algae of rocks – particularly later in the day as the sun warms them. I may have a cleaner, clearer pond very soon!
We have finally reached the last of the ‘New Years’ for the winter – the one generally celebrated across the country! As a pagan I normally like to work with the rhythms of nature rather than an arbitrary date, so have celebrated a new year’s cycle beginning at the start of the dark at the Autumnal Equinox, the general Pagan new year at Samhain, and the return of the light at the Winter Solstice. And yet besides being the day we turn all the calendars over, 1st January probably has one of the strongest rituals I can think of associated with it as people who share the Gregorian Calendar all around the world make resolutions for the year ahead. To be part of a collective humanity is valuable – just like any shared activity, or shared and repeated ritual, the more often it is repeated the more the power within it can grow and be used positively.
The only reason for making new resolutions or promises that I can see is to shine a light onto my path ahead and see what I need to do or what choices I need to make about my direction. Last January I had a list of various specific things I wanted to achieve – sewing projects, glass, swimming, drumming etc – most of which has been written about here over the course of the year. It was helpful in focusing my mind when I was struggling to see what was important to me independently of the rest of my family.
Now I am noticing how the different areas of my life have become more interrelated as time goes on, one influencing another and all becoming part of a whole which is me moving closer to living in harmony with everything around me. I made a list of what I wanted to do, and achieve, and then realised that every single one of them depended on me finding quiet space and time to really connect at a deep level. Being out in nature walking, swimming or gardening; taking photographs; writing; carving wood; looking after M; creating a home… So for this year, I have just one resolution – which covers just about every area of my life:
I will take more time for meditation – to include attuning myself to what I am doing, just being, and learning to stay calm.
It is not as if I don’t meditate now; I do, at least once every day, although it is often quite short. But I have been thinking a lot recently about this quote by Saint Francis de Sales, a Swiss clergyman who lived 1567-1622:
“Half an hour’s meditation each day is essential, except when you are busy. Then a full hour is needed.”
The first time I read this I laughed, assuming either he was making a joke, or he was saying that we needed to cut back on some of what was filling the time up, that we were overdoing it. However as I looked at what changes I wanted to make in my life, I have seen that meditation is related in some way to all of them.
The first is simple. If I am too busy to meditate, I won’t get any answers from within and therefore will not move forwards – besides not reaching the still point of Just Being that is so valuable and only seem to comes when I have dealt with any pressing issues. I am finding that out of stillness arises creation.
After dwelling on this quote a little longer however, I started to see the idea of being busy and needing longer to meditate differently. There are always going to be more things I want or need to do than I can fit, because that is the way I am. If I don’t seem to be managing to do everything, meditating seems to help me focus on what is important and how to do it easier, and which things maybe I can leave out. A daily set time and place is difficult for me as it gets squeezed out too often, but when I don’t manage my ‘regular’ slot I need to make another space.
The second part is to make a more conscious effort to meditate in different places – attuning myself to the environment through meditation, either to make a connection with the environment, or as part of whatever work or craft I am doing. Outside before I begin gardening for example, if I am serious about wanting to work with the nature spirits in the garden. When working with glass to literally work with glass and be part of it, or with wood, or with anything else I wish to craft, such as I just discovered with the origami dragon and its bigger brother from red shiny wrapping paper that is now nestled in the tree. The whole process of creation changes and becomes bigger than just me.
Finally the third and fourth parts are related, as I have learned to ‘just be’ in some circumstances and not others. I know, this could take a lifetime or more to master! In the short term however, am hoping improved meditation can help me stay calm even when provoked, or that I can see alternative ways of handling difficult situations. Anger or frustration I see as emotions intended to force or inspire change so not negative in themselves, but they need channeling and directing and that, for me, starts with meditation. Or at least it will this year.
It has also been a very interesting experience having committed to writing weekly, as the writing itself has almost become a meditation exercise. While some weeks it has been clear to me exactly what I want to talk about, other times I have got to Saturday evening or even Sunday morning and still have no idea. However, in every case these have been the posts I personally have learned the most from because there always seems to be some subject hovering around the edges of my consciousness that needs bringing into the open and properly examining instead of shying away from. They are not always the stories that make me look good, and sometimes I have had to think quite hard about whether or how to share. Admittedly a few end up in my ‘unpublished blogs’ file, but the writing of them was still a valuable experience which wouldn’t have happened otherwise. I have learned an awful lot in this way, and I hope that by sharing more of my own stories other people have also found them helpful. Even this one – which has strayed a very long way from my original list I started a week ago!
This week I have been feeling sad as I say goodbye to a parent and toddler group I have been a member of almost since M was born. Now she is moving on to the next stage as she becomes more independent, and I find myself no longer belonging. It is not as if I will never see any of these people again, but we will meet at the gate as we collect our children, not spend a morning sitting, discussing, drinking herbal teas, and relaxing with no pressure from anyone to have to ‘be’ or ‘do’.
It is the first time in my life I have ever belonged to such a group of mutually supportive women. (Well, the occasional Dad has joined us…) It has been a very useful experience for me, as a socially awkward person, in learning how to talk to people beyond the initial meeting and discovering children are the only thing you have in common. I have watched others arrive stressed and leave happy; I have seen those who shy away from others and are easiest to engage in conversation in the garden; and watched those who ‘work’ the whole group every time they come and always make time for a chat with everyone present. Some even manage to do this smoothly and gracefully, excusing themselves politely to talk to another instead of breaking off mid-flow leaving me baffled by what I might have said to upset them. One or two simply bring an aura of calm with them, apparently needing no one but being generally friendly should anyone approach. The group often feels better just for their presence. And of course if any advice is needed, out of the 5-10 Mums present on any one day there will be someone who has experienced something similar.
However, I have become aware of how change seems to be allowed or even expected in children as they grow and develop, yet not in adults. Opinions are formed early on, and it can be hard to change these even if people have changed – as I would like to think I have. Yes, many people arrive stressed and a few months later turn into happy, relaxed, confident parents. But sometimes there is more than that. This has been a very formative time for me, continuing on from the previous few years of expanding my consciousness, and yet if I suggest I am not the same person I was 10 or 20 years ago, I am met with scepticism and non-belief. Luckily I have a few people I have known for many years who forgive my past mistakes and remain loyal, but I realise that in general it is easier to continue to change our friends to fit with who we are at each point in our development than it is to change our relationship with old friends. Moving on is required from time to time. To resist it would be the same as trying to resist any other change in our lives.
So I know it is the right thing to let go, and I feel confident that somehow, somewhere, I will meet a new group of people who fit with who I am going forwards from this point in time. (As well as those friends I will carry with me, or meet again at the school gate!) But I’m also realising I am glad that thanks to the approaching Winter Solstice I have a bit of time and space in the dark of the year before doing so, that I may properly acknowledge and mourn what has gone. Thanks to all you wonderful people who have given me an unconditional welcome, support and friendship over these early motherhood years. I’ll miss you!
I have a friend who is never ill no matter what bugs are going around the school where she works. It strikes me that she is totally in balance, in herself, in her environment. There is never any ‘dis-ease’ there to create ill health – and clearly nor did she choose to incarnate with any genetic disposition to ill health that she wished to learn from.
I, on the other hand, have learned much from illness and it has set me on the path I am on. Reading The Occult Diaries of R Ogilvie Crombie, it was interesting to see a parallel in his life. The heart condition he was born with altered the life he led, for example he never completed his science degree, and spent many years living in simplicity and solitude during WW2 and beyond, but ultimately allowed him to do his work in connecting with Nature Spirits. Sometimes having limitations was entirely necessary, such as the time when he left others to climb to the top of a mountain while he went for a swim in a pool and connected with the spirits of place there, a meeting that was essential to make certain connections had he but realised it beforehand.
Last week I became aware that I was picking up a lot of negativity from others, and not only reflecting it back and feeling I wasn’t being true to myself, but becoming affected inside over a couple of incidents. I meditated quite a bit on this and came to a realisation that some of the fault was mine for developing a habit of using slightly cynical humour to start a conversation. I remembered how as a regular train user in my late teens, it was really hard to talk to anyone until the train was delayed. Since at that time more trains were delayed than not, sometimes by several hours, I started a lot of conversations. I could also start conversations in a queue, or with the weather, or any adverse circumstances. ‘Beautiful day’ rarely seemed to get people talking in the same way!
So I realised I had to change. I had to clear the negativity on all levels, and try to cultivate a new, sunnier way of being with strangers, and also with people I see regularly that carry a black cloud on their shoulders. I don’t want to be that person any more, and neither do I want to return their negativity in any way.
Having made this decision, a day or so later I got the tummy bug that was going around here. As I am no stranger to tummy bugs having had a few from canoeing days in summer, I just resign myself to it, take the Arsenicum Album, drink lots of fluids, and luckily it didn’t last very long. A day later I am feeling fine again, and was surprised on this occasion when another friend said she thought being sick was far worse than a cold. I would be still suffering a week later from a cold, but realised on this occasion I felt better than I had before I got ill. Lighter, more energy, eyes wide open, happy. I was amazed! How could this be?
Then I realised – because I had released all the negativity. Would it have cleared so quickly had I not been ill I wonder?
(I’m glad to say I’m still feeling really good while writing this, over a week on…)
Our hall has been a ‘problem’ area ever since we moved in. Originally the walls and ceiling were all a cold turquoise blue, a colour which did nothing for me in the centre of the home. One of the first things I tried to do was to repaint it to something warmer and more neutral. As I have mentioned in these posts before, it did not go well. Trying to clean the old paint with sugar soap worked on the ceiling, which has been white for many years now, and on one side which was painted a soft yellow, but on the wall you see on entering through our double front door, much of the paint flaked off. In removing the remaining loose paint, half of the plaster fell off. The light fitting was unsafe so was removed, and the door frames have never fitted right so aren’t even worth painting. We have plans for a new front door which will be in keeping with the rest of the house, and which will allow us to restore the porch, but structural work is needed to the hall ceiling before this can be done. Since the hall impacts on every other room in the house, it either had to be done first or last – and the decision was made to do it last. So we have lived with this now for 18 years.
I have been doing some work on space clearing and bringing positive energies into the home, so I have been trying to look afresh at this area. It suddenly occurred to me that having a double door into the house was a major block on positive energy entering. There is no immediate way to remedy this – the inner door is an internal door and unable to be exposed to the elements, while the outer door is entirely glass so leaving the inner door open would render me immediately visible to anyone ringing the doorbell before I have even found the key. So after much thought, I decided to create something that would harmonise the spaces and link them together, flowing into the house and up the stairs. I also thought that something sparkly would act a bit like a mirror or crystal and magnify what energy there was. As it happens I had bought a pack of sparkle card in a sale a month ago, and also some glitter pens from the same sale…
I chose butterflies because they are light, gentle, and transformative. They bring beauty and joy, and their bright colours help to raise the vibration. The whole family helped to make them over a few days, and then I stuck them all over the area I wished to transform, with a few spilling over in different directions to the good parts of the house. I particularly wanted to put them on the ‘injured’ area however, the bare plaster, the cracks, the defunct light fittings, the door frames I wish to replace. May they be accepted as they are. Anything extra is a bonus.
Elder is now published on its own page, under Tree Stories or click here.Technically Elder, Sambucus nigra, should probably be a shrub rather than a tree. It does have a bole where the roots and branches meet but it scarcely has a trunk, its branches are hollow, and it is currently classified as being in the Adoxacae family along with Moschatel. (Previously it was with honeysuckle and snowberry in the dipsacale or teasel family.) However Elder towers over most other shrubs and grows to the size of a small tree, so in folklore it is a tree.
The name is thought to come from the Anglo-Saxon aeld, fire, as its hollow sticks were used for encouraging a good blaze. They also called it ellaern, meaning hollow tree. Other names include Ellhorn and Bour (pipe) tree.
Elders like to grow in full sun and will romp away in a hedge overshadowing the hawthorn, but are also frequently found in damp shady areas of woodland forming part of the understory. It has a very strong life force and great powers of regeneration, being quite hard to remove should you wish to. However not much will grow under it so it is difficult to place in a garden.
A wide range of wildlife lives off elderflowers and berries, hence it will often grow near rabbit or badger setts after they have helped the seed along its way. Caterpillars also like the foliage. Elderberries can be mildly toxic to humans unless cooked, particularly if still unripe. Medicinally, however Elder is a very valuable tree. The berries and also the bark were used as a purgative, for rheumatism, or for colds and flu or sore throats and for asthma; breathing through a hollowed out stick was also a remedy for asthma. The leaves are good for bruises, sprains and strains or chilblains, or for insect repellant as a bunch to keep flies out of the kitchen or off horses, or soaked and the liquid used on the human body against midges. The flowers are good as a tonic or for epilepsy or sinusitis.
Other uses from the tree include: berry juice as a blue or purple dye, or for making wine, pies, jams, vinegar, chutney; flowers for sparkling wine or cordial, or in salads or cakes; bark for black dye, leaves for green; sticks for blowpipes, whistles, pegs, skewers, or making small whittlings; and the pith for fishing floats or to hold samples on microscope slides. The wood polishes up well when the bark is removed, and the bole is very dense.
In folklore elder was inhabited by the Elder Tree Mother, Hylde-moer, who needed to be appeased before any part of the tree was cut. She would haunt any timber from the tree, not necessarily in a good way, so making furniture from it was generally avoided. Witches were said to be able to turn into elder trees at will. However as protection elder was apparently great for driving away evil spirits or witchcraft, so branches were hung over doorways and buried in graves. Flutes made from elder were used to summon spirits, while twigs woven into a headdress are said to enable the wearer to see spirits. Alternatively they will undo evil magic; a necklace made from elder beads can also be used for protection. To have a self sown elder tree near your house was regarded as particularly auspicious, and they were often planted by bake ovens to keep the devil away. Fairies are said to particularly like the music from elder pipes or flutes, but it is generally advised to avoid sleeping under an elder tree unless you wish to be taken by them. Food left under elder trees overnight will be considered to belong to the fae.
To me the elder is a tree I have always been a little ambivalent towards, and the many contradictions in its character and uses are possibly the reason why. However, I then found a transcript of a conversation between an elder tree interpreted by Verena Stael von Holstein, and Wolfgang Weirauch, which showed me how the strength and spiritual gifts of this species come from precisely this contradictory nature. The many connections the Elder has with spirits and otherworld beings may not be entirely coincidental. As a witches tree, it is without parallel.
Elder Tree: “For human beings there are various paths to seek initiation into the world of spirit: firstly through thinking, clarity of thought; then the path which corresponds more to me is a path rooted in one’s own culture. … On the one hand such a person needs to be formed in a relatively gnarled way, but on the other hand he needs an unimpeded lightness – as you find in my timber. From the outside my wood looks completely gnarled, but inside I am almost cotton-like. As trees we need a harder exterior form, but within I’m the opposite of heaviness: a matter that is almost dissolving. This shows I’m a kind of connecting radiance between this world and the world of spirit. … This permeation with spirit informs my whole being and substance.
On the one hand my substance is very stable, on the other it is in dissolution. For instance, see the feathery quality of my pinnate leaves, through to the tips of each leaf, which are pointed and dentate, or toothed. Due to my transitional and gateway function, my leaves are flame shaped. In the flame you meet the world of spirit in tangible form.
A sulphurous quality comes through [the smell of my leaves.] The world of spirit does not necessarily smell very good for earthly senses. You would need to completely refashion your sense systems to really endure spirituality. If you want to develop your clairsentient faculties of smell, you can school your senses with the scent of crumbled elder leaf. On the other hand, my blossoms give of a fragrance that you probably find wonderful, which has an intoxicating effect and which you use to make sparkling wine. The scent serves at the same time as a warning not to get intoxicated.
As for the berries being poisonous when green and only edible when fully ripe:
Elder tree: “When you are still green you should not pass across to the other side, for then spirituality can endanger you. You first have to attain a certain soul maturity to cope with the full reality. The guardian of the threshold and I have a very close relationship. Wherever elder grows you can encounter your guardian.
Elder has a cleansing effect on the body. You can’t cross over the threshold in an impure state.
I belong to the cultural inheritance of northern Europe, and thus to the forces that come from the North and Teutonic cultures. I belong to people of the central European cultural epoch and their roots. … I am not so important to Asiatic peoples.”
Q: “There are said to have been times when people took off their hats as a mark of respect when passing an elder tree. Why did they do this?”
Tree: “Because they knew unconsciously that the place surrounding an elder tree is sacred. That’s why they removed their hats in the same way as going into church. At the same time people knew unconsciously that higher beings were connected with the elder tree, such as the guardian of the threshold, or Mother Holle, who is a fairytale image of the figure of the guardian.”
From: Nature Spirits of the Trees.
The strange thing to me is that I never liked the taste of elderberry, just the flowers, so I have most of a box of ‘medicinal’ tea on my shelf that I save for when I have a bad cough or cold. However, since writing this story and becoming closer to the tree, I have found I now rather enjoy it.
I came across this wonderful garden sculpture last weekend, while doing “essential research” for planning the redesign of my garden. (This garden is a little bigger than mine however…) It consists of ten wooden hares, nine of which are mesmerised by a full wooden moon hanging in the tree above their heads.
The hare has inspired many legends thanks to its unusual behaviour, such as boxing which is apparently females boxing males to either prove their strength before mating, or else fend them off. Until relatively recently it was believed that hares were hermaphrodite and changed sex each month – as late as the nineteenth century valuations in Wales did not specify the sex of the animal unlike for cats, dogs, or any other farm animal. Hares do not mate for life, and do not have much of a family life. They are born fully furred and with eyes open, and can just about survive by themselves if they had to. Each leveret will have its own ‘form’ or nest for the mother to visit, constructed in some long grass to give shelter, so they learn to be independent and solitary from the start. It was said that hares can do superfoetation, that is be pregnant twice over, with each pregnancy at a different stage. Science has apparently yet to prove this one way or the other. However it is known that one doe can produce 42 leverets in a year, which is a pretty high fertility rate for a mammal.
They are often said to be shape-shifting witches in disguise, particularly during times when witches were feared. Their solitary nature, being active at night, and being unpredictable and illogical in most people’s minds rather than recognising their intuition led the two to be associated. In British mythology, the Goddess Eostre was said to change into a hare at the full moon, the hare was sacred to the Moon Goddess Andraste, Ceridwen changed into a hare, and Freya was attended by hares. Boudicca used hares for divination, releasing them before battle and seeing which way they ran.
Hares are closely associated with the Spring Equinox, as it is the one time of year when they are seen to gather in droves, for reasons not yet understood. It is also at this time they are seen to box, run in random directions or in circles, roll in the grass, and generally behave like ‘mad March hares’. In more recent times the relationship with Eostre is cited for a reason for celebrating them at the Equinox, and also because their sex brings balance, which is the key to the energies that surround us at that time. Like the moon, they symbolise resurrection as they go through the birth, growth, reproduction, death and rebirth cycle at great speed. Male hares can supposedly give birth, having got themselves pregnant, and they are even said by some to lay eggs, like the picture of the hare in the moon holding an egg. Some see the hare’s egg as a cosmic egg which contains the seeds for all life.
Equally interesting is the tree, which is a handkerchief tree, Davidia involucrata, which was in flower when I saw it. (The flowers were all a little high for photographing individually, and just past their best.) Also known as the Dove tree in its native China, a tree of peace, seed was brought back to England by EH Wilson in 1901. It is the sort of tree that still gets mentioned in the newspapers here when it flowers, because it takes several years to reach flowering size and is still considered to be a rare sight. It was never widespread and remains endangered in the wild.
Occasionally, however, the cycle takes a new twist. This Hornbeam tree growing at Lacock Abbey in Wiltshire is just coming into leaf. The wonderfully twisted branches now lying on the ground are still growing happily, because it has managed to reroot itself. It has also sent up a new ‘sapling’ of its own.
This weekend marks Ostara, the time of the Spring Equinox when all comes into balance for a very brief period before tipping over into Summer. Night and Day, cold and warm, closed and open, hibernating and active. And of course the Ostara hare lays its cosmic eggs and fertility is everywhere. I often feel it as a pivotal moment between Winter and Spring – even though Spring might have started at Imbolc, with occasional glimpses earlier, now is the time when I can think about sewing seeds in the garden.
However this year was totally different, with a solar eclipse on the same day. It was as if the Earth anticipated the event, with the birds falling silent before the Moon even moved in front of the Sun. First a small bite, as the Moon moved between us and the Sun, forcing the Sun to follow the Moon’s usual path. I watched as the Sun waned from its full state not to Gibbous but more like a cookie with a bite out of it. Then the more familiar crescent shape, which diminished to a very thin line. Then as the Moon continued to pass above the Sun the crescent became a hammock, then a smile. Beautiful. Finally as the Moon moved off, the Sun waxed to its normal full state again. An entire cycle of death and regrowth in under two hours. I watched first through a welding mask while the skies were clear, then as the clouds thickened, there was sufficient filtering to watch it through plain glass – which felt more special as I was no longer cut off from it. The clouds gradually became so dense as to be almost opaque so I was unable to see the final moments, but by then the power had been released. Normal life resumed, except that the day felt charged, brighter, less ordinary than before. And definitely less balanced!
So instead of a gentle balancing and breathing out as energies begin their rising back out of the earth, I felt a tremendous burst of potential released as the Sun and Moon came into line and their individual powers combined to produce something greater than the sum of the parts. It was exciting, and I was full of plans for the day, the month, the year, the future.
Ostara was celebrated on Saturday, when ‘normal service resumed’ and the birds were back at the feeder again. But for me, there was another difference – that may have been crystallised by the eclipse – which relates to a post I wrote four weeks ago on Finding the Excitement. Because the next day I was completely unable to lie in bed listening to the radio or reading a book while waiting for M to wake up and want her morning feed, before we both joined the day in our usual slow way.
I have been a slow riser all my life … and existing on six hours sleep because M is hungry and wakes up every two or three hours means I generally take as long in the mornings as I can get away with. But since my previous post I have continued to approach each day with excitement and wonder about what it may hold. When I think how up until four years ago I was in and out of hospital, with no energy, drugs in my arms, unenthusiastic to get out of bed ever, I’m just amazed at how my life has turned around. And if I can do it, anyone can. One small step at a time.
I like snow. The child in me delights in the play potential, slipping and sliding, or creating three dimensional figures like snowmen, cats, dogs, or igloos and caves. Catching a snowflake in your mouth is both silly and special. Returning from a walk covered in the stuff feels cold and wet, and yet it is the experience of sledging or floundering in drifts that I remember long after I have warmed up – or I would have more sense than to do it all over again the next year.
It is said that every snow crystal is unique, although in reality some types of crystals are more individualised than others depending on how they are formed and how complex their shapes. The snow we had at the end of last year was amazingly light and fluffy, and grew crystals upwards from undisturbed surfaces that were absolutely stunning. This week’s snow is wet slushy stuff and not anything like as pretty. Some snow squeaks when you walk on it, other times it turns icy making the pavements a no-go area. For a substance that is simply frozen water, its variability often amazes me.
Last winter we did not have any snow. While this was great from the point of view of walking with a little one in a carrier or pushchair, or driving or cycling to regular activities, it was not so great for the garden. The garden needs a season of cold, as this triggers many seeds into growth and shoots into producing flower buds. Without enough cold weather many of our favourite varieties will not grow well – hence why imported apples are different varieties than home grown ones. The cold also kills off many bugs that would eat the plants and multiply before the larger predators come out of hibernation. Snow is particularly good in the garden for adding a layer of insulation when the weather gets really cold and protecting those borderline-hardy plants, so some people deliberately heap it onto dormant flower beds. This also acts as ‘the poor man’s fertiliser’, adding small, easily absorbed levels of nitrogen to the soil and some much needed moisture. In some areas early or late falls of snow were dug into the ground to get maximum advantage from it.
However I also think that we need snow for the light it brings. Winter is a dark time, with the sunlight lacking in both strength and hours. Muddy ground and leaf-less trees do little to help this. But cover everything with a white blanket for a week, and the little available light is reflected upwards from each snow crystal bringing light into our inner core. A winter without snow feels a very long dark time indeed; a week of snow with the odd bit of sunshine makes all the difference to our happiness.