Artistic and Literal Ramblings

Vesica Pool, Chalice Well Gardens

This week I was supposed to be heading off to Glastonbury for a long awaited day with my circle Sisters there, but unfortunately it was cancelled a few days beforehand. Disappointed but determined to make the best of it, I started pondering what I could do with my couple of days off. I'd seen an article the other day about going on a date with yourself, which I'd dismissed out of hand as being psychological clap trap - envisaging being told to sit down for a posh meal with a mirror opposite you telling your reflection all the fabulous things about you and how much you're loved, you get the picture? Later on, the more I thought about it, I realised that taking a day out just for yourself, making an effort to please just yourself, even wearing your favourite things just for your own sake, as well as being comfortable with just yourself for company for a whole day of your choosing could actually be a rather glorious thing. At this point anyone who has ever done a Discovery workshop with our inspiring Priestess Michelle, will be jumping up and down shouting  "You cannot pour from an empty vessel!!" 

So feeling brave, armed with a map, a change of

A Slightly Hazy Long Man

clothes, a lovely picnic, plenty of water and of course the satnav, I headed off, out of my comfort zone into the wilds of deepest Sussex, an area I  really don't know very well! After a somewhat frustrating drive involving lots of roadworks and traffic, I arrived at my first stop of the day, the Long Man of Wilmington - a 70 feet tall figure marked into part of the South Downs, originally in chalk, now marked out with breeze blocks. Walking boots and socks on, off I marched up the hill to the base of the Long Man, and it was up hill, puffing and panting, I nodded and grunted to other crazy people hell bent on the same mission as me. At this point, heart pounding and my legs already aching I thought about backing out of my original plan of walking to the top of the hill. I thought about it quite a lot to be honest, reasoning with myself that if someone had ever had the audacity to take me on a date to do this, they would have gone home with a flea in their ear and alone for sure. That was before I got talking to a lovely lady, known only

Thank You Feet and Legs!!

as 'Nan', maybe in her early/mid 60's, out with her family, who'd got as far as me and was puffing nearly as much! Nan who was clearly delighted with her achievement, told me she was an artist, describing the fields laid out before us as a palette of watercolours, then told me why she was so pleased with her climb, explaining to me that this time last year she had been desperately ill with cancer and was not expected to live. She is now in full remission and wanted me to pass on her very best wishes and love to anyone who was in that dark place, to tell them that they could do it and she was intending to live the remainder of her life to the full. She spoke from her heart. I am passing that message of love and hope on for her as she asked...
At that point I knew I was going to climb up the other 150 metres - however long it took me. 

It took a while, but I did it, albeit red faced, sweaty and catching my breath. Elated and inexplicably smiling from ear to ear, I was rewarded with the wonderful sight of a beautiful Red Kite hovering 

I Did It!!

near me as I stood staring in appreciation and delight at the panoramic views all around me. Apart from the wind, the odd moo from the cows who had also braved the climb and bird calls, the silence up there was profound. There are burial mounds and barrows right on the top of the ridge, where the grass is somehow short and trimmed. What a magnificent final resting place, the ancestors must have been greatly revered here. 
Eating my picnic, I contemplated my small, modest achievement in climbing up this hill, ruminating on how much of that battle was psychological, how because I'd decided it was going to be done, that it was. How many battles do we lose before we even set foot outside of the door? No one would have known if I hadn't done it, if I'd wussed out, except me, my honesty and integrity and my Goddess. With this in mind I offered up some words of thanks to Goddess and vowed to trust my feet and heart to carry on when my brain fights back with all the bizarre reasoning and logic it can muster!

Pulpit, St Michael
and All Angels Church, Berwick.

After a leisurely descent, which took as long as the climb, I changed out of my walking clothes into a dress and sandals with the help of a kind random German lady, who stood guard whilst I swapped my attire behind half a brick wall. I'm way too tall and was far too hot and sweaty to attempt such a furtive manoeuvre in my car, I'd probably still be caught up in a sweaty, Lycra imprisoned contortionist hell now if I hadn't said stuff it! It was one of those days...
Freshly clothed and several litres of water later, I found the old church at Berwick, full of murals by Duncan Grant - part of the Bloomsbury Group, one time partner of Vanessa Bell, Virginia Woolf's sister, a refreshing sanctuary of divine coolness on such a hot day. 
The guide to the church merrily told me that the window behind the Saxon font overlooks a pagan burial mound, indicating that this is an ancient site of honouring the ancestors, if not of worship. I also found it interesting that this tiny chapel displays

such a fondness for the art of the Bloomsbury Group that the parish was able to overlook the bohemian and unconventional lifestyles of it's founder members. I always have a funny five minutes in a church, as though I'm an impostor, expecting people to suddenly ask me to leave, or wondering if it's entirely appropriate for me to be there. When a lovely lady started chatting to me about the murals and flowers that I had admired, which it turned out that she arranged, I felt the wave of uncertainty rise in me until she showed me the beautiful cards to buy, all of butterflies, birds and flowers before she triumphantly and seemingly out of nowhere brandished a card of a beautiful cornfield at me. Sold! Thank you my Goddess for reminding me that spirituality is everywhere! 
Whilst wandering through the churchyard I found this beautiful and simple inscription 'Jane Broster 1924-2010 Lively Gentle Empathist Sincere Friend' How beautiful and simple, what a tribute. How apt for such a beautiful mix of faith, spirituality, ideas and beliefs in a tiny church.

Charleston Gardens

From here it was a short drive to Charleston Farm, the summer haven and home of Vanessa Bell and the Bloomsbury Group. No photos from inside as you're asked not to take them, but it was Fabulous!! The farmhouse was leased to Vanessa Bell and became the epicentre of the arts movement pre, during and after 2nd World War. They didn't stop at painting canvases, they painted walls, tables, window sills, chairs - you name it! A lot of Vanessa's contibutions to the decor included painted circle designs and patterns, potentially full of meanings; circle of life, death and rebirth, wholeness and completion as well as being obviously feminine. I've been doodling circles ever since! The beauty for me was in the simplicity and conviction of the art, it didn't matter that it wasn't necessarily aesthetically or technically perfect, but it was genuine and designed sometimes with a specific person in mind, so was heartfelt.
A timely message to me as I often wrestle with 

Athena/Minerva

getting a bit of work right, worry about it being perfect - missing the point (again) that it's the creativity and the process of engaging in that is important.This is paticularly important as I am writing a bigger piece of work at the moment that is challenging me and my concepts of quality, as well as some art work I have offered to contribute for a friend's book! 
Just in case I needed a further reminder, as I explored the beautiful gardens I found lots of busts adorning an old garden wall, all of them Goddesses. This one seemed to take pride of place and appears to be of Athena/Minerva - mainly and oddly known as a Goddess of both War and Wisdom, but also of inspiration, arts, crafts, handicrafts, courage and agriculture... Perfect !

What a beautiful and glorious day - topped back up with wonder, awe, ideas, strength, satifisfaction and gratiutude of all sorts of things, including myself. 
Feeling inspired and full, I headed home musing on my continual journey of discovery, contemplating where I have been so far, all the places I am yet to travel, the people I have yet to meet and learn from.

                                    Have a Blessed Week x x 

Lammas.....at last!!

Trying to Catch the Sun
 at Herne Bay

Belated Lammas greetings to all you lovely people! 

My blog is indeed the proverbial bus of the publishing world, still better late than never. 
A million and one excuses for the delay, the blog site did go down for a bit, but me and IT have never been the best of bed fellows and most of the reasons lay entirely at my feet so apologies  to all and thanks for waiting with patience, unless you are Emma, who you will pleased to know has been gently nagging me at work for a while , reminding me that I hadn't 'published' for a while and that I needed to get on with it! In which case thank you for your encouragement and belief x
Not that I've been quietly sleeping away my summer or hiding out anywhere, I've been rather busy! Late July we had the pleasure of having our little house guest James again for a weekend, he always helps me find my inner maiden, however well she tucks herself away, reevaluating

Sunset Over the Sea

the world through more youthful eyes and shaking off the detritus that has immersed us but we no longer need, like stress and routine, even if just for one weekend. On this last particular occasion we took in the seaside, sunsets, animals, arcades, chips and lots of photography - hence the photo of me almost holding the sun, as well as completing a small project taking photos of his and my old schools, places of interest in our village to send to a friend who hasn't lived here for several decades. A weekend of simple wonders and gems of delighted discoveries. I think he went home for a rest!
Lammas itself is always a time of celebration in our family as it's around my lovely Dad's birthday, plenty of reasons for family get togethers and cake! 
In between this year's festivities and the realisation that Lammas would be on the evening I was working, I decided to celebrate on the Sunday before, which didn't seem to coincide with anything that my like minded friends were doing, undeterred, I knew I would wake up and Goddess would have inspired me to celebrate the perfect way for me...... flowers, ancient woodland and Motherline as it turned out, who would have guessed?

I woke up feeling the need to honour my Motherline as my way of marking and celebrating Lammas, honouring the continuous line of fertility that we have been blessed to be part of. As I've mentioned before a lot of my Mum's family are in the beautiful churchyard at Aylesford and I always leave a couple of flowers on all the graves I know are 'ours'. Feeling humble and blessed at the same time, I headed off and bought a variety of bunches of flowers in yellows, peaches and oranges, all the colours of Lammas, deciding that I would take my Mum some too when I saw her later in the day, as well buying enough for me and some to surprise my daughter when she got in from work. 
Whilst I was happily

Lammas Flowers for Lily

falling over graves, kneeling on pine cones and chatting to my long departed Nan and Great Grandmothers, explaining what I was doing and  thanking them for the gifts and genes they passed down to me, I remembered my Nan telling me that her Grandmother was there too and had shown me a rough area, the headstone long gone, even when she had told me roughly 30 years ago. There's a bench in the vicinity, so I sat there and thought of her too, I knew she'd had a very difficult life, but had been a strong and determined woman, I left a few flowers for her too, chuckling to myself that this line of women were oddly all from a variety of non conformists chapels and churches and instead of rolling their eyes in horror, were probably proudly saying yep, here's another one, merrily doing her own thing! Very comforting and emotional all in the same instant.

I had also decided to take some time out to meditate and explore some new ground, well when I say new, of course I mean the exact opposite. I had recently read about the earthworks of an Iron Age Hill Fort nearby in ancient woodland that could once have been the stomping ground of any ancient ancestors who may have been alive then, which is how I found myself confronted with this unusual tree in a quiet clearing at Oldbury Hill Fort - very interesting name isn't it? Quite how a tree grew like that I don't know but it most definitely spoke of the Goddess to me, of fertility, of wombs, of birth and after I explored the tracks in the woodland, listening for ancients voices and whispers amongst the trees, I returned for some much needed quiet contemplation and musings. It felt like the perfect place to lean back and listen to the sounds of the woodland, feeling the roots of the trees reaching down to the belly of the earth beneath me and the branches stretching up to the heavens above me, conscious as always of the

The Curious Womb Like Centre

echoes and reflections of the Motherline in everything around me. Not for the first time I didn't feel entirely alone, safe but curiously watched by unseen eyes. What I did find is that after a while I could sense movement in the trees, in the air and in the energy around me, sure enough dog walkers and ramblers would come into sight or hearing just after that, as though my silent stillness had enhanced my senses. That explained some of the feeling. It was also a very special place, no doubt about it. I do have to admit to slightly freaking myself out when I heard snatched intermittent strains of a strange language whilst sitting leaning against the tree. My eyes snapped open on a couple of occasions expecting to see fur and hide clad Iron Age people surrounding me as though I'd travelled back in time, but was relieved to finally make out a family on the ridge who as they came nearer waved and greeted me with a cheery 'Guten Tag'! Merely some happy German visitors, but it made me stop and think about how our ancient ancestors might have spoken, their dialects and their in my case probable European origins....

All in all a very happy Lammas, Mum and Sophie loved their Lammas Motherline flowers, in total 6 generations of our line were honoured with flowers that day and many, many more were thought about.

Have  a Blessed Week and I promise to not be away for so long this time.

Blessed Be xx