Remembering Love

Storm Clouds Brewing

It wasn't a great week last week was it? I woke up early on Tuesday still feeling like utter poop, it had been brewing over the weekend but it had arrived and settled in with a vengeance. Groaning and reaching for my phone to ring my manager to say I wouldn't be in again (a pretty much an unheard of situation) I caught the early morning headlines and read with horror the events of the previous night in Manchester. As the awfulness of it began to filter through, emotions of anger and despair rushing through me for lives lost to hatred, tears in my eyes and heart in my throat, I suddenly thought of my little cousin who studies at Manchester Met, she was highly unlikely to be at the concert but you never know quite where life takes people. I checked my messenger contacts and with relief saw she was active on line and replied to my message immediately, wondering what I was talking about.

A Perfect Place for
Walking and Talking....

Heartfelt relief and gratitude for us, sadly not the case for everyone. Sounds a bit dramatic maybe, but the fear was real and touched a nerve even though it was just brief and fleeting, it hit home more than ever before. 

I don't usually comment on what is happening in the world on here, sure I read about it, think about it, worry for the future and do what I can in my own small way in my little bit of the world. I'm no politician or stateswoman but I do know that this is not about religion and faith, it's about hatred, fear, division and all that is dark in our world. What I also know, is that the love, compassion, selflessness, the desire to help others and kindness of the majority shone through, breathing a little much needed light into a very dark day - Muslim (and a whole variety of other faith) taxi drivers giving free lifts all night to get people home, Rabbi's delivering coffee to frazzled Police officers, pubs and hotels offering shelter to those who were stranded and those two homeless guys who have nothing at all, but ran towards the chaos to offer any comfort they could to those who needed it, a lady who sadly died in their arms. That's what human nature is ultimately about, that's who we are, mirrored in all those beautiful souls, those who put others first when they have needed them most and didn't allow gender, faith, religion or race to divide us; that's what we need to keep alight and alive in our hearts and souls, even when it seems no one else is, because they are - they may just need another light to shine with them. 

Beautiful Bewl Water

More practice walks for the nearly here Marathon walk took me out and about again this week, tackling the circular 13 mile route around a nearby reservoir Bewl Water, I knew about that the next day I can tell you! As I started the walk, the clouds grew menacingly dark and before long I could hear the rumbles of thunder and see the distant flashes lightning - counting the distant between the two to measure the distance like I did as a child, just what I wanted to hear as I walked through the woodland! Laughing to myself and thanking Goddess for the cleansing storm and praying that the lightning didn't hit me as strode with purpose, I think we can qualify it as a coddiwomple to be honest, I had a vague map, hadn't a clue where I was heading but knew it would end up back where I started at some point. 

Which

Traditional Kentish Oasts

thankfully I did just over 4 hours and a wide variety of dog walkers, ramblers, joggers, runners and cyclists later. Everyone was cheery, waving walking sticks, exchanging hellos - even the sweaty puffed out joggers and runners who caught me unawares  a streak of neon pink or green as I communed with nature, huffed and puffed to my Goddess about my sanity and my clicking hip in between revelling in the beauty around me and probably looking a little disturbed as I practised a short talk I am giving in a few weeks about some local neolithic stones -  bumbling along, choosing the right words and delivering choice pithy sentences to trees and bushes as I went. They appreciated it I'm sure, just like the cyclists who after silently sneaking up on me, patiently waited for me as I extolled the migratory habits of 4000 BCE mammoths and reindeer to my invisible audience of Dryads and wood nymphs, nodding politely when I realised and explained I was practicing a talk for a summer solstice camp, even asking what it was about. I explained, they didn't run and 

Sweet Smelling Honeysuckle

they even said they'd pay the stones a visit next time they were that way.... 

Rewarding myself with an ice cream as I got back to the visitors centre, flopped into the car and pulled my walking boots off, I found a text from a beloved friend who turned out to be a distant cousin a few years ago, well she always was but we just didn't know. Originally from the same village as me, after being an uber babysitter for several years, she met her husband, moved to Leicester, settled down and now has 4 gorgeous children of her own. 

A last minute Bank Holiday caravan trip to the Kentish coast for them meant a chance for us to catch up, and a couple of hours later after I had soaked away my aches and pains in the bath we tracked

St Mary's Bay

them down at a beach about an hour away. They hadn't told the children that we were coming, and to watch them realise who their parents were talking to, to see such amazing little people discard buckets, spades, sandcastle, forts and moats with delight and run up the beach to envelop me in glorious wet and sandy hugs was a beautiful and wondrous thing. Exactly the sort of thing that makes your soul sing again. Helping dig a moat, build castles, collect shells, look for hag stones, stopping punch ups and swimming in the sea (yes really !) were the main components of the next few

precious hours. I came away with some glorious booty, a shell each from the boys Tyler and Ashton, a beautiful heart shaped stone from my Emily who has a wild heart very like my own and sand from Lucy the baby of the family - all in my shoes, thanks Bubba! 

All given, knowing it would go on my dresser with my other 'special stuff' and that's exactly where it is. 

Treasured and loved. 

Have a Blessed Week and Remember Love x x 

Gathering Roots

How Very British!

Greetings Campers!
Can you guess what I've been up to this weekend? Yep, I've been braving the deepest wilds of Kent, well ok a local camp called The Roots Gathering - a blend of workshops and talks with like minded folk. Originally I had made arrangements to go with a friend but as it turned out on the day, I headed off alone. Having a deep breathing session and after giving myself a talking to as I drove and like a child asking Goddess for her help, I won't lie it was still with some not inconsiderate level of trepidation that I pulled up and to pitch my tent. Just goes to show how much anxiety can be hidden behind a smiling face...  As I put my tent up I was scouring passing faces for a familiar one, busying myself arranging the contents of my tent and my equipment, before retreating inside for a little calming exercise and a quick reassuring chat with himself and the kids on our family group chat. Carpe diem'ing the living daylights out of the situation, I pulled my invisible

Beautiful Mandala

cloak of non anxiety tightly round myself and armed with my steaming mug of tea I went in search of the communal fire, what a good place to start!
As the fire lighting ceremony got underway a few familiar faces appeared amongst the smoke, and whilst some long lost friend didn't suddenly and miraculously appear there were enough people I recognised and enough friendly smiling faces to make me feel a bit better and head off to the main tent to enjoy the evening's entertainment, including watching work start on this amazing mandala and some fantastic acoustic singers (one of them a camper who felt brave) the desire to run back to my tent, pack up my stuff and run away slowly diminishing!
The following morning after a remarkably

Rise and Shine!

good sleep - my brand new pump up mattress doing it's job admirably, despite a cold coming on, I sat watching the beauty of the morning as the sun rose higher in the sky over tents of sleepy campers. 

Clutching my yoga mat - which had the best airing it's seen for a long time this weekend, I heading off for the first of the morning workshops, choosing the fabulously named didjeridoo sound scape meditation. I had no clue what to expect and wasn't disappointed, 3 didji's playing, drums, wooden flute, crystal singing bowls and rain makers providing an evocative and dreamy backdrop to our own personal meditation journeys of well .. just being! Rivers and spirals of colours just washing around me somehow connected, sifting through the previous week, tumbling it through my consciousness, leaving what was needed to carry on the journey safely within my reach and discarding all the detritus that no longer served me. I could have been in an ancient cave in the deepest outback, instead of in a slightly damp ex army tent in a field on the Kent/Sussex border - Awesome!

Story Telling Round the Camp Fire

Feeling decidedly braver as the day progressed, chatting to familiar faces and striking up conversation with random people such as the lovely ladies Yvette and the Kashas camped right in front of me, I learned about Forest kindergartens, heard the harp played by the Bard Chris, watched him encourage a shy child to have a go, talked to the lovely Faye about the strange link of connections and how they take you places and people you never dreamt of. 
I attended a fascinating talks on the local to me Coldrum Stones, Bone Singers which all resonated deeply a talk on Shamanism and poetry from the land before working on a collaborative group piece called Voice of the Land where we all roamed round the grounds for a while then came back and offered our line/s in a circle to make an eclectic fast moving bit of work! My lines where something akin to this: 'Wind brushed Beech, solitary marker to secret warrens, guarded by thistles and brambles'  purely noticed because I tripped in one, clearly the land talking to me about looking where I am going! 

More wonderful music, drumming and a crazy banjo player followed by some fabulous story telling round the camp fire, complete with the strains of a 'Viking Disco' coming from the main tent- which added the perfect back drop. If I closed my eyes I could have been listening to a weary traveller recalling tales and legends in return for supper whilst sounds of the feasting and music drifted in from the Great Hall, fanciful but wonderful. I really feel this something we are missing, the stories, the spoken word, that rooted connection.

Another morning, a bit more head coldy, but

An Appropriate Purchase...

undeterred, another mediation journey, this time accompanied by a Gong Bath, the blended sounds of about 7 or 8 gongs, a beautiful and harmonious soothing sound that I can only describe as well shimmery! A fascinating meditation journey of walking through forests until I came to the edge of a deep canyon, which I decided to leap into, plunging down until suddenly I became an Eagle, soaring and swooping up and down along the river running through the bottom of the canyon, before alighting at a cave full of the spirits of the ancestors, sitting with them and then painting my hand with ochre and marking the wall with my hand print, which somehow said I was there, connected with them, one of them. Browsing through the stalls I came across the most wonderful smell, it was this incense being burned by the lovely Coldrum Stones Speaker, that he makes himself...Kentish Roots, with a name like that I had to treat myself!

I Made This!

By now my head was pounding, with both the cold, headspace clearing as some people suggested the powerful symbolism and possible brain cell over load of all the talks I had attended, so I decided to try my hand at simple basket weaving. 
Look at what I made! From grass, roots and raffia. It's not the tidiest but wow I am ridiculously proud. Sitting in the sun, chattering about the different workshops and talks we had attended we wove a rich tapestry story of our festival experience as we twisted and threaded our little baskets together in a companionable atmosphere. With the chink of the metal at the smithy stall, flutes and drums playing melodiously out of sight,the smell of woodsmoke and outdoor cooking along the sounds of children playing it was as though we'd travelled back in time again. 
A very familiar sensation, it must be so deep rooted in our souls and in our genetic make up, even if we appear to have forgotten it most of the time, so busy in our modern world. I decided to admit defeat and leave early, knowing that my head was getting worse and I needed

My Lovely New Necklace

sleep. So I packed up and left, sad to have missed the talks on divining the landscape, wells and closing ceremony. It was the right thing to do though - I got home and slept for 3 hours! Before I left I passed a stall and a necklace caught my eye, my heart, my soul and everything else. One hand shot out to touch the stone whilst the other rummaged in my bag for my purse. Very unlike me, I'm not usually so taken with material yearnings for things. I'd never seen one like it before and hadn't got a clue what it was. Chatting to the stall holder the lovely Mandy who I have met before at Folkstone Circle and lives 5 minutes from where I work as I paid, she informed me that it was Lodolite, the Shaman's Stone. I love it! A bit of research on when I got home revealed it's connection to the spiritual plane, visionary experiences and past life energies. I so know this is the start of another journey ...
So now I'm going to try and stay up for the local online Moot and then let this cold or clearing whatever it is do it's thing.

Have A  Blessed Week x x

Full Moon Findings

May Full Flower Moon

What a beautiful full moon this week!
I hope you managed a glimpse?
Lady Moon was rather resplendent in her glowing entirety, dazzling and imposing in the black velvety sky. According to various folklore and legends the May Moon
is the Full Flower Moon, Blessings Moon and Corn Planting Moon which heralds all aspects of love, for each other, for the land and looking after yourself! 
All week I have had some weird and wonderful dreams, when I was managing to sleep that it is - It's been a week of waking up and looking at the clock to see 3.33 in red square digits

3.30 AM
Feathers courtesy of gallery.yopriceville.com   

taunting me! 
A colleague suggested that it means that the Ascended Masters are with me, the spiritually enlightened who were human in a previous incarnation, great spiritual teachers that are here to let me know I have their love, help and companionship or according to others Angels are present who have a connection with amongst other things communication, psychic abilities, growth and creativity. beliefs that combine the two talk about 333 meaning that my prayers are being answered and they are here to help me understand my life purpose and help me to achieve my soul's mission. Ok.... I wasn't aware that I had prayed for advice with my life's purpose, though I have to admit I had been taking an interest in specialising in a particular area of my field, which is health and social care and have been investigating further training to that end... hmm, in angelic terms 

View From Bidborough Ridge

the number 333 invites you to:

'Use your natural communicative and lightworking skills to aid, assist and serve others in positive and uplifting ways.'  http://sacredscribesangelnumbers.blogspot.co.uk   

Not for the first time I think I'll consider myself told! 

Wee small hour insomnia and purported visitations aside, I've been out and about exploring pastures new in preparation for my upcoming Big Hike. This week as well as more local haunts, I have enjoyed the country delights of Penshurst, Haysden and Bidborough Ridge - they weren't joking about that ridge either! It looks quite deceiving in this picture but judging by the puffing, panting and burning aches in my muscles - it wasn't! Fabulous views over Weald at Tonbridge and Sevenoaks though. There were a few silent mutterings in my head as I laboured up that hill, if I'm honest,

Glorious Wild Garlic

questioning the sanity of undertaking a challenging 26 point something miles marathon walk next month. This time however, I had company - Liz and Becky who may well have been wondering the same thing! 
We were rewarded though, with breathtaking scenery, flora and fauna, which we all acknowledged we wouldn't have appreciated even 10 years ago, our more mature hormones enjoying a joint refocus on well being and keeping healthy - bikinis and fashion a quest of former years, consigned to the 'stuff it, there's just more of me to love' recycling bin of Room 101 of Womanhood!
What I did notice is that knew what most of the plants were now, old names coming back to the walks of my youth and of course 'good old' google of pink/white/blue hedgerow flowers until I locate the correct one after many of my rambles. The glorious smells that accompanied our walk - fragrant late bluebells, heady notes of wisteria at our 'ahem' pub pitstop and the exotic rich scent of the wild garlic down near the river. We literally stood in amongst it and inhaled it's intoxicating aroma - or stench , depending on how you feel about it! I read a post on a page on facebook last week about foraging and cooking with wild garlic. If I could have carried

Scented Jasmine

it for a further 6 miles, I may have respectfully gleaned some! A bit of research on this and the perfect recipe was unearthed - this simple and gloriously rustic gem - Wild Garlic Pesto.
I might have gone for a wander and a forage today for some and been creative but after a late night paranormal investigation, which I'll tell you about another time, that had me sliding into bed just before 3 and mercifully not seeing 3.33 in, being woken at 9 by indignant and ravenous cats. Any foolhardy thoughts of walking were hastily averted by a spontaneous invite to lunch with my lovely son Dan and his equally lovely partner David at their new apartment - a veritable feast of all things yummy, which left me full and in a mood to rest my legs in the sun in our garden, revelling in the glorious smell of the Jasmine that has burst into life. It seems this week has been an abundant feast of simple sensory delights.

Have A Glorious Week x x 

Reference : http://sacredscribesangelnumbers.blogspot.co.uk/2011/08/angel-number-333.html
Link : https://themoonlightshop.com/blogs/news/18987524-the-flower-moon-in-may

Walking With My Ancestors

My Beltain Altar

Well this week has rushed past at some speed! You know those weeks where you could do with an extra couple of hours in the day or even an extra day in the week? Art work for a friend, studying for a course at work, let alone just normal work or having a life! So on Saturday, heeding the words of a very wise woman I know whose favourite saying is 'you cannot pour from an empty vessel'- I treated myself to a massive lie in and spent the afternoon lounging in my PJ's on the sofa cuddling cats - there are 12 to choose from at the moment, snoozing, drinking tea and attempting to read my way through my mahoosive 'to read' pile that has grown to alarmingly toppling

Well Worth a Read...

risk proportions. The book of delight this Saturday was this little gem... full of amazing facts you never knew you didn't know, based on decades of very sage observations, such as leaves growing bigger in the north side of a tree - who knew how soon that would be useful?
So to today, super lie in complete followed by an early night, I got up ready and raring for a 9 mile training hike for the MacMillan Big Hike I am doing in June, I'm still not quite sure why I signed up for this! 26 miles is bad enough but over the very beautiful but extremely hilly South Downs. Actually that's a lie, I do know why I signed up - 3 times in the last 3 years some of my most precious people have had to fight this disease, so this is a very personal challenge. 
Armed with an old map, plenty of water and food (- who knew how long I would be?) sporting appropriate attire, I set off strolling down the hill to the station, not expecting any amazing Goddessy moments, stopping to admire and photograph the delights of the hedgerow along the way.

Feathers Led the Way

After my initial confident visit to the church yard to pay my respects to at least 3 generations of ancestors, it wasn't long before my intrepid pioneer mindset faltered a little and I realised that following a path from my map and the online route on my phone wasn't quite as easy as it looked. For anyone interested, this is sort of the route I took -Aylesford Ancient Sites. Luckily as the blurb on the website promised, you are never on your own on this walk - plenty of dog walkers, other ramblers and spirits from the past on these ancient track ways I read at one point of mild confusion along the way...Spirits, ancient track ways? Hello? Just when I was thinking is this the right route? Am I lost? I saw a feather gaily bobbing at me from the cow parsley as if to say follow me, a message from my ancestors - then a friendly real life and very much alive dog walker confirmed that I was indeed on the right path. Wandering along I could help but feel that my footfall was echoing ancient paths that my ancestors must have taken, byways that they knew like the back of their hands and frequented regularly, passing a fenced off water filled quarry pit, I knew I was passing where my great grandfather had once worked. Peering

An Ancient Track Way Long Before The
Pilgrimages Connected to Thomas A Becket

through the railings I saw the quarry as it once was in my minds eye, memories of old family photos of suited gents posing stiffly for the camera before turning back to the quarry. Plodding on up hill, very aware that any ancestors joining me must have found my huffing and puffing hilarious and hopefully endearing at the same time, I reached a mid point and saw this sign reminding me of the wren call I heard earlier in the year.. These paths are ancient trackways that date back to the stone age, backed up with archaeological finds. More dog walkers, cyclists and ramblers were met and chatted with, paths and routes discussed. After much travail and huffing and puffing, I reached higher than I had anticipated, I flopped on the mossy grass and marvelled at the views and mentally congratulated the ancestors for choosing such beautiful sites to inhabit

Lunch With Ancient Ancestors

and lay their honoured ancestors to rest. Almost breaking into a delighted trot, I made my way down the North Downs Way a lot quicker than I'd struggled up it! Just checking for a moment with another dog walker that I was on the right track in the woodland, imparting my Big leaves to the North knowledge on, I headed south successfully, to be fair it was downhill so not that tricky! Ancient pathways taking me to Kits Coty House the remains of a long ploughed up Long Barrow, where I stopped to eat my lunch and spend some time with some very ancient ancestors. I was joined by some lovely cyclists who were from Oxford - I seriously hope they hadn't cycled that far today, who were keen to talk about Waylands Smithy and The White Horse of Uffington that I was researching to visit on Friday night and I was able to share with them my knowledge of our local stones. How serendipitous.....  Thank you Goddess! The conversation then turned to the various stones of Orkney where this chap and his wife had just come back from - which is exactly where me and himself are headed September this year ... Timing or what? Happy but with slight aches in my legs I headed back to the village of Aylesford, past another Great Grandfather's old Forge, realising I was going to have to seriously run to catch the hourly train at 1.50, I sensibly decided that a slow amble, opportunity to take a few

An Old Ancestral View?

photos and a cheeky pint was a much better alternative. Deep breath needed to walk in the pub as a woman on their own, but hey what's the worst that can happen? Even just 15 years ago when I worked in pubs, it was a bit awkward, women might have illogically and harshly been thought of as 'up for it' - pfff someone try and suggest that to me, they'd have copped the full fury of a tired and thirsty peri-menopausal woman! No such drama - The Chequers was a lovely friendly pub and the sunday roast looked and smelt amazing! Posting a photo of my pint and view on facebook prompted a very quick message from my Mum informing me that if I really was in the Chequers, which I was, then this was where my Great Grandfather used to go for a pint. Wow. A timely reminder that my line of fore fathers is as tightly bound in me as that of my beloved motherline. Following a bit of a break, I caught the train back and managed the mile and a half up hill walk home... language ensued that is unrepeatable! That's a serious hill, but I did it. Let's hope I can drive in the morning!!

If you would like to sponsor me on my 26 mile hike on June 10th and help me rasie funds for Macmillan I'd be very grateful - the link is: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/clairescoastalchallenge?utm_source=Facebook&utm_medium=fundraisingpage&utm_content=clairescoastalchallenge&utm_campaign=pfp-share   Thank You.

Have Blessed Week x x x