Nobody can order these feathers

From wild order to human order: in making one small impermasculpture I have learned an enormous lesson of my own purpose.

The hunted gives their life to the hunter and in doing so gives of themselves to the world. The hunter took out each feather from the carcass for the wild, precise purpose of sustenance, rejecting what is not needed and keeping what is. On the sodden ground a bunch of seemingly chaotically tumbled feathers lay in disarray. I picked them up one by one and placed them in a wheel, quills facing inward and the wet strung-out feathers facing outward. On that in the centre I placed a bright lichen and a softly rotten acorn; too old to germinate, it too lost its chance of life and is slowly returning to the land.

By making order from seeming disorder I could have missed the truth of the story: what is wild is not chaos. What is wild is the REAL truth that my impermasculpture is pretending at. By touching the artistic I opened to the message of the feathers and the true meaning of my life. Who is trying to tame this wildness in me? Who is not seeing the meaning to my tumbled feathers?

I do not offer structure and plans. I do not offer systems nor do I offer theory. I bring you to your wild edges, of tumbled and sodden feathers lying meaningfully in disarray and I bring the entirety of the Earth to your heart. The feathers were part of a story that began days, weeks, months, years and eons before (perhaps so far back as to share a cousin with me) and still are telling that story.

I bring you Earth because the Earth is bringing Herself.

Three tiers or spirals to ecotherapy and interbeing wellness

Level one; healing of the Self, connecting to self, to one’s own path of healing

Level two; healing of the human/nature rupture, stepping beyond dichotomy and dualistic thinking into realising on an embodied level that what happens to the Other happens to the Self.

Level three; stepping into Service for all, human and non-human communities where the soul’s call clearly asks for us to step into Service for the Earth, the cosmos and Their inhabitants. Embodying the lessons from the spirals of initiation we have been through.

On reflection I realise (and experience) that these are not tiered but spiralling. One can and does move between these on a personal level, perhaps embodying more than one at a time. I can be of service while still needing to do soul work on a personal level. Or I am needing to realise the truth of my embodiment within the Oneness of it all, for perhaps this is not my lived experience all the time; sometimes I feel very detached from the world, other than knowing I am connected on a rational knowing. The work then needs to be done for tier two to be enacted within me.

Do we have a robust enough structure in place for this, as practitioners? Where do we turn for this? I am so blessed that the places I volunteer (RadJoy, DA, CPA) all support me enormously, as well as ask a lot from me as a volunteer, and their support in turn supports my private practice. But still, there are times when I do not tell of the full extent of my suffering; it stays between me and the Land. The goddess. Only She knows the true grief upon my shoulders. It is almost as if it’s too enormous to be shared in the human world. So both exist at once; needing human understanding and support and knowing that it can only be healed through the land.

In sum: these are not tiers in a cake, floating disconnected, but part of a great spiral dance, or a turning of a wheel that is both infinite and eternal.

Eco-trauma mislabelled and misunderstood

What we have mislabeled “climate change and chaos” is actually biospheric trauma, which we are now experiencing both psychologically (e.g., ‘eco-anxiety’) and physically. A way to resolve trauma is by focusing awareness on the inappropriate, unnatural relationships that give rise to that trauma, and coming into right relationship. With climate trauma, that means coming into proper relationship with Earth and the natural world as an obvious and natural extension of oneself.

Until we collectively awaken to the personhood of Earth by naming them, perhaps with the name Gaia, and see ourselves as an integral part of their body and ‘mind,’ there is no real basis in awareness for coming into proper relationship with them as a being going through trauma. We will continue, in other words, to experience their trauma as human anxiety over ‘climate change,’ or as an external threat (not seeing the pandemic as their auto-immune system kicking in, for example, but disconnected to inflicted trauma), or as discrete weather events happening somewhere else as irrelevant to oneself. We will continue to view the world we are trying to save from ourselves as “our planet.”

A face in the cloud

Day 66: The end

Oh how

I have realised through this task

That much of the wisdom

That comes tumbling into me

Through senses

Alert and loving of this precious life

That if I do not write it

immediately

Down onto hard copy

The truths disappear

And I am left with

Nothing but

Sorrow

That what could have been

The very

Greatest

Poems

Filled with words of truth

That could have saved us all

End up being about

The weather

And birds

And apple blossom

The

Metanarrative

Of my life

Right now

Is not so deep as to be swayed even a little

If a squabble breaks out

Or the dog pees on the carpet

Or if a chicken egg

Smashes on the kitchen floor

And the toddler runs

Straight through

Gone have the lofty plans

To manage a poem a day

How about five-in-one

Playing constant catch-up

By looking through photos and

Giving thanks for snatched

Beauty

Captured so I can build a memory around it

So that I can distil something of this strange and ordinary life

To you, dear reader

So that through this

We may

Possibly

Hold onto something

No more daily doses of

Watered-down musings

Instead: I go back to what I know:

Downloads and magic

Flowing when Awen comes

I am no poet

There is no skill here

But I AM a conduit

Of which I am glad

Day 60: Herbal remedy

Soothing

Healing

Chewing

Loving

Plantain

One of the herbs I have loved

Since I first

Could see

And decipher the greens

Of the world

From one another

And I then realised

How little I know

For how hard can it be to know one

Green from another?

Healing from harm?

Cleansing from accumulation?

Not so hard

It turns out

But fear,

Oh yes this will stop me in my tracks

For many decades

As it turned out,

From learning

What do you fear?

I fear the fear of turning

Toward the not-knowing

And realising

I was welcome all along

Day 59: My birthday tower

And so here it is

and the day dawns

to the truth that I am one year more

more than I was

before

 

 

The river calls

Two new duck families

Barely two days old

 

 

More old

more wise?

more me

 

 

 

The spiral continues upwards

like a staircase in the tower

that I dream abut often

clinging to the stone walls

I climb

 

 

 

 

Over the old ground I go

yet time and again

I am higher

I see more

same place:

different perspective

 

 

 

 

I dream that the stones steps

are worn away

crumbling

I lose my hold and

my stomach lurches

with vertigo

 

 

 

wooden stakes

replace the steps

but even they

are rotten and slippery

I lie

prone on my stomach

clinging

 

 

 

 

Yet on I go

upwards and onwards

 

 

 

 

I never fall

 

 

 

 

I have not got to the top yet

I feel the walls

cold and strong

as I climb

 

 

 

The tower

Is

 

 

I am just the traveller

 

 

 

 

Day 58: Dreams and visions

It is dawning

Slowly

Through the treacle of incompetence

That my words count

And I should be writing what I am learning

Like the truth that Spirit Animal

Gazed at me

Waiting at the edge of the glade

For me to enter

Or the doorway

Made from oak

Hanging suspended

By nothing

And through it I glimpse

A mountain top

And a chalice

And air

Pure and crisp blows in my eyes

And they water

With its sting

And with love

Or the wild garlic

Whose scent I can only occasionally catch

So I know I am both human and not

I do not

Do things like everyone else

Or the mugwort

Sprouted by my garden bench

Whose leaves I caress like the dog’s ears

And who whispers dreams and visions as I sit

And tells me it’s time to step into them

Fully

If

I

Dare