Drums of Gwyn

Pulled up in our van up on the moors at the edge of the Berwyn hills, the hills of Gwyn ap Nudd.

Having a small lunch with the sound of grouse in the heather and skylarks singing as they rise up into the sky.

A large grey bird of prey just flew past over the heather, possibly a hen harrier - coming into a new landscape means having to learn the names and habits of new animals and spirits before I can hear their messages properly. The only constant message that I understand is the litter blowing on the breeze and the timber lorry going past on the road fully laden with felled trees.

Sipping on a cup of coffee in the van, a car when past on the road, the drum beats from the stereo booming out... The car passed but the drum beats carried on, sitting in silence now, I wasn't sure if the drums were from the car now vanished off into the distance, or from the wind buffeting the van... Or if they came from the moorland itself...

I decided to go and check it out. I had my drum with me and strode off into the moor, without really having a plan. I eventually came to a small hollow where a stream tumbled through, with a fallen birch  and a stubborn holly defying the ever present wind.

Here I laid out offerings of bread, for the sheep if for nobody else, and I began to drum. Moving around I found that the place that responded was the stream itself, so  I crouched down and drummed to the water, the life source of the hills and the valley below.

I had to laugh, drumming to the water I suddenly got caught, with blue sky above, I was in a sudden squall of horizontal rain soaking my face. Then they had had enough and I sensed it was time to finish, the drum no longer singing into the wind.

As I drummed the last few beats I heard my name being called from the direction of the van. OK, definitely time to head back then.

Soaked by the rain I got back. Nobody had called me. I had been called out to the moor, drummed to the water, it had responded and then I was called back, the interaction complete.

On the drive home we got some stunning views of the Tanat Valley from the road on the way down off the moors.

Grounding in the Moonlit Forest

Its been a long, stressful few weeks. Tonight, I had the chance to escape, so I did.

I jumped into the car and drove, away from the city, away from the urban glow, to a country park, to the woods lit up only by the moon and the stars.

Cautiously, I walked in the darkness down the main trackway, not using my torch, letting my eyes and ears adjust to the sounds and moonlight coming through the trees. I knew a spot way off in the trees where I could relax, but first, I had to shed away the journey to get here, and tune in to the forest.

The sounds all came and re assured me that I was alone, save for the unseen animals going about their business, and dogs barking in the distance.

I found my spot, and settled. First sitting against a rock face, but as it was an uncomfortable angle, and there being a pool of moonlight before me, I fastened up my coat and lay down in the moonlight, on the forest floor.

And I just lay there. Thoughts and worries came and went from my mind, and I relaxed more and more. Was I there 30 minutes? Was it an hour? I don't know.... But it came to an end, it came to a point where I became whole again and not scattered about. I became aware of my own being and that I was there, just a person lying on the ground in the woods, and my worries were gone. And it was cold.

After picking myself up, I clambered in the dark to a higher point where I could see the almost full moon reflecting her light down on me, and I stood, open armed, bathing in her her beauty, and whispering my gratitude.

Tuning to head back to the car, the moonlight now picked out a shiny object in the undergrowth. Clearly, others had come here too, but with less respect and less thanks, taking in the fresh air and the beauty, and leaving behind their rubbish.

Maybe on one level that is what I had also done?

But... As an act of thanks, and in recognition of the spirits of the trees and animals who share this place with us, I pulled my torch from my pocket, and a bag, and retrieved the tin can from the brambles.

The moonlight, and my torch, revealed another, and another, and still more after that.

 Walking back to the car, I filled my bag, and She picked out a discarded carrier bag in the fallen pine needles so that I could carry on with my acts of gratitude and service.

I must have walked past all this on my way in, but now, after She had cleared my mind of my own problems, my eyes were open to hers.