Summer Solstice on the Coast

Summer solstice 2015, unsure of where to go, some of my friends were going to Stonehenge, some were attending a more local public ritual during the day, I knew I wanted to see the sun rise though, but I didnt want to have to travel to the other end of the country to do this.
I decided to go to the Point of Ayr, in North Wales. 30 minutes drive from me. It was either there, or a hilltop, to get the view to the north-east.
I checked that the high tide was approx 2.30am on that beach, and I arrived an hour later.
Miles and miles of empty beach, nobody else at all present, nobody in robes to do ritual, no crowds, no party, just me, the land, sea and sky.
The tide was receding, the beach washed clean and the sand rippled and wet from the waves. The first rays of light in the sky reflected off the puddled beach, as I walked to the waters edge, the grey sky tinged with pink, the beach itself was like walking out onto a silvered mirror.

As above, so below....
This area, underneath the Dee estuary is under threat from Underground Coal Gasification (UCG) - a company called Cluff Natural Resources, a mis-nomer if ever there was one, has obtained a license to set fire to the coal seams beneath the estuary, to release the gas held within it.
Does this landscape look like it needs burning?

A local group has been set up to oppose this industry, I will help them do all they can to preserve the sanctity of this special place.

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.

The Setting of the First Full Moon of 2015

The moon was at her fullest at about 04.30am but I couldn't get out for then. I left work at 7am and drove straight to the River Dee. She was beginning to set by the time I got close, but I did manage to see her from the drivers seat as I sped along the dual carriageway, in a clear indigo sky she was there, massive and white, glowing through the thin white cloud that hung above the horizon, looking for all the world like the eye of a white dragon, seeing all.

By the time I got to the river, she had gone, and the first hint of sunrise showed on the horizon as I settled on the rivers edge. I stood with the water lapping at my feet, the river in full flow, and jet black, like a huge snake twisting through the landscape. Staring, watching as the eddies created spirals on the surface of the water, spinning and moving around with a life of their own.



A buzzard screamed and settled at the top of a beech tree opposite me on the other bank. Screaming, screaming, until it was answered by its mate further off. The hawk of dawn on the Eastern bank.
I watched the buzzard for a while, and when I looked back down again at the water, the river had taken on the colour or the coming dawn, no longer a black serpent, this was now a river of blood flowing through the field and past my feet. A white mist slowly rising from the surface, contorting into shapes and dancing as it vanished in to the chill air.

I called to her, softly. Gently, whispering my words for her as I stared into her depths, my eyes losing focus, but open to see whatever would happen. I called for her, if she would show herself to me, and stepped into the water, one foot, and then the other, expecting a shape to emerge from the dancing mists. I knew she wouldn't let me down...

Unexpectedly, a dog -a dalmatian – appeared as if from nowhere behind me. Startled slightly by my presence, he stood and barked at me, moving around to get a better view of what I was doing, still barking at me. I laughed and said hello, I had been startled, expecting something, but taken by surprise by the appearance of the dog right at that moment.

Hello, and thank you for your presence.

The dog bounded off to catch up with its owner, the moment was finished, the buzzard too, had left. Both feet in the water now, I dipped my hands into the dark water and washed my face, running damp hands through my hair, thanking her for her unexpected response.

Leaving the waters edge, I stood in the field and watched the mist rising from the frosty grass. Through the mist came another man, walking his black dog, who stopped and sniffed my hand. We exchanged greetings and he asked me where my dog was, I should have a dog, he said.

“Ah, she died” was my reply, thinking of my old dog who had passed away a couple of years ago, as he carried on with his walk.

Walking up through the field, I stopped and turned to watch the sun rise above the trees and decided it was time to go home. It felt as if I had only been there minutes, but two hours had passed.

The Rising of the First Full Moon of 2015

After spending the afternoon working on Upton Community Protection Camp, the light faded and the full moon rose. As things began to fall quiet in the twilight, I wandered over towards her radiant beauty, to spend a few silent moments of reflection with her.

The first tree I stopped at contained a barn owl, who silently swooped off to watch from a tree on the further edge.

At the edge of the field, my ears filled with the roar of traffic on the motorway, the rest of the world speeding on and on, engrossed in the mundane world, oblivious to the peaceful camp, the warm laughter of friends coming from the tea-hut and me sat quietly by the hedge, singing softly to the moon.

As the moon rose above the hedgerow, three wrens chased each other along the tangle of hawthorn branches. The smallest of birds, their song filled the darkening sky, above the din of the traffic. There is no need to be the biggest, or the loudest, if your song is true and pure, those who have ears will listen.

Moorhens chasing each other across the water drew my attention to the pond, so I walked over, and saw her there, glowing gently through the branches of the oak tree, and reflecting back from the still water on the pond.

Quietly I whispered to her, my hopes and my prayers for the camp and the people living here, noting the chill in the air, the ice on the water, and the stiffening grass beneath my feet.

When our shared moments were over, I collected up the few bits of debris that had blown into the hedgerow, and walked back over to the shacks, it was time for me to go, as I waited at the gate, putting on clean boots and whispering farewell to her, a delivery of logs arrived, and I silently said thank you for the care and generosity of the people around us.

The second part of this blog is at http://pagabohemia.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/the-setting-of-first-full-moon-of-2015.html
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Upton Community Protection Camp is a place where people can learn about fracking in the area and further afield. The camp itself was set up by undisclosed individuals who recognised the opportunity of occupying the drill site prior to works commencing. It was the first fracking site in the UK where this tactic was employed and has since been replicated elsewhere. There is a safe spaces policy which is largely common sense, inclusive guidelines on how people can expect to be treated when participating in activities within the group.  Learn, Share, Enjoy, Be Kind to One Another.

Upton community protection camp,
Duttons lane
Upton
Chester
CH2 2PE

www.facebook.com/groups/273599719484490

New years Eve at Moel Famau 2014/5

Closing off the midwinter celebrations, some members of TWC took part in the celebrations in North Wales at the top of Moel Famau, near the town of Mold, where each year 100-200 people make the trek to the summit to see in the new year, building a bonfire and taking fireworks and flares .

From the summit, the whole of the Northern Seaway gas field can be seen, stretching from Blackpool, through Liverpool, the Dee Estuary, across Cheshire up to Manchester, to Chester, into North Wales and down into Shropshire.

The views are stunning, and also give an opportunity to see what we are dealing with live in the landscape, rather than pinpoints on a map.

This gathering on the hill has happened for many years, its not a pagan event, and its not organised by a central group, the pull of the hills is strong enough to attract people from wherever they can see it, to make the journey to the summit, in the middle of winter, in the middle of the night, to light a bonfire " calling back the sun" and to celebrate the start of a new year.

We carry this flame with us throughout the rest of our mundane lives, the magickal/spiritual does not have to be separated from the mundane, events and gatherings in the everyday world do not need to be labelled as 'pagan' to have that unconscious thread running through them.

Amongst the crowd and un-noticed, we blessed our gift of a log as a prayer for the future, and gifted it to the bonfire to be shared by all, and before we left a small simple ritual was performed away from the crowd.

Nurture that flame you carry within, walk with intent at all times through this land that we have inherited from our ancestors, and are borrowing from our children, be awake and be ALIVE and visible to the spirits who walk amongst us mostly unseen by the majority.

The call is to be the spiritual warrior, not to do the acts of a warrior

AWEN!

Shadow of the Hare

The term 'Rape of Mother Earth' has been used many times in environmental campaigns, when used in the context of fracking, the similarities are blindingly obvious - a hard phallic drill forcefully penetrating  the body of the Earth, through which fracking fluid is ejaculated into her depths...

As well as the physical violation and destruction of the land, a few photos that I have seen recently coming from the Crawberry Hill fracking site in Yorkshire have hinted at the destruction being wrought on the land at a spiritual level.

Let me explain...

Many of you reading this will understand the symbology of the hare. Originally a sacred animal, the hare has been used since the iron age for spiritual/magical purposes. Just before Bouddicca's final battle against the romans, she "employed a form of divination, releasing a hare from the folds of her dress and interpreting the direction in which it ran, and invoked Andraste, a British goddess of victory."
For centuries the hare has been seen to represent the land, the open fields, the moon, fertility,  witchcraft - the pagan spirituality of the land. Think on about the 'Easter Bunny' and folklore in Christian times harks back to this belief, saying that witches would shape-shift into a hare to travel unnoticed across the land.

From http://www.welsh-mythsandlegends.walesdirectory.co.uk

"An old woman was evicted from a small farm which she and her family had held for many years.  She was naturally greatly annoyed at such conduct on the part of the landlord and of the person who supplanted her.  However, she procured a small cottage close by her late home and there she lived.  But the interloper did not get on, for she was troubled by a hare that came nightly to her house. A labouring man, when going to his work early in the morning, time after time saw a hare going from the farm towards the cottage occupied by this old woman and he determined to shoot this hare.  He procured an old gun and loaded it with pebbles instead of bullets, and awaited the approach of the hare.  It came as usual, the man fired and the hare rolled over and over, screaming and making a terrible noise.  The man however did not heed this much, for hares, when shot, do scream and so he went to secure the hare, but when he attempted to seize it, it changed into all shapes and made horrible sounds, and the man was so terrified that he ran away and he was very glad to get away from the scene of this shocking occurrence.| A few days afterwards the old woman who occupied the cottage was found dead, and it was noticed by the woman who laid her out that her arm and shoulder were riddled with pebbles.  It was thought that she was a witch and that she had troubled the people who had deprived her of her farm and that she did so in the shape of a hare. No one doubted that the injury inflicted on the old woman was anything more than the shot of the man, who supposed that he had killed a hare, when in reality he shot and killed the old woman.  The farmer was never troubled after the death of the woman whom he had supplanted."

Maddy Prior captures all this much better than I can, in her song Shadow of the Hare.. please have a listen to the song...




I shall goe until a hare
Wi sorrow and such mickle care
I sall goe in the devil's name
An while I go home again


I am ruled by the moon
I move under her mantle
I am the symbol of her moods
Of rebirths cycle

I am companion to the Gods
I can conceive while I am pregnant
I call the dawn and spring in
I am the advent

I bring life from water
In a cup that must be broken
I whisper to the bursting egg
I'm Aestre's token


Scent of dog, scent of man
Closer closer, smell them coming
Hot breath, hot death
Closer closer, hard the running

Tongues pant, hearts thump
Closer closer, through the fields
Teeth snap, bones crack
Closer closer, at my heels

Nearer, yet and nearer
I can hear the hunter's knife
He is running for my dinner
I am running for my life


Winter wakeneth al my care
Nou this leues waxeth bare;
Ofte y sike ant mourne sare
When hit cometh in my thoht
Of this worldes joie hou hit geth al to noht


Man sprays no weeds
The scythe cuts, the corn bleeds
Leverets trapped in a harvest blade
'Tis the time of man, the hare said

Here's the tractor, here's the plough
And where shall we go now
We'll lie in forms as still as the dead
In the open fields, the hare said

No cover but the camouflage
From the winter's wild and bitter rage
All our defence is in our legs
We run like the wind, the hare said


I've been cursed, I've been despised
As a witch with darkest powers
I shall goe until a hare
I've been hunted trapped and punished
In these my darkest hours
Wi' sorrow and such mickle care

I've been thrown into the fire
But I do not fear it
I shall goe until a hare
It purifies and resurrects
And I can bear it
Wi' sorrow and such mickle care

I've outrun dogs and foxes
And I've dodged the tractor wheels
I shall goe until a hare
I've survived your persecution
And your ever-changing fields
Wi' sorrow and such mickle care

I will run and run forever
Where the wild fields are mine
I shall goe until a hare
I'm a symbol of endurance
Running through the mists of time
Wi' sorrow and such mickle care
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So now, with some background, you may better understand the symbolism of the photographs released from the Crawberry Hill site, where the earth is being physically damaged by the drilling and fracking going ahead on-site, and the dead, drowned hares collecting in the ditches that collect the spilled fracking fluid symbolising the damage being done not only to the physicality of the land, but the spirituality of our land.
Photos taken from the facebook group Battle for Crawberry Hill

Paganism understands that the physical and spiritual are not separate. There is no divide between ‘body’ and ‘spirit’. Therefore, it is vitally important that we work in the physical world practically, as well as magickally, if we are ever going to stop fracking.