Into the Forest

It has begun. I have stepped off the beaten track and away from everything familiar. I heard my name called in the sound of the wind rushing through leaves, shaking branches, whispering to me spirit to spirit. It has been coming for a while, and despite the months of anticipation and preparation, the first step was still a hesitant one.

'A road. For so long in my mind it had been an unquestioned symbol of travel, adventure and escape, but in reality it’s a lousy metaphor. A road is a tunnel that traps you in linear places, linear concepts and linear time. It provides ease and convenience, but cheats you of everything you might learn if you only had the time and curiosity to leave it.'
- From The Idle Traveller, by Dan Kieran -

I needed to leave, I knew, in order to find something I have long been searching for. I'd been unfurling tentative feelers for the past six years, both outward and inward, and the time had come to try and answer some questions and explore ideas that had captured my imagination.

'T.H. White's Arthur is sent to the forest to seek his identity; many children find woodlands the right place to go to talk to themselves, to dream themselves into a different being, to effect their changeling masquerades away from the eyes of adults. For under the gaze of others, a child can be forced to hold one form, to keep a single identity, but in woodshade and tree-shadow, a child's spirit can stretch, alter and change; it is always easier to change yourself in the dark.'

- From Jay Griffiths' ‘Kith’ via Terri Windling -

I am here to learn, to explore, and also to heal. I am here to work and to play. I am here to be alone with myself and engage in community. 

‘To know the woods and to love the woods is to embrace it all, the light and the dark -- the sun dappled glens and the rank, damp hollows; beech trees and bluebells and also the deadly fungi and poison oak. The dark of the woods represents the moon side of life: traumas and trials, failures and secrets, illness and other calamities. The things that change us, temper us, shape us; that if we're not careful defeat or destroy us...but if we pass through that dark place bravely, stubbornly, wisely, turn us all into heroes. ‘

And yet, despite all the fairy tale warnings, sometimes we're compelled to run to the dark of the woods, away from all that is safe and familiar -- driven by desperation, perhaps, or the lure of danger, or the need for change. Young heroes stray from the safe, well-trodden path through foolishness or despair...but perhaps also by canny premeditation, knowing that venturing into the great unknown is how lives are tranformed… 

Sara Maitland compares the transformational magic in fairy tales to the everyday magic that turns caterpillars into butterflies. "[S]omething very dreadful and frightening happens inside the chrysalis," she points out. "We use the word 'cocoon' now to mean a place of safety and escape, but in fact the caterpillar, having constructed its own grave, does not develop smoothly, growing wings onto its first body, but disintegrates entirely, breaking down into organic slime which then regenerates in a completely new form. It goes as a child into the dark place and is lost; it emerges as the princess, or proven hero. The forest is full of such magic, in reality and in the stories."'

- Via Terri Windling -

If I have learnt anything from fairy tales, it is that you get nowhere in life without straying off the path, at least for a little while. The woods are there for you to lose yourself in, but, and this is the important thing, they are where we find ourselves again. We need the woods to become more than what we were.

‘We need the woods—the metaphor and symbol of the woods, the mythology of the woods. But all stories begin in a real place—as breath and movement in a physical space—and soak up the colour and texture of that place. When the woods are gone, the metaphors lose their power, the stories cease speaking from the silence of the trees.’
- Via Unsettling Wonder -  

We need our woods, but once again, they are under threat. The Forest of Dean, my home for the next few months, had not escaped the attention of gas-hungry predators; luckily, in the last couple of days, it has emerged that the companies in question have decided not to explore for gas. This is a huge relief. Our green spaces are sacred resources simply for being green, and the benefits they bring to us as they are should never be undervalued. 

I don't quite know what changes will occur, or what magic will happen here amongst the trees. But there's only one way to find out...

The Surge in Nature Writing: Reconnecting Body and Soul

In her exploration of the 2016 Wainwright Prize for nature writing for The Guardian, Alison Flood noted that more and more people are turning to this genre as 'a balm for the woes of modern life'. The article explains how the genre has evolved and subdivided and reached a popular new sub-genre, in which nature writing is used as a tool for reflection and deep personal healing. Despite a shortlist containing nature writing in a variety of styles, the judges unanimously voted for The Outrun to win, in which author Amy Liptrot returns to her home in Orkney in order to recover after a traumatising time living in London.

Dame Fiona Reynolds - chair of judges - said of the books: “[They show us that] there’s more to life than the economy, or foreign policy – these writers are articulating beautifully the ways in which the human spirit needs to connect with the world around us, and to respect the world around us.”

Are we collectively beginning to remember something buried deep within us? Times are changing, souls are stirring, beliefs are shifting; and these books, this award, is the most mainstream recognition of this that I have come across.

As humans, we were never meant to be at war with Nature, as if She were an enemy to conquer. And yet this is exactly what we have done; we have denied that we are a part of Her, out of fear for Her power, unpredictability and for Her destructive potential. How ironic that in the process of trying to suppress and tame these qualities in our outer world we have exaggerated them within ourselves. How ironic that in trying to create outward order we have thrown our souls into chaos. For centuries we have systematically severed an integral part of ourselves, and gradually we are opening our eyes to the need to draw it back together.

The journey contained in the pages of these types of books is a holistic one, where the mind, spirit and body are healed by reuniting them again. I am well aware that at this point there is a temptation to roll your eyes and think of those Instagram posts of slim white women on a yoga calendar and juice detox - and I believe that there is a place for that type of healing journey, it is totally valid, but also that this branding (yes, we are self-branding our lives here on social media!) of the journey does not resonate with a vast majority of us, our bodies, our experiences, and we need to see it mirrored in different ways in order for it to strike that all important chord.

And yet most of us will have felt that deep sense of peace after a day in the garden or allotment, digging or planting, hands at work in the earth. Or that inner smile when we've treated our bodies right, by feeding it nutritious food or simply by allowing it to relax and not pushing it too hard. Whether in a book jacket, an Instagram post, or a bowl of porridge instead of bacon for breakfast, we are exploring this reconnection. The trick now, as we hear the call and the pull from a variety of places both in the outer world and from little nagging inner parts, is to listen and act.

I'm a Reiki healer, and I could talk your ear off about energy layers and the interconnectedness of everything. I'm a reader and writer and I could bang on and on about these books and why you should read them. But above and beyond everything I say or believe I am, I am a human being, and you are too, and so I know that I don't need to say anything else. Because I know that if you choose to take some time to go into the wild, into Nature - and I mean really do it, not just look at it through a car window - and you get your clothes a bit muddy or your skin a bit scratched and your hair knotted in the wind and you inhale deeply...you won't need to read any books or any blog posts to understand exactly what they are saying and understand the inherent truth beyond the words.

A Gypsy shaman's interpretation of Sleeping Beauty

We Borrow the Earth fell off a shelf in a charity shop as I reached up to replace a book next to it. The title was captivating - so I decided the book had chosen me. I knew to ignore what I'd previously heard about Gypsy culture and tradition - the stories were likely overly romanticised and mysticised accounts - and aimed to read without preconceptions as far as possible. Patrick Jasper Lee's personal experiences and thoughts about his culture and history were fascinating and written in a very engaging manner. As a practising Gypsy shaman he has a deep relationship with the Earth, and a lot of his thoughts about our ruptured relationship with our natural world resonated with me.

But I was truly delighted to find he had expressed opinions on fairy tales and their importance in our (imaginative) lives - I'm not sure how often I've read interpretations that haven't been from a Western academic perspective. Below, I've shared Lee's thoughts on Sleeping Beauty.

'La belle au bois dormant' by manu4-20-5 @ dA

"It saddens me to think just how much we have pushed the fairy-tale world underground, this beautiful magical world which once fashioned everyday life and the initiations of our deeper past in Europe. But a student of mine once said to me, 'These Romani teachings of yours reawaken the Sleeping Beauty within me.' This comment could simply sound like romantic fantasy, but it touches the very heart of the Romani shamanic journey. The lady who spoke these words was French, but this phrase also says a good deal about the spirit of the imagination which once thrived in western Europe and which is now very much like a great and beautiful princess, sleeping within us, and also beneath us within the Earth."

'The Sleeping Beauty' by KmyeChan @ dA

"Long ago, Sleeping Beauty, a spirit recognisable to all of us who have European roots, came under the spell of a wickedly clever fairy, whose spirit worked through many gullible sorcerers. These sorcerers threatened to kill the beautiful princess - or to take the beauty of the imagination away. The princess would prick her finger when she was 18 - civilised life would be a test for this natural spirit, nine being a crucial number for testing the soul of a great princess - and she and all her people would fall into a deep sleep in which they would know nothing of their older life, until a handsome prince found his way to the castle, kissed the princess and woke her. Then they would all live happily ever after - or reunite with their imaginative lives again. I believe we are still in that deep hypnotic slumber in our physical world, together with the beautiful Earth spirit, or princess of our land, and I believe that this seemingly eternal sleep affects us when we journey."

'Wild Nocturne' by lauraborealisis @ dA

"The Sleeping Beauty was thus a sad tale expressing the story of the Bari Weshen Dai, 'the Great Forest Mother', who was a beautiful feminine spirit residing in the forests of Europe. Her fate was sealed when the spell was cast. And she still now sleeps, entombed beneath the Earth, and also within us. Interestingly, in the French language The Sleeping Beauty is called La belle au bois dormant, 'The Beauty of the Sleeping Wood'!"

'Forest Thinking' by jslattum @ dA

"I often tell students who come to learn the craft of Romani journeying how we can take on the role of the handsome prince who kisses this beautiful lady. For a greater part of us is sleeping along with her, as we are all entranced by the spell. But when she wakes, in the future, we will wake too, and she will wake, because that is her fate also. No bad spell can last forever. The 'good' image must inevitably follow the 'bad' one! And we will eventually outwit the one who created this powerful soul-numbing slumber. Who knows what will happen when the Sleeping Beauty finally wakes!"

'Spiritual Journey' by Tamura @ dA

"The journey I conduct with students around the theme of waking the Sleeping Beauty is always one of the most important journeys, for it serves to rekindle the student's relationship with Puv, the Earth Spirit, via the Bari Washen Dai. It can help to develop essential assertiveness and also direction."


Patrick Jasper Lee, We Borrow the Earth: An Intimate Portrait of the Gypsy Shamanic Tradition and Culture (London: Thorsons, 2000), 222-224.

Tales from the Wild Wood

Whilst on my writing hiatus here I was planning some new posts for my forest series...however in that time the wonderful Terri Windling has been posting her Into the Woods series, which I encourage you all to read. I've lost my motivation and my ideas, but never mind! Her posts are beautiful and inspiring.

For my final forest post I would simply like to draw your attention to a fascinating and entertaining series I have just discovered on BBC 4: Tales from the Wild Wood. It follows a year long project bringing an abandoned woodland back to life, trying to make it valuable for the 21st century.

Source

Let nature be your teacher

Ah, I feel the shift! The leaves have begun to change colour, the temperature has dropped, and the first crisp chills have started to hang in the morning air...

by IgnisFatuusll @ dA

I'm sure I say it every year, and with every change in season...but I feel as though I must carry on sharing this feeling, because it is just too uplifting and inspiring to contain! I want to be out connecting with nature and finding inspiration in the wild places! I want to find a way to capture all the feelings of autumn in words! I love the way everything is on fire, and yet it can be so cold...it's magical!
Each year my birthday becomes more and more entwined with celebrating the first day of autumn, as I can welcome in the new season along with a new year of my life. Perhaps that explains why autumn is my favourite season - I'm an autumn baby!

As I am struggling to express all my crazy nature-loving feelings, and as I am using far too many exclamation marks in proportion to the number of words on the page, I've included a poem by William Wordsworth who, as always, says it best...

THE TABLES TURNED

AN EVENING SCENE ON THE SAME SUBJECT

        UP! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
          Or surely you'll grow double:
          Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
          Why all this toil and trouble?

          The sun, above the mountain's head,
          A freshening lustre mellow
          Through all the long green fields has spread,
          His first sweet evening yellow.

          Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
          Come, hear the woodland linnet,                             
          How sweet his music! on my life,
          There's more of wisdom in it.

          And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
          He, too, is no mean preacher:
          Come forth into the light of things,
          Let Nature be your teacher.

          She has a world of ready wealth,
          Our minds and hearts to bless--
          Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
          Truth breathed by cheerfulness.                             

          One impulse from a vernal wood
          May teach you more of man,
          Of moral evil and of good,
          Than all the sages can.

          Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
          Our meddling intellect
          Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:--
          We murder to dissect.

          Enough of Science and of Art;
          Close up those barren leaves;                               
          Come forth, and bring with you a heart
          That watches and receives.

Fairie-ality

Once upon a time, during a balmy summer in the Kent countryside, I tiptoed carefully through gardens, paddocks, forests and orchards in search of bark chips, ivy vines, soft white feathers and fallen petals; I was hunting for the materials to create my very own fairy dress, inspired by Fairie-Ality from the House of Ellwand...

© David Ellwand, 2001

I must have been about 13, but I so vividly remember the way the excitement and passion bubbled in my stomach, it might as well have been yesterday. I wasn't just keen to make a dress: for one month only I was an escaped Londoner, and I was convinced not only that I could make fairy clothes, but that I could find a little someone to wear it whilst I was in the countryside. The chances of finding a fairy in the Big Smoke seemed slim. 

Some people will laugh to think of a teenager believing in fairies, but I grew up on a diet of fairy tales and adventure stories, and none of them ever took place in a city. I associated the countryside, any countryside, with the storybook worlds of my youth.

I never did make that dress. My desire was far greater than my ability (I could just about sew a felt purse together at that age.) But the magic was - is - still there. All you have to do is open the 'catalogue' and let it immerse you.

Recently I discovered David Ellwand's other related work - the Fairie-ality Style book of interior design. This caused all the above happy memories of nature-treasure hunting to come back to me, and when I found out he lives in West Sussex, one county over from where I live, it made me want to embrace the countryside around me so much more, and use it as inspiration in my work (hence quite a few previous posts about how inspirational nature really is.)

Click below to see more images from Ellwand's website, which I urge you all to explore...

Surreal, unreal

This morning I woke up in that surreal, unreal time, when it was light but not yet day. It would have been the morning version of twilight - does this have a name?
I emerged into a still world of grey light at 4:45 AM, and I stood in the garden breathing in the sweet, early-morning air. I heard the first bird make a sound. It soon became a peace-shattering cacophony of noise, which definitively bridged the gap and declared it day. 


I savoured my moment in this transitional time. The rain overnight had encouraged dozens of slugs and snails to come out and eat my plants, but it didn't bother me as much for some reason. I can't blame them; dew-covered shoots and leaves look far more appealing than dry ones. It felt magical to stand surrounded by such slow forms of nature, which seemed incredibly active and busy in relation to the stillness everywhere else. There was silence from the tracks and from the road - the trains had not started running, and I couldn't hear a single bus or car despite living on the main road into the city. And no drunken shouts. Just the growing din of seagulls to remind me that I do in fact live in a big coastal city.


It's as if the world was tucked safely in its bed, and there was time to discover its secrets in this little chink of time between night and day...

by kaasutii @ dA

I don't find 'the witching hour' particularly significant, but this time seems to hold an infinite amount of power. It played tricks with my mind. I thought I heard bells or wind chimes, but the air was still, and none of the neighbours have any hung up. I'm sure I smelt toast when I got out of bed. And were those little footprints on the dew-matted grass?


It has been a long time since my mind has felt so active, or so inspired. I should not have gone back to bed. I should have stayed up and written more than I did. Whilst everything around me was still I felt so alive, and like I was meant to be there experiencing it all - I wrote with ease, with instinctive voice, and with honest passion. Nothing felt forced. I didn't feel worried, stressed, or like a fraud; everything about me and what I was doing felt natural. It felt right.


Some people say you should write first thing in the morning. Others say at night. Others say whenever you have a free moment in the middle of your hectic day. I say: write when you feel the magic, because you will be the most true to yourself.

Break, break, break

Break, Break, Break 

Break, break, break,       
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter         
The thoughts that arise in me. 

-Alfred, Lord Tennyson 

When I first moved to Brighton two summers ago I spent so much time by the sea. I felt so free and relaxed listening to the waves, and it seemed like my best creative ideas popped into my head when I was in the water.  Perhaps it was inspired by change, but I also think that the raw power of nature played a part. Recently, it has been green spaces that draw inspiration from me; parks, gardens, forests...earth instead of water. 


I want to spend more time outdoors, now. I have been reading stories that draw so much inspiration and feeling from the landscapes in which they are set, where characters live and breathe their surroundings, and I've missed having that connection. It makes me feel alive; and reading it in books makes the characters and the stories come to life (and, frustratingly, they feel like they are living more than me, sitting with a book curled up on the sofa with a cup of coffee!)


A few examples off the top of my head of some books that I think do this more than others:

• Wide Sargasso Sea - Jean Rhys (various Caribbean locations)
• Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte (Yorkshire Moors)
• When God Was a Rabbit - Sarah Winman (Cornwall)
• The God of Small Things - Arundhati Roy (Kerala, Southern India)