noo bouffant… transPlant… follicle profusion… as the sanskrit proverb: ‘ALWAYS trust a man with lettuce on his head’
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Elderflowers and wild Roses, the fragrant pong, the mood of early june its been an emotionally turbulent time, sorrow, but also huge dollops of fun, dancing, there is usually dancing! i’m impressed by the beautiful fickleness of the human soul… sometimes tears in the morning, yet laughter later… allow to flow through… wind harp we are so versatile, intricately tuned lots of root chakra stuff for me… being outside and in the body, a balm… smelling salts, counterbalance, to powerful thought only when grounded, tethered can the heart truly flourish. peace x
a magenta man in a mulberry top before a pink hawthorn… violet beauregarde!!! back from a jog, so many thoughts in one small noggin, good to let them go to ground through brute physique… more cussin’ than runnin’
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impressive smoking from the mighty vangelis (who died a few days ago)
bask in this, the bliss of your perpetual, preposterous blossoming ‘YOU, you are beautiful’ this the whispered rhapsody of the May of course the mind will quibble, it’s usual, mostly useless, toothless worrying consider this, from the first split of an amoeba, an unbroken line flowing to, and then, through you onwards! a billenia of success and flourishing the human line, the babe so helpless, so vulnerable, survival is through being cosseted, cocooned… nurtured true for our mothers, fathers, endless ancestors, this domino topple down the generations we are the CRESCENDO, the culmination of love Incantation… how many angels are dancing on the head of a pin? who cares… but I know for certain that you are one of them. yo! pirhouette in your beauty says a man, with a medallion, in a grey polyester 70’s trackie top, branded with the logo of a company i once worked for, on a hill, above Kingston near Lewes
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ah, the body blossoming, one of my more palatable ‘visions’ from an attempted vipassana (i left in a euphoric froth of madness on day 7 or possibly 8 ) a teaching on ephemera, every iota, all material phenomena are perpetually arising and then falling from being transfixed, a winters twilight afternoon, lost on a bench in the woods and saw, then felt, that it was so the body, endless, ecstatic Rose pink flowers bask in this, the bliss of your perpetual, preposterous blossoming
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Abi: I was just pondering the rhapsody of May and of course you have worded it so beautifully
thanks love, ever entranced by the miracle of being outside at this time of year, impossible, for me at least, not to try and summon some sense of it in words tho not saying i always get it right… hope you enjoyed your own poem, and that all goes swimmingly! hug xx
stitchwort… louche on the verge, sprawled and bedraggled amidst the hedgerow spotted these a few days back, near an ancient thatched house, down a narrow lane in east devon… away in the distance the Rust Red sandstone sea stacks of Ladram bay, more the aboriginal desert dust of Uluru than the green, sog-fest of the west country in days gone by, this plant, i would lazily ascribe as daisy! but, take a snap, then later look it up in a wild flowers spotters guide… a gift from daughter yonks ago… slowly, slowly, expanding circles of knowledge, when we yoke creativity, and nature, with wisdom… we become unstoppable! a thought which, ha, occurs to me walking home from this mornings jog, a long long queue outside the drive-in mcdonalds, smell of fried flesh and petrol fumes in the air… its not really going that well?
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….. stitchwort, such a beautifully prosaic anglo saxon name, no flummery, all stomping about in hob nail boots, a culture so deeply embedded in nature, so intricately connected, that there would be no point in wonder yet, with my love for pomp and the absurd curlicues of words, guess i would have been inside, blessing of clericism? indeed the latinate… ‘Stellaria’… a star flower… 5 petals, deeply bifurcated, so, the double pentacle, a ten pointed star! ooh a nine pointed star would be the enneagram, but am unaware of the symbology for ten anyway, two posts, broadly for earth day, glut, clearly of wafflesome disposition!
planting up a few tomato seedlings… earth day, blessing from the empress, abundance to all walk on the sacred earth beneath the broad expanse of sky…. our birthright being outside, in nature, with people we love… connection to body, land and each other ………. toms grown from last years seed slobber, love the closing of these circles nettle tapenade for lunch, yum… i’m calling it tapenade as, happily, i have no idea what the word means!
Esther: I have these Angel cards too! Don’t have much spare time to draw them these days but you’ve reminded me to do a reading for myself 👼 xx
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Aw I’m sure your so hugely busy all the blooming time! Hope you find some peace amongst the bedlam… plus occasional appreciation of how joyful it is… my nippers are 25 and 21 now… proper bonkers xx
I actually really like these cards… I read tarot for years, but kind of came to a pause with it, as tho, obvs, powerful wasn’t always in the right space to integrate some of the darkness These are proper fluffy, love the illustrations and lots of buoyancy Most of the cards make me think of someone I know… this lady/empress does too… tho can’t quite work out which of my friends she is?! Ha! Hug xx
in the realm of cernunnos, the horned god a drab day, an inconsequential copse, away on the cusp of the downs. yet even then, is there anywhere you’d rather be than a british woods in the idyllic throes of spring? a white carpet of wood anemones bob their heads beneath the breeze… birds flit, a warble of rapture hawthorn and elder flush fresh with leaf everywhere the froth of life, thin skein. green i love this place, partly for the fact so few people bother to come here all the paths are stopped. toppled trees from the great winters storm upheaval. upended… vertical becomes horizontal the roots claw scrabble down in the chalk. amongst the flint … not deep enough to withstand the barge and shove of air i hunker down, these roots, a fungal earthen smell, gone to ground… a selfie, trying to conjure the trunks as cernunnos horns? not quite next… bum shuffled along the trunk, over the crisp crackle lichen, till perched 10 ft above the path… legs a dangle. that’s plenty high enough for me! with the breeze, occasionally the trunk thrums, a wave of vibrations move upwards, and then through my body dragons of earth, dragons of air i sit, still, thoughts settle then subside ………
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emerging from the trees there’s a view of the abrupt white cliffs of seaford head, the spire of St Michael Newhaven peeks above the ridge away, far down the valley, the silhouette of the Castle and the spire of St Michael Lewes the archangel Dragon slayer! doubled. The worm would have plummeted to earth somewhere along this ridge? I look for a long barrow? but none I know of nearer than on the hill above Alfriston curious to think that, back in the neolithic, before the coming of sheep, all the downs would have been lightly wooded… a liminal space of dread the path follows the sight line, directly downhill to the church in piddinghoe and there in a stained glass window, clasped in a golden chalice, i find the baby dragon!
written quickly, coz thats fun too!
oh and i’ve got in the habit of writing respectful, but mildly eccentric words, in church visitors books… give it a go!
i love this site… you can zoom in anywhere and find all the barrows and ancient listed buildings wherever you care… lewes is an utter glut!
