Cry me a river; cleansing the pollution of water

Posted on Oct 16, 2022 in Healing, Spiritual living

Rivers and all water was sacred to the Celts. They knew water was the source of all life, so it was closely associated with the goddess, birth, and the gateway to the Otherworld. It was appropriately honoured and appreciated as such. The current mass pollution of water happening worldwide couldn’t be further away from this natural philosophy. In the ancient Welsh story How Culhwch Won Olwen, the salmon (specifically the Salmon of Lyn Llyw) was sought out for advice on a vital quest because it was known as the oldest and wisest of all animals.

Reweaving the basket; a poem

Posted on Sep 29, 2022 in Poetry, Uncategorized

I was inspired to write this poem after reading Ursula Le Guin’s wonderful article, “The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction“, and imagining a return to harmony with the earth and her natural cycles. So here is Reweaving the basket:

“Never put all your eggs in one basket,” so they say,
But the Goddess knew what she was doing when
She placed us carefully into the wide woven bowl
That rested on her swelling belly.

Effective spirituality: being an active agent

Posted on Sep 15, 2022 in Spiritual living, Uncategorized

I’ve been dwelling a lot recently on the question of how to bring spiritual values and ethics back into the material infrastructure of a world gone mad with greed and lust for individual gain. While I feel the measurable impact of the energy and vibration work done by all spiritual workers, I find myself longing for a more effective spirituality. How do we make soulfulness more active in shaping the new earth we choose to co-create? How do we emerge from the fringes and claim an influential place at the centre of things? We have to find a way to embed soul into every sphere of society and the way we live, to breathe it into every aspect of life with love but also with dynamic and inspiring credence.

Owning the crone; becoming a woman elder

Posted on Sep 12, 2022 in Spiritual living, Uncategorized

I woke recently with a vivid image from childhood still imprinted on my mind. It was of my beloved Nan’s arthritically misshapen hands, plunged into a creamware bowl of flour and butter. That promising scent of deliciousness to come, the one I’d been present to so often when baking with her, still teased my nose as I floated gently back to full consciousness. It might not seem immediately obvious, but for me it was a clear indication of another move towards owning the crone and becoming a woman elder.