Being in london for a while longer, I miss the wilderness of Capel Curig, north Wales. Capel Curig has such a wild-peace about it, and London by contrast is hectic. And, right now, though I miss the solitude, London is where I am. However, it is an amazing city.
The drawback is that it can be overwheleming, and ‘up close and personal’. It can be full of disctractions which pull you in competing directions, and yet for myself, one who loves the countryside and the lights of London, an ‘amphibian’, London is a wonderful, inspiring city.
But, oh the distractions. It’s easy to forget to ask those big questions, easy to forget to pause and ponder, easy to forget why each one of us is here. In London, a crowded city of eight million souls all of that is so, so easy. I am surmising it may be the same where you are (sometimes)?.
We can get so busy ‘doing’, instead of ‘being’.
We can get distracted.
We forget.
Status?
Here’s a poem I write some time ago, revisited.
Poem: Become The Duet
If we were to travel from the wild, ruggedness of Capel Curig,
near the foothills of Yr Wyddfa,
that place of green, of open-space, of dragons, myth and power;
Myrddin’s lair.If we were to travel to the busy-ness of Old London,
that place of the ancient river of the Celts,
of crowded streets, of neon lights, Druid-energy and oh-so many people,
the Voice can be heard.If we were to pause,
wherever we are, just for one moment,
to revel in life that is happening around us, to us, in us, through us,
we would hear the Voice.Distractions come,
and a distancing from all that is natural seems to happen.
But, only seemingly, so.
The Voice that spoke creation into being,
thunders in the wilderness, whispers in built-up places,
but speaks, still.
The Voice can be heard, if….
…if we have ears to hear.If we would but listen to the music of our life,
our body would sway in time to the primal beat of times of old.
If we would but gaze at beauty around us,
our mind would laugh crazily with delight at the colours seen.
If we would but ponder, and feel deep within our soul
the love-song of the Friend,
then we would know the reason why we are here.Become the duet.
In a few weeks time it will be Alban Elfed (which is Welsh for ‘the light of the water), and it is the second and final harvest of the year (for those of us in the northern hemisphere. It’s one of my favourite times of the year.
As you know, I like to write poetry, and in the past have done so for the time of the full moon. As well as previous moon poems, and the last few days writing here about celebrating today’s full moon, here’s a poem for this particular full moon.
In just over a week there will be a full moon. I know that to ancient and latter-day Celtic-Christians, Druidic-Christians, Druids and others the full moon was and is significant. Some, today, may focus more on the new moon, but for me, it is the full moon (and without judging others) that is important for ritual and celebration, or for just taking time to pause and gaze up at it in awe.
In life we witness and experience the great circle – the ebb and flow of the Spirit. In this world, and indeed, in this life all is in a state of flux. Everything changes. Therein lies hope. It’s summer. The circle turns, and it will soon be autumn and then winter. The circle turns, still, and winter becomes spring and so on. Ebb and flow. The following can be a(n enacted) poem, or liturgy for a ritual or service, or words for you to ponder upon in solitude, in gratitude of nature’s bounty and the Great Provider behind it all.
I know it’s a little early (only by a few weeks), but I couldn’t resist but ‘air’ it now. On a few occasions in the recent past I’ve used ancient Gaelic tunes and re-wrote the words to express modern-yet-ancient Celtic, Celtic-Christian, Druidic-Christian, Druid etc liturgies and/or hymns.
We live in a universe full of vibrant colour, and though we can only see part of the spectrum, what we can see is wonderful in its beauty.
The Summer Solstice, known to the Druids of old in the Welsh language as ‘Alban Hefin’ (which means ‘the light of the shore’) is almost upon us.
As you know I really like the traditional haiku – short poems consisting of three lines, and the lines containing firstly five syllables, then seven, then five.
This Sunday it is fifty days since Easter and in the calendar of some people that makes it Pentecost. To others, it’s about three weeks to the summer solstice (and the time when I shall be joining my Christian/Celtic-Druidic Brethren and Druids (and others) at Stonehenge) and a time of preparation and looking forward.