The Caim 3: In Times Of Ecological Distress

20180716 THE CAIM 3 IN TIMES OF ECOLOGICAL DISTRESS

We live in a world where ecological distress occurs, weather patterns are changing, manmade disasters occur and animals are becoming extinct.

Closer to home: For some days fire fighters have been tackling a fire on Wanstead Flats, a large open expanse of land in Redbridge in east (well probably north-east) London. At one point some 220 fire fighters were fighting the ‘scrub’ fire. The weather in the UK, at least for the last three weeks has been unusually hot, very hot and dry, and although the cause of the fire is unknown, the blaze is significant and worrying.

Fire commissioner Dany Cotton said she was ‘praying for rain’ as long-lasting hot weather is creating favourable conditions for wild fires.

Prayer for rain?

What follows is a simple Caim ritual for an individual, but a ritual, nevertheless, full of power, with an ecological ‘challenge’ in mind that you might consider using (and adapting to suit your requirements, concerns). The Caim, as previously mentioned, is a ‘circling’ ritual and the circle was/is very much part of the daily life and ritual of ancient and latter-day Celts, Druids, Christians and others. This Caim is a ritual for rain for Wanstead Flats in London, but can be adapted for use by you, elsewhere.

As I stand in a candle-lit the room, I quieten my mind.

After a few minutes, I take the staff I brought from the Isle of Iona, and use it to point to the floor, gently scribing a circle on the carpet.

I start off by facing east and slowly turn 360 degrees, clockwise, to cast the Caim. On this occasion the circle is not visible or marked out by rocks or pebbles but is in my mind’s eye. It is sufficient. At each of the cardinal points I pause, momentarily. Eventually I am facing north, and on this occasion turn to face east once again– the direction of Wanstead Flats from my location.

Ceremonial separation and the casting of the Caim has been achieved.

Previously, I had selected the Merlinite palmstone and put in on the small table within the Caim circle.

There are some who believe that palmstones have inherent power, others that such rocks are alive and posses a soul that can impart power, others hold that each rock has a guardian elemental that can be of use, others that intentionality can invoke or ‘borrow’ power from on High, some advocate that it is (just) a ‘tool’ to be used in a meaningful ritual, and there are others who accept that the ‘jury is out’ and all that matters is that it seems to work. Ritual is important

’We not only nurture our sacred relationships through ritual, but we are nurtured by them as well. In ritual, we move, and we are moved.’ Alison Leigh Lilly

Merlinite, also known as Dendritic Agate is an interesting rock. Many believe it is so-called as it is named after the wizard Merlin (Myrddin Emrys in Wales), and because of the stone’s ability to attract mystical and magical experiences to anyone who wears it.

It is said by some to allows a connective relationship between ourselves our environment. So, the rock is very suited for any working with any environmental issue, and doubly-so as the overriding element for this stone is ‘storm’, and so it is very much associated with rain

And, so I picked up the Merlinite palmstone, and with it in my hand and held it close to my heart. I closed my eyes, and began to visualise, imagine, hold in my mind’s eye a ‘picture’ of the desired outcome: rain, and lots of it pouring from the sky onto Wanstead Flats. I could see it, hear it, almost feel it, as I visualised it. Under my breath I utter the word, ‘rain’. Words are important, too.

’The human voice is the organ of the soul.’ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

It is my belief that each one of us has access to untold power and energy, and that so often we are unaware of it. During times such as this, when invoking the power of the Caim, it is good to have in mind the source of such power. To me, I believe such power resides in the Source of All, who give to all ‘prodigally’. Others may have other ideas, but perhaps it is the case that we all see different facets of the One?

I raised my arms, opened them in the direction of Wanstead Flats, and waited for a few minutes.

What we ‘give out’ does ‘come back’, albeit in a different form. And, so having used words of power, invoking a blessing for Wanstead Flats in this Caim, I waited. The blessing does come back, almost instantly.

Feeling drained on energy, I paused. And, under my breath I said, ‘thankyou’ to the Source of All for the Source’s energy, and for the privilege of being a conduit for good.

The power part of the Caim ritual, the ‘standing in the gap’ has been completed.
Having accepted the blessing, I lowered my arms, and used the staff to scribe an imaginal circle on the carpet.

To close the Caim, some may like to reverse the direction they take, and move through the four cardinal points (perhaps, starting facing the east) in an anti-clockwise manner. You can choose the direction that is most fitting for you. Intentionality, after all, is all-important.

And, so I turned, holding the staff, and moving clockwise, I ‘scribed’ an invisible circle on the carpet as if to ‘erase’ the Caim circle formerly scribed.

And, then having closed the Caim, I walked about for the next few minutes as an opportunity to slowly, ceremonially, ‘come back’ to this realm, as an act of grounding.

Grounding, it is said, is the earthing of residual energy to the natural energy field of the earth. If you are not grounded you may feel dizzy, a little ‘spaced out’, or generally feel out of sorts. In any case, it is always a good idea to take a few minutes after any significant spiritual event to, slowly, attune yourself to ‘mundane’ time-space by taking it easy for a few minutes, and then by a taking part in a simple physical action eg walking, deep breathing etc for a minute or so. Grounding completed.

The Caim is versatile, and can be used as a ritual of protection for yourself or others, as a ritual for conferring blessings on others, seeking a remedy for an ecological ‘challenge’, as noted here in a Caim for rain for the ecological ‘distress’ of Wanstead Flats, London, for example. And, it can be used and adapted by you.

Other articles in this series are:  Caim 1: Personal Experience & Caim Essentials [Here], and Caim 2: Variations & Examples [Here].

 

A Walk In The Rain & More: Deep Thoughts…

201800514 A WALK IN THE RAIN AND MOREThe weather has been unusual of late. Very hot for days and the quite cool, dry for a time and then raining all day. Today started off sunny and then clouds tumbled from the mountains to the valley floor. And yet each valley, here in north Wales (and elsewhere) has its own micro-climate, and it is truly amazing. Unpredictable many times, but amazing.

‘For we know in part and we prophesy in part…For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.’ 1 Corinthians 13.9-13.12 Part, The Book

Balance? For thousands of years before the imprint of humankind was found in these valleys, there was a balance in the weather – slate-grey mountains ‘carpeted’ with lush grass, lichen and a myriad of insect life because of rain.

I weed and steward the small patch of earth called my garden, but nature does a far better, far richer, and far grander job of tending the ‘gardens’ that form vast undulating, majestic valleys, here.

’I’m stunned at how the choreography of fate is exquisitely disguised as chance.’ Mark Nepo

It rained recently, and I got caught out in it. Clearly, even being a native, I only know ‘in part’ what the weather will do, though I do pride myself on ‘reading’ the signs (and usually that is sufficient to predict something of what the weather is about to do).

Who am I to grumble? The Clerk of the Weather knows best, and watered that valley. I’m a cheery soul, but that on that particular occasion, far from home and sopping wet, it didn’t make me chuckle. Was it chance? An Intelligence? Fate? However, as I walked home, now seemingly a few pounds heavier wearing rain-sodden clothes and feeling colder, it reminded me of some awesome words of St Francis of Assisi.

Misreading (of the weather and its purpose)? Perhaps it wasn’t that I’d upset God (as if the Source of All works in that arbitrary way) or annoyed the genii loci or the fae as some here might have told me, that opened the skies; perhaps it was ‘just right’ and in that valley, out walking, I was ‘in the way’.

‘In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.’ John Muir

Nevertheless, the rain was a ‘quiet teacher’ to me on that occasion and I learned that it didn’t really matter who caused it, the result was the same, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Traversing the copse that leads to my garden and house, I couldn’t but help notice how much ‘brighter’ things looked, leaves glistened as if polished, the air seemed lighter, sounds clearer, and there was that lovely smell of rain on otherwise dried earth – petrichor. St Francis’ words continued to echo in the labyrinths of my mind, and a lightness from somewhere in my being bubbled up – but only very gently. Hardly noticeable.

And then my feet were firmly striding the rustic-style paving stones that stretched the length of my lawn, and I had to admit the rain was just what the lawn needed. It was a vivid green, looking great, ‘washed’ and baptised from above, and even those weeds seemed glad – ofcourse they were.

‘A weed is but an unloved flower. Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Perspective? And then into the house, through the kitchen door at the side (as very few use the front door here; and you can tell a friend because they, too use the side door that, here, leads into a small boot room and then into the kitchen. Peeling off my sopping wet clothes, and sitting in the kitchen to finally dry off, that earlier gentle bubbling from deep within became a full laugh. And I laughed heartily.

So I got caught in a downpour, a rain storm. Many people are far worse off than me, and in many parts of the world lots would be extremely grateful for several hours-worth of rain for washing (and now I was feeling washed and great), for drinking and cooking with, and for their fields and crops. In that simple rain shower there was more going on – visibly and invisibly, at the macro level and at the micro, cellular level; and perhaps in other realms unknown to us the rain was having a beneficial effect (even if I (or you) were (or are) unaware of it). I laughed even more. Nature is wonderful. Status? I suddenly felt humbled.

Awareness. And then, St Francis’ words tumbled fully to the front of my mind.

Such love does,
the sky now pour,
that whenever I stand in a field,
I have to wring out the light
when I get
home.

(St Francis of Assisi)

And, as I sat there, drying off, it came to me: that Which Is Bigger Than Us is present in the world, and in nature such power and wisdom is known and the mystery celebrated; that there is pain and suffering, and much inconvenience (in rain showers etc) and that mystery is usually (and eventually) accepted; and that come what may, in some way the Source of All makes all things, ultimately, beautiful and new, and there is much that is beyond our understanding.

‘Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.’ Roger Miller

And then, having dried off and put on a new set of clothes, as happens in the valleys, the sun started to shine and there was not a cloud in the sky. Nature is absolutely wonderful (and has a sense of humour, methinks).

 

Reflections On A Puddle: A Quiet Teacher At Drws I Fyd Arall

20180125 REFLECTION ON A PUDDLE A QUIET TEACHER AT DRWS I FYD ARALLI am back in Capel Curig in north Wales for a while. I’m outside, and have walked the relatively short walk from my little cottage, Tŷ Gwyn (pronounced ‘tee gwin’, meaning White Cottage or White House), to an area that, for years, has been known to me as Drws i fyd arall. It’s raining hard – the ‘gift’ of storm Georgina that is sweeping across the United Kingdom.

Soaked, I sit on a felled log. It’s still about half an hour before sunrise.

‘Drip down, O heavens, from above, and let the clouds pour down…’ Isaiah 45;8a, The Book

And I feel wonderful, expectant, in awe at the two, old, trees in front of me. I sat there looking at these two trees, so different to the others around them, as these two trees had grown in a way that they bowed towards each other to form an arch. As children we noticed this, and I and my friends had called these two arched trees Drws i fyd arall (pronounced ‘droo zi fid arrah’) which means ‘door to another world’. Such was the imagination of us children that we played endless games by jumping through the arched trees, and in our minds eye believed that we found  ourselves in strange new worlds. Star Gate, the tv series, was still many years in the future. We got their first!

For more about Drws I fyd arall in previous articles, see here, and here.

And, now I’m sitting in the middle of this delightful forest, in suitably rain-proofed attire, and though its cold and there’s a great wind – I’m protected from that wind by the high trees around me – but not so from the rain. It’s raining even harder, and I love it.

By my feet, raindrops converge into puddles, multiple puddles and some of them quite deep, and as the puddles fill up with rain some of them join together to form even large puddles around me; and for a moment I am mesmerised by the sight of the rain splashing on the forest floor and into puddles, and by the soothing, continuous, hypnotic patter of fresh, cold, wonderful rain.

‘If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water.’ Loren Eiseley

As I gaze at the large puddle in front of me, joining with another, and then being  ‘syphoned off’ into a larger deep depression on the ground inches to one side, I spied that water takes on the shape of that which it fills, and reshapes itself umpteen times, yet it still remains water.

‘I find inspiration in the movement of water. Sometimes I think about the journey the water has travelled, reconnecting me to the larger cycles of nature.’ Janet Echelman

How we could learn from water. If you’re like me, it is oh-so-easy to take on board the opinions of others sometimes; to be caught off guard and to be affected by their bad words and actions, and perhaps want to metaphorically strike back; or be adversely affected by ‘bad’ situations. Water is not changed by what it fills. It changes shape, but remains faithful to its nature. It loses nothing. How we could learn from water.

‘I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.’ John O’Donohue

Mark Nepo talks of this sort of awareness of nature. He calls them ‘quiet teachers’, for that is what they are: nature opening itself up to human awareness for the connection, which surely already exists, to be made understandable (at least in part) to us, in a quiet, authentic manner

And so this puddle, this ‘quiet teacher’, a puddle at Drws i fyd arall taught me that water adapts to fill the ‘shape’ of its surroundings, but remains faithful to itself.

And, in a ‘flash’ as I sat on that felled tree, I realised that, as humans, we are should (or perhaps, are encouraged, is a better way of putting it, to) adapt to situations in our daily life, albeit some tough events, or situations brought on by ‘difficult’ people, and yet remain faithful to our ‘humanness’, our core. It is possible to adapt and not take on board the negative ‘stuff’ around us.

And then, I experienced another ‘flash’ as if lightning had filled the sky: it dawned on me – our body and soul may be seemingly affected, but the lesson of this ‘quiet teacher’ was that that need not be the case, but it came to me that our soul, our being, our very essence is never affected by it at all – we just think it is. There is something in us that ‘higher’, still. And from ‘that place’, a place of Love, we can have compassion on others, and bear tough situations come what may.

I had to sit on the felled log for some time to ‘unpack’ those two ‘flashes’ of thought(s) from Beyond.

‘…the work of compassion: to embrace everything clearly without imposing who we are and without losing who we are.’ Mark Nepouiet