lessons

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Lammas Lessons

Lammas/Lughnasadh Blessings!

The harvest season is upon us, and has started weeks ago here in Suffolk, East Anglia. The fields of wheat began to be taken in by the combine harvesters mid-July, and the sound of machinery in the distance has been part of our daily routine now, and has also gently lulled us to sleep. Tractors abound on the small country roads, and driving around can sometimes be a hair-raising experience. But harvest is here, and we are thankful.

The wheat is again very small this year, as this is the third year of drought. No rain in the spring and early summer, and now that it’s time to take the crops in, now we get the rain. This makes it difficult for the farmers to harvest, as this is a crop that needs to be dry when being taken in. Challenges lie ahead, and not just for the farmers.

Our climate is changing, due to global warming. It’s up to us to act now, but I probably didn’t need to tell you that. Everything that we do, no matter how small, makes a difference if the majority of people do it. We can’t leave it to governments to regulate – they have too much of a vested interest in the status quo financially. The revolution must start at home, in quiet but effective ways.

I’ve always loved the word, revolution. Thinking about it from a Pagan context, I see the Wheel of Life revolving, bringing change. As the popular chant goes, She changes everything She touches, and everything She touches changes. The Wheel turns, and we learn with each revolution how better to live on this planet, hopefully getting wiser with the more information that we have to hand. Hopefully.

It’s always at harvest-time that I feel the strongest turn in the Wheel of the Year. Perhaps it’s because my favourite season is approaching, and the culmination of the dreams that we had in the winter and the seeds planted in the spring are now coming to fruition. We see the results of our work. It’s that tangible evidence that helps us to evolve,  to revolve, to become our best selves that we can be in this moment in time. Our souls are revolving along with everything else on the Wheel, and change is always immanent. Nothing stays the same. It’s up to us to make this change one that is positive, rather than seeing to our own destruction.

And so this Wheel’s revolution has laid bare many things that have long gone hidden, unnoticed, or uncared for here in this part of the world. Our government’s hypocrisies, lies and incapability have been laid bare for all to see, and hopefully a great change will come with the next election. We see the weather changing dramatically all across the world, and also in our own home region as well, knowing that we must be the change we want to see in the world. The harvest is in, and it is not a good one. If we are to survive, we must learn this hard lesson that the world is providing us.

I can see ways in which, in my own life, changes need to be made and will be made, starting immediately. Lammas and harvest time is the best time to take stock of how your life is going, where it is going and how you can change it so that your future harvests will be bountiful. You have the capability to change yourself, for no one can do it for you. The responsibility lies with each of us as individuals, and not just in governments, corporations and big business. Small changes, made on a mass scale, can make a difference.

As I walk the newly harvested fields, the dried stumps of this year’s crop all that remains, I reflect on my place in the world. What can I bring to nourish the next season, the next generation? What can I do to change my world?

From here on the Suffolk Coast, I wish you harvest blessings.

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Lessons from a River

IMG_1505 (800x600)Sitting on the edge of the North River where I grew up, I feel the energies of the water’s flow, the water molecules and its soulsong moving through the landscape and through my own soul. Known for its rapids, it attracts many visitors in the spring (when its wild rush from snowmelt takes the breath away) and in the autumn (when the trees’ fiery colours blaze against the white foam). There are many places to sit amidst the rapids when the water is low enough, and that’s where most people like to sit, right in the heart of the dramatic whirl and rush of water as it crashes, engulfing the senses until you can hear nothing but water, water, water.

But it’s not here that I like to sit – I much prefer to be at the bottom of the rapids, where the drama ends and then there’s a flat stillness, where the bubbles and foam slowly pop as they moves downriver, the surface reflecting the trees and sky above. I sit on a rock and feel the rush of movement to my right, the great dramatic unfolding of the rapids. To my left is utter stillness, where the ducks and gulls are fishing. Right before me is where the two meet, slowing into stillness, settling into another current of energy. Where edges meet there is great power and learning.

I turn my head to the right and look back up to the rapids, and see my own thoughts as the rocks that the waters of my soul crash up against time and again, causing the water to explode high into the air or tumble in whirlpools, hitting one rock and then another on its way down. Those rocks are someone who still tries to upset, annoy, or undermine me and I smile to those rocks, compassion flowing though my soul and the through the landscape towards that person as I see their own personal suffering, even though I long ago decided I wouldn’t stick around for further abuse. I see my physical limitations, my body slamming against the rocks of rheumatoid arthritis and perimenopause, and the hidden rocks within my genes that may surface one day as breast cancer or high blood pressure. I smile to these rocks as well, knowing that even as I crash against them I am still moving around them, ever downriver towards the calm when there are no more rocks. I see a myriad of thoughts that my brain crashes against, creating dramas and I smile to all of these rocks, turning my head to follow the flow and see ahead of me where it begins to settle, as I settle upon my rock watching the willow leaves fall around me and into the river, a heron flying past.

I see that water is water, whether it is still or riding on great foaming crests that reach many metres into the sky. The water that roils is the same water that settles, and when all the obstacles are taken away it resolves to a beautiful and serene flat plain that reflects everything around it. Through meditation and compassion, integration with the world around me, seeing the soul behind the soul and the true nature of all existence, I too settle and reflect the world around me, a calm and peace from deep within. Though there may be more rapids ahead, I know the nature of water and of my own soul, for they are one and the same.