religion

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Listen

They key to understanding and compassion often lies in the art of listening.  Many people hear what you say, but not many truly listen.

Often, when we are “listening” to someone speak, we are already forming our own replies in our minds before the person has even finished speaking.  It is impossible to actually truly listen to what they are saying when we are doing so. I make a conscious effort to truly listen, and still occasionally slip up, catching myself and saying “Listen”.  And when the person has finished talking, and I’ve truly listened, then I reply, if the answer is worthy.

The art of listening, I fear, is dying.  It isn’t simply physical sound, but also when we read articles, books – other people’s words in any form – that misinterpretation can happen because we are not truly listening to them, as we are too involved in our own opinions and attachments to the subject matter.  After developing the art of listening, I find that I am reading books that I read a year or two years ago, and I am getting so much more out of these books, as I am simply paying more attention to the voice contained within the pages, and not my own.

I remember watching a parliamentary debate for the first time on television, and being astounded at the complete disregard there was for not only listening, but even hearing.  Party members would get maybe a sentence or two out before their opposing party made as much noise as possible, expressing their displeasure before the person had even finished speaking. I remember thinking “is this the way that adults really talk to each other?  No one can understand anyone else – what is the point?” It was rude and obnoxious, and saddened me that these were the people who were running the country.

Have you ever observed two young toddlers together, who haven’t learned to speak yet? More often than not, they will make noises and “talk” to each other, and the other will listen with rapt attention before replying.  I love this so much – how is it that we have forgotten this simple wonder of sharing and communication with another human being?

On the internet, it is even easier to misinterpret, to not listen, because most of the time we don’t even consider that the person we are talking to is even a real person – they are an abstraction, an online presence of the real person.  It allows for rudeness and trolling as well, which would, I hope, never happen in a real life situation with people you don’t even know (and worse if it is people that are known!). So many people will read a blog such as this, and not truly read it, but coming in with their own opinions, and without the art of listening, not really understand the message that is coming across.  In our dualistic society, we have cultivated a culture of Us and Them, and if you are not with Us, you must be with Them, therefore what you have to say is irrelevant – oh, and I’m going to comment on your post. Or worse, people skim read and then comment – it is as disrespectful as interrupting someone in mid-sentence, or a parliamentary debate.

We can develop the art of listening in the Spring, when all of nature is awakening to the returning warmth and sunlight, the life-giving rains and flows of energy that run through the land and our very own souls.  Go outside, and truly listen.  Don’t simply think “I hear birds”.  Really, really listen to each bird in the multitude, not merely hearing their song but truly listening.  You will find a connection with that soul, and from there meet the multitudes of other souls we share this little planet with. You will also step outside the chattering of the self and experience a world of so many souls you cannot even begin to count, giving a much bigger perspective of the world by stepping away from the self.

In Druidry, especially in the Bardic traditions, we learn the art of listening.  To play music, to sing a song, to tell a story, to recite history, to satire current affairs, we need to really know the subject, to take it deep within ourselves and make it a part of our own story before we can tell it with any sort of meaning.  In order to do so, we must first listen with every fibre of our being – not just with our ears, but with our hearts and souls as well. Imagine if you did this with everything – your cat, your next door neighbour, the rising moon, a politician, the spider on your wall.  Everything has a story worth telling, and worth listening to.

When we listen, we make a connection that transcends the superficial relationships that are so prevalent in today’s society.  We reach out, soul to soul, in love and in respect, with honour.  We don’t even have to like the person, but we can still do so honourably, acknowledging their words as expression of their souls, which is turn is an expression of everything in the universe.

It gives a whole new depth, a whole new dimension to explore, and is well worth the effort.

 

 

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A Most Excellent Book by Thich Naht Hanh

“Promise me, promise me this day, promise me now, while the sun is overhead exactly at the zenith, promise me: … Even as they strike you down with a mountain of hatred and violence; even as they step on you and crush you like a worm, even as they dismember and   disembowel you, remember, brother, remember: man is not your enemy.
The only thing worthy of you is compassion – invincible, limitless, unconditional.   Hatred will never let you face the beast in man.
One day, when you face this beast alone, with your courage intact, your eyes kind, untroubled (even as no one sees them), out of your smile will bloom a flower.
And those who love you will behold you across ten thousand worlds of birth and dying.
Alone again, I will go on with bent head, knowing that love has become eternal.
On the long, rough road, the sun and the moon will continue to shine.”
~Thich Nhat Hanh
Here is an article and book promotion of Thich Naht Hanh’s view on understanding our enemy, and working towards love and peace. http://mettarefuge.wordpress.com/2010/08/06/thich-nhat-hanh-can-we-understand-the-suffering-of-our-enemy/
Peace out. x
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A Day in the Life of a Druid

The alarm clock goes off, Aerosmith is playing on Planet Rock.  There is a small white cat lying between me and my husband, her little head resting on my pillow.  A spotted grey cat is curled up against the small of my back, sharing in the warmth.  My husband gets up, showers and comes back to kiss me goodbye.  I sigh, stretch, and slowly extricate myself from the sleeping, furry softness to greet the day.

Standing by the top landing window, overlooking my back garden and the horse paddocks beyond that, down the valley towards the little nature sanctuary, my eyes coming back full circle to see the sun, rising over the North Sea (I cannot see the sea from here, but it is less than a mile away).  I let its light wash over me – sunny mornings have been few and far between, and with eyes closed I drink it in.  “Hail to the Day, and Day’s Sons, farewell to Night and her Daughters. With loving eyes look upon us here, and grant peace to those living here. Hail to the Gods, hail to the Goddesses, hail to the might fecund Earth. Eloquence and native wit bestow upon us here, and healing hands while we live”.  Another deep breath,  and so the day begins.

Headings downstairs, I get food ready for the cats, and boil the kettle for my tea.  The cats slowly make their way downstairs to breakfast.  After getting my lunch ready, I prepare my own breakfast, and sit down at the table with a cup of nettle tea, the young nettles picked the day before.  “I give my thanks for this food I am about to eat.  To the spirits of land, sea and sky, know that you are honoured”.

After breaking my fast I head back upstairs to get ready for work.  Using toiletries that are from ethical companies, I grumble once again at the price of these organic, non-animal tested cosmetics, but then I catch myself.  It is better than the alternative, and I am saving money in other areas of my life, in accordance with my vow not to buy any new clothing for a year – I  can afford it.  I get my Zen on, and get on with it.

After dressing, I say goodbye to the cats and head out the door to drive to work. I give thanks that I am blessed in that I both live and work in the countryside. (I work part-time for a music company and charity, as well as having my own dance company and being an author and priestess).  On the drive to work, I like to listen to music, to hear the inspiration of others, yet to remain focused on my driving – winding slowly down country lanes, watching out for rabbits, hares and deer and the occasional oncoming tractor around the next blind bend.  The fields have been ploughed and seeded, the cotton canopies protecting those crops susceptible to late frosts.  The white blankets over the brown sandy soil glisten over the softly rolling hills, looking like little shining lakes in the distance.  I pray for a good crop this year, as last year’s winter was too dry, and the summer too wet. They are already 3 – 4 weeks behind schedule this year, with the prolonged winter weather.

At work, it is a busy time, but I try to stay focused, remaining in the here and now a much as I can, giving every task the same attention.  At one point, a colleague does not help me when I ask for it, moving heavy boxes to another location, and I feel anger rising within me.  I then breathe deeply, and another colleague from another department offers to help, for which I am thankful.  I move the boxes, and release the anger – I cannot expect people to behave the way that I think they should.  I can only lead by example, and not let it affect it so.

The day is tiring, and when home time comes I am thankful.  Physically and mentally tired, I walk back to my car, taking the time to decompress.  Where I work is one of the most beautiful spots, along the river with the reed beds swaying in the wind, the large Suffolk skies opening out before me.  I listen to the birds and breathe in the salt marsh air, and smile.

The drive home is in silence.  I open the car window slightly to feel the breeze against my skin and to smell the emerging spring scents.  I am wholly focused on driving, feeling the ground through the tires and the steering wheel, the sand that is slowly taking over the roads from being washed away from the fields over the winter.

I pull into the driveway of my home, and turn off the car engine, giving thanks once again.  Walking to my front door, I notice the crocuses, tulips, daffodils and primroses all out at the same time, stretching towards the late afternoon sun.  I too am going to stretch towards it.  I walk into the porch and, coming through the front door, touch the doorframe, whispering a soft prayer to my goddess Nemetona, Lady of Sanctuary.

After greeting my cats and feeding them, my growling stomach demands attention, and I eat, giving thanks once again to the spirits of land, sea and sky.  My husband comes home, and inside I smile at the welcome, comfort and love that I am blessed with.

After dinner I wrap up and head out into the backyard, walking around the perimeter, singing songs of welcome to the spirits of the land within my head.  Some bluebells, foreign plantings by the previous owner, are starting to come through alongside the daffodils, crocuses and tulips.  The irises are starting to recover and grow back after being munched by the muntjac deer early in the spring, and the lilies tipped with black edges along the leaves from frostbite.  The leylandii hedge is also suffering from frostbite, and I am not sure it will recover.  However, that is something to worry about when the time comes.

The apple trees have little buds on them, and the first frog spawn is in the pond.  I whisper words of welcome to the new little lives, hoping that the pond will not freeze again.  I know that little newts are secretly lying within the mud and leaves at the bottom of the pond, and wonder whether they will emerge this year.

The beech tree calls, and I go to sit under its majestic canopy, still bare but far-reaching.  The tree is about 80 years old, and I feel a kinship to it at this point in my life – it feels like a middle-aged tree, strong and comfortable within its skin.  I feel the edges of my nemeton touching the tree’s, noting where they meet and where they blend.  We are still getting to know each other, the tree and I, and little moments like these are splendid.

I sit by my little altar under the beech tree, on the mossy ground.  Placing my hands upon the ground, I feel the earth slowly stirring from the long winter slumber.  I simply sit, meditating upon being present, feeling the warming ground, hearing the children at play on the football fields several fields over, the neighbours saying goodbye to someone.  The blackbirds are singing and fighting over territory, and a little wren is looking for tasty morsels among the leaf mould.  The watery sun hangs low in the sky, the warmth fading fast as night approaches.

After my meditation, I head inside for a hot bath.  Sliding into the warm water I sigh with pleasure – the scents of chamomile and the soft oats feeding my skin and my senses.  I honour the spirit of water and think of where my water comes from, honouring that source as well, giving thanks for the luxury of clean, hot water.

After drying off, the sun is setting, and once again I stand by my window on the top landing, looking out over the little bit of land that I am getting to know after a few years of having lived here.  The light is fading, and the only birds are the blackbirds with their large eyes, singing in the dusk.  The owls and their young will soon be hooting in the ash trees, the cuckoo will soon be here, the crickets singing. I long for summer, then catch myself – be present.  I take a deep breath, and ground myself, centring on the here and now.  “Farewell to the Day, and Day’s Sons, hail to Night and her Daughters. With loving eyes, look upon us here, and grant peace to those living here. Hail to the Gods, hail to the Goddesses, hail to the might fecund Earth.  Eloquence and native wit bestow upon us here, and healing hands while we live.”

With pleasure I crawl into bed, cats coming to join me, and later my husband.  I read for a bit, and then when eyes are too tired, close the book and enter the world of dreams, thankful for all that I have.

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Paperback edition of new book now available!

Paperback version of my new book is out today – ebook will be ready soon! A big thank you to the Druid, Buddhist and Pagan community, who continually inspire me – may we be the awen!  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Pagan-Portals-Druidry-Natural-Awareness/dp/1780993900/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365503883&sr=1-1&keywords=zen+druidry

BOOK

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Some lovely reviews of my latest book, Zen Druidry!

“This is a fascinating book that lays out the core concepts of both Zen and Druidry, exploring the points of overlap and the ways in which these two traditions compliment each other. The writing is precise, lucid and beautifully accessible whilst managing to put across a vast amount of information in a very small space. I would say that even if you aren’t attracted to the idea of Zen, this book is still well worth your time, because of what it shows through the contrast between the two traditions. Joanna draws attention to the importance of being as present in the moment as we can be, and as open to life as possible. That’s an issue for Druids of all flavours to consider. Druidry is very much about here and now, and what we do from moment to moment, after all.

If you’ve been attracted to both traditions all along, this is, quite simply, the book you have been waiting for.” –  Nimue Brown, author of Druidry and the Ancestors and also Druidry and Meditation

 

“Back in the distant past when I was taking early steps along the Druid path, I was also studying Eastern ways – Buddhism, Daoism, Confucianism, Brahmanism, and the like. I stayed on the Druid path and became Druid because I better understood the imagery and symbolism which allowed me to better shape my own metaphysical stance. But I have never ceased to be a student of those other ways.

It was a pleasant surprise, therefore, to pick up this little book which outlines both Zen (a school of Mahayana Buddhism that developed in China during the 6th century) and Druidry (the modern name given to a spiritual path developed from that overseen by ancestral Druids) and shows how they can work together. It is a little book, so you might not expect too much of it. You will, however, be pleasantly surprised. It manages to pack a lot into its 74 pages, largely because it is written without fuss or pretensions – indeed, very much in keeping with the subject matter. That alone speaks to me about how valuable this little book is. The author not only knows her subject inside out, she clearly practises what she preaches.

I found the application of the Buddhist Eightfold Path to the eight annual festivals of the Druid way to be of particular interest. Meditation is important to Zen and I have long felt that following the ritual year is a form of extended meditation. And here we have an extra layer to contemplate, integrate, and practice as the seasons revolve.

The greatest connection between Zen and Druidry (for me, at least) lies in mindfulness. It is, perhaps, an attribute common to all spiritual paths, but it is of especial interest to those who recognise their rootedness in this world, who recognise that the worlds of spirit and matter are as integrated as everything else. From the extempore prayers said by Celtic peoples over everyday tasks and events, words that spring from an awareness of working in the now, to the formal ritual built up around significant events in the life of the planet, the individual, the family, and the community, a Druid needs to be mindful. But it goes well beyond word into every aspect of our being – our thoughts, our dreams, and our every action. All this is simply and powerfully highlighted by this book.

So what we have is an engaging and thoughtful introduction to a pertinent fusion of ideas. A book which beautifully illustrates that when you strip away the fluff, the images, and the symbols there is very little that is different between the paths. And whilst it is something you could read at a single sitting (as I did), it is worth revisiting on a regular basis so as to be able to return to that clear and simple vision on which it is based. A book I would willingly recommend to anyone.”  – Graeme K Talboys, author of The Druid Way Made Easy, The Path Through the Forest: A Druid Guidebook and Arianrhod’s Dance: A Druid Ritual Handbook

 

“This little book gives an outline of druidry, what it is and how it works, followed by an introductory tour of Zen teachings and then shows you how to bring both ‘traditions’ together to form Zen Druidry.  Very intriguing concept, well written and interesting for anyone on a spiritual path.” Rachel Patterson, author of Kitchen Witchcraft, Grimoire of a Kitchen Witch and Hoodoo Folk Magic

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The Little Pagan Monastery – it’s happening!

Spurred on by my blog posts and comments regarding living a pagan monastic life, I’ve decided to organise weekend “retreats” that will follow and incorporate monastic traditions such as daily prayers, meditation, talks, lectures, chores and ritual for the Pagan.

Set in the beautiful and sacred Chalice Well Gardens, this three day, two night weekend will follow a strict routine and regime that hopes to inspire you to incorporate more spirituality in your daily practice at home.  Take what inspires you and run with it!

The first weekend will be on 11 – 13 April 2014 at Chalice Well Gardens.  We have booked St Michael’s Lodge, which is a lovely guesthouse designed for peace and relaxation in mind.  Rooms are either single or shared, so be prepared to possibly share with a new friend!  There is a library where books may be borrowed, but please return them at the end of the weekend. There is also a lovely kitchen, and a meditation room for daily practice and connection.

The Meeting Room set right up against the gardens is where most of the weekend’s events will take place.  We also plan to do some work in the garden, as well as take trips out to Glastonbury Tor and the White Spring, weather permitting.  Come and experience the beauty of land, sea and sky atop the Tor, or take a healing plunge into the sacred pools of the White Spring, or simply come to enjoy the beauty of the Red Spring and the serenity of Chalice Well. The weekend will end with a ritual (if possible) by Chalice Well.

All food (vegetarian and vegan), drink and accommodation are included in the weekend retreat price.  A £50 deposit must be made up front to guarantee your booking, and will be non-refundable if you cancel within two weeks of the booking date.

If you desire to taste the monastic life, to pray, meditate, work and enjoy the silence in a special holy site with like-minded people, then this is the weekend for you!

£180 per person, cheque or paypal payment only. Please email autumnsong@hotmail.co.uk to book your place. If you are booking for more than one person please let me know and we will allocate you the double rooms first.

Many blessings!

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Face the Abyss…

As per my latest blog post, I’ve been inspired to go media free one day a week, when I am home and have access to the internet, television and radio – it’s easy to go media free when on holiday, for instance, but not when we’re home alone, and have to be alone with ourselves. No phone calls, no internet, no television, no radio. One day a week, to get back in touch with myself. To remember a time before all this media and social media became so important. A time to remember what really matters.  A time to read, to meditate, to go for walks, to sing, to dance, to play an instrument, to create.

Look into the abyss, and the abyss looks back at you…

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Little Pagan Monastery

chalicwell1So, after a lot of interest in my previous Pagan Monasticism blog posts, it looks like I will be co-running a retreat weekend this winter at Chalice Well Gardens, called the Little Pagan Monastery.  The dates haven’t been confirmed yet, but we’re looking at something between October and December 2013, and then again in the summer of 2014.

The Little Pagan Monastery will give people a brief glimpse into a pagan monastic life – the weekend will be structured around daily prayers, meditations, lectures, chores around the houses and Chalice Well Gardens, as well as outings to the White Spring and Glastonbury Tor.  It will be a weekend of the contemplative life – a time to devote yourself 100% to your gods and spirituality in the tranquil setting of Chalice Well Gardens. It is open to all pagans.  Expect to rise with the dawn! We will also have out of hours access to the Chalice Well Gardens, and will end the weekend with ritual.

Prices have yet to be determined, as we need a rough estimate of numbers first.  We are aiming to keep the cost of this weekend as low as possible, to enable everyone no matter what their financial circumstances are the opportunity to dip their toes into pagan monastic life.  We’re hoping that everyone will go away nurtured by the weekend, and finding new and imaginative ways of incorporating more spirituality in their daily lives, should they so wish.

If you are interested, please email me at autumnsong@hotmail.co.uk to be put on the sign-up list.  When we have a good idea of numbers, we will then let people know the financial costs and proceed from there. Space will be very limited, so please get in touch as soon as you can to be put on the list.

We hope to see you there!

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Sacred spaces, not magic circles…

Many, many teachers and authors emphasise the need for creating a circle when performing ritual, or doing inner pathworking, or meditation, and so on.  My first steps on the pagan path were Wiccan, and creating the circle is a large part of any ritual action.  I cringed, and still do, at any mention of creating a circle with salt – especially out of doors – it’s something that lacks all common sense in a nature-based spirituality; let’s protect ourselves by throwing salt down on the ground and potentially killing all nearby flora and fauna.  But I digress – the question is, how important is the creation of sacred space?

One of my patron goddesses is Nemetona, the goddess of sanctuary.  She is the representation, the embodiment of sanctuary, a place where we are held; a safe place. She is a goddess of transformation, for in a safe space we are able to explore, to try new things, to grow. Much as under our mother’s watchful eye, we can learn and develop as human beings.  However, we must also push the boundaries in order to develop – we must leave the protected and safe spaces to discover our own, to create our own.

When I perform ritual by myself, I don’t see the need to create a circle.  For me, either in my home or outside, the creation of a circle is setting a time and space outside of time and space, and this is not something I want to do. I want to be wholly in this world, grounded and interacting with it.  When performing rituals for others, I always respect their wish to create a circle if they so choose, for that is their path. For me though, it just isn’t necessary.

Inner pathworking is simply done, without the complex or simple creation of a safe place where I cannot be harmed by outside influences, or where my own energy can harm others,  for I don’t believe energy works this way.  Much like a curse, it only has an effect is the cursed believes in said curse.  I don’t believe that external energies are grasping and clawing around the edges of my circle, trying to get inside my mind as I undertake an inner journey, or that there are things crawling around the boundaries of my circle in ritual; demonic forces waiting to get in and cause havoc.  I also don’t believe that I can unwillingly send energy in ritual, thereby needing a circle to contain the energy until I so choose.  It’s something that some pagans agree with, but many do not.

In public ritual, I have also often found that the creation of the circles is merely words and actions – there isn’t any actual manipulation of energy behind it;  the circle isn’t really created, as far as I’m concerned.  Someone may walk around saying the words, then consecrating however they choose, but there is no energy in it – they are simply going through the motions. That, a circle does not make. Just walking around in a circle doesn’t create magical space unless there is sufficient intention behind it.

My home is a sanctuary.  It is a blessed and sacred space.  If I choose to do an inner pathworking there, “unguarded from external forces”, I don’t believe that they have the capability to do any harm. In fact, I don’t believe in them at all.  My home is sacred because of the way I feel about it, the way I honour the spirits of warmth and energy, of rest and play, of love and laughter that occurs within those walls.  I feel the same way about ritual outside in the wilds – the circle is unnecessary, for nature is simply nature.  Were I to work outdoors in the city, perhaps, where the human threat of physical violence must be considered, then perhaps I would create a “magic” circle. Most likely I would simply find a safer place from physical harm.

I’m currently reading a book on Druidry that does quite a bit of inner pathworking as part of the suggested work.  This book is fraught with warnings, about when something happens in your inner pathworking that you don’t like, that you don’t control – people entering, things not going according to plan.  I think that the mere suggestion of the possibility of this is leading people to self-sabotage their pathworkings – if you believe it, then chances are that the suggestion planted in the subconscious can and will emerge when we feel most vulnerable.  Suggesting that we must protect ourselves, that we are vulnerable when we perform these actions – to me this is nonsense.  If these suggestions had never even been made, then most likely “bad things” would never happen in pathworking. I have done many pathworking, and undergone hypnosis – both in classes teaching it and myself being a subject to know what it is like.  You are fully in control, as if you were not “under” hypnosis.  It is merely a state of relaxation where you can access parts of the brain that the “conscious” mind just shouts over.   I know that many would disagree with me – again I will reiterate that this is simply my personal opinion, and that others will have their own equally valid opinions.  The whole subject is subjective – and what works for you may not work for others.

I suppose sacred spaces for me are those places where there is no need, no desire to protect myself from outside influences, at least those that I believe in.  My rituals are open to the world, so that I can connect fully and wholly with the world around me.  The intention behind my rituals, behind the way that I live my life, is what matters most – and that does not include creating spheres around me for protection.  It’s all a bit Hollywood for me – I just don’t believe in it. I do, however, believe in sacred space, in the sanctuaries that we create, or that we come across – a grove in a forest, a clearing on a mountaintop, a space behind a waterfall, a corner of the bedroom – all these places that sing to our heart, these are our sacred places.  I feel no need to fence them in, in the physical or the spiritual sense.  I am a part of them, wholly influenced and touched by them when I am sharing their space and time.  It is a gift, and one that I accept wholeheartedly.

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Ancestors

I’ve been thinking a lot about the ancestors lately.  When people think of the ancestors, the first thing that comes to mind is blood relatives from the past.  In Druidry, we honour our blood ancestors, but also those ancestors of tradition (those who have shared our worldviews) and of place (those who are a part of our land).  Yet it is not ancestors of the past that currently occupy my thoughts – it is ancestors of the future, those yet to come, that are my main guiding force in life.

I am childless by choice.  I will not have direct descendants, though I share my genetic makeup with the rest of my family, my nephews, cousins and more, which will be passed down through blood.  However, I will become a future ancestors of tradition as well as having future ancestors of tradition, and the same can be said for being and having future ancestors of place.  It is mostly to these ancestors yet to come, my future ancestors of all three groups, that direct the way in which I live my life.

Our ancestors of the past have helped to shape us, to make us what we are, though we are our own person and always have our own choices to make in life.  We can repeat past mistakes or we can change – it is up to us.  Our ancestors of the future do not have the luxury of choice – they are stuck with whatever it is that we provide them.  With the world being in such a mess, alongside the moments of pure beauty, I worry about what I will leave for them.

Emma Restall Orr states on her website that she endeavours to live a life of which her ancestors would be proud.  That is a beautiful and motivating sentiment – and is especially poignant for our future ancestors.  We have the option of learning from our previous ancestors to make this world a better place, in however big or small a way, for our future ancestors.  Apathy has no place in my worldview – everything we do matters.

I have made mistakes in my past. I have had glorious achievements.  I can acknowledge all of these, and today be the best person I can be, for the sake of my future ancestors of blood, tradition and place.  There is no time to wallow in guilt, or to rest on my laurels – every single deed, every single action right now will have an effect on the future.  The past is there to teach us, the future is there to direct us, and the present moment exists to capture all that we can be in this moment in time.

Heathenry, or the Northern Tradition in paganism, has a beautiful saying – “We are our deeds”.  We must live up to it.  The past is gone, the future ungraspable – so make this very moment count.  Live honourably, with awareness.  To my future ancestors, know that you are honoured.