zen

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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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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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Enough Already!

How often you do say “enough already”?  Mostly, when you’re sick of something, and really don’t want anything more, or anything more to do with it.  These past few months I’ve been applying the “enough already” to my life, though with different connotations.

What are our needs, as human beings? Food, shelter, clothing and something of a sense of security go a long way to making our lives happy.  Social interaction, music and literature also go a long way to making our lives better.  Yet in our culture, we just can’t seem to get “enough”.  Our economy, if it isn’t growing, is in recession – if our GDP isn’t constantly on the up, then we’re seen as failing.  We need more news, faster, and through all kinds of media.  We need bigger houses for all our possessions, multiple cars and swimming pools.  This is the measure of success in our culture, not happiness.

I would pose that we need to relearn just what enough is.  We’ve got things galore, but do they make us happy?  Looking up the word galore, I came across with an interesting little find – galore also means enough.  Irish go leor  enough, plenty ( Scots Gaelic gu leòr, leòir ).  To have enough is plenty.

Some 20th century modcons make our lives much easier – the telephone, for example.  We can talk to people and distance is no longer a factor, though money still is – you must be able to afford that phone call (though I would say that even this is a stretch, for I know people with mobile phones who manage to pay their mobile phone bills but not their rent).  However, do we really need phones that do everything, with all the latest apps?  I have a mobile phone that I have for emergencies, ie. if my car breaks down on a lonely country road, I can call for help. This phone is 10 years old.  If people want to reach me, they have my landline. If I’m not home, they can leave a message.  It’s not life or death if I can’t be reached 24/7. It rarely is for most people.  (I often wonder if this 24/7 reachability gives people a sense of self-importance – and if so, that’s something that saddens me terribly).

I don’t need to wait in line outside a store for hours for the latest IPhone release.  Why on earth would I want to do that?  I have a life to live, in all honesty, that does not revolve around bowing down to the gods of consumerism.  My phone is enough for my needs, which are pretty basic when it comes to phones.

A computer is also a necessity in my line of work.  For writing, for my other jobs, I just couldn’t do without one.  Social media is also a necessity for me, to share ideas and get feedback, to promote events and subjects that I feel are important, to keep in touch with my family who are thousands of miles away.  But I don’t have a Twitter account, or pininterest, or the host of other things that create an online presence – I have what I need in my line of work – a blog, a website, a Youtube account (for my dance company, visual is the most important form of media) and a Facebook account.  This already seems like a lot to me, and I don’t want to expand this any further – so much time is already spent on all of these, and there are, after all, other things I need to be doing for my work, like writing and choreographing to say the least!

When is enough plenty?  When we can find something to wear that doesn’t take more than a few seconds to think about.  When we eat until we are 80% full, knowing that we will feel full in a few minutes.  When our grooming habits take less than 20 minutes for a usual day.  When we don’t feel the need for the latest “thing”.

A good exercise – take a look around your house, maybe just one room, and note all the things you absolutely need.  Write them down. Now make another list of everything that isn’t essential, and then compare the two.  A few items, such as a gift from someone that you love and want to display on your mantelpiece, for instance, shouldn’t really count against you.  But all the things that you don’t love, that don’t have meaning, that you could just as easily do without – these are the things we need to think about.

Before each purchase, I always ask myself – do I need this? If the answer is no, then I won’t buy it.  It’s that simple.  I made a vow last year (the second time I’ve done this) to not buy any new clothes for a year.  I still have license to buy whatever I would like from charity shops, but even then I always ask myself – do I need this? If the answer is still no, even if it is only £2, then I won’t buy it. I have enough. I have plenty.

 

 

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Three useful words…

On one of my favourite television shows, two characters were taking a road trip, and the tire blew.  They got out of the car, and the young man said “Well, that happened.”  His girlfriend queried this -“Is that all you’ve got to say?”

I like his attitude.  There are many, many things in our life that are beyond our control.  We have no control over other people, the weather, the bus timetable.  It’s an acceptance of things the way they are – that doesn’t mean that you don’t have to change it if you aren’t happy with it, but it is the path of least suffering.

Those three words also state that whatever happened no longer exists – it is in the past, and the past is ungraspable.  So is the future. We only have the now. Let’s get on with it.

I could rant and rail about other people’s behaviour and actions. Or I could get on with living my own life the best that I can.  I can use the people and situations around me as inspiration to be the best person I can be at this point in time.  I can also release any notion of control, for it is a fallacy at best.

Yes, certain events in human history are exceptionally horrid – it’s hard to say those three words about things like the holocaust, for example.  It’s not letting go of the responsibility of our actions; it’s more about getting on with making things better instead of dwelling in our heads with our emotions and not really achieving anything.  If a loved one dies, these three words aren’t particularly comforting.  But it can give us a context, where we can feel the emotion at the time, and then work to make the world a better place in the precious time that we have left.

The next time something happens that has the ability to upset me, this is what I’m going to say. “Well, that happened”.

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Leo Babuata’s 12 Essential Rules to Live More Like a Zen Monk

12 Essential Rules to Live More Like a Zen Monk  (taken from http://zenhabits.net/12-essential-rules-to-live-more-like-a-zen-monk/)

“We have more possibilities available in each moment than we realize.” – Thich Nhat Hanh

Post written by Leo Babauta.

I’m not a Zen monk, nor will I ever become one. However, I find great inspiration in the way they try to live their lives: the simplicity of their lives, the concentration and mindfulness of every activity, the calm and peace they find in their days.

You probably don’t want to become a Zen monk either, but you can live your life in a more Zen-like manner by following a few simple rules.

Why live more like a Zen monk? Because who among us can’t use a little more concentration, tranquility, and mindfulness in our lives? Because Zen monks for hundreds of years have devoted their lives to being present in everything they do, to being dedicated and to serving others. Because it serves as an example for our lives, and whether we ever really reach that ideal is not the point.

One of my favorite Zen monks, Thich Nhat Hanh, simplified the rules in just a few words: “Smile, breathe and go slowly.” It doesn’t get any better than that.

However, for those who would like a little more detail, I thought I’d share some of the things I’ve discovered to work very well in my experiments with Zen-like living. I am no Zen master … I am not even a Zen Buddhist. However, I’ve found that there are certain principles that can be applied to any life, no matter what your religious beliefs or what your standard of living.

“Zen is not some kind of excitement, but concentration on our usual everyday routine.” – Shunryu Suzuki

    1. Do one thing at a time. This rule (and some of the others that follow) will be familiar to long-time Zen Habits readers. It’s part of my philosophy, and it’s also a part of the life of a Zen monk: single-task, don’t multi-task. When you’re pouring water, just pour water. When you’re eating, just eat. When you’re bathing, just bathe. Don’t try to knock off a few tasks while eating or bathing. Zen proverb: “When walking, walk. When eating, eat.”
    2. Do it slowly and deliberately. You can do one task at a time, but also rush that task. Instead, take your time, and move slowly. Make your actions deliberate, not rushed and random. It takes practice, but it helps you focus on the task.
    3. Do it completely. Put your mind completely on the task. Don’t move on to the next task until you’re finished. If, for some reason, you have no choice but to move on to something else, try to at least put away the unfinished task and clean up after yourself. If you prepare a sandwich, don’t start eating it until you’ve put away the stuff you used to prepare it, wiped down the counter, and washed the dishes used for preparation. Then you’re done with that task, and can focus more completely on the next task.
    4. Do less. A Zen monk doesn’t lead a lazy life: he wakes early and has a day filled with work. However, he doesn’t have an unending task list either — there are certain things he’s going to do today, and no more. If you do less, you can do those things more slowly, more completely and with more concentration. If you fill your day with tasks, you will be rushing from one thing to the next without stopping to think about what you do.
    5. Put space between things. Related to the “Do less” rule, but it’s a way of managing your schedule so that you always have time to complete each task. Don’t schedule things close together — instead, leave room between things on your schedule. That gives you a more relaxed schedule, and leaves space in case one task takes longer than you planned.
    6. Develop rituals. Zen monks have rituals for many things they do, from eating to cleaning to meditation. Ritual gives something a sense of importance — if it’s important enough to have a ritual, it’s important enough to be given your entire attention, and to be done slowly and correctly. You don’t have to learn the Zen monk rituals — you can create your own, for the preparation of food, for eating, for cleaning, for what you do before you start your work, for what you do when you wake up and before you go to bed, for what you do just before exercise. Anything you want, really.
    7. Designate time for certain things. There are certain times in the day of a Zen monk designated for certain activities. A time for for bathing, a time for work, a time for cleaning, a time for eating. This ensures that those things get done regularly. You can designate time for your own activities, whether that be work or cleaning or exercise or quiet contemplation. If it’s important enough to do regularly, consider designating a time for it.

  1. Devote time to sitting. In the life of a Zen monk, sitting meditation (zazen) is one of the most important parts of his day. Each day, there is time designated just for sitting. This meditation is really practice for learning to be present. You can devote time for sitting meditation, or do what I do: I use running as a way to practice being in the moment. You could use any activity in the same way, as long as you do it regularly and practice being present.
  2. Smile and serve others. Zen monks spend part of their day in service to others, whether that be other monks in the monastery or people on the outside world. It teaches them humility, and ensures that their lives are not just selfish, but devoted to others. If you’re a parent, it’s likely you already spend at least some time in service to others in your household, and non-parents may already do this too. Similarly, smiling and being kind to others can be a great way to improve the lives of those around you. Also consider volunteering for charity work.
  3. Make cleaning and cooking become meditation. Aside from the zazen mentioned above, cooking and cleaning are two of the most exalted parts of a Zen monk’s day. They are both great ways to practice mindfulness, and can be great rituals performed each day. If cooking and cleaning seem like boring chores to you, try doing them as a form of meditation. Put your entire mind into those tasks, concentrate, and do them slowly and completely. It could change your entire day (as well as leave you with a cleaner house).
  4. Think about what is necessary. There is little in a Zen monk’s life that isn’t necessary. He doesn’t have a closet full of shoes, or the latest in trendy clothes. He doesn’t have a refrigerator and cabinets full of junk food. He doesn’t have the latest gadgets, cars, televisions, or iPod. He has basic clothing, basic shelter, basic utensils, basic tools, and the most basic food (they eat simple, vegetarian meals consisting usually of rice, miso soup, vegetables, and pickled vegetables). Now, I’m not saying you should live exactly like a Zen monk — I certainly don’t. But it does serve as a reminder that there is much in our lives that aren’t necessary, and it can be useful to give some thought about what we really need, and whether it is important to have all the stuff we have that’s not necessary.
  5. Live simply. The corollary of Rule 11 is that if something isn’t necessary, you can probably live without it. And so to live simply is to rid your life of as many of the unnecessary and unessential things as you can, to make room for the essential. Now, what is essential will be different to each person. For me, my family, my writing, my running and my reading are essential. To others, yoga and spending time with close friends might be essential. For others it will be nursing and volunteering and going to church and collecting comic books. There is no law saying what should be essential for you — but you should consider what is most important to your life, and make room for that by eliminating the other less essential things in your life.

“Before enlightenment chop wood and carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water.” – Wu Li

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Back to Reality

Reality is a slippery little devil.  Our minds are so adept at creating our own version of reality that the boundaries between what is real and what is not can become so blurred as to be indistinguishable.

Our thoughts can control us so much that they can keep us running around in circles, spinning off into the depths of our minds and in doing so, missing out on all the wonders and also the reality of the present moment.  Most people don’t enjoy being in the present moment – they avoid it at all costs. However, this is because they have probably, for the most part, never ever truly experienced being in the present moment. (See my previous blog post on mindtraps for more on this subject – https://downtheforestpath.wordpress.com/?s=mindtraps.)

But I digress.  Problems arise when our perceptions of reality become twisted with the imaginative and creative thought processes that our human brains are so capable of.  This was made clear when my husband received a phone call last night from someone he hadn’t heard from in a long time.  When he queried why the person hadn’t been in touch (he didn’t have their number) they stated that he had become upset at their last conversation, and that he had put the  phone down on them.

This was not true – I don’t believe he has ever put the phone down on anyone, and especially would never do so to this person.  This person had left the real conversation months ago, and was not satisfied with the outcome.  And so, this person developed in their minds ways that it would appear that they had been wronged, so that they could continue to avoid reality and live in their preferred state of being the victim.  They may have told and retold the story of the conversation in their minds over and over again, changing the details until, after a period of days, weeks or months, reality had changed. Stories change with the telling, we know this.  But we are fooling ourselves when we keep changing reality to suit our own egos and emotions.

I remember times when I’ve done this myself in the past – sometimes it is to justify certain behaviour, or to explain events.  The key is to become aware of when you are doing it, to stop and say “Right.  I know what the facts are, and I’m going to stick to them, and not change them to suit my own desires”.  I still get surprised when I see this in other people – I’ve had people accuse me of certain things, of promising others and of creating a totally separate reality to that which actually occurred.  It can be hurtful, at times, until you understand the thought process that creates this – you then realise that you had no part in it, that it became an entity totally foreign to your own being.

This doesn’t mean that you are not responsible for your actions – we all must be the best human beings we can at this present moment. Actions have consequences. However, we must also be aware and have some compassion for those who are caught up in their own realities, to a certain extent. We don’t have to live in them, or even partake of that reality, but we can understand the reasons why.

We have to learn how to live in the here and now.  Being alive and present in the here and now allows no time for emotional attachment to our thoughts and feelings – we still respond emotionally to situations, but we don’t become attached to the emotion itself.  As I left work yesterday, after a long staff meeting, my colleague was upset at what was said about our department, which was, unwittingly or not, derogatory.  Not only does this emphasise that we need to think very clearly before we speak, but also that we also cannot attach to the emotions that follow after a certain event.  I too was very displeased with the outcome of the meeting and the insinuation, and driving home could feel anger welling inside, threatening to ruin the whole drive home and run well into the evening. However, I caught myself, and brought myself back to reality and the present moment.  What was the present moment? Driving home, in the late afternoon sun, putting miles between myself and the event, figuratively and literally.  It was no longer happening now, except in my head.  I could either let it continue to live in my head, or simply enjoy the evening. I chose the latter.

This doesn’t mean that the issue will not be dealt with. It will, in a calm, rational and compassionate way.  But it won’t dictate reality for me – reality is what it is, and nothing more.  When the time is appropriate, the issue will be raised without undo emotional attachment to the residual event that still exists in our minds, which may have altered slightly or even greatly since the actual event occurred – reality is a slippery devil indeed.  I will not go over the event again and again in my mind, perhaps changing reality in doing so.  I will deal with the facts.

Let us continue to tell stories, but not make up the story of our own life.  Our own lives are brilliant and fascinating enough – we don’t need to add more drama to them.  By doing so, we will miss our own lives, living instead in our minds and foregoing some of the wondrous nature that is constantly unfolding right before our very eyes.  We can hurt other people by making up stories to suit our egos and our needs, and the person whom we hurt most is ourselves.

Reality is not such a bad place.  Really.

 

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Walk lightly in Spring, for the Earth is pregnant

The light is growing – each and every day, the sun sets a little further along the horizon.  Though it’s still cold, it’s nice to drive home in the light – and light enough to still be able to go for a walk when I get home.  Though walking in the dark is nice, it’s a little difficult where I live unless you carry a torch – there are no lights, no light pollution. It is complete darkness.  Torches kind of spoil it, but they do prevent you from falling in ditches…

I’ve always loved going for walks.  A chance to be alone with nature, to listen and smell and feel the earth beneath my feet.  To walk under the shared space of trees, roots curling around stones hidden beneath the ground.  Feeling the breeze on my face, in my hair.  It’s a form of prayer.

I usually go for a walk a couple of times a week, on my “days off”, ie. days when I’m writing or preparing my dance classes, workshops or performances.  I’ve decided that I’m going to try and take a walk almost every day after work – Mondays and Thursdays are a little tricky sometimes, with work and then classes the same day – but I’m still going to give it a go.  Daily sitting meditation has worked well, and now will try daily moving meditation.

Like my sitting meditation, it is a time to be fully in the moment, to be present in this space and time that I am occupying.  Unlike my sitting meditation, this seems to involve more things, more stimuli, more interaction.  Instead of just sitting on my cushion in front of my altar, listening to the sounds of the house, focusing on my breath, hearing the birds outside, feeling my spine relax, the outdoor walking meditation involves even more interaction, with so many more beings.

Connection is integral to Druidry.  A walking meditation, or an outdoor meditation, for me is the best way to establish this connection, which to me is also a form of prayer.  Prayer is communion, and communion with nature is what it’s all about.  I can walk with compassion through the landscape, honouring the land upon which I live, honouring the people that share that landscape – neighbours walking the bridleway, the dog that always barks as I walk past his domain, the hazel hollow that is dark even on the brightest of days.  Doing this daily is a great opportunity to see the community and landscape as it changes throughout the seasons, and even day by day.

It’s also a great way to de-stress, and centre yourself before you come home.  Doing something physical, even something gentle like walking, will do your body a world of good.  Even only 15 – 20 minutes a day is beneficial.  Yesterday when I entered my home, touching the doorway and saying a prayer as I crossed the threshold, I entered in a completely different frame of mind than if I had just gone from my car to porch.  Tired from work, working through anger in issues of human nature, that walk helped me to resolve everything and made me feel more refreshed and relaxed at the same time.  Simply breathing in fresh air after a day in a stuffy office, the scent of warming earth and woodsmoke on the wind, blew away the cobwebs and gave me inspiration on multiple levels – I now had the way to deal with difficult human problems, as well as more mundane issues.

I am reminded of the Native American proverb – “Walk lightly upon the Earth in the Spring, for she is pregnant…”  We must take care of our planet, our minds and our bodies, and walk with compasion.

I look forward to my walk tonight.

 

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The Nature of Prayer

A television show that I enjoy, which originally aired in the late 90’s through to 2002, is Dharma and Gregg. It is about a free-spirited woman with two hippy parents who is very spiritual, very loving and very funny. She marries a conservative born and bred lawyer, and the exchange and growth between the two is what makes this such a great show.

At one point Dharma is praying in a hospital chapel, and her spirit guide, a Native American named George whom she connected with personally before he died, comes to her aid and offers advice in her time of need. He hears her praying, having a conversation with whatever deity will listen, and offers these very poignant words which I remember to this very day.

“So, you’re having a conversation with the Great Spirit, the Creator of All Things, and you’re doing the talking?”

This, indeed defines for me the nature of what prayer is seen as today. Even if we are not asking for anything, a lot of prayer consists of a one-way conversation between the individual and the deity/spirit in question. Prayer is a relationship, for me – and as such necessitates a give and take in everything, including both spoken and unspoken words. Too often in prayer, we forget to listen.

Have you ever had to listen to someone go on and on, and know that they are simply enjoying their own drama? If someone comes to you and asks sincerely for advice, then they will tell their tale and then listen – otherwise it is simply a self-indulgence that is ego-based. Communing with deity means a communication from both sides.

Prayer is also not something done only in times of need. How annoying is it when a friend only comes to you when they need something? A good relationship is being there for someone, to listen and aid a friend, and with a Zen attitude, not expect anything in return. This is a huge ask. I’m not terribly great at it – I still have some expectations, though I am working on the philosophy behind the Zen attitude. I’ve had friends that only take from you, physically or spiritually, and give nothing back. It isn’t nurturing, and that is the main difference, I think.

For relationships don’t simply happen – they do require nurturing and attention, kind of like a houseplant, when I come to think of it. There are some friends who I don’t see for years, due to distance, but when I do see them it is like no time has ever passed, no miles could ever come between. It is because these friends nourish me, as I hope I do for them. It is the same with the gods – some I haven’t communed with for years, but they still hold a special place in my heart, which is renewed upon experience. I sincerely hope this doesn’t sound too self-centred.

I’ve since dropped the friends who are no longer nurturing, who only have their best interests to heart. I have been used by several people, and it’s never nice. The same goes with any deity – I will not pray to any god or goddess who is simply in it for themselves. I seek wholesome, nurturing relationships with my gods, my friends and the environment – it is part and parcel of being a Druid.

So what is the nature of Prayer? The nature is to nurture. It is to establish a connection that sustains everyone involved and which makes this world a better place. It is a give and take, listening and responding, with honour and with integrity and to the best of our ability.

Life itself is prayer.