Onwards

I haven't written for a while, not because nothing of note has happened, but much. Most of it seems too huge and personal to share so, as it's not just my stuff that I'd be airing on a public washing line, I will dry my details indoors.

Over the past couple of months I have received healing, attended ceremonies, danced, sang, toned, sweated, laughed and cried. I survived the madness that is Christmas and New Year. I have been more aware of my power and have been comfortable in my skin - at times I have felt 100% woman and totally liberated. I bought an axe and enjoy chopping my logs. I have made friends, birthed a drum, helped cook an ancestral meal, stood barefoot in the snow wearing nothing but a sarong. I have also spent far too much time in front of a rectangular screen.

For the most part, despite the dreary wintry weather, the sun has been shining in my world.

There have been 3 deaths in my family in the last 6 weeks. These three lived to a good age: 96, 12 and 103. For me their lives are to be celebrated, not their loss mourned. How can I be sad when I see their passing as a transition rather than an ending? The thought that we are spiritual beings having a human experience is a great source of comfort in trying times. This lifetime is a mere blink of the eye in the great scheme of things. I beat my drum to aid their passage onwards.

Merlin (age 12) was a much loved, cheeky, slightly eccentric person trapped in the body of a Labrador. I think he was special needs.

Aum x

Law of Attraction

Whilst out walking yesterday I got lost. I knew where I was going but I missed the wonder of nature as my left brain wandered off, wondering. The title of a friend's blog, coupled with meeting new people at the weekend, tripled with recent external events, and quadrupled with my own history, had got me thinking: What really attracts one human being to another and can we define that attraction?

We are often told that pheromones are key to sexual desire, but what about platonic friends, places, animals...?

How is it that I choose to make contact with one person over another in a room full of strangers? Is it the light we see emanating from the other? Recognition of a prenatal acquaintance? Are we vibrating at a similar frequency? I just don't know... I have a much loved friend who, in her own words, doesn't do deep. Aside from a shared sense of humour (is this the key?) she is my opposite in practically every other way. So is it balance? Are they the missing fraction of our whole self, filling our gaps at any particular time?

Is it looks, or memories - however distant - either positive or negative, that shape our current leanings? I spent much of my childhood in a house overlooking Romney Marsh - in my eyes a bleak and not very welcoming landscape. Home, where I feel comfortable, is in undulating countryside, near trees, with a preference for broad leafed varieties. I do not suffer from wanderlust yet I am inexplicably drawn to the life of Mongolian nomads, an existance as far removed from mine as I can imagine. Why?

When I was 7 a german shepherd ate my guinea pig. Though I love all dogs I have no desire to adopt an alsatian. Ever.

Aum x

Kicking the but(t) of idle talk

Since August I've been looking for a lodge of the sweaty variety. While I was in it I thought never again do I have to put myself through this, however, since emerging from the "womb" the discomfort has mysteriously been erased from my memory. Like childbirth? I've no idea - I had a c-section.

A blog I stumbled across on my rambles round the web Shamanic Druidry led to a FB friend request and exposure to a diary of workshop opportunities, mostly taking place on the Isle of Sheppey.

I'd like to do this one or that one, I say... But it's too far, I tell myself. But what about the dog? Can I afford it? What is it with me? Jeez, it's only an hour away; Seth has many fans who are keen to adopt him for the day; and frankly I really don't need to buy any more books from Amazon when there is a perfectly good library system in place.

Admittedly I cannot reach my own backside so ordinarily I rely on someone to kick it for me.

Anyway, last Sunday I made it across the water to the reclaimed lands of the Isle for a workshop led by the wonderful Zoë Brân to mark the turning of the year, Samhain.

Caer Corhrain has beautiful energy and there were some lovely people present. We sat on sheepskins, attentive. We rattled and snuggled down into the fleeces. We journeyed to the middle and lower worlds to meet spirit helpers and also met an ancestor who gave us a gift. We asked questions, got answers and shared our findings. It was an enlightening day and I brought home further self-knowledge, reassurance, and I also gained some new friends. I'm planning to make a drum and/or rattle with Phil Jones in the near future and do further work with my spirit guides in whatever guise they appear.

If I can get off my But I think I'm on the medicine path...

Aum x

Truth, Lies and Mr Darcey

Some days I think a lot, analysing my feelings, over and over, over and over.

And over and over.

There are books out there that will explain exactly why and how what I'm doing is not beneficial. I've probably ready many of them, only to cast aside the half-read literature before moving on to the next must-read read on my Amazon wish list. I'm well versed at reading, choosing to forget to put into practice the well-crafted words, and then metaphorically sticking pins in my eyes when I realise I've fallen asleep AGAIN.

The dream is so vivid and so believable, I'm living it.

For my benefit I'm going to go over the basics again...

I hear something. Or see something. I have a point of view about it. It's not the truth, merely a point of view. Mine. And this is where I forget to take responsibility - it's mine and there is and an overwhelming likelihood that it's not the exact point of reference for any other person alive (da-dah!).

From this position I create a judgement, then pictures and thoughts, building to a story. It's not real. Hear me? It's not real. But my imagination is sometimes so creative, working in technicolour and stringing whole scenes together I begin to believe this costume drama is the truth. It's like believing that Colin Firth really is Mr Darcy... and suddenly I have turned into a Bridget Jones neurotic.

If feelings are just a chemical/electrical reaction in response to thoughts then they're easily manipulated and there is never any reason to think/feel anything other than happy. Duh!

Sometimes, however, life just gets in the way. Some days I feel sad.

Aum x

It's written in the Numbers

This morning at 10:10 10/10/10 I closed my eyes and made a wish. I trust that my wish is being fulfilled even as I type. I can feel it.

Everyone will benefit.

Love love love ♥

Aum xx

Sugar and spice

... And all things nice. I have recently been granted the opportunity to find out what I'm really made of.

For the first time in my life I am living alone: sharing the house with no-human-body. I'm a little bit happy, a little bit sad and a little bit of a scaredy pants. In due course, however, I guess I will find out who I AM.

I've started a new leg of my journey. In any case I've reset the mileometer to zero as, when I look in my rear-view mirror, I see that I have always put the needs of others before my own. I believe I am going to be selfing - getting in touch with what I want, discovering and owning my hopes and dreams. Mine. You hear that? Mine!

It's early days and I'm not yet bored or lonely, though I do miss eye contact, and it's just not the same when I tickle my own feet. I've got the dog for company and luckily he's happy to share the sofa and have his ears fondled. But, I'm craving human touch so if some wild-eyed female smelling of Christmas catches your eye and asks for a hug, do say hello.

Aum x

My idea of home

Alone in life
Like an eagle flying high
My kingdom is the mind
As the bird has its sky

This is the first verse of a poem I wrote 24 years ago. It isn't a happy poem, as none of them were in those days! Today I am lost in thought and yes, I feel the teensiest bit lonely. I wonder when it was that we stopped living in community, when we were there for each other. Not across the ether - yes those 3 hours on Facebook have been fun - but there in person, able to look into one another's eyes and touch each other. I curse the linear village!

For many years I've been yearning to live more simply and without excess baggage. I like nice things: I'd keep my Egyptian cotton sheets and cashmere cardigans thanks very much, just have less of everything. My dream home is a yurt. With plumbing for my very civilised bathroom annexe. And a workable kitchen area. The idea of living in one room appeals to me and I honestly don't understand why I would want to borrow crazy amounts of money to buy/borrow the bricks and mortar that constitute a house.

Cave of the Yellow Dog is one of my favourite films and I have pondered the life of a nomad. I don't think it's for me. I see a settlement of yurts and (I'll allow) wooden lodges, with a large communal kitchen garden and central area with seating and a home fire heating a forever-boiling kettle. If I hold this picture in my mind for long enough, one day this will be my home.

Aum xx

ps I'd have a little sign hanging on my (oak stable) door saying Welcome. Should my introverted nature take over I'd turn it round to show the legend I've retreated to my kingdom, please be seated and wait until I've landed.