Uncategorized – Page 2 – Penny Reilly Artist Beyond the Gate

Wild Spirit… restoration or revolution…

In a world gone crazy, we are saner when nature is our guide. When all else is going to hell in a proverbial hand-basket, people, literally going mad with fear for the future, food security, medicines, ageing and educating children ethically, nature is a constant.

Yes, her seasons change, her patterns are in infinite flux and, when we learn that the ice caps are predicted to melt within 10 years if temperatures continue to climb, as is through recent summers, what will we do? Not to mention the threat of war that constantly hangs over us daily due to the madness of man in his quest to dominate and to control everything.

Learning the signs and signals nature provides is different for each of us, but there are hard and fast ones globally, that tell us of extreme weather events, daily.

Some we have relegated to the realms of myth, others are sniggered at, but the fact is, after studying these patterns for myself over a life time, I know they are no myth. When all falls quiet, not a leaf or grass blade flutters and birds are still, there are earthquake rumblings occurring. Birds and insects disappear before a storm and well before any predictions are broadcast.

When spring returns

there will be scents

of earth renewed

I’ll walk the soil

feet frozen

by the icy, morning dew

I’ll share the sun

as birds salute the day

from treetop high

in morning light

and when day ends

I’ll sleep the sleep of peace

as warmth returns

with every passing night

Days will lengthen

bird chorus my alarm

As sunlight streams

my senses are disarmed

for in the dawn

nightmares fade and die

I’m filled with the joy

of simple things

and with contentment sigh

When spring returns

I’ll raise my face to the sun

I’ll stand again in icy, morning dew

and like the earth’s new day begun

I’ll be renewed

My first foray into studying the behavioural signs of the wild was as a child, watching ants climb trees, walls and posts, secreting their eggs above, what appeared to us to be, an invisible water line. The higher they went the more rain was coming. Snails and millipedes exhibit the same behaviour.

My first experiment to find out how long a snail lived, was with a dab of stolen, pink nail polish, on an unsuspecting snail’s, shell, to see how large an area it inhabited and assess if it lived more than a year. I looked at its habitat …a small area under a lilac tree, my favourite tree in my Nanna’s garden. I looked at how it hid away in winter, sealing its shell with a paper thin skin and withdrawing into hibernation. Did it worry whether it would wake again?

It lived many years, for after my grandmother died, I wandered her garden for the last time and there it was, and by then the snail was more than eleven years old.

Joey the Tortoise, was about 85 years and my grandmother’s constant, if aloof, companion, who she would feed fresh lettuce leaves to. I realised, she was similar to all these creatures. Slow moving because she took her time over things, relishing the ways of her garden and the cycles of nature. Living through two world wars, losing her husband to the WW1, a pandemic, plus other skirmishes around the world, she was a retiring woman of few words. Instead, she observed. She ate mostly from her garden, other than a little fish from the fishmonger, who delivered once a week, and cheese, milk and butter from the milkman.

A walk down the street with her, was usually to replace a button or have her shoes mended, again. She rarely bought anything new. She wasted nothing, and was a deep-thinking, intuitive woman, clairvoyant and a medium, who suffered often for what she saw, such as the truth in tea leaves, the way a leaf fell or a bird flew… and my own wild spirit is inherited from two such women, for both my grandmothers, lived these uncomplicated lives, translating nature’s rhythms into their own dance of life… and so am I formed.

I wasn’t taught these things in words, only through their awareness, if they taught at all. No, it was all by example and somehow, it inveigled its way into my psyche.

I always loved gardens, wherever I was in the world and in times of personal challenge and change, I would find solace in nature; a garden, a park, a wilderness and still do, to this day.

As a child in the UK, I was mostly classified as different to many children. I loved nothing better to than to be alone to run wild in the countryside, my sisters, both a fair bit older than me, were disinterested in the ways of nature.

Wild living isn’t about getting away from people, necessarily. It’s brought about by a need for the peace of nature to expand on a thought, a theory, or to bury pain in Earth’s dark depths, rather than to carry it around inside to create illness or to despair at the shape the inhabitants of this planet are in. It is however, all about living simply.

Wild Lady, Mother Earth, takes everyone’s pain, wordlessly, without judgement and completely, if we stop picking at old scabs and scars, to check if they still hurt. Maybe they still do. Yet, it’s not the moment where the original pain occurred or exists because it’s now, not then and this moment in consciousness, in the eternal now of moments.

We can choose to continue, hell bent on our linear journey, or we can embrace a broader field of awareness. How we respond now is the ‘make or break’ to heal it. How we own our part in it, rather than blaming another, or circumstances beyond our control, which lends itself to victimhood, when it can be a learning curve for new understanding.

Sometimes, we use our drama to enhance our pain because it is through this, we feel greater… our ego feeds on it to make us think that’s all there is and that it’s the norm of the world. Well of course it’s not. Social media is the classic example of pain sharing and is at epidemic proportions particularly as I began writing this little piece for my next book through the Coved-19 pandemic. Supporting pain, for pain’s sake, is not a solution to healing the root cause… but I digress.

Restoration, a revolution for change in how we see our world, is the ultimate healing paradigm. A conscious, peaceful revolution… to restore Wild Mother to wholeness, is to restore ourselves. That said, Wild Mother will continue on her journey, with or without us… it’s our choice but important, is that we don’t become overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. We each need to focus on our own back yards, so to speak.

Wake up humankind. Stand up and be counted. Nature is the healer. If we learn her magickal, natural and resourceful ways and how to translate her messages, not generically, but for ourselves, everything may be healed, layer by layer, season by organic season.

Walk softly… step up… Awen /|\

Penny

On the move towards Solstice…

Winter arrived with a boom… days of autumn sunshine and colour, turned white by instant frost… brrrr, -3°.

Still… winter brings introspection as solstice approaches. We burrow deep into the cold… dark days, somehow bring hope. We know, subtle underground movement is already afoot… green shoots silently unfurl to break through the icy crust. When I close my eyes, I imagine them slumbering, waiting and with animism, perhaps anticipating, how the light will feel on their green flesh… sunlight, pulling on them, tugging them to reach up to the light from the darkness beneath.

Sow the seeds
Weave the web in time
Weave
sow
Grow
in wisdom
in knowledge
of the
life stream
and the
soul spark
of
intelligence
…breathe
All one
Awen

I love to connect in this way to the earth and all things, by knowing I am a part of it all, as it is all a part of me… all of me, contributing to the wheel of life.

Life is a moment and in that moment, all moments exist. Life can appear fleeting or be forever in full consciousness. There is no separation between who we once were in the scheme of things, are now or will be “one day”, for all is a continuum.

Complex thoughts, and yet not, unless one thinks in straight lines, past, present, future rather than in circles, and cycles of ascension and descension… expansion and contraction, filling up and emptying out.

There again, perhaps our very challenge is overthinking. Does nature think, “I’m a daisy; I wanted to be a rose.” Does an amber-coloured leaf in autumn, wish to be green?

As children, we fight to maintain our identity until parental expectation, educational institutions and peer pressure, forces competition, whittling away at our personality, character and psyche until we’re swamped, drowning, in other’s expectations of how they perceive we should be. We’re moulded by circumstance.

This is the pivotal moment, when we can realise, we are in fact, our inner parent or teacher, continuing to hear and be instructed by the echo of their physical counterparts instead of learning to simply be ourselves.

The thing is… nature doesn’t judge how we behave, how we express ourselves or criticise who we intrinsically are, with or without societies trappings… just as a daisy doesn’t wish to be a rose.

Letting go of guilt-induced reactions to how others respond to our internal change, can be like running a marathon… but when does the adult self, stop apologising for who they are, despite the constant inner and outer critique.

Nature doesn’t judge the leaves falling, to strip branches bare, or new leaves budding on near-naked limbs.

Life in all its ages and stages is a precious gift so why waste it, desiring to be something we were not designed to be? Isn’t this a unique wonder in itself?

Observing nature, we see there are few straight lines, except those we create. Nothing is linear. Droplets of water constantly change shape to adapt and are a part of a greater body be it a droplet, an ocean or small pond. If we understand everything is energy in constant motion, where there is a void space, something always rushes to fill it and there is no judgment in the process. Unless we ourselves, judge that filling as good or bad and this, dependent on where our thoughts are leading us.

If we can reconnect to nature’s cycles, movements, brief pauses, breath held and let go… a beating heart, a pulse within myriad pulses, we simply become. Every cell becomes luminous with cell-wisdom-memory of everything experienced, and in the remembering, remembers its source.

When we become aware, strength lies in the allowance of emptiness and in not filling empty spaces. In this knowing, we can choose substance to fill the void, and in fact always do, even by not choosing. Waiting, empty, gives us clarity to know what we truly desire. I speak not of “having” for the sake of it …because it’s the most recent fad or gadget, but more the awareness, “being in emptiness” can bring. It has its own taste, smell, sound, sensation and there is nothing to fear there, except the proverbial fear itself.

My waking and sleeping moments, fill with the rhythm and scent of nature’s cycles rather than the tick-tock of the business world. Although that said, I run my own studio… one has to live, but the key is to find the ultimate balance between the perceived mundane and the “spiritual life” …and there we have it – everything is spirit/energy, and therefore, spiritual… sacred.

Hollowing out
emptying
Seeking the purpose of life,
in simply being
Giving up
the fight for more,
allows unhindered flow

Living… simply being
with no place
left to go
Past
present
future
merges
the well of life
upsurges

The wheel spins
on and round
All places,
all seasons
begin and end
…on sacred ground.

The ocean tides, whittle away at the shoreline as we wear away our lives, often in needless struggles for understanding.

All energy is in motion constantly, in waves and pulses, just as our body is in flow and flux, cyclical birth to death, with each waxing and waning moon. We are ultimately 78% fluid. Our body is at the mercy of those internal and exterior tides unless we can be observant, present in awareness as those tides turn. Thus, we can see ourselves not as helpless puppets, but empowered by those very tides, toward the shores of creative consciousness by our own choices.

Our natural state
of being
is magick
Moving between
full, exhilarant joy
and oft, comedy tragic
Spaces between
filled with
liquid notes sublime
in cycles spinning
adhering to the rhyme
Diaphonous, silken threads
on the loom of time
fading in and out
annual, biannual, diurnal
We are but a blip
in life eternal

Walk softly… make wise choices… Awen /|\

Penny

You can now find me at my website http://pennyreillyauthor.com for direct book purchases.

Writing for the muse of seasons… A Wild Spirit…

Autumn for me is the season of the muse… she arrives in the rustle of dry leaves underfoot and the soft earthy scents of moss and mud.

I decided to begin the first chapter of A Wild Spirit (now that the the layout and ideas are more firmly strung together (rather than rattling around like wooden beads on a thread), with the season of autumn as she wanders through my psyche, trailing long sleeves of frost and dew, through the icy portal towards winter.

She’s such a delicate entity, made of pure reason and yet prone to throw off the season’s delicately coloured skeins and stride along in white and silver, moon-struck lace, just to catch one unawares… sprinting ahead with random ideas, thoughts and dreams of a final completion to another year and the beginning of another book… my tenth.

Yet, in this season of withdrawal, when leaves fall, let loose by the retreat of sap and energy, we too may go within and seek out the next phase of our being. Just as I attempt to do same… there she is, entering my dreams with odd sounds and symbols. Clattering around like a cook in a kitchen who can’t find the right implements to create a feast, all in my sleeping psyche.

At first she leaves only remnants for story, prose, art or poetry but then in she comes with the rubber mallet, leaving larger deposits of data for my battered brain to work through and it’s precisely at this moment it’s time to retreat to the studio… no matter the given hour, to write or paint until she leaves me to my slumbers…

As this inner dialogue progresses, amounts of information are downloaded in huge juicy bites (sometimes, sound-bites) then it’s left to me to conjure it into some sort of order, understandable for mortal ingestion.

When spirit speaks
in muffled tones
and autumn drifts
into wintry zones
you can feel the calling
in your very bones
…speaking the rhythm of nature

When mind clouds gather
and winter winds roar
the muse enters
through a forgotten door
taking your mind to leap and soar
…singing the rhythm of nature

When the mind is free
to wandering
allowing the time
for pondering
a landscape appears
beyond all mortal fears
…whispering the rhythm of nature

…and so the journey of creation begins as I dive into wintry solitude with my whispering muse.

Walk softly… listen to the season’s muse… Awen /|\

What dreams are made of…

Naturally, there are those things we need for basic comfort and safety… a roof over our head, clean water and fresh food, loving relationships, community and family friendships… this goes without saying but objects do not bring lasting happiness.

Just for a moment, in that ‘wherever’ space you reside in this moment, stand still. Close your eyes and simply focus on your breath… then consciously shift to a four count breath in and eight count breath out, which allows the lungs to clear the stale air from the bottom of the lungs fully. You may feel a little dizzy if you’re not used to truly emptying out your lung capacity, but then there should come a sense of euphoria at being in ‘clean, full breath’ mode…

When we find this space on a more constant level, we begin to relax into our day more easily and no matter where we travel through the day, we remain more and more in this space of awareness until we no longer have to think about the getting there, we just are there.

The hum of bees can bring you that same feeling… the purr of a cat, wind in the trees, the tap, tap, rhythmic tap of a branch against your window, the mournful cry of curlew… even a gentle snore of a close partner can soothe and relax the diaphragm and release breath deep from within… stress held in our very bones…

Today’s stresses puts a burden on us… changing our way of being constantly in angst and easing the way to a more conscious approach leads to simply being… in our work, in relationships, family crisis… all emotions are better handled… more kindly and intuitively handled, when we come from a place of inner peace, leading us on into inner strength.

With our mind clear, we better know what action to take rather than acting on impulse in sticky situations from a base of fear.

Simple thoughts and actions, yet simplicity is the key to everything, whittling down complexity into bite-sized pieces. Tackling the frustrating need for things, perceived to be out of reach… realising objects are mostly on a want not need basis, especially if they don’t come under the simpler needs of life, which in turn releases the fear lack.

This is the space within, from which I write and/or paint. Connected to nature allows a quasi download of information to flow. I recognise it by the ease of it and by not needing to stress about the process or worry that if I don’t get it down quickly, it will disappear. Thoughts disappear but this space remains. It’s a combination of seeing and listening that goes beyond stressing about a particular context. Editing comes much later, after the whole piece is written.

To be in this space most of the time here at home on the farm amongst the wildlings is where it all begins and ends. It can be naturally triggered by a sight, a scent, a sound, or a fleeting feeling of something ‘other’ occurring. An image can trigger words and words can trigger an image to form in my artwork… nothing happens in isolation and thus, we find a wholeness in all of our senses combined and individually. When we apply this to our ability to dream, we create whole new possibilities for understanding our existence, which includes acceptance of the fact that we are creating our own life and purpose… hopefully giving us the reason for being rather than constantly asking the universe to tell us what to do or to make our ‘purpose’ known to us.

in this space, we get to decide and create that purpose…

Deep within
the wild dreamer stirs
awakening from slumber
as change occurs
Be willing to sense
how your own needs are met
Stay awake… be aware
lest your dreams you forget
You are the dreamer
and you are the dream
One and the same
it’s within to be seen
You have slept long enough
wake up human-kin
Awaken the wild dreamer
find your truth
find your magic
…within

Walk softly… edit the dream when it no longer describes your purpose… Awen /|\

Penny

We dream… we all dream, sadly mostly of ‘one day when,’ with little appreciation of today, this moment and the fact that we’re here, alive, sentient, uniquely individual and that we can make a difference wherever we are on this beautiful earth home by needing/wanting less…

Summer peak and autumn rush… and the word, entitlement…

Late summer rains arrived… timely after a dry spell and we had temperatures nothing nearly as aggressive as the bush fires in the Grampians and other regions… it would seem that every year, just as it gets warm and dry, our hills drop in temperature and the autumn mists arrive, cooling the ground to create our green oasis and tiny birds… fairy wrens and honey eaters arrive to sip at water droplets and nectar alike.

Hawthorn berries are ripened early in the arctic cold snap and the produce coming in at the moment keeps me on my toes.

Where the rest of this article went, I really don’t know but stay tuned and the next post will follow through.

Walk softly… Be gentle… Awen /|\

Penny

Nature’s fast lane… around the farm and in my studio…

Nature is in a hurry this summer… we don’t usually harvest quite so many tomatoes this early in January and the continuum is normally into May/June for the season to end. Many are still coming on and the harvest is now a daily practice again… soon I’ll start passata making, kasundi relish, dehydrate to make an intense powder to rehydrate for pizza and/or pasta sauces or oven slow roasted to preserve in oil or freeze.

In the same theme, elder, rowan and hawthorn berries are well on the way, which to me, indicates a short intense summer and an early autumn, manifesting.

Our cherry season is the best in many years and it’s always a race to pick and process them before the bloom, so to speak, is off the cherry… happily mixing metaphors here 😏

Self sufficiency is about preserving, (and as mentioned many times, not about hoarding), as much as possible in the way of healthy produce and understanding there are multiple uses and ways to preserve the goodies. Freezing, dehydrating, pickling, conserves, bottling in syrups or alcohol to name but a few. Every year I discover new methods despite many years of growing, harvesting and preserving food that sees us through winter, allowing us to share, both fresh and preserved foods.

I often freeze produce first to preserve them when I can’t process fast enough before they decay. Cherries, for instance, can be frozen with their stones left in. This also makes pitting easier on defrosting as they tend to be a little softer than fresh from the tree, which is ideal for jam making or for tart fillings, syrups, juices etc… let’s face it a harvest of 75 kg is huge and not something two people can eat alone but sharing both harvesting and the loot is a wonderful and fun community endeavour.

Preserving in alcohol is a simple way to create both boozy-soaked cherries and a syrup, versatile in their uses, such as pouring over icecream, (adults only) adding to tart fillings or simply as a syrup in a glass of bubbles or a cocktail. Brandy, vodka, gin, port, wine etc., all make a wonderful preservative together with a little sugar, lemon juice, orange peel, spices such as star anise, cinnamon, vanilla bean etc., and the purchased spirits don’t have to be the most expensive brands, either.

To start from scratch with producing a delicious cherry mead for the cold season to come is a delightful experiment, using honey, lemon, yeast and sugar for the natural ferment process and of course, cherries.

The bottles shown above will be turned upside down every couple of days to make sure the sugars are distributed through the liquid… alcohol dissolves the sugar fast but sugar can also sit on the bottom for longer than practical and if not shaken up a little, slows down the ferment process.

Next will come apples, pears and autumn raspberries and blueberries… beans are making another round of flowers and I’ll be planting another sort for a longer season. Cucumber, melon and pumpkin are all flowering and if their flower promise makes good, then another major spell in the kitchen will arrive.

Beetroot are just about ready to harvest and as they come on all at the same time, I’ll wash and freeze for later pickled beet or slice thinly and dry for a vegetable powder or chips to nibble.

Next comes onions and I might experiment with making a powder for winter use and so that too many don’t bolt to seed quickly. I noticed packs of dried vegetable powder at the local supermarket, advertising a way to get an intense amount of vegetable into the diet but too much is also not a good thing to overload the system with and at $11.00 for 250g, that’s outrageous. Powders are great to preserve a glut and to use when a particular vegetable is either too expensive or unavailable due to crop harvest issues but can never replace freshly grown produce.

Then will come the battle to net grapes and hazelnuts so that we actually get to eat some. We may well leave some for the birds but trust me, they don’t leave a scrap for us if left unchecked.

Everything is in abundance as storm clouds gathered again this afternoon… so I disappeared into my studio to sit it out and make some inroads into finishing a few pieces I’ve been working on and also little by little setting up and Etsy shop for people to buy my prints and cards online. A safer platform for both myself and my clients, thus far, so, as they say, ‘watch this space!’

You can view from the various galleries right here on my blogsite, prints, cards and books to give you an idea of what’s on offer…

Meanwhile, it’s back to the kitchen to check on tomatoes in the dehydrator and then time in the studio setting up the store…

Walk softly… juggling life… Awen /|\

We have to get back to the garden…

The Garden… it has so many connotations, from ancient lore, to references of a simpler life… not easier, but simpler in so many ways…

There was a song from my youth written in 1970 by Joni Mitchell and just recently her words keep revisiting me, as her lyrics suggest, ‘we have to get ourselves back to the garden.’

This isn’t just about pottering in a garden or even taking a stroll in the park, rather more, finding a deeply rooted connection with all that is and looking at why we left or as many seem to think based on religious stories, kicked out for being naughty… well right now we are more than naughty and not just in the biblical sense, because the world that sustains us is diminished and creatures who have as much right to be in this proverbial garden as us, are dying out in droves and we are apparently blind!

When did we decide we didn’t need nature?

When did we disconnect from her energy and bounty. When did we believe her resources were infinite and that we could plunder them endlessly.

When did food, created practically in science labs, become more important than the growing of food in a garden or wild crafted gently from the environment in season. Yet, everything, absolutely everything comes from nature. Even man made creations have their foundation in her and she is the only planet we know of where we can survive… so why are we destroying our unique, crazy paradise when there is no Planet B?

I know there are many like-minded people “out there,” I speak to many daily and the regular posts of information on climate conditions means nobody can claim ignorance and yet, governments approved more coal and gas harvesting, more old growth forest pillaging and as a result many creatures have lost their home territories and we feel we have the right to this… the end result may well be that we will lose ours!

Well… that got that off my chest but, that said, does anyone else feel as if there is no return from the horror of the world right now… and I won’t get started on the war, madness and mayhem? If you’re interested, there are some very strange, even frightening predictions from various oracles around the globe, from Peru to Russia… not for the faint hearted.

Meanwhile in our wee, sacred wild place, summer has reached her peak early… things are ripening and ready for harvest early… the weather has been interesting, to say the least… extremes between overnight and mid afternoon have widened considerably and, although summer, we have had early morning temps as low as 1C. While the rest of the state sweltered in temps into the 40C, high humidity and hot nights, our hottest day was about 31C, thankfully.

Our haven is rich in wildlife and birds… they no longer fear me and there are many familiar ‘faces’ among them but also new ones turn up unexpectedly, moving through for a while and then on.

Life continues in a gentle way, following the changing seasons in rhythm with both solar and lunar cycles because within them, everything is revealed… nothing is hidden once we attune.

In the garden and greenhouses…

It’s looking to be an early harvest for produce… everything seems to be coming on at once and work will begin to dry, freeze or preserve surplus, jams are on the agenda for today but that doesn’t mean our daily intake of nourishing foods is limited… we tend to graze through the summer berry patches and our menu is simple with summer fruits, salads and vegetables in season, topped up by what was frozen or preserved last summer/autumn… it’s not about hoarding as some have said about self sufficiency, rather about not having to dash to the shops for things we have no idea of re their origin, treatment (sprays and gassing) or road miles and the feeling of satisfaction, when you know exactly where your produce is coming from.

Planting diverse foods and flowers brings all kinds of wonderful insects to the garden… rarer native bees and a host of ladybugs, working to keep the greenhouse free of white fly and aphids for their free supper. A large, pretty flock of Cape White butterflies arrived for the first time ever in spring, pollinating our fruit trees and the result is more fruit than we’ve ever seen… they moved on and it was then the native bees returned.

In the studio…

To express my hard working but gentle way of life, new creations unfolded through the last months that give a glimpse of something elusive to catch, which is the community of likeminded we live on the edge of.

There are the farmers who’s families have been here for generations, others who are living in semi retirement or who are pursuing, like us, an alternative means of earning a basic living through selling flowers, art, books, textiles etc., and of course, produce at the local markets. (rates still have to be paid and things we don’t/can’t produce purchased).

Each has sought and hopefully found that gentler way.

There are wine makers, cider makers, boutique spirit distilleries, berry farms, garlic growers, all contributing to the local communities and the health of our environment… there are passionate environmentalists among us who are well studied and have professional consultants in their areas of sustainability and we all found our way to this little spot in rural Victoria… I never did believe in coincidences!

So while I craft away at my art and the next book, very slowly taking form, I think of the rat race life once led and commiserate with those caught on the proverbial treadmill. In order to leave said rat race behind, one has to want more in terms of peace and freedom but less in terms of status, things and more, more, more of everything.

We lack for nothing but then it’s not the throw away kind of things… not prestigious, not empty and sterile but full of life, (we party too), community and simplicity…

We found our way back to the garden…

Walk softly… sow the seeds… Awen /|\

Sow the seeds

weave the web in time

Weave, sow, grow

in wisdom

in knowledge

of the life stream

and the soul spark

of intelligence

breathe,

all one

Awen

Cheers,

Penny

All art, photography and words, copyright’s Penny Reilly

Most days are balanced, but…

Spring is generally wild up here but there is usually a more balanced advance through the months… this year, some trees were in full leaf before others had even shown buds and in reverse order of the species expected habits… plover had their chicks and only one survived of four and so early for hatching in this cold year.

Balance had gone from the landscape leaving unknown terrain… different images to reflect on and wet, wild weather besides, then a warm surge came and everything exploded into life.

I predict a long spring and a short summer again but with the intense growth nature is exhibiting up here in the hills, La Nina is showing her face again with mega storm cells and temps lowering overnight to autumnal frostiness… the gap between cold and warm becoming more extreme.

Are these the changes we need to observe as the sun gives off massive solar flares, volcanoes stir, the earth rumbles and Betelgeuse, the red supergiant (Alpha Orionis), in the constellation Orion, is looking to go supernova according to Astronomers and the explosion if/when it occurs will be visible in the sky. Will it have impact on us? Who knows! It just gives thought to the possibilities of unexpected change as we navigate our way through a tulmultuous time on our planet.

Perhaps Mother Nature’s shenanigans will bring us back to the core of what’s important to us (and the remaining species still existent) as food security is threatened, prices rise and common item costs go through the existential roof.

So… how do we restore a balance that is beneficial for all, not just for a few wealthy ‘men’ who take control of the world’s finances to the detriment of those who most need a lift just to make ends meet. ‘Men’ who believe in autocracy over democracy, white supremacy and the basic ‘woke’ brigade… and we’re seeing it world-wide, this terrifying shift backwards, as they seek to grab more control of all we think feel and do, particularly as women. Roe vs Wade, the rise, of Domestic Violence and Cohesive Control cases, just a drop in the proverbial ocean. Never mind how women find themselves there, after Mr Right suddenly morphs into Mr ‘I own you,’ the point is why men need to exhibit such control of another free thinking human being in the first place… yes, let’s look there. They see it as a strength when really it exhibits a raw inability to truly feel, a weakness in the need to even think of ownership over another’s will.

So here we are, on this tiny, in the scheme of things, planet, spinning in space and we don’t see our vulnerability? As many have said, there is no Planet B and yet still scientists seek another place for us to inhabit even now… just in case we wreck this one beyond compare, as if the very thought was okay. Can they not see, this jewel is irreplaceable, with its diversity of life forms and resources, used as bargaining chips for untold wealth of the already megabuck wealthy… how can we show that our home is not a commodity and reclaim a simple lifestyle of connection to all.

My greatest solace is my home space close to the edge of the forest, where daily, creatures come and go, making their way up the hill to the farmlands and our wild ponds and creeks. More recently, to specific spots where I place big bowls of water and where we all interact without disturbing one another… simply coming and going, respecting spaces between.

So I wander on fine days to the top of the hill, overlooking the forest and sit beneath an ancient sycamore tree to find some peace of mind… to cool emotions as they skyrocket between anger and deep concern for what may come and what is already a fact across the globe, of death and destruction by ‘men’ seeking control at the cost of their own kin. I re-find, rekindle that balance within me, for it’s the only place it truly exists.

I sit with my back against the ancient sycamore… pressing my face into its soft, mossy covering, I weep and the scent of harebells fills my senses with honey… I’m home…

When the world weighs me down

with its noise and violent attitude

I sneak away to lie on damp earth

to breath a sigh of gratitude

When horror edges in on peripheral vision

and wars brood within the worlds devision

I seek solace in a bee-sung song

a breath of rarified air

a beam of light, a prism

To see the world as whole is to give joy permission

Each of nature’s notes

is strung between realms of mystery

and thankful for my own decisions

to live in beauty

to let the world move on

…the rest, is history

Walk softly… wishing for you to find your balance… Awen /|\

Penny

We cavorted toward an early spring and then came arctic winds…

While icy rime coats every blade of grass, already bluebells are breaking through and Daphne is showing spring blossom buds. Crocus and Calendula flower, lend a vibrancy to otherwise what have been icy, mizzle-drizzle days. Spring it seems, is in a hurry, despite arctic weather. Is it because she knows, with the climate change occurring, she must hasten the process of propagation before time runs low?

Across the globe I observe the opposites to the geographical norm in weather patterns and behaviour. We have stirred the climate pot and I’m really not sure if it can be reversed, unless everyone is prepared to their bit, forgoing owning stuff for a simpler life.

Today, after intense wild storms overnight and continuing winds, we have definitely seen possibly five seasons in one day… or just in the last three hours actually. By the calendar, spring is officially here but we have had snow. Robins are still with us, though… bright flames of colour zipping through the landscape and spring doesn’t fully happen until they leave us.

We’re post Imbolc and spring equinox now and the land is beginning to truly come to life… I snuck the first early strawberry today… but shhhhhh… keep that to yourself. 🤭

This lovely day is however, in isolation as yet again a polar front approaches. At least the seedlings are safe from harm in the greenhouses, where yesterday bees hummed their honey-drone song and I warmed my bones, weeding and planting.

There is a place that we can go

beyond the muddy tales of woe

where waters pool in depths that glow

with dreams of hope renewing

Where bee-sung songs drone of peace and plenty

bird chorus sings of a life never empty

With nature’s rhythms gently flow

barely rippling the grass

…walk softly

In stillness lies a sense of peace

within the mist and the sound of wings

and in the stillness a song up-drifts

as bird calls, the heart uplifts

Our senses soar, in stillness growing

In deepest silence, across waters flowing

In nature’s rhythm gently flow

barely rippling the grass

…walk softly

So, just a short chat from me today… I could rant about the state of the world, disappointment in humankind particularly in areas of politics, climate change, wars… but really, it mostly falls on deaf ears as we go about the daily business of life and finding sanity…

Walk softly…

Penny

Beyond the thinning veil…

Time passes… we’re beyond Samhain and Winter Solstice; the year flies by. Through the thinning veil and beyond, galloping towards Imbolc at a mind altering speed.

Already life is pushing up below ground… crocus, belladonna, even daffodil are pushing through the frozen ground… rain has eased the way of their passing from below into the light of extending days and shortening nights.

Calendula flowers opened just post Solstice and crocus are lending a splash of colour, albeit all too short a journey. How bizarre is this. It’s only July.

I have been absent… sorry. Family matters and the loss of two family members, plus a couple of friends, kept me otherwise engaged with the process we all face through our lives… that of grief. All their passings coincided with the sixth anniversary of our eldest daughter. We have decided that May and June may not be admitted into our calendar anymore… I see the sign, ‘no admittance granted!’ I may have to invent some, fill-ins to replace the two rogue months but sadly, they also hold several family birthdays that certainly can’t be ignored.

GRIEF…

Scoured clean

Hollowed out

Grief is never prepared

Loss and despair

Relinquishing control

giving self over

no sense to make

Lives take their course

What is the source

that gives

but with little warning

takes

Time heals

perhaps

but even then

the momentary lapse

takes control

gripping the soul

opening the wound

to the edge

in a forgotten pledge

to never forget

never regret

a soul-walk

a soul-talk

before passing

Surrender

to the light and dark

in equal measure

pain and pleasure

…we are made of both

Surrender

to wellness

that boosts your joy

your immunity

and sickness

that forces you to stop

when you will not

there is no impunity

Surrender

to the world you see

beyond the personal lens

of how you think

life should be

Each believes

their truth is relevant

just as you

ask your gods

to be benevolent

we cannot know

the journey of another

even when

it appears either gentle

or malevolent

Surrender

to the interlude that is you

grow

in the seeded space

of the silent observer

…without agenda

Life continues, the family gathered and we find home in each other’s company and shared grief…

HOME…

Just as we evolve

and grow

a building

thrusts itself aloft

Foundations sunk

into the earth

our feet should seek

this depth

…to strengthen

and yet, to sink in

…to survive

against fire or flood

Warmth

inside a building

…a home

in all the wordly toil

and so

with foundations

in the soil

we hold steady

Heart and hearth as one

…to nurture

…to feed

both brain and belly

To love

to give solace

to those in need

Soaring rooves above

and under eaves

an attic snug

from those same

foundations dug

…grown, to shelter

from the rain

and in that loft

our brain

can assemble anew

safe from those storms

that brew

In this solid structure grew

the plans for family

A building

wrought through work

with ancient timbers, honed

by skin and bone

…a home

Walk softly… let yourself grieve… Awen /|\

Blog, portfolio, books by… pennyreillyartistbeyondthegate.com

and at Facebook and Instagram

https://www.facebook.com/pennybeyondthegate

https://www.instagram.com/penny_at_beyond_the_gate_art

https://www.amazon.com/author/pennyreilly