ancestors – Penny Reilly Artist Beyond the Gate

Dreaming the future…

What does your core tell you about the current way of living?

How does environmental and human distress, impact on your daily consciousness?

Do you get out of bed each day and continue the same old same old that no longer satisfies any but your basic income needs but too panicked to realise any alternatives? Are you living your life in fear or joy?

If you tick yes, to any of the above, what are you doing to navigate the pitfalls of continuing on the same path versus those of changing to a more holistic approach?

Can you envisage an alternative route that still pays those unavoidable bills, brings you joy, fulfils and covers your basic needs without the stress of the tick tock world we live in?

Take a moment… slow down and listen to birds calling, trees rustling bare branches… can you smell late winter scents… breath… or can you only hear traffic and smell car fumes?

I’ve been talking to trees
they reply
in rustling commentary
Listening to birds
along the promontory
They whisper and scream
but the message is the same
Go to the hills
find the silence
…leave the noise again
Where will you be
when the earth makes her escape
Where will you live
with earth’s shuddering earthquake
What good is a sterile life
fed from supermarket stores
What will you eat
when they have closed their doors
You cannot eat
your botox lips
or taloned fingertips
You cannot feed your soul
stale bread and chips
Take stock as winds change
What do the trees whisper
…do you listen
to their wisdom of old
Where will you be
when solar winds set you free
safe in your bed
…or outside in the cold

I woke up this morning recalling vividly a long dream I had last night. I was walking the boundaries of our land, trailing delicate long sticks, one in each hand. In my left was Willow and in my right, Alder. I was humming a tune that I don’t consciously know or remember, but it still resonates with me as if I know it well from somewhere deep inside.

Moisture rose from the ground in the grooves the sticks were making as I trailed them behind me. Our land disappeared into the mist, a canopy forming like a dome over and below it. I woke feeling nurtured and protected from the everyday madness of the world.

What does your core tell you about this current way of living, so many cling to and yet so many are lost and entangled in, some, without truly knowing why?

What does your future dreaming consist of?

What can you do, even on the smallest scale, to create a sense of community and unity with neighbours, family and friends?

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 and uniquely individual. We can become disheartened, forget that we can make a difference wherever we are on this beautiful earth home simply by needing/wanting less… not playing into the hands of the 1%.

What I refer to here isn’t 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 of the garden 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!

Where
do you go
when the enormity
the tragedy
gives you no space
to breath
I wish at times
I was at one
with the breeze
…not the winds of war
knocking at every door
…without exception
No, this breeze
mischievous
wild
grants hope
without perfection
Simply raw
asking for nothing
giving more
than the tangled framework
of twisted minds
playing at kings and heroes
in a countdown
of digital ones and zeros
…stealing the light of souls
as the world rolls
leaking corruption
into oblivion
No
this breeze lifts me
away from the gloom
no sense of doom
filtering light and life
through the room
expounding courage
for others who need
yet, the 1%,
aware of their deeds
we all must confront
Stand up
let there be
no escape for them
…or thus
on that playful breeze
there will be
no escape for me
…for us

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/fuel consumption but the feeling of satisfaction, when you know exactly where your produce is coming from.

If every person did just a little, we could feed the world.

So while I craft away at my art and the next book that’s very slowly taking form, and winter vegetables are harvest ready in the greenhouse, 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, despite high rates and the general cost of items we simply cannot grow or make ourselves, but then they’re not the throw away kind of things… not prestigious, not empty and sterile but full of life, (we party too), community and simplicity…

When did we decide we didn’t need nature?

I know there are many like-minded people “out there,” I speak to them daily and see the regular posts of information on climate conditions, which 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!

AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON DATA CENTRES!!!! Yes that’s me yelling, then.

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?

I ask you again… 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 we allow bees to die for the convenience of being fed by conglomerates rather than farmers, gardeners, local produce merchants or from our own back yards?

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?

Start slowly… deeply analyse your needs. What are you waiting for that delays taking those first steps?

You don’t need a squillion acres of land to begin a journey of rediscovering what our ancestors always knew and with today’s kitchen and garden books/videos and a few simple aids, we can quickly become garden and kitchen pros. At least enough to fill a pantry with healthy fare, enough to share.

A small garden, a verandah or balcony, a little greenhouse, or even a kitchen bench is a place to begin a new journey of discovery.

Yes, we planned ahead by observing the trends evident to all and we made the time earlier on (despite raising four children and working full time for many years), yet here we are, dedicated to the natural world, enjoying our life with no need for influencers, dedicated only to their own self image and sales quotas.

Dare to dream the future… dare to dream there will be a bright one for your children, grandchildren… great grandchildren…

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

Penny

Ebb, flow, shift, align, flux…

Everything is in constant flux. Not only in the seasonal shift, but in the whole vibratory force of a changing world. Already we hurtle towards Samhain and the dark half of the year commences. The veil thins and as consciousness reveals, everything we think about or imagine, becomes real somewhere so therefore, if we can balance how we see the world, not letting destructive forces rule, we can allow consciousness to shift, elegantly. It takes more than just prayers and dreams. Action is needed. We need to know who we truly are and by this I mean not to impress or to say, ‘look at me,’ despite challenges from others who may be uncomfortable with your being other than they imagined… change for many is confronting on many levels. This doesn’t mean you must dance to another’s way of seeing you.

The air is sweet, birds are everywhere – there’s a cormorant on the edge of the pond; wings outstretched, head back to catch each drop as rain turns to a fine mist, cleansing her of parasites and dust. She preens and grooms, flapping her great wings occasionally, sending droplets flying.

Earth is wakeful as the shift begins towards winter… I feel her tremble in the unusual warmth of a new day, when the sun shines warm on both our skins and tiny wildflowers burst open under the canopy of, gold and amber leaves on sycamore, elder, oak and birch. Winds whisper secrets to the flitting Weebills catching sleepy insects. Seasonal dried grasses rustle as small creatures pass. Branches lift their heavy limbs, their fragile, drying leaves cupped toward a duck-egg blue, sky waiting to accept the rain.

There is movement on my peripheral… nothing of this world as the Wildlings stir… shifting shape like pellucid mist and then solidifying, to be seen… twig limbed… green wings rasping, against woody skin. Imaginings… I’ll let you be the judge of that, but then you don’t see through these eyes…

Wild Spirits dwell

in the most unlikely places

They may surprise you

with their presence

in the everyday

as much as

in the quiet places

of your mind.

You can find

the wildness

of childhood innocence

by finding

the magical awareness

lost to so many

hidden within

our mundane lives

but this doesn’t mean

they’ve disappeared for good.

Look into the cracks

and crevices of tree bark

of rough textured stone

in the wild fragrance

of a fleeting, musky perfume

sent on the wind

Find them

in the wild places

of your heart.

Wild Spirits

are waiting

for you to notice them

to remember them

and in so doing

they may well help you

to reconnect

…to the Soul of Earth

Autumn harvest is waning and winter crops are slowly maturing. It’s wonderful to sit in a cool room, windows open to the breeze as I write. It’s nearly time for greenhouse clean-ups, bringing in the last green tomatoes to ripen slowly in a warm room or to hang upside down in the greenhouse to finish the process, keeping their roots moist. Once the beds are cleared the oncoming crops are covered to protect them, for when the hens are let in to do the job of digging, running pest control and manuring the beds.

In the wild and on the farm, rosehips, hawthorn, rowan, crabapple, blackberries, beechnuts, hazelnuts and chestnuts are ready to wildcraft. Tiny field mushrooms grow, cheek by jowl with their poisonous counterparts of fly agaric and puffball. Wild mullein, sorrel, selfheal, yarrow, tansy, fennel, garlic, cress, dandelion, plantain and such, along with my cultivated culinary and medicinal herbs, are ready to gather and hang for tinctures, balms, sachets and herbal infusions… garlic honey ferment and wine vinegar are also on the list.

Nature tugs at me now, guiding me to those hidden delicate herbs and berries. Paddocks are green and the dandelions have regrouped, flowering again in profusion. Everywhere holds the scent of water and wet earth. Little birds bathe in puddles and ponds… a kookaburra calls late, indicating rains to come. Storms have been spectacular and the bats came inside, chasing large moths and march flies that snuck in when the doors were open. This year has been rich in Aurora Australis activity; electrical storms caused wildfires and lightning brought a spectacular display of nature’s fireworks. A light show of raw power. Fire, flood and sunshine. A climate of extremes that my head and eyes can’t ever take in, but all my senses do.

Samhain always brings me into balance, even more than any equinox cycle… everything ebbs, flows, shifts and aligns creating a natural flux of seasonal change. Farmers battle to feed us through climate change and political upheaval and all need to learn to be responsible, at least in part, for their own food production, wherever possible. A huge movement is afoot that can teach these balanced ways of eventually, memory takes over through ancestral origins.

Nature is the decider of any given seasonal crop and like everything, has its own struggles to combat. Death for any creature is inevitable including us and a disassociation with nature will mean in return she will have no association with you. Your garden fails if your out of balance with her rhythm, your house floods or burns because you haven’t made your motivations clear to her or perhaps are even aware yourself, that you are a part of the greater flow of her ways. All things come from nature, even the knowledge that created science, astronomy and space.

It smells heavenly as the rain storms impregnate the soil and the sticky heat releases the crude essential oils from the eucalypt in the surrounding forest …wild fennel adds an exotic pungency to the mix as lichens free their earthy moss fragrance along with their spores, to the air.

Everything lifts their faces skywards as the soothing, thirst quenching rains of autumn turn the paddocks green, wild dandelion nodding as they cast off their puff balls to be taken where they will…

…and I can see summer’s yield to autumn as hedgerows change their coats from green to amber and ripening blackberries lend a splash of rich, current colour to nature’s palette …the mornings are cool and tiny spiders are making their webs from grass stem to stem across the ground …droplets of shining rain cover each thread with silver and my thoughts begin to drift towards retreating into winter.

She’s changing her gown from green to gold

the harvest is ripening as the year grows old

Mabon’s first kiss was felt in the air

as elders ripen in hedgerows fair

What do you wish for your harvest this year

Have you laboured long for your fruits to appear

Let go the old growth, let the leaves fall

the fruits of you harvest will come when you call

With winter’s approach, I like to dive deep into the notion of communication with the ancestors… a slow evolving toward humanity that shows us we are connected, aware, a part of her. Our brains development has led us to hive off from the planet and perhaps in our arrogance as a species we have told ourselves we don’t need her, but when we use her the way we have, surely it’s no different to treating your oldest friend badly. We have the wisdom of science and the knowledge of technology but reconnecting to the planet, our roots and ancestry, seems to be abandoned by so many for the shiny tick-tock world of illusion. Her resources aren’t infinite, however… she is not a commodity and she is, as we are, made from the stuff of the stars… we are inseparable.

To be continued…

Walk softly… walk with the ancestors… Awen /|\