Jack, SammyBear and I head off down the cottage lane for a walk.
The clock salutes the hour of ten, as night begins its descent in the west of Ireland.
As we move towards Midsummer, the light holds sway.
I carry words in my head as we make the descent along the little lane, planted on either side with generous intent.
The words were spoken by a Native American many years ago, but are as relevant today as they were then…perhaps more so.
“Wherever forests have not been mowed down, wherever the animal is recessed in their quiet protection, wherever the earth is not bereft of four-footed life – that to the white man is an ‘unbroken wilderness.’
But for us there was no wilderness, nature was not dangerous but hospitable, not forbidding but friendly.
Our faith sought the harmony of man with his surroundings; the other sought the dominance of surroundings.
For us, the world was full of beauty; for the other, it was a place to be endured until he went to another world.
But we were wise. We knew that man’s heart, away from nature, becomes hard.”
― Chief Luther Standing Bear
We carry words and music in our heads, most of which seems trivial in reflection.
I have turned many of my favourite poems, quotes and words into mantras of meditation.
Some, like this one, become prayers.
They were wise.
Their wisdom makes our so-called civilisation appear trite in comparison.
As I climb the lane towards Bealtaine, the air is silent.
Birds have gone to roost.
Night is drawing in.
Bats have taken flight.
SammyBear watches with solemn intent.
As Bealtaine Cottage prepares to celebrate it’s thirteenth Midsummer, the tide of life amidst it’s trees and woodland swells.
In this year of the feminine thirteen, I dedicate this sacred space Mother Earth, free from impoverishment of spirit and death…
