I’m in Leeds, at a comic convention and I’m loving it! Surrounded by smart, creative people I bimble from table to table, asking about art techniques, subject matter, medium preferences, processes, dreams… I spent an hour chatting to Dr. Geof, the curator of a fictional tea museum about passion, branding, science and getting art done! I spoke to a guy writing historical comics about bards (bards!) And found a Time Lady, who looks for time between the panels. Not to mention the comics in medicine I’ve just learnt of…
And I’m wondering about attempting to write a comic again. Art and words together, storytelling on the page…
I ponder, is this where the Goblin Circus comes to play? Where dreams are made? .
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I have always dreamed of doing something almost exactly like this, a quiet, persistent wish that I return to again and again but never quite believe it to be possible. One day… a sustainable way of living. A home with wheels. Travelling light (which may be the hardest task of all as I’m such a hoarder!). Blessed by the stars. Taking creativity and performance and magic to people round the country. As a child I was fascinated by the idea of ‘gypsy’ caravans. As a teen I brushed against the idea of being a new age traveller. Both seemed impossible; one a dream of cultural misappropriation, the other drug-addled and full of drama. I toyed with the idea of touring festivals in the summer but wasn’t even sure where to begin… so I didn’t.
And then, the other day this dream wandered across my FB feed. Hedgespoken is a vehicle for the imagination and a beautiful, creative, sustainable home. I am jealous and envious and oh-so excited for them.
I realise I’ve spent most of my life gathering skills suitable for this kind of life including; tarot reading, art-making, singing, acting, writing, holistic therapies, magic, teaching, storytelling and most recently belly dancing and clothes/costume making… I’ve always always dreamed of the romantic idea of the life of a traveller, a wayfarer. The one thing I’ve refused to do, the one thing that would actually make it a possibility, is learn to drive (it terrifies me). Is this self-sabotage? The whole thing seems impractical, impossible and hopelessly romantic. Not to mention that my husband hates the idea of living in a converted bus! And yet…
Still I dream. And now I see more evidence of how it is possible. I make a donation as a spell to help them reach their dream and a wish towards my own. I wonder if I really want to live such a tough lifestyle. If I’m up to it? But then, perhaps it is only as tough as the life I’m living, just in ways I’m unaccustomed to.
For some reason I have spent the last decade in seeming diversion, I’ve dedicated a huge chunk of my life to something I also love, but which seems diametrically opposed to the wayfaring lifestyle – academic philosophy. I adore it. I love lecturing and giving papers. And it feels both part of this dream and something contrasting it.
And so I return to where I am. Let me finish my PhD and continue honing my skills. Let me dream my Wayfaring home into being, even if it exists alongside a home with roots. Even if it only exists for a summer. Let me find the wandering wonder I’ve longed for since I was young enough to dream.
In my heart I am a Wayfarer, though I fear the reality would prove that I only love the idea of it… and perhaps that is why I’ve yet to commit to it!
If you’ve read this far, I thank you and I’d love to hear… What are your weirdest dreams, the ones you return to again and again but never quite can bring yourself to speak aloud?
I’d like to share something I’m very excited about right now and the story of how I’ve found myself shimmying round my day-job-shop when customers aren’t looking!
I’ve always known that I wanted to dance, but could never find the right style.
As a child I tried tap dancing, in my teens I attempted a contemporary dance class – which I mostly remember as running from wall to wall, over and over, never quite got where that was going – throughout my life I’ve read Gabrielle Roth’s books over and over. I tried salsa, which I couldn’t get my feet round… In fact, the only thing that worked for me was whilst at uni when I would go out, step onto the dance floor as soon as the doors opened and only leave to down a pint of water before returning to the dance for as long as the music played.
Until now. Last spring I had five weeks of tribal belly dance classes in the Black Sheep style. The teacher, Lyza, became a friend of mine through connecting afterwards to share dancing. At that point I suspected it would be another phase. A subject I would be excited about for a month or two and then would fade into the background. A few core things have stuck with me long-term but many many other passions come and go. I was secretly certain this might be one of those…
But that excitement didn’t go away. I researched the histories of belly dance. I practised what little I’d learnt under my own steam. I kept hoping to return…
And then Wendy launched an ATS(r) class in March and I couldn’t go! It clashed with the teaching course I was on and the seminars I ran. I looked at it every week, waiting for the course to finish so I could join in. In June, finally, I walked through that door and into a new tribe, Tribal Unity Wales.
I dash to class each Tuesday with joy in my heart. No other hobby has ever had me this excited. Just two months of dancing with Tribal Unity and I managed a fortnight camping and trekking round Amsterdam, bookended by two 16 hour coach journeys, without back pain. (It was our honeymoon, and yes, it was fab!)
And it has so many layers! There is crafting and aesthetics for costuming, researching history, learning new steps, the challenge of getting to grips with them, constant opportunities for improvement, performance, the endorphins of exercise, music, self-expression, the flow of energy, stories, community and friendship, shows to watch, events to explore, cultures to investigate… and there are many different styles to learn about (and perhaps learn one day).
With so much to play with it is no wonder I’ve found myself thinking about it almost constantly!
This Friday we performed at Lampeter’s World Dance festival. I made so many mistakes, almost fell over with soft shoes on a slippery floor, missed cues, got confused… and yet could not stop grinning. I loved it. Dancing with these lovely ladies, sharing something that has brought me so much delight and returned my strength, and challenging myself to improve all combined to fill me with delight. Tribal style belly dance has utterly enchanted me and I feel like I’ve come home.
Friday’s performance, my first time dancing in public:
The moral of this story? Keep looking, keep trying, keep putting that desire out there even when you don’t know exactly what it is you want. Eventually the Universe will bring you to precisely where you need to be. And even if you make mistakes and feel like it is all going wrong, it is still beautiful and the world doesn’t end! It is preparing you for what is to come next…
It isn’t quite as dramatic as Life of Pi, but we’re just drying off from our own water related drama. The road wasn’t flooded last night, but as we left the family behind we came to a corner with water up to my knees and the car just stopped. Shuddered to a halt. Water poured in under the glove-box and panic rose with it.
Adrenaline. That tiger that sharpens your senses.
Or drives you to flap your hands!
Eventually a friend talked us down and we began pushing the car like a boat across a lake.
Necessity. The tiger that means unpleasant things get done.
Boots full of very cold water!
Some very kind strangers helped tow us the rest of the way out of the water and gave us a lift back to Mother’s.
So now we’re sitting with the Tiger of dread as we try to find a way home…
Thankfully we’ve got people we can call. There is support around and the warmth of Xmas Good Will. We will survive. A lesson in surrender at this point. Counting our blessings and staying positive, something good will come of this no doubt!
Not so long ago a parcel arrived in the post. It was addressed to A World Enchanted. I was so excited! I spent months putting together a deck of Oracle cards and for almost a year I’ve been using one I printed myself… now I have a professionally printed deck and three to sell!
The Completed Deck!
I’m really proud of my work and the printed cards are beautiful. It works perfectly for uncovering what is in your heart and the heart of the world and the simple readings I did for others were very well received.
And somehow I’ve completely avoided posting about them here. I haven’t put the 3 decks I have for sale in my shop, I haven’t told you about them properly, I haven’t done anything with them beyond using them for myself.
Why?
Despite how it may appear, I struggle with being visible. I struggle with putting my work out there and allowing it to be seen. I struggle with completing projects and releasing them into the world. Artworks contain such a part of the artist’s spirit that an entire deck of my art makes me very visible and so, sharing them, I feel very vulnerable.
This New Year I am considering ‘Wholeness’ as my word for 2013. A word that includes the concept of completion and of being whole in myself. A word that speaks of safety, strength and holiness. Sacred Completion. A guiding light to help me overcome this block and share more beauty with you.
And today I am posting my Oracle Decks in my shop. There is more to do to complete this project than put the information up, however. I need to spread the word. I need to share this beauty, be seen, be known. So here I write and contemplate where to share with others what I have done!
An Enchantress is… One who enchants;
One who brings beauty, healing and delight to those around her.
One who works magic of the Fae.
One who brings beauty to the world.
One who causes change.
This week I’m looking at what it means that an Enchantress causes change and how that relates to healing. And Circe makes an appearance!
***
Circe
Tranforms
men into beasts
What she sees
their true nature
revealed.
Circe,
Do you know
How their time
Spent four-legged
Healed them
Once returned?
One of the most notable enchantresses in mythology named as such is Circe. She lived upon an island and had the power to transform humans into the animals they appeared to be. You could understand this as her revealing their true nature. Perhaps the men who she changed into pigs couldn’t see how greedy they were being when they tried to steal her treasure. You can guarantee that they understood this after their time with four legs!
Everything is change, constant change. If a key activity of enchantment is the creation of beauty then creating more beauty will include healing as healing is change that leads to wholeness and greater understanding.
An enchantress then heals by causing change. By sharing beauty and joy, by creating glamourie and mirroring those around her and through direct methods of healing she creates space for change and helps others to change themselves.
He held no fear of death and, by the time he went, he was ready for it.
The service was beautiful, he was – among many other things – the Church Warden for St. Bartholomew’s and a veteran of the RAF. The British Legion stood on ceremony, a British flag draped the coffin and the church community gathered round the family.
There were no cut flowers since he hated them, feeling they should be growing instead – a sentiment I can identify with wholeheartedly! I am sure he spoke the language of flowers and trees as they would thrive under his care. I remember when he tended the roses in my father’s garden. My step-mother was horrified, Grampy cut them right down to the ground that autumn… but come spring they grew even stronger and healthier and bigger than ever before.
Once, when I was small, he took me out onto the sea, pulling me behind him in the rubber dinghy we had for seaside holidays. As I floated, slowly sliding across the ocean surface, he gestured to the distant hills. “Sometimes,” he told me, “I can see through this world, into the other world. Death doesn’t scare me because I know that what lies beyond is beautiful, wonderful, an adventure.” I watched the hills as they shimmered with the power of his story and I have carried that moment with me ever since.
As he lay in the hospital and we stood beside him, knowing he wouldn’t wake up again, we said our goodbyes. And I knew he was near, not in the shell of who he was but standing tall and strong, ready for the shimmering world beyond those hills, ready to become a Guardian Angel for his great-grand-daughter, being born as he left this plane, and an Angel watching over all his family.
I am so grateful to my beautiful Grampy, the tree-whisperer, and whenever I step out into the green world now, I feel him near.
Love to you, Grampy, and love to all the family. We’re all thinking of you.
Hawthorn, the tree of the dreamer… a doorway between the worlds… in honour of the man who dreamt of a better world and made it so, quietly, calmly and with a smile that could win over any heart.
The Swift returns. As fast as she left, the warm Sun returns. Life comes with her, to the green lands, budding beneath our watchful gaze. Time to move!
