Tag Archives: Reflection

Writing and whirlwinds

20 Thursday May 2021

Posted by in Enchanted, Following Delight, Magic, Reflections, Witchcraft 101

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Spring arrived, and with it went my focus. It’s always an inspirational time of year for me, the rush of energy bringing so many new ideas, so much potential, that I find myself led astray by beautiful new possibilities… And some things get dropped in the whirlwind romance of life. Like consistency.

Once upon a time I’d have felt guilty for that.

Coming to honour my cycles is a really important step in not beating myself up, and I don’t think I’m alone there. Each of us has cycles and seasons, and for some of us the effects are more pronounced than for others… Have you noticed that? Have you noticed your energy and attention fluctuating with the moon, or the sun?

Even e when it gets dark there’s light. Like here; there’s a boat on the horizon, dramatically lighting its own way in the dusk.

I definitely go with the seasons, the kiss of the sun on the land… Each season feeding into the other, a circle that repeats every year.

And each year I know a little more, recognise it a little sooner, so the circles become spirals, the same shape but a little further ahead, building a little higher than last time.

At least, that’s my goal.

And so far it seems to be working. I’ve noticed myself wanting to chase all the gorgeous idea-bunnies and remembered to pull myself back to centre. Those inspirations are wonderful, and if I follow them all I’ll forget the garden one been tending.

Do you find this? Do you find you cycle through patterns each day, month, year? Do you tend to overdo it in the summer, like me? Or do you let it go and take a holiday when the sun shines?

This Spring I’ve been nurturing a few writing seedlings which are strengthening day by day. The Enchanted Academy (TEA) with my courses on magic is one, the Crimson Coven is another, and if you follow me on Instagram you’ll have seen today that I’ve just signed contracts for two new books!

I decided years ago that I wanted to write books and teach, and that’s the spiral staircase I’m climbing each year… Each revolution, a little further along the path of doing what I love, even when my energy waxes and wanes with the seasons.

Whatever the sun is doing, I keep my dream in mind. If you hold true to who you choose to be then, every season, every revolution, you’ll have spent a little longer doing what feeds your heart’s garden. Don’t let the down times make you forget that.

Oh and learning your cycles and patterns, recognising the flow of the world around you, and learning to work in tune with both, is part of the craft of the witch, too.

I have, however, accidentally let the purple sprouting broccoli in my actual garden blossom and go to seed (I think?) because I was writing. Oops. It’s still pretty though!

In an attempt to get better at this while “making a living writing” thing, may I just remind you that I have books for sale! You can find them in my new online bookshop, Quin’s Books, or at your local bookshop. Or, if you’d like, you can support me on Patreon and unlock bonus audio content and early access to magical writings…

Feathered Wings of the Heart

20 Friday Aug 2010

Posted by in Following Delight, Magic

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A freind of mine has started a blog about following spirit, and he writes beautifully! I encourage you to go and have a read… Revolve Your Spirit

His post today has inspired me to respond… if you know me, or have been following the Fey Hearted blog, you probably have seen that my Book  about finding your Faery Heart has reached completion, and is currently in the process of being born into the world in a special edition of 13 hardback books, each individually embellished by myself (when they finally arrive!).

Gwydion has written eloquently about how our wings will carry us to Spirit,to Heaven, to God Herself, and today he described how these wings must be grounded in our hearts. Our wings must be our own, our own colours, grown from our own desires, our own path.

And this makes me wonder, how is it that people who don’t know their own hearts can grow their wings again?

We are angels on earth, fallen, I agree.

But how is it that we might come to remember this?

For myself, it helped that my mother always told me to be true to myself… but the recognition that we could be more than simply office or factory workers, buried under the weight of grey streets and regimented work came from seeing people who did not live like that. Artists, street performers, tarot readers… people who danced at work, rather than trudged.

These examples of colour opened my eyes.

And then there were books… people wrote about their beliefs, their experiences, their hopes and dreams and worlds beyond this one.

I started with fantasy and could not believe that 9 to 5 was the only way to live.

And then, I found The Craft. A path which did not involve subservience to what is meant to be, but delight in all that is.

I found a map, well, in truth, a collection of fragments of maps which I found links between… have you ever noticed how all the maps of the multiverse have the same landmarks? And every map has your self at the heart?

So that is where I started, spiralling into my heart.

My point? If you live from your heart, as best you can at this moment, others will see.

If others see, they will also see, they can choose to do this too.

Be your Self, and others will see that they, too, can be their Selves.

One reason for my Faery Hearted Book is so that others with a heart like mine might find inspiration from its pages to let their heart shine too, just as others have inspired me.

I’m curious: where is your inspiration? In what ways are you living your life that you hope will inspire people to live well?

The Cheshire Cat’s Smile

10 Saturday Apr 2010

Posted by in Reflections

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~ A Review

I walk home after the sky has moved from blue to purple, and above the rooftops I see the thin sliver of a Cheshire cat smile.

Two nights before my sweetie, a friend and I went to watch the new Alice in Wonderland film by Tim Burton in 3D. Its a rare treat to visit a cinema from the Valleys of Wales, so we were most excited!

It was beautiful, and a strange blend of Alice in Wonderland, Alice Through the Looking Glass and The Jabberwocky. When the 3D technology has developed even a little further it will be a fantastic addition to the visual experience and I look forward to seeing how it may perhaps add to the storytelling. For the moment, it was pretty (despite my personal difficulties focussing, and preference for brighter colours, which were washed out by the special glasses). We all giggled at the spectacle of ourselves in the huge frames over our modest daily glasses we wear to see the world.

But I left the theatre feeling that here had been a spectacle, and little else.

It being Burton, there were plenty of treats, and a familiar cast of actors who pulled off their roles wonderfully. There were characters, long loved and often missed, reappearing in new guises. There were amazing details and vast vistas of beauty.

And yet it lacked something…

And under that sliver of moon I began to realise what.

In the story that captured our hearts so long ago, it wasn’t a narrative that we fell in love with, but the surrealness, the moment by moment twisting and turning of a world which whispered with wonder.

Now the fantastical has become so commonplace it cannot invoke the same degree of dreaming on its own, and forcing a loose narrative on pieces of art which have little truck with beginning, middle and end takes a little more away.

The story of Alice is not a narrative, but a dream, and that is why we love it.

Alice shows us how reality flows between the two worlds of dreaming and waking, and watching her adventures lets us walk away with a little piece of her ability to walk between these worlds. It felt to me like the new film tried to make this more obvious, and perhaps missed the point.

But it was still gorgeous, I will still watch it again, and I do still adore the Cheshire Cat and his smile…

I walk home after the sky has moved from blue to purple, and above the rooftops I see

the thin sliver of a Cheshire cat smile.

Two nights before my sweetie, a friend and I went to watch the new Alice in Wonderland

film by Tim Burton in 3D. Its a rare treat to visit a cinema from the Valleys of

Wales, so we were most excited!

It was beautiful, and a strange blend of Alice in Wonderland, Alice Through the

Looking Glass and The Jabberwocky. When the 3D technology has developed even a little

further it will be a fantastic addition to the visual experience and I look forward to

seeing how it may perhaps add to the storytelling. For the moment, it was pretty

(despite my personal difficulties focussing, and preference for brighter colours,

which were washed out by the special glasses). We all giggled at the spectacle of

ourselves in the huge frames over our modest daily glasses we wear to see the world.

But I left the theatre feeling that here had been a spectacle, and little else.

It being Burton, there were plenty of treats, and a familiar cast of actors who pulled

off their roles wonderfully. There were characters, long loved and often missed,

reappearing in new guises. There were amazing details and vast vistas of beauty.

And yet it lacked something…

And under that sliver of moon I began to realise what.

In the story that captured our hearts so long ago, it wasn’t a narrative that we fell

in love with, but the surrealness, the moment by moment twisting and turning of a

world which whispered with wonder.

Now the fantastical has become so commonplace it cannot invoke the same degree of

dreaming on its own, and forcing a loose narrative on pieces of art which have little

truck with beginning, middle and end takes a little more away.

The story of Alice is not a narrative, but a dream, and that is why we love it.

Alice shows us how reality flows between the two worlds of dreaming and waking, and

watching her adventures lets us walk away with a little piece of her ability to walk

between these worlds. It felt to me like the new film tried to make this more obvious,

and perhaps missed the point.

But it was still gorgeous, I will still watch it again, and I do still adore the

Cheshire Cat and his smile…

Squidmonsters and kittens

17 Wednesday Mar 2010

Posted by in Following Delight

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~ A Templesmith inspired meander…

On the hive-brain that is Twitter I once asked Ben Templesmith this:

Out of curiousity… I love your style but squirm at the subject,

have you ever drawn, say, a kitten? (Without tentacles?)

And his response was:

Nope, I don’t draw nice things generally. It’s the bad stuff

that happens in life that defines us after all, not the banal/cutesy

While I really appreciate his taking time to respond, and the limited space of Twitter… I disagreed:

Really? Only the bad stuff that defines us?

I can understand not banal/cutesy, but ruling out good/beautiful/happy as defining?

And that’s where this post comes in, I’ll not get into the argument that kittens are not necessarily merely banal/cutesy, though they can be, but I will present another perspective.

Both kinds of life experiences define us.

Its too often that I’ve come across people who feel that they are shaped primarily by the bad stuff in their life. Yes, that has an effect on who you are and how you interact with the world, but so do events like winning awards, having children, getting happily married and living past your golden wedding anniversary together, and on a smaller level, even experiencing a beautiful sunset can set the tone for an evening, a night, or a whole week.

When we can be defined by both the joy and the sorrow in our hearts, why only settle for one half of the equation?

Home Away from Home

10 Wednesday Mar 2010

Posted by in Reflections

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I’m sat in a room at a philosophy conference, in a strange place, with all my loved ones miles away. There is a strange feeling of liminality here, a beautiful conference hall in acres of land to wander in, trees rustling as the sun sets, and students gathered to perform philosophy. A place away from home, but still familiar, home to an event dedicated to an activity I love.

I can hear people through the walls, and yet I’m sat alone. We are here already, and yet the conference has not yet begun. I find myself waiting…

I look around me, this year I have properly unpacked, I have put my things in spaces, temporarily designated as their proper places.

I open up my laptop on the desk and start it up, feeling like some modern writer opening a new version of the old writing kits, laying out the pieces, putting everything where it should be.

The wallpaper, my familiar icons, it all puts me at ease, and I realise that I’ve carried something very familiar with me, a little piece of home.

My laptop is many things: writing tool, connection, art-medium, games console, TV, entertainment station.

It is also familiar, set up how I want it, messy and disorganised, icons everywhere, files in multiple places at once, cluttered… and also homey, indicative of my life, comforting.

Its funny how the things we use become parts of us, however temporarily, extensions of our selves, expressions of our personalities.

Its funny how, so far from home, such a strangely unnatural-seeming object can be the most natural to use, the most comforting, a little piece of home.