Category: Nature + Moon + Tea

We were Rain Dancers

These days the gods rumble in the dark wild sky, but no rain comes. Flashes of light cut through the swollen black clouds, but still wet days are few and far between. The afternoon sky is often a picture of wasted potential. Clouds gather like herds and swell, but they do not fall.

Perhaps they are in love, these masses of droplets leaning into each other, their hearts fused as one, so they do not want to part from one another. Or perhaps they do not love the great Mother Earth as they once did, no longer intent on falling to her feet to wet her soft body. The Earth doesn’t seem to cry about this. Instead, she rests in quiet presence and moves through moment to moment at her usual pace, seemingly content as slowly things in her midst begin to wilt and wither in a time when they should be lush and full.

It’s said to be our worst drought in almost three decades, and I’ve been hearing old songs of the land with new ears, ones that call to wild and ancient gods in the sky to send us rain. Drought is a humbling experience because it’s a time when the Earth reminds us mere mortals that we are not as in control as we’d like to delude ourselves into believing.

On days when I’m are fortunate enough for the heavens soak my heart with blessings, I walk in the garden and let the light touch of faint rain cleanse my body or I sit by the window to watch the showers fall. I take it all in, hold on to its preciousness like a forgotten piece of my soul and I think to myself – We were once rain dancers. Why don’t we dance for the rain anymore?

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500 Words of Wild Wisdom: A Path Through the Forest

Today, I am so happy to share the first instalment of the new 500 Words of Wild Wisdom blog series. The first guest post is A Path Through the Forest from Anne Linn, a beautiful poetic writer whose work I love and the author of The Little Flower:You Are Loved. In this piece, Anne writes about her experience of nature as a path to the Divine Mother, healing and a deeper connection with herself. 

A Path Through the Forest by Anne Linn

I knelt in the rain, in the last light of autumn and prayed to the Goddess, to all overseeing things. I prayer to the trees, to the sky, and felt the darkness gathering around, inky black and full of stars.

I walked in the forest and it seemed darker than I remember, and yet more lovely as I crouched to pick the last of the blueberries, as I gathered golden mushrooms along a moss covered path.

The sun and gone away, and I walked through a long shadow, feeling the evening deepening, seeing the sky lose its colour.

I stood by the stream, hearing the rush of water, loving its song, which is the music I always return to, the song of water.

I felt broken there in the forest, cracked open, and I kept walking even though I had been tired, had told myself I would not go far.

I felt the presence of the Goddess in the air, in the wind. I wanted to get closer, to feel her touch. I felt I was walking in a white glittering light, in an eternal church, vast and beautiful, stretching into eternity.

Life was easier then, when I wasn’t alone. When I was filled with her love, spreading out, touching everything with beauty, so even the dark trees seemed wrapped in pearls, in white light.

A Lesson Learned

I was asked to share something I had learned from nature, from the Goddess. I couldn’t think of much, other than one powerful thing, that nature brings healing. And that it helps me find her, my divine mother, helps me connect with her and with myself.

I once visited a friend in a beautiful place in nature. She took me to see a couple who lived away from any noise, any roads, and grew their own food, a river only steps away. My friend said how much she’d love to one day live like that, and I felt that too. I have often dreamed about owning a small house or cottage in the forest, next to swaying trees, my window overlooking an overgrown garden of herbs, wild roses climbing the walls.

But as I looked at this beautiful sanctuary in nature, it somehow seemed dark, empty. And I felt how alone I’d be without the God and Goddess, how I needed them to fill the space I was in. I felt that wherever I went, I had to carry them with me, and let them show me where to go.

That’s why I look for her in everything, when I make my food, when I walk in the forest. I want to be filled with something divine and beautiful, to touch something unseen, a world hidden and out of sight, but so close, the veil so thin I can almost reach through it. Sometimes in dreams I see beyond it and catch glimpses of glittering mysteries. Places I think we all long for. Places we might have been once, that was once home, and that we deep down still remember.

Last night I awoke from a dream, feeling I had been in a vast temple of stone, and wanted to return there. I was filled with longing and joy, because I remember a fragment of something wonderful, fragments of love.

It made me want to bring that temple inside of me, to carry it with me throughout the day. To have a secret place in my heart for the Goddess, to worship her, the rose, the light.

About Author:

 

Anne LiALheadshot.jpgnn writes about nature, about spirituality, and the Goddess. She also shares about grief and loss, and ways to mend the soul, the heart. She has written a short story, and is currently working on her next book. You can find her at www.littleforestflower.com

Misty Sunrise…and writing my new book

It was 5am and I felt like I was living in a Mary Oliver poem.

Mist rose with the sun whose rays slowly climbed from the horizon. In clouds, the mist lingered over the wetland. The land was breath-taking, drenched in mystery and golden light. What hidden wildlife would we discover as we explored this piece of wildness at sunrise? The possibilities made me feel like a child again. It reminded me of waking up at sunrise some holidays while my parents still slept and sneaking off to explore the hills or watch the sun rise over the ocean. That is the side of life I’ve always loved, exploring the world that existed before everyone else woke up and then returning home changed, a heart full of wild secrets that no one else would know unless I told them.

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Misty Sunrise

My husband and I stood in awe of the natural beauty, and we breathed in the misty sunrise. We took it all in – the sky, the water, the colours – taking pictures of the magical scene we found ourselves immersed in. We offered gratitude prayers and did a short grounding meditation together, aligning ourselves with Mother Nature and the intuitive soul light within.

Waterfowl called from the unseen places in the reeds. Dabchicks sailed across the water. A pair of noisy Egyptian geese flew overhead, and an owl flew homeward into the forest on the other side of the water. Then we noticed something beneath the willow trees near the water’s edge. My eyes searched the shadows under the trees.

 An antelope grazing…

She noticed us almost as soon as we saw her, and then bolted through the mist, making her way back to the forest. We watched her galloping, so swift and graceful. I wondered what elusive and skittish part of my ‘Self’ she mirrored. The antelope reminded me of the shy and wounded parts of me that prefer to remain in the shadows, still, quiet and invisible. I thought of the part of me that shies away from attention and that gets spooked at the first hint of being noticed, the part of me that runs fearfully for cover into the safety of the dark forest.

I wondered many things – How do I connect with that part of myself? How will I coax her out and win over her trust? How will I teach her that the past is over? That she will no longer be hunted? That she is safe now and that her wounds will heal if she trusts me enough to nurse them? I want to help the wounded antelope in me understand that sometimes the things that ruin us are meant to be, because they are also the things that help us grow, build our strength, our gifts and shape us into who we’ve become. I want to be like the golden sunlight spilling into the wetland valley and the forest so that I illuminate the shadows.

But off she ran, away from us. We took photos of the antelope running off. Through the lens, I saw a part of myself run with her. I wondered…is that who I’d been searching for on our daily forest walks these past few days? An elusive antelope-shaped part of my own essence? I must’ve been. I know that my encounters with Nature connect me more deeply with Spirit and the Divine Feminine, just as much as they bring me home to myself. But I’ve seen more clearly recently that the pieces of wildness which I collect – the feathers, the pine cones, the nature experiences and wild whispers – do more than connect me intimately with the Earth. They are a form of soul retrieval, because they re-introduce me to forgotten parts of myself, my inner pieces of wildness.

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5am Nature Walk Antelope Encounter

That’s the title of the new book I’m writing by the way – Pieces of Wildness…And since my writing process and spirituality are both so interwoven with the Earth, it has meant spending even more time than usual in the natural world lately. I’ve been taking more nature walks, hiking along trails and last week my husband and I took off to our favourite forest getaway spot. I felt a profound sense of having come full circle returning to the forest cabin where I wrote the last chapter of Wild Essence just as I begin the journey of writing Pieces of Wildness. I’ll probably be blogging less frequently for the time being, while I focus more on writing my book. I don’t want to drop completely off the face of the planet, so I will share in this space when and as often as I can. if you like, you can find me on Instagram or my Facebook Page too, where I share pictures and bits of wild inspiration, probably a bit more regularly than I blog.

In the meantime, how is wild wisdom finding you today? A feather, a flower, a leaf? Each is a piece of wildness with a story. Each has divine light and wisdom within, and has something to teach you about your own true nature. Reach beyond the surface to draw out the medicine it offers. Let this wild wisdom guide, inspire you and heal you.

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Exploring the forest