|(The beauty of wild grasses in our garden)|
It seems that we have always been afraid, my love and I. Perhaps that is partly how, and why, we found each other ~ the threads of our fear vibrating through the Web of All Things calling out for a kindred soul who could help us uncover our deepest woundedness and begin to heal what has cut us so deep. I have written nothing on this blog for some months, although I have thought of it often. Big changes are unfolding in my life, all of which are ultimately beautiful and healthful, but it has been hard to settle to the written word. And yet, today, out of the rising and falling of fear, words have once again begun to flow. I am grateful to Grandmother Fear for that.
Several months ago my love made a brave and courageous decision to no longer do what was demanded of him under our increasingly cruel 'Welfare' system. His 's Syndrome is lifelong and unchanging and so there has been no need for those who oversee our benefits system to constantly try to break him, and so many others, in the way that they do with their threatening letters and wilful refusal to treat anyone as an individual with individual needs and gifts. With the prospect of being forced to attend a Work Capability Assessment, which almost broke him the last time and led to several years of deep depression, he said, “no more”. The State attempts to turn us all into needy children or into dead-eyed fodder for Capitalism. There is no appreciation of the role that each one of us plays in the lives of those around us, whether in paid employment or not. There is no credence given to goodness or creativity or kindness or community. My love would rather starve than make himself into the person that they want him to be, even if he could, and I support him completely whatever might happen to us. I am lifting a prayer for the day when no one feels that they must compromise themselves just to survive in this society that we have all created. He and I hope to find another way, and we shall. We are not born to be broken. Time to be children not of the State but of Life.
Truly I am proud of him for claiming his power in this way but one of the ramifications of making this brave choice has been a huge increase in his fear of falling through the gaps, just as many are afraid. And so we live in a land that is seeped in fear and that fear calls out our own. Often we feel brave. On some days, like today, we fall and rise on waves of fear; of losing our home, of starving ~ too afraid, too frozen to make decisions about our lives or act in any way at all. We live by the sea and sometimes the tide takes us. Like wild creatures we huddle together. Sometimes we come apart and can barely look at one another. Even then we make each other many cups of tea and, always, there is love.
As ever, I am in awe of the ability of Life to draw together those whose wounds call out the brokenness in the other. Himself has a fear of not being enough, and yet of being too much for many. I have a fear of being too much, of making others feel small if I allow myself to be bright, and yet of failing to ever truly shine. And so, the fears of one pull on the fears of the other and on we dance. It is a healing dance but often it hurts. Always there is love and, if it feels that love might fly away, we only deepen into even more. I am in awe of that too, and of a man who has spent his whole life being told that he can be nothing, is nothing, trusting so completely in Life, in She-Who-Is, or Mother as he calls her, that he would risk everything.
Those who wish to subdue us want us to be afraid, and we are, but that should not, and must not, prevent us from dreaming wildly, acting bravely, reaching out, trusting, creating supportive and hopeful compassionate community with all beings, nor from risking it all in the name of Life. And so he and I have decided to work together, to create something of beauty in the edge places that we both know so well in our different ways, and that something will be called 'Hedgetemple'. We hope that, in our own small way, we can support others in saying, “no more”. This is something that more and more of us will be led to do in these times I think. We will all need those who go before us to leave maps and signs to guide us on our way and to reach out a hand to hold. We will all need to know that we are not alone. And we will all need to know that it is alright to be afraid.
We are not quite sure what our new way of being will look like yet, nor what we can offer, although we have many wild plans. I hope to write more here as that unfolds. In the meantime, we are learning to be brave and to trust. We are learning what it means to live on the h(edge). We are trying to eat well, to care for our bodies and each others. We are tending our garden; there are deep red velvet roses and a community of nettles just outside our door and, further into the garden, a precious patch of wild grasses that my love has been nurturing, and where our local colony of cats like to make their nests. Only today, in the midst of our rising into fear, we were admiring the colours and movement of the grasses. A few weeks ago he noted that he hadn't seen any of those sticky little dart-like grasses that we used to throw at our friends when we were children. Today, we saw that some had moved in to our wild grass community. They feel like an affirmation and a prayer. I have taken to cooking from fresh ingredients every day and also to foraging in a little valley just down the road from here; we have been eating meals of nettle seed, sorrel, garlic mustard, and soon we hope to be drinking elderflower tea. I hope to write about much of that here. Almost every day we receive something from someone that supports us deeply in all that we hope to do, even if they don't know that they are doing it. We are grateful every day. Life is full of small beauties and magic. And yes, we are afraid, just as we have always been, my love and I. We fall and rise on waves of fear. The magic is no less bright for that.
|(Common sorrel, who shares her deliciously lemony leaves)|
|(Beloved wild rose)|
|(My first ever home-made nettle pesto)|
|(The beauty of the wild grasses in our garden)|