Welcome to Radical Honey, where in future months you might find all manner of things grounded in a call for sacred activism through connection, community, creativity, cultivating wonder, reclaiming, snuffling out the truth beneath the obvious, small beauties, dancing bravely in the edge places, foraging, mindfulness, seeing what is real, acknowledging what is broken and calls for mending, open hearts and soft bellies, kindness, the power of vulnerability, everyday acts of small subversion, wild acts of fierce courage, and the quiet magic of a whistling kettle and a nice cup of tea. It had not been my intention to begin sharing these writings on the autumn equinox and yet, as is so often the case when we just let things happen, it does feel perfect to let them go as we begin our turning towards the dreaming dark. Who knows what spells we will spin, and what wonders we might catch sight of in the autumnal mist?
'Radical' is such a maligned word and many
of us have been taught to be afraid of it, carrying as it does within
its few letters a whiff of what we have come to think of as harsh,
strident, confrontational, and aggressive. And yet, when we look
beyond these learned fears, we find that radical is a deep and
beautiful word, meaning 'of, or related to, the root', or going to
the origin and fundamental nature of something. It is all about
digging deep and seeing beneath what we might see at first or have
been told. It means asking 'why?' When I feel out what the word
'radical' means, I imagine curling into myself like a fox, snuffling
through layers until I find what smells like good earth, and I sense
the power of connection and community underneath all those things
which seek to divide us. When we are radicalised, brought back to our
roots, there is no hope of dividing us and this seems to me to be a
powerful standpoint from which to challenge all that we wish to
change.
And what of honey? For me honey symbolises
creativity, the gathering of beauty to nourish our spirits, to
sustain us through times where we feel a lack of what is good and
sweet, and to help us trust in healing and abundance. And the sister
bees are dripping with the magic of community, connection with the
song of the land, the value of the individual woven into the
collective, and the rightness of placing what, and who, is the most
vulnerable in the centre of all that we do in an ever-changing,
ever-flowing movement of love and care. In bees I find She~Who~Is and
the Source. It is significant that they are struggling in the world,
just as many of us are. Our relationship is old and there are many
threads of kinship woven between us.
And so Radical Honey is to call for sacred activism and change, through connecting to our roots and drawing on deep wells of creative and joyful honey. In a world like this one, any act of connection or happiness is a radical act, and a rebellious one. I encourage each one of us to acknowledge our rebellion, from standing in front of line of riot police on a fracking protest, to speaking out for those who have no voices, from joining a march, to seeing the beauty in a magpie's wing. And, after it all, knowing that often we all just need some kindness and a hot cup of tea in order to stir up something that might change the world. This is Radical Honey; nothing, and no one, is insignificant. Everything matters.
And so Radical Honey is to call for sacred activism and change, through connecting to our roots and drawing on deep wells of creative and joyful honey. In a world like this one, any act of connection or happiness is a radical act, and a rebellious one. I encourage each one of us to acknowledge our rebellion, from standing in front of line of riot police on a fracking protest, to speaking out for those who have no voices, from joining a march, to seeing the beauty in a magpie's wing. And, after it all, knowing that often we all just need some kindness and a hot cup of tea in order to stir up something that might change the world. This is Radical Honey; nothing, and no one, is insignificant. Everything matters.
In the next few weeks, I hope to write about my
own small acts of rebellion and the ways in which I support myself in
community with all beings. In my own small community in London this
might mean introducing fly agaric mushrooms and harebells, blue
alkhanet and the local squirrels, ashy mining and hairy flower-footed
bees, the man from the kebab shop, foxes and cats, my human
neighbours, soil microbes, moss, the crows on the Heath, the pigeons
on the Green, hidden rivers and wildly growing weeds, and, moving
further afield, the Kent sea, and Sandstone Hill Woman and Silver
Spring Valley Woman; spirits of the land where I spend my free days
wrapped up in love. All are part of the community that sustains me.
This is where I find my radical honey and from that ground there
shall be adventures. Who knows what the autumn will bring...