Thursday, 5 October 2017

Novena for the Fallen Through ~ our first prayer for the people of Grenfell


Dear people of good heart,

Here is the first of our full moon Novenas for the Fallen Through, which will be devoted to Brigid and to seeking justice and healing for the victims of the Grenfell Tower fire as the Public Inquiry begins. I find that I am struggling to find the right words, if there are any right words, but perhaps that is why people do 'fall through'; because we can't find the right words to stop them falling, to make their suffering solid and real where we can offer help and solidarity, and so we have to try.

These prayers are to Brigid, goddess and saint, who watches over the triple fires of creativity, healing, and transformation, and who dwells at the intersection of many faiths, particularly in our land Pagan and Christian, and so offers a hopeful bridge between spiritual traditions. She is also a holy woman who has been carried in the hearts of many travellers on their long migrations, having threads of her being woven into Scotland and Ireland, and as far as the lands of the North and India. She finds her sisters in Sarasvati of India, in the ‘serpent-skirted’ goddess of South America, in St Lucia of Sweden. She has accompanied the poor and the sick. She has midwifed the dead. And she has keened for the lost, which the aspect we will begin with today. The Holy Woman, the Mother, the Goddess, the Saint, is not the companion of the rich and the powerful, who have so often cast their attention far from the sacred. She walks always with the ‘fallen through’.
Here is a poem which I wrote for her very long ago..

Serpent Skirt (Dedicated to Monica Sjöö)

From Mawu’s labyrinthine belly birthed
the serpents of your feathered dreaming.
From Coatlicue’s dark Underworld
the threads of your soul shuttle weaving.

And travelling deep in snake-blessed fire
You sing the land worn old with waiting.
You shed your skin, transform the earth;
your beauty ever self-creating.

In Tanit’s darkened wells of power
your kundalini flames are rising.
And deep in moist maternal earth
your serpent song of life is sung.

Oracular waters hold the key
to memories of ancient knowing.
And Sarasvati’s lute reveals the
sweetness of your tongue.

Swan feather winged, you fan the flame
of creativity and learning.
Your spinning wheel the tool on which
the web of life is spun.

And serpent coiled beneath the hearth
your primal fire is stirring.
Your snowdrops whisper courage to the sun.

(Jacqueline Durban, 2006)

For this novena, we will lift prayers together for the victims of Grenfell, whether dead or homeless and beginning again, whether scarred in body or in mind, for the Emergency Services who came to their aid, for our press to report truthfully, for justice to be done, for healing, for hearth and home, for lost creativity and possibility, and for Brigid’s fire to be made holy again. And we will speak the names of the dead and the missing.
Each day for nine days I will write a prayer dedicated to St Brigid and to one of the aspects of the Grenfell fire and its victims, and share them here and everywhere. If you would like to join with me then you need only set aside a few minutes each day and perhaps light a candle for hope, for healing, for renewal, and for justice to be done, together with making your prayer using the words that I share or your own. I will also be creating a simple altar to remind me of our intention and our work. There is no right or wrong way of making these prayers. We will be heard. If you prefer not to pray, but would like to support us, please do light a candle and/or keep this work in mind.


Novena for the Fallen Through ~ our first prayer

Justice, healing, and wholeness for the people of Grenfell, and for us all.

This prayer begins with fire;

Blessed Brigid,
Holy Woman,
Saint and Goddess,
Mother of Fire.

Brigid of the mantles,
Brigid of the peat heap,
Brigid of the twining hair,
Mary of the Gaels.

As the full moon begins her shining,
we come to you in prayer.
As the full moon begins her shining,
lighting the shadows where injustice dwells,
we come to you in prayer.
As the full moon begins her shining,
reflecting her light into bottomless
pools of horror and grief,
we come to you in prayer.

We pray for the victims of the Grenfell Tower fire,
we ask for a blessing on the dead,
and on the living who were burned in mind, in body, in spirit,
who must begin again with a heavy burden to carry.

Keening woman, weeping woman, grieving woman,
Swan woman, singing your haunting song for the dying,
hear our lament for the lost,
for the terror they felt, for the screams they heard.

Hear our lament for the lost,
for the loss of life, of innocence, of trust.

Hear our lament for the fallen through
as they begin to walk the long road to justice,
hear our lament for the hearts of those who
put greed before life.

Brigid, Mid-woman, Mid-Wife,
walker of the space between life and death,
walker of the space between injustice and justice,
join with us in our grieving song,
help our tears to become healing waters,
our burning anger to become a good fire
that we can carry on the long road to
righting all that is wrong,
in our land, in our society, in ourselves.

Brigid of the many names,
we pray for the missing and the dead of Grenfell.
We offer you their many names as a prayer.

We offer you the names of Mohammed Neda, Ali Yawar Jafari,
Karen Bernard, Lucas James, Rania Ibrahim and her daughters,
Fathia and Hania, Stefan Anthony Mills, Ligaya Moore.

We offer you the names of Zainab Dean and her son, Jeremiah,
Khadija Saye and her mother, Mary Mendy, Gary Maunders,
Mohammad Alhajali, Hesham Rahman, Tony Disson, Sheila Smith.

We offer you the names of Mariem Elgwahry and her mother, Suhar,
Jessica Urbano Ramirez, Deborah Lamprell, Steve Power,
Dennis Murphy, Amal Ahmedin and Amaya Tuccu, of Isaac Paulos.

We offer you the names of Marco Gottardi, and Gloria Trevisan,
Mohammed Nurdu, Fouzia el-Wahabi, her husband, Abdul Aziz,
Nur Huda and Mehdi, Yasin.

We offer you the names of Nadia Loureda, Maria Del Pilar Burton,
Berkti Haftom and her son, Biruk, Nura Jamal, her husband, Hashim,
their children, Yahya, Firdaws, Yaqub, and of Kamru Miah.

We offer you the names of Fatima Afrasehabi, her sister, Sakina,
Nadia Choucair, her husband, Baseem Choukair,
their children, Mierna, Fatima, Zainab,
their grandmother, Sirria, of Raymond Bernard.

We offer you the names of Majorie Vital and her son, Ernie,
Joseph Daniels, Logan Gomes, Khadija Khalloufi, Abdeslam Sebbar,
Fathia Ahmed and her son, Abufars Ibrahim. Of Omar Belkadi,
Farah Hamdan, Malak, Leena, and Tamzin who lived.
Of Mohamednur Tuccu, Husna and Rebaya Begum,
Mohammed Hanif, Mohammed Hamid, Vincent Chiejina, Hamid Kani,
a ‘woman’ unnamed, all the unnamed, the disappeared.

Blessed Brigid,
Holy Woman,
Saint and Goddess,
Mother of Fire.

Brigid of the mantles,
Brigid of the peat heap,
Brigid of the twining hair,
Mary of the Gaels.

As the full moon begins her shining,
we offer you the names of the dead and missing of Grenfell,
we ask that they be kept safe in the arms of their holy ones.
We ask that the living who saw, and heard, and screamed,
and the families who lost loved ones and heart,
and those who came to offer help, to offer comfort, to save,
be held in their journeys of healing.

Let the radiance of this full moon
and your keening healing song,
light their way into the blessed Otherworld,
or back to life where we can offer them good company.
In solidarity. In humanity.

This prayer ends with fire. Let it be the fire of hope.

For this we pray.
Aho mitake oyasin, amen, blessed be. Inshallah.



Wednesday, 4 October 2017

No Faith in War: a beautiful resistance



                                               
Meditation is old and honorable, so why should I 

not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside,

looking into the shining world? Because, 

properly attended to, delight, as well as havoc, is suggestion.

Can one be passionate about the just, the
ideal, the sublime, and the holy, and yet commit
                                                

to no labor in its cause? I don't think so.
                                
All summations have a beginning, all effect has a story, all kindness begins with the sown seed.

Thought buds toward radiance. The gospel of
light is the crossroads of -- indolence, or action.

Be ignited, or be gone.

                                             
~ Mary Oliver

In her forward to Gods and Radicals’ spring 2016 publication, ‘Beautiful Resistance: the Fire is Here”, animist, anarchist, and mystic, Emma Restall Orr, writes of the urgency of resistance to what she calls “the fistful of c words”; civilisation, colonialism, consumerism, conservatism and, the c word to rule them all, capitalism. She also comments that “raw indignation is graceless”, that we must stand against the dualism of which capitalism and its exponents are so fond without resorting to the outraged objection that makes us also ‘peddlars of capital’; asserting our own sense of self and our own distress over that of another. What is needed instead is relationship, a non-hierarchy of being in which capitalism’s inherent need to assert who has the most, or who is ahead, dissolves. A ‘beautiful resistance’ indeed. And that is what I found when I took part in Stop the Arms Fair’s event ‘No Faith in War’ on 5th September, 2017.


If conscience counts for more than might,
and justice, mercy, truth still more
whoever calls us out to fight
we still say No to every war.

If every person, every life,
deserves our reverence and respect,
at poisoned words formenting strife
we must protest, we shall object.

Each night that falls, each day that dawns
brings terror to earth’s neediest ones,
for grapes have never grown from thorns
nor peace from bombs, nor joy from guns.

So no short cut shall tempt our feet,
for vicious means make crooked ends,
nor shall we think our work complete
till enemies become our friends.

And even if that cannot be
within our span of mortal breath,
we still refuse to bow the knee
to gods of power and pride and death.

If health and hope may yet increase
and seeds of love find space to grow,
our Yes to justice, freedom, peace
still means to killing we say No.

(excerpt from ‘If Conscience Counts’ by Christopher Idle, Anglican Pacifist Fellowship)

Stop the Arms Fair is seeking to end DSEI (Defence & Security Equipment International), the world’s largest arms fair, being held at ExCeL – the huge exhibition centre in London Docklands - once every two years in the second week in September. It was first held in 2011, the same year as the attacks on the Twin Towers in New York and the Pentagon in Washington. As Pat Gafney, General Secretary of the British section of Pax Christi, writes; “Each (is) a manifestation of the violence that human beings can inflict on one another.” Sixteen years later DSEI is still taking place and many continue to make money from suffering and death. There are only victims. No one wins, no one.


DSEI, organised by Clarion Events with extensive support from the British Government, attracts around 34,000 attendees from all around the world, many from countries with deeply questionable human rights records and repressive regimes and who have violated International Law. There are 1,600 exhibitors, including BAE Systems, Lockheed Martin, and Rolls Royce. The Guardian reported that, “Michael Fallon, the defence secretary, and Ben Wallace, the security minister, were scheduled to address the event on Wednesday, with Harriett Baldwin, the minister for defence procurement, and Tobias Ellwood, the minister for veterans, speaking later that week. Their presence provoked criticism after it emerged that the UK government had failed to send any ministers to a UN event happening at the same time that was aimed at stopping the trade of illicit arms.” In 2016, charges against five men and three women who had blocked the road in order to prevent exhibitors reaching the arms fair were dismissed at Stratford Magistrates’ Court because the judge considered that the defendants had, “presented clear and credible evidence that illegal activity had been conducted at the Defence Systems and Equipment International (DSEI) arms fair in previous years, and that police arresting the activists had failed to investigate to ensure it was not happening again.” Not only does our Government continue to support this event, despite clear evidence that illegal activity, which will ultimately lead to the deaths of fellow humans, is happening inside, but Britain is now the second biggest arms dealer in the world, many of those arms fueling conflict in the Middle East. It would be easy to just carry on writing at this moment but I want to repeat those words, let them sink into my heart and make it fire; "Britain is now the second biggest arms dealer in the world"... 

It is because of this that Stop the Arms Fair held a week of events at the beginning of September to disrupt the setting up of DSEI by blocking the road and by drawing attention to the destruction and injustice that it fuels. These events included creative action against nuclear weapons, to protest the arming of Israel, to call for the creation of jobs which renew life rather than destroy it, for free movement of people, not weapons, and to share artists’ responses to the arms trade. On 5th September, faith groups of all kinds gathered for a day of worship and non-violent direct action. This was ‘No Faith in War’.  


I must admit to feeling nervous as I went to the event, as I’m not too familiar with that area of London. However, I asked the security guards outside the Excel Centre to direct me to the protest (they were quite helpful and slightly amused!), gathered further instructions from some passing Quakers, and all was well. In the end it proved to be the most heartening and inspiring of days, filled with good feeling and good company. It began with a ‘peace sit’ by Wake Up London, followed by a Quaker meeting for worship and readings from the Torah. Sadly, I missed both of these as they began quite early and I was travelling but I arrived as a service of ‘wild Communion’ was being held in the middle of the road, which was a wonderful sight to see. The Eucharist; delicious grape juice and fresh seeded bread, had been set up on a peace flag and bunches of grapes and Bibles had been placed across the road. We stood in a circle and all were invited to take part. I found this particularly moving as, being unconfirmed, I am not (officially) allowed to take part in Communion at my own church. I hope to write more about that another time but, for now, I will say that this radical act of Communion at which all were welcome was inherently anti-Capitalist, which is as it should be at such an event, and always.  


After this service many of us walked down to a bridge where four Quaker activists had been hanging from climbing gear with banners denouncing the arms trade, one reading “Theresa May, who would Jesus sanction, starve, and then blow to pieces? #StopDSEI” I was told that they had been blocking the road for at least four hours. 



By the time I arrived they were being hauled up onto the bridge and arrested, although they were released later in the day I believe. When the last protestor was removed we all clapped! Afterwards I spent some time exploring the site and looking at the moving and creative, sometimes smile-making, banners hanging all around, marking our sacred space.




  

And my personal favourite!


Soon, a reading of the International Prayer for Peace was followed by a delicious, abundant, and generously shared, bring-and-share picnic, during which several speakers shared thoughts on the relationship between faith and militarism. 


One had recently returned from the West Bank and shared with us, in both Arabic and English, a Muslim prayer that his father had taught him and which he recites to himself when he is feeling afraid. Another spoke of her belief that we each carry with us our own “individual spark of God” and that whenever someone is killed by the after-affects of arms dealing that spark is lost to the world forever. Rev. Dan Woodhouse, a Methodist minister who is soon going for trial for trying to disarm Saudi Arabian warplanes bound for Yemen, offered prayers, an Anglican minister led us in a deeply moving prayer for the police, which they could most certainly hear. This was indeed the most beautiful resistance. Following this, Sue Gilmurray of the Anglican Pacifist Fellowship, read a poem by wonderful Malcolm Guite (which we all insisted she read again later), and then Quaker activist, Sam Walton introduced Muslim, Saeed Shehabi, who told us how the sale of arms is oppressing the people of Bahrain. During lunch someone came up to me and pointed out peace activist, Margaret Slee, who was being led away by the police having blocked the road alone. She is 98 years old. When I grow up I want to be just like her.




After lunch, Sue Gilmurray, who had set her keyboard up at the side of the road, led us in ‘Songs for the Road to Peace’, which I found deeply touching and it is always empowering to let our voices be heard in a world that has little space for the sound of the human voice, or for song. The songs were written by herself and by Christopher Idle, who was also there although he had only just come out of hospital.  


Afterwards a Quaker peace group who had travelled from the Midlands led us in a service which included song and performance poetry from Eagle Spitz. As part of this we were each invited to attach a dead flower to a cross wrapped around with wire as a symbol of grief for all that unfolds in the name of war.



The Fellowship of Reconciliation then led us in a beatiful Taize-style service; the sound of a flute filled the air, the rain fell, there was a rainbow. We all agreed that it was a fine thing.



“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love. Honour one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervour, serving God. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with those in need. Practice hospitality.” (Romans 12: 9 – 13)


Finally, Pax Christi, the International Catholic Movement for Peace, led a service to “mark the death of the arms trade and the birth of peace and hope.”

“Here together, we bring our struggle for change.
Here together, we own our connection to all things.
Here together, we listen for God’s word.
Here today, we offer ourselves in prayer and action.”



This service included a moving act in which “those who offer false peace” were named, those companies who would be trading at the arms fair in the coming days, whose names had been written on paper tombstones. All were placed on a central altar and, amidst prayer and song, they were symbolically ‘buried’ and a hessian cloth laid over them. We then called in a “new earth of peace, hope, and justice.” We offered the police, who were standing in a line just behind us, a "peace be with you", many of us working our way along and shaking each hand, because there is no 'us and them', there is only us.



“Over this land of ours and other sister lands, that changed their songs of joy because of oppression and the whine of shrapnel, the bread of peace...”


“May our personal and national interests be not the coin of our exchanges. May our laments be turned into songs of life, clenched fists into open hands. And bring us together into the love that knows no bounds. For the earth’s people, let there be peace.”

And so it ended and most of us left to go back to our homes, some stayed and camped with a gathering of ‘Occupy the Arms Fair’, many gave a cheery, “see you next time” as they went. We were undimmed. It may seem like a small thing compared to the might of the arms trade and the war machine, a small thing compared to the ability of Capitalism to make us forget our humanity, a small thing that these few people gathered in the rain and filled the air with song and prayer, broke bread together, shared the peace. But it matters to do ‘something’ and it isn’t enough just to pray; not really. We stood in wild communion with people of many faiths (I hope next time many more) and with Spirit. In this world of disconnection that is a radical act; a beautiful resistance. It is what love requires of us.

                                         The gospel of light is the crossroads of indolence, or action.
                                         Be ignited, or be gone.
                                         ~ Mary Oliver  


If you would like to learn more about the arms fair and the movement against it, here are some links..


And finally, over one hundred people were arrested whilst protesting against the arms fair. If you would like to support them when they face their court charges the dates and times of their plea hearings are here...

https://www.stopthearmsfair.org.uk/events/court-solidarity-stop-arms-fair-defendants/



Tuesday, 3 October 2017

Novena for the Fallen Through ~ for the victims of Grenfell



A novena is an ancient rhythm of prayer repeated over nine hours or nine days consecutively. It is believed that the first novenas, which means 'nine' in Latin, trace their origins to pre-Christian Greek and Roman customs performed by families mourning the death of a loved one, followed by a feast ~ because death must always be woven back into life. Since then they have become more general prayers and devotions to the Divine, often dedicated to a particular saint or to the Virgin Mary.

This is an invitation to join, each full moon, in nine days of simple any-faith prayer in solidarity with those who have 'fallen through' and who cry out for justice. In this way we will seek to weave an act of sacred activism, holding all who are in pain, who may feel lost and ignored, and those who are working for truth and liberty, in threads of wild prayer, fierce hope, and deep community.


In October we will lift prayers for the victims of the Grenfell Towerfire, which took place on 14th June 2017. The official death toll estimates the number of dead to be 80, with 70 injured. However, the local community believe that many more died and are calling for justice. You can read my 'Prayer for Grenfell' here. The fire is subject to a Public Inquiry which was opened on 14th September. Evidence gathering hearings will begin this month. Although the inquiry has been cautiously welcomed the nature of a Public Inquiry is the that Government, whose policies and Austerity measures are implicated in this tragedy, is able to set its terms. Many have described the Grenfell Tower fire as 'corporate manslaughter and, in many ways, it is the Government, and local Government, who are on trial. The community continue to call for a Public Inquest, which would be managed a coroner, instead.

Many of those who died or who lost their homes and their friends were poor, many were immigrants and refugees who fled war in order to find safety for themselves and their families in our land. It is feared that many of their names will never be known. That their deaths will be buried in ashes, in the darkness and confusion of a tower block stairwell. That justice will never be done.

In October's novena we will dedicate our prayers to goddess and St Brigid, who watches over the triple fires of creativity, healing, and transformation, and who, as goddess and saint, offers a hopeful bridge between spiritual traditions. We will lift prayers for the victims of Grenfell, whether dead or homeless, whether scarred in body or in mind, for the Emergency Services who came to their aid, for our press to report truthfully, for justice to be done, for healing, for hearth and home, for lost creativity and possibility, and for fire to be made holy again.

Each day for nine days I will write a prayer dedicated to St Brigid and to one of the aspects of the Grenfell fire and its victims, and share them here. If you would like to join with me, which would be a blessing, then you need only set aside a few minutes each day and perhaps light a candle for hope, for healing, for renewal, and for justice to be done, together with making your prayer using the words that I share or your own. If you prefer not to pray, but would like to support this work, please do light a candle and/or keep our work in mind.

Earlier today someone left a comment for me on social media saying, "don't waste your time on prayers. Do something real instead." Whilst I broadly agree with that sentiment ~ it does matter to make real in the world what we call for in our prayers ~ I have two replies to that comment, although there are many more. Firstly, raising awareness and keeping an event such as the Grenfell Tower, which could be so easily swept under the collective carpet, IS 'doing something real'. And, secondly, prayers are very real. At the very least, they create shared experience and connection, both between people and with whatever, or whoever, we might consider Divine/sacred. In our disconnected world that in itself is a radical act. I believe that both prayer and the call for justice are sacred acts of radical and beautiful resistance. Together we can change the world.

“A spirituality that is only private and self-absorbed, one devoid of an authentic political and social consciousness, does little to halt the suicidal juggernaut of history. On the other hand, an activism that is not purified by profound spiritual and psychological self-awareness and rooted in divine truth, wisdom, and compassion will only perpetuate the problem it is trying to solve, however righteous its intentions. When, however, the deepest and most grounded spiritual vision is married to a practical and pragmatic drive to transform all existing political, economic, and social institutions, a holy force – the power of wisdom and love in action – is born. This force I define as Sacred Activism.” (Andrew Harvey)

If you would like to join in with us on Facebook there's an event page here.


Saturday, 30 September 2017

Luminous Beings Spin the Sun

Luminous beings spin the sun, photo taken in our garden, September 2017

Today, I am deep in writing about the ‘No Faith in War’ event at ‘Stop the Arms Fair’ which I attended earlier this month, of which more soon, but I wanted to share a dream that I had this morning and which seemed beautiful. We live in a little house that is full of spiders, and recently with the turn to autumn our garden has been full of them too. These are the little orb spiders with a beautiful fleur-de-lys pattern on their backs. I am a little afraid of them I admit but I have had to come to terms with their presence and have been spending some time this week in awe of their web-making and hunting skills. And yes, even finding them beautiful. Yesterday, I was gazing at the image that accompanies this piece, and which was taken in our garden last week. I have spent long moments communing with this little spider as she has chosen to suspend her web right in the middle of our lawn and in front of our front room window. There is just no avoiding her. And so, I was looking closely at this image of her and noticed how translucent she is, how the sun seems to shine right through her legs and light up the little hairs on them; radiant, radiating. I had never thought of spiders as being full of light before.

And then this morning, in that space between waking and sleeping, I dreamed of her. And the dream told me that the orb spiders, and other spinners, in our gardens and hedgerows as the year turns to autumn are catching the last rays of summer sun, weaving them into wild and sparkling threads to hold close to the earth, warming her, and carrying us into the winter surrounded by sweet memories of long days and salt-sweat skin; us and all the beings who are contemplating the dark months ahead. It is a beautiful thought and a gentle blessing to sink into as the cold returns.

As I was reflecting on my dream this morning, I remembered that I used to often dream of spiders and that in those dreams they were again filled with light. I came to associate the dreams with good things happening in my life, although often they frightened me. On one occasion, I was staying with a friend and sleeping in an unfamiliar bedroom. I dreamed of a shining spider but, thinking that I was awake and that it was real, I suddenly sat bolt upright and banged my head on a shelf! But still, my spider dreams continued to promise good fortune. I came to look forward to them.

Although spiders have always been a huge fear for me ~ I once came home very late as a teenager, found a huge spider on the stairs and slept downstairs for fear of stepping over it, only to cause my dad to raise the alarm in the morning when he saw that my bed hadn’t been slept in. I found him unsympathetic in the extreme when he discovered what had really happened ~ my slightly quivering and tentative love affair with them began I think when I first attended the Glastonbury Goddess Conference in 2001. I remember that every night when I went back to my bed & breakfast room that there would be a spider of increasing size on the wall. I climbed Glastonbury Tor and, feeling exhausted, sat down on a bench and began chatting to a stranger who happened to be sitting there too. It was all very lovely, and I was feeling quietly holy in that way that you sometimes do when you are young and foolish, but I felt a tickling on my hand and, looking down, saw a huge harvest spider sitting there. Naturally, I flung my arms in the air and fled for my life! I’m not sure what the stranger, or the harvest spider, made of it..

But when it began to feel truly significant was when, on the last day of the conference, there was a ‘giveaway’ of a small gift from the organisers to the participants. We were invited to put our hand into a bag and draw out one of the cards inside, which were goddess images created by my now-friend and talented artist, Clare Beloved. And, of course, my card was ‘Spider Woman’, who is an important Creation figure in Native American culture, and who symbolises creativity and, for many of us, coming to terms with our fears. I still have the card.

The year before I had stood under Louise Bourgeois' awe-inspiring sculpture, 'Maman' ('Mother'), at the opening of Tate Modern in London. It was a powerful experience of what fierce mothering feels like. I found her sacred, her body a cathedral. Maybe that was what called her in...

'Maman' by Louise Bourgeois at Tate Modern, 2000 (Image: The White Review)

During my third year of priestess training, we were asked to do a daily meditation in which we called the barge to take us through the mists to the Isle of Avalon. We were asked to take note of what the barge looked like and who our barge-keeper might be. To my horror, mine was often a dark 6ft long spider with jewels dotted along her sides! I found it quite challenging to get into the barge as it felt so real. When my feeling began to change though was an occasion when I had been worried for some time about having a headache. I very rarely have a headache at all and this one seemed to have been going on for several weeks. During one of my daily meditations my spider barge-keeper came towards me, put the tips of her two front legs gently against each side of my forehead, and my headache went away, never to return. How could I not love her?

And now, through the dream paths, I feel that the spider people have shared a little more of their magic with me. For some time I have thought of autumn as the season of softening, of the breaking down of barriers, of letting go of the hard edges and rigid shapes that we set ourselves in, and so of forgiveness for past hurts and misunderstandings; a mending of the broken web. And, for me, Grandmother Spider has come to symbolise that work. We have much need of her, and of all her luminous children and the light that they seek to weave into our darkest hours.


Orb spider showing her beautiful markings, taken in our garden, September 2017

As an aside, I will just mention that whilst writing I had a phone call and went into the garden to take it. Afterwards I chatted to my neighbour for a few moments. He told me how much he hated all the spiders that had been coming into his house, that they were all over the garden, and that the biggest one he has ever seen is in his shed, making him frightened to go in. Our spider relations have much to endure, energetically and otherwise, living in such close proximity with the human world. My prayer is that they will be sent some light, just as they send it to us. Aho mitake oyasin, amen, blessed be. Inshallah.

                                               ***********************************

Since writing this piece my friend, Cathy Hookey, has very kindly allowed me to share her art; 'Spider Grandmother's Map'. She says, "This was for a project on maps where I had to map a mythology. I chose to look at Native American myths that include the spider in various versions of the creation myth. Known as Spider Woman, Spider Goddess or Spider Grandmother, the feminine spider deity is tied to the Earth & created the world with the Sun God. In one myth Spider Grandmother & the Sun God create the world in stages; the sky, then the earth, the plants, beasts & finally humans, with four women & four men. I represented these in separate circles, I sort of hoped to give a feel of categories to show the order they were created, but also of oneness. I also quite like the idea of the Web of Life, where we are all tied to everything in the world by strands of web, & tried to get that across in a sort of subtle way in this with the spokes on the circle. The layout of the piece was inspired by zodiac maps."


'Spider Grandmother's Map' by Cathy Hookey

I am so grateful that she gave me permission to share her beautiful work of heart here, and we have had quite a marvellous discussion about spiders too!

Saturday, 23 September 2017

A Morning Walk in Autumn Woods


(Image: Jacqueline Durban)

This mist is like angel's breath.
I hunt the fly agaric like a fox
seeking red, the secret fire.
The trees are all aflame and burn themselves to bare,
draw their magic down, burnt toffee for the boar,
hearth-root honey for the sow,
who winds the year to still with cloven hoof and song of briar.

I keep my belly low and snuffle-seek the chanterelle
I wise-woman-walk the web and weave of mycelia
find waxcaps; scarlet, butter, honey, crimson,
King Alfred's cakes to light the inner fire.
I pad-paw the paths of a thousand years,
trust my nose, the knowing of my feet,
sniff out the place where two roads meet,
set sail for longer nights, and shorter days made diamond bright
by frost and fear.

Jacqueline Durban, Autumn Equinox 2013

(first published in 'Earth Pathways Diary')