Tag Archives: yin and yang

Ahead of time

“They say they built the train tracks over the Alps before there was a train that could make the trip. They built it anyway. They knew one day the train would come. Any arbitrary turning along the way, and I would be elsewhere.” Continue reading

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In every ending…a new beginning

The mother could not be such without the child, nor the beginning exist without the ending…and so we go on birthing ourselves through the creative fires of each other, joined together equally by the creative watery flow that courses back and forth; linked by both the “fire” and the “water” processes that generate who we are.

There is no imperative to have been through the literal birthing experience to know and understand this fundamental process of life since it is the basis of all experience; the yin and the yang in action. Many of us have been (or are going) through our own particular version of the kind of fire that transforms and yet we can trust that the water of healing and deeper understanding will always follow. I sense that the healing, invigorating and enlightening waters of this reality are on the brink of breaching their holding spaces and overflowing their edges right now, for all of us, as we collectively birth into the themes of the Aquarius age. Just as I am hearing from water across so many aspects of my life, I sense that we are collectively expectant (and just a little bit nervous…as is only natural) as we reach that equally collective moment of the waters breaking ready to birth something entirely new and transformational into our world. Continue reading

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Uncommon alchemy: a Glastonbury tale

Repeatedly bumping into one or two people that you feel that you know and yet never saying a word to them (except with your eyes), knowing that they feel it too…these are the kind of clues to your own experience that present through the layers of Glastonbury. This along with so many signs and synchronicities that it is is quite possible to feel like you are entering a theme park dedicated to all of your own thematic threads, which gives it an air of detachment from everyday life that starts delivering as soon as you arrive. For this reason, I suspect, Avalon can only really be found through the portal of your own heart-journey, not somebody else’s route, so be prepared to give yourself up to this as fluidly as your timetable allows (preferably, having no such schedule). For my own part, I was struck by my choice of a week in October; an interesting choice, just before All Hallows and yet, I already suspected, going there when Somerset’s dark-pagan underbelly was closest to the surface was part of what was held in store for me…and it was.

Sharing an exceptional few days of pure alchemy working with the ancient landscape of Glastonbury…. (read on). Continue reading

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Getting over the ultimate catastrophe

What I had hit upon…what indeed we are talking about here is a mass case of post-traumatic stress disorder that we all share and which variable triggers in our environment (that is, anything we have come to associate with “catastrophe” at the deepest levels) may well being “playing” inside of us like notes on a piano as these memories ask to be shown to the light of our consciousness so we can heal this planet as one. If we are alive, here and now, we are (at DNA level) survivors of this unthinkable cataclysm that took place in near-history (so, first off, congratulate yourself for that!) and yet it has remained completely suppressed by the orthodox version of history that we are taught and also by our own bodies, which have in effect volunteered to bury the information because it was just too painful to be seen. Such locked away trauma has a tendency to play out through our unconscious behaviour patterns and so-called irrational fears and, sooner or later…in order to heal…must see the light of day by being made conscious. Continue reading

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Leading me up the garden path

The weather that delivered on the day of our long-planned visit to Charleston turned out to be nothing like what I had painted in my head; the sky was tipping water by the bucket-full. But then, of course, everything glistened; the fruit, especially, glistened as though freshly varnished and the petals hugged droplets of water like glass teardrops perfectly poised. We got to marvel at the way the bees knew how to line up with their backs to the wind and hang upside down beneath the flower heads – one on each bloom – until the rainshower was over. We got that kind of light that is clear and crisp, not washed-out and without subtlety as on a typical summer’s day. The velvet reds “zinged” and the greens looked like freshly squeezed life-zest personified; vibrant and rejuvenating to receive with all the senses. One of the gifts was the unexpected juxtaposition of a dripping-wet female form peeking out through vivid wet leaves and abundantly ripe fruit;her wet face had something to tell me and it was nothing at all about tears…”I sleep; I do not weep” were words that came boomeranging back at me later that same weekend in yet another stunning garden and the journey in between turned out to be a labyrinth of self-discovery through a landscape of universal themes. Continue reading

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In search of waterfalls

Something called me back to the Brecon Beacons and Wye Valley this year and I responded to it like a knee-jerk impulse (since we hardly needed yet another trip this busy year…), booking it almost before I had time to … Continue reading

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