Celebrating the Land
Suggestions of ways to celebrate the land and annual cycles of life
Winter Solstice 1 – The Dark
A few degrees, a slightly raised temperature, and the ice trapped water is released to flow again. Frozen snow and frost has cleared and another water phase dominates the landscape – drizzle. An all pervading mist that builds droplets at the end of thin branches in gloomy light, nothing revealed, all motionless dense fog. Birds chatter, not with the joy of sun and light, but with the small messages of 'we made it through the worse of the weather', time to rest after the ordeal of the freeze. By their twittering, each knows the other is there. It will not be a smooth transition to spring. There is likely to be more freeze and snow, yet now there is a respite, a platform on which to relax, in the move on to longer days.
And so it is inside the house. We have struggled through the snow and enjoyed the colourful joy of Christmas, mid-winter feasts and Winter Solstice, the candles lit, the fire warming.
We waken in the dark. Under the blanket of the unknown the day begins and ends. 8am. Outside, doors close noisily and a car starts. A dog barks. The blackbird sets up its alarm call. A blue tit chirrups a tuneful melody, calming everything. Another darkness swings high over the land as black feathered crows move from night to daytime roost. Awkward sudden calls break through the damp air as they head down hill towards the river banks. They cannot see each other. It is impossible, except as the car swishes by the hedge and for a moment two beams of light sweep the scene. Participating in the morning another, concealed in darkness, does not communicate its presence. Hidden in the undergrowth an early morning hunting cat, camouflaged black and white, uses the cover to search for prey. But, being a domestic pet, this cat is not a danger to the high branch perch of the small birds, and they continue to sing.
Images of Winter Darkness
Darkness brings an opportunity for quiet.
And so at this time we do not celebrate with song, candle, dance or any activity. We celebrate the land in quiet. Take a dark coloured or black sheet of paper.
On it with chalk, probably white, draw the outline of your hand.
In the area of the palm of your hand draw a winter scene with the chalk.
Whatever comes to you, a woodland scene, a starry night sky, a seed lying deep in the earth, maybe a bed with a figure lying under warm blankets. Bring to your drawing the peace, quiet and calm of winter.
Celebrate with your artistry the earth in the winter darkness. Releasing frozen thoughts
What is secret and hidden is often the most magical, and it can be the most threatening. The land is challenging us to discover what is hidden in our own lives. What do we conceal in the caves of darkness in our lives?
Often in the dark we fill our minds with fanciful thoughts. We focus on what terrors and fears the darkness holds for us, rather than what is 'right' in the world. Allow one thought to arise as you look at the scene you have drawn. Now ask yourself 'is this really true?'
Often when in the dark, we feel alone. In the light we can see the crowd that surrounds us. In the dark we see very little.
Often in the dark we cannot see our goals. They are obscure in the dim distance ahead. At least we believe they are ahead of us. Perhaps they are nearer than we realise. How can we tell in the dark? We can only take a few steps at a time.
Often in the dark we feel unbalanced. We do not have visible objects that we can judge our position by. What contents are not visible in your picture that might be there? Would it be improved if they were visible? How would it be improved? And what is gained by their absence?
Often in the dark we are able to conceal a scowl. We can hide our anger, annoyance, our judgements. We expect so much of others. No one behaves all the time as you would wish them to. In the dark our senses are magnified. We see less, but we hear more clearly, and often what we hear we do not like. And what we hear might be silence. This can be the most annoying sound of all.
Gather a small bowl or saucer, small jug of water and either a dark cloth or paper that completely covers the bowl. Sit quietly and bring to mind one thing that you do not talk about. We all have something that is unspoken. Search your heart and you will find it. When you have pour water from the jug into the small bowl, imagining as you do so that you are imbibing the water with your unspoken thoughts. Now place that covered bowl of water in the freezer. These hidden thoughts are going to be frozen.
Return to the bowl of frozen thoughts tomorrow. You have a choice. Do you wish to leave these thoughts frozen, hidden in darkness, or do you wish to forgive and forget? When ready to share, remove the bowl from the freezer. By holding these frozen thoughts who is hurting most? The freezing bowl is cold in your hands. Are you suffering for the thoughts that you retain? Go outside and turn it upside down, so that the frozen water will melt and fall directly onto the soil. Your frozen fears, your hidden magic, can now be released. But not released into the bright light of day but into the transforming energies of the dark depths of the earth.
Choose the type of ground you wish these thoughts to be transformed by. Maybe it is infertile land, gravel or concrete. Here the watery thoughts will evaporate and disappear. Or maybe you place it on fertile ground where the energy of your thoughts in the water will be transformed and used by the resident plants for growth. Whichever you choose, know that nothing stays hidden forever. Nothing is frozen forever. Everything thaws, transforms, changes and flows. Thank the earth for receiving your secrets.
Winter – a harsh, cruel disruption, when we are challenged to cope with remorseless conditions.
However, whatever the actual season, the world can often seem as during winter, a bleak and pitiless place. Often in our personal lives we might feel attacked by forces over which we have no control. Watching and considering bird activity at this time of year can teach us much.
Observation is often the key to wisdom.
The stout crows gather and socialise on the bare ash tree branches. The tree sways like a great sailing ship, tossed in a wintry sea. Some take off and glide, hastily flapping wings on the wind before returning to the tree. So many stormy days. Plenty of wing stretching and active flying to be done. The group rest, sending out a scout or two. Those in pairs snuggle close together. It is preparation and assessment time, knowing there will be intense work ahead for the colony.
When not chasing away rivals and intruders they sit, eyes open, appraising twigs and branches suitable for a bit of DIY to renovate last year's untidy nests. Then, for no apparent reason, all sense a need to visit the small woodland downhill and launch into the air with a low level flight over green pastures. Later at sunset, the outline of black birds moving through the dusk sky signifies their return to familiar territory, high up in the roosting sites of the beech trees.
In the scrubby bushes at the base of the ash tree the robins know they can survive the winter, live through the snow and ice, for their feathers maintain a constant body temperature. They appreciate the berries and fruits left on the bushes from the autumn. Sometimes tamed they feed from the hands of helpful humans in a back garden restaurant, especially if there are wriggling worms available. Having spied a promising snack, their heads bob as if they had hiccups, focussing on the tasty morsel, then peck and gulp. The fluffy red breast immediately castes a hopeful black eye at the empty space, waiting for it to be filled again.
Yet Ireland is best known as a haven for overwintering refugees. The mild wet winters are bliss to waders, geese, swans, ducks, gulls and other waterfowl escaping the ice-bound lakes of the far northern latitudes. There is room for all on the inland loughs and coastal estuaries. Some just re-fuel as they pass over the country, travelling huge distances between winter and summer homes. Others stay for a winter retreat, appreciating wetlands and mudflats that rarely freeze.
Winter is not a silent time and calls over the landscape sound crisp and clear. The familiar caw of the crows, twittering of mixed groups of tits, and chattering flocks of gregarious birds. Communication is all important now, either foraging for food, maintaining a relationship or finding a new mate, remember spring is just around the corner of time. You can celebrate winter by listening to the sounds of the season and by capturing it in photographs.
There is lots of advice on how to help the birds in winter – providing roosting pouches where dozens of wrens might huddle together, gathering branches and evergreen twigs into a large pile that provides night time perches, keeping water baths clear of ice, hanging nut and fat balls in trees, putting food out especially early morning and late afternoon, and providing a variety of foods for the seed eaters and the insect lovers.
We can celebrate the presence of birds in our lives by offering them practical help at this time of harsh weather, and they in turn draw our attention outside, when maybe we prefer to be warm and cosy indoors under the duvet.
By watching now you can see what is missing in survival provisions in your area. Maybe there are activities you can plan to create a more comfortable winter next year. Is the space you share with the birds a mini-oasis or an infertile desert? The first assessment is of the plants in the
garden. Are they full of seeds and berries for the winter? Is there food for survival? And is there shelter? Choosing just one new evergreen bush to plant in the summer might make all the difference to next winter's bird survival. And what is the water supply? Can you set up a water feature this summer? Make some notes for spring and summer projects.
The land and its creatures are engrossed in survival. You learn by watching them that, of course, their two requirements are a safe roost and food. We all need a roof over our heads. In going back to basics perhaps it is time to review the place where you live.
There is time now to consider if it is a structure you are content to be in. Is your nest appropriate to your life, will it see you through another season? Winter is a great time to start planning changes or additions for your home, even for planning for next winter.
How do birds survive the cold?
Their feathers provide insulation – how well is your house insulated?
Their legs and feet have specially adapted scaly skin that limits heat loss – how do you limit heat loss through windows, doors and floors?
They have eaten well during the autumn and have stored extra body weight – do you have large empty spaces which could be filled or covered with warm materials?
They will spread their wings and sunbathe if the weather is good and fluff and preen their feathers to maintain air pockets that hold heat – do you utilise the heat of the sun in any way, open the windows and allow the heat in on warmer days, keeping the air fresh in your home?
They huddle together to keep warm, with less activity, going into a state of torpor – are there areas of your home that provide cosy retreats?
Thus for survival in the bleak winters, both the earth season and the life experience, there seem to be two options... we can retreat and wait for warmer times when opportunities and possibilities are clearer, or we can gather our reserves and face the demons of dread and death. Both options are valid. There are times when retreat and inaction is the wise course in our lives. There are times when we need to be active and forage for supplies and plan for the future.
A lone scout waiting for breakfast in the ash tree branches.
These green sprouting daffodils have been busy, unseen underground, hidden beneath their winter duvet of soil, with the occasional veil of snow. Breaking through the papery skin of the bulb that fed them through the winter, they sent out roots for extra nourishment and, having dined, propelled upwards.
Their breakthrough the mush of dead leaves and broken twigs to the light of day are the first signs of returning life. Appearing earlier than last year, perhaps they will be skimpy with their flowers or have they prepared a multitude of blooms to delight us.
They are not creating themselves in the same shape and size as last year but, as the selfsame constituents, embracing change. Would they want to turn the clock back and be exactly identical to last spring's growth? No, they bring a new expression to what they were. Change the old routine, have a bit of excitement, design something fresh. Rejuvenation. Try on the new clothes of the new year. The plants are sampling some untested wear. What trendy gear will they put on? Do they want to be tidy and respectable, a little battered around the edges like an old pair of corduroy trousers, or relaxed in casual gear? The blueprint has been prepared through the long winter darkness, now the construction can begin.
These are one of the earlier plants to shift into fresh life underground. But there are other hidden forces now stirring. Other seeds are sending out their roots, feeding their plans for the coming year.
What designs do the carrots and parsnips have to excite us?
What amusing vegetables will there be this summer?
Will there be a bumper crop?
We do not need a total revolution, a completely new concept, the plants have done what they do best, adapted with the materials and qualities they already have. The daffodils will still be daffodils and the carrots will be carrots. But within those restrictions they can each express their individuality.
Perhaps now take a moment to look outside the window, or go outside. Where are the breakthroughs in your neighbourhood? Can you see tender green shoots in the soil, or early signs of leaf on bushes? Is there any green energy erupting on the apparently dead branches of trees? What can you discover of the turning season?
The parallels to our own lives are obvious. We come through the darkest of times and at some point there will be a breakthrough. We may not detect summertime of unspoilt soft golden sand, endless blue sky, clear warm sea, or the amazing wonders of the world, but we do see that are tiny promises, small chinks of light, sparkling amongst the blackness that surrounds us. Like a sneeze they stop us unexpectedly. We were not anticipating them. Little packages of change burst upon us, one day invisible, the next day alive and active. Springtime has left its calling card and accepts the invitation to join in the revelries of summer.
The clear starry wintry nights can be very beautiful, and very cold. In the dewy dawn, the stars fade and a washed blue sky anticipates the new day. Mists form in the valleys and flow over the hills. Normally we cannot see the air, do not know where it is flowing. But these freezing mists shine white, drawing our attention to the movements of the atmosphere around us. We all know that hot air rises and that cold air falls. And the mists reveal to us the cold air flowing over the hillsides down into the dales and getting wedged into frost pockets beside walls and hedges. It is as if the clouds have descended to earth and formed lakes of freezing fog.
The winter sun is still low in the sky and has little intensity. Even so, there is enough heat to warm up the earth wherever it's rays of light fall. Whereas some areas of soil are transformed and there is breakthrough other sites are still frozen, held in the grip of winter. In these frozen places nothing can flow and new growth is held back. A contrasting position, a slightly different perspective, hiding in dark hollows, standing in the shadows of larger plants and trees, sitting in a pool of cold air, all these situations deny an opportunity to enjoy the longer hours of daylight or any chance of the warming beams of light. In these frost pockets the land remains hard, cold, brittle as thin metal that cracks and snaps when bent. And exposed plants become limp and distorted. Roots are unable to take up water in the frozen ground, and die of drought. We do not locate tender plants in frost pockets. Or if we do we cover them, leaving old leaves and stems in place. These take the force of the freezing conditions while fresh spring growth underneath will be protected.
What are the advantages of frost pockets? The plants in frost pockets are not lured into false security by an early melt. There is no growth until everything is fully in place to support the new life. When their close surroundings thaw there is enough heat in the sun that it will never refreeze. No false dawn. Eager for a thaw, plants often put out fresh tender growth, that can be taken unawares by a setback, damaged and sometimes killed.
There is value in patience. This is a big learning for our own lives. It often brings an advantage to hold back, to not rush into a project, relationship, event, or whatever is happening for us. Just as the plants often sense that there is a change, that the season is turning from winter to springtime, we often feel we have turned the corner and that the way ahead is bright and clear. These frost pockets remind us to step carefully.
There will be areas where our hopes may be frozen just a little longer. Or maybe we should not
be planted in this situation in the first place. Do we have the emotional, mental and physical strength to withstand these areas of cold? The big picture is that life will be renewed, but the details warn us to be aware of limitations – our own and those imposed on us.
Frozen pockets meditation
In meditation imagine that it is just after a pink hued sunrise and you are walking along a country lane overhung with large trees, straggly branches of thorny blackberries and bare skeletal bushes. On your right is a low stone wall and a metal gate. You can hear the splash of a small stream and push the gate open, hesitating for a moment to ask if you might enter this space. If you get an intuitive 'no', stay for sometime by the gate listening to the water or continue your walk down the lane, there maybe something further along for you to see. If you get a 'yes', enter through the gate. The stream is a mere trickle on your left hand side. You had expected a stronger flow the noise it was making. It runs over bare stones and there is no growth here.
On your right is a bank of grass, bathed in sunlight, wet and bright green, the overnight frost cleared. The path turns to the left, sunken into the earth and you are unable to see where it goes. You follow it around a low mound, with a tree, bare branched, standing on the top, reaching into the blue sky. The path leads downwards and the air becomes colder and you realise that the grass now has bleak pockets of white frost. The sun has not reached into this area, low and hidden in the shade of the the grassy slopes.
You have now followed the stream to its source, to the well. This is covered, a low domed stone lined space. Inside ferns grow and you reach down and drink. The water is chill but not cold. Then, looking around at the surrounding grassy banks, you breathe out and the warmth of your breath melts some of the frost. You realise if you breathed really hard you could melt all the frost. You take a deep inhale then gently, slowly, release it.
Breathing in all the cold and frost, holding for a moment, the air is warmed by the heat within your body and lit by your own inner light. Breathe out and the frost melts down into a watery liquid, feeding the plants. With the touch of the fresh water they visibly stir. This excites you and you take another deep breath and gently release a stream of your own warmth and light again.
This time the grasses seem filled with life and you notice small shoots appearing through the ground. Again you take in another deep breath and release it and this time there is a swoosh of life, growth and vibrant energy.
The plants appear everywhere and you watch in amazement as the ground that had been full of frost pockets minutes before is now a colourful wildflower paradise, full of delicate blue and yellow spring flowers. Delighted you enjoy the moment.
When you are ready you walk back down the bending pathway and out through the metal gate and onto the lane. It is with happiness in your heart that you know the spring is arriving.
When ready finish the meditation, eat and drink, return to your everyday life.