She moves toward you to speak
oracles, inklings
This week, a letter between gods, from January 2018. The verbatim account of an everyday yet mythic encounter in a bank in Wimbledon in November 2017. A poem / lost song from 1999. All alongside new works from my drawing desk, this May.
I am home, floating strangely between jetlag and the task of levigating deep blood red ochre for my next class. Wish me luck, as I am not yet quite here, nor still there.
Audio version
She moves toward you to speak, so settle.
I was there when you were unable to quell or protect, it's how I found my first words.
When I ran hills, bade the earth father rise up to meet my feet.
My rage does not burn kin, now redirected to simmer meaning. The non-doing and the doing are what I call baptism by immersion. Your congregation awaits you, you know them already. Shame holds back forward movement, and fear of being wrong: caught out, a fool, a believer. We don’t worry about such names anymore.
Be a fool - it is essential practice. Recognise life, in hare sprint, owl hoot, charred wood, hard water, my lover’s fierce face, the looming trees full of leaf, sweat on a hot day, sudden changes in those we love, your own face when you don't know it.
Doubt and devotion are as sun and moon. Whatever I could imagine of you, you are not. Hid for centuries within the Celtic practice of the new faith, you have a noble lineage. And when you remember this, your heart unblocks, and your thymus nestles closer to it, for you it is the nectar, for me a breeze to lift bees.
I am still dressed in midnight blue. My ornaments - the firmament. Whether leaved in paper or interwoven only in dreams, I persist, the only shift is in the naming.
Inanna, Demeter, Brigid, Mary, Wild Mother, perhaps even, first of all, Ananke - Necessity.
Since the amino acids needed to bind together, the protozoans, the algae; all necessity. No different now there's pairs that last; rings, houses, contrivances. In joining I am there, in repelling I am there, in desire I am there. What else can sustain life and make the unborn born?
Flint shards cut because of sharpness, their edge one molecule thick. Cups contain because of emptiness; the wine even displaces the air therein. Remove the burr on the razor's edge with the soft leather strop so it shaves cleanly. Wipe the dust from the cup with a cloth so that the drink stays clear.
This is removal and is most of The Way.
Traces must be left: voice, words, movements, images, customs, practices. Graces must be said, bedtime stories read, supper made.
This is fruition, completion of The Way.
My arms are real and make this circle round you. The space they delineate is empty. Come into it!
Meeting the Crone in Nat West
I popped into the bank to pay in some money on the way to work and an older lady, perhaps in her seventies, who was in front of me, turned around and said,
‘You go ahead, dear. I am only here to deal with the actual human beings, as I hate the machines and I won’t use them. You go ahead, I am not in a hurry. I am just here to get cash out, I am surprised it was there so soon, but I won’t starve, I will never starve.’
I thanked her and went in front and she said,
‘You see, the computers are always taking so much information from us, and you should give them as little as possible, shouldn’t you?’
Yes, I said, I agree.
‘It’s all the wrong way round, the youngsters haven’t got a clue and give it all away. I pay my taxes, you have to pay your taxes. I paid a lot last year, but apart from that you should give as little to them as you can. I smoke a lot, and they get all those taxes. But I don’t drink, and I have lived long. I am old, I won’t say how old, but you’ve got to have your fun haven’t you? And sex, yes well you need to have one, or two, really great lovers in your life, don’t you think? None of this constant bonking every day - makes it worthless. Getting married, then beds in separate rooms, which helps as you can just visit, and it makes it more like being lovers having an affair, more exciting, isn’t it?’ She touched my elbow.
Yes, I said, I totally agree.
‘You’re from the telly aren’t you?’
No, I said
‘Ah, but I feel I know you, isn’t it strange we have met here now?’
Yes, I said, smiling.
‘You are a Bohemian aren’t you?’ touching my elbow again, and me not minding.
Yes
‘A Gypsy?’
No
‘Ah, what I mean by that is that you travel a lot don’t you? Or you’re a Viking’
Yes, a lot, I teach martial arts in Scandinavia and Shetland.
‘Ah, I knew it, you are a Bohemian and you are free. We are lucky aren’t we? I do like your outfit. I hope you have a good weekend, it was lovely to meet you.’
It was lovely to meet you too, have a great weekend.
I walked to the teller and paid in my wages. When I turned around a few minutes later, the old lady was gone. 1
No Lights
You recall how you drove
from one end
of the city to the other
never having to stop
for even one
red light
You see this as a sign
This week’s good thing: Many herbs grow wild or feral on the cliff tops where I live. Today I picked rosemary, but there are fennel, chamomile, bay, sorrel, rock samphire, hogweed, alexanders, lavender and sage within a 4 minute walk of this desk. The bees and I are very happy. May I gently urge you to crush some pungent leaves between your fingers this week? Have you inhaled good strong scents today (apart from coffee)? If not, you know what to do. Our noses are not meant for aseptic blandness. They are for nuzzling, sniffing things out, and thereby knowing what is truly good.
This is an entirely true story.
The Crone........😍
I particularly loved the crone story