The Supernatural in the Natural

Marya at A Spell In Wales has been discussing this phenomenon recently, through the medium of Welsh poetry. In her inimitable and evocative style, she brings to life a Wales long gone, but with us in spirit, never far away, liminal and almost tangible, but removed from us physically, never to return. It is a tantalising picture.

When we’re flying around like paper kites, getting in the way of others and having others cross our paths, we feel stultified, despite the extreme speed at which we’re travelling. REM put it well; ‘…so fast, so numb that you can’t even feel’.

Tess over at Anchors and Masts has written a great post exploring the premise that if you don’t believe you will see beauty, then it is forever a closed door to you. You need to know what you see contains beauty, to feel it in your heart, and to seek it out. She writes:

“…you will not see beauty unless you believe in it. If you believe you will see ugliness and despair, then that is what you will see.”

 How right she is.

Even the unluckiest of us has the chance to see green things growing, see ancient architecture, see water, watch the weather. These are the very most basic elements of the divine in the mundane that we can avail ourselves of. And perhaps, they are the elements to which we should turn if we ever forget what it is we’re about. The building blocks, if you like, that form the basis of the bridge between our everyday lives and the realisation that we live in the midst of a miracle.

Look closely at the perfection of the rain on a leaf; think about the ages and the rain and the peoples that have come and gone around the oldest building in your town. Feel the years in the rocks, and at the circles and in the woods. Know you’re part of it; you don’t own any part of it, but rather, it owns you. We do not ride on the back of this world, it carries us because it can.

The worlds that went before, the worlds embodied in other languages and prayers, are there for us to feel if only we can shut up for long enough and allow the impressions to sink in. Fast, numb, and missing out. Such a world out there, all for the stopping and listening!

Kilpeck

With PiedPiper this afternoon to Kilpeck Church, a most amazing and beautiful Romanesque church close by, dating from around 1140.

I had read previously about the doorway, shown here, but really that was only the most outward and obvious thing to look at! It is truly a revelation around every corner, so you’ll excuse me if I post plenty of pics!

The front door. The carving is astonishingly crisp after 900 years and at least three periods of intense restoration. Despite being carved sandstone, it has borne the years remarkably well.

This tombstone was just outside the door; demonstrating the Victorian liking for the passionflower as a symbol of piety and devotion.

Here we have the famous Kilpeck Sheela-na-gig.

After the tour of the Church, we headed up behind the churchyard to Kilpeck Castle. The weather was superb, one minute hot bright sun, and the next, as we reached the top of the castle mound, it began to snow in earnest. We were like snowmen within five minutes. It felt precisely as though the Goddess was welcoming us. There are three thorn trees planted in a triangle on the summit, and some very dilapidated stoneworks which look apt to fall off the hill at any second. Being bad, we ignored the ‘Keep Out’ notices and approached the stones. They were wreathed in ivy and sloe and damson blossom, and a bee came out to see us; befuddled by the snow he bumbled off and hid. Despite the bleakness of the weather, the white and golden blossom against the snow was beautiful and uplifting to see.

These two were there, fragile but shining, to welcome us!

PP found some lovely bleached blond sticks to take home, and we left a pomander I’d made, decorated with early blossom, to say thank you to the Goddess for such a perfect day.

Words can’t compete with pictures - so I’ve let them do the talking! Blessed be!

 

Full Moon

The moon will become full later on today; I want to catch the wave as it turns and spend the next month rolling into myself and doing some serious introspection. This may be my equivalent of being shriven; I wish to approach Ostara cleaned of some of my more obvious warts and carbuncles!

The tone of late has been quite prickly and harassed, yes, I noticed; so perhaps a still calm place and some time to think will work wonders. I have a great deal of reading to do.

One of the points raised by Gardner in The Meaning of Witchcraft is the similarity, intended or no, between ancient churches and sacred groves. The nave pillars, spreading into ceiling vanes parallel trees, and the east window in many churches is round, symbolising the sun. Then there’s the frankly interesting carving; floriate and foliate bosses, green men, imps, animals dressed as priests and congregations, sometimes devils. I know of at least one instance locally where the left pillar leading to the altar has a grinning devil’s head out there at waist height, looking merry and naughty, and looking the seated congregation right in the eye. He’s not even mentioned in the notes that accompany the church walk.

PP and I intend to spend some contemplation time in local churches of note over the next few weeks; it might seem odd, a couple of witches choosing to go sit in churches; it might even sound vaguely blasphemous, but I assure you it isn’t. All witches should take the time to visit these places of other worship; they are open to all. It’s friendly and respectful to sit and reflect in these spaces, and the grave cheer of the atmosphere will warm and calm you. And, particularly in Britain, churches are built on top of or in the midst of more ancient pre-Christian places of worship. The Early Christians built their churches there for practical reasons - the locals were going there anyway, so it made sense for the Christians to be there too - and for solidly spiritual reasons - these were the places of power.

Many churches are also taking part in the ‘Caring for God’s Acre’ project, which involves husbanding of the wild resources in the churchyards; quite a number of rare and protected plants and animals can be found.

All in all, churches are a great resource and we’re lucky to have them. The ancient builders, masons and workers may very well have been building to their master’s plan, but they clearly incorporated their own pantheons and particular preferences for decoration; perhaps this is evidence incarnate of the old religion at work; we’ll never know for sure. But seeking out these whispers from the past is rewarding and enlightening; and at bottom good for the soul.