Round the Tree

Following on from yesterday's blog where I joined a group of people at the start of the Rhythms of the World Festival in Hitchin to do a spot of drumming, this has now been drawn.

Rhythms of the world

Around the friendly tree we sit
Thirty faithful souls all join
With hearts and drums on a summer's eve
To pray for goodwill and worldly peace.

Tomorrow the festival starts anew
But now we meet to share the space
Amidst flowers, wood and inspiring art
We join together; woman, man and child.

Drum song forms and fills the air
Rhythms merge with energy and pace
A barefoot dancer circles the tree
In unity with drums our prayers released.

Fire

The evening is warm, but the overcast sky and brisk breeze brings with it a hint of possible rain. The light is fading as I pull an old wheelbarrow to in front of the summerhouse whose doors are open to welcome the summer night. The barrow has a layer of bricks in the bottom and on these I have built a fire with logs from the woodpile. The fire is lit and it takes only a few minutes before the logs are well ablaze and flames are reaching up warms with wild energy. Sparks occasionally jump out and add to the spectacle. As the darkness draws in so the firelight warms the woodwork of the summerhouse with a deep orange glow and the fire settles to a gentle steady burn that takes all possibility of a slight chill away. 

The garden feels incredibly peaceful. The low roar of the gentle flames is reflected in the sound of the background town traffic. Not far way the peace is broken by the crackle of some fireworks - presumably a small celebratory display of some sorts. Apart from this my peace is undisturbed. 

With me I have my drum. I haven't played it for several years. I never played it in our old garden, it never seemed right and I always felt self-conscious as neighbours were often moving about their gardens at night. Here, in the new house, the end of the garden seems much more private and remote and so it was with a gentle hand that I felt comfortable in returning to an old friend. So, by the warm light of the glowing logs I played and just relaxed into a special time of peace and reflection. 

I thought about how our earthly existence most likely originally began with fire and to fire it will return. In the middle of this we have come to an existence where by fire has become to be something more of something managed by man though nature still has the ultimate power to use it as she will. We are drawn to fire, we are mesmerised by its beauty yet destructive power. It creates, yet it destroys. To me it is a symbol of pain and also creativity that brings healing.

The fire burned down to just a pile of deep red charcoal and I was half tempted to sleep out beside it, but I was rather in need of a good night's sleep as the next day I would be out on the bike all day and I didn't want to get too tired. The fire and the drum were my friends this evening and we shared a wonderful time together.

Spring Equinox

Sage smoke, wafted from glowing embers invites and welcomes. Within the awaiting firelight, in silence we sit, the only voice comes from the pulse of a single drum beat. Beside me are vases of tulips. Although the flower heads have closed in the cold dark air, their presence is a symbol of the energy of spring that is now evident in nature outside. My attention is drawn to the altar beside me and the still sculptured forms of the wood branches with adorning objects that hold intentions and desires. Behind, a weaving of fine artificial blossoms reminds me of oriental art and carries my thoughts to the suffering in Japan.

We await, around fifteen of us, amongst the stones, cushions, flickering light of the burning logs and candles beneath a clear bright moonlit sky that opens out beyond the skylight.

We are a microcosm of hope, peace, community and belonging in a seemingly present troubled world. The energy of spring brings hope and release, but also despair at the news that bites into our lives with tragedy.

As we begin to drum the energy that is released is a sign of our frustration, a need for change and a desire to send intention and prayer.

***

Do I treasure the magic or do I let it go?

Drumming on the Hills

The past few weeks of beautiful warm summer sunshine has enticed me out to various locations with my drum. In early June I travelled up to Croft Ambrey (in Herefordshire) after work in the hope of watching the sunset over the Welsh hills. I didn't quite manage to get there on time, but I was rewarded with a wonderfully warm and quiet period of space up on the hill top. The May blossom on the various hawthorns on the hillside was superb and as the evening light faded I had a very peaceful, yet expressive time in the landscape I love so much.


Last weekend I happened to be awake at about 3.15am on a restless night and decided that this would be a good opportunity to go and watch the sunrise on the Pegsdon Hills near Hitchin. Not being sure at what time sunrise was, I wasn't too sure I would get there on time as it was already getting light. I strapped my drum to the back of my bike and cycled off through the country lanes, with the moon watching me, and up the hill above Pegsdon. It was a tiny bit chilly, the sky was clear of coud and the views were superb. I found a space to sit just sheltered from the cool breeze and at that moment the bright orange sun just began to emerge from the haze on the distant horizon. I think it was about 4.55am. My drum wasn't really in the mood for playing - being a bit flat in the cold and dampness of the early dawn.

Where have I been?

Here I am in the middle of June and this blog seems so distant to me. I have written so little this year because my energy seems to need to be directed elsewhere.

Work is thoroughly rewarding and challenging and I do enjoy it but it has been demanding and it has taken me a while to settle into the new working environment from a psychological point of view. It has been mentally tiring at times and settling into a balance is taking time. My hands have been troubled with RSI and I am having to work hard with self-physiotherapy to calm things down. This has meant that I have been unwilling to use my hands for typing at home. Thankfully, I am now much better and none of my work has been affected.

Much to my annoyance, I also seem to have been afflicted with periods of deep anxiety and I am hopefully overcoming this with exercise, meditation and self-awareness exercises. It all seems pathetic really as all I am doing is well within my ability but, again, I feel as though I am trying to find a balance.

My back went on me a few weeks ago and so I am trying to get that back in order too.

This seems to have been a Spring of readjustment and mental struggle to the new situation in which I find myself.

My Permaculture Course is superb and I now have only one more weekend in July to complete.

The vegetables in the garden are doing well but I am not sure if I will continue with the allotment as I can't put much effort into it. The garden is easy to micro-manage whereas the allotment is a small drive away and not quite so easy to visit. I will re-evaluate it at the end of the year.

I've been out with my drum to various locations: a drumming group, the hills of Herefordshire, my permaculture course and the garden summerhouse.

Blessings.

Camping and Drumming

Recently I spent a few days camping. I spent one night at Eastnor Deer Park campsite near Ledbury in Herefordshire and then three nights at the Resurgence Readers Camp held at Green and Away, a tented and 'green' conference centre near Worcester. With four days at my disposal I wanted to make sure that I used them wisely. The Resurgence camp was a great opportunity to meet a diverse group of people but, as I had found last year to be so emotionally challenging and inspiring, I decided not to attend any of the talks or activities this year. I talked lots, did quite a bit of washing up and enjoyed just sitting around chatting to people. It was great to spend time with people who shared many of my interests and ideas and I appreciated not feeling quite so isolated.

There were some things that were inspiring to me about my time way and I will just recount them here. I don't want this to be a diary as such so I'm just going to write what comes into my mind and not focus on times, places or people as such.

I had pitched my tent in Eastnor Deer Park on the south-western edge of the Malvern Hills and walked up to the monument on the hill above the campsite. During my tea I had been watched by two doe Roe Deer and five stags then appeared out of the woods to watch me as I left the tent and began to walk up the hill. It was about 9pm and the light was just beginning to fade. The rain laden clouds were giving way to a much clearer sky and there was quite a cool breeze. I took my drum with me and enjoyed a decent time drumming in the approaching darkness. With the air being cold and damp, my drum was distinctly sounding flat but it was wonderful to play it and listen to how it sounded with the breeze in the trees. This was the first night of my holiday and I felt a great release of freedom from the isolation and restriction I had felt at work. I had driven three hours to get to this place and now I was at home in the landscape, the wind and the rain. There was one moment of looking up when I was thinking about light and immediately seeing the only star in a patch of sky that was very moving.

I took my drum on a gloriously warm and sunny morning up onto Midsummer Hill on the southern end of the Malvern Hills. Walking up to the hilltop just after 6am was a wonderful experience and the views were superb - so clear under a cloudless sky. There was a strong breeze, but in the lee of the hilltop and the concrete seat, I enjoyed a great time of drumming. Weaving seemed to be the theme - weaving the sound of the drum through the landscape. I find that small chants can come naturally to me in places like this. I can't always remember them as they come and go with the flow of my drumming and whatever I am thinking or praying about. It is a very "in the moment" sort of experience.

The River Teme runs beside the Green and Away camp and I took my drum down the river bank one morning after breakfast. It was warmish, mostly sunny and no-one else was about. The river was significantly higher than last year and the water a muddy brown with silt from recent rains. The Indian Balsam was in full flower and long-tailed tits fluttered around seemingly unperturbed in the willow trees just beside me as I drummed. I then sat down and spent an hour or so drawing my experience, by which time other campers were out walking and enjoying the river too.

I spent an hour by myself in the yurt 'sitting room' drumming. This is almost one of my most favourite places in which to be. Quite, surrounded by soft cushions, warm in the summer sunshine and very welcoming.

I had a good walk up onto Croft Ambrey and then a few hours drawing in the walled garden at Croft Castle. Between the many rain showers there was lovely sunshine, but it was so intermittently wet that I didn't get as much drawing done as I would have liked.

Driving from Leominster with my mother to our old farm. It was a beautifully warm, clear and sunny evening and the countryside around Tenbury Wells and towards Hanley Child looked stunning.

I'm not used to talking so much and so when faced with so many interesting people who all share many of my different interests it was fun but quite tiring to practice quality communication. I did appreciate that some people sought me out from time to time as I felt I was always giving, always being the one to initiate conversation - and I was trying very hard to be pleasent, chatty, respectful and friendly to all whom I met.

Visting the Knapp and Papermill Nature Reserve. This has to now be one of my favourite places on the planet! I went there twice this year having fallen in love with it last year. The river, the old apple orchard, the woodland, the meadows.... sigh!

Finding time to do some drawing that wasn't rushed was wonderful. I did a couple of pictures at the Resurgence camp that I put up in the yurt and those that saw them and realised I had done them were quite appreciative of them. I felt I had contributed something in a quiet, sort of unseen way to the camp. If i go again next year I might draw upon this and do something a bit more.

Drumming on Croft Ambrey

On Sunday 3rd May at about 8.30am I arrived at the car park at Croft Castle. It was empty which was a good sign as I thought I might then have the chance to be up on the hill by myself. It is the Bank Holiday weekend and there will soon be many people visiting the castle and the hill.

I walk up to the top of the woods and take off my walking boots and socks. The long dew-covered grass which I first walk though is freezing cold but on the main path the shorter grass and dry earth is much more comfortable. I have my drum with me and I begin a meditation walk that takes me up to the hillfort, around the main rampart and up onto the top of the hill. It is cool, but the sunshine is bright and clear between the clouds. It is an amazing morning. The light is so clear and the colours are beautiful. I look carefully at the views, trees and the landscape around me as I walk slowly and steadily, carried by the gentle beating of the drum. The drum performs superbly in the warming sunshine. Its sound seems to resonate with the wood of the trees. I watch a buzzard in the distance and try and work out how to mirror its flight with my drum. This is a wonderful place to be and, as I complete my playing and meditation, the first of other walkers start appearing on the footpaths around the hill. I set my camera up on a sock and walking boot and take some pictures of myself with my drum.

I wonder when the last time a drum was heard in this landscape. I am sure it would have been common in Iron Age times, but who else has drummed up here? It is a superb location to listen, to watch, to observe and to meditate. The views from the hill are magnificent and, on a bright spring morning like today when the leaves are coming out and the landscape is in full spring awakening, they are probably at their best.

Connections: Air, Deer and Drums

Had an interesting day today that was inspiring on many levels. Sometimes you can just get caught out by the unexpected when you begin to make connections with the environment in which you live.

Meditation on the air around me
After a wet and windy night I find myself out for a walk on a cold and windy, but sunny day. I find a place to sit against a fence post at the edge of a field. The ground is very wet so I find some drier dead nettle stalks and sit upon those. I am sheltered by some tall holly bushes and face the sun. It is actually quite pleasant and warm though I am wrapped up well.

Today the air seems excited. A wild wind blew in the night and the roads are littered with twigs, small branches and leaves. Large puddles have formed and not yet had time to drain away. After the cold weeks of Christmas, the air senses a hint of warmth where the wind is calmed and the sun is allowed to warm. The wind is blowing from the north west; brisk, bringing a gentle swaying to the nearby trees. It feels welcoming, alive with hope and a sign that Spring will bring warmth though that may still be a long way off.

A blackbird flies across the field in front of me from hedge to hedge, a constant two to three feet above the ground, on wings made to give effortless flight. It's feathers: formed to create strength out of the lightest of materials - quills full of air yet strong, almost weightless; for flight and insulation. Their design and construction has evolved with air in mind. The blackbird's flight is a movement through the unseen, it enables so much and is vital for survival, feeding, reproduction and escape from predators.

In a hedge a little way away, a large holly bush stands. Its glossy leaves reflecting light from the sun in the sky behind it: glistening spots of white when caught in the breeze - a mass of twinkling, almost like fairy lights on a Christmas tree.

The sky is clear with some hazy cirrus (?) clouds way up high and some smaller faint whisps of white passing hurridly just above me.

I am in a sheltered place with only the gentleness of a light breeze to move the fallen winter leaves and blades of grass a little. Without their leaves, the hedges are transparent to the wind. The dense evergreen of the nearby hollies provide a welcome wind-break.

The air is wonderfully refreshing to breath in. It carries the scent of the damp earth and the winter vegetation. Because of the form of the landscape in my corner of this field with the trees, hedges and gentle undulating fields, the wind circulates around me - one moment on my left cheek, then on my right. Then all is still but another moment brings another change in direction to my face.

The sun and the wind will probably dry the landscape a little today if it stays like this.

Sounds are carried through the air to me. Distant cars, aeroplanes coming into the airport and those way up high, unseen birds behind me, the wind in the trees and the passing of five noisy motorbikes on the nearby bridleway. I am brought the smell of their exhaust too.

The air has no real tangible visible form, yet it affects all the objects in the landscape. It is like an omnipresence that can only be shown to exist by the reactions it has with other things.

Newly formed molehills are scattered around the field nearby. How do they relate to the air? The are made by a mole that breathes air. The tunnels so formed are full of air. The soil itself contains organic matter, either living or dead - leaves, grasses and perhaps even the woodland that may have once stood here centuries ago. Soil organisms break down the organic matter, some by aerobic methods. The texture of the soil depends on the air spaces between the soil particles. The soil upturned is aerated by the mole and now it is exposed to the wind to dry out.

A group of birds, assorted tits probably, is nearby. They make their presence known though calling and by movement.

Where the trees and hedges cast shadows in the sunlight there will be patches of cooler air. Different microclimates, not just around different parts of the field but also deep in the hedgerow. The air is affected by the temperature and humidity around it.

I give thanks to the place and I move on. I've got too cold sitting and writing.

Deer and a Hare
I am now in a patch of conifer plantation and surrounded by tall Scots Pines. I sit back against one of the tall bare trunks that just give life to the top canopy layer far above me. What can I learn from this place that is so different to where I was previously? At first I sense nothing new (apart from remembering that woods can be dangerous places in the wind). Inspire me please...

Out of the dark depths of the wood, three stags and two does walk towards me. I just catch sight of them as they appear out of the darkness into the dappled sunlight - their bodies and huge antlers bathed in a creamy light. Their shapes blending with those of the trees and branches of the woodland. They are about 20 yards away and, with the sun in their eyes, they probably don't seem me until I am startled by their appearance and turn my head to look at them. They pass behind me and run off into the distant trees.

Air. Deer. Silent. Unseen. Freedom. Running. Wind. Wild. Like a gust of wind appearing out of nowhere: present, then gone.

And then I see a hare. Again, only a short distance way. I almost thought it was a small muntjac deer at first. Grey, tall black-tipped ears, moving in and out of the shadows between the trees. Gently and quietly. Then it's gone.

I have to go. Have to be somewhere.

Drums
I'm in a tipi with my drum, with others, gathered around the open fire. The air is filled with herb and wood smoke, and the respect we show to each other and to the drums we hold. I remember the deer I saw earlier today. My drum skin belonged to a Red Deer, once running wild through the air. Freedom. We drum. Creating a sound, vibrations and resonances that fill the air. The deer is alive again in the air around us.

Connections.

We just have to be aware of them.

Thank you for this day.

Return to Painting

I've just painted a picture - at last! For many months I have been wanting to try out a particular style of illustration and get back into my own personal painting. A week or so ago I outlined this picture whilst waiting for some friends in a pub and I at last sat down today to paint it. I was inspired by my drum making day in December. We actually had some warm sunshine in a sheltered part of the garden this morning and I did some of the final pencil outlining onto watercolour paper whilst sitting outside. The painting was then completed indoors with inks where the light was more consistent.

Drum Making

It has been a strange autumn for me, and one that makes me feel as though I have lost my way rather too much. What with having been very busy at work, having had several nasty cold bugs, having the feeling that I've been lacking any useful creative stimulation and also the feeling of being on a bit of an emotional low, I have felt quite miserable! I am sure the lack of daylight, fresh air and decent exercise hasn't helped. I am determined to pull out of it and I am looking forward to a break over Christmas in just over a week. As I am sure I keep on saying, trying to be a spiritual and balanced person is actually hard work. If I don't apply mental energy to it then I just drift off into nothingness!

Drum Making
Last weekend I, and around 20 other people, attended a Drum making day with the Dartmoor musicians Carolyn Hillyer and Nigel Shaw in Hitchin. I had always wanted to do something like this and it was a special treat to myself.

We started off with a 16" diameter circular frame of laminated wood which we sanded down and added some wood stain and a small painted icon/image of our choice on the inside edge. A smaller metal ring was wound with black cloth and then attached to the inside of the frame. The skins we were using were from Red Deer and had been soaked in water prior to our using them. The circular piece of skin was hole punched round the edge and then the wooden ring laid on top. The skin was then pulled round over the frame and strung to the metal ring with a long piece of thin skin. This was progressively tightened until the right tension for the drum reached. A handle was finally added to the metal ring at the back of the drum. In the photo you can see that I have the inner ring a little off centre, but it doesn't matter. I'll know how to get it right if I ever make another. A beater was made with a hazel stick, on the end of which was tied a piece of chamois leather stuffed with wool.

I have no real idea how and when I shall use it, but it was a great thing to make. It took almost all day to make and I really enjoyed the experience. Nigel and Carolyn gave a concert in the evening which made a great end to the day.

The drum has now been sitting at home for a week and has dried out well. I am amazed at the quality and beauty of the sound that I can get out of it. Even just playing it with a gentle tapping with the drum held close to the ear reveals different tones and harmonics over different parts of the drum.

New Places

We are all searching for new places. New places to inspire us. New places that take us away from the sameness that can bind our lives. Places that may not always be physical. We humans have the capacity to explore, to search, to create - to change the place where we find ourselves. Whether that is by changing the physical, social, psychological or spiritual world in which our souls inhabit. Other life forms on this earth probably don't share such a capacity for initiating change in the way that we can perceive - or at least not on our 'immediate' timescale. When did you last see the trees in a local park get up and walk down to the local pub to have a chat? Or the stones in a road get up and decide they have had enough of being driven over by cars? Our culture is saturated with the expectations that we can change our lives, to better it, to move to a higher level of satisfaction, awareness, and fulfillment.

I see this in myself. I often feel un-stimulated and often need some creative energy to lift me out of a state of complacency or frustration at nothing happening in my life (when actually so much is happening - it is just I get numbed by routines). I have talked before about all the things that I would like to do and all I can do is chip away a them bit by bit, little by little.

A few weeks ago I was watching Chris Puleston and his drum circle in Hitchin and it was just one of those memorable occasions when you get captivated by colour, sound and energy. It was a new place for me. A place to experience the unknown, the unexpected, the senses and intense creativity. But then likewise my blog entry Waterfall in the Trees was an equivalent experience. Both were very different, yet similar and unexpected. From both experiences I came away wanting to do something. For one it was to write a poem, for the other it was to make my own shirts!

I think I like to be in new places of creativity. It could be at a music concert, it could be at an art gallery, it could be in a field, it could be in a cafe. A cafe? A field? Cafes or some other eating places are great places to just sit, think, draw, write or observe. I can find them hugely creative places, depending on the circumstances that is. You are sort of isolated in your own little world of your own table and coffee cup but yet surrounded by a continually changing environment of people and sound that isn't usually intrusive (unless you get someone joining you at your table!).

Fields, or indeed almost any outdoor more nauturalised areas, are full of the creative energy of Creation. That is why I enjoy walking and cycling so much. Every field, hedgerow, tree, ditch, overgrown corner, bridleway, fence post or woodland is a place of constant inspiration and a place to watch and observe, to touch and smell, to listen and think, to imagine and create. Despite the fact that a high percentage of the environment around me is man-made or man-managed, I know that the creative force of nature takes hold of any place, even if it be the most microscopic green algae on a tree or an ant crossing a road.

Next week I am going to the Resurgence Readers Camp and looking forward to being in a new place. A place of meeting new people, sharing new ideas, experiencing new food, doing new things and looking for new ways to view the world. Sometimes stepping out into the new can be hard, sometimes it is easy - I've talked about adventure and passion in a recent blog. I am little bit apprehensive but I am looking forward to being amongst some 'alternative' creative people for once.

Making Music

For a long time I have been wanting to do a bit of drumming, but have never searched out a way to realise this desire. I've often looked at small drum thingys in fairtrade/alternative shops or at festivals but have never played any. The lack of a private, soundproofed room has put me off. Anyway the following happened yesterday whilst on a walk to Hitchin...

The hedgerows are full of the scent of elderflowers honeysuckle, bracken and wild roses. After all the rain recently, the present warmth is a welcome relief. I am walkling along a bridleway and snap a couple of overhanging dead twigs from a branch. This to me was just an almost intuitive action to seeing a sharp branch that could hurt a passing horse rider or cyclist if they fail to spot it. I am now holding two sticks, the longest only being about 12 inches. The desire to see what sound they make when I hit them together is too great an opportunity to pass by. Tap, tap. Just the sound of one sick hitting another. Plain and simple. But somehow on this spring day, the sound seems to belong in the landscape. It is a purely natural sound, like the tapping sound a woodpecker on an old tree would make. I tap out some rhythms as I walk along and I listen to the sound of wood on wood. I could make different sounds by hitting or holding the sticks differently. Simple sounds, yet beautiful sounds in the time and place where I walked. They belonged with me on this sunny warm day, amongst the trees, the hedges, the elderflowers and the honeysuckle. Perhaps this was how our ancestors created their first drum beats. I could have been the leader of a procession. I could have been a pilgrim, on a journey of meditation through the landscape. Later, I try different larger sticks and I am drawn into the music held within their being. It was indeed a act of meditation. To play, to create, to listen, to feel a part of something - it was my own small time of discovery, of enjoying the presence of simple music in Nature.