Throughout the march days there is a continuing taste of spring in the air, yellow and white flowers decorate the hedgerows of this land as the sun is developing his warmth and the days become much longer.
There is a mist that hangs in the evening air, a silken veil that partially conceals the splendor of the heavens this night, brief glimpses of the stars can be caught by the patient eye and a silver glow of the maiden moon, horns sharp as knives when the clouds part to pay honour to her divine brilliance.
Geese fly to and from the coast, the heavy beat of the wings and gentle call often audible if not always visible in the Cornish mist, soon many of those same travellers shall depart our land for other climates and with this sad departure the Wild Hunt shall take its leave once more.
The dark contemplations of the winter are coming to an end, time is ripe for action, to pursue our intents and continue on, the lengthening daylight hours give rise to many distractions as we all poke our heads from that blanket of chthonic security, this one is again facing too many and wishes somewhat to crawl back to that safety, however, life must go on and the tools are there to deal with it all, the worry comes only from a gift squandered and an abuse of those tools ( the gift of love proves most valuable at this time and is a powerful armour).
Remarkable that the defensive bubbles we draw around ourselves act as a kind of beacon to those of kith and kin, the dearest among family and friends will be alerted by this action, as if to submerge into the depths is in fact to climb a high mountain and light a flare to alert those people to your plight, again this brings strength when patience is stretched and there is no longer enough time in the world to chase dreams.
Times are fair here in the home of the cunning man, yet pettiness continues to blight all our lives , still, we cope well, even when that means pulling ourselves back together more often than we otherwise would like. My spirit likes to wander, to spread itself out beyond the confines of its skin, exploring the world around me, soaking up the energies of spirit and place, it likes not the vile abusive nature of the ignorant so I find that I have to reel it in when it would be free, it is unfortunate that work commitment does not allow the time to let this being run wild at present, yet we must make hay while the sun shines or at least until I feel the lines about to break.
I always fancied the life of a monk after all, the clothes were not to my fancy or the haircuts for that matter, and the Jesus thing, not really appropriate but I could adapt, the rest however would be great but only if I could still return home at evenings and weekends to be with family, "A Part Time Monk" as my eldest pointed out to me from beneath a wry grin.
So no ecclesiastical life for me, at least until the point some of us set an Abbey or some such, The Abby of the pale faced goddess, home of gnostic thought and Witchcraft.
Soon there will be visitors to welcome and trips to make, freedom for the body and soul well deserved I think, some time away from the daily grind among the best company, if this year brings as much fruit as the last I shall not be a hungry man for wanting.
Flags,Flax and Fodder. Brother Tony.
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