Tuesday, 26 July 2011

The Crossroads, the cave and Elder wisdom.

There comes a time in everyone's journey when choices have to be made, along the crooked path of life we are often faced with decisions and dilemmas, forks within the road and crossroads after crossroads.
A time such as this is approaching within the threads and weave of this ones own life, I have climbed the tree and now to ponder which of the branches will ultimately serve my own purposes, which ones will take the strain, give me a foothold that is both steady and secure, which branches are strong enough to enable this seeker of the truth to ascend yet further into the mists of wisdom. The way forward is clearer now than ever before, a bright star illuminates the way, yet within its blinding light there are deeper shadows that in many ways are harder now to see.
All is well for the time being, change lurks below the horizon and I have the wit to see it coming. The path of this soul is solid and tangible, yet that which facilitates the voyage is uncertain, to live as a priest of the Arte would of course be the Ideal, but that time is not yet upon me, the concerns of the mundane world, of Flags, Flax and Fodder themselves are what would vex this one in times to come, Irons lie in fires and coin is quick to disappear, a difficult time fraught with uncertainty, in truth though, tis but a small cloud in what is turning out to be a most beautiful sky, Faith will secure the future and she will provide. She always does in the end, despite any concerns bought about by time relaxing and a corrupted view of the lives of others.

A few days away from the mill, among the blessed company of dearest family and the dark Serpentine of our most southerly reach, The swiftest of birds did accompany us all with whistle and grace on our exploration of this rugged coastal land, to secluded cove and rich heather moor, from high wind (not to mention rain) to magical caverns that stand with Majesty upon the grey shore, Green black rock veined as if it were the very flesh of the land on which we walk, these caves beckon to the traveller to enter and take joy in the mysteries within, to sing the song of the land, to join in tone and verse as we all become that which is the same through resonance, "you made the rock sing to you dad" were the words that sprung from the mouth of my youngest, as other visitors along the way smiled at this strange and unlikely occurance, need overtakes modesty at such times and that gift is gladly recieved.

The Rain did pour for a day, drumming its rhythm upon the tin shell that was our home for this time, yet from fair to foul and back to fair is the nature of this windswept land, so off across the fields I go, to encounter the Elder tree (pictured above) with arms outstretched to welcome me home, a specimen that bought sheer delight, old and wise was she that has stood for an age, far longer that the broken chapel that cast its shadow among her radiant leaves and growing fruit, although that too was a vision to behold.
Biting insects from flower to flesh, a grave yard long forgotten, reclaimed by nature yet standing as a monument to a simple faith that now lies forgotten, peace among the ivy clad stones that once held the celebrant's passion, those people from the past, those who once held this place sacred, now covered by thorn and grass, the words In loving memory" emblazoned on slate and stone, still none remember.

I am counseled in this place by one stone, the sound of my mentors voice echos with the engraved name, one forgotten lady who whispers advise into the Cunning man's ears,"Prudence", and there is the guiding light in an uncertain time.

Flags, Flax and Fodder. Tony.

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