Category Archives: Reflection Room
I have spent my days at the Abbey sitting in the orchard with books I have borrowed from the vast library, sharing apples with Tinker and feeling at peace with the world. This is such a beautiful place. A stream runs through the orchard, where I bathe my feet and dip my hands and watch the minnows darting around my fingers.
I have been rereading Arthurian legends, and I also found a couple of books about runes. Runes are fascinating. I like to make my own out of pebbles, clay, crystals – something in these ancient symbols is so mysterious and bewitching.
My favourite is Raido, which means Wagon, and to Ride, and is a general symbol for travel. If I add Raido (R) to my own name, it becomes Grail, and I am indeed a questing soul.
The cup I seek is the Cup of Creativity. Is this the true Grail, from which all things flow, the Cup which holds the secrets of creativity for all who dare to drink from it?
The runic equivalent of G is Gebo, the Gift – the Grail is the Gift, for those who seek it, your own unique gift, for we all have one. To seek the Grail is to seek your gift, your true self. The runic symbol for Gebo is a cross – a kiss, a symbol of faith? The Holy Palmer’s Kiss was exchanged between souls who knew each other as they passed.
A is Ansuz, which means God, Creativity – so as I seek my Gift, as I travel in quest of the Grail, I am seeking God – the wellspring of creative fire.
I is Isa, Ice, a cold little rune frozen in time. Isa is said to be derived from the Germanic word Isan, meaning iron – but it is also the Muslim equivalent of Jesus, and is believed to be the name of a Finnish Goddess. Wherever it came from, in the runic alphabet it means alone, standing still, frozen in time. Sometimes that is just how I feel. I know my quest is often lonely, and I have often felt cold and frightened.
But finally there is L, Laguz, water, flow, the endless flow of creativity, running like water over rocks, flowing like rivers to the boundless ocean…
So when I feel alone I go back to the source, as I have come back to the Abbey. I drink deep of the waters, feel refreshment running through my tired body and mind, listen to the voices of my companions rippling like water over river stones, and know that I am not alone anymore on my quest. As the minnows gather around my hands, I remember that others have gathered here as well, seeking the Grail, as I have done.
In my cupped hand, the water sparkles…perhaps I had the Grail all along.
So, I might as well start right now, and start as close to the beginning as I can. I can’t share my first deck, they were lost in an unfortunate swimming pool incident.
After their untimely death, my grandmother gave me a deck for Christmas, with three different books on their meanings. It was the classic Rider-Waite deck.
Everything begins at the beginning, and the beginning in a Tarot deck is the Fool.
The first card of the Major Arcana, which represent milestones in your life, positive and seemingly negative.
I’ve come to the Abbey
Looking for some quiet
Looking for some peace
Away from the thoughts galloping through my head
I hate writing. I don’t enjoy it. Don’t enjoy the process. One story I wrote was so hilarious it even made me laugh and I didn’t mind writing that too much because it’s so funny when you crack yourself up but as a rule I frequently loathe writing. Sometimes I write poems and that’s probably because I’m depressed so it’s really better if I never write poems except I would maybe never write a poem again but that’s no loss to humanity because most of my poems are just garbage. I can’t draw or paint but I love to mess with all that stuff on the computer that lets me make a painting because I can’t draw or paint. I would so like to paint something really stunning and look at it and think I just painted that but it’s not going to happen because I only know the basics. I can’t sew or make my own clothes and my concentration is so bad I can’t read books, any books, even though I love to lose myself in a really good book. So, there you go. A few minutes of uninterrupted thinking where I haven’t bothered to correct the punctuation or even use it and of course the sentence structure is all over the place, there is none, but hey it never stopped James Joyce so who am I to give a frig if the pedant in me will read this later and scream, perhaps it’s time I let myself go and stopped being so controlling.
I wrote a missive to the Rookery in the early hours of the morning or more accurately the hour before dawn and I didn’t loathe writing that but I didn’t have to worry about what came next or if it passed some invisible test on the scale of good writing. It was me expressing some views without trying to offend or appease and once I got started I was on a roll so I kept going.
Then I thought that I felt stressed out so I wondered what I could do to stop me feeling stressed out and I remembered that once I was in the Lemurian Abbey and I came across a poem that was written by one of the older members of Lemuria and she had written this great soothing poem and she was in the summer house or some place like that and I stumbled on it and when I read it I was very calm and imagined us both there in the warmth and the sunshine just sitting and chilling and maybe she would tell me some stuff about life or her life or wasn’t it nice to be in Lemurian Abbey in the warmth and the bright sunshine and the perfume wafting through from the garden and if I would stay a while and shut up and be quiet in my head perhaps I would begin to learn for myself what to love and what to leave and how to shove the angst to one side because angst is not what you should hang on to in the summer house in the Lemurian Abbey. So that was a nice time and a nice memory but I couldn’t find that poem but it didn’t matter a damn because I looked at the garden and saw what people had done there and let my fingertips stroke the velvet petals of a huge peachy orange rose and I couldn’t believe that I was allowed to soak up so much beauty in one go and guess what if you want you can travel back in time to last autumn or last summer and find the fallen rose petals are turned in to a mosaic like impressionist painting but then you don’t do that academic stuff and start thinking about art movements because just down the way there are red autumn roses and signs that the birds will come and eat things off the trees like bright berries bright red berries that even sounds nice doesn’t it bright red berries no wonder the birds see them and want to eat them and holly bushes look so great in the snow and deck the halls with boughs of holly because if the words sound good you can be sure the real thing will look good and if it doesn’t then that’s just a big con or maybe there are no pros or cons just a bunch of nice things and wouldn’t it be great if we or me that’s I stopped comparing and looked at stuff and thought well that’s just gorgeous not better than or worse than but just gorgeous for being itself and all the flowers and shrubs and trees do that they be themselves and you don’t hear an oak tree say to a conifer hey don’t think you’re the best just because you’re an evergreen and grow cones because I’m a big old oak tree and you should have seen the show I put on for them in this Abbey this autumn I was so glorious and lemon lime orange red I was a piece of art to make a soul sing and I looked like an impressionist painting and I’ll be back in spring all greening up and budding and in the summer I am awesome and shady and did you notice my trunk is about two yards wider than your pathetic stick trunk and I’ve got gnarled bark all old and weather beaten because I’ve been here for centuries and mighty oaks from little acorns grow okay pal so you chew on that and the conifer says hey oak I never once thought we were having a best tree competition so get over yourself I’m a conifer and you’re a big old oak and I love all that funky oakiness that you do and the oak said no kidding you think I’m funky and the conifer says absolutely you’re always changing and anyway you don’t have to butt heads with me because you can be yourself and stand tall and proud and think to yourself I am a big old oak and I respect myself and I could say why I’m a slim tall conifer and I respect myself but in future I’ll tell you hey your leaves are gorgeous and you can say thanks I love your cones they’re really eye catching so here’s the deal you be you and I’ll be me and we’ll enjoy each other because we’re different. And just think if they said let’s shake on it cause that would be a heck of a lot of leaves and twigs and stuff in a big pile and anyway can you imagine a big old oak and a stripling conifer shaking on it they would look so funny or maybe they’d just be swaying in the breeze and none of us would know any different if we were chilling out for a spell in the Lemurian Abbey garden where the roses grow red and peachy and the nice old lady sits in the summer house and writes her gentle poems.
My friend when you are ill
I miss your words
your words of hope and heart and hand
May all go well for you
and for the lady Em who holds your heart. Fran, Cronelogical.
I love the many women in my lover’s life:
The mother ,who birthed and left him too early, for her gentle genes
The stepmother who loved another’s child as if he were her birthed one
All those merry young aunts who played with him and sang
sang for the child, cuddled him often for their sister’s sake
His grandmother who knew my songs, music hall ditties
naughty bits made for gentle laughter
the girl who loved and left him
and the wife he married who stayed the course
This man who came so late
expecting only the one thing I could give
my love, dear love and touched me
Scoff mock jeer jibe we tempt the great life force
Taunt the ice flow moving from the north
Ridicule the past, look to the world as if it were all ours
Our hours so few
Our green and dancing spring is gone
We earn no laurel crown
I was at a threshold
That held me captive for a long time
I gathered the courage from somewhere
To take the first step into the unknowable (for how can we really know what will happen?)
Maybe I knew that there would be support from somewhere
But I was still scared
Oh what relief and joy to know I have it in me
To move beyond fear
To love life enough to try
To grow into more of the person I am striving to be
Thanks to all those people in the world who have kind thoughts towards me
Who support me in any way
The hurdle was small in reality
But it is a huge battle I have won
|This came from the prayer wheel that Heather posted, and I think it is nice here:
I would be true, for there are those who trust me;
I would be friend of all–the foe, the friendless;
I would be faithful through each passing moment;
|i would be true – howard arnold walter – 1906|
My back is pressed against one of the many solid stone walls of the Abbey
My heart is beating fast because I’m afraid
There is unchartered territory that I have to explore
But my feet are rooted to the spot
Having the solidness at my back is slightly comforting
But I can’t stay like this forever
I must go on or I cannot grow
And if I don’t grow, I’ll be so unhappy
I need to find the courage from somewhere
But I’m not sure where
I know it cannot come from outside me
So that means it must come from inside me
Maybe I need to meditate right now
Maybe I need to pray
Maybe I just need to be quiet and listen
But I need to find it within myself to take that first step
The wall at my back vibrates in response
As the Abbey itself tries to help me on my quest