“Why did you create humanity?” Asked the spirit who had been many things. “They are crude and thoughtless. They trample the Earth with no regard for its other inhabitants. They believe themselves to be superior to all things, including you. They create their own destruction over and over again.”

The Creator of All the Universe, who was all that had come before and all that would be after, smiled and said, “Humanity came out of the darkest recesses of our minds. They are the deepest, most terrifying fears we have and our only hope for the future. They behave like unruly children because they are the newest of our inhabitants.”

“Why do you let them behave that way?” Whined the spirit who had been many things. “They kill without regard to food or need, they take whatever they want, whenever they want from whoever gets in their way. They hurt each other needlessly, claim to love when they are full of hate and deceit, and they put more effort into cruelty than they ever do into kindness. They continually work to undermine themselves and each other, and their system of “justice” is so barbaric it puts the behavior many of animals to shame.”

“Humans do not understand their own interconnectedness with all things, as you did not when you were incarnate,” Said the Creator of All the Universe. “Their vision is limited by what they can see and touch. They have forgotten how to sense and feel. When they remember these all important skills, as some are beginning to, you will see change.”

“And why is it, out of the horror that they are, sometimes you see acts of such nobility and grace, of such gentle tenderness as to make your heart split in two?” Asked the spirit who had been many things.

“The Creator of All the Universe, who had always been and would always be. Who had seen many lives pass and who held the memories of everything whispered, “Because even in the darkest of places, there is always a pinpoint of light.”

posted by Tanya Brody
Tags: Divine, Fiction, rambling, Religion, Spirit, Spirituality, Storytelling, Universe, Writer
Filed under: Fiction, Ramblings, Religion, Spirituality, Storytelling

This is another post where if you don’t believe in, aren’t interested in or are offended by spirituality, reincarnation, past life memories, Paganism, alternative religions, ancient beliefs or any other thing having to do with Earth Magick, please don’t read any further. You won’t like this post. Please go on past these two to the following one or wait for the next post. If you are fine with these things, please read on. FYI, any negative comments will most likely be deleted as I warned you well in advance, so if you are offended, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I’m not sure why I waited to write this post until the end, I just know that it was more appropriate to write a travel type post my first day out than to write a spiritually based one. As I mentioned in the last post, this entire trip has ended up being a spiritual journey for me. It’s what I set out on and I am pleased to say I found what I was looking for, in some very weird ways.

When I arrived at White Horse Hill, I could already feel the ground firmly beneath my feet. I know this sounds like a strange statement, but what it means to me is that there was a pulse to the earth’s energy. It’s hard to explain, but I feel it in areas where there are structures of great power. These structures take many different forms, they can literally be anything from a theater or art studio, to a Renaissance Festival, to a well attended religious institution of any denomination, to a thriving corporation. Anywhere energy is being put to use (and I mean human intent, not electricity) I feel these pulses. They feel different, depending on the intent of the energy being created. White Horse Hill’s pulse was another kind of energy. It was earth based and the intent was much older. To me, this means ley lines.

Ley lines are channels of energy running through the earth. They connect at different points and form nodes of power. These usually end up being sacred sites of one form or another, whether they are ancient ruins or end up having centuries of worship occurring on the site, including modern times. White Horse Hill is one of these sites. I could feel the ley lines connecting right under the White Horse herself, and she is the node. I believe this is the main reason she was carved into the earth. I know most archeologists say that she was most likely put there as a border marker, and that may also be true, but she doesn’t divide. She holds things together.

When I sat down at the head of the White Horse, she spoke to me. I was welcomed back by her as an old friend and as the High Priestess who had been responsible for her being carved into the earth. She is a physical representation of the Earth Mother and the Mother’s power still holds there and speaks to those of us who know how to listen. So I had my first moment of “been here before” on this trip. I recognized and remembered what I had done. Not actual events, but the purpose and the creation. I even remembered that people who are with me in this lifetime were part of my life, and part of her creation, back then.

The White Horse's Head

I know that as a fiction reader, I hear the individual voices of characters when I read. Listening to the voice of the Goddess of the White Horse was like listening to a very friendly English woman. She had a slight country accent and a lovely, lilting voice. I expect that the divine occurs to everyone differently because everyone has different interpretations of the divine. This was how she appeared to me. Her representation was the big chalk drawing and her body was the hill I sat on. Her voice was what gave her a specific character.

I wish I could express the joy and contentment that being there on the side of that hill gave me. Unfortunately, words just don’t encompass feelings very well. I sat on the side of White Horse Hill, with people and sheep wandering all around me, and enjoyed the feeling of home, even if it hadn’t been home for millennia.

I knew that part of my purpose in taking this walk was to connect with the energies of both Mother and Father, Goddess and God, Lady and Lord. I found the God energy at Wayland’s Smithy, where I remembered that my body had been buried at the end of that lifetime in the original barrow there. Speaking with Wayland felt like speaking with all of the animal energies that had ever passed by this place. Not feral, not even wild, just rich and full of life and purpose. The small amount of magic that I had come to do on this trip was started at Wayland’s Smithy, where I left a list of things that I walk away from in my life. It seemed apt to leave these things in a place of death, so they could die and be reabsorbed into the earth, allowing their energies to recycle and create something new and beautiful. Wayland took these things and pulled them down into the earth, allowing me to be free of them and to create a new and purposeful life for myself.

Entrance to Wayland's Smithy Long Barrow

I realize that I don’t see the world the way others see it, that I find the divine in unusual places. However, it is important to look for the divine in the every day and in the unusual. Otherwise, how will we recognize it in each other?

I don’t know how frequent my blog posts will be now, though I will keep them up. I expect they will be on a much larger variety of subjects than just travel and spirituality. I hope you continue to enjoy my ramblings.

Thanks,

Tanya

posted by Tanya Brody
Tags: Spirituality, Spring, travel, Uffington White Horse, UK, walking
Filed under: Philosophy, Ramblings, Religion, Spirituality, Travel

Let me start out right here by saying if you don’t believe in, aren’t interested in or are offended by spirituality, reincarnation, past life memories, Paganism, alternative religions, ancient beliefs or any other thing having to do with Earth Magick, please don’t read any further. You won’t like this post. Go on to the next one. If you are fine with these things, please read on. FYI, any negative comments will most likely be deleted as I warned you well in advance, so if you are offended, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Yesterday at Avebury, this whole trip really, has been a profoundly magical experience for me. Walking the Ridgeway was not only beautiful, it felt like something I had done before many times. It felt a lot like coming home. Granted, there were sections that were part of major roads and sections that had been re-routed for various reasons, but it still felt very comfortable.

One of the wonderful things about Avebury is that you can walk right up to the stones, walk around the entire embankment (where they aren’t trying to prevent erosion or where there aren’t town buildings) and really experience the area. Unlike Stonehenge (which is roped off) this gives a much more intimate experience of the circles and the feel of the place.

As I walked the circle, I could feel the ley lines running through the earth, each in their own direction, pulling and pushing the world energies through to where they need to be. Avebury, Stonehenge and other similar places are all nodes of these ley lines, a place where lines cross to share or transmit along a different path. I have felt many of these places throughout the world and most of them are marked with stones. I expect it’s because stone is very good at holding the point of joining together. The first one I ever encountered sits at the top of Fool’s Knoll at the Minnesota Renaissance Festival and runs throughout Southern Minnesota in several directions. For the last few decades, the magic that the Festival creates has helped feed that node. Perhaps that is the reason I was drawn back to the West of the Twin Cities.

Avebury made me feel very old. Partially because I was hobbling around like a little old woman, but also because I had memories of being there as an old woman. There are four huge trees planted together in one of the quadrants of the stones. (I say quadrants because the area of the stones has been divided by two roadways crossing through the town.) These four trees have magnificent root systems that twine together and can be seen quite clearly above the earth. Some claim that J.R.R. Tolkien took inspiration from these trees and from this area for the Lord of the Rings books, and for the Hobbit. When I went to these trees, they spoke to me. I recognized them as saplings I had planted centuries ago when I was the old woman of my memory. I believe this was post building of the Stone Circles but definitely during a time they were still being used. The trees called me Sister, welcomed me home and told me they had missed me. I realized that I had missed them. I took lots of pictures so I could bring them with me this time.

People leave offerings at these sacred trees, mostly ribbons tied around the outer branches. I had come here to do some very personal magic. I knew this was the place to do it, as soon as I saw a postcard of these trees’ roots in one of the shops. I wrote my magic on a piece of paper and left it in a natural hole in the tree root system. The trees took it gladly and sent it up into the Universe and down into Mother Earth. I was thrilled at how I could feel the energy of my work moving through the trees and out to where it needed to be.

Roots of the Avebury Sacred Trees

Offerings for the Sacred Trees

A Skyward View from Inside the Sacred Trees

As I wandered through the stones, I stopped to touch some of them. Every time I did, I felt a profound rush of power, the stone’s gathered energy over the millennia since it had been put there. Some of the stones recognized me, and I recognized them. At some point, I had been a priestess in this area, serving the energy of the stones and the people who inhabited the land. It was amazing. Each stone had its own feel, its own tone and personality. Some of them even spoke. They were old, gravelly voices, as though of water rushing over pebbles or the very slow sounds of the earth moving.

As I mentioned in a previous post, one of the stones had a hole at just about eye level, where people had left coins. I left a penny, not for a wish, but as an offering to the stone. It was a speaking stone, and it welcomed me as Sister, told me it missed me and asked if I wanted to leave something. I pulled out my offering, stuck it in the hole and asked it to protect itself and its fellows, the trees and the land. To me, this felt like the right thing to do. I had already been granted what I came for, now I just wanted this place preserved. The National Trust does its best but I am aware there are always forces that want to destroy what has been created for Universal Good, no matter where you are or what you are doing. It’s just part of the normal cycle of things.

This whole area of Wiltshire is riddled with ancient barrows, standing stones and other sites. I could have spent my entire trip just wandering around this area, remembering things and feeling at home. It felt strange for me to feel so very rooted to an area with no large bodies of water. Yet everything felt familiar, comfortable and welcoming. It was as though the earth under my feet was singing my own song and the air I breathed gave me sustenance. I felt cherished and content.

I started on this journey looking for balance. I found that, as well as memories, knowledge and comfort. I found my Mother Earth and Father Sky again. I found myself and rooted my spirit there. For an entirely unplanned trip, this has been one of the best experiences of my life.

More tomorrow on similar experiences at Uffington’s White Horse.

posted by Tanya Brody
Tags: Avebury, Avebury Stone Circles, Ley Lines, rambling, Religion, Sacred Trees, Spirituality, Spring, travel, Trees, walking
Filed under: Philosophy, Ramblings, Religion, Spirituality, Travel

This post was written on Saturday, but it really should have been for Friday. I just ran out of energy and mobile phone power after arriving at my destination.

So today’s manifestation of the White Horse theme was that I came upon two or three fields full of white horses (the animal kind, not the chalk drawing kind.) Most of this happened as I left Chiseldon and headed down the wrong road, which was fine, if a little confusing. I love Google Maps, but it is easy to get turned around.

Once I got myself back on the Ridgeway, I found my morning sunny and pleasant. The funniest thing I saw was a Porsche Cayenne driving down the little tiny one-track road I was walking. Definitely not a good driving road, and even worse for someone who thinks they own a sports car. The Ridgeway is open to many different vehicles at different points. Here, it seems that cars are allowed, even though two trying to pass each other would mean one backing up for a half mile.

The Ridgeway ended up being fairly crowded today, as it is Good Friday and most people have the day off. The sun in the morning made everything quite glorious, if a bit warm in my big black oilskin coat, but still very enjoyable. There was more uphill and unfortunately I seem to have walked the skin off of one of my toes on my right foot. I put a plaster (bandage) on it this morning but it fell off several times and needed to be replaced frequently throughout the day. I spent much of my day hobbling.

Again, I love Google Maps, but I had a choice to make. The Ridgeway itself goes down to Ogbourne St. George. I wanted to go to Avebury, which necessitated taking a turn off of the Ridgeway and walking down an A-road (equivalent to a small highway or county road) with frequent traffic. Because of my foot, I decided that taking a bus was probably smartest and safest, so I rode from the Hackpen Hill White Horse to Avebury.

So yes, there was another White Horse on my trip. Wiltshire has an entire walking trail called the White Horse Trail. These horses actually look like horses (instead of stylized drawings) and were carved into their respective 8 hills during the 1700’s and 1800’s. The trail itself is about 80 miles long and parts of it intersect with the Ridgeway. That is a trail for another trip for me.

The White Horse at Hackpen Hill

Upon arriving in Avebury around 2:30, I found it teeming with humanity. Again, Good Friday gave people a day to do whatever they wanted if they didn’t work for a pub, hospital, or the National Trust. (At least in Avebury.) Realizing that I had made my goal much earlier than I had thought, and that with all of these people around I was unlikely to find a place to stay in town, I decided that I would do what I had come to do and then head back to East Grinstead. It would be much easier on my pained toe and on my pocket book.

Avebury Stone Circle, teeming with people

I wandered around the two museums the National Trust has to offer. They are well put together but don’t offer a great deal of insight as to the stones themselves, nor to the actual history of the area. There were many books I could have purchased, but as I was carrying everything on my back, I decided research would have to wait. The stones themselves are laid out in a huge circle that encompasses parts of the town of Avebury, with two smaller sets inside forming two smaller circles, side by side. A small concrete obelisk marks many of the missing stones because the stones themselves had been used for building material for the houses in town. I think it is a shame that they were hacked up, but at least they never really left the area. I can’t blame people for using what they found to hand for building materials, especially after proper use of the site had passed from human memory. The stones still remember, but they don’t speak to everyone.

An upward look at one of the Avebury Stones

The whole area felt very familiar and very old to me. There will be a second post on this, which you should only read if you like things about spirituality, reincarnation, past life memories and such. Otherwise you’ll find it a bunch of gobblety-gook. Consider yourselves forewarned.

The afternoon got cloudy and cooler, so I sort of slowed down with it, especially hobbling along as I did. However it was very pleasant to stroll among these huge stones and walk their deosil (clockwise) path. It’s funny to watch people who have no idea of what they’re seeing interact with their environment. Parents and children chased each other around the stones, dogs got VERY excited about all the people they were surrounded by, Cadbury had a tent painting faces and playing games because of the Easter holiday, and lots of people would just walk up to a stone, put their hand on it and probably feel something, but not know what it was. My favorite sight of the afternoon was the two blokes I saw walking along one of the outer embankments (The stones are surrounded by large embankments, at least where there is no town) with pints of beer in hand from the local pub. Happily chatting away and not really paying much attention to their surroundings, embodying quintessential English life.

One of the quadrants has four huge trees; planted fairly close together with the most BEAUTIFUL roots all twining together, very exposed and very sacred. I could feel the power in the place, and even heard several people remark upon this being a sacred place. Ribbons were tied in the tree branches as offerings, one or two even had a wish list attached. I have put some pictures of the trees below. They are just stunning, and very old. Again, they felt very familiar. More on that in the other post.

Four sacred trees at Avebury

I walked up to several of the stones and put my hands on them. I expect that I at least understood what I was feeling, even though most there didn’t. This place hasn’t been used regularly as a ritual ground for centuries, even though I believe there are pagan groups that practice there today. However the power still radiates through the earth, the ley lines still vibrate with energy and the stones still serve their purpose as markers and as batteries.

One of the stones had a very distinct hole in it, with several pennies inside. I left a penny as well, as an offering to the power of the stones. I figure they too need all the help they can get, especially with some of their brethren removed from the original system.

After a lovely supper at the Red Lion Pub, I hopped a bus back to Swindon, where I caught the train; Tube and train back to East Grinstead. As much as I wanted to stay in the area and explore all of the other Neolithic ruins in the area, (there are several) I decided that should hold for another trip, when there were fewer people and I was not feeling footsore or concerned about time. Back in the comforts of “civilization,” I am hanging out at my sister’s house, with her parrot. I head back to the States on Monday.

Funny little Caravan at a farm on the Ridgeway

Two of the stones at Avebury

Signpost on the Ridgeway

Cows at a farm along the Ridgeway

posted by Tanya Brody
Tags: Avebury, Birding, Birds, Spirituality, Spring, Stone Circles, travel, Uffington White Horse, walking, White Horse
Filed under: Philosophy, Ramblings, Spirituality, Travel

I decided to walk to Avebury, because it’s only about 20 miles from Uffington. The Ridgeway runs pretty much all the way there and it just seemed like the thing to do.

Let me say that walking uphill is never my favorite thing. I’m not good at it. I get short of breath very easily so I have to stop a lot. As much as I enjoyed the downhill walk into Woolstone last night, starting the morning off with an uphill slog was a bit painful. Things evened out eventually and I had a lovely stroll across the countryside.

My calves complained much of the way, they’re not used to getting such a workout. I hope I can keep up the pace tomorrow to make it to my goal.

10 miles to Chiseldon today, enjoying lots of birds (no new ones), though o did see the Red Kite again this morning as I left, and saw a bunch of seagulls soaring over the fields, sheep with their lambs and even a pig farm with huge hairy pink and black and white pigs. The weather was grey and windy, but the landscape was lovely in every direction I looked.

I ended up in Chiseldon at The Patriots Arms, the local pub. Apparently I came on the right night because it was Jam Night here, with some really great local talent. I heard everything from Carl Orff’s Can Can played on the harmonica to some great singer-songwriter stuff played by a girl who can’t be much older than 16. Lots of American standards, a few folk tunes, some great guitar playing and even a poem. I sang Johnny Jump Up and Moondance.

I have heard from a few people now that the recession is hitting the pub life hard. Last night the Irish publican, Keith, and one of his mates who is a horse trainer said that a lot of it is because more immigrants are coming in who don’t drink, but send their money home instead. Tonight, Chris, the fellow in charge of the session told me that 16 pubs a week are closing in Britain, mostly due to 5 or 6 large companies taking them all over and making it difficult for the publicans to do their jobs properly. Either way, it’s sad to hear that such a standard institution over here may be slowly going the way of the Dodo.

Chris pointed out that part of the reason he does the session is to keep the pub culture alive, so that even if every other night is slow, one night a week, the place is packed and people are having a grand time, being social and enjoying the true universal language, music.

Among the many characters I met this evening, a few stand out. Jody, the American who grew up in California but spent his summers up on Loon Lake in Minnesota. He now works for the Royal Mail here, though I got the impression that he’d done other things before that. He was a Vietnam Vet and said that after the war he was treated so poorly, he was happy to leave. The two gentlemen who are both part of a world champion men’s choir, neither of whom got up to sing, and Mike, the fellow who lent me his guitar to play a few tunes. He’s also the one who played the Can Can on the harmonica.

It seems like a lot of people have a connection to the States over here. Family members who live Stateside, they themselves have visited or have relatives who have. It’s interesting. Jody commented that whenever he goes back, he has culture shock. I believe it.

I consider myself lucky to have stumbled upon such a group of people, and to have had something to share with them. I love being a musician. It means that no matter where I go, I can speak the local language, even if I don’t understand a word that’s being said.

posted by Tanya Brody
Tags: Birding, Chiseldon, The Patriot's Arms, The Ridgeway, twitchers, walking
Filed under: Music, Philosophy, Politics, Ramblings, Travel

I lucked out, both in my choice of B&B and in my travel day.

Colin and Liz the proprietors of the White Horse View B&B, where I stayed last night, are lovely people and very kind. Liz is a massage therapist, and knows a great deal about the White Horse and its surroundings. She gave me great advice on the sites to visit today. Colin was kind enough to give me a lift up to the car park at the beginning of the trailhead, allowing me to spend my entire day up here instead of having to walk from Shrivenham. The first thing I did was to go up to see the White Horse herself.

All the way up on my walk the skylarks were singing and darting around me. A few Buzzards circled the Manger, the area just below the White Horse, their barred wings easy to spot against the brown-green grass. White Horse Hill is pastureland and I found a herd of sheep at the top, just above the horse.

The horse herself is cut into the turf and “drawn” in chalk, meaning that is what makes her white. Chalk is the layer underneath the turf but I believe the National Trust goes to some trouble to preserve the chalk that makes up the White Horse. Andy, the NT ranger I met today said that every year they clean the Horse out and it is done mostly by volunteers from the community. It used to be a big festival, with the actual festivities taking place in Uffington Castle, a nearby fort which is now a turf wall and moat trench.

The White Horse is much smaller up close (by perspective). It was still a massive undertaking when it was created 3000 years ago but once you’re up close, it doesn’t take very long to walk around. The National Trust asks that you not walk on the chalk, to help preserve it. So I walked on the grass surrounding it. Legend has it that if you walk around the eye three times, clockwise, you get a wish. I made three wishes, Two for myself and one for humanity in general. I figure we need all the help we can get.

Just down the hill from the White Horse is Dragon Hill, a flat topped hill where St. George is told to have slain the Dragon. Legend says that the Dragon’s blood poisoned the earth and nothing has ever grown where his blood spilled. There is a big bare patch in the middle, so perhaps it is true.

As I walked back up the VERY steep hill from the place the Dragon was slain, the sun came out, spilling light onto the hillsides of the Manger, the glacial crevasse White Horse Hill sits a top. The chalk of the Horse’s body glowed white, making the surrounding grass look even more green. I sat near the Horse’s head and enjoyed the warmth and the view of the valley spread before me. Rural England in all her glory.

The White Horse, Uffington Castle and Wayland’s Smithy are all located on the Ridgeway, which is an ancient roadway that runs from Avebury Stone Circle to near London, about 87 miles. It is believed to have been one of the safest routes for travelers as they could easily see attack from wild animals as they walked. Today it is used primarily by walkers, bicyclists and horse riders, though there are places cars and ATVs can be driven along it.

I walked along the Ridgeway to Wayland’s Smithy, an ancient long barrow used for burial and dedicated to the God of Smithing, Wayland, who was said to appear to shoe a horse for payment of a silver coin. I left a silver coin, not to have a horse shod, but for some other magic of my own request. The barrow has a Cairn style entrance and three small chambers, one of which had a turnip in it. Whether that was left for the God or for a horse, I don’t know. It extends back about 300 yards as a green grass mound, surrounded by marker stones. When archeologists investigated it, they found that it was originally much smaller and located in the center of the mound, then expanded over time. The original burial site contained 16 bodies, 13 male, 2 female and 1 child.

The entire mound is surrounded by trees, isolating it from the fields nearby and the Ridgeway running past. It makes the area idyllic and very sacred.

All along the Ridgeway are hedges and trees, making it a great area for birding. I saw:

Great Tits
Chaffinches
House Swallows
Goldfinches
Blackbirds
Crows
Ravens
Jackdaws
Magpies

I also possibly saw Oyster Catchers, at least that’s what they might have been, according to my Twitcher app. It’s a great birding guide for UK birds. I highly recommend it. Anyway, the bird had black wings, back and head, with white body and wings underneath and it’s call was reminiscent of a guinea pig.

I reached my lodgings at the White Horse Pub in Woolstone (I am detecting a theme here) where I took a bit of time off of my feet before heading for Uffington Village. According to the village sign, it is only about 50 years old (at least, as a designated town.) I walked around the town, which is easy to do as it feels like a gigantic round about with houses on both the inside and outside of the roadway and roads leading off in different directions at various points. While walking, I saw a Red Kite hovering overhead, its forked tail very prominent against the grey sky.

I walked another 6-8 miles again today, taking plenty of time for pictures, birding and breathing. I believe I will walk the Ridgeway for the rest of my time out here, probably to Avebury to see the stone circles there. I am finding that this trip is just what I need, a chance to spend time reconnecting with the Earth and with myself, while enjoying the beautiful early spring here in Oxfordshire.

posted by Tanya Brody
Tags: Birding, rambling, Ridgeway, Spirituality, travel, twitcher, Uffington White Horse, walking
Filed under: Ramblings, Spirituality, Travel

After a very long and busy weekend, my sister is finally married to the love of her life. The wedding was beautiful, the reception was great, everyone had a fabulous time and I even got a lift in the fancy vintage Riley that was rented to deliver my sister to the church. I wish my sister and her new husband all the happiness and joy in the world. I hope the rest of their lives together are filled with adventure, fun and as little conflict and disappointment as possible.

Now that things have settled down a bit, I have decided to go on a ramble (also known as a walking tour.) I left my Sister’s house and headed for Swindon, via train. I arrived just before 4:00 and made it the 6.3 miles (11.6 kilometers) to Shrivenham where I am pleasantly installed at the White Horse View B&B for the night. I happened upon it as the sun went down ( thankfully, as it was starting to rain and I didn’t want to continue walking in the dark) and the proprietress had a lovely room available.

My walk from Swindon was very pleasant, even with the occasional light rain shower. I saw lots of rabbits, a couple of deer, several horses (who probably wondered what the heck that strange woman was doing, wandering through their pasture) and a lot of cars as I walked down several busy roads.

I am considering this a spiritual journey, as well as a holiday. I am hoping to reestablish the balance in my life and in my heart, beginning with this walk to reconnect with Mother Earth and all things she holds dear. My intent in walking, instead of driving or public transportation, is to ground myself and take in more of what surrounds me as I travel.

Tomorrow I head towards Uffington to see the famous White Horse on White Horse Hill. I’ve always wanted to visit, and I am looking forward to it. I do hope it doesn’t snow.

More tomorrow from Uffington.

posted by Tanya Brody
Tags: rambling, Shrivenham, Spirituality, travel, Uffington, Uffington White Horse, UK, walking
Filed under: Philosophy, Ramblings, Spirituality, Travel

Spent the last two days wandering around London, exploring, shopping, dealing with wedding plans, and enjoying the lovely weather here. Primroses, daffodils and crocuses are all in bloom. Magnolia trees are either budding or blooming and cherry trees are in their prime.

My sister works across the street from Ravenscourt Park. Mom and I spent some time over by the bird pond. We saw:

• Coots
• Grey heron
• Moorhens
• Canada geese
• Swans
• Mallards

Later in the day we went down to the Thames where we saw Egyptian geese.

Ravenscourt Park has large expanses of lawn for people and dogs to play on. Dogs were out romping, chasing balls and wandering around to be petted. We met a lovely greyhound over by the teahouse who was obviously waiting for a human inside the fenced yard.

Teenage boys on lunch break from school were out kicking a football (soccer ball) around in their nice slacks, ties and blazers. Teenage girls sat around on the grass and chatted, avoiding the ball when it bounced too near. People walked and rolled by. The popular thing for children over here is a push scooter with two wheels on the front, probably for stability. We saw many little ones on their push scooters. A particularly cute little girl with blonde ringlets and a cherubic face pushed hers along with her silver shoes and stuck her leg out very elegantly (for a 3 year old) as she rolled along under her own power.

We came across a fellow playing a Caisa, which is a different version of a Hang. The Hang is a Swiss take on the steel drum, made from oil drums, it is actually sort of flying saucer shaped and is made so that you hit certain areas to get certain notes, like the steel drum. However the Hang is convex and you hit it with your hands. The sound is much more soothing. The Hang is apparently now very difficult to get, as the makers are trying to perfect its sound and don’t want to produce anymore until they do, so this fellow was playing a Caisa, made by a different producer in Germany. Same idea, slightly different design. (I got the whole story of the Hang/Caisa thing from the fellow in the park.) The sound is really very lovely and soothing. My friends Jim Lewis and John Gladman, who showed it to me via YouTube videos, first introduced me to the Hang. This was the first time I had ever seen one played live.

London teems with humanity. I love the fact that they have left places that teem with nature here and there. Although England is fairly “managed” as far as ecology and planning, it seems to have preserved spots of natural beauty within the urban setting and allows urbanity out in the wilds of the countryside. Driving along the rural roads, it is not uncommon to come across an industrial park or warehouse in the middle of a string of houses. Nor is it uncommon to see a public green in the middle of high-rises and row houses. People have plants on their balconies, roofs are covered with trees and front gardens have trees with budding leaves, early spring flowers and roses are putting out their leaves as well.

I think we do better when we have some jungle in our urban, so as not to forget where we came from, and even a little industry in our wilds, to remind us where we are going. Balance in everything.

posted by Tanya Brody
Tags: Birding, Birds, Flowers, Humanity, Music, Musician, Nature, Parks, Rural, Spring, Urban
Filed under: Music, Philosophy, Ramblings

I decided that as I have time while I am on holiday, I should really start blogging again. This may be personal musings, it may be reports of things I see over here or it may be rants on various things that tend to tork me off. You know, just like everyone else’s blogs.

Being a professional writer means that because you spend all day writing, you’re sort of sick of it at the end of the day. I think much like the cobbler’s children having no shoes, I’ve stopped writing a blog because I write so much for other people, I don’t have time to do it for myself. For a few weeks here, perhaps that will change. So, here we go.

I went for a walk on the Worth Way walking path, which runs between East Grinstead and Crawley in West Sussex, UK. The weather was glorious today, sunshine, blue sky and moderately warm temperature. The ivy is what is green on most of the trees, but some of them have leaves already coming out. Daffodils are blooming everywhere, along with crocus and various other small wildflowers that I don’t know. The grass is green and the fields aren’t full of mud. 2 days after the Equinox, it seems that it really is spring here in the UK.

Birds I saw today:

• Lots of big fat woodpigeons
  • Long-tailed Tits
  • Great Tits (go ahead, snigger, you know you want to.)
  • Great Spotted Woodpecker
  • Goldfinch
  • Magpies
  • Crows

At least, those are all the ones I remember. I hope to see more tomorrow.

One of the many things I love about spring is the smell. That deep, earthy smell of things waking up from their winter slumber. It’s kind of like watching the ground stretch after a long nap as it prepares to get up and go about its business of growing things. You know that where there are brown patches now, in a couple of weeks it will be full of green growing things.

Another thing I love about spring is the variety of color. Especially after a long winter, it’s so lovely to see all the bright yellows and greens, all the beautiful pastels as flowers start to bloom. I even saw a rhododendron with bright red flowers as I walked along the high street.

Personally I am very glad that spring is here. Spring is a time of change and rebirth. I look forward to it on a great many levels.

To Spring; may she grow into a feisty Summer and an elegant, graceful Autumn.

posted by Tanya Brody
Tags: Birding, Birds, Holiday, Spring, UK, Writing
Filed under: Philosophy, Ramblings

Life in Cycles

According to the conspiracy theorists and people who follow the Mayan calendar, the world is coming to an end. December 21^st, 2012, that’s it. We’re done. Game over. Nobody thinks about the fact that the Mayan calendar is round. That life works in cycles. We have seasons of the year to define our yearly cycle. Who is to say that we’re not hitting the end of a cosmic cycle? That once everything ends on the Winter Solstice of 2012, life won’t just keep on going, as it always does, going fallow for it’s necessary period and then as the earth warms, stretching it’s respective limbs to the sky to feel the heat of the sun.

Hindu philosophy apparently has a theory that the world has its times of absolute brilliance and amazing development, and its times of stunted growth and lack of forward motion. These cycles take place over thousands of years and knowing exactly where we are in the over all process is impossible because we can only see where we’ve been, not where we’re going.

The modern world has been developing by leaps and bounds. On one hand, this is fabulous because it means that in many cases, people who were living what can be considered “hand to mouth” existences are now being given better opportunities. On the other hand, it means that more people want the use of our already limited resources. Is this the bottom of the cycle, or the top?

Personally, I feel that we are somewhere in the middle of heading from the bottom towards the top of the cycle. We have had several horrific wars, (are still embroiled in a few, world wide) and have learned a great deal from these experiences. We have made our own extinction not only possible, but for a while, immanent, and yet have managed to pull back from this brink, upon reflecting what a “bad idea” this would turn out to be. Many of us are looking to personal and universal enlightenment as a way forward. Personal on the level that we need to understand ourselves to help others, and universal in that we wish to help our fellow humans to be the best we can all possibly be. Our technology continues to progress every day and it seems that we regularly hear about new innovations in various sectors, all meant to better our lives.

Yet we are still stuck in a world that must rape the earth for resources that we just can’t quite let go of. We keep saying we want to find alternatives, yet we cannot persuade everyone that this is for the better and figure out how to create these resources in a constant, affordable and renewable set of processes. We still fight, we still promote hatred and fear in order to “get our own way” and we see that more and more, violence is a quick and dirty answer for all insurmountable problems.

We’re at a delicate tipping point on our Wheel of Fortune as it goes around and around. I would point to the amazing results of the People’s Revolution in Egypt, where, by standing their ground and making their voices hears, the citizens of a country brought down the regime they have lived under for 30 years and now have the responsibility of creating a better country and system for themselves. These people made a very important choice, and now they have to live with the consequences and the responsibility for themselves, both a freeing and a frightening prospect.

Our ride on this wheel will keep going forward, no matter what happens. The question becomes whether we keep falling off of the point which we are riding and drop backward, continually, or we hold on and ride the wheel to the top where we will find the prize ring to grab as we go by.

No matter what happens on December 21^st 2012, I think we need to remember that life travels in cycles, not in a straight line. What goes around, comes around again, and it is up to us whether we jump on and see where things go, living in love and hope, or become paranoid and fall backwards onto the same lessons over and over again, living in fear and anger.

Either way, I am looking forward to sunrise on December 22^nd, 2012, and many more to come after that.

posted by Tanya Brody
Tags: Brain, Cycles, End of the World, Mayan Calendar, Religion, Science, Stress, Sub-Culture, Sub-Genre, Unity
Filed under: Philosophy, Ramblings, Religion