An interesting Compliment?

An Interesting Compliment?

I've been meaning to do this for a few days, and finally got round to it.

Recently a close friend of mine gave me a very nice compliment (and not for the first time now that I think about it), about my writing, about how much she enjoyed it. I think she was referring to some of my more spiritual journey stuff, rather than my other general witterings (like this LOL!).  Of course, I was just pleased to know that anyone could be bothered to read them in the first place.

However, there is a good reason why I found this compliment particularly interesting. You see that I doubt that most of my teachers at school, or even my lecturers at horticulture college in my early adulthood, would ever of thought someone would say anything like that about my writing.

And why is that? I hear you all say. I hear you ALL say? Well, at least some of you thinking it! Well it is because as a child back in the 60s I was in what 'we', as in the ones in it, called the 'Dunces Class'. I then, not at all surprisingly, failed my 11+, so was designated to be one of the 'workers' rather than 'thinkers' or 'leaders', and was put back into a normal class; but languished near the bottom, due to my lack of English and Maths skills.  I left school with only Grade 3 C.S.E. or equivalent), Maths and English, and only got on an OND Horticulture course due to my O'Levels in Biology, History, Geography and Geology; subjects which I did quite well in because I was VERY interested in them, and I am sure that if I had had better English skills I would have excelled in them! (The Geology was an unusual one, done for the 1st time at our school, and at the time, even with my bad English I could probably have done an A-Level in it! Spot the dinosaur mad little boy! And I could of done just as well in History and Biology if it had been more about the things I was really into; like the English and American Civil Wars, or Birds and Butterflies!).

Now! One of the main things that held me back was my terrible handwriting, although teachers and lecturers, when they mentioned it, at least said that they could read it. Well they could read it when I put a big effort into trying to make it readable, but that took me a hell a lot of effort and concentration, and meant that I couldn't get everything I wanted to say down quickly, if at all. Of course, any of you that know me wont be surprised that I had trouble writing down EVERYTHING I wanted to say, as you will say that I never shut up! But that is because my mind is FULL of multi-dimensional, multi-subject thoughts, ALL at once! I often have cross subject thoughts that most with more linear minds find hard to follow, and converting my thoughts into a more linear format is one of the hardest things for me to do. (I am sure that a lot of you are already ahead of me in guessing what all this is leading to, but it is because I have to put it into a linear format that I HAVE to behave myself and suppress my omnipotence for you mere mortals! LOL!).

The other area of communication that caused me frustration was my artwork. I loved and still love it! Just creating. But at the time I would get so frustrated because I physically couldn't make what I wanted to express.  I wanted to do photo perfect fine art, but just couldn't do it. I would start off with doing too much micro-detail, but as my concentration tired, and my frustration grew, things would become sloppier and less detailed, and seldom finished.

It's not that I didn't try to improve myself by trying to improve my handwriting (I have always been better at self-education than classes). I would try to follow Calligraphy tutorials using dip pens and ink but again would eventually get frustrated and fail.

Strangely, I quite enjoyed doing pen and ink drawings, with ink washes, and it is something I really SHOULD explore again?

I also found that I did quite well when I did more free-flowing, less formal work; using powder paints in particular to make things like cresting waves and sea foam. In fact I still have one seascape I did that my art teacher really liked, and it is another thing that I have been meaning to go back to, but am now rather scared of failing at.  Perhaps it is time I did some art courses again that would make me do it? But now I am getting ahead of myself from the linear path I am supposed to try to stick to.

Actually, when thinking back, I am aware that there have been a few teachers and lecturers that have had a soft spot for me, perhaps seeing more in me than I knew, and/or maybe just feeling sorry for me? I certainly think the later for one of my Maths teachers, as that has never really improved! LOL! But that school art teacher was very good to spot something I WAS good at and to encourage me to follow that work. One of the pieces I did under his encouragement was a huge, I mean HUGE icescape that took up a whole wall in the 'school flat' (skills demonstration room of some kind) for a couple of years. It had been intended to be a larger version of the seascape I still have, in powder paint, but I was sloppy and impatient when applying the white emulsion under coat which resulted in loads of big dribbles. Both my teacher and I had the same idea when we saw it. They looked like giant icicles! So what I did was empathise them with coloured pencil, with a sunset theme viewed from within an ice cave and an ice-bound sailing ship in the middle. An early example of recognising serendipity, something I allow myself to recognise in my work these days but back then I probably wouldn't of know what serendipity meant.

But I digress. Not unusually for me!

So one of the big changes for me was when I went to university as a mature student in my late 20s. As I had suggested I had been declared at 11 as being too thick for university, and had only got into college because of the O'levels in English related subjects, and then into university because of my college qualification, but I never did any A-levels, which I am quite glad I didn't actually, as they do seem to be hard work! (How did you get into Durham? Many of my friends said that went to university at normal age, and me not knowing that it wasn't easy getting into Durham. Well at 18 via the conventional route that might be the case, but as a mature student, and particularly if a local student (which I wasn't), at that time it was relatively easy, as part of trying to get away from the 'Town and Gown' image problem the university had).  I still had my handwriting problems, but soon got my 1st pc, which had only just got cheap enough for me to do so. It was very new technology for most of us then. I still had to do my exams by hand, and much else, but the pc released me from my bad handwriting, and at last I was able to start developing my English skills.  The first part of this was the wonders of a spell checker (there weren't grammar checkers at that time). I discovered some of the simple words that I didn't know I was miss-spelling. How was I supposed to know that sujest actually had 2 gs and not a j? And there were new words to me too, due to not having had the same level of English as many of my co-students. New words like jonrah? What's a jonrah? Oh! It's spelt genre. But what is it? I was quite pleased to find that I was not the only one who didn't know! In fact I could appear to be more confident than the normal age students, as most of us mature students had a bit more life experience, and I wouldn't be shy about asking what something was, because I decided that if I didn't know there was a good chance others wouldn't either, but they were too shy to ask. What was actually one of the loveliest parts of doing the degree was seeing those shy 18 year old 1st years gradually gain confidence. So whereas in the 1st year us mature students tended to ask all the questions, gradually we took more of a back seat role as the younger students gradually started to ask the questions.

The next big stage in improving my English skills was while doing my PhD. By this stage there WERE grammar checkers, which I might not necessarily agree with, but it would make me think about whether I needed to improve the sentence/paragraph. And then came along those programs that looked at your work to highlight sentences that weren't necessary, or suggestions (note not sujestions!) as to sentences you could remove when trying to reduce the word count. Throw away asides like this. Notice how I learn't the difference between programme and program, in English English, as opposes to program and program in American English! LOL! But of course, I always tend to be too verbose with too many throw away asides. And Thesauruses too, but while writing my thesis the order of the the use of paragraph opening words (therefore, however, etc.) did become a bit formulaic as I checked the Thesaurus desperately trying to find something different; and now with these blogs, I really try to make an effort to not be too formulaic!

As part of and as a result of my PhD, I did get some articles published, but I doubt you would call them very enjoyable to read, as they were supposed to be archaeological reports, not exciting novels.

After I had finished my PhD. AFTER I had finished my PhD! I was at my Mum's looking through some old school reports from the time I had been in 'Dunces Class'. "Oh! It was Word-blindness." she tells me. What! WHAT! If I had known that 10 years earlier I could of had extra time in exams and AND more importantly free computers! 

So in my 40s I discovered it was dyslexia that I suffered from (no surprise to many of you that have been bothered to read this far). And, apparently, according to some of my friends I have Aspergers too, but in both cases, because I didn't know that I actually had a 'something', only that I struggled at some things, I had learn't ways to cope with my problems, as I had also had to do with my 'social' issues.  However, I think this was an advantage to me. In the long term! (I'm not really a short term type of guy). As I had to put the effort in to learn by trial and error and not just accept that I had a 'something' to use as an excuse not improving myself.

And, believe it or not (those that know me), I am a lot better person than I used to be, much better at communicating, and more importantly (believe it or not) listening to people; and that is the hardest thing for me to do with so much multi-dimensional stuff going on it my mind. I do try to put a thinking pause before saying things (believe it or not!), and desperately try to let procrastinators finish their rambling sentences before interrupting them (believe it or not!). Even though they are so so SO annoying with their intonation sounding like they have finished speaking at the end of every phrase! LOL!

Although there are two other factors I still haven't really mentioned that have had a major effect on my communication skills; my art and my community.

I wont go into how I became the Green Man Potter, and now Jewellery maker here, as they are standalone blogs in their own right, but after decades of most people not wanting to hear what I had to say, when I started my potting, my very un-neat and tidy, almost amateurish pottery (which I recognised as a mature person that that is what people liked about, as it was full of spontaneity and spirit), I suddenly found that people wanted to hear what I had to say about other things too, and many of those that had suppressed me, or I had worried about, were happy to listen, or at least tolerate me. They seemed to be happy for me to be in this new role, rather than the archaeologist that I spent years hitting my head against a middle class wall over. And generally others that had given me a hard time no longer did, mainly because they were no longer important to me, and they knew they no longer had any power over me (not that I still don't have some problems with some people in a similar way). In fact it must be a bit like when a gay person comes out of the closet and finds that they are accepted by those that really matter just as they really are.

And at the same time as becoming the Green Man artist I also turned more from an agnostic, more scientific appreciation of the landscape, towards seeing more of the spirituality of landscape; from  identification and classification, etc. of the historic and natural landscape, to 'feeling' more of the ancestral spirits and simple beauty of 'the place'. And so discovered the pagan community that on the whole has welcomed me with open arms, and I have found my place within a community at last, where I really matter! More of that, again, at some later point.

But for now I must get me tea sorted! <3


oh! And there is the music too! How could I forget that?

Spiritual Ponderings; particularly my accepting the spirituality of my work and my affinity with Merlin and the Green Man as the Wild Man of the Woods.

Spiritual Ponderings; particularly my accepting the spirituality of my work and my affinity with Merlin and the Green Man as the Wild Man of the Woods.

Cornelian Bay, Scarborough.

I should be doing regular blogs, but never seem to get round to it, but when I do it is normally because I have been pondering on something, or somethings for some time and have finally got round to writing it down.

One of the main problems I have is avoiding long rambles (which this may turn into!), and keeping to the point, but I find that everything is so intertwined with so much else, it is difficult to keep to one aspect.

Much of my spiritual philosophy can be seen from my other blogs, but there are a few things that have been simmering in my mind and my heart for sometime now that I don't quite know how to express.

One of the main things I have been making myself face up to in recent months is that there is something special about my simple work, a kind of magic that brings spiritual comfort to so many people. I saw this happen again and again with my pottery work when I was making it, right from the start, but the sceptic agnostic in me was loathe to accept it, and in more recent years I have had so many customers tell me again and again about how special they find my jewellery work; the great spirituality of it. And that is from so so so many people from literally right around the World. Although it could be argued that most of these people have never met me (which may be an advantage?). But it is also very flattering to me that so many people who have never met me should want my work, and have only seen it as a bad photograph, but once they get a piece of my work they adore it. 

Not that everyone see the magic in it, my work isn't everyone's 'cup of tea', not everyone, in fact most people, wont be attracted to my rather primitive and some would say amateurish style. But like me, I am not into the over ornate (generally). Honesty is far more important than anything else. Be yourself, not necessarily who people want you to be. I try to plough my own furrow, but when you are relying upon selling your work to pay the bills you can find yourself steering towards what more people want. Part of me just wants to do only the very primitive, asexual work, as most of it tends to be, as it is connected to the spiritual rather than the physical World. Not that the physical isn't important, and perhaps the 'feel' of my work is more important than the 'look'? The physical is as an important part of finding balance as the spiritual, as is finding the balance of the elements, as in all things. 

Yes! I would like to do more of the primitive, although when I have I have had a lot of praise, but few have sold. And occasionally I will do jewellery that is a bit more 'girly', but only within my own limits, which some still find too masculine, but at the same time there are men who are happy to wear it (is that because it is too masculine? But then again I am a man!).

Over the last few years I have been trying to find a way of combing my metalclay work with the beach pebbles I have been collecting and polishing in a spiritual, elemental, and I must admit commercial sense. I have been enjoying collecting them while out in the elements on the beach, and get quite meditative, relishing in the solitude of many of the beaches I collect them from. And luckily, most beaches can be more or less empty most of the time. And in fact, I hate it when strangers want to communicate with me while I am collecting (I have similar problems when I play my Medieval bagpipes outside. I don't mind having friends with me, that have come with me, but hate strangers being around). But I let the beauty of the individual pebble guide me as to which ones to collect, and there are so so many beautiful, far from perfect, pebbles in the World (just like people). Some just sing out to you. Some say "Hello! Look at me!" But there is also the more commercial side that I have had to bring into it; there are far too many pebbles that I have collected that will never get polished, let alone made into any of the multitude of jewellery items I see at the moment of collecting them. So I don't even bother picking up many pebbles now, and most of those I do get discarded as I know I wont be able to economically do anything with them even if I do do anything. But the good intent is there.

At the end of the day I want to incorporate my life into my work. My own personal history, as well as that of my ancestors, and of the land I live in. I want to combine my experiences from my past, as an horticulturalist, plants man, landscape designer, and my work as an archaeologist, and landscape historian. This is why I refer to myself as a natural historian, a combination of the two main aspects of my life, nature and history, that have been with me throughout my life. And, over the last 15 years I have been lucky enough to find ways to express my interests, and myself, by combining these influences into artistic mediums that have allowed me to do so (although I have also been afraid to explore other mediums, which I should do!). It has also led me to being able to explore the spiritual and aesthetic much more than with the more the technical and physical.

https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/GreenManJewellery

Merlin in the Nuremberg Chronicle (1493)

However! This is just one of the major themes that has been playing on my mind of late. Various conversations and messages from people have got me looking in depth at my personal spirituality, and I can only touch the surface of this, as it is so so so deep and complex, but at the same time so simple.

Now the nagging agnostic in me still struggles to accept the spiritual 'happenings' that I have had over the last few years. Most of the time I can just say to myself that this is pure co-incidence, or serendipity, but sometimes some things happen in ways too often, even as rarities! (If that makes sense! LOL!). And even today I still don't really believe in gods in the sense of a divine person sitting on his cloud, or in her cave, or whatever, deciding the fate of men and women, and getting annoyed at people not believing in them, or worshipping them in the wrong way according to some heavily edited book or whatever. If they were that upset with anyone for 'blasphemy' they could do something about it themselves. They don't need religious fanatics to go to war with other people, for not opening their boiled eggs from the same end as them (a 'Gulliver's Travels' reference for those who don't know).  But the agnostic in me can accept many divinities as conceptual constructs to help primitive people understand the World around them. Also that there is a life spirit (the 'Force'?), that is within all living things. In fact in each and every cell! Every cell of every living being is desperately trying to survive as long as possible. To keep their individual spark of life going. But as a consequence the only way that those sparks can keep alive is by the death of others; either directly, or via the remains of former life. There are few living organisms that don't need the death of others in order to survive (perhaps some of the bacteria living around undersea thermal vents?). Of course, how you get sustenance from other living beings is a question of human ethics!

But what has confused be to a great extent, and what I have had to just accept as "Well it is", is my finally becoming aware of and my great affinity to 'my' version of the Green Man. I say finally, because I can look back through my life and see he was already there, only I just couldn't see him. I can easily accept him as concepts of the male spirit, resurrection, the Wild Man of the Woods, the oak tree, and the hermit in the woods, and perhaps many many other things. But like, I think, all divinities, male and female, they are either all the same, or part of all of the same thing. The ALL. The Universe? It is just that we all have different ways of accessing the divine. Each of us is different and should be able to explore and experiment how we access it. Each to their own, as long as you have good intent.

It may be that you find many others on a similar spiritual 'path', and, of course, one of the biggest factors effecting your mind set and approach to this will be down to the societies you were brought up in and/or live in. So not surprisingly I have been heavily influenced, for good or ill, by Judaeo-Christianity, but through my historical research I am familiar with Classical, Middle Eastern, Celtic and Germanic pantheons too, and to a lesser extent other World religions. In no way am I a Christian, but I am very aware that for the last 1,500 years most of my ancestors have been, and that is something that should not be ignored (I must do a blog about my 3rd Great Uncle John Cousins at some stage, he wrote a lovely piece about his spirituality in a Christian context nearly 100 years ago. (Ha! That will keep you all keen! LOL!)).

Anyway! After I became the Green Man Potter, it still took me a couple of years to recognise that he was actually there, 'with' me. (And my finally finding I was a pagan is covered in my other blog on the subject). But fairly early on after this, during my early years on social media, I became friends with someone who opened up another related affinity to me. She lent me a book that had been a big influence on her back in the 80s that was about Merlin and many of the pagan aspects seen within Geoffrey of Monmouth's 'Life of Merlin'. I can't remember the book or the author right now. I am sure someone will tell me off!

Merlin reads his prophecies to King Vortigern in Geoffrey of Monmouth's Prophetiae Merlini (c. 1250-1270)

I had read Geoffrey's 'History of the Kings of Britain' back in the 80s as part of my keen interest in anything Arthurian at the time (after all most of my ancestors come from a few miles from Tintagel!). But at the time I had realised that most of the 'History' was fantasy, and/or was pinched from other works, although there were some bits of folklore that were original to this book. And at the time I found the chapter on Merlin's prophecies rather dull and was mainly about flattering his Norman audience. So when my friend introduced me to her 'special' book about another book ('the Life of Merlin'), I was a bit sceptical, and not expecting much from it. Also, I had read most of my Arthurian fact and fiction before I had done my degree in archaeology, so now I realised I would have to read the 'Life of Merlin' alongside this book about the paganism in it (written by a Neo-Pagan, of course). So I downloaded a copy of the main classic translation, which came with copious notes about where Geoffrey had lifted this bit and that bit from, allowing me to read it critically, but I also did so with an open mind (I hope).   And I found a great affinity with the Merlin presented in this book that was different from the one in the 'History'. This was a different Merlin, one I could believe in as some one that may have existed, and one close to 'my' Green Man. Very much the spiritual hermit/Wild Man of the woods, but also someone with passions, and not necessarily a good man, which made him much more real although magical at the same time. And I don't mean modern fantasy film magical. Much more someone with a great affinity to Nature and the plants and animals of the wild woods. Mind you there was an interesting incident I specifically remember where he had disappeared into the woods for years, and eventually his abandoned common law wife decided he must be dead, and accepted the love of another man. Under the system they lived in she could re-marry with his permission, which he granted on his return, while riding a stag, with a host of animals following him, but at the granting of her freedom to marry the other man, he ripped an antler off the stag, threw it at the other man and killed him! More-or-lees "Yes you are welcome to marry this dead man!". Not very nice! LOL!

I wont say any more really on this right now, as it was at least 9 years since I did this reading exercise, and I forget the details.

But I have had other affinities to a slightly different Merlin, probably through reading the old legends, as well as the films, and various novels. Co-incidentally, the reason why Merlin is so high in my mind at the moment, is that I am half-way through re-reading the four books of Mary Stuarts Merlin trilogy (4 books? well there was a sequel on Modred); and it has reminded me of how much I had 'liked' her version of Merlin; a very believable Merlin in an historical early post-Roman Britain, which I now, after doing an archaeology degree, can still believe in, while still being aware that they are novels.

Nimue reads from a book of spells while holding the infatuated Merlin trapped in The Beguiling of Merlin by Edward Burne-Jones (1874)

But there are so many aspects of the romance of Merlin that I have a great affinity with. I have had a love of Pre-Raphaelite romance ever since my teens, due to a BBC series at the time in the 70s (and a visits to Kelmscott and Morris's wallpaper factory in Merton at about the same time), and a lust for beautiful women with lots of thick flowing hair (Oh where is my Lizzie Siddle or Jane Morris?). I have been so unlucky in love throughout my life (or is it because of my unreal romantic expectations?). I have never been married, and it seems less and less likely that I will ever be, and even less likely that I will have children. But then again, at my age, facing the rapid approach of 60 next year, after a lifetime of mostly being on my own, do I really want someone with me all the time, and the hassle of children? And is it because of this that my work has become the children I shall never have? Is that where the spirit in my work comes from? All the normal life I never had? All the love that I would have given to a wife and children?

And over the last 10 years, since becoming so much a part of the pagan scene, I have been waiting for my Nimue, my young student, who I will probably quite happily let beguile me.

SATIS!

Organising My DNA Matches : - Trying Out RootsFinder

Organising My DNA Matches : - Trying Out RootsFinder

I am sorry, but if you are a beginner to Genetic Genealogy a lot of this wont make much sense, but I do not have time right now to do the basics. I promise I will write a beginners blog at some stage.

I have been exploring the DNA tools of RootsFinder.com and I am pretty pleased, and slightly annoyed about what I have found so far. Why pleased and annoyed? Because it seems to be able to do in minutes much of what I have spent hours and hours, for days and days, over the last 3 1/2 years! LOL!

I have only done the GEDmatch.com tie in part so far. RootsFinder itself is another Utah based online tree service that is mostly free, and ties in with Family Search, but can also be linked to Find My Past, etc.  (I think?). But it is a good, well laid out, and easy to use site as a family tree site. But it is the new DNA tools that attracted me. 

I had recently spent a lot of time on Ancestry making sure I had all known matches in my tree that also had a GEDmatch kit, and marking them 'DNA Marked' with their GEDmatch user kit name for another program which turned out to not really do what I wanted it to (I hadn't noticed until then that there is a 'DNA Marked' option in the event drop down list of burials, etc.). I also have all those in my tree that I know I have a DNA match to, whether GEDmatch or not, with 'DNA Match' in the title(?) part of their name. 

I then imported my family tree as a GEDcom, to RootsFinder and then imported my current GEDmatch 'One-to-Many' list, which was an amazingly simple 'select all', 'copy and paste'! RootsFinder then sorted it out into a proper list that ties in with them. I was then able to mark people from the 'One-to-Many' list that were in my tree, and it colour coded them and you can see their relationship to you in a fan chart too! I did this for my Mum and aunt too.

The next two phases took a little longer, but not due to RootsFinder. On GEDmatch I paid $10 for access to the 'Tier 1' tools for a month (which I do occasionally anyway, not only to get access to these advanced tools, but also to support GEDmatch). I then ran the 'Segment Matching' tool and the 'Triangulated Segment' tool (the really slow one, as there is a lot of data to churn through). Make sure you save a copy of the results anyway for other purposes, but all I had to do when the runs had finished was to 'select all', 'copy and paste' into RootsFinder.

I was then able to see graphics for the shared segments, and a spectacular 3D cluster diagram of triangulated matches, and one of those circle diagrams with all the matches round the outside, grouped by close relationship, and a maze of lines looping between clusters.

It will take some time to really see what I have got, and how to import my AncesrtyDAn matches (using the 'AncestryDNA Helper' chrome add on tool), and my MyHeritage matches, and FTDNA matches too; although I am not sure what results I can get from each of the other sites data.

There is a friendly Facebook group on here called 'RootsFinder DNA Tools' and the developer is one of the admins and is keen for feedback and suggestions (he is already working on ways of combining all the results from the different companies together).

I am really pleased so far.

A Boast Fulfilled. The Goddess Revisited.

A Boast Fulfilled. The Goddess Revisited

To understand the background to this blog you need to have read my last blog (Ten Years of Knowing I'm a Pagan), at the end of which I said, after ten years I was determined that I was going to return to the natural Earth Mother temple I discovered as part of my spiritual journey in Wensleydale on the day I discovered I was a pagan.  

Anyway, for various reasons I hadn't been back there for the previous ten years, and although I implied I would return within the week, the weather or work meant that I failed to do so in August.  This played heavily on my mind throughout the month, as I was disappointed with myself for not going, knowing I really wanted to honour the tenth anniversary of my 'conversion' (even though with hindsight I now know I always was a pagan), but also to face up to my fears that I would be disappointed that it wasn't the same sort of experience.  Then at the August Bank Holiday camp at Sentry Circle, a group of us held a 'sumbel', a ritual drinking ceremony at which toasts are made to the Gods/Goddesses, spirits of the land, and the ancestors, both ancient and recent. As part of this you can, if you want, make a 'boast', which is a binding promise to do some future action. I boasted that I WOULD return to the Goddess temple within the next month.

I was NOW oath bound to do this!

So this week I did it! Only a month later than originally intended, and well within the month I had given myself to do it at the sumbel. I also chose my day wisely, as I wasn't sure how well I would cope with the steep climb ten years (and one month!) on from when I did it last, but it was towards the end of the event/camping season, so I was relatively fitter than at the beginning. I also I wanted good weather too, as I didn't fancy climbing the grassy slopes in the wet (even though it had been so at the time of my first ascent). I was very lucky with the weather; with a window of fine, warm, dry conditions, during a less settled week; as you will see from all the photographs, it was glorious!

Everything was great, as I walked down hill from my car looking for the start of the path I was to follow. All sunny and warm, with hardly any wind. I was starting to regret adding an extra layer in my bagpipe bag. A just in case layer. Oh! And I forgot, I was also bringing my non-Highland bagpipes with me too. Well 2 1/2 sets of bagpipes, and a couple of recorders.

As soon as I found the right path, and started my new pilgrimage, I was welcomed by the Goddess in her falcon (Kestrel) form.

If you look carefully, in these two photos, you will see her circling just ahead of me, leading me on, along my spiritual path.

As you will know from the last blog, it was as the Kestrel she revealed herself to me ten years previously at this place, and I have been very 'aware' of her presence whenever I see her in this form ever since.

Unlike the sun and showers of my last visit, as I said, the weather was glorious, and I could see for miles.

There was one of the collection of cairns I saw last time.

And the path led on.

I didn't seem to see so much of the fairy mine entrances of last time? I don't know why they weren't so obvious? Maybe as a result of the long hot summer?

But there was the square feature in the grass field I saw last time.

Eventually, like the last time, I reached the end of the track, and again, technically, I had the same choice of the longer safer course directly ahead of me, or the steep and potentially dangerous climb to the left.

Of course, unlike last time, there was no rainbow ahead of me as a sign that I should take the safer route, for me to then reject it for the more dangerous, less well trodden path.

This time the steeper path was what I was here for; and so I began the long, slow, ascent of a fat middle aged man on a mission. And it was far from easy, but not too difficult, as I used various features in the grass and rocks as steps; zig-zagging slightly to make it easier, and with a few rests on the way. But all the time I was very aware that a misjudged step could lead to a long bumpy slide down the hill at best, or MUCH worse, at worse. The hillside was dry, and I have a lot of common sense, and I was carrying an outsmartsmephone this time. But there are times in your life that you have to push yourself, physically, and mentally, to really live life! You have to challenge yourself, and set major targets to get yourself out of ruts, and advance to higher levels, and of course, this is what the boast had made me do.

Eventually I got to the top of the first, steepest, climb, and reached the glacial terrace I had rested on last time. Yes! Time for a rest, and enjoy the view. Oh! And by this time, I was regretting not bringing some water with me, as I had meant to have done. But then again, I kept telling myself, deprivation is part of the spiritual journey of a pilgrimage.

After a rest, I started looking around and planning the next part of the trek. The Mother temple was somewhere there at the top of the next slope.

I had actually ascended the first slope at a slightly earlier point than the last time, so walked further east to see the remains of the sheiling hut I had seen last time. But looking up I could see the closed rock door in the cliff face in the crag above (not obvious in the photograph). Again it reminded me of the sealed entrance to the 'Mines of Moria'. LOL!

But the temple was not that far up, and was in the lower rough line of cliffs and grass at the top of the next slope. But where?

After a while and some thinking, I thought I knew where it was most likely to be, as it was hidden from this angle, but I guessed that it was up by the white rock you can see shinning in the middle of this picture. In fact, I can now see three rocks forming a line showing me the way to go. I took the white rock as a way marker for me at the time, and it turned out to truly be so!

I was spot on! As I reached the top of the second slope I arrived directly at the temple! I was so pleased.

 Time for another rest, and enjoy the view, as I gathered my thoughts, and prepared myself for what might happen next.

It was now time to enter the temple. 

As I had feared, it didn't seem as big as it 'felt' in my memories, and the forecourt and thighs that had reminded me of a Neolithic passage grave weren't as obvious; and without the shrouding low cloud that surrounded me by this point last time, that had made everything seem more intimate. This time everything was much more open, but very friendly.

Yes! Ever since I was greeted by her kestrel at the beginning of my walk, I knew that I was very welcome here, a returning friend, as well as a worshipper.

Last time, I had been very unsure about entering 'her'. Symbolically entering the vagina of the Mother Earth. Not sure about committing sacrilege? Whether this was a sexual act? Or a return to the womb? But this time I felt she was happy for me to enter her, and I felt comfortable, but very aware too within her. And boldly I went all the way to the back of the gryke without hesitation, just watching out for my footing and head.

Unlike last time when the waters had appeared to flow from her, due to the long hot summer, she had seemed much drier from the outside; but I found a pool of water within, and stooped and took a couple of sips, more licks, of fluid. Strangely, despite the sexual innuendo, I did not have any sexual feelings at the time. It was an act of worship and respect within a temple to nature.

Then it was time to return to the outside, in an act of symbolic rebirth.

Until I was out back in the forecourt in front of her, with the whole World before me.

It was then time for me to 'perform' the second part of my promise to myself, that I had wanted to do for the last ten years; and that was to play my wooden Medieval bagpipes in her. To me, playing my pipes in special places in the landscape, like burial mounds, henges and stone circles, or historic buildings like churches, cathedrals and castles, is, well, special! When the pipes are playing well the drone is an important part of it, as close to meditation and ritual as I can normally get. Sadly the pipes weren't playing well, and I wasn't making 'beautiful music' within her. Not bad music, but not good. So I tried playing my plastic Scottish Lowland pipes I had with me too, but they weren't very good either. I think it was because I was now very aware that I was drawing attention to myself, via the sound, and even though I hadn't seen another person on my trek, and I was at least a mile from where any were likely to be, I was worried someone would just appear out of curiosity. So I put away the pipes and went back to basics by digging out one of my recorders. I was able to play a few tunes within her, but not only was it less 'ritualistic', but my fingering was rather fumbled (some more innuendo I know), as for the last ten years I have hardly played the recorder, and the fingering is slightly different than the pipes.

I found this part of my time at the temple disappointing, as I had built up big expectations, and then I had let myself down through my own worries about trying to get the right musical resonances and my shyness about potential audiences. But of course no one had appeared.

However! When I came out I found I had had an audience. An audience of curious sheep had gathered outside, drawn by the strange sounds coming from their watering hole! LOL!

The return journey to the car was more of a boring slog in many ways. I slowly worked my way up to the very top of the hill, after walking along another glacial terrace for a while. All I wanted to do now was get back to the car, which seemed a lot further away than I thought it was. And I was also very aware that this may be the last time I visit this particular place, as if I wait another ten years I will be 68 and it may well be very unwise to attempt a similar climb, even if I am still able to do it. But there are plenty of other places I can worship the Goddess at, and I was also planning an easier way to get back to this temple in the future that would be much safer, if less spectacular.

And it was less of a spiritual walk in many ways too. It was contemplative rather than meditative. Contemplative, because I had had ten years of regularly attending pagan events, and spiritual activities in the landscape (including helping to build the stone circle at Sentry Circle). Spiritually I am much more aware of myself, and much more comfortable with myself, and my now fairly important place within the pagan community. That sounds like self aggrandisement, but entirely unsought, I have found myself as a community elder, to a great extent, conducting handfastings and naming ceremonies, etc., and also with the important role of answering questions from pagan curious general public members, or those new to paganism; and a very important role providing support to the vulnerable within the community. And I did not seek any of this. People just asked me to do  these things, or have been drawn to me. But I am also very lucky to have found a strong community of good and accepting friends, who, like myself, try not to judge people, but accept them for who they are, as they are.

Ten Years of Knowing I am a Pagan

Ten Years of Knowing I am a Pagan

This week is very significant for me, as ten years ago, about now, I had what I call my 'Saul on the Road to Damascus' moment; when I discovered I was a pagan, which, considering I had been an agnostic, was a major thing for me to admit to myself.

Some of you that knew me at the time may well remember I wrote  a MySpace blog about it at the time (Yes! 10 years ago we were mainly new to social media and MySpace was the place to be). Some of you have also heard me tell the tale over the years at my stall or round the campfire. It is a bit of a long story and in someways better told with a few drinks while sitting round the fire, but I will try not to bore you with it now.

I need to give a little background before I go on. When I started up as the Green Man Potter in 2005, I hadn't set out to exploit the pagan market (as some have suggested), the whole Green Man, and Pottery thing was a result of a dream and a series of coincidences (another story for another time). It just so happened that over the first couple of years of trading that I discovered that most of my customers were pagan.  Even though nature and history have been very significant to me throughout my life (particularly landscape history and woodlands) I considered myself an agnostic, with a keen interest in historic buildings like churches and ancient temple sites, etc., but no interest in god-mumbling. So it makes my 'conversion', as such, even more significant, although I still remain very much an unbeliever in gods, etc. wondering around doing things.

Right!  So it was early to mid August 2008 and I had my pottery stall at a craft fair in Hawes, Wensleydale, North Yorkshire; a venue I did quite regularly back in those days during the summers.  Over the previous few months I had started to look into Neo-Paganism, its origins and branches, as I started to make friends with my customers, and I had already had had a stall at a few pagan conferences, had started attending a local pagan moot, and started attending pagan camps; but I was approaching it all with a sceptical eye but an open mind.  I liked the whole concept of paganism, as a broad philosophy of being respectful to Nature and each other, but one thing I already knew was that I wasn't into anything fluffy, especially a lot of the New Age, Hippy stuff that had been made up in the 60s and 70s. I wanted something with more antiquity and a real earthy, natural basis.  This meant that I was looking at Shamanism, but I didn't really fancy lying in a cold dark cave for hours (a not so cold dark cave would be OK), or sticking cactus spines in myself (I am not into self harming of any kind. I don't enjoy pain, even if it releases my inner demons), and I was especially not keen on drug taking (particularly drink shaman's piss after he had been drinking reindeer piss, after it had been eating fly-agric toadstools).  So thinking about these issues was heavy in my thoughts at the time, when on the Friday night I went for a half-drunk walk in the countryside next to Hawes.

The next day, in the morning, a customer started bending my ear who was a Christian Fundamentalist (with the emphasis on 'mental'). He told me that when archaeology proved the Bible right it proved the Bible right, but when it proved it wrong, it was 'just opinion'. But then he went on to talk about Neanderthals and the Ice Ages, which if the Bible is 'right' they never existed! So he was an unthinking talking arse! But he did buy a Green Man item, as the Green Man is a benign concept. All the other traders were giggling among themselves while this was going on, and were all suddenly very busy when the twat finally left my stall.  Then in the afternoon I had an Evangelist come up to my stall saying that she would pray for my soul, despite me saying that she didn't need to, as my soul was perfectly OK; but she also went on to buy a Green Man item.  This is still the only time this sort of thing has happened to my in my life (well not two in the same day! LOL!). 

By the evening I was quietly fuming, and needed to get out for a walk, despite the showery weather, and I knew exactly where I wanted to go.

This was my third summer of attending craft fairs in Hawes, and as I would be camping, I had often gone for a walk in the early evening, but I had never done any on one particular hillside that I used to see while driving in and out, and I had kept telling myself that I should go for a walk there one day.  I could see that there was a line of old lead mines on it, and from looking at the map, I could see that there was a path along that line for about half a mile or more. However, the start point for the path was about a mile or two from the centre of the village, and I had never been keen on the extra millage to my walk after a long day's work on the stall. But this time I was determined to go there, so I drove there to save my legs and time. I just needed to get out on THAT hillside!

As you can see there are also some interesting modern cairns too.

And old mine entrances and drains.

Yes! I know there appears to be an orb, but it was just a bit of drizzle on the lens.

You can see how misty it was between the showers from these views across the valley.

So! One thing I have never been able to do is meditate, well not in the 'Ommmmm!!' sense, but while I was walking along I was quietly mumbling to myself, f-ing and blinding about the two twats that had upset me with their twattery, but of course with the background thoughts about Shamanism as a sort of 'mind-worm' too. Of course, even though I didn't know it at the time, I was doing a form of meditation.

Now I knew the path I was on only went so far, and didn't really know what was at the end, but when I got there, I could see from the map I had three choices. Go back the way I had come, but I always hate to do that, I will always prefer to do a circuit or loop of some kind. I could of climbed over a gate (and maybe some fences) and take a longer, safer, route back to my van. Or I could take a much shorter, but very steep route directly up the hill slope, which would be riskier but get me back to the van much sooner (and then back to the village for a pint or three!). Just at the moment when I was trying to make up my mind, as to which way to go, a rainbow appeared directly in front of me on the longer, easier route. I found myself thinking something like "Bloody 'ell! My pagan friends would tell me that this was a sign! A sign telling me that I should take this route. A sign telling me if I go the other way I might fall and break something, or the like!"  But no! I was still in a bloody minded mood, full of obstinacy and not willing to conform. So I said to myself "NO! I am not going that way! I don't care about the warning! I am going THAT WAY!", which was the shorter much steeper way.

So I set to clambering up the steep grassy slope. So steep I was on all fours. And. And, just at the moment I started to climb that slope I looked up and it happened! My Damascus moment! 

As I looked up I saw a kestrel hovering above me, not the first I had seen that day, but she was there, directly above me, and I instantly knew "That is my totem animal." A flood of images and memories and, and, oh so many emotions and thoughts all came in a seconds rush that will take me so much longer to relate.

(This was actually another bird I photoed earlier.)

So in that rush of thoughts I found myself saying "By this sign conquer!", which is what Constantine the Great is supposed to have said on seeing the Christian Chi-Rho symbol in the sky before going on to win the 'Battle of the Milvian Bridge'. I also saw it as an upside-down Thor's Hammer. I also suddenly remembered other times I had seen the kestrel in significant situations, now with hindsight; she had always been there but I had been too blind to see it (although I now know I have other totem animals and plants, but she was the first to slap me in the face and say "Oi! Wake up!").  But I also knew SHE was a female kestrel, and at the time I didn't know that the falcon was associated with the Heathen Goddess Freya, but as things turned out this would soon be of even greater significance.

As I continued my climb, all these thoughts were mixing around in my head, and I was in the deepest of thoughts, so I hardly noticed the physicality of the ascent, but of course, this also was a form of meditation.

Then I reached a break in the slope, a long wide glacial or river terrace with the remains of a wee bothy on it.

The way back to the van was now easier and away to the left, the way I had been so determined to follow before my 'moment' with the kestrel a few minutes earlier.  But now, over to the right, at the top of the next steep slope I thought I could see a door in the side of the low cliff. I think it is visible in this picture I took at the time. You can see a square line in the exposed rock feature in the upper centre of the picture. 

Now I have a bit of a thing about doors, I can't stand leaving them open, and this was a closed door I 'felt' I could see. I just found myself drawn towards it, despite the steep climb, and it being away from the way I wanted to go, and despite my earlier stroppy, ignore the signs mood, I just HAD to investigate, so set off up the grass covered scree.

As I climbed and scrabbled along, I looked up and suddenly I thought I could see three doors, and the nature of the doors had changed, they now seemed to be open. Looking at the photo, I am not quite sure what I was 'seeing' or where I was at this time, but in theory somewhere in the photo. But which of the three doors was the one I had been drawn to? The door that had looked a bit like the entrance to the 'Mines of Moria' in 'The Lord of the Rings'. I found myself chuckling as I said to myself "Which one smells the sweetest?", in reference to a choice Gandalf had to make inside the mines. So I continued towards one of them, and ended up somewhere very different from where I had expected.

You must remember I was very deep in thought, probably high on adrenaline, and 'seeing' what my mind was seeing, as much as what this next photo shows; and I can't even spot where this is in the previous photo.

Now back in the 90s when I was doing my landscape archaeology PhD, 'Phenomenology of Landscape' was very trendy; that is, if a feature in the landscape, either natural or an ancient structure, etc. looks like 'something' special now, it probably did to those in the past. So, for example, if it looks like a face now, it probably looked like a face to people in the past. Or in the the case of the door I thought I had seen, it may have looked like a door to someone in the past too. And Now. Now! I found myself in what looked like, and 'felt' like a natural 'Earth Mother Temple'; an enlarged gryke(?), like a mini gorge in the low cliff face, and a small brook flowing from it. 

With my heightened senses it reminded me of the entrance to a Neolithic Long Barrow. You can't see it in this photo (and maybe if I go back some of the features I thought I was seeing aren't actually there???), but in front of this natural 'vagina' there seemed to be a small flattish forecourt, with a couple of scree 'thighs', which with a Long Barrow, archaeologists think is where bodies were left for ex-carnation, before the bones were symbolically returned to the 'womb of the Mother'. Of course, in this case, the flowing water from the 'gash' (LOL!) in the hillside added to the symbolism.

Remember, my mind was full of deep thoughts and a multitude of ideas and the recognisance of symbol, all in a cascade, all at once. I just 'knew' I was somewhere 'sacred', I was in the very presence of the Mother, at the entrance between the 'Worlds', or at least I knew that is how the 'ancients' would of 'felt'. And now I was getting some confusion in my head. What should I do now? What should I be doing? What should I not do? As I found myself naturally approaching the entrance to the main feature. Should I 'enter' here? Should I not? Will entering her be defiling her? Does she want me to enter her, what with her flowing dampness? She seemed welcoming to me, as long as I respected her. With all the sexual energy (or was it just innuendo in my mind?), should I masturbate? I know some that would in this situation, but you will be glad to know I didn't. At the time, and ever since whenever I am in a sacred place, I don't actually feel very sexual, even with the physical  fertility of the place being so blatantly obvious. It just doesn't feel right to me. But obviously these thoughts were in my head at the time, as I considered what to do.

I decided to carefully nudge my way in (yes, I know, more innuendo). I then found that there were some cobwebs across the entrance, and this made me giggle, as it was a reflection of most of my sexual partners; and I was careful to try and not disturb the cobwebs.  Perhaps it had been a long time since anyone had been in here? Perhaps no one had seen the significance for a very long time? But one thing I knew from that point was that MY woman has to be an earthy woman, a natural woman, a woman at home in the natural landscape.

I didn't go very far inside her, and I don't know how long I was in there, as by this time the place was being shrouded in lowering clouds, and I no longer had any real sense of time in this magic place. So I was probably soon out and was soon up on top of the hillside, and back in the man-made landscape, following a path back to my van. I have no memory of what I did after this? Maybe I headed to the 'Green Dragon' in nearby Hadraw? Or went back to the campsite and then to bed, or a pint in Hawes? I just can't remember. It doesn't matter. I was just spending the rest of the evening coming down from my spiritual high.

For the last ten years I have kept meaning to return to this special place, and this time take my Medieval Bagpipes, to hold the nearest thing to personal ritual I do. I would like to know how the drone sounds within the Mother? I have played them in West Kennet Long Barrow (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XhBRvTLMd_I), but I have never quite got back to this temple. Maybe I am worried that I will be disappointed, and I wont see what I saw and felt before? Or maybe I am being too lazy? LOL!

Well I am intending to return there next week on my way back from an event in Wales. If I don't do it soon, I might be too old to do it in another 10 years time.