Tuesday, 4 July 2017

"Creativity Offers People a Path Back to Themselves and Importantly to Others"...

So this article caught my eye today...

"
Dr Val Huet, CEO of the British Association of Art Therapists (BAAT) and Director of the Oxford College of Arts and Therapies (OCAT), participated in a debate on “What is creativity?” at the International Arts and Health conference in Bristol on the 20th June. Here is what she said...

"Creativity is a profoundly human attribute, that has the potential to make us joyful, elated, engaged as well as despairing, anxious, confused but never apathetic or predictable. However we describe it, creativity is not the remit of experts or specially gifted people and does not just happen with arts – science, gardening, cooking, etc., are all included – ordinary, everyday creativity is also part of what makes us human. Creativity is the act of giving shape even abstractly to something new, whether an idea, an object or a concept, which is then taken up and evolved by many others. It allows us to find and lose ourselves in a process that takes us to new places. It is always dynamic and never leads to a full stop. One of the aspects of creativity I feel passionate about is its relational quality."



This is definitely true for me. I had lost my creative path during an abusive relationship and consequently struggling to bring 3 kiddies up alone. What I needed the most was hidden behind worry and recovery. Ironically, my cancer diagnosis turned my life around for the better, because it made me prioritise the truly important things in life. Once I had had the life-saving transplant, I really embraced being creative; it was as though I was ravenous for the ways it actually filled me up, on all levels! Not doing anything creative became a weird concept. Through being creative I met other creatives, of all kinds. I also went out searching for other creative people! Artists, writers, musicians, storytellers, organisers, seamstresses, crafts-folk, people who make, fix, mend, design, dream up... and that took me towards meeting people who wanted to learn, to make, to discover new skills. Being creative, and being able to facilitate situations where others could be creative, nourishes me, and as I make, and create, and teach, I learn - about myself, about others, about the world, about concepts, about courage, and how being creative is not an innate talent, not something I can do, but which I cannot - it is about showing up, and working hard, and if what you do you love, then the hard work makes sense, it nurtures you, and everything flows naturally 












Here is the link to the whole article : http://www.baat.org/About-BAAT/Blog/126/Creativity-Offers-People-a-Path-Back-to-Themselves-and-Importantly-to-Others

h
❤️

Sunday, 30 April 2017

Brave Steps - my first talk at a writing festival!

Well here is a strange thing! 
Back in February, Lucie Parkin, creator and director of the lovely Abergavenny Writing Festival (http://abergavennywritingfestival.com/ ), emailed me to say she had seen me mention, on Facebook, blogging and poetry etc.... my brow furrowed somewhat with concern and intrigue!
"So", she continued "perhaps you would like to give a talk about how you use writing, on the opening night of the festival, alongside Robert Penn and Georgina Jones?"

I felt really surprised, chuffed, and unsure! I have stood in front of many classes teaching all ages groups, but public speaking is different to teaching... but! - I had promised myself, when I was given my remission news after my cancer treatments, that I would say Yes to more things, so here was a new thing. I emailed Lucie back, said yes please, we had a lovely little chat on the phone, and it was all set!
I knew what I wanted to say, but for 2 or 3 weeks I couldn't write it down, and nearly began to stress over it! Then I looked up the other speakers - oh my days, REAL authors with lots of books and years of experience! Then I had a think... I had always written, not much of it published, but I had been scribbling for ages. I talk a lot about subjects I am passionate about, and that I am knowledgeable about - and writing stories about why I wrote would be about me, and I should know some things about myself by now, yes? ;-)
I also emailed a friend who is Very Wise and has the solitude of the mountains to help with perspective. Her response and a very simple but clever question resulted in a real 'lightbulb' moment. Of course it would be alright, if I just relax and let the notes for my talk filter in when I am not forcing them ...


A few days later, just as I was thinking about bed, around midnight, my muse landed... I scribbled lots of words down, in no particular order, but I just wanted them to be ready for me to read over the next day. In the morning I squinted at them - I was pleasantly surprised to find that they made sense, and just needed tweaking. What a relief! 

I then thought that at the end of my talk, I would ask the audience to write two things on some post-it notes - the first , what they thought of or gained from the talk, and the second, what they would like to do that is brave (being brave was a bit of a thread in the talk as you'll see) - I felt this would be a great way to gauge whether or not my talk had made people nod off, and if not what they enjoyed about it, and to see if anyone did have something they wanted to do but hadn't taken those first steps yet!

Some of my friends were able to come and support me in person, which was great! Robert Penn gave a rousing talk regarding narrative non-fiction and different ways to approach it, or not, and to my relief, he was also reading from notes ! He also mentioned authenticity, something I would be speaking of later ;-)
Armed with a G&T, a last minute " go get 'em" type message from my fella and some grins from my friends, I stood in front of the audience and began.
I think I could have used more bullet points, and maybe if I do it again, I shall, but I read from the notes and ad-libbed a little, and every time I looked up, everyone seemed to be listening happily. I found that I enjoyed it, and later, one of my friends commented "the you that stood up there, I have known since you were 19, but what I didn't realise was that YOU didn't know you were you until fairly recently!" Oh yes indeedy... what an insightful woman she is ...

The final talk, by Georgina Jones, was very clever and very funny - "I thought I was thick until I was 30, then they told me I had dyslexia!" - a very wonderful woman with lots of energy and inspiring "we just need to get out of our own way"... ain't THAT the truth! I would love to listen to her for longer too.

I am going to include my notes below - and some photos of the post-it notes, because they are so very touching; I was so thrilled that everyone had something to say! 

Oh! AND - the following week I was having lunch with Francesca, a fabulous friend and a poet and a letterpress printer - and she let me try out one of her presses! I made a letterpress print of a phrase from my talk, as it seemed to one that resonated with a lot of folk. I have included it in the photos below :-)

(If you would like the link to my other blog of my cancer journal/journey, do let me know. I will try to remember to add the link in here later!) edit: here it is : http://ems-therealcword.blogspot.co.uk/2011/08/maddest-week-of-my-life.html

The notes/talk:



       ""In my talk this evening, I’d like to mention the value of writing for ourselves, to describe how writing came to matter to me … about the usefulness of discussing subjects that are often imagined to be uncomfortable, and how learning to be brave has shaped where I am in my life.

We have many types of ritual and ceremony in our world. Some of these involve passing on stories, by voice, through art, or in writing, and the importance of honouring our memories and experiences runs like a thread though our societies.
Of course, we now have many ways of recording our words… we can keep a diary, write a blog, send a letter or simply trace a few words into the sand at the beach. Words carry weight and power – kind words can lift us, thoughtless words can be carried with us for many years; words evoke a myriad of emotions within us.

Writing for ourselves, in diary form, may not be as popular these days, perhaps in part, because we can record our thoughts and activities on social media, but I think keeping a private diary is a mindful practice, giving ourselves an opportunity to learn how to be present with our own selves, allows us to evidence our experiences authentically. In our busy worlds, it is chance to relax, record and remember.
Diary writing can also be a useful tool for practising more formal writing. Anais Nin was a prolific diarist, writing from 11 to 74 years old. She observed the most important discovery she made keeping these was “naturalness and spontaneity… I only wrote of what interested me genuinely, what I felt most strongly at the moment, and I found this fervour, this enthusiasm, produced a vividness which often withered in the formal work…” -  and these elements are what she felt she could dip into at any time for material.

2.       It is said that everybody has a book inside them. You may say, “I couldn’t write a book!” – but I do think we all have a story inside of us, at least. I think if I asked any of you, could you tell me a story about yourself, you would all have something to say… be it long, short, epic, funny, or heart-wrenching – our stories all lie within us, and I believe it matters greatly to be able to honour those stories in one form or another.

3.       So, how did writing come to matter to me? I believe my interest in it came hand in hand with my love of reading, I would literally become lost in a book, oblivious to anyone around me, completely transported into the world within the pages. I fell in love with how utterly fabulous words are! At primary school I was an avid pen pal; as a teenager, I wrote reams of love letters!
Earlier in my life, I found it was easier to express myself through writing than through conversation (I am sure I have friends now who would find that difficult to believe!).
I think this developed when I discovered that I could avoid confrontation yet still rid myself of negativity by writing a letter and then burning it – this way, I had released my thoughts and emotions safely. It is a useful technique for anyone at any age, although it can be argued that perhaps there is always someone else who may benefit from your thoughts too...?

Sometimes, allowing others into our story can be very beneficial, if somewhat scary!
We often believe that we are the only ones feeling ‘this’ or experiencing ‘that’ – it is easy to think that we are isolated in a specific situation. Of course, essentially, all our experiences ARE unique, but they do overlap with others’ lives too.
Someone could be wondering how to tackle an issue, or tell someone they have an illness, or tell someone they love them! By sharing our thoughts or ideas, we can help others too. Writing them down means we could help more people - how amazing is that!
We could do this to one person via a letter or email, or maybe a private message on Facebook. Or it could be to many people, via a public blog, an article, in a writing group, posted on social media, or by talking to a lovely group of people!
Some of my own stories touch on subjects that some find difficult, or that society still finds taboo, but if just one person benefits from hearing another’s experience, then I think it is worthwhile sharing.

4.       There have been pivotal points in my life where writing was the thread of hope I hung unto, like a quiet but constant companion.
The first of these was in my 30’s, when I realised I had to face the realities of becoming a single parent, as I had to leave a deeply abusive partner.
This was the beginning of learning to be brave.
Several things happened with writing during this transition. Once I had left him, I emailed all my friends that I had been unable to maintain friendships with to apologise for having had to have distanced myself, but that I was back, and hopefully we could reconnect or see each other more frequently now.
Some may ask, why did I write, and not call them? Mainly because it can feel embarrassing (rightly or wrongly) to admit that you have been living in an abusive relationship. Not everyone knew of course, because that is how perpetrators work – by showing the world one image of themselves and your relationship, and by the time you realise that is not reality, you are too scared, ashamed and too confused to confront that. Another reason, is that it was an emotional subject, plus, a call could have been awkward if anyone had not wanted to re-establish friendships!
But, what happened next was wonderful.
 I received many beautiful and relieved messages, welcoming me back, friends telling me I was brave and brilliant to both escape the abuse, and to write to them!
What a relief this was! Reading their words via email was very life-affirming, and allowed me time to absorb the comments and questions – it takes time and effort to write, so I felt we had all taken that time for each other. In this instance writing proved to be very useful, much more so than a phone call would have been; creating both some distance and some level of intimacy, if that makes sense?
My experiences and my desire to help others who were going through the same situation, led to me working for a charity for a few years, one which supported men and women suffering in DV relationships. If you or anyone you know is going this type of situation and you don’t know where to find help or information, just message me later for some links. Domestic abuse is still a taboo subject for many, and not always dealt with appropriately by some of the authorities, and there is still a lot of groundwork to be done, but the more it is discussed in public, the better it can be tackled.

Another consequence of my transition from that relationship was also positive – I joined an online writing group. Not brave enough to go to one in person!
 Each week the person running the group would post a photograph, and if we were inspired, we would write a poem, or a short story about it. This was such fun, and it was easier to post your work online as nobody knew you! This group was very supportive and my confidence began to reappear, in myself and in my creative processes, something I had not been able to connect with for a while.

The next occasion that inspired me to write was immediately following my experience at a sweat lodge. I don’t know if anyone else has tried this? I sometimes receive invites to unusual or interesting events – I have noticed! , which is how I have come to be chatting with you this evening!
An old friend invited me to go along to this sweat lodge, which his very well trained colleague, Duncan was running. Duncan had studied a shamanic path in Britain and with Native Americans, and was very grounded and experienced.
 I had no idea what to expect apart from it would be dark, hot and lots of naked bodies, which was all a bit scary! I am fairly claustrophobic, I am not keen on the dark – I am ok with being naked, but not necessarily in a small room full of strangers! But I wanted to do something to celebrate becoming brave, and I thought DOING something brave would be a good way to do that! I have no idea if there is any logic behind that, decision, but it was made and of we went!
It is difficult to explain the evening briefly… but there is a link on my Pebbles blog to the account I wrote following the event, and the poem I wrote too, and I can share the link with you later.

I have saved a few of my poems onto a Blogger site, and was very lucky to have some published in Wisp magazine too. Well, I say lucky… I don’t think they are all brilliant, and have wondered about deleting or editing them, but then they wouldn’t tell of what I experienced at that time, and I don’t think being brilliant is important when we write for ourselves, I think what matters, is that they were authentic. Whether we write for pleasure or we are working on that inner book, all our creativity is progress. It is ok to not love everything we create. Learning from mistakes is probably good for us on some level!
And, writing that poetry kept me focused, and gave me an escape; it represents an important stage in my life, of a year or two of healing and allowing a crack of creative light back into my life. I found after a while that I wrote poetry less often, and moved towards taking more photographs, becoming interested in the world around me, and I think, looking back, that this was an important subconscious shift in my life.

5.       The next life changing event which saw me writing more often, and another subject which many of us find difficult to discuss, was the time I began documenting my series of tests and then my eventual cancer diagnosis.
This was in 2011, and by now if I was writing, I was using my laptop, as using a pen or pencil for long periods of time was causing pain in my hands – this was due to a recent diagnosis of fibromyalgia in around 2009. So, my documentation of these experiences was taking place online, on an additional Blogger site. “The Real C word.”
So, why was writing about this so helpful, and to whom?
Firstly, as a single parent with 3 young daughters, I had nobody in my home I could immediately discuss these worries and concerns. Of course, I could call family and friends, but again, if my girls were around, there were some things I didn’t think were appropriate to discuss in front of them. (7, 14 & 17).
So therefore, having the space to write down all my worry, anger, questions, and black humour, was an absolute boon! I wanted to find answers - and this led me to the Macmillan website where you can join forums where you can meet people with the same cancer type as you, and if you wish, you can write mini blogs or brief questions for people using the forums.
 I know when I have mentioned this before, some people have looked rather squeamish and asked me if it wasn’t rather ghoulish, spending time online with lots of people with cancer, some of whom will inevitably have a terminal prognosis… It is difficult to explain to anyone who has not had cancer, how much of a huge relief it is to find others who “get you”, because even though your friends and family are supporting you and helping you, and being utterly amazing with their strength and generosity (and I have some AMAZING friends and family who are absolute rocks!! ), they may not understand the parallel worlds you now inhabit. There is Before Cancer you, and With Cancer You, and it is a tricky balancing act. Also, there are some things that cancer patients do not wish to tell their friends and family, because you try to protect them as well.
Being able to write down my fears, or pretending I had none, and recording how much I was laughing at cancer, sharing these moments with those in same position as me, helped enormously! How can you say to your loved ones that some days, you are completely pissed off with them because their world appears to carry on turning, doing normal things, whilst yours is stuck in a regime of appointments and medications and the endless periods of waiting – it is not their fault, but you have days where you are resentful, and feel guilty for feeling resentful!
Expressing the furies and frustrations is very cathartic… as is writing down all the times you have laughed – giggling at the ugly wigs they offer you to wear, making jokes about the tubes hanging from your boobs… So being on the Macmillan forums was REALLY useful, and kept us all going, even though we inevitably lost some friends to cancer along the way – I think this made the rest of us determined to fight harder, for our own sakes and in memory of those who didn’t manage to kick cancer’s arse.

I felt I could also turn to my diary each evening and not have to pretend – although looking back at some of it now,  I can see that even then I was making light of some things, as though I was trying to persuade myself that it would really be ok.
I kept notes about my treatments too, which changed dramatically when they discovered I had non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma instead of just Hodgkin’s lymphoma… and being prepped for a bone marrow/stem cell transplant. I joked to my family that if I was going to have cancer, I may as well have a serious one and have one of the scariest treatments available! I am not sure they really appreciated those types of jokes!  But, gallows humour is sometimes a great way to deal with certain situations!

6.       Expressing ourselves through writing and art is a powerful coping and healing method… in my teaching experiences I have met many people who use these strategies for fun, or to distract themselves, or to help them work through an issue they are stuck on; anything that can help you get outside yourself, to make you laugh, or to concentrate, to grieve or to find balance… find some perspective….  Any of these activities that help the creative process - these are all very important for our well-being.

When we write, we can express ourselves in any way we wish, jotting down our innermost thoughts, emotions and ideas, able to scratch out, add or edit – without any fear of judgement, it is just for us, most of the time. How cathartic it is to allow all your happiness, frustrations, joys and anger flow from your mind, via your fingers, and onto the page!


The online forums and social media sites have their pros and cons I know, but these ways of communicating were such a lifesaver for me when I was ill, as they enabled me to communicate with all my friends with one message when I was too weak to text or phone everyone -  and when I posted about my cancer, and what was happening, I received quite a few private messages thanking me for sharing as it was helpful to them or people they knew – so despite its many drawbacks, it can be a very effective tool for communication!
I was asked to share my blog with friends, as I had mentioned I was keeping an online diary,  which was a lovely request and one which made me nervous but happy to do. And I knew I had to say yes….as, since kicking cancer’s arse, I had promised myself that I would do more things, say yes to more adventures, step outside my comfort zone more often.
And so, my being brave continued!


7.       Because of taking brave steps, I found that other slightly scary yet tempting opportunities were coming my way. Having worked for the Green Man Festival production team, the year I was in remission, they asked if I would like to carry on with the admin work or run my own stall at their festival! The actual question was like this “Well you can carry on working with the admin, or now you do stuff with woolly things, perhaps you’d like to have a stall here instead?” … I was gobsmacked. I was also petrified. But I was very grateful and excited and I said YES!
During the festival, a visitor, and now a friend, came over to do a feltmaking workshop and make a green man mask. We were chatting about other festivals of different sizes, bands we liked etc., and discovered a mutual love for Baka Beyond (fundraising for and with the Baka tribe) and regretting not having managed to get to one of their singing workshop weekends, despite both feeling we were not great singers nor confident at singing in public! But we loved the music and the ethos of the band and were keen to meet them. The next week, we both received an email about their next workshop!! - we both contacted each other, and despite being petrified, we went together to the weekend in the woods, and we learned how to chant, to sing, how to sing happily with others, and learned much more besides.

Also at that time I was not completely enjoying my return to work as I missed being creative, there was a new management in place that changed the atmosphere there, and I knew where my happiness lay.
I felt that an opportunity had been presented to me, and having survived cancer, I owed it to myself and my family to grab that opportunity, so I took a big, brave gulp, and swapped to a p/t job. The relief and the joy were instant, and I knew I was making the right decision. I soon weaned myself onto full time felt maker and tutor!
Times have been tight financially, and being self-employed is often feast or famine, but feeling happier, and more fulfilled, has also been very rewarding!
In being brave, I made myself go to meetings with local art clubs and work shop providers, I said yes to exhibitions, even though my legs were like jelly. I agreed to help run events, to run workshops for celebrities, and to be interviewed on live TV for the Corn Exchange campaign. I literally got back in the saddle with horse-riding, and allowed room in my heart for a special someone.
Always with wide eyes, slightly startled, but taking brave steps to new adventures, meeting new friends, and keeping note of it, by diary, by blog, by social media, and discovering that when I took a step forward, the ground beneath my feet was always firm.
Those brave steps are how I ended up here, talking to you at the Abergavenny Writing Festival.

8.       I hope this glimpse into my stories made sense, and, I hope that you will begin to, or continue to, play with writing - jot down some ideas or some poetry, experiment with keeping a diary, or send someone a short story just for fun!
(ask them to begin now!) = writing down two very brief sentences on these post-it notes – the first, your thoughts on the talk, and the second, what you’d like to do that’s brave. We can stick them up on the wall/board, and I will take a photo, then you can take them home with you.""
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, here are the photographs of the post-it notes and the wonderful, inspiring and touching messages that everybody left... 

Yes! Heads above parapets! It has to be done, dipping our toes in the water...


Wow! What a fabulous goal!



I feel genuinely taken aback and humbled by some of these lovely comments and thoughts...


Scary but exciting - 


Yay!


Keeping a journal can help I think, and makes our little ideas grow


Having ridden horses since age 4, and having a big gap in more recent years, I can say that being around horses, riding, grooming, mucking out, everything.. is really very therapeutic for me!


The post-it note idea, I am so glad I followed through with it, I think ti worked well! I love reading these comments!


Yes! More music!


It is definitely a healing process, it has helped me in many ways


Our own stories cannot help but be real, and I am so amazed that mine touched so many in different ways... proving that is IS good to share...


This is where we learn to fly :)


I knew that eventually, being stubborn would prove to be a useful trait ;)


This... this note stopped me in my tracks. Having lost loved ones myself, I instantly knew what this meant, but we grieve in so many different ways... and I want to give this person a huge hug!


I love these - full of "whoohoo"!


Well, that makes me blush but so pleased too, as it means you didn't fall asleep and I made sense! Thank you


YES! yes this is perfect!



I made this with Francesca, my clever and super friend, using one of her lovely letterpress gadgets... I am going to find a place to hang it in my home


That'll be me, post-talk, relieved, pleased, excited, all a little surreal but great fun - and I would do it again! I think I was looking for my G&T too...














Monday, 8 August 2016

Becoming (a short story, in progress)


Atai - Becoming


She was dizzy with excitement, fear and pride... at last, she had completed the annual Climb. The members of her tribe parted as she limped through on bruised feet, cut and sore from gripping the cliff face. Their voices became hushed, their eyes glittering with anticipation - would she now survive the dive into the river far below? Atai focused on her breathing, the calm place in her mind that she had learned to focus on with the WISE WOMAN who trained them all ...she recalled how to slow her heartbeat in order not to panic as she waited to burst back out of the river ... and stepped nearer the edge, clearing her mind of the excited cheering and whispers of her tribe. She looked out over the river, then walked to the very tip of the cliff. Curling her toes around its rough edge, she gazed down at the waters of the river. Some of the clan had tales of how it swallowed you if you were not worthy and spat you out when it merged with the sea. But Atai knew, as she looked down, down and down beneath her, that the river was a giver of Life, that it filled their thirsty mouths with cool water and fed them fish from its clear depths. As she lifted her arms to signal she was ready for this leap, this initiation/TRANSITION into adulthood, the crowd gasped behind her.  The adrenaline coursed through her body, AS Atai focused on what lay ahead, determined to succeed. She crouched down low, then, as quick as a dart, dived over the edge of the ancient cliff...

Atai fell fast from her rocky perch; it seemed such a long fall from above, but suddenly the ice-cold grip of the river claimed her outstretched arms. Atai kept calm, flicking her body around to face up and out of the waters - her heartbeat slowed as much as she dared -knowing that if she took too long to surface, the river would have no choice but to claim her for its own. With her limbs working hard in the freezing water, Atai thrust upwards, her lungs beginning to burn with the effort of not inhaling the water... she at last burst out of the waters into the sunlight... and the air! Atai was almost overwhelmed by the many emotions and sensations as her body tried to keep afloat, breathe the cool air deep into her lungs, and grin all at the same time; she was ecstatic! Then, a noise, faint and far above her. Slowly she realised it was the sound of the clan, far above on the rocky cliff, cheering and shouting in her triumph! Atai swelled with pride – even as she prepared for her next task. Once she had heaved her weary body up onto the bank of the river, Atai must now wait for the first animal to cross her path; be alert, aware, and wait quietly until a creature did crawl, fly, or run past. Despite the elation of her successful dive, she also felt exhausted and welcomed this moment to sit still on the grass and await her 'spirit' or 'totem' animal. In the sky, no birds flew overhead, the grass lay undisturbed by insects, the river showed no sign of leaping fish. The air became still and heavy with intent, and Atai wondered if her spirit guide would ever reveal itself.
As her breathing became more regular, and the damp of the waters dried on her tingling limbs, Atai heard a faint drumming noise. Then saw, rising above the trees in front of her, huge clouds of dust. The drumming was turning in her direction - she rose to her feet as a herd of galloping horses burst out of the trees and into the open space in front of Atai - her heart leaped as she realised this magnificent animal was her spirit guide! Slowing a little as they entered the clearing, some horses glanced around nervously, others were snorting loudly. As they trotted towards Atai, one looked directly at her. Fascinated, the initiate was compelled to walk forward a little - the white mare walked out from the herd and walked towards the young woman; she held out her palm, and the beautiful horse stretched out her neck and sniffed the hand, nibbling the outstretched fingers with her bristly lips, making Atai giggle quietly.
The young woman and the mare regarded each other, their eyes reflecting each other’s understanding - the proud mare bent her head and allowed Atai, trembling with delight, to lay her hand on the mare’s neck. The young woman and the mare regarded each other, their eyes reflecting each other’s understanding - the proud mare bent her head and allowed Atai, trembling with delight, to stroke her flowing mane - then she turned slowly back to the herd, and they began to trot out of the clearing and re-enter the trees.
Atai stood, transfixed by this momentous encounter, her heart pounding with excitement and joy. The horse was considered a faithful guide to the Otherworlds. For Atai and her tribe, it symbolized stamina, endurance, and faithfulness; the mare especially was associated with the feminine aspects of nurturing and fertility.
These ancient beliefs were well-known by the young woman (she had absorbed all the stories and teachings of her elders, curled up at their feet each night by the fire), who understood now that not only was her guide one of stamina and endurance - borne out by completing this initiation at her young age - but her journey was to be a meaningful and spiritual one.
Atai shook herself from her reverie, realising she had a long trek back to the path (where one of the men would have been sent to help her home on their own horses), and set off, light of heart and of foot, for she knew she would now have the respect and responsibility she sensed she had always deserved...
'This walk feels so different now', Atai thought to herself, as she picked her way along the overgrown tracks that meandered through the forest. She knew all the paths well, almost as though she had created them herself; Atai had always explored the forests and rivers, learning the names and uses of the plants, and the habits of the creatures that shared the land. Whilst her feet trod their familiar route, Atai let her mind wander over the day's spectacular events. It was if she had been dreaming – 'But,' she spoke out loud, 'It IS all true!’ “Are you so happy that you talk to yourself? “Startled out of her thoughts, Atai looked up to see one of her clansmen waiting on his horse, grinning broadly, with her mount standing beside him at the end of the path. Buka!'  - she blushed as she swung herself up onto the smooth, mottled back of her mare. Atai, still flushed with the thrill of her encounter, quickly told him about her dive, and the beautiful creature that had approached her. “Is your companion still worthy of you, now you have both conquered the Initiation and connected with the white mare?”, Buka teased her, though they both knew he was thrilled with her success. Atai grinned. 'I think both she and my human escort will suffice for now' she countered. 'Will all the tribe be back in the village when we arrive?' - Atai knew there was always a feast following the test, whether to celebrate the success, or acknowledge the passing of those who did not make it........ she shuddered suddenly, remembering the sad acceptance in the eyes of Sare's mother last year...Buka saw at once where her mind was wandering, and urged his horse into a gallop, knowing Atai's mount would follow and that its rider would have all such thoughts blown from her mind; Atai snapped her head up and instinctively gripped with her knees, feeling her mare's muscles bunch underneath her as she pushed forward to keep up with Buka's ride. She immediately realised exactly what his intention was. Smiling, she crouched low over her horse's mane, squeezed her legs tighter and willed the mare to run faster. Atai lay almost flat against her horse's neck. 'Let us see how fast we can fly!' she whispered to the mare, tightening her grip around its body. Buka’s horse was only inches ahead now, and Atai was able to cut across a bend in the path and steer her horse in front. “Now we see how bold she is!" cried Buka joyfully as his cousin sped past, urging his ride into a gallop also, but too late - Atai was glancing over her shoulder, the wide smile on her face glimpsed briefly before she once more bent forward over the neck of her sturdy horse. As the mare's hooves thundered down the old track, Atai looked down and watched with admiration the grace with which the animal moved, each muscle contracting and extending; ripples and shadows running across the surface of its skin, as though a river was flowing over the horse - then sat up a little as she helped the mare negotiate her way over some fallen trees - slowing a little just to tense her hind legs, the little horse lengthened her neck and leaped over the trunks and branches. ‘whoop!' Atai yelled - the mare's leap mirrored the joy in Atai's heart.
Buka, close behind, was full of admiration for his cousin; although only nineteen harvests had passed, she was unlike many her age. Even as a baby, she had possessed a querying expression, one that told you she was one of the Old Souls. Atai slowed her mare to a trot; the track widened as they neared the village.  Buka pulled his horse up beside her, just slightly further back - "Why do you not ride head to head, cousin?" queried Atai. “This is your day Atai" Buka smiled, "And I have had my triumphant rides into our village, this is your moment. I have had the honour to be chosen to escort you home - you must enter first, and I will be right behind you." Buka paused; he knew Atai was not one for attention and she often slipped quietly out of village gatherings when they threatened to overwhelm her, but today she would have to remain until the end of the feast - he knew she would be needing support to make it through the ceremony. “I know the thoughts passing through your head, kind Buka, and I will be needing someone to keep me focused, I am aware of that", his cousin smiled up at him. Atai slowed her horse further, taking deep breaths, wanting to ride in looking as confident as possible. 'Can I can appear unruffled? Can I use my breathing techniques from the dive to help me here?' Atai asked herself and found the answer that was returned to her was, Yes. ‘I return humbled by my passage into adulthood, full of joy and gratitude' she murmured, sending positive thoughts out to the ancestors, and the spirits of the trees and rocks around her. As Atai chanted this to herself quietly, she focused on slowing her heart again, not as dramatically as for the dive, but enough for her not to allow the tight band of panic grip her chest and throat, as tight as the vines that almost choked the trees around them; this image had often haunted her when she was summoned to a large gathering. Buka observed the play of shadows upon Atai's face, and knew she was preparing for what would be, for her, a potentially intimidating ritual which marked the end of the Initiation...
As both riders fell into a more calm and reflective state, the two horses fell into step with one another, and meandered down the path that led to the village. Atai, head bent, concentrated on her breathing. The young woman's green eyes half-closed; trusting her horse, relaxing into the rhythm of the hoof-beats and her heart. The riders' attention was caught by the scent of the ceremonial fires, and then they heard the excited chatter and singing of their tribe. Atai rode forward into the clearing of the village where a great cheer greeted her; her father stepped forward to help her from the horse, her sister approached with handfuls of moss and herbs with which wrap Atai's swollen feet, and her mother kissed Atai's forehead in the solemn tradition with which an Initiate is greeted, then grinned and threw her arms around her daughter. Suddenly, people were crowding, questioning, cheering, congratulating... the wave of people swept them into the hut; her family managed to steer Atai to the side where they huddled in corner, sank gratefully down onto the soft furs; their time together now was limited and would have to wait until the morning to be able to talk; so, quick hugs, trying to thank Keli, her sister, as the cool, soothing herbs were wrapped tenderly around her feet and secured with leaves, whispered congratulations, loving smiles - before the crowd finds them once more and ushers Atai and the fellow survivors of the leap towards the middle of the hut - for a moment she glimpsed the great table where their leader was sitting, dark eyes watching each that danced and sang in front of the fire. Atai peered through the smoke to see which other participants of the Initiation were already arrived. The atmosphere was familiar, yet she felt the extra excitement as today, she was to be honoured too.
The room grew hotter and louder as the last of the successful divers arrived. Buka had pushed forward, seeking his cousin; his eyes found hers, and she could see clearly his question reflected there - was she ok? Atai quickly scanned down her body with her mind, and found to her surprise that yes, she was doing fine, the crowd and the noise were bearable; she grinned back at Buka, nodding - yes, yes, I am ok, she mouthed over the heads of the clansmen; she felt exhilarated, for she had not once felt the tightness pull around her chest or throat. Could the experiences of today have already changed her so much?
These thoughts were snatched away as she was grabbed by the shoulder and spun around - the Initiates were required to dance around the fire as the rest of the tribe sang their praises, stamping their feet as they chanted, the dancers picking up the rhythm. The singing, chanting and dancing, the pungent fumes from the herbs thrown into the fire, the heat of the flames, whose shadows danced along the walls, the hypnotic sounds of the stamping and drumming, all combined to send the dancers into something of a trance. The mesmeric pull of the ceremonial rite tugged at Atai's mind and heart, and she was completely absorbed into the beat; the ancient rituals, at once both comforting and exhilarating, were calling to her soul and to her blood.

The Sweat Lodge

I am not sure there are words to describe the experience!
I will tell you as much as I am able, there are some things which are not to be spoken, private things between us and the great Spirit :) I do not know which of you may have experienced this or if you either agree with my interpretation, or enjoy reading about it, but here it is :))
We met first to decide who would sit in each position, to talk about the ritual and its etiquette, what would be done at each point. The entrance was low, you crawl in, and water is offered between rounds to drink....
The men left the meeting-tent and us 4 women undressed inside, the 6 men outside. The sarong I wrapped around me was discarded inside, you cannot bear to wear anything!
Absolutely amazing, nothing could have prepared me for it, the only way to deal with the immense and incredible overpowering heat was to remember that we are not solid matter but just energy, and to allow the energy of the fire to flow through you as energy beings... the chanting also helped to focus.
There were 4 rounds, the 1st was the dance chief invoking the great spirits... the hot rocks were brought in and placed in the fire pit, herbs and tobacco sprinkled over them (this is repeated at beginning of each round), then over 20 pourings of water onto the rocks...this was the biggest 'shock to the system' for those of us who were there for the 1st time, the small and pitch black space filled with the heat and scents etc... nearly overpowered us all! Then he took us through each chakra, envisaging each one becoming a flame of its colour. Next each of us said prayers for ourselves, in turn, and a pouring of water for each person - could you possibly feel any more hot?? ... Would anyone ask to leave? People were restless, committed to the ritual, yet wrestling with themselves and their egos which were battling with us to resist instead of let go...........Then the door opened, the night air entered and we could breathe again so it seemed! - and we all crawled out - we all needed to, the energy was very powerful and needed to be released -  and lay on our bellies on the wonderfully cold grass! There was a moment when some of us wondered if we could actually re-enter... but we decided it could be faced, and we all did.
2nd round, and as we entered we began to chant again, helping us find balance and the power to continue ... this round is prayers for others/the world etc. A round that was easier to cope with, and somehow there seemed to be more space inside...   time and space just an illusion? ;) ... at the end the door opened - less people left to lie on the grass at this point, I found it helped me build up more focus and my physical plane perceived it as relief!
3rd round, the 'give-away' - to release anything you wish to be rid of but to remember to ask for a positive to fill its place... this time we would all speak at once and when the last person had finished speaking, the round would be finished. Everyone it seemed, had a lot to say! Then, at last, the door opened once more......last chance to cool off as nobody allowed out during the last round ... you may ask to during the others if you need to. A few of us chose one more cooling lie on the grass, then returned to crawl back into the lodge.
4th round. Giving thanks to the Great spirits... the dance chief told us this would short but hot. What, it gets *hotter*??
As I crawled back to my place in the West (the place of mother earth, femininity and balance to the dance chief who sits in the east at the doorway), I saw one of the others lying down with knees bent to make room for the others still... I decided that was the best way to cope too! The towel under my head had to be draped over my knees as now they were in direct line of heat from the rocks... this time the blessings were faster, the pourings flowed one after another, the intensity of heat was bordering on unbearable, I continued to breathe deep in through my nose - had discovered from the start it was impossible to open your mouth to draw breath in there - try to keep up the chant then listen to the dance chief as he thanked each spirit... focused on me being just an energy spirit, nothing is solid, felt myself spinning around in spirals around the inside of the lodge... then it was over, the door was opened once more and we could all crawl back out and lie belly down on the cool earth.
Exhausted, exhilarated, filled with adrenaline, cleansed, humbled, and definitely a re-birth!!
My legs shook as we got dressed and tried to carry me into the cottage for the shared feast! I could have both collapsed into deep sleep and ran up a mountain!
As we ate we gave our gifts to the dance chief, known that night as Rowan Wise Heart, and the fire chief, my friend Steve.
Towards 1 am, we drifted off to our various resting places... my friend Pam and I , along with Steve, Stevie and Pete all into the woods into out tents, some into the caravan in the garden, one of a sofa... it took me an hour to persuade myself I could sleep! And awoke at 8am feeling fabulous :)) - and to the sound of coffee brewing by the fire ...
This WAS an amazing journey. At one point I thought I could not go on or ever experience it again, but the ego melted in the heat. And I *would* do it again, it is truly a life changing experience.
I prayed for all my friends and families and I hope on some level you were touched by the blessings :))




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Rebirth (poem of the sweat-lodge)

Suspend all you thought you knew
Abandon thoughts of being prepared.
Blasted, stripped bare,
To the bone, to the soul,
Senses at once assaulted yet caressed.
Here is where you learn
No-thing is left to hang onto,
To lean on,
Just the Self,
Both humbled and carried high,
Barely able to breathe and yet
Gulping in pure Life
Whilst the ego melts in the face
Of such consciousness.
Here, in the depth
Of utter darkness
All talk of awareness
Takes true form,
Beginning to swim with the
Particles of air, of heat,
Of energy,
Solidity is useless here.
One level sees the naked,
Vulnerable, bodies,
How little they matter,
How matter is but
Illusion.
Another sees the safe, connected
Minds,
Eyes closed, eyes open,
All is one.
Layers peeled back
Until the skin, the bones,
The essence, all begin
To fall away with the
Nonsense called reality
And instead they begin to circle within the air,
Spinning in spirals,
Oh!
The utter joy...
...and the complete
Release, combine
To create exhilaration,
Carrying you through and beyond
That which the physical plane
Perceives as discomfort,
But which the spiritual plane
Perceives as pure freedom.
Falling away, ascending up,
Spinning around...
Then crawling out of the womb of
Re-birth,
Lying upon the cold, refreshing grass
Belly connecting with the
Grandmother Earth...
Blending hallucination
Of old reality
With perception
Of the new
And knowing
That 'you' will never be
The same.

By Emma Bevan June 2009

senses

Feel the colours,
As they drift around you,
Taste the sounds,
As they dance about you,
Hear the touch,
As it slides over you,
See the scents,
As they curl about you,
Smell the flavours,
As they tantalise you,
Absorb each sumptuous sensation
As they tempt you, thrill you..
And you sink deeply
Into the utter joy.

Glimpses

Voices, memories,
Images, scents -
Blurred footsteps
Across the sands of Time,
Dark waters of the sea
Lapping at the shore,
It's shiny fingers
Searching...
Moonbeams scatter across
The swollen waves,
Reflecting the
Whispering images
Of the heart...