I've posted this before..............and like a loop, it returns to my mind at this full moon Equinox, so beautiful, this Day of Balance which was also, in olden times, Mabon, the Second Harvest Festival.
You who will come with me
I will consider it Beauty
I will consider it
Every morning when I rise with the sun to water my garden, I find myself talking to all the people that live there. The tall sunflowers, making seeds beloved by finches and sparrows. The desert tortoise, Augustus, who has decided to live here and occasionally makes his mysterious appearance. My cats of course. The green scarab beetles getting drunk on tree sap. The bees, having a drink at the bird bath. The heavy pomogranates pulling the tree down now, the cosmos flowers as tall as I am now. The woodpecker loudly telling me that I need to fill the bird feeder, butterflies and funny looking caterpillars eating holes in leaves. The morning is not so hot now, and it is tender, reminding me of some song I can't quite remember, but a Song that is infinitely sweet, with a touch of bitter sweet, like Irish music, which always seems to remember the transience of things.
As a child, the garden was full of people. Now, as an old woman, I seem to have returned to that happy experience. I try, in my very little eco-system, to create Good Relationship with all My Relations that honor me by living there. Even the ones that chew up my flowers.
"To the native Irish, the literal
representation of the country was less important than its poetic
dimension. In traditional Bardic
culture, the terrain was studied, discussed, and referenced: every place had its legend and its own
identity....what endured was the mythic landscape."
There was a time when humans thought of themselves as part of the Circle of the majestic cycles of the planet, and as part of the great family of life - when they negotiated with the animals and the elementals, when they listened to the voices of the trees and the medicine plants, when they thanked the buffalo or the reindeer or the seals for their sacrifice, when, I believe, they celebrated the harvests and the auspicious days as part of the great Song, their voices adding to the chorus. ("Chante: to sing"). We can re-member ("to join") this en-chanted paradigm, and learn to speak to each mythic landscape again. I feel Robin Williamson's beautiful poem so fully captures that vision.
I share it again and again because I love it, the Bard, because I want this Voice to not be forgotten. And Oh! As the moon shines down in its fullness on this day of quinox, I wish all, all, all it's fullness and abundance and promise.
Found at the Chalice Well in Glastonbury, UK.
You that create the diversity of the forms:
Open to my words You that divide it and multiply it Hear my sounds
Ancient associates and fellow wanderers You that move the heart in fur and scale I join with you
You that sing bright and subtle Making shapes that my throat cannot tell You that harden the horn And make quick the eye
You that run the fast fox and the zigzag fly You sizeless makers of the mole And of the whale: aid me and I will aid you
You that lift the blossom and the green branch You who make symmetries more true Who dance in slower time
Who watch the patterns
You rough coated Who eat water
Who stretch deep and high With your green blood My red blood
let it be mingled
Aid me and I will aid you
Silbury Hill, Wiltshire, UK
I call upon you
You who are unconfined Who have no shape Who are not seen
But only in your action I will call upon you
You who have no depth But choose direction
Who bring what is willed That you blow love upon the summers of my loved ones That you blow summers upon those loves of my love Aid me and I will aid you
I make a pact with you
You who are the liquid Of the waters And the spark of the flame:
I call upon you
You who make fertile the soft earth And guard the growth of the growing things I make peace with you
You who are the blueness of the blue sky And the wrath of the storm I take the cup with you
And with you the sharp and the hollow hills I make reverence to you
We call the Earth
I make wide eyes to you
You who are awake
Every created thing both solid and sleepy Or airy light, I weave colors 'round you
You who will come with me I will consider it Beauty