She inspired me to stand up and fight for my truth if necessary, to listen to and build a relationship with the wild heart within my soul, instead of trying to smother it. Wild women always know ‘instinctively when things must die and things must live’; ‘they know how to walk away, they know how to stay’.65 I believe that a strong mother is vital in life, to teach this inner guidance system which must be passed down through the female line. If you are a woman feeling ‘fatigued, stressed, frail, depressed, confused, gagged, muzzled, weak, without inspiration, without animation or soulfulness, without meaning, shame-bearing, chronically fuming, volatile, stuck, uncreative,’ then you need to awaken the wild within! A healthy woman is “much like a wolf: robust, chock-full, strong life force, life-giving, territorially aware, inventive, loyal, roving.”66
Hamish scratches his head and begins a ‘sermon’; “The value of a gift cannot be measured by its price. The best gifts take the form of attitudes, gestures, sentiments and love. Japan’s greatest tea master, Sen no Rikyū established a tradition in which a host invites a friend to his home for a tea ceremony. The room is decorated with blossom and an inscription chosen to celebrate their friendship. The tenderness lies in the refinement of the choice and with it, the largeness of the gift it represents.” I smile to myself, it is obvious the old devil does more with books than screwing up the pages and loading them onto the fire or pinning them up in my damp hallway! I realise from his recent ‘lectures’ that he is something of an intellectual. “Do you think you could find this book amongst a quarter of a million of them?!” Hamish snapped me out of my thoughts. “I’d be willing to give it a try,” I reply. “Good then, head for Wigtown.” I am a woman on a quest once again.
Armed with my trusty sat nav and Hamish’s approval, I jump into my red rocket. As I hit Scotland’s book town, I am amazed that this sleepy, backward little town, tucked away in a corner of Galloway, was transformed in 1998 into a notorious destination for eccentrics and bibliophiles. I am presented with the largest second-hand bookshop in Scotland and the far from second-hand-charm of its proud proprietor Shaun Bythell.
As I walk around the cavern containing 100,000 books, I think to myself that for some of us, nothing more in life would be needed than a bed and an endless supply of tea amongst the shelves. Like Anne Fadiman, I find that my expectations of new and second-hand book shops are very different. From the new I expect: ‘cleanliness, computer monitors and rigorous alphabetisation’ and from a second-hand book shop the preference is for ‘indifferent house-keeping, sleeping cats’ and ‘organisational chaos’.67 George Orwell documented his experience of working as a clerk in a second-hand book shop in his 1936 essay Bookshop Memories. He found the reality of long hours in a freezing shop, shelves full of dead flies and dealing with lunatic customers was enough for the books to lose their allure; “I really did love books… the sight and smell and feel of them… as soon as I went to work in the bookshop I stopped buying books. Seen in the mass… books were boring, even slightly sickening.”68 Thankfully, Shaun seems not to have been afflicted by disenchantment and ‘The Bookshop’ thrives on the energy and enthusiasm we have for old books and the collective knowledge of human experience they represent. Shaun explains the beauty of his work lies in each day being a surprise: “You never know what you’re going to get, one morning a £30,000 book might be walked into the shop,” in the meantime, it is obviously an enjoyable wait. Book addicts, bird watchers and whisky lovers all flock to Wigtown on the quest for their respective interests – what a combination! For some birds there is only one possible destination – Wigtown Bay, which is how it is for wild geese, wildfowl and ospreys and down the road, Bladnoch Distillery produces a whisky for every palate.
“What’s all this fuss about books and reading?” the 15,00 strong population are entitled to ask – “Does it automatically make us wiser and better?” Or the ubiquitous question: “What makes a good book good?!” Without going into a lengthy answer, it is simple: you can live without a book, but you cannot live without a sofa. However, lying on a sofa without a book only faintly resembles life!
I manage to locate a copy of Clarissa Pinkola Estes’s Women Who Run With the Wolves and escape from the shop, after bidding farewell to ‘my friends’ and not succumbing to the desire of a quick patrol of the shelves. Something of a bible for the feminine it is a fascinating collection of stories coupled with Freudian analysis and a healthy dose of magic! It is enlightening and empowering for every woman in search of her inner spirit because in every one of us there is a wild and powerful creature, filled with sound instincts, passionate creativity and ageless knowing. Society attempts to ‘civilise us into rigid roles without souls. Without Wild Woman, we become over-domesticated, fearful, uncreative and trapped.’ I would like to share this jewel of archetypal wisdom with all women on Mother’s Day. Mama always used to tell me, “My darling Zosia, if you are lucky in life you will have more than one mother, perhaps many, to get all that you need”. There is always hope for those who temperamentally do not fit in with their genetic family as we often choose a whole array of contributors. I would like to wish all my mothers a wonderful Mothering Sunday this year and let’s celebrate all women because in a sense, we are all mothers.
65 Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With The Wolves, p. 8
66 Ibid p. 12
67 Anne Fadiman, Ex Libris, p.123
68 George Orwell’s essay Bookshop Memories, in ‘The Collected Essays, Journalism and Letters of George Orwell’ 1968.
Time for a Spring Clean
Spring is officially here; daffodils are blooming in their golden shades and tiny lambs are to be seen frolicking in the fields. This year they are even more irresistible than ever, as many farmers have invested in little plastic jackets which defend against lashings of wind and rain in patches of freak weather in Scotland. The sight of tiny fluffy white balls in their coats, cavorting in the grass, but never too far from Mother Sheep is heart-warming. Despite flash floods and snows, which have made many of us double-check, the vernal equinox did occur on the 21st March and introduced the new season.
Once again, nature resurrects itself, releasing all the pent-up energy of hibernation. It is time for Eastern thinking; each season creates an energy which dictates how we ought to cook, live and harmonise with it. When living in the country, a long and dark winter can make us miss the proximity of others and the hum of city life. However, one sunny day makes it all worthwhile. My teacher at the nutritional school I attended in Glasgow, told us that she was only aware it was spring when she looked down at her plate and saw a reflection of the colours outside her window. Vegetables should start to take over your plates from now on and throughout spring/summer – particularly salads, sprouts and raw food which imbibe that upward, renewing energy, as we migrate away from longer cooked stews and soups.
Snowdrops, daffodils, crocuses and tulips are the first flowers of spring and they are characterised by this powerful rising energy. Symbolising rebirth and new beginnings; the daffodil is said to be the flower of abundance, so go and feast your senses on a walk somewhere they spread their golden light! Don’t forget that 10-15 minutes of sunshine is enough to help our bodies produce vitamin D and to make a substantial difference to how we feel, so it is well worth investing in outside time to banish the wintry blues.
The wind picks up and the air is clear as the earth is swept by a refreshing, renewing force. I come out of the house and feel like jumping for joy on my trampoline. The dogs join me (still relishing the absence of the legendary goats). The thrill of the upward force, blowing my hair and shaking my brain around in my head is exhilarating; a perfect opportunity to question the negative thought patterns we allow our minds to spoon-feed us. Things are moving and it is a great time for a detox and a shake-up of the lymph system. Over the cold months we often become more sluggish and our body is quicker to store fats in our reserves. Now is a good time to kick start the metabolism with exercise and diet. Those of us who are
church-goers will be participating in the abstinence of Lent; however, whatever your religious persuasion, a customised form of Lent is a good idea for us all health wise. If we abstain from one or more of our favourite indulgences for at least one month, the body has a real chance to flush out toxins and regenerate itself before we start again! The body can only do one thing at a time: it is either protecting or repairing, but we must give it the chance!
Suddenly there is a commotion at the gate and Hamish emerges through a cacophony of barking, pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with a cargo of manure, torturous looking gadgets, shovels, spades and pitchforks. There is no escape I think to myself, contemplating how much lonelier life would seem here without the welcome intrusions of our old friend. It is amazing that in a time when we are diseased by unnatural social propriety, Hamish just barges in and never asks whether or not it is convenient! I have stopped testing the hardness of my skull and the resistance of my bladder on the trampoline as Hamish approaches with his precious brown sack full of seeds. “I’m sure you have already cleaned the house and fasted for forty days,” he says and we both laugh out loud. “Now it is time to listen to the awakening earth.”
I don’t even have time to run inside (and get my still un-used flower print gardening gloves which William bought me) before there is a shovel in my hand and a beautiful polka-dotted seed. “You need to get the mantra going,” Hamish tells me, as if I would know what that is… “You know – sow with the flow.” Forget cuddly Easter bunnies, forego chocolate eggs and cake. Under Hamish’s guidance we dig, prepare the seed beds by raking the ground and strim the grass before mowing it. A job from which I am exempt, having nearly ended up in the field after trying to use William’s new mower and strimming the heads off our solar lamps last time! The shrubs are mercilessly pruned, any dead matter is cut back, to reveal plump buds on each stem. We of course don’t forget to nourish the soil (not the plants) with pungent manure, which the dogs love to gulp down – straight. Now it’s time for the seed to spring forth the new life which has sat so patiently inside it, waiting for soil and water, into action – amazing. Once all the urgent tasks are completed, there is time for a hot-cross bun after all. Rolling my cigarette and burning my mouth on earl grey tea, I feel blissful, having participated in a dance with Gaia, the mythological earth goddess. With just a little effort, I have ensured that I will be privy to a miracle and the soil will offer nutrient-rich tasty gifts.
“I would have liked to have been born in a summer garden,” I said to Hamish, smiling as I remember the best reply to the question, “How old are you?” I have ever heard. My Mama did not feel to answer traditionally (as any woman might), so she replied “I was born on a warm summer’s afternoon, it was a Wednesday; the birds were singing as the wind ruffled the leaves on the trees.” The reply left the person too stunned to speak! I ask Hamish when he was born, whilst happily munching. “It was the year of the Dragon.” “That sounds about right!” I exclaim, half choking on the last puff of my cigarette! I know that the equinox is recognised as the start of a new astrological cycle, but I have not been drawn to astrology more than looking up at the evening sky. Hamish began to speak, I could tell it was going to be a lesson by his tone:
“According to legend, the Lord Buddha summoned all the animals of the earth to him before he departed the world. Only twelve made the journey successfully. In gratitude, Buddha rewarded them by naming a year after each one in the twelve year cycle of the Chinese calendar. The system is extremely practical. The Dragon is depicted as a mythical adversary in Western legends, but the Orientals see him as the epitome of style and wisdom. As for you my dear, you were born in the year of the sheep I believe – before you despair, what the Westerner sees as docile and even stupid, the Eastern mind views as sensitive and artistic.”
St. Ninian’s Cave
This is good news I think to myself, casting my mind back to the conversation I had with a farmer’s wife the other day whilst sharing my enthusiasm for the lambs in their red and blue jackets. She said it really only made the slightest bit of difference because sheep are born to die, no matter what precautions you take and even those which are rejected and taken into the barn to be hand-reared only have a 50% chance. I’m definitely sticking with the Eastern view on this one!
“So, Mr Astrologer, what kind of year does this one bode to be?” I inquire. I can tell that Hamish likes this subject, “It is the year of the Tiger; a dramatic year for the world, natural disasters will not be uncommon and the milieu will be volatile – financially it will be a rollercoaster.” He becomes very quiet. “Have you any petrol in the red rocket?” I am suddenly asked – “Um, yes, where are we going?” I gulp, what does the crazy, old goat want now I wonder. It is apparently time to visit the Cradle of Christianity in Scotland. We departed on a pilgrimage of sorts, with Hamish as guide to Whithorn which is the nearest town to St.Ninian’s Cave.
The cave is a holy site for pilgrimages to celebrate Scotland’s first saint, who introduced Christianity to the land. The holy man named Nynia used this quiet and secluded spot as a place for solitude and retreat. He built the first Christian church in Scotland in AD 397, of whitewashed stone, so it could be easily seen. The ‘White House’ led to the name Whithorn. When I look at Hamish walking in his tattered sandals and overgrown beard towards the tiny cave, accompanied by the roar of rolling waves and angry sky I feel humbled and moved. Far from the religious implications, the natural beauty of the place and its serenity speak a universal language. As we walk back from the beach, Hamish looks at peace with his beliefs, having completed his duties as thousands have before him.
Back home I am rounding up the spiritual harvest of my forty day fast – I did it! There is an old Chinese proverb: when we are born we are assigned a pile of food. When we consume it, we die. Why hurry to the grave then, I ask? This is a good way to think about your health and the consequences of mindless eating; the concept of mind, body and spirit is not just a conspiracy of enlightened life coaches and therapists. A healthy mind and body result in clearer emotional states to lead you down the right path. I mean, let’s not kid ourselves here – we have to make sacrifices – however, I have got my diet on track. As for the rest – prepare for preaching – there is no point in being gorgeous if your life is a mess. End a codependent relationship, quit a dead-end job, and ditch any toxic friends! Smile a lot and give compliments out whenever you have the impulse, remember it comes back three times as powerfully according to karmic law. Get your dream job – people who love what they do are not looking for another person to fulfil them. Search for your dream man if you have not already found him. Adopt the mantra – feel the fear and do it anyway! I leave you to contemplate the wise words of Tsem Tulku Rinpoche: “We keep looking outside for the light when we should now become the light”.
A Handful of Ash
Larry the lamb
On the 10th April 2010, a plane carrying Poland’s president, his wife and all his political team including the head of the military, top politicians and their families exploded into flames killing all ninety-six on board. The plane crashed whilst trying to land at Russia’s Smolensk airport. The visit was in commemoration of the Katyń massacre in 1940 where Stalin’s secret police murdered 22,000 Polish military officials. Four days later, on the 14th April, Icelandic volcano Eyjafjallajökull broke through the glacier which bears it’s name and propelled a huge tongue of lava, smoke and ash into the air.
A national disaster for Poland and a natural disaster for Europe left the world astounded. We take so much for granted, air travel is pretty close to Star Trek’s beaming device, taking us anywhere on the globe in a matter of hours. Mother Nature has voiced her dissatisfaction and history has expressed its cruel sense of irony. We have no choice but to be humbled because the first consolation is that there is nobody to blame – volcanoes do not have to answer to us and neither does Majestic History. Planes do fall out of the sky and the air-space above us can be locked. We are completely at the me
rcy of fate, or the events around us and it seems that the task of living is making the best of the present moment. Never has carpe diem seemed truer – we really do not know when we could lose the things which we rely on as the solid, background tapestries of our world. When things are too devastating to take in, there is quietness in the air but the delicate equilibrium of the ecosystem and historical justice have been disturbed.
There are lessons to be learned from both these events. Disasters and tragedies remind us that death is the only certainty in this life. Our constant companion, we fool ourselves in our cushioned, modern life into thinking that we can cheat the Grim Reaper with our medicines and technology, that we can somehow buy time and be more prepared; but the planet has its own ideas. Eventually, the wind will lift the cloud of volcanic ash and the sky will calm; the Polish people will learn how to live with loss and go on, laying new foundations for the future. As Robert F. Kennedy said in 1966, “Like or not, we live in interesting times.” The recession coupled with the recent events, acts of terrorism and nuclear weapons status all make for quite a broth.
I have been drawing on Ram Dass of late; “Everything in your life is there as a vehicle for your transformation. Use it!” When we see things from this perspective something interesting happens. Not only are seemingly cruel and random events changed into stumbling blocks to be conquered, they are actually challenges which stretch us and open our hearts. They are markers which show us where we stand in relation to emotional attachment and our need to control. We take so much for granted in our arrogance – tragedies of the natural and public kind seem to be the only things which make us humble en masse. Carl Jung, the founder of modern psychology, used the word ‘synchronicity’ to describe random but seemingly related events. Some of us call them coincidences; others prefer the idea that there is a hidden hand which guides and connects all things. Death is a profound teacher. It asks us how long we will allow ‘the spoiler’ as Barry Long called the mind, to rob us of the riches of this experience on earth?
Scotland and Aye Page 9
