Winter's coming has been sharp and decisive; the lingering mildness of autumn and its flushes of warmth have been sent hurtling over the horizon by the teeth of winter which seems to have come in with a vengeance – a vengeance born on cold winds and freezing rain. Autumnal trees and their golden dressing have been ravaged lately and been left bare and black. This kind of sharp change is welcome, the clarity of transition has been a welcome change from the strange smear that has occurred in the past.
I had plans to do something at Nos Calan Gaeaf at a similar time with other members of Brython, as it happened I had some problems which scuppered that plan and has thrown a minor spanner in the works and has really left me thinking. Part of the process was 'toasting' the local ancestors and spirits – the thing is, I am struggling to get anything in this area. I live in London; about 300 miles from any kind of ancestral connections. So to make a connection in London with 'ancestors' is a bit like grabbing a floating beach ball at arms length. That said I am back in Wales now and that feeling is there; having spent time with family, shared in bad news and hysterical laughing with them I 'feel' that ancestral connection as part of the place I am in. So, I will be doing my 'Halloween thing' over the time I am here.
The littlest things reaffirm everything I have been writing – I have put this blogasm together over a couple of days – such as driving don the unlit country roads and realising it has been such a long time since I have seen what the world looks like in headlights. I am reliving perspectives I have known before and it is all coming flooding back in a wave of familiarity and connection. This just isnt something I get in London, certainly not to the same extent. Perhaps I get something like this when near the Thames – it is probably one of the only parts of London I 'get something' off of. Anyway, this just reaffirms I need to work on plenty when I get back to London and the Thames is the ideal place to begin. Perhaps also I will go back to that little church – St Brides - I visited last Imbolc.
Witchcraft and spellcraft. Two words that conjure very mixed thoughts and feelings in me at the best of times, but something I slip back into with an ease which has surprised me this week. I found out when I got back that my cousin has stomach cancer. The thing is to say 'my cousin' doesnt begin to get close to the kind of relationship that part of my father's family has with each other. They are like brothers and sisters rather than cousins, all due to the situations surrounding my Nana and her husband back when my dad was a baby ( I think this is something I will come back to soon as it concerns issues such as ancestors and their acknowledgement or non-acknowledgement even). Anyhow, the thing is, he cant die. It just isnt an option, I wont let that happen to my father and my sick cousins wife (who I am very find of). So on hearing he is ill within seconds I had already in my head a form of witchcraft with which to set at this tumour. Suffice to say it involves a lemon and some big wicked thorns – maybe nails is thorns aren't too easy come to get hold of this wet weekend. It was the way I slipped into this mode and had things worked out in my head before I knew I had done it which has got me thinking, it has become almost instinctive and only it seems when it needs to be. Nice.
I have had one of my hiatuses again it seems – sounds almost medical really – so it is time to settle down for a winter of cold and wind and woolly jumpers, a chance to do some reflecting, thinking and planning and of course I should set it all down in little ones and zeros and slap it up on the net.