Wibbling

This won’t be much of a post, I suspect, because the last few days have had a good go at taking me apart. Solicitors, epic and terrifying bills, people with far too much power over my life. But today I talked to someone official who sounded like a human being, which is unusual in the system, and who maybe actually listened and heard.

Oddly enough, that kind of thing makes me cry. But the grief came this morning, before the stress. Grief, bubbling up from who knows where? From my history, from some unbled psychic pustule…. As I’ve commented before, the sheer physicality of the process is strange. Emotion moves through my body in the most direct, shattering ways, and leaves me exhausted. I can afford to be exhausted today, the second draft of the novel I’m working on is typed, this week’s edits are done, publishers have been talked to, research undertaken, collaborators emailed. I have periods of intense thinking and activity, and periods of having to stop, and this is moving towards stop. So if I don’t get a blog up on Saturday, it will be because I’ve opted to take some time off.

Oddly, as I write this, I find myself thinking of Jayne. Those of you who have been reading for a while may remember her frequent and highly negative comments on my posts. I had a fair idea for some time as to who she really was and when I intimated that I could out her, she went quiet. I don’t know if she still comes by to read – she might, because there are some very odd links binding my life to hers, whether I like it or not. What I do has the power to impact on her dramatically. But then, that’s true of so many of our relationships and we seldom know how such things will fall out.

Jayne captured the voice of my fears, and expressed well all the kinds of things I tend to beat myself up with, all the flaws and failings, all the shortcomings, all the ways in which I could be wrong. I hear that voice in my head even when there’s no one saying it to me in person. I’ve come to appreciate how much I enjoy not hearing it though. I suppose many of us have those little voices, feeding our insecurities, reminding us of our mistakes. On the whole they belong on the inside of the head. They may help to keep us honest. It’s better not to be hearing them from the outside, in terms of what that’s like to live with. I wonder what life would be like without them.

Sometimes I still wonder what Jayne would say, and what she thinks. Usually when I’m writing my bog posts. My troubled shadow, unable to admit who she really is, or where she fits in the story. I ended up writing a lot of blogs for her, trying to explain ideas that she couldn’t grasp and perspectives she couldn’t handle, before I worked out who she was. I rather hope she’s moved on, able to get on with her life and to find some direction and meaning that doesn’t refer to me. But it’s funny, sometimes the people who hurt us and try to bully us only manage to provoke us into doing better. But then, she would probably say that I was the bully, and she the one provoked into growing. It is always odd, facing a dark reflection of yourself in this way. Who am I, between these perceptions? I know more than I used to. That may be partly why Jayne went away. The hungry ghosts depend on us believing in them.

I may manage to write something more coherent tomorrow. In the meantime, I wish you all well with whatever life throws, peace at your hearth, peace in your hearts, the insight to help you find ways through your day, the inspiration to make better, the open heart that knows how to feel joy. There are too many hungry ghosts in the world already.

Druidic Arts: Responsibility

Ironically this is probably the worst day I’ve had in the last few weeks for trying to write about responsibility as art. Things I do not want to be carrying are heavy on my shoulders this morning, along with the promise of future unwanted responsibility to come. However, the thing about responsibility as art, is very much about being in control of it. You are not an artist if something is being done to you. Art is all about being the one who does. Responsibility is a curious thing to consider as art because so often it falls upon us with all the grace and elegance of a piano falling out of the sky, and frequently feels about as joyful. But, it doesn’t have to be that way.

I learned from the existentialists the idea that we can only have freedom in so far as we are willing to take responsibility. I think this is true, and is usually useful. We can also be crushed by responsibility or rendered powerless when we are obliged to carry all of the blame but not allowed the power to act. That’s not true responsibility though, it’s a form of oppression pretending to be something else. True responsibility means not only being the person with whom the buck stops, but also means having the power to act and make change.

The first stage of the art involves recognising what we are responsible for, what we could be responsible for, and what we are told we are responsible for but seem not to have the power to fix. Seeking the power or putting down the burden is essential with that second category, although that can be a long, hard fight. Recognising that you have nominal, not actual responsibility can be freeing though. At the very least, it enables letting go at a personal level. You might still have to carry a thing, but you can stop feeling it as your own.

Recognising what we are not responsible for is also liberating. It’s very important in our dealings with other people especially, to know what is not ours to do, mend, or change. It’s easy to feel responsible when we are not, or to assume a responsibility that disempowers others. The letting go process as your child becomes an adult is an easy example. We cannot live their lives for them and they must be free to make their own mistakes. No one can be responsible for anyone else’s emotions and no one should be trying to take responsibility for making someone else change, or for living their life.

Knowing what we must carry as responsibility is a great help. We are ultimately responsible for everything we do and say, everything we think and feel. Even when provoked by others, even in blind rage, or utter despair, we still choose how to be, and cannot blame what we do on anyone else, or on drink, drugs or any other such excuse. We are also entirely responsible for things we decide not to do – the consequences of action not taken, help not offered, wrongs not tackled. That is a very uncomfortable thing to look at, and it takes time and practice to engage with the idea of that kind of responsibility. We will never see the consequences of everything we didn’t do, but looking for them helps, recognising that to do nothing is just as significant as to act. To do nothing can be to tacitly enable abuse, hold up tyranny, facilitate cruelty and crush others with our indifference.

The practicing artist of responsibility knows what they are doing. They are conscious of what they carry and what they set down, and they make those choices deliberately. I think this is about where I am at the moment, but external pressures mean I’m frequently in survival mode, and not able yet, to step up to the next level that I can see. I want to move from being a responsibility musician, to being a responsibility composer. I don’t want to just play the tunes of living responsibility, I want to consciously create acts of responsibility taking. This can include things like running events and teaching. It can also mean taking the fight to the source of the wrong rather than just fending off what comes to the doorstep. It means actively seeking out things that need someone to take responsibility for them, and picking them up, and carrying them. Or, writing them new music, if you will. The person who gets to this stage will do amazing things in the world. They will create responsibility operas and ballets of unthinkable newness. They will go where no one else has gone, and they will see what is needful, and know how to respond to it. A responsibility artist isn’t just reacting or replicating, they are making something new in the world.

I imagine, somewhere beyond there, a way of being where this becomes not a fearful thing, but a joyful process. That’s got to be worth aiming for.

Druidry the waterways and Justice

One of the things my Druidry drives me to do is challenge injustice when I encounter it. There’s not a vast amount I can do on this issue apart from speaking out, but, if you are not impressed by what I share below, then please reblog, or tweet the link or otherwise help to put the word out. I believe that governments should be bound by the rule of law, and should not be able to go beyond the laws that govern us all to serve their own ends.

We’re back to the outrageous behaviour of British Waterways again. Much of the content in today’s blog has been taken from other sources and is online other places. Thanks to a Freedom of Information request, we now know that  BW’s internal Licensing and Enforcement management reports between June 2011 and March 2012 show that BW has set a target for “all boats not moving at least 30km during their contract period to be within  enforcement process. The policy of taking enforcement action against “all boats not moving at least 30km during their contract period”  is at odds with the evidence given to the House of Commons Select Committee on the British Waterways Bill 1993-94.

The only time frames and distance requirements in the guidelines are as follows: You must move every 14 days unless you have a very good reason not to (like a broken leg, or a broken gear box). You should not return to the same spot in under a month unless you have changed direction – eg reached the end of a canal. Over the term of your licence, you have to move more than ten miles. The license lasts a year, but I’ve seen for myself that BW is harassing boaters about their movement over the winter months, not with regard to the 14 day requirement, but with regard to not having moved 30km in something a lot shorter than the period of their license.

Furthermore, the policy of taking enforcement action against “all boats not moving at least 30km during their contract period” has remained secret. It was not disclosed to the User Groups who met with British Waterways Legal Director Nigel Johnson and other officers including the Head of Enforcement Denise Yelland, the author of the Licensing and Enforcement management reports, on 23 June 2011 to discuss the revision of the Mooring Guidance for Continuous Cruisers. The policy and the secrecy with which it is being pursued appears to reveal British Waterways’ objective of removing itinerant boat dwellers from its waterways.

Let’s pause and repeat that. A government body, soon to be a charity, looks like it has a policy to remove poor people from the canals. Since when was it the business of a charity to ‘cleanse’ a space of poor people who live there so that the rich folk have more room in which to play with their toys? There is every reason to think that British Waterways prefers not to mention it’s creative interpretation of the law to boaters, so as to hold a threat over the heads of itinerant boat dwellers with the intention of pressurising them to move off the waterways altogether, rather than giving them information that would enable them to know how to avoid enforcement action. My own experience is certainly consistent with this. Emails saying things like ‘I wish to comply, please tell me what to do’ were not even answered. Also, I have emails in which BW staff have told me that any person with a conneciton to an area – work, family, school doctors, that means the need to be in viable striking distance of somewhere, cannot be continuous cruisers. This isn’t in the guidlelines either, and would rule out pretty much everyone but the indepenedantly wealthy.

My source says… “In addition, British Waterways reported in its Boating Projects report for May 2011 that it has plans to introduce “longer term towpath [mooring] permits” in certain areas such as the Kennet and Avon canal which boaters without a home mooring must pay for to “allow” them to travel in a way that the rules already entitle them to do. To introduce such permits would be unlawful, but to introduce them without informing boaters of the policy of taking enforcement action against “all boats not moving at least 30km during their contract period” amounts to extortion in addition.” Which is interesting because such towpath moorings already exist on the Sharpness to Gloucester canal, I have no idea what the legal basis for them is. Morally I find them suspect because we are told that the point of a permanent mooring is to provide a safe place, off the towpath for your boat when not in use. Mooring permenantly on the towpath is magically safe if you pay to do it.

You can download all the Licensing and Enforcement reports and Boating Projects reports that were provided in response to this FOI here:
http://www.whatdotheyknow.com/request/boating_management_and_consultat#incoming-281372

The Minutes of Evidence of the Select Committees that drafted the 1995 British Waterways Act are available for the public to read and copy in the Parliamentary Archives, contact archives@parliament.uk.

Alternatively, you can email enquiries.hq@britishwaterways.co.uk and tell them what the likelihood is of you giving money to a charity that acts in this way. Feel free to write to your MP as well if you are in the UK. This is not just about the abuse of boater’s most fundamental human rights, it is about the principle that government bodies should not be able to act in this way. They should have to uphold the law. They should not be extorting money from people or using threats, they should not be causing homelessness. What would happen if other departments took the same attitude? If we let them get away with this unchecked, what comes next? Culling protected species for the benefit of rich people who like to shoot pheasants? Oh, they’re talking about doing that already…

Druidic Arts – Good Speech

As I understand it, the Celts considered good speech to be a virtue. By ‘speech’ I mean any kind of direct, word based communications where we have control over our part in the exchange. It is impossible to have speech as an art form without simultaneously practicing the art of sensing truly – already discussed. If we do not hear, read, see and understand clearly, our capacity to respond well is sorely impaired.

If you’re reading this then it’s safe to assume that communication is part of your daily life. We all do it, by one means or another, and therefore we all have the option of choosing to do it well, and cultivating it as an art form. Good speech is empowering, enabling and enriches every other art we might undertake. Poor speech, on the other hand, will create conflict, cause confusion, generate misery and otherwise make a nuisance of itself.

To practice good speech as an art form, we also need the art of slowing down. Words said in haste without consideration are seldom good words. Off the cuff comments, spur of the moment outpourings and the haste of rage or frustration are barriers to good speech. A few seconds taken to mentally rehearse words so that they do not surprise us as we say them, enables good speaking. It also gives us self control, and control over how others see us and respond to us. The ‘spontaneous’ person who opens their mouth without thinking will spend a lot of time dealing with the unintended consequences of ill conceived words.

Slowing down our responses and the words as we utter them, and using the arts of true sensing to support what we do, we can not only express ourselves clearly and get the point across, we can also observe how those words impact. What we think we mean, and what others manage to hear are not always the same. Alert to nuances and responses, we might catch the communication break sooner, and fix it before it becomes a problem. What might be playful banter to me, could be agonisingly painful to you, and I don’t want to get that wrong. Once we start thinking about how others hear us, alongside what we mean, then communication improves. We can consider how to make our speech less confrontational, more compassionate. We might think about what others are able to understand, watch for accidentally patronising people, or excluding others with impenetrable jargon.

At more advanced stages of the art, we can contemplate poetry in speech. Most people use a tiny fraction of the available language. Short obscenities as punctuation, clichés, dependence on ‘you know what I mean’ ‘like’ ‘by the way’ and all kinds of linguistic props actually weakens the beauty of communication. Once we start branching out into more diverse and expressive language, we can become deliberately poetic in our communications. Here the blending of life art and bardic art is absolute. There’s no reason why the awen can’t flow when we’re talking to a colleague, and it might come in handy whilst attempting to butter up the bank manager! We can talk our druidry, bringing the essence of what we believe into the modes of our communication – peace, beauty, compassion, the desire to nurture and empower. How we talk, or email, or write letters can become a very clear expression of what we value.

At which point, the idea of saying anything off the cuff that we didn’t mean, becomes insane.

As I understand it, the Celts considered good speech to be a virtue. By ‘speech’ I mean any kind of direct, word based communications where we have control over our part in the exchange. It is impossible to have speech as an art form without simultaneously practicing the art of sensing truly – already discussed. If we do not hear, read, see and understand clearly, our capacity to respond well is sorely impaired.

If you’re reading this then it’s safe to assume that communication is part of your daily life. We all do it, by one means or another, and therefore we all have the option of choosing to do it well, and cultivating it as an art form. Good speech is empowering, enabling and enriches every other art we might undertake. Poor speech, on the other hand, will create conflict, cause confusion, generate misery and otherwise make a nuisance of itself.

To practice good speech as an art form, we also need the art of slowing down. Words said in haste without consideration are seldom good words. Off the cuff comments, spur of the moment outpourings and the haste of rage or frustration are barriers to good speech. A few seconds taken to mentally rehearse words so that they do not surprise us as we say them, enables good speaking. It also gives us self control, and control over how others see us and respond to us. The ‘spontaneous’ person who opens their mouth without thinking will spend a lot of time dealing with the unintended consequences of ill conceived words.

Slowing down our responses and the words as we utter them, and using the arts of true sensing to support what we do, we can not only express ourselves clearly and get the point across, we can also observe how those words impact. What we think we mean, and what others manage to hear are not always the same. Alert to nuances and responses, we might catch the communication break sooner, and fix it before it becomes a problem. What might be playful banter to me, could be agonisingly painful to you, and I don’t want to get that wrong. Once we start thinking about how others hear us, alongside what we mean, then communication improves. We can consider how to make our speech less confrontational, more compassionate. We might think about what others are able to understand, watch for accidentally patronising people, or excluding others with impenetrable jargon.

At more advanced stages of the art, we can contemplate poetry in speech. Most people use a tiny fraction of the available language. Short obscenities as punctuation, clichés, dependence on ‘you know what I mean’ ‘like’ ‘by the way’ and all kinds of linguistic props actually weakens the beauty of communication. Once we start branching out into more diverse and expressive language, we can become deliberately poetic in our communications. Here the blending of life art and bardic art is absolute. There’s no reason why the awen can’t flow when we’re talking to a colleague, and it might come in handy whilst attempting to butter up the bank manager! We can talk our druidry, bringing the essence of what we believe into the modes of our communication – peace, beauty, compassion, the desire to nurture and empower. How we talk, or email, or write letters can become a very clear expression of what we value.

At which point, the idea of saying anything off the cuff that we didn’t mean, becomes insane.

What is magic?

I’ve been reading with interest ideas about magic on Cat’s Blog and Red’s Blog this week. Red’s really got me thinking about how we square honourable relationship with magic. Now, what is normally called ‘white magic’ could be described as ‘asking for something nice magic’ while going round cursing people would be ‘black magic’ being horribly simplistic for a moment. But take apart ‘white magic’ and what are we doing? Asking for something we haven’t worked for, maybe something we want and can’t have. Nothing comes without consequence, even prayers for healing. If we all lived forever, magically, this world would not be viable. If we use magic to violate the laws of nature and the natural cycles of life and death, how can we square that with the idea of honourable relationship?

If we pray – let’s imagine that’s for a miracle to save a dying person – we are inviting a deity to look over the idea and, from their more enlightened perspective, figure out whether it’s a good idea. Sometimes the answer to prayer is a ‘no’ which is as well. Humans do not make decisions for the best reasons. We never see the bigger picture, it is inevitably beyond us. Driven by fear, hunger, greed, loneliness and all manner of things, we can and do want things we should not have, that aren’t good for us, and that harm others.

The more I think about magical acts that are basically demanding something be different, the less I like them. I don’t work that way myself, I’ve moved away from ideas of spells. Mostly the transformations I seek to achieve are within myself, where, as Red points out, I have every right to make change.

However, a magical perspective of the world has always been intrinsic to my paganism. I believe in the transformative magic of ritual and bard craft. I’m increasingly fascinated by prayer as a concept. I believe in the power of oath and pledges made to the gods. I also believe that magic flows and exists in the world – if I didn’t, there would be precious little point considering the ethics of using it!

I went down to the Severn this morning as the tide was turning. I watched the muddy curve of the river start to refill with water. There were seagulls, and an egret. The reeds were rustling and talking, the wind soft, the air warm. Everything was very alive, me included. The sheer intensity of presence intoxicated me. I sat for some time, just being there, and a thought began to formulate in my mind.

I don’t want the kind of magic that gives me the power to step outside of nature. I don’t want fireballs to zoom from my hands, I don’t want to live forever. I absolutely reject the magic of high fantasy. But when everything is humming with life, there is magic. Everything is full of it, me included. I am recognising what is. What if I understand magic as the means to enter into a dialogue with everything else? Much of ‘everything else’ couldn’t care less how I feel, or what I want. I would have to listen and give at least as much as I asked for things. There would be scope to learn, to deepen understanding. I might not change what is happening, but I might instead learn why it is happening and through that be better able to work in harmony with it.

I think about the people who firewalk, able to do it because they trust that the fire will not harm them. That’s a kind of magic. I think about asking the hills if I can share in their slowness and peace for a little while, or sitting with a tree and listening. That’s magic too. It has the power to transform. We can change each other by mutual consent. I can give, or receive. I can ask for help or guidance. I’m not asking some external force to obey my will or forcing anything to give me what I want. I may be asking for a favour, a kindness, conscious that ‘no’ is an answer that I might be going to hear. I might also hear ‘here is the thing I want in return’. I would also need to be open to the idea that other things could come to me for help in just the same way. The creature in the canal calling out for rescue. The land that wants litter removing. The air that wants to be clean. Sometimes I’m going to have to say no, too.

I think I’ve been trending this way for a while, between the prayer work and the contemplation of relationship, but between Red’s words yesterday, and the river this morning something has come into focus in my head. I have changed, consentingly, to a magic that has been worked upon me from outside. Red’s magic did not require me to change, but it gave me the opportunity to do so, and from here on, that’s the magic I am dedicated to working with.

Druidic Arts: Slowing and stopping

I’ll start by confessing that, of all the things I’ve flagged up as Druidic Arts, this is the one I struggle most with. I’ve blogged about it before too, but it stands a revisit.

There is so much pressure in modern life to be busy, good little producers and consumers, working very hard to hold up the flagging economies and so forth. In practice this serves the already wealthy, and has the ‘bonus’ effect of keeping most of us running round chasing our tails rather than having the time or energy to really look at what’s going on, where the good stuff is, and what would serve us, the planet and our fellows as opposed to the powerful, affluent few.

The beginnings of the art of slowing down call for stepping away from the things that keep telling us to run harder and faster. Television, and the subtext in advertising are a huge source of this. It means questioning why we feel moved to run so hard, and whether there’s an alternative. Often, there is, but it may take some getting to.

Slowing down and stopping enable us to form deeper relationships with all that we encounter. Rushing through makes deep engagement difficult with any topic, or entity, or place. This bit I do ok with when I make the time for it. What I find harder is resisting the idea that I should be running, all the time. There’s a lot to do, I need to earn a living, there are wrongs to right, battles to fight, miracles needed. I know from experience that running flat out for as long as I can results in burnout, not magical transformation. I also know that resting and thinking gets more done in the longer term – working smarter, and more efficiently pays off, and forward planning enables that.

I lived for a lot of years in a situation where I was under a lot of pressure to perform, deprived of sleep, overloaded with work, and not offered much scope for downtime. I know how it works. The list of things to do is so long, that you don’t dare stop. And the more tired, run down and demoralised you get the harder it is to achieve anything. Our whole culture encourages us to demand more and faster of each other, and not to think about what that really costs.

In the last couple of years I’ve started to study the art of slowness, but I’m very much a novice here. I try to do things the slow way as much as I can – walking and cycling are my main modes of transport. I cook from scratch, wash clothes by hand. This brings a sense of realness to my life. The faster we go, the more unreal it all becomes, our minds and bodies did not evolve to cope with the speed favoured by 21^st century living. Our souls do not thrive at high speeds. I’m working on learning to slow and pause, to stop and gaze, and not to feel the need to push onwards when mind and body are worn out already. I’m also working to support those around me in slowing and taking time off.

I’m less confident about what the more advanced stages of the art of slowness would look like. I assume that a calm, unhurried approach to life would take a person deeper into appreciating and seeking the good stuff, the quality in all things. I think an artist of slowness would have more defence against bullshit and media manipulation, and would better see the big picture and the long view rather than being frantic about the short term. Slowing down and thinking long term would enable enlightened self interest, and be better environmentally. Doing less definitely consumes less, so I think slowness as an art will involve recognition of what is needful, and rejection of what is not. It’s a de-cluttering of life and mind.

In my slowing down, I have learned that it is possible to be happy with very little. Rushing about forever busy makes it harder to appreciate the little things. In the slow lane are all the beauties of nature, all the simplest, most innocent pleasures of the body. There is also the pleasure inherent in calmness. Finding joy in the small and the slow takes me away from the desire to run after the big and shiny, so there’s a process here which, once commenced, should reinforce itself.

From a druid perspective, frenetic human speed takes us away from the rhythms of nature. Trees are slow. Mountains are even slower. We miss the slow voices if we rush, and I do not think the voice of spirit is generally hasty, or able to respond to that five minute gap in the schedule. Slowing down is an art that enables all other Druidic practice, and enhances life.  I shall keep working at it. Slowly.

Floating Madness

Last week there was a blog on Autumn Barlow’s site about the things British Waterways do around boat licensing. I live on a boat, and I’ve spent the last week wondering how much to say openly. So here goes…  I do not like what I see when it comes to BW and their attitude to people who live on boats and I do not think they interpret the law fairly. I also believe that there is a conflict of interests issue here, and that people who benefit financially from a system should not be allowed to police said system as well.

My situation is this. I am paying for a permanent mooring for my boat because British Waterways have told me that I must do so to comply with the laws. I have always moved my boat in accordance with the law, but the rules are vague, and their interpretation is not the same as mine. However, if I used the mooring I’ve been obliged to pay for, I would be breaking the law.

Let me explain. There are no available moorings on this canal that have planning permission to be used residentially. All we have are leisure moorings where people can leave hobby boats when not in use. You can live on residential moorings, legally, all the time, you pay council tax and everything. But we don’t have any of those. So in essence I have been told that I am legally required to pay for something that I cannot use, and do not want.

The only way to go up against this, would be to refuse to take a permanent mooring and wait for British Waterways to take me to court, and then slog it out. Or in other words, my only other option is to gamble with my home, because if I lost, I would lose my home. As I have a child, there is no way I am going to risk his physical or emotional security, so I’m paying up.

I do wonder what’s going to happen when British Waterways becomes The Canal and River Trust. British Waterways has made people homeless in the past and, to my knowledge, has threatened a lot more people with homelessness, threatened to take boats out of the water, and encouraged people who live on boats to seek council housing instead. These are people who own their boats and who live far more independently than they would in a council house scenario, at a time when the system is over burdened anyway. Making that entirely crazy.

In these hard financial times, are people going to put their hands into their pockets to support a charity that spends time and money taking people to court, and making them homeless? To my mind, that is absolutely in conflict with the nature of charity. I’d bet I won’t be alone in thinking that.

With my Druid hat on, the whole scenario raises a lot of issues for me. The Canal and River Trust will be responsible for canals and rivers. That’s a great deal of our water supply and watery infrastructure. It’s a huge environmental consideration as well as covering a lot of heritage and history. For me, there’s a spiritual aspect to the rivers as well. These are things I want to see protected, and things I care about passionately. Personal issues aside, there’s a huge moral dilemma for me here. I want to support the environmental and heritage angle of the Canals and Rivers Trust. But at the same time, I also care about human rights issues. I’m conscious that by speaking up about the treatment of boaters, if I succeed in drawing attention, I will be undermining a charity that should be doing work I believe in. But I want to support a charity that spends money on restoration and conservation, not one that pays people to monitor the movement of boats, and spends money on harassing people, no matter what the legal justification is. To the best of my knowledge, the enforcement department at British Waterways is talking like it expects to be part of the charitable trust.

Laws should be fair and reasonable, complying with one should not push you into breaking another. No one should have to pay for something that they cannot use, that’s just nuts. The breaking of laws and the enforcement of laws is, in my opinion, the business of the police, and not the proper work of a charity. Those who benefit financially if allowed to interpret the laws unchecked, should never be given the power to police the system. There should be no victimless crimes, and how far a boat moves really makes no difference to anyone so long as it moves often and far enough not to violate planning laws. Under no circumstances should a charity be working to make a person homeless. The whole system needs cleaning up.

Druidic Arts: Nurturing

I think that the art of nurturing is one of the most vital, rewarding and under celebrated things a person could set out to do. All of our lives will afford opportunities to develop this as a conscious, deliberate art, and by doing so we enable. A person who loves creativity but does not, for whatever reason, feel moved to create, can adopt nurturing as their art, and through that make the most stunning contributions. Most arts do not happen in isolation. Time, money, resources, space, publicity, feedback are all essential and rare is the aspiring creative person who doesn’t need some of that to come from outside.

Nurturing as an art form is not just about propping up creative people though. Gardening and tree planting are forms of nurturing the land, so is litter picking. Rescuing and healing animals is a nurturing art. Caring for the sick is a nurturing art. So is teaching, running events, library work. Raising children should be held up as an art that requires considerable dedication. No one is ‘just a parent’, if they are making any kind of effort, they are a practitioner of a most complex and demanding art form. Anything that we do that enables others to flourish, is part of the art of nurturing.

Making it more deliberate is not difficult. The easiest place to start is with praise or encouragement for whatever good stuff you see people doing. Be that a cleaning job, a fundraiser or a painting. Just saying ‘that’s brilliant, well done’ will help to sustain someone else in their work. Yoo don’t need pompoms and a tiny skirt to be a cheerleader, but most people need someone to cheer them on, to keep them believing that what they do is worth doing, and is valued. Being a good audience is a skill to nurture, knowing how to listen, how to ask good questions, when to applaud, both in a literal sense and a more metaphorical way.

Without people who create spaces and opportunities, far fewer people can grow or flourish. That might mean an after school club, adult education, running a poetry slam, or an open mike. It takes time, energy and skill to make an event, a class or some other nurturing space go well. One of the measures of having got it right is that people won’t even think about it. They’ll just be noticing all the stuff you’ve put centre stage. Often, to practice nurturing as an art, you need to be willing to stand back stage.

The other important consideration with nurturing in any form, is that you do not dictate the shape. It’s not about creating twenty clones of yourself, or one special person who can actually do what you wanted to do. If you mean to nurture, then those you enable have to be free to be what they are. No point planting potatoes and complaining to them when they do not produce rose flowers. It can be very tempting, with this kind of work, to go too far with the supporting so that it turns into directing, then ordering and demanding. When we nurture, we facilitate. The only thing you can want for yourself is the pleasure of seeing someone else take off, and maybe a little bit of kudos. But if you want to turn them into something specific, the most likely outcomes involves crushing them, destroying their potential or making them hate you. Even the people who turn up and say ‘teach me to do what you do’ will at some point need to take off in their own direction.

This is an art that calls for a lot of letting go, relinquishing desires to be reinforced or propped up by others. And if we do make a safe and nurturing nest for those who come to us, then we have to accept that one day they will need to leave it and strike out for themselves. The whole point of the nest is to get you ready for flying. It can hurt, watching them leave. It can feel like rejection. If they’re truly focused on taking the thing forward, whatever it is, it can feel like being left behind, abandoned. The person who takes up nurturing as their art knows not to cling at this moment. It’s all about taking pride in knowing that you aren’t needed now, and that’s as true for a parent as it is for a spiritual teacher, or someone providing a space to work in.

Nurturing as an art can very readily be practiced alongside other life arts, or the bardic arts, or just as a dedication to encouraging others and being generous with words. It can be a powerful calling in its own right, one that becomes the whole of your life and purpose. Someone who is good at it may make themselves almost invisible, but these are people too, and if you spot them, in the wings, behind the desk, holding it all together and making no fuss, remember that they could use some nurturing too and that this art is as worthy of your celebration as any other you encounter.

Life in the copperage

I remember towards the end of childhood becoming conscious of just how much suffering there is in the world, how much wrong, and how little I could do about it. I was overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, but when I tried to speak, I found my peers resentful, discouraging. Apparently, I was being silly. I never quite learned how to close my eyes and turn away.

There was a period in my life when I did become numb to a lot of things. There is only so much emotion a body can sustain. I think many people assume depression is a form of sadness, but it can go beyond that. Depression can be the exhaustion of spirit, the loss of energy, the going numb that comes from too much grief. Recovering from the ravages of this has meant starting to feel again, feeling too much and too keenly all that is wrong out there. This morning on the news, ten million underfed people In Yemen. If I spent all day, every day, using every resource at my disposal to fight the bad stuff, I’d barely make a scratch in the surface. That can make it tempting to put head in sand, and try to pretend it isn’t my problem.

The sheer weight of available misery and wrong will cripple anyone who tries to go up against it. Just trying timing hunger by the unthinkable number of ten million for a small taster. And that’s just one country, and you won’t be able to imagine even that. Dragging everyone down into grief and powerlessness is not going to fix anything though.

Tom and I did a lot of talking and thinking over the weekend, and came up with a thing, which I am posting below. It is a dedication to improving things, however you do it, wherever you do it, and (we hope) a way of connecting with likeminded souls and finding shared strength to keep banging away at this stuff no matter how crushing the scale of difficulty may seem. Even the smallest gesture to the good is worth something.

 

We are sick to death of bullshit, mediocrity and the omnipresent influence of market forces.

 

What we crave, and are dedicated to, is The Good Stuff that comes from the heart. The Good Stuff is made from love, with soul, it inspires, empowers, makes better. The Good Stuff can make us laugh, free us to cry, get us dancing, weaving, doing. It changes people and enriches life. The Good Stuff is not the exclusive property of any company, religion, philosophy or political party. Identifying as being part of the Copperage, is all about living well and leaving the world better than we found it. This is an assertion for dreamers and idealists, and for people who have had the hope kicked out of them, and the naivety stripped from them, and are willing to have another go anyway.

 

Copperage

 

*We believe that power and resources should be widely distributed, not held by a tiny minority. Enlightened self interest is good.

 

*We are driven by passion, ideals and beliefs to do things we see as inherently worthwhile, and we do these things because we must.

 

*We will support, nurture, encourage, praise and otherwise promote The Good Stuff, wherever and whenever we can.

 

*We consider compassion, humanity and sustainability to be more important than acquiring material wealth far in excess of personal need.

 

*We celebrate creativity. We do not celebrate banality and conformity. We do not want to be told what to like, how to feel, or what to think. Excepting cases of bullshit, our inclinations are towards tolerance. If
no one is being hurt by an activity, people should be free to get on with it. We recognise ‘soul destroying’ as a very significant manifestation of ‘hurt’.

 

If you know yourself to be part of The Good Stuff, sign up, copy this declaration and put it somewhere. Make good stuff happen, and look out for others who are doing this too. Signing up means not only are you living this, but that you are willing to help others who are doing it, where you can.

 

Welcome to the copperage.

 

http://www.facebook.com/#!/groups/332513703488532/?notif_t=group_r2j

Druidic Arts: Looking for wonder

A great deal of how we experience the world comes down to choice. The art of seeking wonder begins with the recognition that we do indeed have a lot of choice about how we experience life and interact with it. There are days when life experience, pain, gloom and stress make the quest for wonder seem hopeless, futile, childish. Part of the art involves steadfastly reminding yourself to bother, remembering that it can be done, and that the doing will nourish you.

Sensing truly and being open to the world is an art in its own right, and I’ve talked about it in a previous blog. If we aren’t letting anything impinge on our awareness, then it is a certainty that wonder will not come in to us from the outside. It is possible to generate feelings of wonder and the numinous from within. Through meditation, prayer, contemplation and imaginative exercises, it is entirely possible to feel a sense of wonder without any reference to anything else. There are times when going within in this way makes a lot of sense. However, there is an escapist quality to it, and it is better, frequently, to deal with external problems. To be a druid is not just to be wandering the inner plains, but to be engaging with the world our bodies move through. One of the dangers of seeking wonder within, is that our inspiration can easily become threadbare over time, and the method ceases to give us anything. Another danger is that we become divorced from consensus reality.

Natural beauty can be an easily available source of wonder, and there’s a great deal of it out there. Even in the most squalid of urban environments, plants strive to grow and creatures still manage to exist. Few environments are entirely sterile. Sometimes those determined, struggling urban plants can be the most heartbreaking and poignant things imaginable. The urban tree is as much a place of peace and refuge as one in a forest.

Watching for the good in others, and giving people the chance to step up and do something remarkable can be part of the quest for wonder. It’s easy to become cynical and remote, but for all the crap out there, humans are capable of amazing, generous, inspired, beautiful, wonder-laden actions. The more carefully protective of ourselves we become, the harder it is to access this. It’s only by speaking of pain that we can invite others to treat us with compassion. It’s only by trusting people that we can give them the chance to prove how worthy they were of that trust.

The art of seeking wonder will sometimes lead us to disappointment. In opening eyes a little wider we may also see things we don’t want to find. In taking risks in interactions and in what we expose ourselves to, we may not always find what we seek, but sometimes we will. Being open to wonder specifically calls for being open to risks as well. Wonders can be overwhelming, shocking, fearful, awe inspiring in the awful sense. That which is wonderful can break down our sense of how reality works, challenge our assumptions, even our sense of identity. There are stories about places that will turn you into a poet, or a madman, and I think this is part of the nature of encountering wonder. Small wonders may be gentle with us, but the big ones might well not be.