Spring Equinox Invitation
Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving.
It doesn't matter.
Ours is no caravan of despair.
come, even if you have broken your vows
a thousand times.
Come, yet again ,
come ,
come.
– Rumi
In spite of everything human and messy and at times dispiriting, Imbolc's sap continues to rise, buds are breaking open, and green shoots are emerging triumphant. Soon the spring equinox will be upon us – the year turns.
In dark times, let there be singing, let there be ways of coming together, let there be life.
Let's connect and celebrate together at Beech Hill on Sat 22nd March at 2pm (for 3pm start).
WHAT: You're invited to join us for a little land-based ceremony, some council (sharing in circle), some invitational time on the land, plus food, songs, stories, poems, & jokes around the fire. Reconnecting, rubbing shoulders, and rekindling the culture of interbeing.
WHEN: Sat 22nd march, arrivals from 2pm (for prompt 3pm start)
WHERE: Beech Hill, 295 Northwich Rd, CW8 3AN
WHAT TO BRING:
• Warm clothes (maybe a hot water bottle?), waterproofs, & a sleeping bag (if staying overnight),
• a song, story, joke, or poem! (warmly encouraged but not actually obligatory).
• Also any instruments you might have....
• Contributions of food to share (or snacks and firewood) are also super welcome.
NEXT STEPS:
• Please let me know if you can make it, and if you'd like a bed :) if you can't... hopefully see you at the next one! (TBC)
A Litany for Survival
For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
futures
like bread in our children’s mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours;
For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother’s milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.
And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid
So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive.