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A white moon shining full and bright A silver path between the shores of night Magical beauty beguiling inner sight Welcome to a world of healing, love and light The sun is rising, life giving and bold, Glowing shores of dawn scarlet, rose and gold Breathtaking beauty flooding inner sight. Welcome to a world of full creative light. Iona Jenkins 2024 Following Samhain/All Hallows we entered the dark months. When the clocks went back, I experienced a strange sense of time standing still, a sense of no time, for two days until my body clock adjusted, always surprised to find it was earlier than I thought. These dark months can bring a sense of peace, of cocooning, which in today’s crazy world could be a blessing. And yet, although the daylight hours are short, nature continues to put on dazzling displays of light. I don’t profess to be a photographer, I use the camera on my phone to snap lighting effects that create a sense of wonder for me. I have to act quickly as the light can change in an instant. The magic lies in the moment when I become aware of my surroundings, the sights, sounds and atmosphere of this Welsh landscape I live in. My inner winter does not bring loss. The autumn and Samhain mark a time for letting go of that which is completed or no longer needed. The winter season can evoke images of breath-taking beauty. We can seek the hidden light, turn off the electric lamps, and the TV sometimes, to enjoy silence, or human conversation with the warm glow of candle lanterns on a dark evening. Winter is time of stillness, when the light of moon and stars is dazzling in icy skies, a time when the fire of inspiration heats potions of new ideas. I have a childhood memory of winning a prize for a primary school nature project. It was a Ladybird book with stunning pictures called What to Look for in Winter. I paid more attention to the cold season with its darker months and long nights from that very day. The sun begins its return to the northern hemisphere after the shortest day which marks the Winter solstice on 21st December. This is also part of the magic, the days slowly lengthening bringing birth, growth and new life as we circle towards the spring. There is much chaos in the world right now and people are suffering. Wales is not a war zone right now, so I count my blessings and send out peace. It’s not much, I know, in the current world situation, but as an ordinary human of a certain age it's the best I can do. Let’s see what magic we can find in winter and pass it around as we dance the circle into the next year.
The wheel is turning, The season changing As the door opens and my path goes on To new stars birthing I am dancing the circle Around and around. ... then comes the winter, a time of patience, of waiting, of opening to new growth, as seeds planted in the frozen earth begin struggling to reach the surface. After letting go of all that is worn out we rest, we renew ourselves, taking advantage of this pause, when the earth is still, to store enough energy for new growth with the returning light after the solstice. I find myself slowing down, meditating more, and relaxing with the grey sea outside, rippling or roaring beyond the stark outlines of bare trees on the edge of the cliff, where winter seagulls hide in mist and wail like phantoms. But all this time my heart is ablaze, and vibrant as a robin’s breast, or ruby red and warming as mulled wine. I have learned to love the snow and its deep silence, when stars shine bright and warm in black ice skies above white landscapes so quiet I am lulled into their dreams. I feed visiting birds so they too may live to sing again in Spring. Inner winter is not a sorrowful time whatever may be happening in the world outside. I am aware of the heart fire, heating the angel brew singing its inspiration in the magic cauldron. I locate the winter season in the north with the element of earth on my wheel of the year. Bright white stars in frosty heavens sometimes seem almost attached to me by threads of silver light. Winter is a season that evoke images of breath taking beauty through my inner vision. I learn to seek the hidden light, the lamp of the Archangel Uriel shining in the dark, illuminating the door that leads onwards to sun return and the promise of new life. I welcome it as a friend. The moon has cast a path of light Across the water straight and true From shores of Wales to Somerset In silver streams of peaceful dreams. Taken from introductory poem to chapter 1, page 4, To Sing with Bards and Angels, Iona Jenkins, O-Books 2022 Step into the magic of a creative spiritual journey As a child, playing on my maternal grandparents’ smallholding, or exploring woods and fields around my home, I felt comforted, and protected by a benign presence in nature. Today, as a writer, on the south coast of Wales, that presence still forms a conscious, integral part of my life and inspiration. One full moon winter’s night, I lit a candle lantern by the door of my balcony, facing the sea and English shore. Soon, an otherworldly being formed in my mind’s eye, evoked by the landscape outside, and the moon painting a path of gold, that gradually widened to silver on the night rippling sea. I called this being an angel, my benign presence had assumed a form of light, in the magic of creativity. Upon the luminous path, he appeared serene, tall as a tree, and pearly white with a halo of soft, colour flecked silver. I say he was male, though he exhibited a soft feminine quality, speaking through my heart, like a musical stream, flowing into words from my descriptive Bard’s voice, through pen on to paper. “I am your Creative Wisdom,” the angel said, floating in a circle of candle glow, and pale rainbows. When wisdom is added to the ingredients of any potion of inspiration, be it great or small, so will that potion flow into projects that enhance life on this planet.” The angel’s name was Astariel, and having accepted his offer, to step into the magic of a creative spiritual journey, my life became a poem, a song, a story, as his gentle wisdom lit up the pages of my book. Nectar collecting, the bees are buzzing In lush lavender bushes, purple tumbling Summer scented over grey stone walls The hives are alive and honey making. Breezes flowing through silver birch leaves A turquoise sky with the last golden sunlight In France this time is known as the blue hour Late afternoon, before the sun starts setting I turn my face and thoughts towards the west. Iona Jenkins 2022  A daily walk is an opportunity for awakening and refining the senses. This not only intensifies my experience, but often triggers a heartfelt expression of artistic inspiration. Since this awakening is inclined to light up both heart and mind, I often refer to these rambles as Wisdom Walking. I am forever delighted and surprised by the many new impressions I receive in familiar territory, at varied times of day, and throughout each season. In summer I frequently pass by beautiful lavender bushes, so lush with flowers cascading over a grey stone garden wall. The scent comes first, strong yet soothing, for these flowers may be used to make sleep pillows and bath infusions. The purple colour flows soft through my eyes, nerve calming, clearing softening. Yesterday there were only five or six bees, but today has brought a hive, swarming over the tiny flowers which are now almost at the end of their season. Growing such wonder bushes in gardens helps to preserve a dwindling bee population, which deserves and needs all the help it can get. I make my way through a local park, where I open my eyes for the first time, to a small group of silver birch trees. I have often passed this way before without really registering their presence, but today it is almost as though they are inviting me to enter their grove.
Walking with awakened senses, we enter into a relationship with the local landscape that nourishes us, we find richness in our environment in all its green seasonal magic, we discover our part in its legend, its life, its song. Moving mindfully, I slow down, awakening to beauty and hidden mysteries. Following my Creative Spirit, I find my place in the world. I am a storyteller, a dream maker All my tales are a rich woven cloth Of mystical thread I spin from gold With dancing feet in the music of Earth I will sing you her life song of passion As my fingers draw down a web of stars To light her chalice the sky reflecting Deep cauldron of plenty overflowing This potion of peace and magic growing Bright flowers blooming colour scented. Iona Jenkins "To begin my poetic journey, I connect to inspiration through my senses, from which I develop awareness of my place within my surroundings and the influence they have on me as a creative being. Our early ancestors would have used their senses both fully and spontaneously like any other creature, because survival would have depended on their ability to do so. Today, however, in our modern technological world we can order goods and services in seconds on a mobile phone. We are now consumers instead of hunters and gatherers. We have many creature comforts, but alas, we are also a people with increasing mental health, environmental, and social problems. So why are we not satisfied? Why does happiness elude so many? In losing our connection to the Sacred Feminine, we have gradually been losing connection to the planet which sustains us - our mother the Earth. We have come to believe that we are separate, more important, far above the rest of creation. In creating too many boundaries, we avoid the oneness of our reality, and we are lonely as a result. We could learn much from ethnic civilisations living in communities with powerful links to the natural world and a great respect for the land that nourishes them." Iona Jenkins, poem and extract from p.58 and 59 To Sing with Bards and Angels, O-Books 2022 Embracing the Earth with respect, we can heal the fear that keeps us isolated, regaining our balance we can reach for the stars. It is then, we may also discover them shining within, illuminating all those deep space places, and singing soft in the language of angels.
May all beings find relaxation and connection in the warmth and light of summer. Iona |
Iona Jenkins
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