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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.
Janet Maika’i Rudolph from Feminism and Religion reviews To Sing with Bards and Angels
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. |
Iona Jenkins
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