Once, you could hear
Sheep munching grass
Half a mile away.
Now the soundscape
Is full of mechanical sounds:
Auditory assault.
We have lost the music of the world:
Birdsong, animal sounds
The wind in the trees.
Birds have to sing louder
To be heard over the sound of cars.
Whale song is interrupted by ships.
The singing will never be done,
But no one can hear it when
we have lost the music of the world.
Yvonne Aburrow
8:19 am, 2 May 2022
See the world as a rabbit sees it.
Wide angle view,
Not straight ahead
As a predator sees,
But sidelong, as prey animals see.
Long shadows,
Tall grass.
Noting every hiding place.
Ready to bolt
At the first sign
Of predators.
Each breath taken
Short and shallow.
Darting from shelter
To shelter.
Grass here,
Lettuce there.
Sun is warm,
Earth is kind.
Yvonne Aburrow
7:50 am, 28 April 2022
Inspired by the phrase “three large rabbit-breaths of air” in the poem My Weather by Jane Hirshfield
If you hold a shell up to your ear
Then you can hear
The oceans in your blood.
If you stand or sit or lie
Then you can feel
The earth’s crust in your bones.
If you focus on your breath,
Then you can sense
The air that gives us life.
If you touch your belly’s curve
Then you caress
The fire that lives within.
If you know that these are sacred
Then your body knows
You are the Earth and the Earth is you.
Without the oceans, trees,
And birds and bees,
There is no Earth, there is no me.
The Earth is sacred,
The Earth gives us life
There is no planet B.
Yvonne Aburrow
7:20 am, 22 April 2022 (Earth Day)
Inspired by the phrase “I am the Earth and the Earth is me” in Earth Day by JANE YOLEN.
I haven’t done a “notable and quotable” for a while. I’ve been a bit busy making YouTube videos and promoting the second editions of my books, Dark Mirror and The Night Journey. But I spotted some great posts and thought they were worth sharing in case you missed them.
Continue readingFollowing up on my previous post about the tree outside my window, here are some photos of the tree in the summer.
I realized that the reason I didn’t take pictures of the tree last summer was because of the insect screen on the window.
We’ve taken up kayaking. We bought a kayak on Bob’s birthday, and took it out that weekend.
Since we haven’t been able to go anywhere at weekends during the lockdown, we’ve been very busy in the garden. We’ve also seen lots of birds (cardinals, robins, a woodpecker, chickadees, and mourning doves) and squirrels (both black and grey) in the garden.
It’s Earth Day today, and the significance of it being in the middle of a pandemic, when Nature is getting a brief respite from the depredations of industry and big oil, has not been lost on people, I hope.
My first guest column at The Wild Hunt.
I have been anxious for months, years even. I have watched with growing horror the rise of right-wing populism, the melting of the icecaps, the burning of Australia, the beginnings of wars over water and resources, the seemingly inexorable destruction wrought by climate change. The protests of Fridays for Future and Greta Thunberg and Extinction Rebellion gave me some cause for optimism, but it is also obvious that governments have not been doing enough to turn the economy around to stop the production of carbon emissions. So when everyone suddenly swung into action to deal with the coronavirus crisis, it gave me some hope that perhaps now the needful actions to deal with climate change (many of which, it turns out, are quite similar to the actions needed to flatten the curve of coronavirus transmission) would seem doable. It also feels like now everyone else is as anxious as me.
Continue reading at The Wild Hunt.
If you enjoyed this post, you might like my new book, Dark Mirror: the Inner Work of Witchcraft.
Dowsing for Divinity 