We are very slowly beginning to edge our way out of winter slumber, with one foot in the stillness and the other in the mists of potential of 2026. We won’t speak too loudly of plans yet, but I will begin the year with a short reflection of last week. (Happy Georgian Calendar New Year, loves).
As I gathered candles and charged up torches last week, I wondered what the land was trying to tell us. Only thirty minutes previously, I was bundled on the sofa in a blanket when my phone gave me a government warning. I felt that familiar feeling of 2020 - Dread as I looked at my phone screen.
‘Red Weather warning - 100mph winds with a warning of danger to life’
With my husband away, I suggested an early tea and showers, hot water bottles, etc. I planned to get everything done before she hit us. A couple of hours later, with no power, no street light and a howling wind, I sat in bed by candlelight with my journal and listened.
For me, listening isn’t a new thing; I listen to the birds, I’ve been known to talk to a tree and follow a hare across the forest if it requests it. As much as I have things to say, listening to nature and the land is something I have considered a part of my everyday life.
Over the years, I’ve stood on friends’ farms and named trees, only for them to look up the meaning of the chosen name later and realise it is somehow symbolic or connected to the tree or the land in which it is rooted. I had no clue, I simply heard the name and gave it voice. I’ve declared snow due to the stillness in the air and the rhythm at the front of my head, and many times I have shared the words of a plant to be looked at as if I am a crazy woman who lives in la la land. “Poor Charlie, they must think, she has always been searching for a connection so desperately?” You don’t always need to hear the words; sometimes their face says it all.
The truth is, I never went looking for anything. This connection never left me since childhood. I didn’t seek out this lost connection. But you can. And I believe this isn’t only what the land wants, but she also needs to be heard.
People call it whimsy or see it as fanciful to believe everything has a feeling. But it is so much more than embracing your inner Alice in Wonderland.
Anthropomorphism (noun) - The attribution of human characteristics or behaviour to a god, animal, or object.
Ceryn taught me that this isn’t a new or childish thing. In ancient cultures, people have continued to view all of nature as a thinking, living, feeling being, rather than a game a child plays; it’s a sacred skill. And I often see it as a connection through the heart that I am so glad I have never lost.
Back to last week and the storm - I wondered why we only pause to listen when nature is raging at our door or when her expression prevents us from going about our day? Has the modern world retrained our brains to believe we no longer need this connection? Has social media played an attempt to feed this craving? Are we simply swept into the rush of a modern timetable and now believe we don’t have the time?
Various storms are happening at the moment, here in Cornwall, they were in weather form, but there are political storms, storms of patriarchal control and a thousand storms in between the ones we know or hear of.
Winter is, in fact, a stormy time; the dark clouds and the grey mornings remind us so, and yet this thread of thought keeps bringing me back to the question - Why do we only listen when the storms are loud?
This is where voice work begins - In listening. When we avoid listening, we often find the things we are avoiding come to us in a storm rather than an icy winter breeze. This week’s reminder is to listen to the quiet storms calling. Acknowledge the whispers from inside yourself and recognise the itches of the last flakes of skin needing to be shed.
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Whispers from the future - Hear the call and come with…
The first circle this year will be held in March. We will have limited space for the one-off group voice activation. This is via Zoom. The website is shedding her layers from last year, so all further info will be sent out nearer the time. It is still winter after all.
Secondly, there are now very few places left for our final Glastonbury workshop. This is a weekend of land connection and activation. Following on from this, PEW will be taking our workshops on tour. I am sworn to secrecy on this, but if anticolonialism is your thing. (It should be everyone’s thing, but you know what I mean). Then keep your eyes peeled for early info because we are on a mission! If you feel the pull for this year’s Glastonbury, there is a payment plan and all that jazz here.
Finally, the winter playlist has been the most popular yet. I really should put it on another platform. However, this is year one, and we will have to work in between the deconstruction of the existing structures. It’s on Spotify for those of you who want some music for your musings.
Before we know it, Spring will be here, but for now, sending you oceans of love. Keep your bodieswarm and your hearts open.
Oceans Of love
Cx
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