This is my second cycle of Wild Wisdom School year one, which for me and a few others also runs alongside year two. This means there is a double helix pattern that unfolds itself through the year; one month in the time span of year one – meeting themes for a second time – and the next in the time span of year two – meeting themes afresh. However, each weekend with year one feels very different to the previous time because one year later the ears that hear are different ears! In Ancient Egypt this week, our story was of the goddess Isis and her consort Osiris, and our portal into this mythology was through the Biblical mythology of Dinah, Asenath and Joseph*. Last time I heard this story, I was in the beginnings of a beautiful relationship, this time I was in the endings of this relationship. Last time, the Biblical portal was familiar but not close to me, this time the story of Dinah was embedded in my heart after having read Anita Diamant’s telling in “The Red Tent”. These differences in my being direct the focus of my attention in the story. On hearing the story last year, what moved my heart most deeply was the image of Isis crying tears of grief for the loss of her love Osiris, and later tears of joy for his return. Her tears fell to the dry and cracked ground until the waters of the river Nile began to swell, and the land became fertile and full of life once again. This image holds so many layers of truth, revealing (in Sam’s words) “the power of love to restore, heal and rebirth that which is lost, wounded or broken…”
This year, I was so moved and gripped by the story of Dinah and her daughter Asenath, that when we entered the story of Isis I found myself stubbornly not moving on, but rather dwelling for longer with Dinah. In the Bible, Dinah is the only daughter of Jacob and Leah; Jacob being the son of Isaac and Rebekah, Isaac the son of Abraham and Sarah. Like other female characters, there is very little emphasis on Dinah’s story in the Bible, but people like Anita Diamant have dug her up and put flesh to her name. In Sam’s telling, I returned to her passionate story; from her birth to her first blood to the bloody murder of her husband, and then to the story of her daughter Asenath (who in The Red Tent is actually a son). I am reminded of how dynamic and alive story is; never do I hear the same story in quite the same way.
Sacred Icons painted by Sam
After lunch – a feast as always – we moved into the studio and into a different way of being with the story through Sacred Art. Each with a patch of papyrus and some acrylic paint, we painted symbols and motifs from the myth of Isis and Osiris. We were guided by Sam into the practice of Sacred Art, something she’s been exploring at the Princes School of Traditional Arts (see her icon drawings above). She advised us that “Sacred Art isn’t about what you produce; it’s about what’s going on inside you during the process”. So I slowly felt into which motif I wanted to paint, and it was the Eye of Horus that caught my painting hand. I entered deeply this symbol through painting it, and to paint on the material used at this time in history was very cool. I am certainly no painter, but painting this symbol with such attention and sacred intent, I found something of a love for painting that is very unfamiliar to me! I even loved what I managed to produced, which again is an unfamiliar feeling when it comes to artwork.
Our collection of papyruses, with my Eye of Horus in the forefront.
Our ceremony today was short and simple since we were all a bit too caught up in our pieces of papyrus! But a ceremony it was nonetheless; including sharing in collaborative communion with Jan’s Orange and Ginger vodka, contemplatively appreciating each other’s artwork, and exchanging in hugs. Four weekends on, there is a definite felt sense of love and depth in our Wild Wisdom vessel, and so the journey in the wild seas of the Western Mysteries continues…
*This is a speculative association between the Biblical myths and earlier myths and is based on the location and time period that Dinah is thought to have lived.
Our day started in glorious Spring sunshine and we spent some time sitting in the garden exploring our response to the season. Together, we created a wonderful word portrait which reflected all the many facets of Spring’s energy; we found ourselves full of laughter and mischief, and our word portrait concluded with a big, joyful “YES” to the returning life force in the land around us and in ourselves.
As I reflect on our conversations I am aware how this work is helping me tune in to the rhythms of the turning wheel of the year, and how that awareness enriches my spiritual practice. At Ostara, we reached a point where light and dark were in equal balance and we could feel the stirrings of new life in the earth. In the Easter story, we contemplated that new life as resurrection and transformation. And now, as we move towards Beltane and Pentecost the light of the sun strengthens and I know we have reached the place on the wheel where the sun is bright enough to reach into all the dark corners of my life, encouraging an expansiveness which allows the seeds planted in the dark to grow and flourish.
Opening up the dark corners, doing some spring-cleaning, is not always a comfortable experience. In fact, it is sometimes deeply UNcomfortable. So I walk outside and spend some time simply being in nature, and it gives me comfort and courage. The plants and the birds and the creatures in my little corner of Devon respond to the growing light with instinct, with purpose and with what feels to me like joy. They don’t fear the light just as they do not fear the dark: they live in harmony with the rhythm of the turning wheel and do what needs to be done with the changing seasonal energies. The garden is a wise mentor!
And, sitting in Juliette’s lovely garden on Sunday, I was aware of something else that was burgeoning with as much energy as the rising sap – a growing sense of our community. The group, held beautifully but gently by Sam, has deepened in trust and mutual intimacy; in response to that I feel myself changing and I see others being affected too. I am finding the experience wonderful and moving, and I realize how much I need to be part of a spiritual community to grow as an individual; there are many times when I need and want to be alone, but I do not have to be lonely. Ecclesiastes has some lovely words about about friendship:
“Two are better than one…….For if they fall, one will lift up the other; but woe to one who is alone and falls and does not have another to help.”
It is good to know that although I may fall, there will be another to help. If I were painting a word portrait it would include “honesty, acceptance, humour, simplicity, help, compassion, witness….and cake”.
I have to mention the cake. On the previous day, we had looked at the myth of Isis and Osiris who are two of the Ennead – a group of nine deities in Egyptian mythology. On Sunday, I brought a cake to share which was made (quite coincidentally) with nine different fruits. I don’t know whether it was the fact that it was an Ennead cake, but we certainly tucked into it with childlike delight and Spring’s youthful appetite.
The Ennead Cake
Yes, there was definitely a lot of fun in the air. After lunch Clare led us through a gloriously energizing exercise in which we created a soundscape to welcome and honour the energy of water. After that, in the quiet afternoon time, people were invited to use lace and fabric and sequins to make watery art work and we ended up with our usual variety of creative offerings, including a beautiful Bridie doll.
We ended the day with a simple, happy ceremony.
Writing this journal entry a few days later, I am watching the busy busy birds securing their territories through song, building their nests and finding food for the early chicks. I am aware that there is a still place inside me witnessing it all, and that the still place was deeply nourished by the weekend. Gratitude.
The cityscape; Costa coffee, Marks and Spencer, KFC, Paperchase, people in black coats and shopping bags walking determinedly….This could be anywhere couldn’t it? Any city in the Uk…but look a little closer, just scratch the surface and there’s more. Here, take my hand, let me guide you.
There’s a little alley way just opposite M&S, now the street is cobbled and Exeter Cathedral unexpectedly rises up at the end of the alley. There is a gathering of people, quite a mixture; men in ties, young women with babies, women in big boots and bright flowers pinned to their coats. It’s an Easter procession. The Wild Wisdom gang gathered here, mingling easily with the local church goers. We followed the procession around the close and in through the main entrance to the cathedral. I felt a prick of tears in my eyes as I was handed a palm cross by a smiling woman and the magnitude of a public ceremony opened before me. Choirs of singers on either side of me ( all boys, I sadly noted) but flowers and great high arches and hundreds of people. It wasn’t what we’d planned but somehow we’d been swept along in the tide and we went with it. We were treated to a theatrical enactment of the Easter story, read from the Gospels but by different voices, with passion and vibrancy. I felt that I’d been given an unexpected gift!
It’s getting a little chilly in the Cathedral now, so come with me. We’re going to the museum…you haven’t been there before? It’s wonderful! You can journey through the landscapes of our wild wisdom course! First we started at Pre- history, touching rocks and watching videos, then into the realm of the Celts before jetting off to Ancient Mesopatamia and Egypt. All of these historys are displayed sensitively and in a way that is easy to digest. After lunch in the museum café we made our way up the busy high street, past John Lewis (lovely café at the top where you can look right across the city and into the hills, but not for today, dear traveller through time) where the city walls once stood and onto the slightly scruffy street of St Sidwells. On your left you’ll see what looks like a modern church but follow the path past the Yew trees and if you are lucky the little chapel will be open. For our gathering I’d made arrangements to ensure that we could get into the chapel as it felt like a key part of our pilgrimage.
Susan, who works at the St Sidwell centre, as the church now is, showed us around and told us some of the history. Then she left us and we had the chapel all to ourselves. There was a moment of hush as everyone took in the enormous, vibrantly stained glass window. Then I told the story. It’s a story that has haunted and puzzled me since I first moved to Exeter, fifteen years ago. And it is vividly told in the window; a young girl, a jealous step mother, fields of corn, a sickle and a beheading. In the story as the girl is beheaded standing there in the corn field, a fresh water spring bubbles up in the place where her blood hits the earth. The water will not be covered and the people are scared. They go and stand on the city walls (John Lewis – remember!) and they watch and after three days Sidwell picks up her own head and walks to the place of the church (where we are) and puts her head back onto her shoulders!
Although I’ve told the story many times, there is a poignany telling it, here in the chapel to this group of people. Sam points out the Christ figure at the top of the window, looking down on the scene – he’s green! Like the Osiris, who we met in ancient Egypt! We discuss the Devon tradition of ‘the crying of the neck’. Very thoughtfully we leave the chapel and in silence make our way down to the site of the ancient well (which is currently being restored). When we get there the atmosphere changes; there is a lot of humour and a lightness that stays with us as we walk back through the city centre, giggling and a naughtiness that seems to dance in and out of the regular shops.
Our last stop was St Pancras church. The doors shut, right in the middle of the Guildhall shopping centre, and it’s quiet…so quiet, like stepping into another world. There is another Green Christ in here! A crucifixion but surrounded by very green vines. Janet told us a Green Man story, rich in myth and legend, folklore weaving in and out of history, the story of the true cross and many others. We finished with a blessing, I remember it as a blessing of seeds, which Jan had sent for us. It fitted so perfectly into our day – sacred synchronicity!
As Beth and I walked away from St Pancras, arm in arm, we reflected on our carefully planned day. We’d had fun creating the day together, that had been one story, and now here another story had beautifully and wisely unfolded.
Then she left us and we had the chapel all to ourselves. There was a moment of hush as everyone took in the enormous, vibrantly stained glass window. Then I told the story. It’s a story that has haunted and puzzled me since I first moved to Exeter, fifteen years ago. And it is vividly told in the window; a young girl, a jealous step mother, fields of corn, a sickle and a beheading. In the story as the girl is beheaded standing there in the corn field, a fresh water spring bubbles up in the place where her blood hits the earth. The water will not be covered and the people are scared. They go and stand on the city walls (John Lewis – remember!) and they watch and after three days Sidwell picks up her own head and walks to the place of the church (where we are) and puts her head back onto her shoulders!
