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Archive for the ‘The Magical Forest’ Category

What do you think of when you hear the word magic? Spells, wands, potions, Harry Potter? Something worked by witches in secret rites, or that exists only in stories? Nothing to do with your own day to day life…
Really?

In my last post, I wrote of enchanted places; places where the line between the worlds of men and spirits is blurred and where the air shimmers with magic…Not a remote, dusty textbook magic, or a sparkly, frothy Disney magic, and not on-line magic-school magic! It’s not a magic that you ‘learn’. It’s a magic you already know…the most powerful magic there is…The magic of Gaia, Mother Earth.

Living in a forest, wrapped in the cloak of Nature, the magic infuses everything. You join in the dance of creation and destruction, death and rebirth, ride the ever turning wheel from Spring to Summer, Summer to Autumn, Autumn to Winter and back again to Spring.

Autumn… « The forest is aquiver with a wild, raw energy; the air heavy with the scent of over-ripe blackberries, early leaf mulch and the deep, potent tang of mushrooms. My goats are capering in the orchard with reckless abandon, drunk on fermenting cider apples…And the deer rut is about to begin. »

Winter…  « One of those jewel bright, sparkling days of winter, when the world emerges into the morning light in high definition; The sort of day where the air seems so extraordinarily pure and clear, that when you take a deep breath and fill your lungs, you feel as high as a kite! »

Spring… « Tiny wisps of cloud drifting dreamily in a sky of forget-me-not blue…Hawks wheeling over the hay meadow… The scent of lilac, honeysuckle and freshly cut grass…Shards of spring green light dappling the forest floor…Wood anemones, celandine and campion…a chorus of joyous mistle thrushes, golden orioles and wood pigeons… »

Summer… « A steamy, sultry 34° in the shade. The birds and crickets are singing sybaritic barcaroles, butterflies come with velvety kisses to drink from my skin, and the scent of roses hangs languidly in the air. » 

 

Stop awhile and listen to Nature, listen to her heart beating, her voice in the wind and in the songs of the birds…

 

The beauty of our Earth transcends words. Just trying to get my head around a fraction of it, I feel utterly overwhelmed…And then I look up at the sky, the stars and imagine the infinity of beauty in the Universe. Magic… The greatest magic of all. 

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Is there such a thing as an enchanted place?…A place touched by magic, where the veil between this world and the realm of the Spirits is gossamer thin? Have you ever been somewhere which feels different? Maybe you can’t put your finger on why this is, you just sense something…magical.
Or perhaps you’ve felt it not in a place, but in a time… the feeling you get as a small child on Christmas Eve, when the air is heavy with an almost tangible magic.
Or has it been in a book, in words which have transported you to a place that has felt more real than your mundane life?
Words, time, place… Three dimensions of magic.
This post is about the latter, the genius loci, the magic of the place. Stonehenge, Machu Picchu, the Pyramids, Glastonbury…Atlantis?…words that conjure up a frisson of memory, places where the veil is thin.
I live in one of these places. You may not have heard of it… It’s a place that shimmers with magic. In the coldest, greyest of days, the rain sweeps in across the rugged cliffs of Finistère, carrying the memories of the wild Atlantic reaches. In the balmy summer days, the forest shimmers beneath a haze of dragonflies and butterflies, the scent of rose and honeysuckle hangs lazily in the air.
My enchanted forest…

The Roman poet Lucan, writing in around 60AD, describes a numinous, magical forest, full of ominous happenings, in Gaul.

Armorica; a vast, primordial forest, in the far N/W of France; a land of enchantment, of magical fountains and mysterious lakes, standing stones and dolmens, of myths and legends, fairies, giants, sorcerors and druids. This is the home of Viviane, the enchantress, the Lady of the Lake, the realm of Merlin and Morgan le Fey…And of course, Asterix!

It is also my home.

Those of you of sceptical disposition will laugh…'”There is no such thing as dragons/fairies/spirits”…

I throw down the challenge! Follow this blog for one year and tell me at the end of that year whether you still think the same!

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My first blog post! Here goes……….

This blog will be about my books. And about writing. And about being a writer… or rather, my experience of being a writer. So…it’s actually about being a forest dwelling, Pan-loving, hermit-alchemist writer.
There will be dragons, and nature Spirits…Hedge hags and undines…Magic, spells, potions, fairytales, animals (lots of animals), trees (lots of trees)…and green/eco things, the deer rut, golden orioles, ley lines, stars…and more dragons…….

This is me. ↓

I was born in England in 1967. After graduating from Oxford University with a degree in Oriental Studies, I worked for a while in Europe and Asia, in noisy, crowded, bellicose cities, turning gold into more gold….Concrete and electromagnetic white noise instead of trees and the hum of bees…Striplights and chemical air freshener instead of sunlight and the scent of herbs…

I escaped!

I now live in the middle of the ancient and magical Armorican Forest in France, weaving stories, herding words, rescuing animals, growing giant vegetables, hunting the Green Lion and whispering to Dragons.

This is where I write…↓

These are some of my assistants…↓

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