14th June 2015

Rhythms within us, in movement around us and in the patterns in nature..
&
Wild flowers..
Poem: Perspective without any point in which it might vanish
by Jane Hirshfield from her book The Beauty.
Each dil picked one flower as long as there were many, to bring to the Barn after our hour amongst the flowers. Flowers chosen were common sorrel (male & female), yellow rattle, red campion, oxeye daisy. Using The Observer Book of Wild Flowers 1965

May 9th 2015

May 9th 2015

Jo's words:
Contemplating bereavement.
DiL at Mwnt and the Witches Cauldron, Pembrokeshire. Wales.
In memory of Laura’s Dad and in celebration of wild flowers.

12 April 2015

Soundscape

Bee:

We surrendered to sound.  Wide open field of listening then a tuning in and back out again, ears pressed against trees and earth, responding with our bodies. Other creatures hearing ourselves.

Awash in the pine sea
finger waggling, body jerking jazz dialogue with a bird

22nd February 2015

'Pine' 

poem by Clare:

the tree takes its death slowly

I am sheltered under a tree that has not finished falling

earth hangs, thread -roots over head, not under feet

I am under the avalanche of torn apart mud lava 

view changed to ground level, skin level, soil

I hold a fallen tree on my back, cannot hold this fall

a beech blanket, flesh open to air for the first time

I lie under a fallen tree leaving 

if it broke now I would die

a hidden earthing

Words by Sophia

Thank you all for sharing your giggles, movement, ice, badger bracken, skipping, fence demolishing, dances, food stories. I made us all the sap ointment,  so Christa could take hers home back to Holland.

Hazels  swaying  high and tall

my body reflecting the motion

of wind taking the whispering 

till I can' t feel my own dance

just the to and fro

and softly back into pause

with grass icescape ice sky

wet bark fragility

7th December 2014

Birds

In order to see birds it is necessary to become part of the silence.

heavenly bodies are nests of invisible birds

Clare writes:

a response to the new shooting of birds at Bunces Barn, we walked with much time watching, listening and finding a way to be with birds, arrived in strong sun with the magic of presence to unfold the beauty inherent in the place. Then Yumino asked us to work with the image of the internal organs and the throat to imagine how the sounds were made and how to do that through the body, eyes closed, then we drew closer with these and worked together, then in magnificent autumn gold sun, we flew like birds in movement.

Trees 12 October 2014

Sophia's photos and poem

The silver birch

Tall, elegant gentle swaying  

Delicate leaves, nerve endings                                          

quiver                                                                                                                   

Roots, deep down feeding soil                                          

White bark healing skin                                               

limber

Jamie's writing

Like a butterfly in free fall a single leaf takes the plunge and separates from the mother tree - a tall beech.  The suggestion on the breeze that now is the time to make that fluttering journey rolling and floating down to the ground, that earthy resting place surrounded by her cousins, nestling down, welcome in this bed of many. The sense of self drifting away as she settles.