A Speech of Birds

A Speech of Birds

I went out for a wonderful walk this weekend. It was organised by Victoria Field who runs The Poetry Practice. We had a guided walk by two RSPB officials through an area of Blean Woods and stopped along the way to listen to birdsong, connect to the place and practice some writing. The wind blew away a lot of the bird song, but we did manage to hear a Wren, Robin, Greater Spotted Woodpecker, Blackcap and Great Tit.

 

Catkins, soft and pliable compared to the strong oak trunks.

The weather was bright and sunny, but a chill wind blew through and kept us more active and walking to try and keep warm than staying still, writing and being contemplative.

Being in the wood.

Victoria calls the project she is working on ‘A Speech of Birds’, it is a celebration of the Blean through poetry and creative writing.

It was a delight to be in the woods with other likeminded people, really looking, listening and feeling our way. The stopping time which was inserted into a large circular walk felt like a gift.

 

Walking together through the wood.

At these points we were able to experience the woods just a little deeper. At one point we were asked to note twenty observations. We had walked into a glade and stopped and sat, out of the bitter wind and looked, listened and felt where we were.

The space between, a clearing in a wood

The calm silence

before the wind blows once again

Reminding us of the changeable season we are in

Sitting in the glade, writing.

I realised then that this is very similar to sketching a place. When I sketch, I look with more depth into the subject, I capture far more of that moment than when I take a photograph. I suppose this is being mindful, both writing and sketching something specific allows for a deeper observation of the subject.

We contemplated birch trees with bar(k)code musings...

Mindful Writing

I recognise that similarly, the difference between taking a photograph and sketching is also the same of being aware and commenting on your surroundings when walking and writing about your observations.

A single beech leaf.

Being mindful encourages me to fully be there in that moment noting, not just the shape of a leaf but its lightness of form, the irregularities of its surface and the tiny movement as it hangs singularly on the branch, being blown by the cold wind.

Stubborn leaves quiver

Cold chill some wind picking up

Birds sing merrily

Standing in one place

This was one of the subtitles from last week’s blog, it actually fits well into this one too, and so I shall leave it there, standing still amongst new text, experiences and observations.

The Yew and Beech 'danced' together.

We often need a constant; something still that we move around, it can be a partner, a friend, a specific place or many other things. We each have our own. I see these things as landmarks in our own worlds. The Street in Whitstable is one of mine.

The Street, tide out for the Supermoon.

It is a constant, it weathers all storms, it may disappear completely at high tides but there is always a feature in the sea, a trace of its shape formed by the currents that are created by its form as it lies submerged, waiting to be exposed again at the next low tide.

A long way to walk.

Unfortunately, the weather here last week for the solar eclipse was not conducive to fully appreciate the event. The sky was overcast, its colour a deep grey that got deeper and heavier as the light dimmed. People had gathered expectantly on the slopes at Tankerton and then as they wandered off I noticed the sky feel less heavy and that is when I realised it was over, that must have been it, the eclipse had passed.

 

Looking towards the West.

It was a very different experience to the eclipse I had witnessed in 1999, that day had been bright with a cloudless blue sky. We had constructed a viewing box to ‘see’ the eclipse and the image was amazingly clear. But what I remember most was that as the sky darkened the birds stopped singing. It went quiet and cold. That was my overriding memory. A tiny glimpse of what the world would be without the sun and that was a shock.

The evening of the solar eclipse had promised to show us the Supermoon which had blocked out the sun, earlier in the day. We went down to The Street to view it, but again the cloud was so thick and low that it was impossible to even see where it could be in the sky. But, what a surprise! The tide was way out, so far out that when we walked out to the end of The Street it took a long time to get there.

 

Strange interference on the water surface.

The water to the left of The Street looked like the old fashioned coloured pixels on a television screen. The sea glowed with muted colours of the sun set, but the surface of the water looked like it was ‘crackling’ with interference. I have never seen this phenomenon before, so I was able to end the day with another new Street memory to add to my existing collection. 

The Blean

‘Blean’s speciality is that it was the woodland attached to a holy city.’ Cites Oliver Rackham in his foreword to ‘The Blean, The Woodlands of a Cathedral City.’ The Blean is large, over 11 square miles, and ancient. 

In a couple of days I have booked to attend another event for the Speech of Birds project, again organised by Victoria. This writing workshop will be held indoors this time, so I will wear less layers and so will hopefully be able to use my arms more efficiently!

The cold wind on my face

Watching others hankered down

Against the cold, writing

Furiously with cold fingers

into favourite notebooks

We will be looking at prose and poems relating to the Blean and writing in response. I look forward to that, exploring the Blean through writing and using my experience from Saturdays walk to really get to know the place better.

Woodland ants waking up.

 PS. the poetry, haiku and observations are my own and unedited. I am sure they would benefit from some more work; there is certainly room for improvement, but as 'memory sketches' for the day, they serve me well.

Standing in One Place

Standing in one place

I feel this is what I need at the moment. To be still and take in all that I can see. I have a few local favourite places to walk, the one that best provides a point to stand in one place is at the end of The Street. I have written about The Street many times in this blog and in my previous one named, www.thesaltwayfarer.blogspot.co.uk

The Street, exposed on a low Spring tide.

The Street is situated off the North coast of Kent at Whitstable; it is a natural shingle bank that emerges at each low tide. The first few days of this week must have been Spring tides as The Street was exposed more than usual.

The Street from onshore.

It is at these times that it is even more magical to walk out onto it and savour the views. You can look further out to sea, towards the historic WW2 Maunsell forts and the modern wind-farm or turn around and see the land from an angle mostly enjoyed by sailors.

At the end of the shingle spit, looking towards shore.

At the end of the spit this time a rarely seen section of the Street was visible; it was full of seabirds and was noisy with their squawking. When I turned my back to them and looked onshore I could hear the gentle lapping of the water onto the sides of the spit and enjoy the view.

Seabirds on the second exposed 'island' squawked noisily.

The shore looked a long way away, sounds from the beach were carried towards me; dogs barking, children playing, and conversations hung in the air and softly floated out to sea. I am always amazed at the way that sound travels so well over water, I have learnt not to talk too loudly when swimming in the water with friends or walking out on the mud as the tide goes out, for what you expect to be private is fully known once you come ashore!

A runner appeared from nowhere!

As I stood still at the end of The Street, the world still moved around me. The tide was on the turn and gently lapped and took some of the land back for itself. A runner appeared very quickly beside me, she must have incorporated the shingle spit into her route, and stood for just a moment, looking out towards the horizon; she then turned and was off, running back down towards the shore.

Running back towards the shore.

She was replaced by a dog walker with two large black Labradors who darted in and out of the water. The seagulls squawked, the tide came in a bit further and I started to walk back, suddenly realising just how chilly I was.

Walking to the Same Place

The next morning I saw that The Street looked even further exposed and had many people already walking out on it, so I had to join them, knowing just how special these spring sunny days were, especially if the tides allowed the fuller length of The Street to be explored.

The next day...

This time it was warmer and I took my time to walk to the end. I have been out on this piece of shingle many times and each time it surprises me. There were traces of where the tide had moved smaller pebbles onto the Street at irregular intervals.

Tidal pattern of shingle on The Street.

It created a tidal pattern up that particular side of the spit which was easy to overlook if viewed from above but much clearer to see from a distance. This often happens with walking the same route, details of past experiences, such as this tidal rearranging of shingle can easily be overlooked but are subtle and a delight to discover.

Wading bird footprints.

Second visit, bird prints and shadow.

I took some more photographs of seagull footprints. They use the shingle bank as a hard surface to crack open shells. I often watch them pick up a shell, wheel high above the sea and then drop the shell down onto the shingle, breaking it open, then flying down and eating the contents.

Seaweed and shadow.

The tide had exposed even more shingle at the far end and I was surprised at the amount of seaweed that was exposed. Clumps of what I thought to be Pepper Dulse were dotted all across its surface. Red feathery seaweed moved with the tide, securely fixed in the shallows and longer thin red seaweed swayed in the deeper water.

Red seaweed, I must find out their names.

As I bent down to pick and eat some of the Dulse I caught the eye of another tidal explorer, he had slowly worked his way up the side of the street, wearing wellingtons and paddling in the shallows, occasionally bending down too, to investigate further. We said a cheery ‘hello’ and both got on with our preoccupations. I wonder what he was looking for if I see him again I will ask.

Moving Time

Being on The Street is a perfect antidote to my daily routine which seems to consist of rushing around. I can stand still on the end and look out to sea, over to the horizon and its interesting juxtaposition of the forts and the windmills. I can hear ‘real life’ sounds of people and lives and yet be in a relatively wild place where the birds calls, the rhythmic sound of the water slapping the shingle and the noisy wind can be total.

Lapping waves.

Living as I do, by the sea I am aware of the daily ebb and flow of the tides and the changes in the tidal heights and lows which change in accordance to the moon. Yet I don’t always remember, it is when I make time to walk out on the Street that I recognise this movement of time and then many other aspects of my life are able to be put into perspective.

Looking towards the east and onshore.

This walk out towards the horizon on a stretch of land that is only exposed twice a day feels very special, almost like a pilgrimage. I am not the only one who must feel its uniqueness. I have, in the past seen a couple out on the end, dancing together to a wind up gramophone, I have attended a memorial service out there where ashes and flowers have been thrown into the water and floated away, I have taken wedding photos of friends…my list can go on, and as I am rarely ever alone out there on this liminal stretch of land, others must have their own personal memories, attachments and connections to it too.

Walking with Others

 

Walking with Others

I was lucky enough to spent last weekend at The Eden Project in Cornwall as a participant on their ‘Big Lunch Extras’ programme. Eden itself is an inspiring place, the vision and determination of the originator Tim Smit shines through.

Beautiful sky and biomes.

Big Lunch Extras was created as an optimistic and practical response to the growing number of community-minded people who got involved with ‘The Big Lunch’. This was an Eden initiative, which encouraged ‘as many people as possible to sit down and have lunch with their neighbours on one day.’

Eden has some magical quiet areas.

The weekend was packed with wonderful opportunities to learn, network and be supported in our own projects. Stories were told of exciting and worthy projects being set up and running all over the country. I found the weekend to be inspiring, engaging, fruitful and most surprisingly, tender.

Walking the labyrinth together.

Real stories told of how and why people were inspired to make a difference. They were thoughtful and honest. I felt very touched to have experienced the ‘collective genius of the community’, which Rob Hopkins, the initiator of the Transition Network spoke about 8 years ago.

 

Detail of the huge seed at the centre of the Core.

The Core building was designed around the stone 'seed'.

One of the first stories I heard was told by the South East area ‘catalyst’, Rich and it set the scene for the whole weekend. He explained how his daughter loved the story of The Very Hungry Caterpillar so much that he had to read it every night. As she got older she started to ask ‘why?’ to everything. When she asked why the caterpillar got so big and fat and built a cocoon around him, Rich had to ‘Google’ it as he realised he didn’t understand why a caterpillar could change either.

The floor has a tile pattern representing ripples.

What he discovered was the caterpillar has ‘imaginal cells’ within it. These cells ‘wake up’ at a specific stage in its life cycle and become drawn to each other. When enough of them connect they are able to direct the future of the caterpillar which then transforms into a butterfly.

This was a metaphor for all of us in that room. We could be seen as the imaginal cells that have ‘woken up’ and could now come together to create transformative change in our communities.

Theatre of Place

Sue Hill, the Art Director of Eden talked to us about her company ‘Wildworks’ and what she referred to as the theatre of place: the connection between people and place. She told us of many events that were put on in communities and her wish to ‘find wonder as there is always treasure to be found’.

Paths and mounds topped with Snowdrops.

She reminded us of how in the darkest months people are willing to go outside and be involved in an event if there is fire. Light and lanterns have always been used to illuminate the dark in a spectacular way, it creates a focus and ‘touches something deep’. She loves her work and talked about shared experiences, something that I too work with. 

 

Sunny Catkins.

She explained that creating something temporary, together in the community, then burning it, can be great as the memory lives on in the heads and hearts of the group.

She expressed herself in an inspiring way and reminded us to start all projects with love. She told us that when we approach projects and community with love, we create a powerful energy, one of awe and wonder, of recognition and appreciation for being in this extraordinary time and place: right here, right now.

Role Models

Sue Hill could be seen as a role model, she was full of enthusiasm and knowledge for her work and other projects. I wonder what she would describe herself as.

Temporary art created by another participant .

I am many things and I have many roles, in the past I have been criticsized as being ‘fickle’!. So, it was a relief to see another creative mind struggle and overcome this ‘pigeon holing’ of roles. Anne-Marie Culhane, facilitated a couple of workshops over the weekend, one of her first presentation slides was a page of text. It started with ‘In my practice at different moments I am…’

This was a revelation. The page was full of describing words, words ending in ‘ing’, such as painting and exploring, facilitating and performing. They filled the page and described her approach and practice perfectly.

 

The path in the Mediterranean biome.

I may have to do this as an exercise for myself. In listing all of my activity, I think I will find more clarity.

Writing

One of my descriptions could be writing. I write this blog once a week. It is essential to my momentum at getting the walking project moving forward. I will start to reorganise the content from these blogs this week and plan the book that I am going to write. I want to write it before the summer. I know what it will be like, I have a vision of it finished, and this will also protect the content as my IP (Intellectual Property).

 

Cartoonists made postcards of us and our ideas, to share.

I met many people at the weekend who gave me advice and encouragement with my project and book. I also had a mini film workshop, which was great.

Primroses in bright sun.

That could be a real asset to improve upon in the future. I have combined walking and creating fire events with local people over the last three years, these do create a theatre of place that embeds memories and shared experiences, but now I could film them too and increase the audience and hopefully inspire others to do something more, with love.

At the end of the trip, we went to the sea.

(I completed my MA in September 2014 and recorded the last two months of it in another blog called www.thesaltwayfarer.blogspot.co.uk

Please feel free to look at that anytime, as it is from that, that I am where I am now.)