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.
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.
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.
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.
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
Woodland ants waking up. |
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