Penarth Beach, South Wales 2011

The kiss of the sea on the sand of the shore

Or the breath of the wind through my hair

Are the touch of the fingers of maiden or whore

And the memories she shared with me there.

The lap of the tides as they stoke at my toes

And the curl of the crest of the wave

Are the whispers of secrets which nobody knows

And the memories my sweet mistress gave.

The beach is a liminal space, a joining-place between the sea, the land and the sky. It is changeable and shifting, constantly in flux. The beach is a threshold, belonging to all places and yet not truly part of any of them. Like the ancient hedge to which the term 'hedgewitch' refers, the crossroads or mountaintops, it is a place of uncertainty and indecision. For some people, that uncertainty is too much. Like the coming of a storm, it sends them running for cover. Others let it wash over them, lapping like the waves on the shore.

Waking Up Inside

Apologies for the long silence, the start of the year has been a busy time. I seem to be going through phases of positivity and negativity and neither phase has felt like the right time to be blogging.

On Wednesday, I went on a trip to Glastonbury to have a wander around the shops with some friends. For some reason, despite the amount of overpriced fluff on sale, it seems to have re-awoken my need to connect with older things, the more... instinctive side of what I used to do. So thats what I'm planning to do. This is going to mean some excursions into forests, along coastlines and so on to collect up 'tools' I've long since lost, broken or forgotten. It also means I'll be hoping we get a decent storm sometime in the near future.

This may affect what I end up putting in this blog, but I hope you'll bear with me (no pun intended). If I get too serious, someone poke me with something...

It feels a little bit like I've just finished waking up again. Good morning world, the Hedgebear is up and ready.