MM all
A brook flows gently thru WG. It bubbles and gurgles its way along, and seems to sing as all the widespread WGers take a sip from its waters. It is pure, and its path is the path of nurturing.
As it flows, occassionally someone launches a small boat which bobs along quite happily as various WGers use their brushes to add a little colour here and a touch of design there. It is the boat of learning.
There needs to be never a time when someone feels they cannot sip from the pure waters of our brook, or take a little something from the boat.
Let the water of our brook feed our hearts, minds, and spirits.
Be at peace.
Live, Love, and Laugh
'A Brook Flows Thru It...' by Laurence Harris
I've altered my mental image of the Grove to fit the brook in now.
When I think of the Grove, it's an actual grove with the sacred trees all about, surrounding us. Beyond them are more trees, forming a barrier between us and the world, though there are pathways through them. Some well signposted, like the path to Kindly Ones or any of the groups mentioned on the website, owned or moderated by one of us. Some are less well signposted, because, though related, they are invitation only. There are quite a few of them that I've wandered down to explore, but probably many more that I know nothing about.
The Lurkers' Lounge is back there, in the woods. Close enough to hear any of us canting away, but quiet enough to chill out in. Take a breather. Some bits are bulldozed down by Georgia, to be sure, but there are still places to lie down in and listen to the beautiful sound of silence, or the inspiring, interesting, general babbling or in-depth philosophizing of the Grove.
Then there's the Grove itself. I see it a little like Dr Who's Tardis in size. In my head, it's a tiny place - a small, compact, safe Grove; but this can fit in so many little sections. Like a festival, perhaps. There's some of the artists creating their art over there. Over here, there's crafts being made. There's a sacred space, where so many altars are set up. So many little sections, were we can wander by, listen in, participate or just learn by watching.
There's a part like a main stage, which looks more like a worn patch of grass with a microphone on it. Chandan Lohia's standing in it at the moment, telling us about his forms of meditation. I stop by and listen to him tell us about a lake, with dirt at the bottom made of memory and experience. He tells us to reach in and take out the dirt, so that the waters are pure and clear again. These waters being our spirituality and the dirt being our fears. He's doing well on that worn patch of grass, where the greatest Grovers have stood and taught, ranted, vented, chatted and talked.
I can wander over to the gardens, overlapping into the Herbal Hutch, and ponder my way through lavendar bushes, rosemary bushes... the scent of lemon balm filling the air as I brush through them. And a new section, with a cairn piled high with so many stones brought one by one in remembrance... You can get a good view of the Grove from there and appreciate it in all its utter beauty.
I love this place. I love the people. I love their love and caring and compassion and their fierce pride and their love... and their love...
The goddess Cerridwen had a hand in its creation and you can tell. There's a nurturing brook running through it and I'm guessing that the source lies in a cauldron. Reviving, re-awakening, giving, nuturing, raising us like phoenixes from the ashes and sand.
Blessed Mother, I honour you in this place and time, kneeling in your altar. (Your altar, which is generally too big to really see or comprehend.) And I thank you for this place.
yours
Mab
xxxxx