I said: What about my eyes?
God said: Keep them on the road.
I said: What about my passion?
God said: Keep it burning.
I said: What about my heart?
God said: Tell me what you hold inside it?
I said: Pain and sorrow.
God said…….Stay with it. The wound is the place where the light enters you.
Rumi, (Sufi poet).
I printed this poem into the back of the service sheet I had put together for my brother’s Memorial Service, to be held on 21st March, last Saturday. On the previous day, March 20, the day of the Solar eclipse, the Earth’s axis was also perpendicular to the sun’s rays meaning that the day and the night are of equal duration. From where I was in Cornwall, the partial eclipse was occasionally visible in a hazy cloud cover. In the space of about an hour, the dimming of the light into a smiling sun, the eery stillness and the quiet came and went leaving me in a state of wonderment. Later that day, I travelled up to Great Chalfield, Wiltshire, with a bucket full of pale-yellow daffodils that I had picked from Tommy’s Cornish field the previous day. These were put into a couple of chalices to be placed on the chapel altar for the service the following day.
For the past few days, prior to my exodus to Wiltshire, a heady scent has filled the air inside my tiny cottage. The gentle perfume from the daffodils I had picked earlier has been accompanied by a new smell, arriving inside a wine bottle sized package from Austria, marked, glass, this way up (at least that’s what I think it said).
As I delved deeper inside the parcel and began peeling off the layers of bubble wrap, the object becoming tantalizingly more visible under each bobbled layer, it is fair to say that I was stunned when I finally revealed the prize.
Even though I had been expecting it and knew what was inside the package, (see previous post, It’s All About the Light
), as I picked up this unique object to examine it, it took several minutes for me to grasp the sheer skill and artistry in the decoration of this candle, now cupped in my hands, which has two distinct sides to it. The intoxicating smell emanating from it was an unexpected bonus: the aroma of pure beeswax which somehow made me think of Alpine scenery and wild herbs.
I wrote an email to Siggy:
It has arrived! (beautifully wrapped and protected) And it is truly wonderful! I cannot thank you enough.
Your instincts are perfectly judged. It is a stunning work of art, beautifully decorated with leaves of peace and gold and it smells divine!
The Chakra ‘swirls’ of energy will correspond to where I am on my journey as I have identified each one on the way. Slowly burnt as we pass through these areas, accordingly. eg. starting with the Crown Chakra on Lindisfarne and finishing with the base Chakra on St Michael’s Mount, fittingly my homecoming, and where I touch ‘base’.
And the eternal flame will burn when I reach the heart Chakra, at the half-way point of my journey. I shall have to find somewhere very special to burn that bit. I’m sure that will be revealed to me at the appropriate time.
I will ensure it is wrapped very carefully for the journey. Such a treasure. As indeed are you.
With deepest gratitude,
There is something undeniably enchanting about honey and its by products; the process of harvesting the nectar from flowers that have blossomed through the action of sunlight, water and air, transformed by bees into liquid gold. Beeswax, possesses its own magical qualities, is secreted from the underside glands of the honey bee abdomen; the wax then moulded to form honeycomb in which to contain the honey. Other than in the making of candles, it also has its uses in painting, particularly encaustic painting and varnishes.
This Spring equinox was especially auspicious as it not only occurred on the day of the partial eclipse but also on the day we had a Supermoon, or perigee moon, which happens when the full or new moon does its closest fly-by of the Earth, making it look bigger than it normally does. So it seemed fitting that at this traditional time of beginning and renewal, I decided that the occasion of Tim’s Memorial service would be a fitting time and place, sitting on the altar between the daffodils, to light the candle for the first time, to honour our loved ones, now departed, who still live with us in spirit, and continue to guide us on our earthly travails.
Then, as so often happens, something crops up at an appropriate time. The following song by Lucinda Drayton was posted by a friend on Facebook, and seemed particularly poignant in the circumstances.