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“I opened a book and in I strode.
Now nobody can find me.
I’ve left my chair, my house, my road,
My town and my world behind me.
I’m wearing the cloak, I’ve slipped on the ring,
I’ve swallowed the magic potion.
I’ve fought with a dragon, dined with a king,
And swam in a bottomless ocean.
I opened a book and made some friends.
I shared their tears and laughter
And followed their roads with its bumps and bends
To the happily ever after.
I finished my book and out I came.
The cloak can no longer hide me.
My chair and my house are just the same,
But I have a book inside me.”— Julia Donaldson (via consultingcorsair)(via artfulfairytales)
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“ There is a language older and far deeper than words. It is the language of the earth and it is the language of bodies. It is the language of dreams, and of actions. It is the language of meaning, and of metaphor. (Derrick Jensen – A Language Older than Words).
This other language is the language of other species, of trees, rocks and wind. It is the dance of rain on earth, the song of the trees, the wind whispering its secrets, the pulsing waves drumming its rhythms on rock. It is the language of the very land itself.
By learning this other language we can participate in a new dream that is being born - the dream of the earth. This dream is where we encounter others and things, not as facts to be discovered, but as invitations to participate in the earth’s unfolding and realisation. We re-member (become members again) of the earth community – we become, once again, the dream of the earth.
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“Stolen Child” - W.B. Yeats’ poem set to music by Loreena McKennitt
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
By far off furthest Rosses,
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek the slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.(via thebeldam)
