Indigenous Lore of the British Isle

Deep is the magic of fire-tending through dark hours, of giving a night’s sleep as an offering: a sacrifice for a prayer’s flight. It effects change. Things that were ordinary are no longer so; we commune with a night and its fathomless wisdom, with all its tides, hoots and howls.

These days artists, writers and makers are celebrated for ‘their creativity’, but this idea of creativity being located within an individual is a recent departure from an ancient understanding of inspiration as a sacred gift, drawn from all life — a communal resource able to be brought through skilfully by those who could listen deeply and who had honed their skills to bring it through in service to the community.

I find myself in a recurring conversation about the grinding tectonic plates of old paradigm and new; the struggle to let go of outdated ways of being and doing, and the creativity and courage it takes to reach new solutions. This re-shaping of our world is played out in the intimate spaces of life as much as in boardrooms and on global political platforms. It’s brutal and confronting; it brings up our ‘stuff’ and asks for heroic acts of humility and an almost super-human cap