Within the silent stillness of the hollowing woman, caught in the marrow of ancient bones and far inside the cauldron of crows, rests one seed that holds the key to the restoration of life. So we create a journey of germination and renewal as we pause before the last out-breath of winter, held at a turning point within the protecting hands of the oldest guardian, and guided by the visions that wait behind our eyes. A time for mending, dreaming, tending fires and travelling gently, supported within the circle of women and nurtured by the ancient land.
- A piece of yarn approximately 3 metres in length, that I have filled with the energy of my journey and my land between now and the gathering - washed by rain, blown by the wind (frozen solid if the weather continues like it is!) lain at my hearth, worn around my belly.
- A small simple gift that I've made, (out of wool, bones, something from nature) to carry and offer when we make a ceremony of remembering fire.
- A few words to share with the circle on our first night to describe my winter journey so far.
- A personal totem, piece of nature or item of significance to me, to represent me on the central shrine for the duration of the weekend.
- Since I can expect to spend some time in the roundhouse (an amazing building built as our ancestors must have done, by Carolyn and her partner Nigel - that's Carolyn in the entrance in the picture above) I must bring wellies and shawls and blankets to wrap up in and drums and rattles and torches to keep the night at bay.
- Women who came to the first workshop (I didn't) should bring their spindles and death totems (which sounds rather alarming!?)
The yarn and small gift and spindles are no trouble - but words to share? Death totems? What have I let myself in for?