Liminal states, change & transformation...

Autumn is a beautiful liminal slant-light time, and a time too of transition. Here, some trees are dropping their leaves; geese are veeing overhead; squirrels , mice and jays gathering nuts; 8-month-old pups learning the joys of picking blackberries and hazelnuts; and most of the swallows have gone (happily, they bred well enough here to allay some of my early-summer fears, though swifts are still having a hard time of it). We are harvesting our abundant crops, and trying to find new ways of cooking beans and the first squash, eating rather a lot of crumbles. (I'm still working on my plant-based cookbook, though that has been pushed to the back of the queue due to some possible good news on my tree book.)

And I'm just back from leading a new retreat week, over the equinox and my birthday, on my beloved (and liminal) Isle of Iona. It was a very special and profound week with some diverse and lovely women; the course subtly different both in content and emphasis as well as in season from the spring courses. The island worked her usual magic and the week was soul-infused and exciting, with some magnificent pieces of writing. The seascapes here were all taken last week on the island.

My main passion and concern is how we might, as creative beings, add our small individual flames to the greater vision, increasingly urgently needed in our time, of transforming our relationship to our soul-life, to each other, to our home the planet and to our kin of the other-than-human nature. To the whole of the natural world. This vision is implicit or overt in all the work I do. I believe that the nature of this work, with writing as catalyst, furthers that vision in a tiny way.

And so I am making changes in the way I work to give more attention to this core focus.

Those of you who have worked directly with me will know that my courses have always been holistic. ('I thought I was coming on a writing course', said one of my participants a few years ago. 'Now I know that's it's also about how we live.')

Even the two writing distance-learning six-month-long novel and poetry courses (Storymaking and Elements of Poetry) are informed by deeper ideas. Storymaking, which boasts several now-published novelists in its history, is in its 21st year, and is rooted in archetypal ideas of the Quest (often known as the Hero's Journey). Elements of Poetry includes aspects of the soul in its approach, albeit mostly tacit.

It's a time in my life, too, of change, I think, as I look again at what I want to do with my course programme and my own writing. I've been an environmental activist all my adult life, and increasingly I want that to inform all the work I do.

In our times of great loss, uncertainty and despair, my programme of courses aims to deepen your life through the creative imagination and its expression in poetry, story, myth, journal-writing, land art and whatever else presents itself, and through time outdoors, meeting our other-than-human (and human!) kin with heart and a mindful openness. This invariably changes the way we relate to the world. 'Transformative' is a frequent word used of my courses; my belief is that unless we are willing to transform our own lives too we can't change the world. What I want is to be part of a community of people living deep, rich, meaningful lives and offering their gift, their unique gift, back to the collective.

I'm currently looking at stripping back to the essentials so that 2020, the 29th year of Fire in the Head, might usher in a more focused programme, with maybe some deeper changes. The main change will be that I'm removing the 'smaller' aspects of my work that leave me scattered, and are not viable for the (conscientious) amount of time I put in. I'm also determined to spend less time on the computer, and more time tending our animals, our extensive veg plot, the orchard and my bee-and-herb garden. And – new concept for me – taking a little time out, just for me.

The core elements of my work, whether my own writing or the work I do with others, are sharpening rather than disappearing. This is the focus:

▪	Our relationship with soul: our own, each other's, and anima mundi

▪	Our relationship with nature (the rest of the natural world)

▪	Our relationship to the creative imagination, primarily through poetry- and prose-writing.

To enable this, I have decided to focus on three aspects of my working life.

The first is to reclaim time for my own writing. It looks as though my A Spell in the Forest: Tongues in Trees book, based on the course below, might have found a home, and will hopefully be published in 2020. This will be followed with a 2nd book, also related to the Brittany forest in which I spend part of my year. More anon.

The second is that next year I will be offering very few courses. The only certainties at the moment are the two residential weeklong retreats on Iona. These combine creative expression, mainly writing, with silent meditative walking, psychospiritual awareness, discussion, readings, sharing our poetry, stories, laughter and grief, and can offer a sense of belonging, and deep homing. (They are full, but there is a waiting list.) In 2021 I will be back with The Land's Wild Magic, and the 3rd annual Iona week.

The third is that I hope to offer more distance learning courses similar to my Tongues in Trees course (see below). You can read more about these ideas on my other website The Wild Ways.

From now, I'm putting on hold the mentoring and manuscript appraisal work (apart from with my current mentees), and most of the one-day workshops. NB that I'm offering a half-day eco-poetry writing workshop at the Exeter Literary Festival in Devon on Sunday November 11th. (Typo alert!)

For the rest of 2019, I'm focusing on completing the first yearlong group of Tongues in Trees, a course that has been so rich and joyful to create and lead, and with some amazing people who have brought so much (and there's excellent feedback).

I'm taking bookings now for the 2020 yearlong Tongues in Trees course. It begins on the winter solstice 2019. You can do the self-study option, or you can work one-to-one with me (the number of people I work with on an individual basis is strictly limited, and I only have one or two spaces left). In addition to tasks and up to 15 pages of material for each monthly module (13), with the latter option I respond to your thoughts and reflections, and specifically to the creative work that arises from that month.

This course seems to have more than fulfilled its aim, for those who have been really dedicated to it: deepening their understanding of trees and forests, and deepening their personal relationship to individual trees, species, and forests in general. And, of course, there has much creative writing (as well as photos and sketches) in response to each module. You can see feedback on the webpage.


For now, autumn greetings and blessings to you all, and if you have read this far, and especially if you have joined me this year and accompanied me in this work that I love so much, big thanks to you. 

© Roselle Angwin 2019