by Daniel McIlvenny-Cox
by Susa Silvermarie
by Isabella Lazlo
We are living in incredible times, when a new wave is surging, washing over and through the old paradigm. No area of life is left untouched. Rising within this wave is the voice of the feminine, that which has been quieted, shut down and ignored is now awakening. Rumblings from the belly of the Earth mother herself, calling us to stand up and speak from our hearts. Within this rise of the feminine which can be seen through the numerous and inspiring projects emerging all over this beautiful planet, is the voice of woman. Women are rising, remembering our sacred innate connection to the Earth, reclaiming our shared voice and power as we gather in circles, round fires, in fields, woods, village halls and sitting rooms. Continue reading "Celebrating Women’s Voices"
by Atiya Walker Dykes
by Frances Roberts- Reilly
by Frances Roberts-Reilly
by Frances Roberts-Reilly
While living in the USA in the seventies I discovered an old art form which consisted of painting on shelf fungi (ganoderma applanatum, which grow to a very large size in the forests of the Eastern US). The oldest example I saw was of naive art dated 1890 so I knew they lasted once taken from the tree and thoroughly dried out.
This image is created by taking a burning tool and burning through to the layers under the clear pale surface, which gives the piece its colours.
These particular fungi were also used by Eastern US tribal peoples, under their rain skins on their shoulders to hold the garment off in rain and prevent soaking, and as fuel for fires which would be lit at the head and feet, smouldering all night and warding off stinging flies and insects.
I supported myself by burning into these fungi and designing leather waistcoats, pouches and belts which I also burned.
I also paint but my real love is writing and I am about to publish my second book coming out of my second visit to New Mexico USA last year. My first visit to that extraordinary place was in 2005 after which I wrote and published my first book, The Cleaning Lady and The Singing Cowboy.
I moved to Glastonbury in 1998 and support and cherish my two cats Maeve and Plato (currently aka Mr. McPhee), and The Phoenix Project.
by Penn Kemp
A Short Story by Carolyn Lee Boyd
While Penelope was being born in a small fishing village in the far north, a storm ascended from the surface of the ocean herself. Howling, raging, cursing, the relentless waves scattered the frail fishing boats that had sailed out on what had that morning been a fine summer day. From that day forward, water turned her wrath on Penelope's life. The roof over her bed always seemed to leak constant drips onto her face, whether she was at home or visiting, until water became to her a terrifying living being full of unknowable motives. More than once she tumbled out of the family fishing boat and had to be rescued, though this impelled her to learn to be a strong swimmer. Finally, as a young woman she won a scholarship to a university in the south but a month before she was to leave, a hurricane ravaged the campus and it closed indefinitely. "The ocean claimed you as a baby," her great-aunt told her, "and she will never let you go."