Nature’s Voice

September 23, 2015

natures voice

Yesterday I visited one of our favourite woodlands with the intention of seeking some guidance on a couple of issues that I’m present with.

Nature’s voice is subtle and can take time to attune to. So I set aside an hour, more if necessary, and found my spot at the foot of an old sycamore. Looking out west I could see Anglezarke Reservoir mirroring a white sky through a curtain of oak and beech and above me the canopy swayed slightly in the autumnal breeze.

My first question was how to approach the issue of fracking. Was I to work entirely with a group or do my usual thing of appending that with personal, ad hoc, speculative, impulsive acts of connection and visual story-telling. Emptying my mind as best I could I put the question out there. I let it seep deep through the roots of the sycamore, I asked it of the robin who watched from his holly bush, I sang it to the skies above.

After a few minutes I thought I was getting nowhere. All I could here was this annoying tune in my head. I sat for a few more minutes trying to focus through the inner music which by now I’d identified as from an old Clint Eastwood cowboy film I’d last seen a couple of decades ago.

Then it hit me! It was the music that accompanied a showdown, a gunfight. And there was my message. Eastwood always portrayed a lone gun character who fought the bad guys and protected the underdogs. He worked alone usually, wasn’t told what to do and made his own rules. Yep. Thank you sycamore, cheers robin and I hear you sky! I had my message.

I centred myself again and allowed my mind to drift and was treated to the scent of dog food! Dog biscuits and meat mixed with hot water, just as I used to feed my Tommy, who incidentally was laid to rest only yards to the north of me. Yes Tommy, I hear you.

Next was the feint aroma of Himalayan Balsam, not that there are any nearby. And the message of balsam? Well I’ll leave you to work that one out. I hear you too balsam.

When it was time to leave I heard buzzard calling overhead. She was skimming the canopy, peering through the maze of leaves. Could she see me?

Feeling very blessed and held by nature I ventured to the bank of the lake, sat on a sun-warmed rock and journalled my insights.

Nature’s voice is subtle yet all the more powerful for it. We’ll be exploring this ancient way of wisdom seeking along with many others on our Quest workshop at Samhain and in the meantime I’m making a concerted effort to seek her words of wisdom consistently and often.

About the Author


Jason has been a visual storyteller all of his life and follows an animistic, shamanic path from his ancestral lands of Anglezarke on the edge of the West Pennine Moors.
Formerly a professional photographer and film maker he now uses his art to help others fall in love with the land that little bit more.

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