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This winter has been a season of wind and rain, and I've been lucky enough to spend some well needed time really seizing this opportunity to look within, to seek vision in the deep silence of the fireside at night, and take some time out to go on retreat on the wild Cornish coast, a place of pixies, ancient tin mines that stretch for miles filled with the ghosts of times past, and tales of pirates and shipwrecks.

Cornwall is an ancient land, where Celtic villages like Carn Euny and Chysauster can still be found. Their stones walls breaking through the hummocks of turf, it's possible to stand by their hearths and look out to sea, as they did long ago. Traders with the Romans, Greeks  and those who came before, these were a proud and clever people. They mined their land for tin,  copper and even gold and lead, and were skilled metal workers with trading links all across Europe. Sitting sheltered from the harsh February winds against their strong walls there is a still and steady presence, as if the passage of time can be cast away and it is possible to sense their lives all around.

Solstice Blessings everyone! On the 21st, in the northern hemisphere, we celebrate the winter solstice, the shortest day when the Sun appears to 'stand still' while at its lowest  point in its yearly cycle. From then until the summer solstice in June the sun will shine for a little longer each day, in time bringing back the light and warmth.

In Britain this sacred time is said to be overseen by an ancient figure known as the Holly King- a counterpart to the Oak King who rules over the summer, both perhaps aspects of the Green Man, that mysterious divine figure which features in so many ancient Celtic tales. These beings have most evidence in the Middle Ages, but hark back to far older pagan traditions, reflecting both the importance of the oak to the druids, and the evergreen holly as its protective 'other face' during the winter months. The holly is said to have many magical powers, protecting from storms and ill wishes hence is presence as a decoration in the home over the darkest time of the year. It is also helpful as a Celtic 'power plant' in overcoming our own darker issues; pain, anger, jealousy, fear, grief, the darkness of the underworld within our own spirits. It achieves this by raising our life force, our kundalini, to give us the strength to overcome adversity within. The Holly King is a guide and guardian of this inner and underworld, known as Annwn in Celtic lore, which aligns energetically as well as psychologically with the mortal realm over the winter months, calling to us to seek stillness and sink into the cave, the great cauldron of the earth, to look within and seek rest and renewal...

This month has seen the culmination of many years work for me, with the release of my latest book 'Celtic Tree Magic- ogham lore and druid mysteries.' ( Published by Llewellyn worldwide).

My spiritual journey began well over 20 years ago now, with the trees. The trees were where I felt my connection to the divine, where I felt a connection to spirit the most strongly.  It's still true for me today. My magical training began with herbs and tree lore, and I quickly understood that the trees were powerful, graceful spirits, which a host of healing qualities, magical attributes as well as tales and lore that preserves the Celtic druidry and wisdom of my ancestors. In the Celtic lands, they are some of our most potent 'power plants' our most trusted spiritual allies.

A Blessing to you an and all your line this Samhain / Calan Gaeaf...

I love the autumn in Avalon. Today I spent a wonderful golden afternoon walking amongst the apple orchards. The last of the summer sun warmed my skin, and turned the lingering dew on the grass into a million diamonds...the air was rich with the heady scent of ripe apples, a hint of wood smoke and cider as the fallen fruit burst with juices and fermented upon the soil. The apples on the bough, still firm and full of life, russet and gold, hung like garlands of jewels amongst the turning leaves. Damsel and dragonflies flitted around in clouds of azure blue and metallic green, alighting on the rich blackberries and the scarlet rosehips. The air was still, the silence broken only by the cawing of the crows, the distant cries of the buzzard circling over Glastonbury Tor. All around was natures abundance, overflowing and decadent, lingering still before the coming winter, lazy and full bellied.   

The apples of Avalon are highly sacred. The mythical Isle of Avalon, the Isle of Apples traditionally held to be here, in Glastonbury in the south west of England, is a place of rest and wholeness, a place of healing. An Otherworldly Isle, positioned on the veil between the worlds, it is the first stop for travellers passing in either direction- a place of immortals and faery spirits, as well as wandering mystics, prophets, and lost souls seeking redemption. Modern day Glastonbury is much the same, a meeting place of spirits seeking something more...to cross the veil, or get a glimpse of the divine that here can feel so tantalisingly close. And always, the answer, the goal, the grail that is sought is summed up by the simple apple, the fruit of the gods.

There's no doubt about it- we live in modern, changing times, when the old religious power structures and dogmas of the past are being rapidly over turned and quite rightfully, often treated with disdain. That's good. Free thinking, and free expression are wonderful things and we should be grateful that we can on the whole, in the West at least, practice our spirituality freely, according to our own ideas and inner promptings. There shouldn't be a problem with that- should there?

Well, sadly, there is sometimes. With the power to be our own clergy, comes responsibility, or the consequences for the lack of it.

Over the last few weeks, and not for the first time, I have found myself weeping at the news. There is so much horror in the world. We are left as helpless witnesses to the atrocities of the few wreaking destruction on the many- innocent children, men and women- with little hope of being able to make a real difference. While so many of us are losing faith in our political and other power structures, our awareness of each others perils and tragedies is greater than ever before. What is there to be done? When it comes to the wars and violence that rage over our planet, large and small, ( though is any act of violence ever small?) I no longer care about the arguments, ideaologies, histories, the endless tit for tat- I, like so many others just want the violence to end.

It is time we had a sea change, and moved beyond this endless cycle. Children are dying. If we are spiritual people, then it is our children out there. We are not removed by our physical distance. Our future is growing up in bomb shelters, and refugee camps, starving, traumatized, and without hope. We are slaying our innocence, our future, even by doing nothing. There is no excuse.