One of the signs that the end of summer is approaching in my locality is the seeds of willowherb. Willowherb species (Epilobium and Chamerion) have been present in Britain since the Late Glacial Interstadial (13,000 years ago) and began spreading vigorously again at the end of the last Ice Age.
There are eight species of willowherb native to Britain: broad-leaved willowherb (Epilobium montanum), spear-leaved willowherb (Epilobium lanceolatum), pale willowherb (Epilobium roseum), great willowherb (Epilobium hirsutum), hoary willowherb (Epilobium parviflorum), marsh willowherb (Epilobium palustre), square-stalked willowherb (Epilobium tetragonum), and rosebay willowherb (Chamerion angustifolium).
As the Latin names, such as montanum ‘of the mountain’ and palustre ‘of the marsh’ suggest, this ubiquitous plant has evolved to survive in many habitats.
American willowherb (Epilobium ciliatum) was introduced in 1891 and New Zealand willowherb (Epilobium brunnescens) in 1904.
Of these species, three are common in my locality of suburban Penwortham: broad-leaved willowherb, great willowherb and rosebay willowherb.
Broad-leaved willowherb is one of the smaller, most versatile, well-known and well-spread of the willowherbs. Growing from 20 – 60cm, it is typically found on mountains, in woodlands, on walls and on rocks. It grows all over our garden – in cracks in the paving stones, in flower beds; ever the opportunist, it even crashes into the pots of other plants.
Its leaves have short stalks. They are opposite, oval to lanceolate, and are characterised by a broad base. The flowers are on terminal racemes. They are pink, with four notched petals. The stigma has four lobes. They measure 6 – 9mm. The stem is rounded and almost hairless. The seed pods are downy capsules 4 – 8cm long. When the capsules split, they release thousands of tiny seeds, (1mm long and 0.5mm wide) borne on tufts of long, silk white hairs called comas. These act as parachutes carrying them away on the wind to new destinations.
Great willowherb is much larger, growing from 80 – 150cm. It is found on riverbanks, in fens, marshes and damp meadows, preferring neutral soils. Near me, it grows on the edges of ditches and streams in the Meadows, on the edges of the meadow areas in Greencroft Valley and in the meadows themselves. It also scattered around Preston Junction Nature Reserve.
Its leaves are lanceolate and clasping. Its flowers, on terminal racemes, are a deep purple-pink and notched. The stigma, again, has four lobes. They measure 15 – 23mm. The stems are round and downy. The seed pods are 5 – 9cm long.
Rosebay willowherb is the giant of them all. It can grow up to 2m high. It is most often found on wasteland and locally occurs on former and current railway banks. It occurs in abundance at Preston Junction Nature Reserve. It is one of the few native plants that stands its ground to Himalayam Balsam.
Contrastingly, its lanceolate leaves are arranged alternately and spirally on its round, hairless stems. Its flowers, rose-purple, 20 – 30mm, grow in racemes on spikes. Its four-lobed stigmas bend down. Its seed pods are 4 – 10cm and can release as many as 80,000 hair-borne seeds from just one plant!
The wispy white seed-fluff replacing the passionate pinks marks the end of summer. Willowherb, a perennial, will then enter dormancy. Its seed will go on.
Willowherb is versatile and enduring and quite often a pioneer species. Famously, during the Second World War, rosebay willowherb colonised sites of bombings, leading to it becoming known as bombweed or singerweed. It is also known as fireweed because it springs up red in the wake of fires.
With global heating accelerating at a staggering rate and wildfires raging across the world, including here in the UK, it is looking like we will be seeing more of fireweed, more of its seeds, through summer and its end.
“I will go on,” says this plant whose seed bank is now huge, “I will go on.”
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I currently have the privilege of tending a garden. My relationship with our garden is quite unique for I have lived here, in the same house with my parents, since I was four years old, with only a couple of brief periods of living away. I’m forty-four now. So I’ve been here almost forty years.
I’ve played in the garden, ignored the garden, done bits and bobs, but only since the health of my parents has deteriorated and Covid struck, have I taken gardening and building a relationship with the garden spirits seriously. I’ve had successes and failures and learnt quite a few things along the way.
Here, I will provide an account of the processes I’ve been through and provide some guidance for others on working with spirits of the garden.
What is a Garden?
For anybody setting out to get to know the spirits of their garden, it’s helpful to know what a garden is. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, it is ‘an enclosed piece of ground used to grow flowers, fruit, or vegetables.’
Thus, a garden is born by the act of enclosing pre-existing land. Often, a garden belongs to a house and is one amongst many in a row on a street. Sometimes, gardens are created as stand-alone green spaces, such as allotments, community gardens, botanical gardens and garden areas in parks.
The History of the Land
Because a garden is an enclosed piece of ground on pre-existing land, it is helpful to get to know what the land was used for prior to its enclosure. You can do this by looking at old Ordnance Survey maps and at your local tithe map (1).
The OS maps for 1910 and 1890 show that there was an orchard on this land. The deeds to our house record it as cherry orchard. In Lancashire, both sweet cherry (Prunus avium) and sour cherry (Prunus cerasus) were grown. In next door’s garden there is a sweet cherry tree – perhaps a descendant. Sweet cherry seedlings are always trying to grow in our garden.
The 1840 OS map and the local tithe map, from 1839, show beforehand it was meadow. It was known as Golden Bank Croft. The land belonged to Malt Kiln Cottage and Farm and was owned by Richard Palmer, who leased it to William Mayor and his son, Robert Mayor, who is listed as owning the field. The large, irregular field patterns suggest that they date back to the medieval period.
The ‘Bank’ refers to the bank of Fish House Brook, which is culverted beneath the gardens of the houses across the road, Bank Parade. It then flows through Greencroft Valley and north to enter the river Ribble at Fish House Bridge. The source of Fish House Brook lies 100m to the south of my house.
I thus see the presiding land spirits to be the Spirit of Fish House Brook and the Spirit of Greencroft Valley, for they are the powers who have resided here long before we spoke those names and created meadows, houses and gardens.
It is likely that Golden Bank Croft was farmed as hay meadow. The way this worked was that fields were grazed as pasture over the winter, then in spring the cattle were shut out and the grasses were let grow and cut in the summer.
Typical species of a lowland hay meadow in Lancashire include grasses such as: sweet vernal grass (Anthoxanthum oderatum), meadow foxtail (Alopecurus pratensis), crested dog’s tail (Cynosurus cristatus), red fescue (Festuca rubra) and Yorkshire fog (Holcus lanatus) and wildflowers such as: ox-eye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare), bird’s-foot trefoil (Lotus corniculatus), common knapweed (Centaurea nigra), yellow rattle (Rhinanthus minor), great burnet (Sanguisorba officinalis), meadow vetchling (Lathrus pratensis), and meadow buttercup (Ranunculus acris). Remnants of some of the more pervasive of these species are found in our lawn and on local parks and green spaces.
I perceive the guardian spirit of my home and garden to be the former guardian of Golden Bank Meadow and the surrounding land on this side of the brook.
It is likely that, before it was enclosed as meadow, this area would have been mixed deciduous woodland, dominated by oak, with some patches of carr wood. This is suggested by the old oak trees that are remnants of former hedgerows in Greencroft Valley and by place-names such as Broad Oak, Oak Avenue, Oaklands Drive, the Oaks, Alderfield, the Carrs and Carr Wood.
The History of the Garden
The history of a house and garden is usually passed on from its previous owners. This is how we learnt our house was built during the 1940s. If you don’t have this information, you can check the Ordnance Survey maps.
I believe our garden, when we moved in, in 1985, was close to the original design. It had a lot of conifers, shrubs and ornamental plants. All the conifers have been removed due to poor condition and my dad dug most of the plants up.
A few things have survived. A pair of apple trees. Camellia, lilac and eschalonia that have grown to tree-like proportions. Fuchsia and astilbe. Cloves in a pair of pots. Of my dad’s blunders only the raspberry patch remains.
When I was a child, I was far more interested in my toy horses and make-believe equine worlds than I was in the garden. I dug up the lawn to make water jumps and banks for my Playmobile cross country and show jumping competitions and ran round leaping courses made of garden canes myself.
I loved wild nature, which led me to conservation volunteering aged thirty. I didn’t care much for gardens or gardening until I developed a passion for growing native wildflowers. This expanded to include cultivated plants and fruit and vegetables when I began volunteering at Let’s Grow Preston.
Still, I ignored our garden, as I didn’t see it as ‘mine’. This changed when Covid struck and all my volunteer work parties got cancelled. By that time, it was in a state of neglect due to the deteriorating health of my parents.
Building a Relationship with a Garden
My relationship with our garden started off thorny. Quite literally. The cultivated blackberry bushes at the top of our garden had taken over the path. I battled them back. I battled the ‘weeds’. I was angry with the garden for growing so wild and I was angry with my parents for their neglect. The spirits named me ‘Mrs Angry Gardener’. We didn’t start out very well.
Yet, as time went on, with the help of Creiddylad (2) I learnt to listen better to the garden and its needs and to the intelligence of the plants. When my comfrey plant spread from its pot down the side by the compost bin, I allowed it to grow there to provide food for pollinators and to add to the compost. I let honesty grow toward the back of the garden. When the blackberries died, I created a fern garden on advice from Creiddylad and Gwyn (3), populating it with ferns and hart’s tongue growing elsewhere as ‘weeds’.
I replaced the flower beds with a wildflower patch, growing ox-eye daisy, ragged robin, red campion, common knapweed and foxgloves from seed. I added betony and common agrimony from an ecology colleague and blue geraniums from Let’s Grow Preston and Newgate Nursery (bees love them).
When the red campion became dominant in the wildflower patch and threatened to take over the garden, I began picking the seedlings to grow to plant in Greencroft Valley and translocating the larger plants there.
As time has gone on, I have come to know the spirit of the garden better, if something comes up in ‘the wrong place’, to ask its purpose, where else it could go. I have become more one with the movement and succession of plants.
Prayers and Offerings
My personal approach to prayers and offerings is one of practicality and simplicity. I speak morning prayers of praise and evening prayers of thanks. I treat watering and feeding the garden as an offering, doing it prayerfully. When I place items on the compost heap at the bottom of the garden, I feel it is an offering of sorts for the fay who abide in the ferns and the lilac.
I used to make offerings of mead to Gwyn and the garden spirits beneath one of the apple trees. When the hellebores wilted, I found out that alcohol damages trees and plants. It causes dehydration, strips protective layers and kills beneficial soil bacteria. Herbal tea now forms a more suitable alternative. I also, occasionally, offer fruit. This gives nutrients back to the ground. However, I don’t do this often, due to sightings of a brown rat.
Our spirits appreciate arrangements of stones, such as my mum’s ‘god stones’ (4), as shown by the mosses and lungwort who have grown around them.
Others might prefer more elaborate ceremonies and rituals. Always check in with the spirits first make sure that what you want aligns with what they want.
Shamanic Journeys and Dreams
It is also possible to journey to the spirits of the garden. On my journeys, I have not come across a single ‘spirit of the garden’ who has presented in an anthropomorphic or phytomorphic form. Yet, I have heard a ‘voice’ that seems to speak with the deeper being of the wider area.
I have been shown that I’m a mere instrument in the greater design of the land. A mid-wife and foster-mother to the plants, a nurturer, a waterer. That my existence and doings here are transient against the ancientness of this place and of its inhabitants, some who outdate humans by millions of years.
I have been shown that willowherb (Epilobium) will never stop spreading and horse tail (Equisetum) will maintain its vast subterranean system beneath the earth for millennia. My existence here is more ephemeral than the so-called ephemeral plants who will continue in their seed whereas, with me, my line ends.
As I have built a deeper relationship with the garden, it has appeared more often in my dreams. I have dreamt the Leylandii are back again. I have dreamt strange bees and wasps. I have dreamt a pond in the middle of the back lawn that my parents will never allow but might be created by a future owner.
Presence and Listening
Of all things, I have found that the main need of our garden has been that I pay attention and listen. That, instead of being in my head, listening to my internal chatter, I am embodied and present amongst the trees, plants and creatures.
In this state, I am more at one with the garden, more attentive to its needs. I notice things better. For example, how the types of bees on the oregano – honey bee (Apis mellifera) and white-tailed bumblebee (Bombus lucorum) – differ from the types of bee on the common knapweed – red-tailed bumblebee (Bombus lapidarius), common carder bee (Bombus pascuorum) and hairy-footed flower bee (Anthothora plumipes). I notice a hornet mimic hoverfly (Volucella zonaria) for the first time and wonder what its appearance means.
Taking the time and effort to be present and listen, whether whilst gardening or sitting or standing still, for me forms the foundation of good relationship. It also opens the door to deeper mysteries and more intimate disclosures from the spirits. Thus, Blake’s ‘Heaven in a wildflower’ can be found in any garden.
*If you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me on Patreon HERE.*
Footnotes
(1) Tithe maps were created following the Tithe Commutation Act of 1836 to replace the ancient system of paying tithes in goods with monetary taxes. (2) An ancient British and Welsh goddess of sovereignty and fertility who I perceive to be connected with flowers. (3) Gwyn ap Nudd, ‘White son of Mist’, earlier known as Vindos, is the King of Annwn / Faerie and Creiddylad is his queen. (4) The stones, in order, from the top left, represent Creiddylad, Nodens, Anrhuna, Vindos / Gwyn, Maponos / Mabon and Gwythyr.
I am excited to announce the publication of my new novel, The Lost Shrine of Nodens. The concept is based upon the two Romano-British silver statuettes dedicated to Nodens, an ancient British god of healing and dreams, which were found on Cockersand Moss in Lancashire. They suggest a lost shrine to Nodens may have existed nearby.
This is the blurb:
The Lost Shrine of Nodens is a an epic dystopian fantasy novel set in Lancashire in the not-so-distant future. It follows the stories of a group of damaged people in need of healing in a damaged world.
Chesney Liddell is an eco-kid with a family history of leukaemia who is trying to create a better future. Lorraine Winter is the most feared and hated girl in Penwortham and leads the Winter Crew in their deadly rivalry against the Summers. Caught between Summer and Winter are Val and Carson Robinson and Chesney is trapped with them. Chesney is in love with Val and Lorraine wants to kill Carson.
Carson is plotting to win free. He is trying to become a rock star and it’s rumoured his inspiration comes from a deal with an underworld god. As he and his band pull everybody into the trajectory of their descent it’s unclear who will return. Their only chance of survival lies with finding the lost shrine of the ancient British healing god, Nodens.
This 135,000 word epic was written in a grief-fuelled sleepless maelstrom over a three month period after I gave up being Sister Patience and the Monastery of Annwn. I certainly will not be doing it again! Two of my beta-readers have described it as ‘a wild ride’.
The print copy can be purchased for £22.79 through Lulu HERE.
The digital version can be purchased for £7.06 through Lulu HERE.
I have also properly self-published The King of Annwn.
The print copy can be purchased for £10.45 through Lulu HERE.
The digital version can be purchased for £4.76 through Lulu HERE.
I’m very pleased to announce that the first The Sanctuary of Vindos Shamanic Circle will take place online on Wednesday 2nd September 7 – 8.30pm UK time.
This month, we will be getting to know each other and finding out what participants want to gain from the circle. We will then undertake a shamanic journey to a spirit teacher to ask for advice on what to focus on learning over the coming months, as the schools and universities return and the nights draw in, making the evenings more conducive for study.
The cost is £10 to be paid on booking. Contact: thesanctuaryofvindos@gmail.com
Everybody is welcome. If you know somebody who would like to come along please share this link.
A piece of string? A royal ribbon? A hair from the tail of a horse of Annwn? A chord from a guitar or an Annuvian harp? The slipstream of a comet or the corpse of a fallen star? An endless drinking horn? The horned helmet of the Bull of Battle? The horns of the Devil? Something more sinister? Yes – indeed – she holds silence. And, in the silence, she holds a heart – the heart of the King of Annwn.
I am announcing my decision to re-open my Patreon HERE. I’ve been on and off Patreon a couple of times, partly due to changes in direction and partly due to burnout from struggles with keeping to self-imposed publishing schedules. However, when I have used it, it has worked, I’ve been deeply grateful for patron support and I do believe in patronage as a viable means of support for creatives. This time, I have chosen offerings that are more sustainable.
This is the introduction to my new account along with my tier-based offerings.
Hello and welcome to my Patreon. My name is Lorna Smithers and I am a shamanic practitioner and author based in Penwortham, Lancashire, UK. I offer shamanic services through the Sanctuary of Vindos and write articles on shamanism and the land and lore of Britain. I have a deep passion for helping others to connect with the gods and spirits of this magical landscape and the Otherworld (which was known as Annwn in medieval Wales). I do this in service to Vindos, my patron god, who is a ruler of the Otherworld and a guide of souls.
Here, I’m seeking support for the articles, poems and stories that appear on my website. These include posts about British gods and spirits, animals, trees and plants, and ancestors, and pieces on shamanic practice that can help you develop your relationship with these beings. I also share occasional posts about my spiritual path and practices as a Hermit of the Annwn.
By supporting me you will be helping me to live in alignment with my soul’s calling. You will also receive extras such as a monthly hermit’s prayer, monthly excerpts from my journey book and access to my monthly shamanic circle along with discounts on shamanic guidance and healing.
I look forward to continuing this time-honoured tradition of patronage with you.
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Tier One – Hermit’s Prayer – £3
*Monthly hermit’s prayer known only to me and my gods and you.
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Tier 2 – Journey Book – £7
*Monthly excerpts from my journey book and sharings about my spiritual journey. *Monthly hermit’s prayer.
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Tier 3 ~ Journey Circle ~ £10
*Access to my monthly shamanic journey circle and 20% off shamanic guidance and healing. *Monthly excerpts from my journey book. *Monthly hermit’s prayer.
It’s been unseasonably hot and dry here in the UK. People and nature in the south have really been suffering. It’s been just about bearable here, with the grass yellowing and some trees dropping leaves, seeds and fruit prematurely. Thankfully, over the last few days, we’ve seen some rain.
We’ve got a new Prime Minister, Andy Burnham, ‘the King of the North’. It’s looking like there will be some positive changes, with power being devolved away from London, and improvements in social care and education. However, like his predecessor, Keir Starmer, he is committed to economic growth at all costs, including opening the Rosebank and Jackdaw drilling rigs in the North Sea. We need to face the fact no prime minister and government is going to ‘save us’.
On a personal level, shamanic work has been quiet. In the absence of social media use, I have been attempting to network and get my writing into magazines and journals. As you might imagine, I’ve had a mixture of acceptance and rejection and being ignored. I have managed not to take it personally, but as information about where my energy does and doesn’t belong.
I’ve also had the time to face an identity crisis that has been ongoing since the ending of my monastic life as a nun of Annwn by the name of Sister Patience. I emerged from this with the gnosis that I am Hermit of Heart of Annwn, but I wondered whether, like bard, awenydd, nun, this was another role and mask that needed to be surrendered. Whether I needed to accept I’m just Lorna Smithers, here to be a shamanic practitioner and author, which I see as job roles.
It turned out this isn’t the case. On a shamanic journey, I was shown clearly by Vindos / Gwyn, in his guise as a black dragon (when he dragons he really means business!) being a hermit is my soul’s calling. It makes sense in terms of being asked not to sell my soul on social media.
Still, hermits have to earn a living, how? I’ve been tempted, once again, to rush out and get a cleaning job, but been asked to hold back and leave room for what might emerge instead. Not easy in a society where having a role involves working not non-working. I’m trying to have faith that there is value in holding a space of quiet, prayer, meditation, creativity and spiritual service.
In Creiddylad’s garden our bee-friendly troughs of cosmos, calendula, cornflower and poppies have done well. Many herbs are in flower with mint and oregano providing food for pollinators. In the wildflower patch, betony, common agrimony, hedge cranesbill and common knapweed are flowering.
On an un-named patch of land half a mile from my home that I know as the Meadows, meadowsweet grows along the banks of the ditches and in damp areas.
Its fluffy white flowers, with their almond essence-like scent, are unmistakable. Look a bit closer and you will see they are tiny (5 – 10mm in diameter) and grouped together in cymes with the stamens providing the fuzzy look. Its leaves, too, are striking. They are deep-veined, serrated, and arranged alternately in up to five pairs, ending in a three lobed leaflet. In some places, the flowers have gone over and seeds are forming – tight-clustered achenes.
The common name, ‘meadowsweet’, (1) derives from the Anglo-Saxon, meodu-swete ‘mead-sweetener’ referring to its use to sweeten mead. Other names include bridewort, meadwort, meadow-wort and queen of the meadow.
There’s certainly a feminine energy about this plant. In Irish mythology, Aine, a goddess associated with the summer, love and fertility, gave meadowsweet its sweet scent. In the Welsh myths, the flower maiden, Blodeuwedd, is conjured by Gwydion from the flowers of oak, meadowsweet and broom as a bride for Lleu. Thus, we can see why it might be known as bridewort.
Its scent and presence have a calming quality. In Irish and Scottish Gaelic, it is known as Crios Cu Chulainn ‘Cu Chulainn’s belt’. In the Irish myths, Cu Chulainn, ‘Chulainn’s Hound’, was a fearsome warrior renowned for his riastrad, ‘battle fury’. When he entered his ‘warp spasm’, he shook like a tree, his limbs changed places in his body, one of his eyes sucked in and the other fell out, and his lungs and liver ‘flapped in his mouth’. Thus, he wrecked devastation on his enemies with his living spear, the Gae Bolga.
According to oral Gaelic folklore (I haven’t managed to find a textual reference), the only thing that could calm Cu Chulainn after a battle was being bathed in a cauldron that was filled with meadowsweet by the maidens of Ulster. Afterwards, they tied a belt of meadowsweet around his waist, or he carried a sprig in his hand, its calming capacities preventing further furies.
Although his stories are only now known in Irish and Scottish mythology, Cu Chulainn, whose early name was Setanta, might have had associations with my home county, Lancashire, where the Iron Age tribe were called the Setantii. The name has been translated as ‘the Reaping People’ (2) from the Celtic set mutated to met ‘cut, harvest’ and Andrew Breeze has argued they were not so much the harvesters of crops but the reapers of heads. This is evidenced by the large numbers of ‘bog heads’ deposited in Setantii territory.
Back in the days of war and head-hunting, it’s possible to imagine many a warrior in his, or her, battle fury being calmed by meadowsweet. Men and women who were angered walking the damp meadows and being calmed by its scent, picking a piece, weaving it into a belt, carrying it home to strew in a calming bath or on the floor of a hut, or brewing it to make a relaxing cup of tea.
There is evidence, too, that it was placed in the tombs of the dead during the Bronze Age, such as at Forteviot in Scotland and Fan Foel in Wales. Perhaps to calm the spirits, help them on their way, as it provided second sight. Inhaling the scent was said to help you to be able to see the fairies.
Meadowsweet has traditionally been used to soothe the stomach, relieve headaches and joint pain, and to calm fevers. Its calming qualities have a basis in its chemical constitution. Meadowsweet contains salicylates, such as salicin, salicylaldehyde, and methyl salicylate. These are converted into salicylic acid, a natural painkiller, in the body. In 1897, Felix Hoffman created a gentler, acetylated medication from meadowsweet and this is now known as Aspirin. The name is derived from its earlier botanical genus, Spiraea. It also contains antioxidants such as quercetin, rutin, and spiraeoside which calm inflammation and tannins that protect the digestive tract.
Thus, when I’m feeling angry, or when I’m feeling anxious, I take a walk along the mown pathways through the Meadows and breathe in the scent of meadowsweet. I think of the ancestors who have done so before me, of Setanta and the Setantii, their forebears, those who came after. I think of the flower brides, the fairies, the Fairy King and Queen, their leadership of the dead. I think of sweetness, I think of life, I think of death. If only I could know the calm of Setanta and wear his belt around my waist.
(1) Its scientific name, Filipendula ulmaria, comes firstly from the Latin filipendula. Filum means ‘thread’ and pendulus ‘hanging’. These terms described the tubers that hang from the root. Secondly from the Latin ulmaria, ‘elm-like’ as its leaves resemble elm leaves. It was earlier known as Spirea ulmaria on the basis of its spiralling leaves and this was changed when woody shrubs were separated from soft-stemmed plants (which it is).
Winds of Spirit is an inspired and inspirational book by Renee Baribeau. It provides a framework for working shamanically with the winds in order to navigate better through our lives and be of service to the spirits and others.
As far as I know, this book is unique, as it is the first to focus solely on working with the winds and to provide a modern wind-based divinatory system. This is based on a combination of historical and cultural research and phenomenological evidence based on personal and group experiences.
Baribeau speaks candidly about her spiritual awakening from drug and alcohol addiction and how this led to her training in shamanism in the Native American, Chilean, Mexican and Peruvian traditions. Whilst working as a shamanic healer, she received the name ‘the practical shaman’ on the basis of her talent for helping people to find the tools to improve their everyday lives.
It’s no surprise, then, that this book is very practical and accessible. The idea at its centre is ‘using the body as a compass for navigating through life.’ This is simple, intuitive, but something we too often neglect in our digital world. Thus, embodied presence in the here-and-now, provides the ground.
Baribeau echoes the wisdom of worldwide religious traditions, emphasising the importance of establishing a prayer and meditation practice and also practicing surrender, acceptance, devotion and mindfulness. Only when we have this grounding can we begin to work with the ungrounding forces of the winds.
Baribeau’s system is based around the cardinal winds of the four directions, which she associates with the cycles of life (‘birth, expansion, death and decay’) and to which she assigns the following resonances: East – mind, south – emotions, west – body, north – spirituality and community.
She goes on to describe both inner and outer winds and their different types. I particularly related to the section where she speaks of how tailwinds can drive you forward, headwinds can blow against you or be used for uplift, and crosswinds can blow you off course or bring detours that result in gifts. I found myself nodding along as I recognised these types of wind in my life.
Baribeau shares a variety of practices for working with the winds, such as wind baths, wind knots and the weather vane process. She also talks about taking a wind walk as a way of finding clarity and insight. Finally, she lists 29 winds from world-wide cultures and their meaning when they arrive in the four quadrants and the blessings they can bring when called in.
I live in Lancashire, in an area usually dominated by a strong, damp, west wind that blows in from the sea and up the Ribble estuary and is one I often find myself fighting against when I’m cycling in a westward direction. Less often, we experience a drier and airier wind from the east, a warmer wind from the south, or a bitterly cold wind from the north or from the north-west.
This book has inspired me to listen to them better, to think of my body as a compass, to tune in to what they’re saying and how they relate to my inner winds.
Overall, it is well-researched and contains an excellent blend of ancient and modern wisdom. It is profoundly accessible in its grounding in our shared experience, in the breath we share, in our inner winds, in the outer winds that blow across our lands and appear with different names in different cultures. I would recommend it to those on a shamanic or nature-based path and to all who seek understanding and communion with the winds in their lives and localities.
Late summer, for many, is a time of rest and recuperation. It’s the perfect time to pay attention to our much neglected souls and tend to ailments and illnesses that have been niggling, but haven’t been heard, as we’ve been too caught up in the business of life.
*Have you been lacking in motivation? Struggling to find meaning? Disconnected from yourself, others and nature? A power retrieval or a power animal retrieval could restore your vital energy and sense of connection. *Have you been feeling like a part of you is missing or you’re not fully here? Parts of our souls can be lost at times of trauma and soul retrieval can bring them back. *Have you lost power or soul to a partner, relative, group or organisation? A soul exchange can restore lost soul parts to both parties, thus restoring wholeness. *Have you got an ailment or an illness, physical or psychological, that just won’t shift? From a shamanic perspective, these can be caused by intrusions of negative energy which can be removed through extraction, or it could be that energetic imbalances need to be addressed. *Not sure what you need? We can do a divinatory journey to find out.
I am currently offering £10 off shamanic healings which cost £60 for 1 1/2hrs.
There is more information about shamanic healing HERE.
For a free informal discussion contact: thesanctuaryofvindos@gmail.com
Here are some testimonials endorsing my healing skills:
‘I had a soul retrieval with Lorna… I felt very honoured as two soul parts returned. I wasn’t expecting to feel quite so excited or emotional about the experience and I’m so glad I had the session as since then, I have felt an energy shift and I feel more whole and more positive.’ ~ Michelle
‘I sought help from Lorna when I realised wounds from a former friendship were still affecting my spiritual life… Lorna gave me a wonderful blend of agency and support, and I appreciated her insight about things that had happened while we were in otherworldly spaces. With the work complete, I feel a lot more closure.’ ~ Thorn
‘Lorna is an amazing healer. Very intuitive and I felt a very strong connection… Thank you Lorna for making such a difference to my problematic gut health symptoms.’ ~ Cheryl
‘I found our session healing, validating and liberating and it met me just where I needed to be met – can’t think of higher endorsement.’ ~ Katherine-Alex Walker
