#4 — Seasonal Affects
Rambling in the fallow time with a new vision for Britain (in 'mini podcast' form)
Hello friend
Aiyeeee. I don’t know about you but as much as I understand our islands’ seasonal propensity for rain and mulch right now, I can’t say I love it. There is a wintery heaviness in the air, and in my bones, and I find myself longing for a renewed confidence that the next day might actually bring solid sunshine and some seriously blue skies.
And still. If you’re here on this email list, you’re probably more than aware that these periods of fallowness are often precursors for growth. Trees don’t pop with new life in Spring without first dying back in Winter, and nature shows us that even when there doesn’t seem to be much going on above ground, real shifts can be happening under the surface.
Basically — if we want the new shoots, we probably don’t want to skip this bit.
Which has been something of my own experience this past month or so, because whether I want it or not, I seem to be sitting on a thought. It popped up in my being after my friend Kev and I went on a little quest up to Lake Bala, and learned the story of Cerridwen. Since then, I can’t stop wondering about the stories we’ve lost, and how differently we might see this homeland if we knew them.
And as is often the case, that wondering has meant that since that trip, old ancestral stories of Britain, women and water have been crossing my path with strange and unexpected regularity. I’m catching glimpses of Coventina (the British-Roman goddess of wells and springs in Northumberland), or Arianrhod (the Celtic sea enchantress of North Wales), or Morgan La Fey (the healer/witch of Avalon, famed in Arthurian legend). All powerful women associated with creativity, and healing, and deep wisdom; most of whom we have forgotten. And because stories quite literally shift our experience of reality, with each one I feel the landscape of the British Isles shifting into something far more wonderful, and mystical, and alive.
I think, at some point, I probably supposed to do something with all these wonderings.
Even though doing anything right now seems counter to the spirit of wintering.
Perhaps, seasonally speaking, it’s just too soon for that kind of clarity.
What I am feeling however is it might be nice to ramble on about reanimating our sense of the mythic in Britain. And of water. And the water goddesses who seem to be the stewards of creativity and wisdom and healing in the folklore of our lands. I’m curious to explore some of what they mean for us as people and our sense of connection and wholeness if we actually knew something of our own folklore; whether perhaps the stories themselves can restitch our relationship with these islands on which we live or have lived. I wonder what water means to you.
And so I’m excited to share the first in a new format of enquiry — a mini-podcast, kind of more like a voice note, introducing this new thought around reanimating Britain through its old, mythical stories. It’s a new Substack feature, so let’s see if it works…
In it I talk about:
seasonal cycles, wintering and creativity
the forgotten ancestral stories of the British Isles
the need for spirit, wildness and wonder in our relationship with home
the water enchantresses and warrior queens in Celtic stories
what water stories and folklore might mean to you
The sound isn’t perfect, but I don’t think that matters.
And if you find yourself wondering about water in particular, I’d love to know what water means to you? Maybe you’re someone who wild swims their troubles away, or has a favourite lake or riverside spot from which to imagine and ponder. Maybe you know the banks of your local river or canalway like a second-home, or set off for the coast at any opportunity.
Or maybe our rivers, lakes and seas mean nothing to you at all. I’m not sure they’ve always mattered to me; preferring warm mediterranean waters to the cold and dark version on our own shores.
Whatever, I hope you enjoy some of the journey. I’ll probably be talking about these themes here and on socials, and do chat to me about it next time I see you.
And some other inspiration for the fallow time…
🙏 I’m really enjoying this epic podcast discussion between Sam Harris and Andrew Huberman on what meditation really is, and how it relates to the new science of psychedelics. It’s not what you think.
📖 I absolutely loved reading Piranesi by Susanna Clarke, the 2021 women’s prize winner, which raises all sorts of beautiful questions about mythical worlds, lost realities, belonging and solitude. Clarke is a genius, and this book will sit in my soul for a good while while.
📺 Can we talk about Welcome To Wrexham? I’ve completely fallen in love with how Ryan Reynolds and Rob Mcelhenney have taken Wales to heart and are now locked into this underdog story of tragedy and joy that defines local football.
However this email finds you, I hope you are finding some slow times and inspiration for these quieter days.
With warm wishes
Kim x
Ps — you can now reread all the Where We Grow letters on substack, enjoy!