Mabh Savage
Words and the world passing by; how it sings to me; how I clamour back.
Reaching into Twilight
I’m not watering the plants
I’m reaching out into twilight
Touching the dusk
Not dusting; dusking
Swimming in impossible blue
Under the wary red eye
Of Mars
Silhouette trees a startling shadow play
Against spreading spilt ink
Dripping like the water
From my tiny vessel
Leaves shiver under my
Impossible hands
I’m not watering the plants
I’m reaching into twilight
Diving my hands
Inside the oncoming night.
Live Talk Tomorrow!
Don’t forget, I’ll be live on the Moon Books Facebook page tomorrow! I’m planning to read a little from my current books, talk a little about the themes in my upcoming book which include environmentally friendly paganism, and maybe even read a few of my poems.
I hope to see you there!
Click “going” on the event then join me tomorrow at facebook.com/MoonBooks.
The Strangest Autumn Equinox
I often shout about Autumn Equinox as a time to pause and reflect; to soak up the reds and golds of the turning season and to sigh in the sun before it goes away.
This year, it feels a little condescending to do that. So many of us are struggling because of the current pandemic, either financially or emotionally, or sadly in many cases, physically due to ill health. I hope this equinox carries with it the energy you need to see you through your troubles, and hands to help where needed. May we be resilient during this turn of the wheel, but forgive ourselves and be kind to ourselves because there’s no precedent for this, and despite the cliché, it’s really okay to not be okay right now.
If all is well with you and yours, then that is joyous and long may it continue.
Here is a poem from last autumn about how my toddler manages her mood. It feels apt, although she’s older now and slightly more temperamental! Enjoy 🍁
https://mabhsavage.com/2019/09/18/intermittent-cloud-some-showers/
Calling Young Poets!
Do you know a child who is a budding young poet? If they can write a poem on the subject of:
- Moon and Stars
- Animals
- Weather
- Woodland, trees and forests
- Magic and mythology
Then get them to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard or voice to Dictaphone!) and send it along to ne-disabilities@paganfederation.co.uk
The poems will be collated into a unique volume of pagan poetry by children, which follows fairly hot on the heels of the first Pagan Federation Poetry Anthology published a few months ago. Wouldn’t it be amazing to have a similar volume of kids’ poetry?
Avoiding the News
I used to roll my eyes at people who avoided the news. I saw it as a kind of “head in the sand” mentality. Refusing to accept facts. Living in a dream world.
Frankly, I was a bit of a tool about it.
Over the last decade, I came to realise that to function effectively, sometimes you have to set firm boundaries on the input you’re allowing into your life.
Over the past year, I realised that a constant stream of alarming information can sadly unbalance even the most positive of outlooks.
Over the last six months, I’ve learned that sometimes you have to put down any devices, step away from social media, and just breathe and be with the people or places or things that bring you happiness or peace.
I’m not advocating for ignorance. But it’s healthy to set boundaries and limit the gush of horror pouring out of the screen directly into your brain. It’s okay to say, “that’s enough now.”
Some days I’m just sick of feeling angry or scared or anxious. I don’t have a choice about the latter thanks to my mental health, but controlling the causes of the the former two helps manage it somewhat .
I’ve always felt it was vital to stay informed. To fact check and cross reference and be sure of what was real and what was propaganda. To gently point out when others were sharing old articles or actual falsehoods (usually without realising it themselves). I’m still dedicated to accuracy of information, but not to discovering it at the cost of mental health. When I realised it was regularly well after midnight and I was still trawling through figures, graphs, R numbers, facts about going back to school safely (of which there are very few actual facts indeed) with my mind buzzing like an angry hive, I knew it was time to take a break.
Don’t feel guilty if you have to take a break too.
Saturday Night Takeaway
Do you know what sucks most about other people’s attitudes towards mental health?
The assumption that because you can cope some of the time, you should be able to cope all of the time.
Today was a day off. I worked bloody hard all week and had some spanners thrown in from all over the place and felt weak and shabby. Despite weariness, I hit all my deadlines and had tons of fun with the kids. Yet I still felt that I should have been capable of more, should have achieved more, should have been more.
That, my friends, is the bullshit created from the expectations of others. The pressure to achieve, be productive, not let your illness get the better of you (insert rolling eyes emoji here).
Mental illness is debilitating. Long term mental illness comes in many shapes and forms, but many vary wildly in their severity from day to day or week to week with little rhyme or reason. My anxiety tells me shit is gonna get bad while my depression tells me there’s nothing I can do about it. I am helpless and worthless and living in disparity.
I know I’m not. I know I am enough. I know I am loved, and love. But mental illness (of some types) takes that knowledge away and replaces it with these dark feelings that feel like the overruling authority in your life.
I don’t have any startling insights here or any answers. Dealing with either anxiety or depression or similar is tough, it hurts, and can be even tougher during periods of isolation. I just want to raise awareness of how tough it can be, and that those who don’t understand or experience mental illness should be accepting and caring.
You don’t have to understand what someone is going through to be kind.
And just because someone can cope some of the time, doesn’t mean that they can cope all the time.
Merry Lúnasa
Wishing you all a wonderful first harvest weekend, whether you celebrate Lúnasa, Lammas or Yorkshire Day! All three have meaning for me, but Lúnasa is the festival I celebrate most. Click the link for a poem named for Samildánach, one of Lugh’s epithets.
New poem for my Patrons
A little look at how the fair folk’s influence seems to have sunk its teeth into modern politics.
…we learned to hang iron, throw salt, leave out butter and cream…
Don’t you want the clink clank of gold…?
This poem is available in full on my Patreon. Please consider supporting me for as little as £1 a month, for free poetry, music and more!
Super Saturday
I’ve spent a lot of time over the past 48 hours being super anxious about lockdown easing. Relaxing the lockdown restrictions is great for those businesses that need to get going again and people’s livelihoods, and more importantly people’s mental health which will be boosted by being able to see more people that they want to, return to familiar or beloved settings, and feel a renewed sense of freedom. But of course, covid-19 hasn’t gone away. And I’ve been panicking that folkx won’t do the right thing, that they’ll get plastered, crowd together, pile into pubs and shops maskless and laughing and risk a second wave like no other.
However. I’ve also realised that whatever happens… it’s out of my control. How strangers behave is outside my influence. So instead, I’m wondering what’s made your Saturday super? What’s been awesome? What’s made you smile?
The highlight of my day (all spent at home!) has definitely been charging around the garden with my two year old, spotting snails and berries and laughing at the sky.
Navigating the Bumps
It’s a Friday evening. I’m cuddled up next to my toddler who is drinking milk and getting ready to sleep. I feel something, a sense of nostalgia for something I’m that isn’t happened yet; a familiar yet inexplicable feeling. Then the clouds start to part and a streak of moonlight whitens the sky, somehow adding myriad colours with its pale beauty. I realise the moon is nearly full; I lost 13 days since darkness, and where did that time go?
The trees obscuring the full spectacle suddenly sigh aside in the wind, and I gasp at the spectacle. That round face, as familiar to me as my own, basking in creamy clouds and making silhouettes of us all. The light washes over me like a cool shower, one that quickly becomes reality as the clouds gather back in, hastily burying the moon’s light under their watery bushel.
Such a short-lived moment, yet I’m left smiling for ages afterwards. Minutes stretching onwards like the wet, bumpy roads, walked with a lighter step than before.
Image via Unsplash
