For She Is The Storm - Copyright R.Weal 2011

One of my family’s favourite stories about me (of which there
are many), is how I was born under a raging summer storm.
In fact, that August in the year of my birth was a very stormy one and apparently even as a babe, I was never frightened of the storms – mainly I slept peacefully through them.

As I grew I became increasingly fascinated by storms and I’ve always been able to tell when a storm is coming, even before the clouds roll in and the ozone coats the air about us.  Every so often in my life there has been a special storm, one that feels familiar and right.  A deep gravitational pull exists between us, pulling us into each other’s sphere of being, speaking deeply of home and belonging.  She is the elemental force from which an unknowable part of me was sprung the night I was born, my mother storm.

As I sense mother storm I feel the need to go out and meet her; (for I cannot think of her as an ‘it’), to commune with her essence.  I can only describe it as a perfect feeling of being welcomed home.  She always comes when I need guidance or support, when my reserves are low and my spirit ebbing.  She infuses my being, filling me up with her rejuvenating power, firing my creativity with her lightning, warming my heart with her raucous thunder.  And as for her blessed rain?  Oh, to be kissed by her tears – for a moment to be washed clean of all my earthly bonds and pains is a truly indescribable experience.  For when her essence whips about me I am not of this earth – I am the wind, I am the rain and I dance to the thunder beneath the lancing lightning that binds my spirit to her.

Storm Swept - Copyright R.Weal 2011

Whilst I commune with her time stands still and yet moves faster than anything I have ever known.  The exceptional bond between us defies all reason.  When she leaves me I am bereft, for a moment so heartbroken I wonder how I will even find my next breath.  But then the world reasserts itself, my heart beats and I find that I am once again whole, infused with a new lustre and will to go on.  Her gift to me is the elemental sorcery that always resides within me, keeping me safe in the light until she can find me again.

She visited me earlier this month and brought forth a torrent of poetry and art (which you can see here in this post), stoking the fire into life from the dying embers of my creativity.  Below you will find the video I captured of my mother storm and the piece of poetic prose I wrote for her.  I hope maybe some of her power leaps out from them into you.

Thank you mother storm, ‘till we commune again I will ever be your earthbound daughter.

Tread safely in the light.

Wealie x

Reunited

She felt the presence long before she consciously understood. Something called up from deep within her – dormant electricity brought forth into being with only a thought, brightening the very blood within her veins to sing in anticipation.

Alive with power, glowing with effervescence and a pure spark of life, she stepped out into the world no longer entirely a part of it. The wind’s whispers grew into a loving caress, promising the birth of magic to come. Brooding clouds crowded about her, transforming her into an ethereal form. The very weather itself courted her like an attentive lover – framing her like an ancient goddess among men.

And then she knew; knew her storm was calling her home. So long since last they communed, too long since she was filled with the ancient power in her veins and blessed with the mighty kiss of the storm’s tears. So long since she had been absolved of all earthly bounds and shame.

Original Sketch of Storm Goddess - Copyright R.Weal 2011

“Come,” she plaintively called
“Come to me,” she breathlessly heaved
“Breathe new life into my tired soul.
Imbue these wizened veins with the elixir of your simple truth.
Release my true self and I will be your earthly emissary.”

And so her storm came, rushing over, under, around and through her – flooding her system with cleansing power, covering her with tears of joy as it sung her thunderous praises, ecstatically lighting up the sky with the excitement of their reunion. Woman and storm converged in sorcerous communion, her earth bound spirit set free, birthed anew in the tender love of her mighty Mother Storm.

With regretful motion the two were parted, neither knowing when next they would converge as one. But always within they carry a vital element of the other, so that they might always find each other across the long oceans of time and the lost, lonely valleys of each day and night. For in truth they can never truly be parted.

Ruth Weal

For Mother Storm, until we meet again I am ever your earthbound daughter
x

Written during a beautiful Summer Storm

Copyright R.Weal © 7 May 2011 1.10 am

Ben's Heart - Copyright R.Weal 2011

1. The Total Buy Ins – This group of people get swept up in the hallmark ideals of Valentine’s day and feel the need to out do themselves every year with bigger and better presents.  They don’t worry about the inflated price of roses, big and gaudy cards and cuddly toys are a minimum.  Scarily I’m also seeing adverts for things like IPads as Valentine’s Day gifts, which to me is just way over the top.  I mean surely a “token” of your love should not cost £350 +?  Truth be told this group is normally either the fairly young or those in relationships (often fairly new) who haven’t quite left the rose tinted glasses behind them.
2. The Total Buy Outs - This group are the bah humbugs of Valentine’s special day.  They don’t believe in it, won’t support it in any way and generally poke fun out of anyone that celebrates the day in any shape or form.  They are often disillusioned with every other holiday such as Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and of course Christmas, having lost any innocence or childlike wonder some time ago.  A fair few of them are likely to be single, survivors of past relationships or in one that isn’t making them happy and fulfilled.
3. The Wannabes – This group is for those that would normally be in the Total Buy ins, but due to a lack of current love interest find themselves unable to enter into the holiday they love with the same spirit. In fact quite the opposite the holiday can make them more depressed at their seeming failure because they haven’t attained a spiritual oneness with another person.  They desperately yearn for a secret admirer and are crest fallen when no card or flowers land on their door come 14 Feb.  Sadly this group can also be those that become the Buy outs, there expectations never having been met, they give up on the idea of Valentine’s altogether.
4. The Share A Tokens -This group neither loves, nor loathes the holiday and they treat it as an opportunity to just remind a loved one (not necessarily your significant other) that they are loved and cared for.  No grand gestures required, but no bah humbugs either.  A nice personal little card, maybe a back rub or some personal vouchers, e.g. for breakfast in bed.  Basically something that shows you care without going over the top.  There may be a meal and some flowers involved, but on the whole they don’t go into debt up to their eyeballs to fund it!

I like to think I fit into the latter group of people.  Whilst I think it’s nice to have a day that celebrates love and lovers, I don’t agree with the commercialisation of it that leads to such high expectations.  I read somewhere (last year) that a young lad committed suicide because he didn’t know what to get the girl he was seeing for Valentine’s Day and was afraid she’d dump him for it and couldn’t face it.  Obviously he had bigger problems going on, but it highlights a growing trend in our society that more is more and if it were a word morer would be best.

I think it’s important to remember that it is just a day and that if you love someone, every day is an opportunity to prove to them how much you love and care for them.  Cliché it may be, but then it is a fundamental truth that we all know if we take a moment to look beyond the modern voracious need to consume, covet and own that there is more to love than electronic goods, holidays, champagne, flowers, chocolates and cuddly toys. You don’t need the material things or even the hallmark card, you just need to show it in a way that make sense to you and to the person(s) you want to demonstrate it to.  Because when someone withdraws the little touches of affection, fails to say they love you in deeds or words, it is these that you miss, that cut a hole in your chest where your heart belongs.  Gifts can be easily forgotten, but memories, the very best of them, are for life.

This year Ben got a home made Wealie original card (not so strange as I tend to make all my cards), but also including a Wealie original piece of art (the heart design above at the beginning of the article) and a few heartfelt words, plus plenty of love and hugs.  I’m getting a massage and Beef Stew and dumplings. I can think of no better way to spend my Valentine’s Day, though I could do without the cold, I’ve got!

To all of my friends and loved one though I would also like to share a bit of extra love with you today, to let you know that there is space in my heart for you too.  I hope that wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, whomever you are with, that you are loved, valued and special.

Below is my Wealie Valentine’s blessing.  Why don’t you take a moment to give someone your Valentine’s blessing and give the gift of a memory that lasts a lifetime for them and you.

Wealie x

A VALENTINE BLESSING

Felicitations and blessings of love and affection I’m sending to you dear friend
For my heart is too large for one meagre card and the smile this will bring worth more than riches and rings

So with honest reflection, ban all thoughts of rejection, embracing this love and affection
Now knowing this true, hold dear the knowledge that loved are you!

Ruth Weal
12 February 2007 5.20 pm
Copyright© R.Weal 2007

Dedicated to all my dear friends, whose love buoys me when life threatens to sink.

There are a few places that I make a pilgrimage to regularly, where I have a kinship and need to pay homage.  These places are all clustered around three key areas in the South West of England, the Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire, Purbeck Isle in Dorset and Glastonbury in Somerset.  However as I was writing the article to include all the places in those areas it turned out to be far too long, so I decided to make this a three part article.  Today’s article is part one of three and starts with the area closest to home – the Salisbury Plain.

Salisbury Plain

Avebury Stone Avenue - Copyright R.Weal 2010

In, on and around the Salisbury Plain there are a lot of wonderful ancient monuments and sites of historic significance and beautiful landscapes, gardens and breathtaking views.  I love these places and always have done since I was a young child.  Brought up in a family where an appreciation for the richness of history and culture was consistently reinforced and encouraged meant that I was exposed to historic places like Avebury, Silbury Hill, Stonehenge and Kennet Long Barrow on a regular basis.  An appreciation for the beauty and awe inspiring power of nature was bred by numerous visits to places like Stourhead, run by the National Trust and Heaven’s Gate and Shearwater Lake, which are both on the Longleat Estate.

Something about the feats that the builders of the monuments at Avebury, Silbury Hill, Stonehenge and Kennet Long Barrow achieved lent an air of stupefied solemnity to me even as a young child.  I never pass them without a feeling of reverence and pride that I have lived most of my life amongst them and that others travel hundreds of miles for just a glimpse of them and yet right now I drive past them all every day on my way to and from work.

Sunset Stone at Avebury - Copyright R.Weal 2010

Of them all Avebury is the closest to my heart, a place to go and contemplate, the nearest place I have to a church, where I can commune with nature and the power of the Earth itself.  A place where you might find me on the night of a full moon making offerings to concepts bigger than myself.  During the day it is a place I love to have my camera at hand, to capture the desolate beauty of the surrounding countryside, offset against the magnificence of the Avenue and Rings of Stones.  A truly magical and mysterious place that everyone should visit at least once in their life.

When it comes to sheer appreciation of beautiful views I cannot choose between Heaven’s Gate, Shearwater Lake and Stourhead.  All three have very different aspects that I enjoy.

Heaven's Gate Ring - Copyright R.Weal 2007

With Heaven’s Gate most people visit to see the magnificent view down onto the Longleat Estate, but most quickly come to realise that there is so much more to this area, which becomes a riot of colour with the rhododendrons in the spring, the effervescent green of the summer and the autumnal perfection with the turning of the leaves come early October and even in winter the views are quite stunning!  Added to this is the the addition of the Stone Ring and horse shoe of standing stones which were erected as part of the Millennium celebrations.  It’s a beautiful spot for contemplation, photography and an appreciation of the beauty of the British countryside.

As a child we would visit Heaven’s Gate every year for the spring Rhododendrons and the autumnal procession.  I remember thinking it must be some sort of magical place where fairies and angels lived to be called Heaven’s Gate.  In my youth I never quite understood that it was the beauty of the place and it’s views that had lent it such an auspicious name.

Shearwater is a beautiful man made fresh water lake that sits on the outskirts of the Longleat Estate. It’s popular for fishing, sailing, walking, cycling and of course photography.  Shearwater is situated nicely between Longleat and Warminster in a picturesque area of Wiltshire on the cusp of the Deverills at Crockerton.

Last Peek (Shearwater Lake) - Copyright R.Weal 2010

The lake is surrounded by many beautiful specimens of deciduous and evergreen trees and shrubs/bushes such as Rhododendrons.  There’s lots of wildlife on and in the lake, from the fresh water fish – carp, bream, roach, perch, tench and rudd to the many water fowl – Canada geese, ducks and sea gulls.  In the woods the sharp eyed will see numerous grey squirrels and if you’re lucky you might even spot a deer or two peeking out from the dense foliage of ferns.

As a child I used to love running free through the small forest that skirts the lake, walking with my family as my Dad explained things about nature that I found absolutely fascinating and he would make me walking sticks, tickle my back with assorted pieces of foliage and engender a great love and affinity for the woodland around me.  When I visit there these days I am often with camera in hand, but the child within me still has the urge to run wild through the forests and I am transported back to simpler times.

Palladian Bridge and Pantheon view through the trees at Stourhead - Copyright R.Weal 2006

Stourhead was always a full day out.  A beautiful house and managed gardens (I didn’t really appreciate the house as a child).  My sisters and I used to love running through this beautiful garden estate which has various exotic and local varieties of trees some of which date back to the mid 1700s and were planted right at the garden’s inception by Henry Hoare II.  It was Henry who had the gardens designed and created between 1741 and 1780 in a classical 18th Century design, with a central lake as a focal point.  The inspiration for the gardens came from painters such as Claude Lorrain, Poussin and most notably Gaspar Dughet, who painted Utopian style views of Italian landscapes.

The gardens must have been a great labour of love for him and it shows through the attention to detail and the feeling you get of effortlessly walking from one world to the next, so masterfully planned and deliciously executed. Trees and shrubs were brought in from all over the world and successive generations of Hoares added to and enhanced the gardens until it was passed on to the National Trust in 1946 who have continued to care for the house and develop the gardens.

Palladian Bridge in twilight (Stourhead) - Copyright R.Weal 2006

On the surface it would seem that Stourhead bears much in common with Shearwater Lake, a lake at the heart, surrounded by woodland, but Stourhead is a much more controlled and deliberate environment than Shearwater.  This both adds to and detracts from it – the sense of raw, untameable beauty I experienced in the Shearwater Lake forest is missing, but the beautifully crafted temples, bridges and grotto that are dotted throughout the gardens enhance the sense of otherworldliness and a magical timelessness.  The exotic trees and shrubs bring to life vistas many would never have seen without the efforts of the Hoare family.

As a child Stourhead was a place of exploration and adventure, a place to let lose knowing that your parents were just a little way back along the path.  A place to picnic and eat ice-cream in the Spread Eagle Inn just outside the gardens.  I always seem to “glow” when I visit Stourhead, as an adult there are just too many images to capture and like Shearwater Lake and Heaven’s gate spring brings a riot of colour through the Rhododendrons and Autumn is a spectacle of red and gold.

I feel peaceful and right when I’m at Stourhead and that’s a feeling that everyone should be able to experience and cherish.

Well that’s it for this instalment, I hope you enjoyed my memories of the places I love on the Salisbury plain and perhaps I’ve whetted your appetite for a visit.  Don’t forget to watch out for part two of my places of pilgrimage – The Purbeck Isle, where I’ll explore some of my most treasured holiday memories.

Sleep tight pilgrims, see you on the next wagon train.

Wealie
x

The Isle of Purbeck
Glastonbury

Is this what you want from me? - Copyright R.Weal 2007

I read a really good article about depression today called In the Fog by Ginger, who shared her personal story and the things she has learnt about depression and how to cope with it.  If you get the chance it is well worth a read.

It amazes me the number of people that suffer from depression and the common story they all tell of isolation and loneliness.  There is a lot of stigma around depression, I think perhaps mainly because people who don’t suffer can’t quite understand how it works.  They can’t see any visible sign of the disease, they don’t understand how you catch it or if it is contagious and they’re scared by the fact there is no simple cure.  Those that suffer hide their pain and loneliness.  They feel an understandable, but unwarranted shame and weakness, when the truth is far more complicated.  All of this leads to further isolation and more loneliness, often prolonging the suffering needlessly.  The reality is that people with depression, the doctors, psychologists and psychiatrists are not much more the wiser either!

What can we do to lift the stigma?

So many people suffer with depression and stress, far more than admit it and it’s about time we lifted this insidious stigma that has been placed upon the sufferers.  The only way I can see this being possible is if people like Ginger, Shelly, Melissa and I share our experiences and by doing so encourage others to as well.  Please read Ginger, Shelly and Melissa’s experiences and please share your experiences either in my blog’s comments or on your own blog and link it back here.  Let’s take a stand once and for all and shed some light on this murky topic, give solace to those suffering through our experiences of surviving it and helpful tips of how we managed to get through the bad times.  I know when I was at my lowest ebb I would have loved to know that I was not alone.

The artist and depression

One thing I have noted in my discussions of depression with others is that individuals who suffer with depression are often touched with a deep artistic and emotional vein.  They are deeply in touch with their imagination, creativity and the emotional core of their being.  This means they can appreciate the simple pleasures, find beauty in what others might find ugly, will find goodness in unlikely places and are capable of producing the most wonderful, engaging, magical and beautiful works of art.  But in all things there is a balance, a yin to the yang and if an artistic individual has the ability to see the merest light and beauty in life, they are equally capable of falling into the darkness and becoming mired in the ugliness of life.

My personal experiences with depression

Don't Forget Me - Because Sometimes Moving on and Letting Go Isn't Simple - Copyright R.Weal 2008

I have suffered with depression over the years, sometimes to the point at which it became completely debilitating and other times where no one, not even my closest friends and family were aware that I was anything more than a little bit blue.   I think it started fairly early around 14, but I didn’t understand what it was.  I just felt like I didn’t want to be around anyone, I didn’t want to leave my bedroom, let alone the house.  I just wanted to escape into books and my artistic outlets, listening to music, shutting myself off from the real world, existing in an imaginary world where no one could reach or hurt me.  As I was living at home it was fairly mild and went unnoticed by my family.  It was a recurring theme of my teens, but it wasn’t until I was 24 that I had my first real all out fight with depression, which also turned out to be the most cataclysmic!

At 24 I was in a relationship that was stifling me, that I couldn’t see my way clear of and my relationship with my mother had hit an all time low from which it never recovered.  I had no direction, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, though everyone seemed to think they knew who I was, what I stood for and where I was going, what I should be doing and it was at odds with the secret dreams I held deep within me.  In addition to the symptoms I had suffered in my teens I got severe anxiety, being unable to keep down any food, sometimes not even being able to drink water for the severity of the butterflies that took up permanent residence in my stomach.  I lost a terrible amount of weight in a very short time (a lot of people thought I was anorexic or bulimic).  I had severe insomnia and would drive around at night for hours on end, (it was not uncommon for me to do over 100 miles in a night!).  I was restless and yet listless, I didn’t want to leave the house and yet could not stay in the company of my partner.  I barely ate or drank, and on weekends when my partner wasn’t there I never got out of bed and just slept.

Finally I found myself completely exhausted, at my wits end standing at the edge of the ocean with an insidious voice calling out to me of what it would be like to just keep walking and then just swimming out further and further from shore, until my limbs grew tired and cold, my mind peaceful and numb and I could just not worry about living any more, to give myself over to the tide of death and her deadly siren song.  It seemed to me that I did not have one reason to live, not one bright spark of hope in my future and that the world and everyone in it would have been better off without me.  I was so alone, stood out in the wind and rain not feeling the cold or the wet, ready to give up on life at such a young age.

This is not an easy thing for me to share, even as I type this I am transported back to that beach and it brings tears to my eyes, but it is important to me that I share this, so that should just one person suffering read this then they might know that they are not alone, that I have stood where they do now and that through reading this they might see that there is hope.

The Light in my darkness

And in my darkest hour it was my art that shed the light that saved me.  Just as I was contemplating moving my feet forward into the water a single line of poetry entered my head and suddenly for just one more minute I had a reason to keep breathing, a need to live to give birth to the poem that began to beat incessantly within my head.  I turned away from the insidious whispers of oblivion, got back in my car and went home to write the poem and then fell into an exhausted unconsciousness.

The next morning I awoke petrified by my actions of the night before, it was like a terrible nightmare, but I knew that it was real, if not for the poem staring up at me from the paper on the desk.  I phoned the doctors got an emergency appointment and was finally diagnosed and treated for depression with counselling and anti-depressants.

This is the poem that saved me:

THE STORM

It is easy to find oneself lost within the storm. It approaches so silently; no earthly being can escape its wake. Encompassing you within its heartless winds, buffeting your heart with its cool kiss. You stand alone as it beats down its tears of rage, blistering upon your furrowed brow, leave me, please leave me now. Insignificant spec, I cannot hear my heart, I am mute in my discontent and still this storm vents.

“I am lost”, I am losing my grip and I fear I shall fall. Who then shall be there to listen, who shall wait at the foot of the precipice for my ungainly fate? I am nothing, I am not even hate. What does it matter, I hear the hounds at my door, this isn’t my time, this isn’t my place, but who am I to question almighty fate?

Anger seething still within, but I’m so tired, the sea calls out to me through the din. Whispered longing to know my flesh, a reckless abandon rests beneath my breast. Silent entreaty I pray to the night, but my angel has taken his flight. To dance again my one request, I wait upon your true caress.

Ruth Weal
10th November 1999 11.20 pm
Copyright R.Weal 1999 ©

The importance of art for expression and as a coping mechanism

Convergence (A Self Portrait) - Copyright R.Weal 2008

The Storm is just a few scant verses and stylistically not my best work, but it is by far my most important and most deeply cherished!  You cannot under estimate the importance of art as a means of expression and a coping mechanism.

Perversely I have created some of my most charged and beautiful works of art in my depression.  The depth of the emotions that depression draws from me has allowed me to open up my artistry to levels I never would have dreamed possible in my mentally healthy state.

It is an important method of coping with the emotions that you cannot verbalise or cry out.  It gave me a sense of fulfilment that even on my very worst days I had not wasted them because I had written a poem, painted a picture, taken and edited a photograph.  Art gave meaning to my depression, which allowed me to understand it and in turn better know myself and why the depression had taken hold.

Would I take a cure?

I have often wrangled with the idea of what I would do if a quick cure for depression became available. The decision to take it would not be an easy one, for as much as my demons haunt me and can be destructive to my life they can also be instructive, creative and humbling.  My depression is a part of me, part of the balance of my being that makes me a better person I think.

When I took anti-depressants I found myself feeling strangely disconnected from myself, I was flat, no longer able to touch my emotions and engage with the creativity that they drew from me.  It was quite a disconcerting and frightening experience and I took myself off the pills fairly quickly (not that I’m advocating everyone should do that, especially not without consulting your doctor!).

How do I cope?

For me pills were not the answer, there is no quick fix for my depression it is much like a reformed alcoholic of years who continues to go to AA meetings because they will always be haunted by the spectre of the addiction and relapses are always a possibility.  Depression is a silent, insidious creeping disease that can take you by surprise if you don’t take the time to watch yourself carefully.

I am lucky not to have ever relapsed to the state I was in when “The Storm” came to save me.  I am ever vigilant and yet sometimes the depression gets the better of me, but today I understand it and me well enough to weather the storm.  I know how to combat and control it with my coping mechanisms.

Here’s what works for me:

1. Channel the emotion through art - Whatever it is, no matter the medium or how good or bad you think it may be. Get it out, let it live in all its glory and make something positive out of the experience.  All my depressed pieces rank amongst those I am most proud and fond of
2. Share your art and experiences – the first time I got up and read my poetry out loud was a revelation and it is an amazing feeling when people come up to you and tell you they’ve felt that way, or that what you read has helped them too.  Not to mention the wonderful comments I’ve received on my flickr account for my artistic photography
3. Give yourself leave to feel the emotion – Sometimes you have to give in, let it consume you for just a little while to bank the fires and keep control
4. Try and be open about how you are feeling with those closest to you – This is the part I find the most difficult.  I’m a very emotional person, but I keep it all very close to my heart and find it excruciating sometimes to externalise what I feel unless it is through art, but I am slowly getting better at it.
5. Seek help – I had a fantastic doctor when I was 24 who couldn’t do enough to help me.  It felt wonderful just to know that I wasn’t being silly, that I really was ill and the counselling was a great experience that gave me a completely unbiased person to talk to, who didn’t have a stake in the lives of any of the people I spoke to her about.

To my fellow suffers

Though I do not know your names, I know your hearts, I hear your souls crying out.  I have one truly important thing to tell you YOU ARE NOT ALONE and I am here for you if you need me.  Feel free to comment on the blog or email me at info@wealie.co.uk, I promise to respond!

Take what you can from my experience and my art, it is freely given with all my love and friendship and no requirement for you to give anything back.  But when and if you feel strong enough I urge you to share your experiences so that we might lift the veil of silence, burn off the stigma and maybe help another sufferer or two along the way.

Sleep safely, and find me in the newborn night.

Oblivion knows my name and she whispers softly to me.

Wealie x

Other great blog posts about depression

• In the Fog by Ginger on her blog Seamstress of Avalon
• Creative Depression by Melissa on her blog Sugar Filled Emotions
• Grateful for depression by Christine on her inspirational blog Hope despite Depression
• Depression and Chronic Illness by Foxy on their blog Foxy in the Waiting Room

I mustn’t complain though as it has left me feeling quite creative and I’ve been having fun editing the pictures from last weekend’s trip to Portsmouth’s Historic Dockyard, which I will hopefully be posting to flickr very soon and of course writing a blog post.  In the meantime here’s a picture of a beautiful sunset over the Cancun Lagoon in the Yucatan Peninsular, Mexico.  It seemed only right to have a beautiful sky picture to go with my new piece “Sky Dancing”, and what better sky than this lovely Mexican sunset?

I hope you enjoy your little sky dance with me!

Wealie x

SKY DANCING

Tonight I am sky dancing, a weight lifting, a part of me reaching out and touching air, rising up to come back down Released of all disapproval, worries and frowns, caring not for material wealth and worldly renown.

More real than imagined, more imagined than real, once more in the arms of those that went before me, released to truly feel.

Unshackled and relieved, disconnected, but free, I am everything and nothing that I ever was and ever meant to be.

The muses court me and words assault me, dark poetry twists within me, feeding the fire of desire for creation, birth and artistic redemption.

And through it all my spirit’s sky dancing, foot lose and fancy free!

Ruth Weal
17 November 2010 10.37 pm
Copyright R.Weal 2010

Setting Sun over Cancun Lagoon - Copyright R.Weal 2007

Those who have never explored their darker self, nor tread the beat of their darker thoughts are only half the person they could be and therefore cannot truly claim to know themselves. Sometimes those who have only lived in the light are ill prepared for when life slips them into darkness. They sink beneath the rough waves, born away on a current of strong emotions which they are unable to understand or control.

In all things there must be balance, day has the night, the light, the darkness, man stands beside woman, youth becomes age and life becomes death. The secret is how we exist between the extremes and the quest for the balance that we find within them the greatest pursuit of life.

The picture and poem “Dark thoughts run deep” explores aspects of my darker side, my ability to get caught up in abstract thought, which can if I’m not careful lead me to abstraction. I have an ambivalent relationship with my Dark sister, my shadow muse, she is the well source of my art and inspiration, but she also has the power to pull me down into sorrow and depression if I listen too intently to her insidious whispers.

Embrace the darkness, but remember always to keep a hold of the light.

Wealie x

Dark thoughts run deep - Copyright R.Weal 2008

DARK THOUGHTS RUN DEEP

Dark thoughts run deep
They can steal us from the very day itself
Absorbing us in their ceaseless quest for answers
Immersing us in the emotional depths of our core
Removing us from the opportunities of living
Making us less even as we explore ourselves more
Dark thoughts run deep it’s true
But we must remember that we are here and to live is what we do!

Ruth Weal
27 April 2008 7.07 pm
Copyright R.Weal 2008 ©

Ghost of Me is the self portrait below that I tripped out in Photoshop to get a very different feel. It was one of the first times that I played with selective re-colouring and I purposefully chose larger than life colours to convey a sense of unreality to the picture. It’s me, but it’s not me, almost only an echo, or ghost if you will, hence the title.  I used the same base self portrait for another photo, “Fade Me Not“, which has an altogether more challenging attitude about it.  It’s amazing what a little tinkering can do to change the mood of a picture, if only life were as simple!

The poem “As My Destiny Wends” started to take shape in my mind as I was editing the picture.  For some time I’d been toying with the idea of having a poem that was just made up of a series of seemingly unanswerable and self referencing questions.  The look in my eyes in Ghost of Me seemed to have an imploring, questing sense to them once I’d added the blue re-colour.  The eyes invited that sort of poem to work with them and who was I to argue.  So the questions just poured forth and a rather esoteric little introspection of the workings of the Wealie mind at that time was born!

Here’s hoping we all find our feet on the path where our destinies wend!

Wealie x

Ghost of Me - Copyright R.Weal 2007

AS MY DESTINY WENDS

How do we find truth when light obscures the door?
Where do we find answers when the questions are never more?
Who then will be my guide when the path is never set?
Why then should I trust the word of those I have not met?
Wherein lies the truth if the lie is at my feet?
How then will you recognise which face of mine to greet?
Who then can tell me how this calamity will end?
Will I ever know where my destiny will wend?

Ruth Weal
5.50 pm 20 March 2008
Copyright R.Weal 2008 ©

Don’t get me wrong, the great moments are obviously important, they shape our views and opinions, send us down one path and close off another forever, but we only ever exist in a finite space and time and those great moments are over almost before they’ve begun.   I live right here, right now, in this space, in this very moment – I’ll likely remember it for the rest of tonight, I may remember it tomorrow, maybe even in a week, but the clarity of it will surely fade with time, because the importance of this moment was fairly low in the scheme of my life. But like all the memories I have of keeping this blog, it will join the amalgam of feelings I am building, of the contentment and catharsis, the joy and fulfilment that I associate with this space where I freely share something of my art, my views and feelings.

Maybe an example will help clarify my meaning!  I can’t remember every experience of writing or painting, but I remember painting Convergence after my Nan died, how that individual piece helped me to make sense of my feelings.  Then there’s the poem “Witness to the Storm” that was such a powerful and liberating experience of writing my very spirit and essence onto the page in a visceral and enlightening experience.   Those two memories stand out loud and proud, they were pivotal pieces of art that happened and became defining moments in my life, but even as important as they are, they fail to match the overriding sense of purpose, rightness, contentment, catharsis and achievement that my experiences as a whole of creating art over the years of my life has given me.  That body of work to date started as early as 7, when I used to make up stories for my little sisters and comes right up to now, to this blog post I’m writing at this very moment.  Together the collective span of artistic experiences have and will continue to shape my life immeasurably, the collective emotions of those memories are far more important that one single stand out experience.

So that’s what the poem “Between the Rapture and the Ruin” is all about, those seemingly insignificant moments that make up the majority of our lives, that when brought together have the weight and gravitas to create those emotional caveats around our repeated experiences and to elevate the mundane and familiar memories to a status beyond import. The rapture tonight is my words, weaving around me, spilling forth like a font of spiced wine, captivating me as they haven’t for a while and the ruin is a picture, a place I have visited so many times in my life, a beautiful ruined castle that speaks to me on a deep and personal level – Corfe Castle in Purbeck, Dorset, on the South West coast of England.

I took this picture in 2009 on my birthday, it was a beautiful, hot, sunny day, with some truly atmospheric cloud formations that worked very well with the high contrast, black and white treatment.  It seemed a fitting picture to put with this poem.

Take a moment why don’t you to contemplate the great divide between the rapture and the ruin in your life and hopefully you’ll find something magical too, maybe even an ephemeral wisp to hold on to.

Wealie x

Corfe Castle - Copyright R.Weal 2009

BETWEEN THE RAPTURE & THE RUIN

Life is not the moments that define it
Not the rapturous joy
Nor the ruinous pain
Life is the moments in between
Each sunrise
Every sunset
Everything you have ever been and all you are not yet
The cumulative clamour of your every heartbeat
Every reckless breath
Each considered thought
All your comforting words and thoughtless taunts

Life is not the moments that define it
It is the passing through of the seasons
The time that so easily slips unnoticed through the fingers
The complete volume of all your tears both sorrow and joy
Your every seasoned plan or Machiavellian ploy
Each tremulous smile
Every small slight
The sum of all your warm kisses and bitter delights
Every delicate touch
Each blundered fumble
It’s every moment through which you’ve soared or tumbled

Life is not the moments that define it
It’s the passage in between
Grant me not great joy
But spare me great pain
The sincerest wish I ponder
That there is a man with whom I might wander
Who will share with me contentment
Between the rapture and the ruin
Be a part of me like a second skin
On whom I might always lean
Who’ll live with me in the ephemeral wisps of the moments in between

Ruth Weal
14 April 2008 8.22 pm

Copyright R.Weal 2008 ©

Written in an ephemeral wisp, of a moment in between

x

Lady Luna Faces - Copyright R.Weal 2007

I’ve been fascinated by mythology
since I was a young girl, lapping up
any stories of King Arthur, Robin Hood, Sinbad the Sailor and anything Egyptian, Norse and Arabian.  I distinctly remember the first time I saw  Ray Harryhausen’s depictions of Jason and the Argonauts and Clash of the Titans, which created a passion for any Roman and Greek mythology.

In the 1990s a series of 99p mythology books graced my bookshelves in pride of place, which opened me up to a whole new world of mythology that I had previously only touched upon lightly in my Religious Education classes back at school.  Suddenly my mind was alive with Hinduism and the Maya.

All the places I dreamed of travelling to were rich with sources of mythology and colourful cultures that still celebrated them.

I remember watching documentaries on different cultures and histories with my Dad, dreaming of climbing Mayan temples, entering darkened Egyptian tombs and attending colourful Hindu festivities in India at the mouth of the Ganges.

However it is the concept of the “Goddess“, the idea of the sacred feminine and the triple goddess, the maiden, mother and crone that has always drawn me the most.

Triple Goddess Symbol waxing, full and waning

More specifically I’ve been drawn to those goddesses that are associated with independence, strength, fertility, sexuality, love, creation and the moon.  The Egyptian mother goddesses Isis and Hathor, the Sumerian goddess of creation Innana and her Babylonian and Assyrian incarnation Ishtar, the Greek moon goddesses Hecate and Selene, who is also known as Luna and the Roman goddess of the moon and hunt - Diana.  I’ve also been drawn to Kali, the Hindu goddess of eternal energy, a dark and terrifying force.

The moon itself has always had a strange and mystical pull for me, stripping away the bonds of social constraint and freeing me to find the darker realities within myself, which is where I reach out and find my creativity.  My art comes from a dark place, it isn’t pretty and it isn’t always easy for me to birth it, but the process is cathartic, taking the darkness out of me and leaving me able to function in a society that I often feel disconnected and removed from.

The poem Dark Goddess is about that dark place within me, which almost seems to have it’s own feminine personality, which commands and demands me to create, whether it be poetry, paintings or photography like the picture above “Lady Luna Faces”, which is a combination of self portraits overlaid upon a full moon capture.  Both the poem and the picture were created at the bidding of the Dark Goddess within me, my dark muse, my alter ego, sometimes she calls me to oblivion and depression, other times she lifts me to great heights of passion and creativity.  She is a double edged sword a powerful force and perhaps at times scarily redolent of the goddess Kali incarnate within me.

May the dark goddess bless you this night and the force of all creation burst forth within you.

Wealie x

DARK GODDESS

Goddess I am yours, come channel your night within me
My darkness calls out to thee
I feel your silken breath upon my skin
I taste your power sublime within
Let me be your vessel this night
Le me show them how darkness can be bright
Enfold me in your dark embrace
Paint your visage across my face
Birth me from your darkened womb
Free me from my daylight tomb
Let the day be gone
Let me voice your siren song
Seduce them through my darkened eyes
Dispel from me all society’s lies
Dance away my every duress
Peace and solitude in my hands do press
Bless me with your righteous kiss
Dissolve me in the night’s true mist
Goddess I am yours to command
You have only to guide my hand
Dark Goddess your daughter calls to you
What would you have her do?

Ruth Weal
28 July 2005 12.40 am
Copyright R.Weal 2005 ©

I thought that maybe, just maybe, if the muses were smiling down upon me I might just be able to come up with something – and what do you know, the muses were bountiful in bestowing their inspiration and the poem below is my homage to the day.  I hope you enjoy it, I certainly enjoyed writing it and I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out.  I’ve entered it into the Waterstones Facebook Page competition along with my poem from my earlier post Vacant Heart to Rent, so we’ll see how I do!

May poetry lift your heart and illuminate your soul when all around you reality is dragging us down and putting out all our lights!

Wealie x

HOME

Home is me right here, right now with you

Home is the mundane that I know through and through
Home is the knowledge that your love is true

Home is the smile that buoys me when I fear I shall sink
Home is the flush of love that stains your cheek pink

Home is the tears you cannot cry and don’t know why
Home is your secret, soft, sibilant sigh

Home is the memories I hold close through the years
Home is the way you hold me and dispel all my fears

Home is not a place, an entity or psychological concept
Home is the way you held me as I fitfully slept

Home is wherever I feel loved and remember with fondness
Home is friendship feely given that keeps away the loneliness

Home is the humdrum run of my life
Home is the way you stand between me and strife

Home is the warmth that comforts through the long winter night
Home is rounding the corner and you’re coming into sight

Home is the sweetest kiss transporting me to bliss
Home is the loved ones I’ve long lost and will ever miss

Home is the thought of the joy you bring
Home is the first ray of sun and the blossoming spring

Home is the slightest touch that conveys so much
Home is the way my hand you clutch

Home is wherever my heart feels warm
Home is where I’m always drawn

Home is where my soul can breathe
Home is where in troubled times my spirit flees

Home is me right here, right now with you
Home is knowing you feel it too

Ruth Weal
07 October 2010 11.41 pm
Copyright R.Weal 2010 ©

Written for the 2010 National Poetry Day – UK where the theme was “Home”.