Summer Solstice / Midsummer / Litha

The Wheel turns to Midsummer, the 2ost of June. The longest day of the year here in the northern hemisphere. It is said that the Summer Solstice is the Give-Away time of the Sun. The light of the day has grown and has been expanding into its highest lights during these long, endless summer nights here in the north. Filling up the day and spilling it over. On the Scottish Orkney Islands it hardly gets dark and at Findhorn, with a bright sky, I can photograph outside without flash until midnight.

Breathe in deeply the abundance of fragrances in the air and the earth; light a fire; dance; wear wild flowers and bless the bread and honey and breathe deeply again.

And every Summer Solstice is totally different of course, like every day is different despite the sun rising and setting daily. Like the summers, like the whole immense cosmos, we —as the magnificent beings we are— change all the time. This year brings us an exciting mid June astrological constellation, with both the Sun and the planet Venus travelling together into the sign of Cancer, home of the Moon, home to all feelings, the heart and to the mothering quality in us. A great time to come home to ourselves and to the truth that lives in each of us.

In the Celtic tradition and pre-patriarchal times in which the Divine Feminine was honoured, the Goddess would share her power with the Sun King during Summer Solstice and they would sit side by side on their thrones. Let us honour both their energies in ourselves: the feminine and the masculine, as we are both. On these Midsummer Eves let us rejoice and enjoy the immense, sacred energy of the universe while the Sun touches the mountaintops, the seas and land at dusk and dawn. Happy Summer and Solstice!

Read and see more images about the Celtic Festivals of the year at my web page http://www.adrianasjanbijman.co.uk/celtic.html

Blog 45, text and photos © Adriana Sjan Bijman, 2009/2016 http://www.findhornimages.com

Gardening again

Now we write May again and although snow was forecasted for this coming weekend, the sun is out. The chalet, where I am temporarily staying in The Park has a south-facing terrace and herb bed, both yelling to be tended. The gardener in me can’t wait to respond. Weeding is the first thing that needs to be done. With the physical condition I have at the moment — amongst which vertigo with constant dizziness and distorted eyesight— it seems an overwhelming and Herculean task. I do not know how to begin gardening again! Kneeling to do the job? No! Squatting? No way. OK… sitting and moving on the ground then? That might work….  Oh my goodness! Is this something all less-able people have to go through? I never knew!

I am painfully clumsy, like a drunken sailor. For one and a half hour I try to ‘keep calm and keep on weeding’, puffing and sighing while every move of my head causes everything to swirl around. Until I have to stop from nauseousness. It is the most disappointing and frustrating experience I have had in this last half year here in The Park.

But OK, I pruned the sage. I weeded three meters of terrace tiles. I tackled a big long rooted nettle family. They’ll end up in tonight’s soup. With quite some effort I did fill more than half a brown compost wheelie bin with weeds and old branches. I did it! Now I’m proud to have gardened again.

Blog 44, text & photo © Adriana Sjan Bijman, May 2016

Shifting boundaries

One night, I, once again, dream of death; a repeating theme lately. I am waiting for several people to die, and they seem to take ages to do so.  Slowly, they slowly turn into brownish-grey mud beings. I stand aside, witnessing it, left desolate.

It reminds me of a sentence I once read, “Now, in the middle of the journey of my illness, I am left alone and defenceless.”(1)

A realisation pops up that the dying people are part of me; the old me, from whom I want to detach, release or transform. As I am not totally ready to do so, in the dream I feel an uncomfortable sense of guilt towards them, as if I am betraying them. Letting them die seems as if they were not good enough, as if the old me maybe was not good enough? I have to tell them that they were, at the time, but that now I no longer need what they stand for: qualities of my pre-illness past, like impatience, direct sharp communication, and the multi-tasking workaholism. Let those qualities serve other people now.

Time for some homework it seems, as I then dream I am being forced into a gloomy cellar to clean the incredible filthy steps descending before me; a horrible task I have been given to undertake. Finally, after finishing it, I discover an old squeaking door in the cellar, which brings in fresh air and light. What a relief!

My old organisational skills are well placed to open new doors, I think. I would like to invite and integrate a new me, new personalities, as a gift on this journey of illness. Dissimilar to the old me in many ways. Not only physically older, but also wiser, with more experience on the inner. This physical condition teaches me new boundaries to what I can do, and can no longer. At other times, it forces me even to give up all limits and borders, depending on the shifting sands of my energy. It teaches me compassion, patience and slowing down, in fact a lot of slowing down. Taking this in, I realise I now want to live with an evolved set of boundaries, whether I am ill or healthy.

(1) from  The Alchemy of Illness,1993, by Kat Duff

Blog 43,  © text and photo: Adriana Sjan Bijman, March 2016

www.findhornimages.com

Illness: Dark & Light

I am living in the twilight, in the middle of a journey. The door of the past — with its healthy body in a very busy life— has been closed and it is not clear where the road will take me.

“Illness is a simple though painful reminder that we are not the masters of our bodies and our lives” writes Kat Duff (1).Illness is a humbling experience and as such I think, can bring some gifts in disguise. Insights wrapped up as setbacks, in the Game of Life.

After seven months of gradually increasing symptoms, discomfort and pains, instead of a slow or quick recovery, I have to accept and learn to live with this, like many people with long term illnesses have to. It has turned my life upside down, thrown me out of my comfort zone and the fulfilment of a hardworking busy life. It makes me stand apart, in another category, that of the ill, the weak, the elderly, the non-productive. It is a different journey. It feels like that, even here, in a community on a spiritual base, where most people always seem to be so busy and often are on the edge of being burned out, trying to do so well, to save the world or at least save our community. Or simply trying to earn a living and be able to control the ongoing incoming stream of bills. Like I did over the last decades.

At first this big change brought up feelings of tension, guilt and questioning “Why me?” Feeling a bit of a victim. At times I even blamed myself for it from the point of view of certain schools of psychology, that ‘with our thoughts we create our own reality’, so why did I create this? And why can’t I now immediately create a healthy body. It is easy to stumble into that pitfall of being at fault and responsible for illness ourselves. These thoughts are absolutely not helpful to me now. It does not mean I am not willing to look at a deeper personal cause of what my body is doing and how I can help to get out of this predicament; how to make my journey towards a better life. How I can make peace with the symptoms. How we can become allies instead of enemies and how we can start to work for the same goal. For me a goal of balance.

Since I was a young girl, my whole life has been an experience of learning how to have and maintain independence. Although I now know we all are inter-dependent, it is a tough journey to learn to ask for help. I can already feel grateful for and see the advantages of newly learned qualities like patience and slowing down. The ‘being dependent’ and compassion are in progress, so to speak. I’ve always been a multi-tasker, a quick thinker and doer. Slowing down, especially to prevent more accidents with my vertigo-dizziness and only partial eyesight, makes me clumsy. I walk like a drunken sailor. Out of doors with crutches, for my own safety. Constantly having to balance myself is exhausting but also contains the lesson of balancing the way of life. How to bring more balance into my, our lives?  How to bring some light in the darkness? The light of keeping up my spirit, my hope, my goals of renewed good health.

Simple but at times exhausting survival activities like washing, getting dressed, shopping nearby and cooking easily fill my days, next to time to rest.  ”How did I ever have time to work?” I grin and wonder. Too tired to pick up a pen or pencil during the daytime, texts like this only come in the sleepless dark hours of the night, scribbled on and in between the lines, which I can hardly distinguish. It does not matter: I recognised the words and pass them on to you here, as part of my journey. On my way to more light.

© text and photo: Adriana Bijman. photo in the bus at the A96 to Inverness, along the Moray First Coast, 2015.

(1) The Alchemy of Illness, 1993 p 59.

Blog 42, Winter 2015/2016

The joy of flowers and herbs

It has been and it always is a great joy to photograph plants, which I’ve been doing for many years. With an interest in, and love for wild and cultivated flowers since I was a young girl in the Dutch countryside, I now have a large photo-archive full of flowers and plants, made in the areas I lived in or on my travels around the world.

“The wonders of nature are like new every year” author Wendel Berry* writes.   I love gardening and see the daily changes in plants, from seed to bud to blossoming to the releasing of seed again at the end of the cycle. Such a great example of life! The flowers in our gardens are grown in a natural way, without chemicals, just organic compost, manure, love and lots of appreciation. I loved living with them in my own garden at home, at the studio, and in other gardens.

With every herbal greeting card, with every little bag of herbs or seed in it we give you:

The promise of life enfolding

The joy of growing and releasing, all in perfect timing

The blessings of good health

The abundance of colour, form and fragrance

The encouragement to express your love for the Earth

The miracle of Life

—   You are also all that!

Herbal cards:  greeting cards with a herbal gift: seeds or herbs for tea or bath.

The new herbal greeting card series with inside a present from the Findhorn Gardens: Six different herbal greeting cards, (15x15cm/6x6” with coloured envelop) with a cute bag of seed and herbs to grow in your garden or in pot (like nasturtium, calendula and papaver), to make yourself a tea (fennel, lady’s mantle) or to use in the bath (lavender). Wonderfully illustrated with photos and explaining story about the herb. Hand harvested in the Findhorn Gardens. With instructions.  For sale in my online shop http://www.findhornimages.webs.com

·       Life is a miracle, Wendel Berry  (2000)

© text and photo Adriana Sjan Bijman, 2015  blog 41

Beauty and ugliness

Hello everybody

Here some thoughts about health, both in the garden and in my body, and the congruence I see happening between these two. Although my houseplants are thriving, healthy and growing fabulously, so I‘d like to take them as my example.

‘Fear of the unknown is an essential part of the human program', Joseph Dispenza,The Way of the Traveller,(2002)

Beauty and ugliness in the garden

More than 50 strawberry plants, there are black-and redcurrant shrubs, abundant roses, lettuces, calendula, lemon balm for my tea, and many kind of herbs for the picking. I defend my food and plants against the pests who are looking for their next meal. In essence we are all doing the same thing, looking for food to live on. The snails and slugs are enjoying an abundant wet summer in my garden.  They’ve eaten all my zucchini plants (including the yellow flowers); half my beautiful lettuces; they’ve totally destroyed an immense green striped hosta plant, and all of the dahlias; they’re doing their best with my cabbages and broccoli and now the snails are heading for my strawberries.

“No!” I told them. ”You can have the cabbages, but not the strawberries. That’s my limit.” We’re not on speaking terms anymore. So I tried to stop them, using crumbled eggshells, prickly comfrey leaves, with copper anti-slug tape and I even bought them beer. (As a coeliac, I don’t drink beer). I think they’re ugly. I wouldn’t mind seeing them drown themselves drunk in the cans with beer I placed at several strategic places. 

I still have quite some processing to do before I can be at peace with them, before I can see their beauty.

Challenges of beauty and ugliness in the human body

Like my garden, my beautiful, slim, 51 kg, flexible, strong body has its own ugly side to face, invisible to others. For years I’ve been struggling with the untreated consequences of coeliac disease. I now have it quite well under control and am at peace with it, but two months ago the right side of my body went numb. Although it still functioned normally, it is as if it was only partly present. At the same time red spots started to appear on my chest. Neither I, the doctors and nor the hospitals have any idea what is going on. I’m a guinea pig, receiving one cream and test after the other, even antibiotics, all without result; a biopsy, a lumbar puncture, an MRI brain scan; bioresonance sessions, homeopathic and Bach remedies, a thorough clean of my new house after the discovery of the fungus Aspergillus. After two month my illness is still a mystery, as both the spots and the numbness are not only not improving, but getting worse, with severe dizziness, causing me to faint in the street last week.

During good moments I am in peace with it. During other moments, the worry and the fear set in. Then I start imagining, like Don Quixote, my own dragons where there might only just be windmills. Time to face the dragons and maintain the windmills. 

No beauty without learning about ugliness, no love without getting to tackle fear.

Blog 39, July 2015, © text and photos: Adriana Sjan Bijman

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AIR: I believe in Angels

After the grounding ‘earth’ story of my last blog my attention was drawn to some lines of a Spanish poem; in my translation it says: “Roots and wings. That the wings may take root and the roots may fly.”*

The first music I danced to, on my visit to an Experience Week at Findhorn more than 20 years ago, was the song ‘I believe in angels’ and from that moment on, I actually did. Or rather I started to believe, but it was about believing in a different kind of angel to the Roman Catholic guardian angels I had grown up with; now I opened up to the idea of intelligent beings existing in nature - the kind that Dorothy MacLean* calls ‘Devas’.  They over-light the flora, the fauna, landscapes, cities and even to us, people. They are not like faeries or other existing ‘little people’ in the natural realm.

This was all new to me then, but it made so much sense! I can now see angels as part of the metaphysical realm, being present in the air and of vital, integral importance to all life.  It helps me to know that there are higher beings or universal forces out there, beings that see me, love me, know me and give support, inspiration and encouragement. We are not alone! I repeat this every morning and thank them. It makes a difference and I can recommend it to you.

Dorothy says that every place has its own ‘Landscape Angel’. So I imagine Findhorn beach has  one too. And on a beautiful day during a walk along the beach of sand and pebbles at Moray Firth, I suddenly looked up into the bright blue sky. There I saw this shape or figure appear, in between the clouds; like a heart, like an angel…. Do you see it in the photo? 

Here at Findhorn we knew Frances Ripley as a remarkable woman and community member. She made many subtle drawings of the Nature Spirits. In her book ‘Visions Unseen’* she writes how “they have the capacity to show themselves in a variety of forms, or else as formless swirls of colour and light”.  Wow. Well, yes… that’s what I saw…..!  So I sat a bit more on that beach enjoying ‘my’ angel. Until the wind took her away….

It is all in the air, all around us, to give us life — with every breath. The Breath of Life.

Text and photo: © Adriana Bijman, February 2015. Blog 34 

 * "Raices y alas.Pero que las alas arraiguen y las raíces vuelen.” by Spanish poet Juan Ramón Jiménez,  ‘Diario de un poeta recién casado’, Madrid 1916

Moving I- We belong to the Earth

Let me start with the Earth. The song ‘I feel the earth move under my feet’ comes to my mind.  Although Carol King sang it as a love song to another human being, I sing my love to the earth-being, Gaia, and today specifically to this part of the earth at Findhorn village where I live. The ‘castle’ of Culbin Sands Apartments has hosted me for more than eight years. I love the views over the wide dune landscape filled with yellow gorse or purple heather. In bloom they are a colourful tapestry, drawing you in, to be at home in it. And I am. And I have been.

Being touched by the Earth.

I feel touched while I touch the soft sand, the undulations of Gaia’s skin on the beach, and I see I am build like Her, in Her image. I am soft rough uneven broken tough delicate. This soil is calling me again and again. I am hers. In all weather. How the very soil of a place binds us! First it calls us, the next thing it anchors us.

Earth does not seem to go together with ‘change’

Everything connected with the element earth seems to change very, very slowly, like the movement within a rock or a mountain, that seems nothing, doesn’t it? Until it expresses itself in an earthquake, that’s big, overwhelming. But everything is changing continuously. We know that, in theory. Small daily changes are easy to ignore, but they are signs we better keep an eye on to prepare ourselves for the big chances in our life.

Moving house can be such a big change…..

— I do not know yet for this time! — even after I have moved house and country many times. The idea I have to leave my wonderful flat and maybe from here is disturbing and not convenient. I’ll have to un-root, I will be uprooted and maybe even become unsettled for a while, until I find a new home.

Through the process of moving I hope to learn some things,

like about homecoming in myself and improving my adjustment to the changes life gives. To  stay in balance easier, whatever is happening out there. Spiritual teacher William Bloom, a regular visitor to Findhorn, once said: “Some people are not that sensitive to all the stimulus of the world around them, they are very earth-bound and calm.” But like William I am not one of those people! So I’d like to listen more to the Goddess of the Earth, Tellus, Gaia or  call her Terra Mater. To become her daughter. ‘We belong to the Earth’ and even if I might be a wandering daughter, having lived in many places on this planet and travelling for experience and gaining inner wisdom, I belong to this soil, to this part of the earth called Findhorn.

Blog 33 Photo and text © Adriana Sjan Bijman, 31 January 2015

Get to know the real Stars…

There is more to this Christmas Star flower than it looks like at first sight. You might know the Poinsettia —Euphorbia pulcherrima — as a cheery, easy houseplant which is flowering around Christmas and reaches around 30-40 cm. But the plant comes from a tropical climate, originally Mexico, where it is a shrub and can grow up to four meters.

What a presence it is! I was surprised and in joy to meet some of these tree-like beauties earlier this month when I was visiting La Gomera, one of the Canary islands. Its large green leaves slowly, wonderfully change into an overwhelming feast of bright red and orange flowers. It receives the light. It allows the light. This reminds me of Winter Solstice, when we, after some dark months here up in the north, are quite ready for the turning of the sun and receiving its light again; the rebirth of the Sun. Like the Poinsettia we dance to the Light. The Mother (of Auroville in India) received the following, as guidance from the over-lighting being of the Poinsettia: “Opening of the vital to the Divine love- little by little it is no longer the ego that governs, but the Divine.” Read it again. I need some practise to bring this into my life, how about you?

What stays with me, except the plant’s beautiful colours, is this ‘allowing the light in’. Allowing ourselves to be as big and beautiful and bold as we are.  Let us.  

Happy Solstice, Christmas and New Year.

Blog 32 - © photo and text: Adriana Sjan Bijman PhotoArt

Horses, cows and the healing power of animals

With their flowing manes they come to us through our myths and fairytales. Descends from the Przewalksi wild horses from the steppes of central Asia were domesticated and when the human was welcome on the back of this wild mammal, it made a huge difference. It changed history.  A horse is seen as nobler than any other animal. A beautiful animal, true, as well as intelligent and faithful. Different, but for me not necessarily worth more than a panther, elephant or cow.

In my youth on a Dutch farm we had a heavy Belgian draught horse, before the tractors were introduced. We had sheep, chickens, sometimes goats, but most of all we had cows. Many cows with calves, young bulls and heifers. When my parents started their dairy farm at the beginning of the II World War, my father had bought one cow. A cow is not just a cow; there are many kinds. And they’re not as stupid as their reputation tells us. 

Anyway, our farm started with Hoekstra 5, one of those world famous black and white cattle breeds for milk production called Fries-Hollands. Generations of Hoekstras lived on the farm, until recently, when my retiring brother and sister-in-law ended the farm. Only after leaving home, did I get to know other cattle breeds, like the Dutch Lakenvelder and the Groninger Blaarkop  (Groningen white headed cow) and then, in the 70s, as soon as the quota on milk production was introduced, foreign breeds for dual purpose (milk and beef production) were imported. Larger Holstein-Friesians, Italian meaty Piedmontese calves, the Limousin and beautiful white Blonde d’Aquitaine, both at home on French plains, and the Jersey cow. I like cows. Like cows, chickens or pigs, there are many horse breeds too. I ‘m just not so familiar with them.

We hunt animals, eat them or have them as pets and companions near the home or farmstead. It makes me believe these animals committed themselves to be with us humans, even if we think we are the boss and owner.

The native American Indians as well as the Celtic druids said every person has a power or totem animal. Animals as symbols of healing power. Each animal shows us behaviour patterns in which we can discover healing messages; free for us to use. You don’t ‘horse around’ with these powers. The white stallion brings the shield and power of wisdom and teaches that misuse of power never leads to wisdom.

 On my photo I show you one of the beautiful horses and Shetland ponies (horses of a small breed) while grazing at Cullerne Gardens of Findhorn.

Blog 31- Photo & text: © Adriana Sjan Bijman, 2014

Tulpomania

The famous Dutch painter Judith Leyster lived in Haarlem in the Dutch Golden Age, the 17th century. She became the first female ‘Master painter’ and had, like her colleague Frans Hals, a studio and students. To my surprise I once found myself in tears in front of the original oil painting of her self-portrait, hanging in the Frans Hals Museum, in the picturesque ancient street Klein Heiligland in Haarlem. Since I ‘discovered’ her during my art education in the early eighties, I always loved her work. It radiates self-confidence and “joie de vivre”. She inspires me four centuries later. 

Next to her famous oil portraits, she painted tulips, lots of tulips on paper. Her tulip books became very popular and became the first visual catalogues for tulip traders during the ‘Tulpomania’ and its speculation that hit the Netherlands and made the bourse crash in 1635.

Haarlem still lies in the middle of a tulip area. I have great memories of living in that town at the river Spaarne during several episodes of my live. Think of the Netherlands and many people automatically think of tulips, so the famous Keukenhof flower show made ‘Holland’ their theme this year. 

Amidst all flowers I have photographed, tulips have their own unique place, as I always loved them. I created this image to honour the tulip and Judith Leyster.

© text and photo: Adriana sjan Bijman