A massive fire

Thinking of the Paasvuren, the bonfires they still make in spring in the fields in Drente, the east part of the Netherlands, I decided to make my own Paasvuur and, with the upcoming house move in mind, to burn my diaries. it's a great thing to do! So  at the edge of the sea and dunes of Findhorn, with a friend together we sang, shouted it out and danced around the fire. I did a ritual to bless our past with all its experiences of joy and pain and release it together with the old books while we threw them and threw them in the fire. Our memories will stay with us, they are enough.

Deep down inside me, an even bigger fire is burning. A huge fire of anger, outrage, grief, and also of compassion for the suffering. Its flames, spitting out tentacles, trying to claw at my energy, feed on me and overwhelm me.

It has been said that you can only mourn if you can love.

Once, during the preparation for a ritual at Findhorn to shed our tears for the suffering of the Earth, environmental activist Joanna Macy said: “It takes courage to fully live in a fear-phobic culture. The dominant system cannot tolerate the raw feelings of grief and anger about what has been done to our Earth”.  I’m sure it means the anger and fire in me, in you, cannot be seen as only our private pain − to deal with in hidden one to one therapeutic sessions − but as part of the collective (un)consciousness.  The fire in me is for the ancient forests they’ve put to the flame to clear soil for cattle grazing. The fire in me is for the memory of being burned at the stake for the knowledge we had as women about the healing properties of plants, trees and stones; for the rituals we held to honour Mother Earth.

The fire in me is not a cosy barbecue or gas-lit fake wood-burning stove. I want to make a real fire to release my useless old, walk over the hot ashes, and burn away the skin, become raw alive again, renewed.

My fire is huge and it needs attention and to be tended by a real fire-woman.

Blog 36 Photo & text: © Adriana Bijman, April  2015 

Walking on Water

The Delta is immense.  Early mornings the gentle sound of the water called me and I took some long walks, starting along the river Esperita. I walked and walked, turning left, right, along the water, into the forest. The delta is immense. I got lost amongst the many wooden piers at the waterfront. I got drunk between the fragrance of unknown colourful flowers, ripe falling juicy oranges and enchanting high bamboos. I walked and walked.

Was I maybe following the footsteps on this path of the native Guarany Indians who lived here; long long before the Spanish explorers came to this area to settle, take, and kill the Indians. Or were they attacked by the Yaguareté, the american jaguar or ‘tigre’, that lived in the delta and was hunted by the indian for their skin and fat; but which also hunted them? The ‘tigre’ is not extinct yet….

And then, as I walked my way between the lands, crossing stream after stream via the dangerously swaying bridging woods, I only could surrender, to become part of everything around me. 

And then … then I was walking on water. 

The Tigre Delta at the river Paraná near Buenos Aires in Argentina has been declared ‘Biosphere natural reserve’ by Unesco. A photo-installation about the walks has been exhibited in The Blue Angel, Universal Hall at Findhorn from 12 February until 12 March 2011