Contemplative Inquiry

Above: Alney Island, Gloucester (1) at 7.38am on Wednesday 26 August. Much of it is a flat and open space, and the ground on that day  was neither  parched nor waterlogged.

When I went there it was almost deserted. I enjoyed the taste of solitary freedom on this end-of-summer morning. I felt held by the land and the sky above it: I belonged there. I didn’t need human company. My simple link to this space, in its fullness and its stillness, was enough.

It helped that the wheel of the year was turning in a recognisable way, offering  non-challenging change well within my comfort zone. There was nothing to be afraid of on the horizon. Not on 26 August 2026. Not on this day.

The more enclosed woods (below, 7.45am) felt the same. There were green leaves and brown, evidence of gentle refreshing rain, and the leaf fall not excessive for the time of year. The sun that lit up areas of foliage was a gentle one. I was as well held under the canopy as I had been under the early morning sky. The whole experience was a simple pleasure, clearly demarcated within time yet somehow also beyond it.

(1) For a contrasting experience, see:

A BRIEF TASTE OF THE WILD

Classically, the dog days were the hottest, most humid and uncomfortable weeks of summer, typically running from 3 July to 11 August. This year, we had this experience on steroids, bursting its date boundaries at both ends. Fortunately, some of this period at least featured low humidity. 

But now I’m experiencing a different time. I feel refreshed and alive. Where I live, we have moved into an extended moment of lower temperatures and modest rainfall. The pictures above and below were taken between 7.01 and 7.21 am on 20 August. They show what I would traditionally expect, a late summer day with autumnal features. I now feel at home in a habitat that has space for soft sunlight, water in motion and green growth. Blessings no longer to be taken for granted, and therefore more fully enjoyed.

It is also true that the woods, overall, have an altered seasonal look. We have moved into a time of fruit bearing. Colours other than green achieve prominence, as the daylight decreases. Trees shed their leaves, though there is a long way to go in this process.

I like the way that I can still feel held within a canopy on the path, or see powerful reflections where the canal meets the trees. These are small and simple spaces, which can, with the right gaze, seem magical. Today’s walk has had an undoubtedly healing effect.

cool breeze under heavy sky

scent of distant fires

intimations of the light

Today, in the dance of waxing and waning, I saw, felt and meditated on the gradual waning of 2026 (1). I think that the heatwave dramas of the high summer have taken my attention away from the annual decline of the sun’s power. My internal Lammas has been a little late.

Today I went out just after sunrise, now at 5.40 am after the 4.50 of the summer solstice. The temperature  was about 10C/50F, delightfully cool to me. The unseen moon was a waning crescent.

Arriving  at the Llanthony Priory physic garden, I sat down and looked around  me. I noticed and internalised the mellow quality of the sunlight, as I experienced it, half an hour after sunrise.

It was a light that did not glare and seemed to mingle with the shade, rather than trying to drive it away. Holding, rather than dominating the space, it felt both weaker and wiser that the sun at its zenith. It was certainly a good space to sit in and to harvest my responses.

(1) see also:

WAXING