Contemplative Inquiry

This blog is about contemplative inquiry

Tag: Contemplative inquiry

‘THE GHOST TREE’

I am aware, now, of leaving October. In Druidry Samhain, the third and final harvest festival, acts as the gateway to winter. I am experiencing this change all around me.

The picture above shows the hard, nutty fruit of a tree. The two pictures immediately below show elegant bare branches. The three together, for me, illustrate the transition from autumn to winter.

This tree is indigenous to South Central and Southeast China, where it lives in mountainous mixed forests. It is moderately fast-growing, reaching a height of 20-25 metres (66-82 feet). Fossils have been found dating back to the Upper Cretaceous period (66-100 million years ago).

Armand David, a French missionary and naturalist, took note of the species 2,000 metres (6,562 feet) up a mountain and sent dried specimens to Paris in 1871. The official species name became Davidia involucrata. It was not introduced to Europe and North America until 1904, where it became a popular ornamental tree in parks and large gardens.

One of the nicknames given to this tree is ‘The Ghost Tree’, which I find irresistible at this time of year. Yet the name references the late spring, the exact opposite end of the year  The picture below shows the ghosts, white bracts (modified or specialised leaves) performing the function of petals. Hanging beneath horizontal branches, on a breezy day, they are said to flutter in the wind. As the Wheel continues to turn, I look forward to seeing them in six months time.

HOUSEBOUND

For the last few days I have been laid low by a bug of some kind. I am housebound. A compensation is that I can look out of windows. The picture above was taken at 7.55 am, just after sunrise and facing east.   It shows balcony railings touched by golden light. What’s outside isn’t clear. The railings seem like golden bars in a magical confinement. Am I being tested?

Later, I stand on another balcony, a little after 4pm. I am facing a little south of west. I feel partially liberated as I am able to encounter the sky in its different moods. It’s late afternoon and still two hours from sunset. But the clouds are louring and the sun on a descending trajectory.

All of this will change next Sunday when our clock time falls back. Sunsets will start  around  5pm and then get earlier, in exchange for the temporary gift of an earlier sunrise.

Yet the balcony flowers, so lovingly tended by my beloved wife Elaine, seem to be unchanging to an onlookers view. It isn’t true of course. They are assiduously pruned. Pots are changed. Yet they are a lasting aspect of the apartment. It’s not a prison at all.

HARVEST MOON HAIKU

wild and broken light

defies the surrounding dark –

I thank the full moon

BEFORE AND AFTER RAIN

It is 6.21 am. I am starting out on my early morning walk. I have entered the docks area. I am looking up and back towards the east. The clouds are suggesting rain. My fantasy is that it will be soft and gentle. Unprotected by rainwear, I will enjoy being rained on after weeks of drought.

In the event, yes and no. The  early drizzle was fine, as I continued – staunchly or stubbornly – to walk away from home.  But the cloud burst, when it came, was fierce and intense. I was thoroughly soaked. My clothes were soaked too. In a more private setting I would have been better off without them, other than footwear. I had to revise my plans.

Reminded once again that nature has its own agency, far more powerful than yours and mine, I made my way home and dried off. In the last stages of the walk  I was earthboound and navigating through patterns of water, some flowing and some still, on the ground. Being, now, a bit wobbly on my feet, this took focus and concentration.

After food and drink in the shelter of my home, I was better able to savour the blessing of this downpour. I now look fondly on the whole experience.

PROSE POETRY 2026

I have recently been investigating and tuning into prose poetry,  getting to know the genre. Now I’m thinking about my own work.

As a start, I have reworked a poem I published in September 2024 (https://contemplativeinquiry.blog/2024/09/17/). I have found that the text asked for substantial alteration. It wasn’t just a matter of changing the arrangement of space.  Despite the cousinship between the two, this is a different piece, written in a different way, at a different time.

“Looking out from limitation, I see a wide world, expectant.

“The beginning of sunset, a liminal moment in the wheel of the day. Facing east, I feel the sun behind me, still warm though on the brink of descent. Facing east, I see pale blue sky, pink clouds, wooded hills. I am held, fleetingly, by residues of sunlight on a majestic hornbeam whose leaves have begun to turn.

“Early evening, early autumn: a whole world in only seeming suspension between one state and another. The wheel continues to turn. Yet to hold a moment, in the moment, with clear awareness and softened heart makes that moment eternal.

“Looking out from limitation, I see a wide world, expectant.”

NAVIGATING ANOTHER HEAT WAVE

I walked today in my local park between 6 and 7am. These early morning walks have become my new normal this summer. After a 5am rise, the sun was climbing ever higher in the sky. I found my world delightfully sunny and cool, moving from 17C/62.6F to 18C/64.4F over the course of an hour. Now, at 11.23 am, it is 29C/84.2F. It will soon be 30C/86F and we will spend 9 hours at this temperature or above. The peak is expected to be 34C/93.2F, at 3pm.

Where I live, in Gloucester, England, the heatwave threshold is 27C/80.6F on three consecutive days. We are now in our third heatwave since the last week of May. This is traditionally abnormal in our historically cool temperate zone, with most of July and the whole of August still to come. Yet people continue to deny that a human made climate crisis is responsible. The fossil fuel lobby is still influential, it’s denial and misdirection still amplified in powerful media and political circles.

I am personally able to adapt to this level of change quite easily. Early rising, early walks, jobs in the morning, afternoon napping, a return to activity in the evening, careful management of a non air-conditioned flat. Being old is a risk factor but freedom to manage my time is a resiliency factor. What worries me is the continuing (perhaps acceleration) of this process. 40.3C/104.54F was recorded on a day in 2022 in a somewhat warmer part of the country. Where is this going?

In the here and now, I see the beauty of the risen sun an hour from dawn. The play of light on a willow tree touched me with delight.

I was also touched by patterns of sun and shade on the park, on a tree trunk and a pathway out of the park. I found these patterns oddly inspiring. I don’t want to let big picture anxieties rob me of the moment. The anxieties are entirely valid, an authentic part of my experience. But the power and beauty of the world in front of my eyes, in an ordinary city park, are there too. A resource to draw on.

SUNSET AND BEYOND

PROSE POETRY: 2019

Still meditating on the way I want to write prose poetry, I notice that recent work tends to have a different feel to the earlier pieces I have read and connected with. This gives me an enhanced sense of a rich tradition to work in.

In The Valley Press Anthology of Prose Poetry, (2019), [1], I find longer pieces with more story telling,  adjacent to flash fiction yet not the same. The poet’s state of awareness continues to take precedence over encounters and events.

Here is an extract from Anne Ryland’s Running, I become. She is in Northumberland, England, running towards the Scottish border.

“Running, redrafting myself, I return to my primal language of sigh and puff and laugh; I become sweat and tear, the low-thud song of my lungs. I become  a woman wintering; I follow the pink-footed geese crossing the hard blue sky in a great wavering W, and when it sharpens to a V, a letter of purpose, I join the formation of those who know where to go and how and why, gliding upstream in their upwash,  their wingbeat. Running, I become the border.”

[1] Anne Caldwell & Oz Hardwick (eds.) The Valley Press Anthology of Prose Poetry: Scarborough, 2019

See also:

https://contemplativeinquiry.blog/2026/06/02/

WAXING

In the dance of waxing and waning, I am enjoying this waxing moment in the wheel of the year. The moon, a blue May moon, has been moving towards full – reaching it today. We are within three weeks of the summer solstice.

For me the energy has been palpable, even on the  days when I was personally fatigued by high temperatures. Plants offered images of this energy, by bursting into full colour – lavender above, poppies and daisies below: power along with beauty.

On one of the long hot evenings, I took a picture some of the birches  planted outside our building. They are getting stronger and, in this season more verdant. Five together are beginning to feel like a miniature grove. Features like these help to make urban Druidry easier. On the same evening I also photographed the waxing gibbous moon. It seemed apt, and resonant with the energy I was experiencing from the sun and on the earth around me.

MAY MORNING 2026

Recollecting a lush 1st May as it was in the late morning. Green and white abundance crowding a knotty tree trunk. Exuberance and fecundity close to the earth. The energy of willow reaching down.

Throughout the day I was reminded that this day was also a full moon – a flower moon. Hoping to take a picture in the evening, I was frustrated by cloud. Yet the power of the unseen moon felt present, all the same.

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