Land: Essex 9

12th February 2021

Lunar New Year — The Year of the Ox

It has been snowing in London Town. Light fluffy snowflakes have fluttered down, hardly settling, but still… it has been lovely to watch. I have sat and looked out of my window drifting with the bitter wind. I have drifted in my imagination to places near and far, past and present, yet I dare not dream about the future. Who knows what will be happening. Still at home, still unable, still paused, still waiting for life to begin. Maybe today it will begin. The new moon heralds the start of the Lunar New Year, the Chinese New Year. It is the Year of the Ox. I was born in The Year of the Ox. What this means for me I do not know. I dare not look it up for it is bound to be grim, constricting, difficult, demanding. When did life get so difficult? I cannot recall. But today, the sky is blue, the clouds are drifting and the wind is less, kinder, softer as it sways the branches of the plane tree outside of my window. It will be cold but today I am going to the Forest. It is calling me. I have woolen socks and a bright orange cashmere scarf that my youngest son bought me for Christmas. I will be warm enough.

Today I am going to take my singing bowl with me. I will play it to the trees. I want to hear how it sounds in the Forest, outside. I want to listen to the sound resonating and reverberating — in the trees and in me — for the sound it makes feels oddly embodied, like it is coming from inside of me. My eldest son bought me the singing bowl as a present — it resonates with the note D, indicating the Swadhisthana, or Sacral chakra. The colour for this chakra is bright orange. Synchronicity I think as I wrap the scarf around myself. Apart from that I am making no plans, taking no coffee, no snacks. I just want to walk freely and not think, plan, or have any intention. It has been hard to think about intentions lately. Grief affects you like that. Loss, I am feeling the loss of many things at the moment: life, fun, laughter, friends, communities etc etc. But I am open to the possibilities of the Lunar New Year, the new moon, the newness of the day.

I just miss a bus but another one is just behind and I sit peacefully as the bus trundles up to the station. The platform is busy and I watch the clouds drifting by in the blue sky above as I wait. Soon there. Soon I will be in the embrace of the Forest. The train whizzes past the Marshes, where the boggy puddles have iced over, and I watch as a brave child walks precariously onto the ice, but the train is fast and I do not see if they make it across. As we pull into Chingford, the train pauses, waiting for some other train to move. I notice that it is snowing again. Everyone on the train looks up and despite not being able to see their faces under their masks, I am sure some of them are smiling. Snow makes us smile. It’s the positive ions apparently. Or is it the beauty? White fluffy flakes drift onto the ground and when we are finally in the station and able to open the doors, the platform is covered in snow. I pull my jumper sleeves down over my hands as I leave the station and walk across the road. The wind is bitter here. It will be warmer in the Forest I think, as I step quickly over the frozen mud and reach the Plain.

Freezing. The wind is freezing. My eyes weep as I take the path between the bushes, hoping for some protection. The Plain is icy. All the boggy puddles have iced over here too. Another brave child breaks chunks of ice off and carries them in his red ungloved hands as he walks past me with his father. The sun is shining now. The sky is blue and the snow cloud has moved on. I move on along the path, noticing buds on the bare branches of the bushes that are just emerging. Bare. The trees are all bare. Their branches seem to reach towards the sun. A man gets off his bicycle ahead of me to photograph bags of dog poo by the info board. I wait as two women with dogs pass and then I am inside. Inside the Forest. Walking. Looking. Anticipating. Hopeful.

Before me, around me, ahead and above, trees hold tiny parcels of snow. Tiny ice crystals sit on lichen and moss. Fallen tree trunks are covered in pure white snow. The boggy ground is frozen beneath my feet. I step over and onto ice, it cracks loudly and the noise resonates around me. Today, I am listening. Carefully. I walk softly, trying to avoid the ice and find carpets of leaves, slowly turning to mush, and I realise that the clumps of holly that were here the last time I visited have diminished. This has the effect of making the Forest seem even barer, and there is lots of space around me, as if clearings have been created since my last visit. Open. Wide open. I walk trying to breath deeply. Breathing in the cold crisp air and all the valuable chemicals the trees and the understory provide. It is warmer. I am not at all cold. It is magical in here today. I feel like I am in a fairy tale wood. As if at any moment a wolf, or bear might emerge to scare me. But there is only me here. Me and a squirrel or two, rustling amongst the leaves looking for nuts. I hear a distant whistle. A plane passes overhead. The sound of the road drifts across the trees but nothing can shift the calm, peaceful, rooted feeling I have now. Nothing.

I have been reading about vibrational medicine: a long and detailed account of the use of vibrational approaches in medical care: lasers, Cat scans, MRI etc. etc., but the main focus of the book, by Richard Gerber M.D, is subtle energy therapies and how we would benefit from a more holistic approach to health in the West. The author writes about homeopathy and flower essences, which were developed by Dr. Edward Bach in the early twentieth century. I recall that a homeopath prescribed one of these remedies for me on the occasion of another loss, The Star of Bethlehem, but the bottle sits in my medicine tin, unused. It is meant to provide comfort at times of loss. I wonder if I should buy another bottle — the one I have says use by 2012. Bach wrote: ‘From time immemorial it has been known that providential means have placed in nature the prevention and cure of disease, by means of divinely enriched herbs, plants and trees. They have been given the power to heal all types of illness and suffering.’ I find this reassuring. Serendipitous. And it is all here for the taking. The calm beauty of nature sitting silently in winter waiting for the sun to return and reawaken the earth from its deep slumber.

Walking across the path I take a track that is black and icy but it leads towards the brook so I continue, carefully treading around and through. With joy I find that the path that wends through the holly saplings is passable again. I take a leap across the Brook and pause to observe the scene before me. Snow, mud, leaves, trees, all bathed in golden sunlight. It takes my breath away with its beauty. I find a spot to sit, where there is fresh green moss on the ground, and retrieve the singing bowl from my bag. It is cold. It does not sound when I run the wooden striker around it. I hit it and then it starts to sing. I try to open my senses. To hear it in the air before and behind me but I find myself focused intently on it. The sound grounds me and I feel at peace, even as my toes are starting to sting from the cold. I find myself smiling. Just sitting and smiling. I drink some water before walking up the hill, deeper into the Forest. This is somewhere I have not walked before. I do not want to go far but I feel compelled. I am following my instinct. Listening.

I take a track beside some bushes and I notice new growth beginning to emerge — a few brave leaves unfurling as the sun reaches down to warm the cold earth. Soon it will be Spring and the world will feel anew. Ahead, I see ice. There is ice everywhere. Huge pools that have iced over. Tree trunks submerged and sprouting out of the shiny surface, reflecting branches and creating illusions. More beauty. I cannot quite believe this. Yet another scene that takes my breath away. I walk around the ponds, taking in the odd sense of calmness that a frozen world creates. Frozen in time. For some time I imagine. It feels metaphoric for the current situation we are living in. How much longer. How much longer before the ice melts and the earth awakes? I take lots of photos yet I cannot quite capture the beauty of this place. Still, it is in my heart now. I hold it gently, so as not to disturb it or lose it. Can I take this calmness with me? I will try.

I turn my back on the icy scene and wend my way back to the Brook, crossing the bridge, pausing yet again to observe the ferns and the colours that contrast with the dark trunks of the trees: evergreens, blue sky, the blue swing hanging from the tree, the red smudges of paint on the trees that direct the runners, the odd red berry on the holly trees, the bright green mosses at the foot of tree trunks, and the sunlight as it starts to fade, subtly changing the colours of the trees. It is epic this Forest. Today it is magical, spectacular even. It has warmed my heart and brought me to a place of peace. As usual, I am reluctant to leave. But my toes are really cold now. I step right through an icy puddle and I laugh as I pull my wet boot out. It’s ok — I will soon enough be home again, in the warm. I think about how people used to live in woodland like this and how warmer it is amongst the trees than being out in the open. Walking back across the Plain the wind bites but I do not rush. I look back at the tree canopy. I watch as the sun streams through a grey cloud hanging over the Golf Course. More snow waiting to fall. The sun dips below the horizon as I cross the road and make my way back to the station. The train is warm and I sit watching the world go by as we head back to the city. I feel satisfied.

At home, I make coffee and sit down to look at the many photos I have taken today. Some of them manage to capture the scenes but it matters not as they are held still within me. I drift as I imagine myself sitting on the moss, or walking around the icy ponds, observing the strange trees and the shapes they make against the sky. I have found some peace today. I am still breathing deeply. I smiled. I am still smiling. I pick up a book to read: The Sufi Teaching of Hazrat Inayat Khan. I have been looking forward to reading it — this evening seems like the perfect time to start. He writes about music, beauty, harmony and this: ‘One moment standing in the midst of nature with [an] open heart is a lifetime, if one is in tune with nature.’ Timeless. This sums up the way I felt today, standing in nature, observing its harmony and beauty. Seeing beauty in all things, finding my senses alive and in tune with my surroundings. All these things are newly found. And it is in the Forest that I found them. I lost and found. I lost some sadness, let go of some loss, and I found some peace. In nature. In the Forest. I will return. Many wonders have I yet to discover. Many things are yet to be revealed. I am still listening. I am still holding things in my heart. Love and loss, inextricably linked.