by Elen Sentier

Quiet, rustling wind, purple-grey clouds, curlews, larks, the sound of the river, the whisper of the trees, the crackle of the fire …

We’re here … waiting … watching

There are spirits all around us and the Spirit of the Land waits at the edge of our circle to see what we will do: she waits at the edge of darkness.

There is nothing to do … as yet. Waiting is what we do. Learning to wait, full of expectancy but with no expectations, is what this beginning-eve is about.

Eastern traditions tend to talk of such times as “clearing” but, for us, it’s much more than that. The eve of a happening like this, a coming-together with Spirit, is like a moment of conception; it’s a collecting-together, an opening-up, allowing otherworld to fill you up with expectancy without having any idea what the happening is going to be like, what you’ll actually do, experience, see, feel.

We sit, almost quivering with stillness,

Neither inside nor out

Neither naked nor clad

Nneither on land nor on water

Neither alone nor accompanied

ng might have called it coming from a place of unknowing …

We are here. We have been called. We have come. And we wait …