Mab of Dream

On Friday morning, Fair Trade Kate and I were up early. She drove us to Haworth, where the Bronte sisters lived. Bit of background here, I've been there twice before, but on both occasions there was some reason (both times a person) why we couldn't go to Top Withins. The last time, Kate and I promised ourselves that we would go back. We kept that promise. Part of it was a great idea for a day out; part of it was keeping the promise - a birdie in the faces of those two who stopped us both going before and me going alone the time before that; part of it was reward for the shitness that was 2004.

'Oh, I'm burning! I wish I were out of doors! I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free; and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am I so changed? Why does my blood rush into a hell of a tumult at a few words? I'm sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills. Open the window again wide: fasten it open! Quick, why don't you move?"

"Because I won't give you your death of cold,"

"You won't give me a chance of life, you mean... However, I'm not helpless, yet: I'll open it myself."
~'Wuthering Heights' by Emily Bronte

Some say that Top Withins is Wuthering Heights. It's the ruins of a house high up in the moors, but within walking distance of the house where Emily lived. I've been there now and I believe those that say so. It looks like Wuthering Heights, the building itself and its terrain. It felt like Wuthering Heights.

I'm ahead of myself. First we wandered around Haworth itself. I've been there too, twice before, but the main road is steep and cobbled, and my companions couldn't handle it. I went to the bottom on one of those occasions, but not for long. I was called back up the road again. But this time, Kate and I split up and lingered where we wanted. At one time, I was walking down from a bookshop and an envelope fell onto the path in front of me, with my name on it. Kate was sitting at a bench, smiling. I opened it to find a card with Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man inside a Celtic border. She'd written inside: 'To my Jo. Thank you for the promise of a great year. May this be only the beginning of many, many more big adventures. Love you. Kate xxxx' Later, I was in a witchy/New Age shop and a wench was enquiring about reading Tarot. I went into my purse and found Froggie's card with The Witchcraft Shop contact details on it. I gave it to her and said to contact him and ask to be put in contact with Mab. Then she'll get some lessons e-mailed free to her. Having just been in the shop, it didn't harm to big up Froggie's shop too.

We dumped our shopping back in the car; double-checked our supplies (sweets, Kendal mint cake; water); and I did my usual last minute 'Ok, one of us is badly injured on the moors, out of sight and we could be there for hours, what would we need...' And put in an extra packet of cigarettes, just to be on the safe side. Then we set off. It even stopped raining after the first fag break about halfway up the road, overlooking the reservoir.

We'd started at a right pace, but as soon as we were actually on Haworth Moor, off the road, and past the first ruined building, we started to slow down. The wind was giving it some and there were occasional showers, but by then I was sweating so much with the walking that all of that was a relief. It brightened up considerably the further we went.



It was unexpectedly quite busy. Not as busy as the last time, when we'd got as far as Bronte Falls before the call came to go back, but there were a steady stream of people down there. Half wanting to avoid them and half wanting to see the pretties, we kept going on little meanders off the beaten track. The first of the best of these was the waterfall. Kate likes waterfalls. We often find ourselves pulling over on car journeys to better see one; or detouring to climb up one.

Kate spotted this one and was partway up, while I was reading the plaque at the bottom telling us that this was Bronte Falls. I don't know why this picture has come out so dark. I've just lightened it and reloaded it, but it's gone dark again again. :-( I was going to say that I'm not that good a photographer, so you don't get the height here, but the top of the waterfall is roughly what you can see just above the second branch of the tree. It was muddy and Kate had her wellies on, so she fell behind slightly... hence it was me who fell up to my lower calves in a swampy puddle near the top of the falls. LOL I had DMs on, so I was able to climb, practically vertically in places, up to the top of the falls. There the view was wonderful, but more wonderful was that seemingly secret place.

I found magic in everything I saw:

A Fairy Throne; A pool where Celtic warriors of old threw in their swords that the Lady would keep them safe; and, you can't see it here, but there and in the picture on my digital camera, there appears to be a lad peering out from the picture to the top right.

Of course, climbing up there was one thing, but going down again? When your boots have kicked down some of the foot-holds in climbing and the mud has made everything slippy? And the rain is still softly falling... *hugest grin ever* That's why the Lady made heather. We went along until it was obvious that all we were going to get were vertical drops, with the rocks and water far below, then it was every wench for herself. I SO LOVED IT! Lying back against the bank, holding onto the sturdy heather with my hands above my head, sliding down until my heels found some purchase, then letting go. Sometimes I dug with my heels until the mud slipped and a niche was formed. By the end, it was sod that, I fell until the heather itself held me. I got to the bottom giggling like a kid and looked for Kate. She was about half a second behind me, giggling her head off herself. She had to wade across the falls themselves though and catch me as I leapt, because I'd have been well buggered trying that in DMs! LOL

We didn't get very far then, because the breck itself was just around the corner and that takes some getting past. Not so much in physical difficulty, because the maintained, well-trodden track and bridge sort that out, but in sheer prettiness.

We were probably there for hours or minutes... time doesn't really mean much, does it? Everywhere I looked, it was just beautiful. The breck cuts through a ravine, so the moors sweep upwards on both sides, with all the heather, sheep grass (and sheep, twisted trees and dancing trees, the bridge and rocks. It was typical of us really that Kate waded into the breck, taking pictures of the rain-swollen water rushing under that bridge, while I lay dreaming amongst the roots of a tree using, as a pillow, a tuft of grass which grew where the ground met its trunk. As she found her seat on a rock at the edge of the breck to watch its flowing, I stared up at broad broughs and then, through their extremities, the slopes of the ravine cut through by some ancient thawing ice age. And that's me and Kate in a nutshell.

Eventually we started off again though, up the opposite edge of the ravine, slowly following the signs to Top Withins. Stopping, of course, for Kate to photograph a stone wall; or me to gush over another copse of trees or another view. We were high up now, so that's always perilous when it comes to getting me to go anywhere quickly. I love heights. I love the fact of being high up; I love the views; I love just sitting there looking and looking and looking, not thinking anything, just drinking in through my eyes the scenery below. Kate had seen Top Withins though and had us practically racing the last bit, until my thighs just went to jelly and I had to sit down! A cigarette later and it was sorted out, but I think my body had just noticed how many miles it had walked thus far. I'm not known for being fit. Five minutes on, around the corner and there was Top Withins.

'I see a repose that neither earth nor hell can break, and I feel an assurance of the endless and shadowless hereafter - the Eternity they have entered - where life is boundless in its duration, and love in its sympathy, and joy in its fulness.'
~ 'Wuthering Heights' Emily Bronte

I climbed upon one of the walls and got the book out of my bag, with every intention of reading it, but the sheer beauty of the view got me. I sat there, transfixed, not knowing which way to look and, just as soon as I'd stopped my vision to see one wonderful scene, I had to move on, looking, just looking, because I couldn't see it all at once. I felt everything that hadn't yet been blown away by the fun and beauty below just drain from me now. A sense of privilege at being me in that place and time that I haven't felt since the Vegas Wiccaning. Kate stepped down off the wall, to find somewhere more sheltered from the wind to roll her fags; and her passage brought her down below my wall. I threw a paper bag into her path. It had in it a little book of Bronte poems and a postcard of Top Withins, which I'd find in Haworth. I'd written inside, returning the sentiments of her card. I stood then, wandering the walls, reading 'Wuthering Heights' until she came back. She has a picture of me doing it, one of the best I've ever seen of me, half-wild, half-studious, looking so calm.

Others came along. A German family, then later a lone woman. One of the German ladies took our photograph.

Then we climbed down and sat on a bench outside, reading passages of 'Wuthering Heights', until a poem grabbed me and Kate skim-read the entire book to herself, while I wrote.

In a little while, we were alone again, so climbed onto the walls to watch the sun go down and darkness start to fall. A beautiful peace; and such silence. Kate got cold, so climbed down. I heard her cry out, 'Oh fu....!' but nothing else, so I didn't jump off, just stared at the sun until she called me. 'Can you come here a moment please?' I meandered out and she was facing the sunset. She pointed, 'Just look at that... the colours... look at the blue, the pinks, the red...' I was looking, grinning, in awe. Then she said, in an echo of the book itself, 'And now turn around.'

So I did. And the Mother Moon was full and bright, filling the sky between the sweeping crags and slopes the ravine; all the land was silver, from here across to the far distant lights of Stanbury and Haworth, the trees in deep silouette and, by the Lord and Lady, it was one of the most beautiful, magical, wonderful sights I have ever seen.

'"Close your eyes and turn around. If it is fair, then so shall be your life..."'
~'Wuthering Heights' by Emily Bronte

I got it! I got it! Talk about telling me in my language on my terms. I just stood there bathed in moonlight, as if face-to-face with the Mother Herself, and it needed no circle to draw down the moon in that place and time. It filled me. It was as if everything made sense. Not just 2004, but everything before that too; everything which had driven me to that moment. I made sense. I don't know how long I stood there or what Kate did. I just know that if I never have another moment of grace like that again, it will be enough to carry me until it's time to go to Annwn.

The eventual walk back took almost as long as the walk there. Not because the whole round trip was between 7 and 9 miles (depending on which source you consult), but because we detoured and meandered and explored and sat for long whiles just being there. The moors, at night, were transformed again in silver and black; everything had a magical air. We didn't bother with the beaten track until we'd found the bridge again and crossed it. Before that, we were cutting across wild moorland, over rocks and fences. I told Kate to listen for the breck, because we couldn't go wrong, but without torches and in the brightness of that full moon, we could see for miles anyway. I didn't need her hearing to get us back and neither did she, really.

We sat for the longest time just up from the breck, where a scattering of huge rocks could have been a stone circle, or might not. I looked across and saw a rock turn into an old woman wearing a shawl. After a while, a whitened, dead stump, which looked like it had been struck by lightning at some time, turned into a dancing maiden. I grinned and wondered where the Mother was, then looked up at the full moon illuminating them both and laughed aloud.

We kept to the track after the breck, but probably only because there were fewer places to deviate from it. That final walk back will stay with me forever. The moon to our right, seeming low enough to reach out and touch, looking at Kate silver in it, knowing myself to be the same. Stopping to look at Orion, the Great Bear, Draco, the twins. Stopping every so often for a cigarette or just to stop and look.

Reality faded in slowly, a mile after coming off the moors, when the road wound around past a pub. There were voices and music, like a distant world, just as magical in its own right, though I think that both of our hearts and minds were back on the moors in the moonlight.

We stopped in the Black Bull, where Branwell Bronte used to drink, and briefly considered staying in Haworth. But a few coffees on, Kate declared herself fit and ready to drive home. That suited me. I was craving the solitude and silence, away from people, just me and Kate journeying somewhere. In a way, I wondered if, had we stayed, and no doubt been enticed onto the moor one last time in the cold daylight, the magic would have evaporated somehow. I wanted it safe inside me and I wanted to be out in the moonlight again. I didn't say any of this to Kate. It was her call, being the driver, and I said I was happy whichever way she jumped.

We drove home and, in the lanes, the song which reminded me of arriving in Vegas, 'King of Birds', came on. It will remind me of that journey now too, linking the two. *pause to grin at the computer screen* We were back in the beautiful Black Country (which has it's own kind of magic, if you've the eyes to see it) by midnight. Still giggling, still full of the everything of it all.

I feel as though I blinked and it was nearly dawn and Kate saying, 'Let's go chase the sun.' We went in Rebecca, seeing the sun rising over Netherton as we drove down by Merry Hill, but we wanted to find a good, pretty vantage point. We ended up in the Wren's Nest, up Dudley, the sun long up and us peering through trees trying to find somewhere for next time. Then sat on a log talking bollocks for ages. We found a totem pole for her garden though, which kicked off a whole adventure in getting it into Rebecca.

The day was spent in Kate's garden then. She and I bouncing ideas off each other in re-structuring the path, then her happily working in the soil, while I played with words. I'm assuming that no-one's still reading by now, seeing as I've gone on so long, so I'll record my poem here - started at Top Withins and finished in Brierley Hill. It's not meant to be 'good' as in sounding good; because it was the wordplay I was messing with. Making it harder and harder as I went along, repeating themes and syllables etc. This is me having fun! LOL

There was a moment when silence
Passed through my soul
And put out the light on
Sleeping troubles; when I,
Quietly smiling, gazed upon
A world of beauty
And knew it for my own.
This hushed, still mind, grateful
Beyond measure, drank deep,
Through eyes wide in
Sweeping wonder, and knowing
Not which way to look.
Lingering, breathing, delight.

There was a trackway where sunset
Paused me; my hills
Crowned with colour, dark
With long shadows. Then I,
Turning slowly, gasped aloud
At the full moon; the
valley flooded silver.
That magic feeling, honour,
Privilege, awe, sank deep;
Sense and psyche
Reeling touched. It healing
The witch within me,
Drawn down to earth by moonlight.

There was a journey on the moors
Placating the core
Of me and the roles that
Make up the whole. Could I,
Pagan, miss when gazed upon
By the world's beauty,
Its claim that I'm its own?
This studious brain, playful
Free from working, banks deep
The wild respite;
As the poet, inspired
Now finds the words to write.
Beautiful, transforming day.

That's going to sound so crap if you can't see what I was playing at! LOL But it was fun writing it. It was more like doing a puzzle than writing a poem. I really should write one properly about that journey; or at least the coming home part up at Top Withins.

After putting the pad down, I did something which is so rare that I was making Kate nervous. I did nothing. I just sat there watching the energies around the plants; the clouds; the sheer enjoyment that Kate was taking in her gardening. I was enrapt in watching the deep blue aura of a daffodil when Kate finally downed spade and asked if I was alright. Bloody yes! :-D :-D :-D So I made a cup of tea for us and then read half of 'The Da Vinci Code' to make her feel better. Mind you, I got into the book, so that was hardly the bind I've just made that out to be. *giggle* And I finished it the next day. The entire of Saturday and Sunday was mainly spent sitting in Kate's garden, writing, reading and just dreaming, unbelievably calm and happy.

Monday was a little weird though. I had a couple of hours reading 'The Old Straight Track' by Alfred Watkins, then craved a full English, so instead of going off out (as I'd vaguely planned... emphasis on the vague there), I went with Kate up Sainsburys. While she shopped, I ordered my breakfast (she didn't want one and I was on a timer!). I'm nose deep in the book, when one of the Sainsbury's ladies came over and told me that the lady in a wheelchair has been trying to get my attention. She feels like she knows me and would like me to go over there. So I did. I didn't know her, but as soon as I approached, she burst into tears and cried out, 'Jo!'

She could hardly speak and was often so frustrated that she sobbed, bouncing in the seat. She'd had a very severe stroke and was mostly paralyzed. I desparately searched the memory banks, wondering who she was, because it's very unlike me to forget anyone or anything. One of the most notable things about me is my bloody memory. I was there a while, still no wiser, while her husband gave me her history. I got ascertained that she had a history degree from the University of Wolverhampton and that she knew me. All those facts were present and correct, but if it was 1993/1994, that would explain the loss of memory, just not the fact that I'd obviously made a very good impression on her. She mustered all that she could and got out the words, 'I wish to see you again.' Though they took a long time and many tears to come. I held her hand, looked into her eyes and willed all the energy and calm I had for her to get so far. I said I would, then my breakfast arrived. Halfway through it, so did Kate. She didn't recognize her either.

Her husband wheeled her over and handed me their address, before showing me a photo of her in her robes. Armed now with a name and what she looked like, I placed her with a whoosh of memory, facts and figures. I told Kate, 'This is Rose, we share a birthday. August 30th... we did Irish history together.' And Rose sobbed her heart out, clutching my hand. This is Rose... she was so vital, energetic, her mind sharp and out-doing me every time in rushing about. Her mind will still be vital, just slipping, with blanks. That is frightening. But if anyone will overcome this, Rose will. I remember her now.

There was a gap in time between Kate going out and Jim coming home, in which I just hung around Selly Oak. I was aiming for the Lickey Hills, but I don't know Brummagen and Rebecca is in danger of losing a wheel, so I didn't want to push it. Instead I wandered around St Mary's Church, then the park, perching on gravestones and under trees reading 'Prince of Annwn' by Evangeline Walton, until I was too cold to feel my fingers. Then I wandered back to Rebecca and sat in her. I had the seat lowered and was half asleep, when the book hit me in the face and I noticed the sunset. But the houses were in the way and, for the first time, I was really bored.

So I 'phoned Georgia. That was fun. That's what I needed, to be canting with mates instead of sitting in a Selly Oak street falling asleep. I told her as much as I was able about the moon on the moors, but probably told her more in the sighs and squeals than I did in words. We were still canting away three-quarters of an hour later, when Jim appeared down the lane.

I thawed out in his house, having a brew and generally having him (my oldest friend, in terms of how long we've known each other... 20 years now, our Jamie...) raising eyebrows at how chilled out I was, until the news told us about the earthquake in Indonesia. I watched, willing the Grove to be roused and sending. I won't tell you who I targetted on the ether to tell, because I have no proof, but it was she who alerted them. Then I sent myself, 'No tsunami... no tsunami...' Watching and waiting until it was time to pick up Ian from New Street.

We spent the night thereon watching three episodes of 'Most Haunted...' which I really got into, then deciding to stay the night. Mind full of ghosts... night-time... driving home... do you blame me? LOL We had a Chinese take-away and talked about Mara, the Buddhist Puck-like being, before going to bed around 3-4am.

Tuesday tipped it down. It was raining from the moment I woke up (with three cats using me as their bed, bless them... quite proud of that actually) around half 1, until the moment I went to bed back in Wyrley Bank at 2 the next morning. In our office today, everyone was canting about what a let down yesterday was and how their plans to garden or go out were thwarted by the weather. I've just sat there silently, smiling to myself and remembering how Ian, Jim and I went hunting pumas up the Lickey Hills. Not with guns or anything, just going to see if there were any, as the rumour goes that there's one running wild up there. We saw several, but they were the size and shape of squirrels.

We got off the main path as soon as possible, climbing up into the trees to see where we would find ourselves. We found nature's own art, or some enchanted lizard turned into wood by a passing baddie; and lay down on the forest floor looking at the hidden lands in the topmost boughs and the kingdoms on the branches. They created a canopy above us, sheltering us from all but the occasional drops of rain, and these we watched falling towards us - not enough to drench us - but making a game of trying to see them furthest up, before they landed on us. There were sculptures in the forest too, a snake lady and two green men. I was enjoying getting muddy again. I do love the earth, it has to be said. LOL

We left the forest for tea and cake, ignoring the horrific screeching that Rebecca made as we turned into Warren Lane. I really am thinking that her back wheel is about to fall off. You can actually see the buckling of it now...

Finally we reached Jim and Ian's house again and I changed clothes into the only things left which weren't either caked in mud or slopping wet from all the playing outside I've been doing. Ian offered to massage my shoulder, which has been hurting since the 1980s. He's a trained masseur now - Indian Head Massage and Swedish Body Massage. I had the former and an hour later was so ethereal and floating, it was unbelievable. Even today, over 24 hours later, I can't click my spine like I normally can and the clicking of my shoulder isn't half so loud. Then I drove home in the pouring rain very, very carefully.

So now, a day later, it's still there. That sense of happiness and freedom, lightness and ethereal nature. In some senses, it's so needful; in others, I'm not sure I can function as I was without that hard shell around me. I read a thread on Kindly Ones earlier that had me feeling sick and crying. I tried to respond and there's a half-finished e-mail in my draft folder waiting, but I pushed it too far and actually did end up throwing up. So I stopped. This time last week, I wouldn't have stopped. I'd have mentally whipped myself into finishing and ended up flaying myself alive in the attempt to save just one more micro-spot of the world. But tonight, I wiped my mouth and came in here instead. Spent nearly three hours re-living those beautiful days. I must be getting better (or worse?). I've ignored all those e-mails in my inbox.

I'm still on the moors really. It has to be said. I'll go to the Grove in a minute and see what's happening there. I've lingered here long enough.



And I still don't know the answer to Anna's question, on the Grove, what is a priestess. Perhaps that is the answer... I don't know, but I'm loving the finding out.

yours
Mab
xxxxx