An Ode to the Old Way

The Old Way, a whispered promise carried on the full moon's breath. Embarking on a year-long pilgrimage, a dance with life, a solace from death. Each lunar cycle, we gather, a kindred, wild-hearted tribe, to forage the earth's plenty, to feast as our ancestors once did. We walk in their footsteps, hands brushing against ancient trees, observing the natural world with a knowing that settles the soul with ease.

For too long, a quiet erosion had gnawed at my core, My confidence as a Forest School leader, a treasure I'd lost before. Not from a lack of passion, nor a world less than beautiful I'd spun, but from a year in North Wales, where solitude’s course had run. A profound, transforming chapter, yet work was a distant dream, Far from community's embrace, a solitary, echoing stream. And then, back to South Devon, managing Outdoor education's demanding role, guiding SEMH teenagers, a constant giving of body and soul. Challenging, yes, an understatement, the weight often felt immense, Doing it all alone, through seasons’ turns, at such great expense. My wellspring was draining, a constant outpouring, rarely refilled, A connection to kindred spirits, a vital thread, unfulfilled.

Now, within your embrace, The Old Way, I re-member my worth, My calling, a primal echo, rooted deep in this fertile earth. My wild feminine intuition, a compass I’d let slumber, awakens with each full moon, breaking free from it's long sleep. This odyssey undertaken, to deepen the knowing I hold inside, to share with wildlings, a wisdom that truly cannot be denied. A tapestry woven of ancient skills, of belonging. Re-rooting myself in timeless, sacred, ancient lands.

An entire phenology wheel of the seasons is to be delved into on this yearlong odyssey and I am adoring every essence of it's unravelling.