We have all become increasingly aware of the dreadful divisions in our society and also our powerlessness in reforming an iniquitous economic system.
The pandemic as driven me forward technologically more than I could ever have imagined. I had used SKYPE before, but nothing else. I had to learn ZOOM and get an iPad for Facetime. I had never recorded either with video or audio and now can do recording and live streaming. I have ordered new computer programmes with a view to making more films but have not had time to learn them properly. This developing technical expertise has empowered me considerably now that the arthritis has increased. I am so glad and life is so much easier. I thought I would miss travel but now I realise how easy it is on the internet. These meetings are amazingly international so easily, I have had to learn how to plan days without travelling so that they are not too full and my eyes do not get too tired. I have had an operation on both eyes and my sight is so much better. I am excited by church services partly live and partly streamed and see this as an important way forward. As the pandemic progressed I realised that I can develop close relationships and conversations digitally. I have been able to come to terms with how exciting my aging can be.
I have had time to think about and plan death and dying – including my own – especially because there have been so many funerals. This has been a mixed blessing.
I have re-established a new and closer relationship with nature, listening to birds and biophony in general. It has made all of us aware of this list relationship and the disastrous effects of this loss.
The Music of April’s Stillness
There is a stillness deepdown things today
I can nearly hear the worms’ journeyings
and the wriggling of the tardigrades in the water butt
The curving edges of the skyclouds are no longer straitened by crosslines
and the fountain burbles an undertone
The falling catkins noiselessly pattern the sunmottled lawn
and the scrabble of the squirrels offers a tooloud rattle
in the pianissimo symphony
The burgeoning green leaves
Will soon be big enough to rustle
Finely tuned branches
perform a graceful dance of varying rhythms
over the bench on which I sit.
All is at rest.
And I long to join.[1]
I have worked at a new theology of the earth and the environment. It has given me time to think.
The wild goddess
I was alone in the church
The vaults curved above me
And I heard a scratching
On the roof
Under the floor
On the door and all the windows
And there was a rushing mighty wind
And a figure flew in
I had not seen one like it before
For her flame filled the temple
And her skirt flowed with serpents
Her hair was filled with honeysuckle
And Old Man’s Beard
Frogs leaped from her mouth
And played gambolling around the statues
They found the font
And the figure sprayed water from her toes
And the font filled
And the frogs laughed
And spewed out tadpoles.
I saw that the floor was becoming transparent
I could see the traversing worms
The burrowing beetles
The termites and the ants
And then I noticed the roof
Was filling with birds
They were attached to the strings in her hair.
Branches were growing out of the walls
And suddenly a fully grown oak tree leaped out of the floor
No sooner was it born
Than ivy started to wind itself around the trunk.
And then I saw people were emerging
From her belly
Of every shape and every age
The hopped, they jumped
They crawled, they limped
They lay in her arms and started to find places in the corners of the church
And I noticed that she was a woman
Struggling to birth all these creatures
For some were minute, some huge
They contained every rainbow colour
Some were still and some moved
Some appeared to be made of wood and stone
And the winding ivy and the honeysuckle fronds bound them lightly together.
“Who are you?” I said
Enveloped in the swirling of the multifarious creatures.
And she replied: “I am the Wild Goddess.
Thank you for letting me in
I have waited so long!”
She raised her hands
And vines circled from them
Dropping grapes
And all were trodden
And the wheeled chairs ploughed over them
The juice flowed into
The silver cups which were appearing everywhere
Shaped from buttercups and daffodils
And all drank together.
“I am called Joy”
She said
And we all laughed
And the sound filled the temple. [2]
What have I lost? I miss being hugged especially by my family. I miss meals in restaurants. I miss shopping but have got good at ordering on line. I miss going away for a break. I miss singing in church. I miss preparing live performances but have devised ways of improvising on the internet – the ZOOM peace choir and creating films from workshops –such as Path through the woods – which is about surviving the pandemic.
[1] June Boyce Tillman May 3rd, 2020. NOTE: Tardigrades are very small creatures. They are never more than 1.5 mm long, and can only be seen with a microscope.
[2] June Boyce-Tillman June 24th, 2020