Such intensities of identification during these late May days; the hillside, the hedgerows, the fields and woods all infused with a palpable sense of being; and myself the quiet watcher taking it all in, in some way both immersed in it all, part of the whole, and yet also detached, observing it, both included and excluded, glimpsing another world which is also this world.
So it is when we perceive the deep places of the world, beyond the hustle and the clamour of the busy debates behind which, waiting for us to be still and find it, somewhere else calls from the Deep beyond to the Deep within us: a presence that is so real that we wonder why we never noticed it, or perhaps so real that we cannot contemplate it, and turn away to busyness.
But now, in these days, I am blessed with time and vision to inhabit the world’s depths and experience the quiet enchantment that encompasses them. So it has always been for me during a long and busy life that I have had times when that busyness was suspended as the Birds of Rhiannon sing for me and the urgencies and certainties of Time fade into the background. At these ‘times’, when Time slows to a heartbeat lasting for as long as it takes to be in this condition of wonder, I give myself up to the stately pace of Rhiannon’s steed, matching each fleeting second of the world’s time against the minutes,hours,days of her riding across the plains of Annwn, while moving here at a steady glide – synchronising one time with another – so that the two worlds become one and I become one with them.