Chant du monde boréal
Sandshifter, 60N.
Where it all makes sense.



Through Chronicles from Arcania, I shall attempt to share walks with you, this poetics from 60N, where I feel at one with our Earth, my sense of place so maritime.

Monday, 13 September 2010

from hellery to heaven

will power

Last Thursday was a hellery.

Doom, iron cast inside my head, as I sat inside a cold room filled with benches, hollow voices, fears and remorse.
When one feels collapse of the world, all slips away through tiles and stones... La comedia del arte dressed in black.
Thank goodness, friends surrounded me.
I shall remember it for a while - wet flagstones recorded our every step until drizzle turned into fog.

and so is hairst

September filled with silver heads, even iris leaves turn to rust, as chlorophyll becomes weaker... Everything changes around us - precocious signs of early gale, the haste with which birds fly away; even ravens seem much darker. Our every sound, voe and wick become a paddock filled with horses' manes. Soon we shall vanish in blackness.

this precious little book of zen

Zen is easy. Zen is life, exactly as it is, here and now. At the heart of Zen is a sense that we are all part of something greater, just like each wave, part of the ocean.

So I went out to be at one with the rest of our universe and stirred my yin inside my yang... 


string of haikus 


Plop, plop, plop,

precocious splash kissed our slate tiles -

love letter from autumn.

Feel my shimmer,

equinox breeze through heather bells,

purple wind chime.




 Shamanic world,

drum and birdsong inside your head -

feel the feathers of the blackbird.


© Nat Hall 2010


...On a lighter note, Kevin MacNeil would smile. I still vividly remember how pitiful I sounded at his haiku workshop series in Lerwick a few autumns ago... There you go, poet-friend and reader, may hellery turn to heaven!  ;-) 

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