Category Archives: Bardic

Walking with a Friend

Anthony on Mynydd Du by KM.jpg

Anthony on Mynydd Du by K. Manwaring 2018

 

Going for a stroll with a friend – an amicable amble, as it were – is one of life’s great pleasures. With a good friend the logistics of the day (if it is a long hike) do not become an effort: there is an organic, spontaneous feel to things. Even if a general itinerary has been agreed upon (a rough loop around a valley, a hope to reach a certain interesting landmark) in-the-moment diversions may be taken, arborescent pathways, roads-less-taken, echoing the digressional quality of the conversation, which has a free-ranging spirit. Anything may be discussed –the profane to the profound, the intimate to the trivial, heretical thoughts and transgressive reflections. Nothing is beyond the pale of conversation’s wilderness garden. Nothing is judged weedish and inappropriate. There is no harsh judgement, cultural approbation, twitter-storm, or trigger-happy ‘outraged’ waiting to descend upon you if you say something that is not in line with the popularity morality (or perceived performance thereof).  You can enjoy a hashtag free dialogue for once, nuanced by non-verbal communication – embodied and ensouled in the actuality of the moment, not in some virtual sphere of imagined connection. Beyond the reductive dualism of the binary there is a prismatic spectrum. Bumbling along in our ‘meat-suits’ (as those who spend too long on line call them), at home in our bodies in the true eco-system of things, we ‘arrive in time’ (as Laurie Lee put it). Immersed in the world of the  senses, colours, shapes, textures, smells, sounds explode around you. You struggle up a slippery, muddy path – little more than stream bed – to emerge breathless above the tree-line, onto hoar-frosted heathland, blinding in its brilliance beneath the sharp winter sun in the naked sky. Talking clouds in the frozen air, you pause for a cuppa at a stile. Enjoy the Ice Age view and the burn in the limbs. Share tunnocks and jelly-beans. Ideas and feelings. Stand and stare in an animal state of beingness, like a wild horse on a hillside. And this is enough. With a good friend there are comfortable lacuna in the colloquy, companionable silences. These interstices, when you may walk ‘apart together’ are just as important as the moments of intersection. Critically, they allow us to expand our awareness beyond the anthropocentric, the human bubble, to our surroundings. In silent communion with a landscape, in time, we experience ‘heath-mind’ or ‘wood-mind’, ‘stream-mind’ or ‘rock-mind’. In an encounter with another form of life – a bird on a gate-post, a cow in a field, a butterfly on the breeze, a seal in the surf – our consciousness may flip for a moment. In a flash of fith-fath we may find ourselves experiencing the world from a non-human paradigm. As we walk along, alone, by ourselves, together, we may feel something start to stir, the presentiment of an idea, preparing to be born, given sufficient time and space. We may not be able to articulate it yet, but we know it is there. We incubate it deep inside, beneath layers of woolly hats, waterproofs, thermals, thick socks. Our winter plumage. The Spring in us, waiting in the wings. Too much talk, too much company, can cast these fledgling thoughts out of the nest too soon.  Inspiration needs space to grow. A good friend knows this, notices when you need a moment by yourself. In the same way that they don’t just talk about them self but allow you to respond, and show genuine curiousity and emotional engagement about your own life, so they know when you don’t wish to respond, when you would prefer to be peaceful for a while. Walking with a friend there is a leaning-out as well as a leaning-in. This mutuality, and ease of decision that goes with it, are the destressors of the day alongside the physical and mental health benefits of being outdoors, having a bit of exercise and getting away from it all. The Japanese notion of ‘forest therapy’ (“shinrin yoku,” literally “forest bathing”) walks hand-in-hand with ‘friend therapy’. A friend allows you to be yourself. With a good friend you can drop down into the deep well of your own being – without trying to be anything or prove anything, you are more fully yourself. They invite us to shake hands with our soul. We are reminded of who we truly are, of slumbering potentials and forgotten promises to ourselves. The voices and wishes we thought we’d honour – which once rang out but have been drowned by the clamour of the world, until, in a forest clearing, or by a glittering brook, we hear them again. And they were always there, patiently waiting for us.

Copyright © Kevan Manwaring 2018

With many thanks to Anthony Nanson (& to Kirsty Hartsiotis, for the lovely meal upon our return and further scintillating conversation).

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Riding the Wild part 2

Touring the Wild Atlantic Way and the Mythic Sites of Ireland

 

Blarney Castle by K Manwaring 2015

Blarney Castle. You have to hang over the top upside down to kiss the Blarney Stone. I ended up doing it 3 times before Chantelle managed to get a shot. I should now be blessed with especial eloquence! K. Manwaring. 2015

 

The castle and grounds proved to be far more attractive than I was expecting – the first of many pleasant surprises – this was no Hirstian Dismal-land. Even Ireland’s clichés are beautiful. They have just been so overly packaged and exported (almost literally in the case of the famous stone) that it is easy to be weary and wary of them, but in actuality they are often satisfyingly charming. The effort of reaching the source of the meme is often reciprocated, although beyond that phenomenological experience, there is often something deeper that draws us to these attractions – a yearning, a glimmer of beauty, a feeling … which slips through our fingers the more we grasp for it.

            Rainer Maria Rilke captured it perfectly when he advised: ‘go to the limits of your longing.’ He might have written his challenge while walking the cliffs above Duino Castle, near Trieste (where I have too walked), but he could have penned it about the west of Ireland. And this line of desire drove us farther on. The fact that the route was packaged and well signposted with distinctive blue wavy lines, (echoing the initials, waves, and the pictographic chevrons of burial tombs like Newgrange), made it no less beautiful and dramatic – indeed, without the signs pointing the way, I doubt we would have alighted upon so many obscure coves and dramatic, cliff-top roads. I use the term ‘roads’ euphemistically, for many were little more than gravel tracks, pot-holed and very bumpy. The contrast with the N-roads was dramatic – and the two became the twin-notes of our journey, the straight and the winding dancing in tandem up the westerly coast like a 1500 mile long caduceus. Off the main route there were many opportunities to take even longer detours to headlands, coves, beaches, and attractions – but we soon learnt to do attempt all would have been too exhausting, time-consuming and unnecessary. The WAW offers multiple possibilities. There is fixed route beyond the main one. As with the famously festooned signposts along the way, there are a myriad of possibilities. The route is a melody to riff around. One creates ones’ own version of it, depending on your whim, the weather, and mode of transport.

 

Wild Atlantic Way sign K Manwaring 2015

There are no shortage of signs on the Wild Atlantic Way! K. Manwaring, 2015

 

            Having recently performed our show, ‘The Bonnie Road’- tales and ballads of the Border (Scottish) we found ourselves feeling like Thomas the Rhymer and the Queen of Elfland confronted by three roads – the narrow, the broad and the bonnie – as we traversed hair-raising mountain passes again and again. Roads seemed to lead into the middle of nowhere, and it was often a leap of faith to keep going, and hope the road will rejoin the main route eventually.

 

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Catching our breath after crossing the ‘Bonnie Pass’. Worth the view! K. Manwaring, Summer 2015

 

See the show inspired by our trip!

‘The Hallows’ performed by Bríghíd’s Flame (Kevan Manwaring & Chantelle Smith).

When the world ends what stories will you tell around the fire?

The land is a wasteland – a kingdom of crows. B, a raggedy young survivor on the run, is tired, hungry and cold, and it is getting dark. Then she hears an eerie singing …

Irish mythology meets Post-Apocalyptic Myth-Punk!

Storytelling, Song, Poetry, & Music (Harp, Guitar, Shruti Box, Bodhran, Bones).

31 Jan: Glastonbury Assembly Rooms http://www.assemblyrooms.org.uk/event/brighids-flame/?instance_id=323

10 Feb: Enchanted Market http://theenchantedmarket.com/

1 Mar: Rondo Theatre, Bath http://rondotheatre.co.uk/whats-on/

Search for the Bard of Hawkwood

 

THE SEARCH FOR THE BARD OF HAWKWOOD 2018 BEGINS!

 

Bardic Chair of Hawkwood 1882

The Bardic Chair of Hawkwood, 1882 original eisteddfod chair, donated by Richard Maisey. Photo by K. Manwaring

The annual Bard of Hawkwood contest 2018 has been launched with the outgoing bard announcing the theme. Madeleine Harwood won the contest at the Hawkwood College Open Day last May Day, commented upon her time as Bard of Hawkwood:

 

‘Being the Bard of Hawkwood afforded me an incredible boost in confidence and self worth. Furthermore it enabled me to achieve more in the past 9 months than in my previous 25 years of singing. With new found love and passion plus the support of loved ones I was able to write and record my first album, and many performances have followed, with yet more rolling in for 2018. Most of all it has taught me not to hide in the shadows, to seize every moment and every opportunity, as you never know where it will lead, and for that I will be ever grateful.’

Madeleine, as the outgoing bard, got to choose the theme for this year’s contest: Charm or Ignorance. The judges (to be announced) are looking for the best original poem, song or story on the theme/s, as performed at the Hawkwood College Open Day on May Day bank holiday Monday, 7th May, in front of an audience. Performers are encouraged to memorize their piece, which should be no more than 10 minutes. The contest is open to anyone aged 18 or over who lives in Stroud and the Five Valleys. Along with the poem, song or story (the text of which needs to be sent in advance to the administrator, see below) the entrant needs to write a Bardic Statement, declaring what they would do during their year in office, and how they would represent Hawkwood College, demonstrating an awareness of the College’s values and vision.

The Bard of Hawkwood contest was instigated by Kevan Manwaring in 2014, who moved to Stroud in 2010 from Bath, where he won the Bard of Bath contest back in 1998. He became involved in the running of the ‘Bardic Chair’ and went onto to write a book about the tradition. He says:

‘The Bard of Hawkwood becomes the ambassador for the Bardic Chair, Hawkwood College, and their area. Having been a winner myself (in Bath) I know how empowering it can be – not only for the individual recipient, but also for their respective community. It is about celebrating local distinctiveness, fostering civic pride, and loving where you live.’

The deadline to enter is Monday 16 April 2018. Entries (3 copies of entry and statement) should be sent to: K. Manwaring, The Annexe, Richmond House, Park Road, Stroud, GL5 2JG
Organiser: Kevan Manwaring 01453 763703 kevanmanwaring@yahoo.co.uk

Hawkwood College Tel: 01453 759034

http://www.hawkwoodcollege.co.uk/

 

Hawkwood-College1

The beautiful setting of Hawkwood College, home of the Bard of Hawkwood

 

 

 

Burning News

The old year

is an empty grate,

solstice-black and cold

as a spurned lover’s heart.

Waiting to be filled with

kindling – scrunched news,

or the celebrity tittle-tattle

that passes for it

these days,

fat splinters of shattered tree,

glottal stops of coal,

black bile of angry mines,

the simmering earth

beneath our feet. Its fury

on slow-burn. The fuse of

ancient forests sizzle.

Coal scuttle, clatter and clinker.

With the rasp of a match,

paper curls, catching flame –

spreading like hungry gossip.

Inflammatory rumours

blaze into headlines of fire,

snagging our gaze.

We try to turn away,

but too late.

We’re hypnotized.

 

Copyright ©Kevan Manwaring 2010

(from Immanent Moment Awen Publications 2010)

 

The Visionary City

William Blake’s London

Another England there I saw,
Another London with its Tower.
Another Thames and other hills,
And another pleasant Surrey bower.

 

London 1803

Wapping Docks, 1803

 

 
In April 1803 the visionary artist and poet William Blake left Felpham and returned to London. He wrote to his patron Thomas Butts that he was overjoyed to return to the city: ‘That I can alone carry on my visionary studies in London unannoy’d, & that I may converse with my friends in Eternity, See Visions, Dream Dreams & Prophecy & Speak Parables unobserv’d & at liberty from the Doubts of other Mortals.’ For Blake, London was his dreaming place. As a youth he was said to freely wander the streets of his beloved city and ‘could easily escape to the surrounding countryside.’ And in one famous incident (related by his early biographer Gilchrist) the young Blake was startled to ‘see a tree filled with angels, bright angelic wings bespangling every bough like stars.’

There are many Londons. The visitor can choose which one they wish to slip into – whose skin, eyes, feet to experience it through. For me there is only one choice. The London of Blake, who lived and died within its purlieu...

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(to be continued on http://immanencejournal.com/blog/ soon… )

Kevan Manwaring Copyright © 2017

The Art of Conversation

Kevan outside cafe in Bath

‘It’s good to talk,’ as the old BT ad used to go, as indeed it is with old friends – you can’t beat a good old chinwag, natter, rabbit, conflab, or heart-to-heart – but I think it is even better to listen. In this Age of Oversharing, when everyone posts everything up on social media (as indeed I’m doing here), as though their lives do not exist until given, paradoxically, a virtual reality, people seem more inclined to transmit than receive. Social media’s hall of mirrors encourages our narcissism; the self-filtering of ‘liked’ and ‘followed’, and the tailoring of onscreen ads and content, our solipsism. We are emperors of our own universes, like those encountered by the Little Prince on his interplanetary tour.

And so when conversations actually take place, sorry, ‘face-time’, I’ve found increasingly that people like to talk, but rarely like to listen. Over the years I’ve cultivated my active listening skills – largely through the spoken word scene I’m part of. As host, facilitator and performer it is something I’ve become adept at. But it has also been cultivated by many good friendships. I like nothing better than spending quality time with a friend – giving them my full attention, hearing their news, and sharing mine. But sometimes people – not good friends – take my active listening (when I ‘lean in’ to a conversation and meet the speaker at least halfway) as permission to just talk ‘at’ me, rather than ‘with me’.  There are certain aspects of conversational behaviour I consider irritating, or sometimes, repugnant:

The Downloader When someone talks at you for half an hour without giving you space to reflect or contribute. It may be a nervous response at times, but it is ultimately a form of rudeness. Ironically, it may seem ‘rude’ to stop them mid-flow, but not when they haven’t given you a chance to participate.

The Brinkman: When someone doesn’t respond to what you say in a thoughtful, sensitive way, but merely tries to ‘trump’ it. Each time you contribute something it is like a message in a bottle that remains floating in the ocean, unread; whileas the other speaker keeps on boasting. This may be fuelled by status anxiety, but it is ultimately tedious, and a form of competitive bullying. As soon as you notice it’s happening, stop speaking, turn away, talk to someone else, or try to gently mention it to them. If they’ll listen.

The Interruptor: When the other speaker keeps cutting in, not allowing you to finish your sentences. The interviewers on Radio 4’s ‘Today’ are particularly fond of this aggressive form – except when it’s a Tory politician or an American general. No political biase there…

The Squall: When people speak at the same time, creating a headache inducing white noise – the opposite of conversation.

The Hogger: When someone dominates a conversation, assuming everyone is fascinated in what they have to say.

The Thumber: When someone you are talking to neurotically checks social media or texts every five minutes, or answers their phone and begins having a protracted conversation (which, unless it is an emergency, really can wait). This seems to be an OCD particularly suffered by Generation Y and Millennials, but I’ve seen older people do it as well. It is the height of rudeness. The person in front of you should be given your full attention, and should always take priority over someone not present – unless they are your child or a sick relative/friend in crisis.

The Butter-in: Someone who crashes your conversation, offering an unwanted interjection.

Of course, there are other ‘conversation criminals’, the Mansplainer being one of the worst culprits. What it boils down to is: simply mindfulness – a quality that seems to be getting scarcer in this world. Words can harm or heal. Use them wisely.

Some suggestions:

Conversation is born of generosity. Give not just of your news, but of your listening, time, and respect.

Listen with the heart. Listen to the sentiment of what is being said, rather than the pedantic details. Go with the flow of a conversation. Do not correct someone as they speak. There is no ‘correct pronunciation’, only accents. Goodbye RP and all forms of linguistic Fascism. Celebrate regional differences, different backgrounds.  The diversity of the tongue. The English language is a mongrel breed, absorbing many influences and constantly evolving. As soon as it is fixed, it dies.

Own your opinion. If you make a statement add that it is ‘your opinion,’ not a final judgement. As Charles Darwin said ‘Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge.’ Only offer someone specific advice, especially if of a personal nature, if given permission by the person it concerns. Avoid jumping in, trying to ‘solve’ something. Often people just need to share, to be heard, to be held, to be witnessed.

Walk in someone else’s shoes. Conversation facilitates compassion as we hear one another’s stories; and deepens understanding.

Give someone the gift of your time. Let them share, if they want to. We all deserve to be heard.

Sometimes silence is the best conversation – a conversation with yourself and with spirit. In a conversation don’t be afraid of it – allow there to be natural pauses (a ‘Hermes pause’ is said to take place every 20 minutes or so in a conversation – I always imagine the Winged Messenger putting his feet up and having a cuppa).  Often the ultimate sign of friendship is to be able to enjoy companionable silence together. These non-verbal conversations are sometimes the best of all.

The Taliesin Soliloquies: Greyhound

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I’ll teach that young upstart,

this new dog’s got old tricks –

the fith-fath he fled with.

Long dog now am I,

deadly Sirius,

death at his heels,

snapping, slavering –

a knife thrust, forever forward,

fangs bared in tight death grin,

eyes on fire,

I shall never blink,

never lose sight of my prey.

As swift as a wisht-hound

running through the sky,

the night, my road,

harrowing souls who stray

into the wild-wood.

There is nowhere you can hide,

little hare,

no hollow or shadow.

No leverage, leveret.

Your scent leaves a ribbon of bright noise

my nose follows with ease.

I am drawing near,

I taste your fur

on my long tongue.

Little Gwion, you’ll make a toothsome morsel,

replace the potion you have stolen,

the awen usurped

from my son.

 

Hare-thief, there’s no taboo

that will stop me eating you,

the darkness to devour you

in one gigantic

gulp.

 

 

Copyright © Kevan Manwaring 2017

way of awen by me

From ‘The Taliesin Soliloquies’, originally published in The Way of Awen: journey of a bard, O Books 2010; to be included in the forthcoming Silver Branch: bardic poems by Kevan Manwaring, Awen, 2017 https://www.awenpublications.co.uk/