I have not been too well today, I lay in bed for most of the day and read – something that I love but rarely let myself do. My illness was a little bit mysterious and I wasn’t able to get out to make a few offerings to the rock on the hill for Lammastide, what with the endless rain and feeling ill but I was up there yesterday and did a bit of tidying up, taking care of the place a little, which I feel will have to do for the moment.

Last night at about 2am, the neighbours decided that they were going to have a little drunken fun out in the driveway with their motorbikes and because it was a hot night, after they had done their tricks, I wasn’t able to get back to sleep. I lay in a fit of tossing and turning, in and out of the liminality of night, thoughts and visions moving through me in waves – perhaps I was in the first stages of fever even then. Funny how great creative inspiration can come so easily in those shadowy in-between times.

Huge swathes of my book came to me last night. I was really excited; they seemed to flesh out the vague sketches I had been nurturing for quite frankly, a while now. I had idea after idea after idea, all coming to me as if from the unseen realm in parcels, which I was able to unpack right before my eyes. Beings were there on the other side passing me these gifts; certain animals, people and guides whom I was only half aware of, giving me exactly what I need and I woke up in the morning in a little bit of a daze, the vision of the finished book in front of me. I was crazy with so much excitement and relief at knowing exactly what to do – and I was also ill.


I spent the rest of the day reading, not able to eat or lift my head much from the pillow but lying there in anticipation of everything that I know is to come; crazy knowing that what I am going to be writing about has so much to do with the way it had been delivered to me. I have a lot of work to do: many hours of reading and research, plotting and planning, writing and editing lie ahead of me. Maybe this mysterious illness swept in to allow me to take stock and to give me a glimpse of the days spreading out in front of me like a huge, green sea, tantalising in all its richness and depth. More importantly, perhaps it also allowed me to make my own small ritual of gratitude, blessing and offering to the gods and spirits of the land, both visible and unseen, directly from my sickbed.

This evening, I feel fine – recovered just as quickly as I had fallen ill, feeling better than I have done in many weeks, in fact, almost as if my uncertainties have been lifted from me in tandem with the ‘illness’. Strange how things can be blown away from you just like that, like an otherworldly wind cleaning away all that stagnant energy that was going nowhere, accumulating in the body. Strange of all, I feel no need to write anything down yet – it is all inside me, stored safe and ready for when it is needed. There is no rush and that’s how I know that this Lughnasadh, I was, beyond doubt, given the gift of creative inspiration from the unseen world.