– Humans and Chimps share 98.4% of their DNA code
– Dogs and Wolves share 99.8% of their DNA code

This means that, biologically speaking, humans and chimps, and dogs and wolves are essentially the same species.

But it’s another statistic that has fired my imagination more than any other:

– Dogs and Humans share 85% of their DNA code.

Now to a geneticist, that 15% is massive. But to me, looking at sameness rather than difference, I see two species which are 85% the same. But am I 85% dog or is dog 85% me?

A Story

She woke slowly, taking in the sounds of the stirring day outside. She could hear the voices of the birds calling up the sun, the harsh cawing of the crows, winging their way out of their night shelter in the woods, the soft cooing of the doves perched in the rowan tree and the noisy flapping of the pheasant proclaiming his territory at the bottom of the garden.
The day pulled her up and out of bed, stretching gently to encourage her energy to flow again after the stillness of the night. With a quick glance round to see if anyone else was awake she made her way out into the garden, the door clicking quietly shut behind her.
Out in the brighter light of the growing day, she blinked a couple of times to adjust her eyes. She loved these early, fresh spring days when the cold smell of winter was becoming a passing memory and the warmer air of spring brought waves of scent to delight the most sensitive of noses. She raised her face into the breeze blowing gently across the landscape. In it she could smell the daffodils, the budding hawthorn and the old scots pine.
A musky smell began to fill her nose as she wandered down the garden, picking her way through the bushes to the wildest part which she loved. Fox had passed through again last night. Male fox, and in his prime! A tingle of excitement ran through her and her body tensed. She imagined coming face to face with him in the darkness, wondering how big he was and if he would be a good match for her!
Her ears tuned into the bird song. She knew every distinct and different voice. She had no need for the names humans had made up for them, their songs were held deep within her memory field. She had grown up with them but they were already familiar for her mother had been born into this landscape as had her mother before and her mother before that. She stood, mouth slightly agape, ears cocked, breathing in the day, nothing missed. It was as if each new day took her back to her ancestors, to the beginning of time itself, re-connecting with her ancient past, pulling it back round again to her time, her present.

She shook herself and stretched again. Time to go and see if anyone else had got up yet, and, more importantly, to eat! As she walked slowly back through the garden, new thoughts of food started to fill her mouth with saliva in anticipation. She pushed her way back through the door which clicked quietly shut behind her.

You cunning canines, I have seen through your plan, your guile. You knew when you met us what our foibles were, our terrible weakness. You knew what would happen. You used your ancient knowledge and wisdom when we were ignoring ours. When we thought we knew it all and no longer needed nature, you saw the future vision and drew up your business plan.
Your efforts are fantastic. Your creativity breathtaking. Your timing (probably) perfect. Your cunning supreme. Your intelligence unmatchable. Your wisdom timeless.

You pandered to our developing egos, helping out, running with the hunt, running to each beck and call. You made yourselves indispensable. you made us feel safe, happy, loved, clever, superior. You manipulated and controlled us so brilliantly that we were clueless as to what was happening. I take my hat off to you all, ancient wild ones, formulators of the Plan.

I hope it all works out.

Your million myriad forms populate the earth. You survived by sending your spirit underground into the safety of the womb, to wait. You have persisted with endless patience and grace. As we quickly bomb and starve ourselves out of existence, you see the endgame and begin your final phase. As we are forced to face ourselves and our uncertain future, your morphogenic forms prepare for your rebirth. The slow but steady journey home to the wild, your place, your time, your territory.

You will slowly regain your form, patterned and held in your ancient energetic layers, until you complete the cycle, the seasons of the earth’s existence, taking again your rightful place as leader.
I bow to your greatness, to the power of your shields and wish that we had a business plan as good as yours.

And finally, as your spirit and soul reunite in your glorious and magnificent body, you will laugh and tell stories. The heroic myths of how it all began, the tragedy and the comedy, of how you endured….and won.

Joy Waddington, February 2004.

“Wolves are special beasts, so variable genetically that they partly live on disguised as dogs…If dogs were to inherit the earth they would quickly turn into wolves again.”

Edward Hoagland – ‘Lament The Red Wolf’ in:
Out Among The Wolves: Contemporary Writings on the Wolf, Ed by John A Murray, 1993.

Journal Writing
What animal (or other being) would you morph into to survive the insanities of the human world?

I have a personal project to write up the war diary of my late maternal Gran Kathleen Bottomley, or Kitty White as she was called when she signed up to serve in the First World War. She was just 19.
Exploring Kitty’s life then and through a relationship much closer to home, I have been brought into the world of war, military life and trauma. It’s an uncomfortable place for me. I have been brought up in peace time in England, in a middle class home, an education through college and a ‘professional’ job which has brought some acceptability in our culture. Despite the usual ups and downs of life I have lived mostly ‘crisis free’.

Over the last 16 years, through my soul mate, I have been educated in a different way, in the realities of war and what it does to people. This, and stepping back into Kitty’s life, opening myself to their experiences, the unspeakable (literally) horrors and insanities of the human shadow let rip, I have found myself backing off at times and shutting it out. Sometimes, the enormity of the destruction to people and the land, to our hearts and souls, feels unbearable and I feel myself sinking into helplessness.

Feeling this way one day, I turned to my journal and found myself writing a question at the top of the page:

How do I stop the wars?

Sh..! What on earth was I thinking (or not)? Too late, there it was staring at me, challenging me to respond.
Remembering my instructions to participants on my journal writing courses to trust themselves to put pen to paper and write what comes, I started writing as fast as I could and timed myself for 5 minutes.
What I then read made no sense in relation to my question. I had started with irritation that I had asked myself such a stupidly, ridiculous question in the first place. I then followed with a rant on greed, conflict and aggression. Eventually, as I kept reading, I wrote about being who I am, being authentic, open, honest and creative.

My first line of reflective writing opened with ‘So I stop wars by being who I am!!!’

I felt immediately more than a bit pathetic and a familiar sense of helplessness crept through me. No further forward. No blinding ‘aha’ moment or guru-like words of wisdom.

A while later I was checking the page markers I had left in a book by Robert Fritz called ‘The Path of Least Resistance – Learning to be the Creative Force in Your Own Life’.
Of creating the life you want he says:

“One of the most important lessons I have learned in the past 15 years of teaching the creative process concerns the true nature of people. When people are united with their real power – the power to create what they want to create – they always choose what is highest in humanity… People, I have come to discover, are profoundly good. But, you might well think, what about our destructive tendencies? What about all the examples of wars, inhumanity and needless cruelty?
Those who spend their lives destructively are not in touch with their power to create… Power-wielding, manipulation, terrorism, militarism and lust for power do not come from having power, but from not having power” (my emphasis).

The creative path to being united with our true power starts with knowing ourselves well, who we are, what we need, what our passions are and having real meaning in our lives. To know myself well, my deep, authentic soul self, I need to develop a raw honesty and ability to step back from myself to be able to see what’s really going on. This takes a lot of effort and courage.

Journal writing teaches us how to find that raw honesty, to write what we don’t want to read, to trust what comes onto the page and leave it there as wise counsel. So even when like me, you think you have asked yourself an unanswerable question, keep going. Keep writing, keep exploring and trusting what you find and celebrate.

I might not stop a war today or tomorrow or any time soon. But I can be who I am, take the risk to show myself in my true colours and help others to do the same. As we have witnessed again and again in the world this year, individuals added together make an unstoppable force for change.

Journal Writing

Do you have a big, ridiculous, question about something in the world that you feel helpless to do anything about?
Ask it anyway – write it at the top of a page in your journal and then write as fast as you can for 5 minutes without stopping, judging or censoring anything that comes from the end of your pen. Re-read what you have written then write another few sentences about you feel on reading it. Any surprises? any ‘aha’ moments? Does it trigger any other thoughts or memories? Then leave it alone, get on with your day and let it percolate to other levels in your consciousness.

What makes this dark time of year difficult is that we don’t connect with or live by its energies any more. Our 24/7, eternal summer culture wants us to be on the go all the time. Nothing must get in our way. Nothing must be a challenge or a change. When this does happen, we demand that someone else fix it for us quick, or else!

We no longer honour or respect the winter season and remain deaf to her demands on us. We find it difficult to be still, silent, to sink below the surface to a deeper place. But winter does this around and within us whether we pay attention or not, whether we like it or not. Resisting uses vital resources so we become depleted quickly and eventually our bodies say ‘enough’ and we become ill, emotionally, physically, spiritually.

One of the things I love about living in the wilds is the dark. Proper dark that envelops, intensifying inner experience and outer senses. Proper dark that preserves, protects, rejuvenates. We need the dark for our physiological processes within every cell of our bodies. Darkness begins a process of recharging the cell battery, replenishing what the day gone has taken out, so we have energy for the new day to come. But we have to co-operate by being still, silent, asleep.

So I want to invite you to Go over to the dark side to visit and renew your acquaintance, so that you can return replenished. Reconnect with the power and potential of winter’s energies and gifts, however difficult they are to accept.

To Know the Dark
To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is travelled by dark feet and dark wings.

Wendell Berry

Journal Writing

Try this, even for just 5 minutes if you find it difficult or uncomfortable.
Have your journal and pen next to you open at the page you want to write on.
Light a candle and place it somewhere safe (a tea light is good for this exercise). Switch off all the lights so you only have the candle flame. Cover any lights from electronic equipment.
Allow the darkness to envelop you. Sit still, silently, breathing slowly for a few minutes to accustom yourself to the dark.
Write what comes without judging or censoring. You can write in complete darkness by allowing your finger to rest lightly against the tip of the pen and guiding it across the page. Try it and see what you write. Take your time to let the darkness have its say. What questions do you have for the dark?

Remembrance. It means many things to many people depending on our personal experiences. For me it lies very close to home. Remembrance flows silently beneath my everyday life, showing itself every now and then, but at this time of year, when it is visible in the culture,it feels more like a storm surge of emotion.

I thank the spirits that I have not had to grieve for my soul mate as another war statistic. It could have easily been my story. Saying goodbye to the war-dressed figure disappearing beyond the camp boundary, burdened with ludicrously heavy bergen and survival gear. Wondering if I would be returning here to meet him again or whether his ghost would come to find me.

A few years on from this now but war weaves itself into the psyche as an ever present shadow cast wide and long. I have watched the scenes from Wootton Bassett with my heart full, the townspeople silently honouring the dead warriors as best they can. They have honoured 345 warriors this way and I truly thank them for what they have done.

For the warriors living still, the war goes on, whether they are physically still deployed to the battle grounds or not, but in their hearts and souls. War changes people, how can it not? The young lads and lasses that go to war for the first time come back different people. They may look the same on the outside but inside has had a radical shake up. Even when life goes on there is grieving to be done for lost innocence, for the person once known. Those who commit themselves to each other before this initiation have to go through meeting each other all over again. For some it is too much to cope with.

For those who stay together it can be a continuing struggle. Real love, gritty, earthy, messy soul love gets tested again and again. But warriors need this effort from us, this irritating, relentless insistence on being there for them. The horrors of war can leave them feeling shameful of themselves and unworthy of love because of the violence they have participated in. Shame on us, the community they come home to, that we often treat them with such lack of care and respect.

So this is my Remembrance blessing. To all warriors, living and dead. To the souls who have found their way back but for those sacred souls still lost and wandering may the hounds of the Wild Hunt find you and guide you safely home. I honour you all.

With particular dedication to 2365 Kitty White of the Queen Mary’s Army Auxiliary Corps, who lied about her age so she could sign up to fight in the First World War aged just 19. She died in 1989, aged 90.

A Warriors Blessing

When all feels lost
When your heart feels cold
Go deep to your soul’s fire and warm yourself there

When your way isn’t their way
When their right is your wrong
Go deep to your soul’s fire and warm yourself there

When home is just a promise
When love is just a memory
Go deep to your soul’s fire and warm yourself there

When war won’t leave your body
When soul can’t find its way back
Go deeply to the fire of the earth’s soul and renew yourself there

Journal Writing

Write a blessing for a warrior you know or have known
Write a blessing for all warriors, alive and dead

Read them aloud, even if you haven’t got an audience.

Having harvested the kernels of our soul’s growth this year, we now begin clearing our inner fields of leftover stalks and stubble. by doing so we align ourselves with the cosmic cycle of death and rebirth.

Mara Freeman – Kindling The Celtic Spirit

This is the time of letting go of all those things that no longer serve. It is a time of forgiveness for those whose presence in your life has been challenging. It is a time of honouring the dead.

Journal Writing

What are you harvesting from this years growth?
What hasn’t grown well this year and needs to be let go of or re-thought?
What old habits and patterns no longer serve you?

Ask these question of yourself one at a time. Write fast for 5 minutes for each one. Re-read and write a couple of sentences reflecting on what you have learnt about yourself.

If someone close to you died this year, write a piece honouring them. What is their legacy? What gifts did they leave you?

Journal Prompts

Write your own poem using the letters from ‘journal writing’ as the letters to start each line as in the poem above.

Well Hello Autumn!

Autumn is a transitional month. She takes us from bright summer vibrancy to dark winter withdrawal.  She ebbs and flows between the two, preparing us for what’s to come. We feel ourselves being pulled inwards and down and even as the last blast of summer heat brings us up and out again it is already tinged with sorrow and loss. At last we are delivered to winter’s door and woe betide us if we haven’t listened to her warnings.

Life is like this. Autumn is outside and also within us. Inside she is the transition of letting go, slowing down, harvesting, preparing, completing. All transitions ebb and flow, cycling back to old patterns and habits, to what has been before, then in to new patterns, cycles, ways of being we are planning and working towards. Transition times are rarely smooth and even. They go backwards and forwards,  up and down, in and out. Preparation for these times, understanding Autumn within us, can help get us through, build resilience, so that basking in the summery heat of one moment doesn’t leave us helpless from the blast of cold wintery wind the next.

Journal writing helps to tune in to the seasons inside and out. We can come to know the natural ebb and flow of life’s events, prepare ourselves for their impact, learn how to flow with and use this changing, blustery energy.

We can’t change Autumn, she is who she is. But we can write her into our lives, learn her skills of survival and self-preservation. We can honour her colours, and tones, learn to love her moods and gifts. And when we are soaking up that gorgeous heat and suddenly feel a cold chill shiver down our spine, we can truly celebrate her arrival.

Well Hello Autumn!

Journal Prompts

Where in your life do you ebb and flow between the heat of summer and the cold chill of winter?