“When I hear people talk in reverence of far-off goddesses, angels on high and light beings
I often wish, that they would instead, turn their sacred reverie to the bone like roots, the dark fecund earth, the insects and the worms, the weeds and fungi
For they are the ones that carry the spirit of angel, they are the real alchemists
Showing us daily, the wilds spirit of recovery
Turning rubbish into gold, death into life, manure into medicine
I wish we would celebrate more, sing into the trees, the darkness, the soil, songs and prayers of reverie for the incredible beauty, the indomitable will of the wild..
How odd it is, that angels, gods and far off beings seem to be the sensible option, the socially accepted notion
Rather than remember and adore the angelic in the beetle, the bacteria and the seed.”
Brigit Anna McNeill
King Edward Street Chapel 