I can’t help but gravitate towards green. Even better if there is water. So it is no wonder that much of my time on my recent visit to London was spent tracking it.
London is a city I know reasonably well, and love it for its galleries and theatres, but also its parks. This time, there was a speedy gallop through some outer paths of Hyde Park (after accidentally getting off at the wrong bus stop and needing to pace myself quick sharp to make it to a dinner). There was the leisurely jaunt to the funky Broadway market, skirting Hackney City Farm, followed by a lap around London Fields, before tracking Regent’s Canal down through Victoria park and Mile End park, finally meeting the Thames at Limehouse Basin. Another day, I did a big loop from Paddington Basin, meandering some tailored city squares, then through a blossoming Regent’s Park, until meeting the canal and saundering back via Little Venice.
And all the while: the blossom, the bluebells, the birdsong.
There were the lovers on the benches, families picnicking, kids playing frisbee. There was the domestic argument, the homeless person saying hello to passerbys. The street cleaners, the ice-cream seller. The woman wearing crisp white everything looking like she had slid off an ironing board. The girl who asked me to take her photo, then posed, then posed again and again and again. There was the kid tormenting the goose, and the goose simply tormenting back.
And all the while: the dogs, some pruned and clipped, others raggy shaggy waggy , all scruff and welcome.
The park as a vibrant intersection of city life — human, avian, canine, insect, arboreal, foral. I sat for pockets to observe. Cultures, traditions, family dynamics, languages, accents.
I think parks are often considered places of quiet reflection, but here, sitting and observing this glorious slice of life, the sheer variety of everything, I couldn’t help but consider them as points of encounter too.
Putting on ‘foraging eyes’, I could encounter the park as an edible place. Dandelions a plenty. Nettles, wild garlic, cleaver, hawthorn, and the soon blossoming elderflower.
Putting on the eyes of a bee, I could encounter it as haven and food source. Scanning it for shelter, pollinator friendly plants, I was pleased to see that a large section of London Fields had been cordoned for a wild flower meadow, and large areas left to go wild in general.
Through the eyes of a child, I was encountering the park as play. Huge spaces to run and climb, wander through, get lost in, get found in.
Then there were the encounters at the levels.
At tree level, I tried turning my ears to the birdsong. Blackbirds in abundance. Robins too. I could see the dark outlines of the corvids, and some petulant seagulls were staking the ponds. The squirrels were now well accustomed to moving adeptly though the levels - ground, to eye to tree canopy, coming in some cases just a couple of feet away from their human co-habitants. The park as encounter with otherness, as well as the self. At each level, ground to sky, different intersections of life, habitats and needs, criss crossing each other, in perhaps these unlikely urban spaces.
As I was walking, I overhead a wonderful comment from a stranger: “Imagine if London was made into a National Park”, he had said to another.
Imagine if, I thought to myself, thinking already of my next visit, when I’d love to go swimming in Hamstead heath, and dive right into the mix.
This week’s Creative Retreat.
For this week’s creative retreat, my encouragement to you is to take a walk in a park, considering it as a nexus of encounter.
Put on different ‘eyes’ - those of a child, a forager, a bee, a bird. What do you notice now?
And think about the different ‘levels’, at ground level, eye level, tree level. What habitats are you noticing? How might these intersect and interact.
Then, for the storyteller in you. Do some people watching. With someone you see, try to describe what they are wearing in detail. Give them a backstory. Give them a greatest wish. Give them a greatest fear. Now you have the basis for a story… where might you want to take it?!
Feel free to let me know how you get on in the comments section of this post.
May is going to be a very busy and blossoming month on The Wild Edge.
Bealtaine Salon
It is Bealtaine, and next week I will be sharing my special Bealtaine Guide, and hosting the Bealtaine Seasonal Salon, with poetry, writing and seasonal ritual. Tickets for the salon are included in ‘Gold’ Wild Edge membership, or can be purchased independently
Friday 2nd May, 7-8.30pm Irish/UK time.
Owl Hours.
There will be lots of gathering in creative circle too, with a host of Owl Hours. Maybe you want to work on a book, a piece of writing, a creative project you have in mind. All welcome.
8 May, Thursday 8-9pm GMT +1 (Irish time): Owl Hour
15 May, Thursday 8-9pm GMT+1 (Irish time): Owl Hour
29 May, Thursday 8-9pm GMT+1 (Irish time): Owl Hour
Writing Sanctuary.
And on Sunday 11 May, we have our bi-monthly writing Sanctuary together. This is an hour of guided journaling.
11 May, Sunday, 6-7pm GMT + 1 (Irish time): Writing Sanctuary
Share this post