Terri Windling's Blog, page 237

On perserverance, 3.

"And this, really, is the story-within-the-story, because if you do not believe that hearts can bloom suddenly bigger, and that love can open like a flower out of even the hardest places, then I am afraid that for you the world will be long and brown and barren, and you will have trouble finding the light.

"But if you do believe, then you already know all about magic."

-- Lauren Oliver (from Lisel & Po)

Miss Representation

Here's a trailer for a very important new film about the representation of women in the media. I really feel for all the young women (and young men) trying to grow up strong, self-confident, and balanced despite the poisonous media culture we've given to them -- and thus I'm grateful to Jennifer Siebel Newsom for addressing this subject head on in her new film, Miss Representation.  Although the short (3 minute) film trailer above is the only version I was able to embed on this blog, I hightly recommend the longer (8 minute) version of the film trailer on Facebook, here.

One thing the longer version of the trailer talks about is the importance of mentoring. As a life-long feminist, this is something I feel strongly about...and I find it heartening that there does seem to be a lot of quiet mentoring going on in the fantasy publishing and mythic arts fields. The sf/fantasy genre was very much a man's world when I entered publishing in the early 1980s, and it's enormously gratifying that -- thanks to the work of so many fine women -- it no longer is today. Now if only the same could be said of Congress and the Senate....

Tilly Training, 2.

Another lesson in How to Walk Past Very Large Animals...alas, not quite as successful this time.

The young cow above appeared on on the stream-side trail behind our house this morning. This beautiful, bright-eyed creature was just as curious about Tilly as Tilly was about her...and I snapped this picture of what seemed like a sweet (and benign) hillside encounter.

Proud of Tilly for staying quietly at my heels, I then turned to pass on another trail, and that's when things got. . .complicated. The young cow decided to follow us. And Tilly got over-excited and barked.  And that's when Mama cow appeared, alarmed for her youngster's safety.

Mama chased us downhill, back across the stream, toward a field where I hoped to get out of her way. . .

. . . but the field, we discovered, was filled with more cows, all riled up by Mama Cow's bellows.

We escaped, my friends, in the nick of time, slithering down the wet stones of a waterfall -- and then circled back home, skirts and paws damp and muddy, trailing brambles and burrs behind us. I was flustered, but Tilly was grinning from ear to ear, clearly pleased with her morning's adventure.

Hmmm. I think we've got a bit more Tilly Training to do.

On perserverance, 2.

"You can't cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water."  - Rabindranath Tagore

"What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step. "  - C.S. Lewis

On perserverance

"There are two ways of meeting difficulties: You alter the difficulties or you alter yourself to meet them."  - Phyllis Bottome

Tunes for a Monday Morning

Today's tunes both come from singer/songwriters who live here in the West Country: "Lucy," by Martha Tilston in Cornwall, from her CD Lucy and the Wolves; and "Send Yourself Away," by Seth Lakeman in Devon (here on Dartmoor), from his CD Freedom Fields.

As the second song says: Go and dream....

On the road...

We're off to a celebration of my stepdaughter's 21st birthday in London -- which is where she's working & studying as a chef-in-training, apprenticed to master chef Alyn Williams. (If you're a food lover, then remember that name: he's a rapidly rising star in the London restaurant scene, and currently a finalist in the Craft Guild of Chef's National Chef of the Year competition.)

It has been, as some of you know, a very tough month for me (for reasons too personal to post in an open public space), but that just makes having a cause to celebrate all the sweeter. Tilly, alas, has to stay at home -- but she's got her very own poet for company, the lucky pooch, so she'll be fine. (Congratulations to said poet, by the way, for this new review in The Sunday Guardian.)

And happy birthday this week to another member of my extended family, sister-of-the-heart Ellen Kushner. I wish you were here to go blackberry-picking in the hedgerows, Ellen, (I know how much you love them!), but since you're not: we send you dreams of blackberry crumble and windfall apples and the wood-smoke scents of these crisp autumn days, with love from all of us at Bumblehill.

Have a good weekend, folks. And don't miss the latest from Kath Langrish at Seven Miles of Steel Thistles, and Howard & Rex at John Barleycorn.

On the Hill

Here is my morning ritual: I get up and get dressed at an early hour, usually before the sun comes up. The house is quiet but for me and the pup, for my husband is a later riser than us and I cherish this morning solitude...when dreams, images, and ideas float to consciousness in the liminal space between sleep and wakefulness. I feed the pup; make coffee for me, pour it into a thermos, and head outside: to the studio, and the hillside beyond, where my day properly begins.

As we enter the woods, the pup and I, the pathway splits into three directions. Tilly, eager to race ahead, looks to me to know which one to take. In the past I would signal to her with my hand, but lately I'm trying to teach her in words: "Bees," I tell her when I mean the trail that runs near a place where old beehives are kept. "Woods," I say when I'm heading for a mossy perch in a circle of holly and oak. Or "Hill," I say. This third direction is Tilly's favorite one of all.

On the hill, we climb to an old iron bench overlooking the patchwork of Commons and fields, and the blue-grey slopes of the moorland beyond. In this season, the feathery fronds of the bracken are turning the hillside from green to rust.

A rising mist often swirls at this hour as I drink my coffee. (Italian roast. Strong.) Tilly prowls through the bracken, or grazes blackberries, or sits near my feet as the day slowly brightens. . . ears cocked, nose twitching, alert to each rustle of animal, wind, and spirit.

I've been getting up early since I was a girl, chasing sunrise and magic in the unlikeliest of landscapes. How I wish that young girl could sit here with me now; she would marvel to see just how far we have come.  There she is: a flicker of a shadow on the hillside, by Tilly. There she is.

And then she's gone.

Magic in Clay

I recommend a visit to the beautiful new blog from potter/sculptor/writer Claire Briant in Brittany. Claire lives and works in an old stone farmhouse in the Forest of Broceliande, and creates beautiful objects inspired by myth, symbolism, and the mythic landscape.

You may remember Claire's workspace (shared with painter Yoann Lossel) featured in the "On Your Desk" series, back in June. She was also part of an "Around the Table" discussion, with Yoann, over on the John Barleycorn blog.

"Myth must be kept alive. The people who can keep it alive are the artists of one kind or another. The function of the artist is the mythologization of the environment and the world."
- Joseph Campbell

Tilly Training:

Howard gives Tilly a refresher course in How to Walk Past Very Large Animals

"Uh oh, what have we here?"

"Heel, Tilly. Stay close to me."

"Don't even think about chasing them."

"No, Tilly, they don't want to play."

"We're past. Good dog. Now let's review...."

(Tilly in reflection.)