As this calendar year draws to a close, the end of my first year in OBOD fast approaches. Earlier this month I was sitting in my room, by the sunny, south-facing window where I have my books and my journals and I started considering how this past year has affected and changed me as I went through the Bardic grade. The thought was enormous and overwhelming so I started my thought process over and began very small.
Just looking around me at that corner in which I sat, I noticed the stark change from last November. Last fall this bit of my room was efficient and organized, perhaps, but it wasn't warm. It wasn't living. It wasn't full of my thoughts, my dreams, my lessons and my creative spirit. It wasn't a place of inspiration and motivation like it is now. Now, with so many hours spent here over the last year, it has become a sacred place in my home, a place where I can go when I need a moment to quiet my soul and to find reason in whatever I am currently struggling with.
In the window bundles of herbs hang to dry, infusing the air with spicy odors. Pots of brushes and palettes of paints are messy on the windowsill. A large bag stuffed with yarn is nearby and whatever project I'm currently working on is on my work table. My drum is in its woolen bag by the chair and my flute hung by the strap of its bag on a hook. The reading table next to me is littered with papers, pens and pencils and practice paintings, sketches and scraps of poetry. On the shelves are books that I open and use daily; my OBOD gwers, of course, but also books of poetry, philosophy, history and science. Many of these are books I have had for years but, somehow, with the busy pace of life and the addition of children to the household, I had less and less time for.
One year has changed and transformed this area of my home. I go out further into my home and see more visible evidences of change. I have loved this home more; I have tended her more carefully, respecting who she is. Perhaps, after all, it isn't change but is a reclamation of what I used to have. A reclamation, yes, as well as a progression beyond what used to be. I look into myself. The change and transformation is less physically visible, but nonetheless present. After all, everything outward is an expression of what originates inwardly. Some days it is hard to remember what I was like "before"; somedays it is hard to know if I am any different, but the pursuit of old journals reveals the contrast. It is good to keep records, or else we will never know how far we have come, where it is that we are going and we will be stuck continually going up the same few steps, over and over, because we forget where we started.
As I end this first year in the Order, I have thought about if I want to go on and start in the Ovate grade for this coming year. I think, though, that I desire to take this next year to reflect on what I have learned, to continue to pursue the Bardic gwers over and over and to let their wisdom seep and settle into my being, on increasingly deeper levels. One year isn't long enough to explore all their aspects. A lifetime isn't long enough, perhaps. Maybe only True Wisdom is to be found when we have learned enough to, paradoxically, leave this earth yet become one with it, at the moment of death.
There is much to learn. I hope to never stop seeking.
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