Come fellow seeker, enter into the garden wild where mystery and wonder echo that which can be found in the wild landscape, a microcosm of it, if you will. Here the magic shimmers in the air, is held in the blooming flowers and carried in their scent, blowing gently on the breeze or perhaps heard in the singing of the birds and the buzzing of bees.

It’s easy to subscribe to business gurus and generic finance tips that don’t address the fundamental question of how to achieve an authentic and fulfilling existence in this world.

The folk beast is an archaic terror, and that is at least a part of its continuing power and of its continuing appeal.

Folk stories and folklore contain the shared knowledge of a collective. They may have their regional differences and several versions, but they convey truths and lessons, often hard ones. Folk stories and folklore are not some passive thing but instead form an active part of our lives today

We often think of folklore, myth, legend and stories as being in the past, a relic of history and indeed we can learn a lot about ourselves, where we came from and the land where we live by studying the stories that have been handed down to us. But they are more than that.

For the most part, such stories gave parents a bogeyman they could use to scare their young away from the dangers of deep water, for like fire, there is something alluring about water. There’s also a part of me, perhaps a more cynical part, that sees these stories as something else; our loss of connection to these wild spaces.

Folklore and stories can be interpreted in so many ways, the threads woven together in many wondrous and varied colours to form huge tapestries and tales of wonder and that is one part of their beauty and allure. Another is their call to action, for that is what they also are.

There’s something special to be found in all the seasons, but my heart belongs to the growing dark. I find something soothing in the winding down, in the retreat, and as an introvert, it feels like coming home. And of course, there is a beauty in the slow decay that comes with autumn. The trees put on a colour show far more beautiful than any illuminations.

Of course, when one thinks of seals, one can’t help but think about that folkloric creature, the Selkie. Folklore and stories about the Selkie can be found all over the British isles, particularly across Scotland, Ireland and the East coast.

The protagonists of such stories venture into the forest with warnings ringing in their ears, told to stay on the path, you know how the story goes and what befalls them when they inevitably leave the path behind. The forests are full of monsters; witches who wait to feast upon the flesh of fattened babes or wolves that gobble up grannies. But not all folk stories pitch the forest as places filled with monsters. The forest is still a place to be wary but instead of monsters, ghouls and ghosts, there is instead magic.

The garden in spring, with the bright colours of the daffodil, crocus, snowdrop and violet bring to mind folklore, stories and myth sand I’m reminded once more how important these are to us.

Trees are such beautiful creatures, are they not? And wise too. If you listen with a wild ear, if you watch them with wild eyes, they will share their lessons with you.

Sounds awfully romantic, doesn’t it? But as lovely as it sounds, it is also true.

I write a lot of stuff about folklore, I know an in part it is because I am something of a nerd. I always have been, preferring to nose through old and forgotten books as well as newer tomes than watching tv or any other distraction of the modern world. But there’s also something else that folklore offers and in a way that is lost to the modern world. It’s the stories of our ancestors, passed from generation to generation and the knowledge of them. It’s the history of the people as opposed to the history of the politicians and the controllers of the world. It’s a shared knowledge of the world around us both physical and spiritual. Folklore is more than just old stories, so much more.

The crossroads are steeped in mystery and folklore. The place where two or more roads intersect is a liminal space, a no man’s land belonging to no person. Perhaps that is why they are places of magick and folklore. Perhaps this is why they are spaces to commune with the spirits of the wild, unseen forces that pull at us. In this world where every inch of land is owned, where we are expected to be on the go, never stopping, trying to fit it all in, where we must always be something other than our true natures, perhaps that is why the crossroads call to us.

As I write this it’s Boxing day. My house is a riot of noise and merriment, filled with my loved ones and I reflect on how lucky I am, to have food in my cupboards, a roof over my head and the most basic of needs met. Boxing day always feels a little melancholy, a time to reflect on the year almost gone and think forward towards the next. I will forgo such musings today however. Instead, on this day of servants (Boxing day originated from the peasant class - so many would have been working on Christmas day itself, in service to the upper classes that the day after was their Christmas day, when they would give and receive their own Christmas boxes and spend time with their families) let’s explore some weird and wonderful New Year celebrations that make our modern way of seeing in the new year appear bland in comparison.

As I write this, I’m sitting in my garden, drinking my morning brew in the dark and listening to the rain. At this time of year, there isn’t much of a dawn chorus. That melody is better than any orchestra of man, but even in these darker months, the birds are ever present; the chirps of the sparrows nestled in the thick ivy, the loud and melodic call of the blackbird, clear as a bell as is the robins song. It’s no wonder we, mankind, have a special fascination with these feathered creatures as shown in the vast array of folklore associated with birds.

The Anansi stories hold a special place in my heart, what with my family, or at least the paternal side, hailing from the Caribbean. But there’s another important aspect to not only the Anansi stories, but most folk stories, generally speaking of course. Many of them come from the common people. These stories are born from the shared struggle against the harshness of life.

I adore folk lore, superstitions and old wives tales, from all over the world. There are stories and sayings about almost everything you can think of from trees, to birds to the weird and wonderful. I believe such stories give a great deal of insight into humanity’s relationship with the natural world, and highlight the common thread that runs through whilst at the same time celebrating our differences. These stories can help to deepen our understanding of and thus our connection to the land. Here I’ll share with you some of my favourite tree lore.

Now is the time for us rise up, to take direct action against the injustices we see in this world, all injustices, whether to other people, animals or the environment, however we can.