Wildforest Folk, 52 Jonson Street, Byron Bay (2026)

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08/09/2025

pil·grim·age
/ˈpɪl.ɡrə.mɪdʒ/ noun

1. A journey to a sacred place, undertaken as an act of devotion or spiritual seeking.

2. Any journey to a place of deep meaning or transformation.
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Weaving together strands and threads that I saw in a series of visions on Winter Solstice, I now find myself on the majestic island of Java for a lunar cycle.

During these visions, I was shown specific details of temples, geometries and volcanic mountains that I was to seek in Java, and floral and coral frequencies to be rediscovered in Bali.

So, I am here, on a pilgrimage.

As with last year's extraordinary visit, I will also be researching, deeply - different to last year's journey but by no means any less exploratory.

I am botanising and writing, but this time I am also seeking the meeting of souls - soul-as-temple, soul-as-mandala, soul-as-volcano, souls-as-flower, soul-as-reef, soul-as-other soul.

Last night, I discovered soul-as-lunar eclipse.

Experiencing one's consciousness as the animate is deeply healing and liberating.

Banishing the idea that there is no inanimate, only vibration and frequency, right down to the smallest flux tube, is life-changing.

Since I have been here, I have heard ancient stones sigh. Seen flowers beckon bees. Tasted love and kindness via jamu sunshine. Smelled mycelium from the opposite side of a mountain. Held a book in my hands despite it being on a shelf, miles away. Felt the sun caress Buddha's face atop Borobudur. Communed with truly extraordinary beings.

Already so deeply grateful to this beautiful place: its people, mountains, plants, lava, birds, rice, smiles, warmth.

This image is one of my captures of last night's Blood Moon lunar eclipse, seen above Wanurejo Village, Borobudur, in Central Java.

More to come on these journeyings. ࿆࿆

31/07/2025

📚𓂃✍︎𓍊𓋼🍃𓇢𓆸𓈒𓏸.˚🪼
Books, Botany, and Blue- hello, from me to you!

Time for my semi-annual selfie, well-timed with the crescent moon and my annual turmeric harvest.

Is harvesting rhizomes for my community whilst the post-capitalist world collapses resistance?

Is praying via the act of pressing medicinal seedlings into volcanic earth enough?

Is tending to my ark an act of escape, or survival?

Is reading koans and whispering mantras whilst grids falter, people starve, and bombs fly a surrender or denial?

I am privileged to be here, with vibrancy and these lands and my family and my living entity/collective. And even moreso to have the time and space to commune with birds, whales, books, deep thought, fungi, moon, mountain, winds and waters.

But my heart hurts and I feel like (since I was small) that I need to "fix the things". Everything. Sadness. Pain. Famine. Whaling. Homeless orang-utans. Dying forests. If I tried hard enough and studied enough and became enough maybe I could contribute enough to help it all. Broken systems and broken hearts.

I have been of melancholy temperament my entire life, from childhood to now, and it has meant in so many ways that the darkness and pains of the world could be felt, touched, witnessed - and deeply loved.

Deep grief has taught me more:
Loving is not about saving.
It is about presence.
It is about staying.
It is about noticing.
It is about tending.

Keeping the candles lit, creating (and cultivating) altars in the forest, crying with whalesong, standing rooted on cliff tops whilst the wind streams my hair, writing things no-one asked for, creating herbal blends for my community. Gathering the best for my sons. Planting trees for my granddaughter. Half-reading books (especially). Sitting with the plants. Caring for my mother's garden.

It is tending to, and deeply nurturing what remains, from what has gone before, what is quietly vanishing, and most of all... what is here. Entirely, wholly, holding space. With the utmost of presence.

And so, I stay. I stay. I stay.

Address

52 Jonson Street
Byron Bay, NSW
2481

Telephone

+61498835088

Website

http://www.wildforestfolk.earth/

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