A mysterious and mystical way of looking at the natural world

by David Greygoose

Writing is an act of tapping into the energies of the Earth

We are shaped and moved by the energies of the Earth. These are all about us - in the depths of the soil, in the rhythm of the water and in the forces of the wind. They enter through us as we breathe, are absorbed into our bloodstream, into our sinews, into our bones. To be in touch with our bodies is to be in touch with the Earth. And with the sky and the oceans and the energies they contain. This is the principle of Qi Gong, the ancient Chinese art of 'Energy Practice'. Through simple rhythmic movements and controlled patterns of breathing, we tap into the energy which channels through our bodies in meridians of Qi.

I have practised Qi Gong for over 30 years, first taught to me by Xia Lu, who travelled to Liverpool from China shortly after the events in Tiananmen Square. Through weekly classes, I learnt the movements which I could practice alone - and sought outdoor spaces where I could absorb the energies all around.

These spaces have included a small woodland on Wood Burcote Lane near Towcester where I grew up; a promontory along the cliff-top footpath close by Hale lighthouse on the River Mersey; Burnt Mill Lane, in the middle of flat fields amongst scavenging crows and pigeons, soaring larks and the occasional predatory hawk; and the edge of an ancient deer park overlooking the Menai Straits on Ynys Mon (Anglesey).

These places have become special, but can be anywhere. Whenever I am travelling, I seek out the spot where I can make these necessary connections, this filling of the well of energy which can carry me through the day. These rituals have become so rooted in me that I cannot rise without performing Qi Gong, nor can I go to sleep without a closing exercise. These are precious moments during which to empty the mind, or allow it to be flooded by positive images of places I have visited.

So we are in the Earth, and the Earth is in us. This is a cycle which cannot be broken. We should honour this as extraordinary, and yet accept it through the simple act of breathing, of moving, of being.

Writing is also about making connections - between words, between images, through the rhythms of speech. And through these connections we communicate - with the earth, with the sky, with the oceans, with those who come to listen and those who stop to read.

Writing is an act of tapping into the energies of the Earth and this can happen in any place and at any time. I have often written first drafts in places where I feel that sense of connection - at Burnt Mill Lane, at Seriol's Well, on the beach at Swanage; but I wrote most of the Brunt Boggart mythic tales while travelling on the train between Hunts Cross and Liverpool - the rattle and the hum evoking a trance-like state for the eighteen minute journey, scribbling down a page or two which I could put down and pick up again the next day, almost like a piece of knitting. And the narrative voice for these stories came to me while on a plane home from China. I could hear the opening passage of the book spoken to me in my head while I was sleeping. I woke up and wrote it down as quickly as I could - and then the stories just seemed to flow!

I have always written and will always write. It is my own way of communicating the energy of the Earth which is all around us and flows through us, connecting us all.

David Greygoose - Publications:Brunt Boggart: A Tapestry of Tales (Hawkwood 2015/Pushkin 2018)
'A wonderful excavation of the story traditions that our ancestors huddled around for warmth.'  ALAN MOORE
Mandrake Petals and Scattered Feathers: Tales from the Forest and Beyond (Hawkwood 2021)
'The tale unfolds like a Gaelic Lay; Tale Teller Greygoose leads the way… read by candlelight if you can.'  DONOVAN
The Blunted Axe poems (Dreich Chapbook 2020)
'Such a mysterious and mystical way of looking at the natural world.'  NATALIE LINH BOLDERSTON