Leonie Bryant's Corner of Lemuria - Hermitage Art
The Hermitage Art Room attracts travellers from all over the world who have travelled with Sibyl, a twenty first century Enchanteur, who take pilgrims along the Soul Food Silk Road. The Art Room is just one of the sanctuaries where travellers have rested their weary bones. This was Leonie Bryant's (1942 - 2006) realm and her favourite place on the Silk Road. She is still here with us.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Setting Out Again
Another group of travellers prepare to set out on an adventure with Le Enchanteur who is seen here, dancing on the amphitheatre stage at the Hermitage.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Final Surrender - April 14th 2006
I am not sure whether I should be writing this post here or at The Land of the Standing Stones!!
It has taken me some considerable time to work out what to put in my surrender box.
The box I have chosen is a clear plastic box that can at any time tell me what is in there. It is interesting to me that I have chosen a box that shows all and not one that hides it's contents.
I was driving myself mad trying to work out what to put in this blessed box. Why is it so hard? Thinking, thinking, thinking and analyzing with no clear result. After a week with this lack of success, I finally decided to surrender to my inner knowing and asked the question:
"What do I need to surrender?"
It took 24 hours, and I woke up knowing what I had to surrender. I knew it was right. I have felt so reassured to think that I knew all the time, even though I was hiding it from myself. And I am amazed at what I have learnt since. I feel that this is a big breakthrough which has been coming to birth for some time. Whoopee!
Friday, May 05, 2006
The Unknown Rider by Leonie Bryant
My goodness, I wonder what interesting experiences I am going to have today. Up to date, there have been some surprises along the way. There has been anxiety, excitement and at times sorrow, and I am certainly feeling the benefits of this experience.
Now, I am seated on this beautiful little donkey whose name is Augustus. He is old and clumsily treads along the way at his own pace. Luckily I am relaxed so I am very patient. He says that he knows where he is going and not to worry. So I sit pat. Before long we are into the forest. The gnarly old branches are hanging down, but Augustus seems to be able to tread a path past them without me being harmed in any way. My other friends are around me on their donkeys, so we seem to be all together.
Next thing, all hell breaks loose, the donkeys are braying and distressed. Before I know what is happening, I am whisked away from my faithful friend. A hooded rider takes hold of me and hoists me onto his horse. The horse feels enormous after travelling on my little donkey. My heart is pounding with excitement. I have never experienced the feeling of such power, riding on this great animal through the forest. I am holding on tight to my rider who seems to totally in control.
It is not until we come to a clearing in the forest that we begin to slow down. Coming to a standstill, I find myself being lifted down to the ground. My head is spinning, I feel so light headed and I hardly know what I am doing. I now have a chance to see the face of the hooded rider. It is a man, his face is handsome, but it is his eyes that are so deep and full of kindness. He is preparing a fire and soon the leaves and branches are crackling and the warmth entices me towards it. My rider sits on the ground and invites me to sit with him. I feel safe with him, so I ask who he is. He says that he is my spirit guide and will be there for me whenever I need him. I am surprised that he is going to be there for me, and part of me is having difficulty in believing this. He tells me he is Blue Heron, and that we will rest here for tonight and continue the journey tomorrow.
Comforted by his presence, I drift off to sleep. I am woken by the birds clickety, clacking around the trees and find that I am alone. Where is my guide? What am I going to do now? He did reassure me that he would always be there when I needed him. Keeping this in my heart, I picked up my bag, put on my special glasses and set off through the forest.
I can now see where I am going and know that I shall soon be arriving at The House of the Serpent. I come out of the forest to this beautifully tranquil water hole. This must be Blind Springs. There is such an atmosphere of peace here that I must rest here on the rocks. As I sit there, I hear a flutter of wings, and see a bird rising from the water and gliding off with such grace. It is the blue heron.I know that I am not alone.
Preparing for Christmas 2005 by Leonie Bryant
My Visit to the Lemurian Market by Leonie Bryant
I Come Before You Gorgon - by Leonie Bryant
There once was a woman who was hard working, loyal, honest and modest. She cared for others, loved her family and was very hard on herself. However, a battle raged within her. She wanted to fly. She fluttered her wings, rattled the cage and then her fear and guilt won over. She would settle back down to her life which actually was a quite a happy one.
Time passed, many years later she discovered there were reasons she had stayed locked up. The need to fly became more urgent, she knew she could not fly while she was locked in the cage. So rattle the cage she did, until the lock was broken. There was freedom to fly, to soar high up into the sky.
She could not believe the freedom she experienced. Everything looked so different from up above. She spent many hours gliding around, allowing her dreams to come true.
This poem was written by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
Fold your wings my soul,
Those wings you had spread wide
To soar to the terrestrial peaks
Where the light is most ardent:
It is simply for you to wait
The descent of the Fire – supposing it be willing
to take possession of you.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Silent Lotus offers'The Legend' to Leonie Bryant
Are no longer calling
And in your eyes the valleys
Appear no more to be deep
The wind will whisper
Revealing the love
Where the sun and the moon
Come to meet
Go Gently, Beloved Sister
We do not dream
Like the Settled People.
We dream of rolling hills
The perfect tober
Where fish fill the rivers
The grass is always soft underfoot
And the weather is always mild.
There is no end to the storytelling
And the company is good
Around the campfire.
Of shelter and comfort
Not the heavenly mansions
Of the Settled People.
Precious Memory - Leonie Bryant
Seek what you will, have what
you might, love who you will,
do what you will,
but memory lives the longest.
Memory is important,
good memories soothe the soul,
and are no less real than anything
else on earth...remember.
Remember, memory lasts
the longest. Memory is kept close
to the heart. Memory lives
the longest. Do not forget.
Leonie will never be forgotten,
now or forever. She will always
(with love, Monika - Imogen Crest - Hermitage)
Rebekkah by Leonie Bryant - On Caravanserai
Rose Spirt by Leonie Bryant - On Caravanserai
Farewell, for now
Leonie, you will be sorely missed, and the candle lit to remember you by will never be extinguished in my heart, where the flame of those who touched my life burns in perpetuity. Lead the way my friend, travel with carefree abandon and in peace, where all of us will one day rejoin you.
Visiting the Isle of Ancestors by Leonie Bryant
I wandered slowly down to the wharf where the ferry would take me on a journey that proved to be a momentous one. I am grateful for the invitation to go, as well as for all those dear friends who are accompanying me in words and spirit.
My trip across the sea was a little tempestuous – I wasn't sure if I wanted to meet this person, or who it would be! I was reassured. The beautiful moon shone brightly over the waters. I felt nurtured and cared for.
On arriving at the distant shore, I embarked from the barge and wended my way up to the stone entrance. As I passed by these stones,I was aware of the sacredness of the journey I was taking. Slowly I meandered down the path towards the red light, which guided me to the great hall. The hall was filled with a warm glow from the fire
burning on the other side of the hall. Slowly, slowly I walked around to sit beside the figure and waited til I was ready to see who it was.
My Father, who had died in 1981, was sitting there just as I had remembered him. I looked into his eyes and asked him why he had hurt me as a little girl, his beautiful daughter. He said that he was in the grip of the `demon drink'. He looked very sorry and said that he had loved me and had always been proud of who I was. The tears were rolling down my face as he gave me a beautiful rose to remind me of his love.
He looked into my eyes and asked me if I could forgive him. I told him that since I had recently claimed how much I had been damaged by his actions, I did now forgive him. I had always loved him and protected him. He gave me a beautiful big fatherly hug which I had missed all my life. It felt so good.
It was time to leave and make my way back to Duwamish Bay holding my beautiful rose.
A Thought Poem for Leonie by Aletta Mes
all the colours
for the reaping
death provides transport
to the other side
of a stony wall
back and forth
to the other side
what if I?
from life newly made
taking spent mortal remains,
most sadly too
those with lives
far to short
far from here
stands a wall
a wall not there
when I was young
of cold dark stone
sensing the sweetly acrid
stench of death
I have learned the limits
the wall of
set in motion
is not mortal
so I too shall pass
my new confidant
the dark gowned
through stones of
as we are grieved
we are also joyfully
as days pass
the reaper now stand closer
rarely am I out
of the dark figure's gaze
and the stones of the wall
they are but ether
in the reapers gaze
I stand and now look back
he now is
now as age advances
and all colour
the wall while marking a line
between the mortal and
to continue in eternity
here in the mortal world
of lives lived
continue in ripples
no here or there
a small piece of
in body or ether
For Leonie, till we meet again.
Leonie Visits White Owl Island
From the moment I read Traveller's excerpts about The Wyse Wymen of the White Owl and the accompanying prayer, I have felt so at home with this story. Le Enchanteur's invitation to visit the Wyse White Owl encouraged me to come to the isle.
Sitting in the boat with the priestesses, and listening to the hum of their Creation Chant, I felt at one with the rythms of their song, despite the fact that I couldn't understand what they were saying. On arriving at the isle, the boat is moored and the priestesses invite me to follow them.
I am filled with excited anticipation as I follow the priestesses to the home of the White Owl. I watch in silence while certain rituals are performed around the Stone. As I approach the realm of The White Owl, I feel a sadness welling up inside.
The owl says "I am a mirror to those who come through the winding way. I vow to be the sealer as well as the revealer. What is your question?"
How would I manage if I was on my own?
The beautiful White Owl looks at me with those wonderfully knowing eyes and tells me that I have all the wisdom within me, and that I will know what to do when the time comes. She reminded me that I have always shown a resourcefulness and have known where to get support when I have needed it.
From my pocket, I take a beautiful gemstone and place at the base of the tree where the White Owl rests. I am filled with consolation and peace as I follow the priestesses through the labyrinth to the boat that will take me back to Duwamish.
Fountain of Forgiveness by Leonie Bryant
I have been down to the Fountain of Forgiveness this morning. I donned my glasses and absorbed the atmosphere around the river. The birds were very busy as you know it is almost springtime here. They were dancing around, singing their mating songs and feverishly picking choice titbits for their nests.
I took with me Esmeralda my beautiful snake. She is emerald green with metallic markings all along her back. She slid along beside me guiding me to the fountain. As we approached the pools I once again felt this sacred space. I sat, taking in the peace and calm of the waters. Gently I stooped down and put my face down and drank of this crystalline water.
I was moved to write my letter of forgiveness in the peace and quiet. As a sign that I had forgiven, I took my letter and with fire let it rise up in flames.
Leonie took a Night Ride
The stablewoman rushed to me as I came down the path. ‘Come quickly’ she said. As I walked into the stables, I could hear the commotion. I rushed down to see my beautiful mare champing at the bit. She had a look of desperation in her eyes. The stablewoman helped me to mount my horse and we tried to calm her down. But she wanted to be off.
We rode up the path, through the forest and up into the highlands. With ears pinned back, my horse raced across the grassy plains. The wind whistled through my hair, as I clung tightly to her neck. I wanted to ride, and ride onwards forever. I could feel all my cares and woes being left behind, as the wind continued to blow. The freedom is incredible. I have never experienced anything as exhilarating!
Finally we came to a spot where other horses were grazing. My mare had come home. This is where she belonged. Slowly I dismounted, and gently stroking her neck I wandered over to sit under a tree pondering my newfound freedom.
Appraising the Heart - Dedicated to Leonie
Embroidered Journal Cover - A Gift from Leonie December 2005
An eye for an eye
A tooth for a tooth
Within the field of rushes
Lies the heart of one
Mother, daughter, wife, sister, friend,
Whose time in this realm is done?
Within the field of rushes
Lies the heart of one
Teacher, counsellor, advocate, imagineer, friend
Who took but gave an eye, a tooth, a shoulder
Earth to Earth
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
Within the field of rushes
Lies a heart of one
Who gave more than she took
Who returns to the source
As light as a feather
Heather Blakey March 29 2005
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Cards by Leonie
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
An Embroidered Retrospective
L is for Leonie
B is for Bryant
Wearing a Hibiscus in her hair
Designs by Leonie Bryant - completed April 2006
The Last Dance With Me
We had laughed and cried and said
we would dance for many more years Leonie
But... the fates intervened
with their scissors
snipping the thread of life so suddenly
So, I'm dancing for you now, as I have never danced before
Leading the celebration of your life
Here in the Gypsy Camp.
Form a circle everyone
And dance the last dance with us.
Reflection - Leonie Bryant - 2005
Baba Yaga has led me on a very interesting journey over the last day or so. In reading her story and struggling to write about my visit to see her, I decided to make my special doll. What a surprise this turned out to be!
To understand my surprise, one would have to know that I love colour and things more on the 'pretty' side. My doll has a very earthy feel, is rather shapeless and has a lovely big double chin. So I dialogued with her, telling her that I was surprised at the way she looked and wondered how she could help me. She replied that she would know what I had to do, so that all I had to do was to ask her in trust.
I was then led in a very mysterious way to read some words of wisdom in my book, 'Women Who Run With The Wolves'. These are the words that struck a chord with me:
"......A wise woman keeps her psyche environ uncluttered. She accomplishes such by keeping a clear head, keeping a clear space for her work, working at completing her ideas and projects.......because it is Baba Yaga's hut that Vasalisa sweeps, because it Baba Yaga's yard, we are also speaking of keeping unusual ideas clear and ordered. These ideas include those which are uncommon, soulful and uncanny.
......to cook for the Yaga one lays a fire - a woman must be willing to burn hot, burn with passion, burn with words, with ideas, with desire for whatever it really is that she loves. It is actually this passion which causes the cooking, and a woman's ideas of substance are what is cooked. To cook for the Yaga, one will arrange that one's creative life has a consistent fire under it. Most of us would do better if we became more adept at watching the fire under our work.........the fire bears watching, for it is easy to let it go out. The Yaga must be fed. There's hell to pay if she goes hungry. So it is the cooking up of new things, of new directions, of commitments to one's art and work that continuously nourishes the wild soul.
.....Women's cycles according to Vasalisa's tasks are these: To cleanse one's thinking, renewing one's values, on a regular basis. To clear one's psyche of trivia, sweep one's self, clean up one's thinking and feeling states on a regular basis and especially to cook up a lot, to feed the relationship between oneself and the wildish nature."
My doll is now called Clarissa and she has pride of place on my table where I do my work.
For Leonie from Carol Abel
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle Autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning:s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
(poem by Mary Frye)
Leonie's Arrival At The Hermitage - August 2005
Monika, I have just arrived and am overwhelmed by the wonderful welcome you have extended to all. There are so many mysterious places and people around the Hermitage.
As I came in, I wandered around through the Garden of Earthly Delights. Along the paths past the most delicious and sensuous flowers, I came to a beautiful indigo hibiscus. As I walked past, I thought I heard someone calling. Psst...psst. Glancing around, I couldn't see a soul. Then I heard it again. This time I realized that the voice was actually coming from the plant.
I moved closer to this beautiful dark green shrub, covered in indigo flowers. It whispered in my ear that it wanted tell me a little story.
"Tiny seeds fall into the earth and when the time is right, they germinate and grow in their own time. Some grow a little, some are undernourished, some scraggy and damaged by the elements.
Others, despite the conditions continue to grow and produce beautiful flowers.
Seeds of wisdom are planted in all, and are ready to germinate when they are able to understand and receive this wisdom. Can you imagine yourself wrapped in a beautiful indigo cloak, listening to the words of wisdom that are ready to spring from your heart?"
Amazed by this story, I wandered down to the sea walk, and finding a large rock, I spent some time pondering the words that I had heard.
copyright Leonie Bryant 2005
copyright Leonie Bryant 2005.
Leonie Bryant - Embroidered Journey Souvenirs
Monday, May 01, 2006
A Poem - by Tennyson - for Leonie
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.
-- Alfred Lord Tennyson
Sent by Aletta Mes
Gaia Welcomes Leonie Home
Her daughter returns home.
I have blended with the earth
I bear fruit
I absorb the dead
I swallow the nail
I catch the bullets
I resurrect myself
I cannot be destroyed
I am nature
I cannot be controlled
I am sacred
I am a healer
Experience me -Become Gaia
Audrey Flack 2000