Her chuch not made by hands

Many years ago, I first heard the Waterboys song 'A church not made by hands' and the line 'Her church not made by hands' particularly got me thinking and created an enduring image in my mind. I understood those lyrics or at least what those lyrics meant to me. In the same year, 1984, I'd been to the Stonehenge festival, a festival which was to have a profound effect on several aspects of my life. There I'd witnessed the Druids on the Summer Solstice morning as they processed to the stones and held their ritual, I was moved spiritually by those events, a door had been opened for me. I didn't know it but that morning had awoken me to the direction my spiritual path would lead; an epiphany if you like. I knew nothing of paganism at the time, though felt plenty. Hearing songs like 'A church not made by hands' re-enforced my feelings, giving me an early framework during the development of my an understanding of paganism, and for me, the Goddesses relationship with nature, and my deepening reverence for the natural world. The song and it's lyrics remain with me and I often find them replayed in my head when immersed in natures beauty, as I was today walking through Red Rise Shade following the course of the Rises winding Brook.  The Goddess I feel most connection with is Flidais, pronounced 'Flee-dish or Flee-dash' a Celtic Goddess, member of the Tuatha Dé Danann and akin to Diana and Artemis of classical pantheons, a Goddess and manifestation amongst other things of woodlands and of nature. I'm always aware of her in the wild places, in the beautiful places, when immersed in woodland, in all the seasonal changes and in the places less visited found off, as Peck put it, the roads less traveled. As with all nature, we humans have the potential to create great beauty; though our efforts will always pale when compared to diversity and beauty found in the simple structures and forms created by wider nature. Her church is indeed not made by hands.