On beauty and bluebells.
April's floral oracle, trusting in the unseen with myth, literature and lore.
"A thing of beauty is a joy for ever”.
—John Keats, Endymion.
Hello everyone
I hope you are finding your way this week — it seems quite unbelievable that we are heading towards the end of April (and yet there is still a feeling of winterspring in the air…!)
Whilst the quest for warmth continues, I have been basking in the afterglow of the first Holding Stories spring gathering in London at the weekend, an entwined offering between myself and . We were guided by the bluebell to create a garden of ritual in the city, a place to go inwards and to speak our stories into existence.
It was beautiful to witness the inner stirrings of creativity from the magical writers that joined us, allowing the threads of their stories to emerge from below the surface to find light at the surface. We will be delving deeper into the experience and hopefully sowing seeds of more to come soon…
I am off to sunnier climes tomorrow morning (hooray!) and so there will be no regular letter from me next week. I will however, be sending you a very special ATELIER interview with a writer I admire greatly, whose writing first signposted me here to — I really look forward to sharing it, so do look out for that.
For now, back to the wisdom, myth and lore of the bluebells, April’s floral oracle…
The flower oracle.
The bluebell.
deep trust | unseen growth | enduring beauty.
Bluebells emerge where the earth has not been disturbed, they are a marker of ancient woodland. Whilst blue is often seen as sky or sea, it becomes the colour of the ground in bluebell season as the flowers provide a deep violet-blue carpet within the woods. It is the floral symbol of deep trust in the unseen and all that is unfolding beyond our own perception.
Message from the bluebell.
The bluebell emerges from ground that has been left alone — undisturbed — a requirement for much of the magic that takes place in the living world, despite our attempts to intervene and control.
According to ‘Nature's Calendar: The British Year in 72 Seasons’, the bluebell is the homebody of the flower world. The flower tends to germinate close to the base of their parent during autumn — it takes between 4-5 years from this first burrowing to flowering. As my four-year-old daughter eagerly awaits school in September, I can’t help but think of this timescale in terms of birth to school age, alongside the time it is taking for me to tentatively emerge from my matrescent cocoon. I like to think that the newly emerging bluebells in the garden could have begun their burrowing whilst I carried my daughter in the warm, darkness within.
The bluebell illustrates that the living world does not end at ground level, as beyond the flower’s visible beauty on the earth, they commune deep underground, relating to their neighbours to swap nutrients and carbohydrates.
The bluebell reminds us of the stories entwined in our roots, and to have patience and trust in the growth we cannot always see.
The challenge is to leave the earth undisturbed when the flower has faded, to resist the urge to turn the earth, to tidy it up and find use for the empty space.
Half of the world’s bluebells reside here in the British Isles. In folklore, the bluebell is associated with fairy folk, who are said to hang their spells on bluebells. To pick or trample a bluebell breaks a spell…
*Can you trust the processes going on beyond your perception?
*What can you let be?
On beauty.
The Greek name for bluebell is ‘Endymion’ and it is sometimes known as ‘Endymion non-scriptus’.
Of course, this name is accompanied by a Greek myth, about beauty and an enduring love between the moon goddess, Selene, and mortal shepherd, Endymion.
Selene visits Endymion as she rides her silver moon chariot across the night sky, journeying down to earth to be with him. Selene wishes to be with Endymion forever so she asks Jupiter to grant her lover eternal sleep so that she may visit and gaze at him every night…
Selene is celebrated for her omniscience as she casts light in darkness. As moon goddess, she represents lunar rhythms and the inner and outer cycles of the divine feminine; water and the tides; our emotions and dreams; love and beauty. She is associated with otherworldly crystals moonstone and selenite. As we move into the waning moon phase after the full budding moon earlier this week, Selene encourages us to discern what we can let go of, before setting new intentions around the new moon on 8th May.
Romantic poet John Keats wrote an epic poetic romance (what else?!) called Endymion in 1818, it is comprised of four books and thousands of lines (I wish I could find my A-level copy which is almost certainly scrawled with copious notes!). Its opening lines are incredibly well known and speak to Keats’ poetic philosophy,
"A thing of beauty is a joy for ever”.
Despite hearing this much-loved adage many times, only now have I come to realise that my A-level English Literature studies were weaving a familiar thread into the plot of my own story. As the bluebell has led me to a poem I studied many moons ago, I remember learning of Keats’ declaration that beauty offers us more than a brief respite from the mundanities and hardships of life, instead providing lasting comfort, even reason to go on living.
The poem describes beauty not as a nicety or luxury but as a necessity and powerful guiding force, that when accepted and appreciated, becomes a part of us, helping us to find our path. Keats believed that when we come to know beauty, it will never leave us, transforming us, the onlooker, into an exquisite piece of life’s tapestry.
This thread of everyday beauty greeted me again in my late twenties when I was introduced to the teachings of Irish poet, theologian and mystic John O’Donohue, firstly through his interview, ‘The inner landscape of beauty’ on the On Being podcast with Krista Tippett, in which he insisted on beauty as a human calling. O’Donohue had a lifelong fascination with the inner landscape of our lives and with what he called ‘the invisible world’ that is constantly intertwining what we can know and see. A belief that feels inseparable from the wisdom of the bluebell.
“Beauty isn’t all about just nice loveliness, like. Beauty is about more rounded, substantial becoming.
So I think beauty in that sense is about an emerging fullness, a greater sense of grace and elegance, a deeper sense of depth, and also a kind of homecoming for the enriched memory of your unfolding life”.
—John O’Donohue.
These words reached into a part of me and led me to create THE THREAD JOURNAL. in 2018, an online platform where I spent several years sharing my musings about the importance of cultivating everyday beauty and sacred space to foster a sense of homecoming.
To me, experiencing beauty is healing as in its presence we feel illuminated, in awe and alive.
Beauty is not the superficial sight of something nice but rather the feeling of the extraordinary masquerading as the ordinary, or something draped in intention and meaning. By taking time to notice and observe, we can place reverence on the stuff of everyday beauty that is subtly nestled into our lives.
Another quote from the same interview with John O’Donohue that has stayed with me and that I remind myself of regularly — particularly when writing (especially about beauty) seems pointless and hopeless in the context of a world in pain and deep crisis. Referring to French philosopher and mathematician Blaise Pascal, O’Donohue says,
“I love Pascal’s phrase that you should always keep something beautiful in your mind…if you can keep some kind of little contour that you can glimpse sideways at, now and again, you can endure great bleakness”.
—John O’Donohue.
*What is your experience of everyday beauty?
*What image of beauty can you keep in your mind when experiencing bleakness?
Being amongst the bluebells.
After delving into bluebell wisdom at our spring gathering at the weekend, venturing to be amongst the wildflowers under a canopy of ancient trees was medicinal balm this week. As we trudged along the outer path, the bluebells appeared in the inner sanctum of the woodland, a spellbinding violet-blue mist rising from the earth.
The reemergence of familiar flowers each year feels reassuring and binds us to memories and meanings. The emergence of bluebells in the woods transports me back to the surreal spring days of the first lockdown in 2020, when I spent every day walking there with a sleeping baby wrapped to my body in a fabric sling. At a time when I was missing the people that felt like home and certain heart-filled places too, I fell in love with the bluebells in our local woods — now they hold the story of those exquisite, excruciating and exhausting early mothering days in isolation.
*Thinking of the bluebells as the many stories of you, what stories are you holding within you that are ready to be told?
I would highly recommend sinking into a beautiful Yoga Nidra by
to fully receive the medicine of the mystical bluebell. The Yoga Nidra formed a beautifully immersive part of our gathering at the weekend and will be available to everyone via Held. by Lauren Barber for the next two weeks…
Thank you so much for reading — I would love to hear if you have immersed yourself in the bluebells (if they grow close by) and what messages they have given you over the years…
I hope we can chat more in the comments, or of course feel free to send me an email with your thoughts.
Lyndsay xx
A warm hello to anyone new here, I’m Lyndsay, mother, creative and storyteller with a background in interiors PR. Story & Thread. is a weekly letter exploring the intersection of creativity, mothering and the living world, with a home and a garden at the heart...
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I was swept away by all of this, Lyndsay. It was truly a magical spring read. Bluebells and beauty. I will never think of or look at these two words in the same way. Thank you for this gift and for creating a space where I come for deep rest and inspiration. xo
What a gentle reminder about cultivating beauty. I feel like I got transported to a woodland with bluebells whispering words of wisdom. Thank you for sharing.