Each week I send out a short, fresh reflection from the road – photographs, sketches, and observations from old places that still have something to teach us. What follows is a moment from that ongoing journey.

WORDS

“Here grew willows and alders, their trunks twisted like giants’ sinews. Around them bark lichen bloomed blue-white in the darkness. It felt like a good place, where there was old magic.”
― Duncan Harper, Witch of the Fall

OBSERVATIONS

Awe Sanctuaries.

"Because in my mind I'm seeing starlight,

One more time for my imagination,

I'm not high, don't let me be misunderstood."

Yola, Starlight.

For me, more than any diamond-encrusted piece of jewellery, I find myself captivated by the visceral beauty of a lichen-encrusted churchyard. These places are such rare spaces because (in a process that defies our need for order and cleanliness) the sculpted cherub, the gothic script, and the turned baluster are extruded through curious combination of place, time, and nature into a wondrous visual broth that induces a profound sense of awe.

I feel the same kind of awe when I look at the stars in the sky. Indeed our lichen fields are a kind of cosmos. There is something about their beauty that is indefinable, otherworldly and seemingly infinite.

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"Indeed our lichen fields are a kind of cosmos. There is something about their beauty that is indefinable, otherworldly and seemingly infinite."

I'm reminded of church that I photographed in Gloucestershire where, for the briefest of seconds, on the cusp of where night turns into day, I saw a kind of bioluminescence occur on the west front of the church. The lichen that occupied the facade became luminous enough to present the building like a fairground attraction. I didn't have my camera to hand - but I sketched out (in what I call a lichenograph) what I saw.

"The lichen that occupied the facade became luminous enough to present the building like a fairground attraction."

In many ways, I had been prepared for the event by a previous incarnation of bioluminescence inside the Saxon crypt at Hexham - where, after a 10 minute exposure in the dark, I discovered - completely by accident - a Milky Way of organic forms in every colour possible occupying the re-purposed Roman capitals on the wall.

I was overwhelmed by the fact that this dark and cold space for the dead, when observed through a different lens, is so completely alive.

Ever since then my perception of a world that I thought I knew has expanded exponentially and contributed to new ways of seeing.

I heard recently that there is a science of awe - a study of the impact of awe on our senses. Apparently when we experience awe - it contributes to our sense of wellbeing, increases our serotonin and fosters benevolence between individuals.

Perhaps, collectively, we should devote more time to seeking out and experiencing awe. It seems that we might find it at the churchyard down the lane.

And so, our churchyards are sanctuaries of awe. They are spaces that hold the potential to elevate our spirit and bring us closer together in appreciation of something greater than ourselves.

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