Sound-Well

18/06/2026

Tonight I buried a song thrush beneath a rose. 🌹

For the past week or so, she has been singing her heart out around Dunster Castle.

Early mornings and late evenings - after 10pm, I have lain in bed listening to her exquisite fluid song. I found myself telling friends about her. There was something so beautiful and delicately alive in her presence.

The last time I saw her was at midday today, perched on the roof of the barn overlooking my garden, singing across the Dunster rooftops

A few hours later, I found her dead beneath a neighbour's window.

I cannot know for certain what happened, but over the years I have found too many thrushes beneath windows not to suspect a collision with glass. Ever since a similar experience many years ago, I have used window transparencies and stickers wherever I can. Birds often see reflected sky, trees and open space where we see glass.

Perhaps some will think it strange that I sat and sobbed over a bird.

But this village is less without her.

This little corner of the world is less without her.

And certainly my world is less without her.

So tonight she rests beneath a rose.

As I write this, dusk is settling and I am in my garden listening to the evening chorus.

And the most extraordinary thing...

Another song thrush has begun to sing.

Not the same voice.

Not the same bird.

But a reminder, perhaps, that grief and beauty often arrive together.

And that while individual songs end, the great symphony of life continues all around us.
🙏💚🐦‍⬛💚🙏
Dunster Village Discover Dunster

18/06/2026

🙏 The committee may still be discussing.

There may be concerns and questions.
Reasons to wait a little longer.

Meanwhile, the Summer Solstice sun is rising.
The door is open.
Life is underway.

There are a couple of places remaining for Saturday's Summer Solstice retreat at Bossington Chapel.

Will you join us? ☀️💛
https://www.facebook.com/events/2446546135864508

16/06/2026

Hello Dear Ones, 💚
As we approach the Summer Solstice, a little story has arrived.

It seems an important meeting has been taking place in the committee room of my mind since about 1977...

They sit around a very large oak table — a variety of concerned voices. One worries what people might think, another believes more preparation is required, whilst a third wonders whether now is really the right time. One insists further discussion is essential and another, it seems, is simply waiting for cake!

Several subcommittees have formed.

Just then, the Summer Solstice Sun sticks its head around the door.
"Have we reached a decision?"

The committee explains that several concerns remain unresolved.
"How many?"

The committee consults its notes.
"All of them."

The Sun nods thoughtfully.
"That's a shame."

Then it rises anyway.

It shines on the hills.
It shines on the sea.
It shines on the roses.
It even shines on the committee room.

Which feels like a useful thing to remember!
The voices may get a vote.
They don't have to get the deciding vote.

Wishing you a beautiful approach to Solstice. ☀️

14/06/2026

Good evening dear Ones 🙏💚🙏

I hope you've had a restful weekend, filled with summer warmth and sunshine.

Over the last couple of days, I've been making a set of prayer flags for tomorrow's New Moon (at 03.54am).

The practice is inspired by the Tibetan Lungta (Wind Horse) tradition, where prayers and blessings are carried by the wind.

Traditionally, the flags are printed with symbols, mantras and prayers before being hung outdoors, where sun, rain and wind gradually fade the cloth. The prayers are not believed to diminish as the flags weather. Quite the opposite. They are released into the world.

Using an old Lungta printing block, I printed this month's Lungta and my own prayers onto pieces of recycled cotton shirt. Each prayer, handwritten on the back, is inspired by what I find myself learning, healing or remembering in my own life.

The yellow flag carries a simple reminder:

'May we remember that we are held.'

The blue flag carries a prayer that emerged with this New Moon:

'May we become soft enough to hear our collective heartbeat, soft enough to trust the heartbeat of the All That We Are, and soft enough to unfold in our own perfect timing.'

'The white flag is for peace.'

The red flag carries the spirit of this year's Chinese zodiac sign, the Fire Horse:

'May we be grounded enough to stay present, open enough to embrace what is emerging, and brave enough to enjoy the ride.'

The green flag is for gratitude, joy and abundance.

Now complete, they are hanging in the apple tree, where the wind, the weather and the seasons can continue the prayer in their own way.

The prayers may begin with something personal, but following the Lungta tradition they are always offered beyond myself—for all relations and for the benefit of all beings.

I'm curious...

Do you have a practice for marking the New Moon or other seasonal thresholds?

Or if you were to write a simple prayer for this New Moon, what might it be?

Sending you love and blessings at this New Moon 🌙🐎💚

12/06/2026

Good morning 🙏💚🙏
I've been pondering the question, 'Where lives the meeting place between all things?'

Not as something to answer, solve, or figure out, but as something to rest within.

It seems to me that much of life unfolds in these meeting places — between breath and silence, self and other, action and outcome, certainty and mystery. Places we cannot force our way into, but which reveal themselves when we slow down enough to listen.

The reflection that emerged became a new blog:
If you feel drawn to explore that question for yourself, you can read it here:

https://www.sound-well.co.uk/post/where-lives-the-meeting-place-between-all-things

Wishing you a nourishing Friday.
Alexandra 🌹

We all encounter moments when the old story no longer fits and the new one has not yet revealed itself. This reflection explores those unwritten spaces through story, silence, sacred geometry, movement, sound and the wisdom of the body. It is an invitation to trust the pause, honour the deeper knowi...

11/06/2026

This looks like a rather special gathering. 💚
Movement. Voice. Rhythm. Singing. Drumming. Sound. Ceremony. Dance. Silence. Community. Play.

Invocation Festival is only in its second year and seems to bring together many of the ingredients I most love; not as separate activities, but as different pathways into aliveness, creativity and connection. I recently spent a weekend with Jewel and Gavin, two of the festival's founders and facilitators, and came away deeply inspired by the quality of their work and the spirit in which it is offered.

If you're looking for a small, heartful festival this summer, it may be worth a look.

A small and intimate gathering to nourish you through exploration of movement, dance, sound, voice, and embodiment. Through workshops, music and shared experience, we come together to express, connect and celebrate being alive.