Juliet Batten Books

My publishers wanted me to remove this chapter in 'A Cup of Sunlight: Discovering the sacred in everyday life'. The reason? They couldn't see how it was relevant.

I didn't remove the chapter because I trusted and believed in the message it conveyed. The chapter remained, and the manuscript won a prestigious prize: The Ashton Wyllie award for an unpublished manuscript. It was then published by Random House.

That was back in 2005, and the chapter has become more relevant than ever; in fact in this changing world, the whole book is more relevant than ever.

'A Cup of Sunlight' teaches how to stay grounded and connected when your nervous system goes into overload and cannot cope with the bombardment of distressing news from around the world. It contains many simple practices and meditations to sustain your energy and keep you strong.

Isn't this what we all need right now?

Can you guess what the chapter was?

All answers will be gratefully received in the comments boxes, AND I will sent a free copy of the book to the first person to guess correctly!

Summer time at Te Henga, relaxing into the seasonal flow; the pleasure of play, and watching where it leads.

You can see the post on substack by clicking the image below, and subscribe for free to receive more art in nature.

Art in Nature: Playing with leaves, surrendering to summer December 22, 2010

What would a pōhutukawa say if it could talk? I listened and this is what I heard.

See the excerpt below from The Pōhutukawa Journal: Voices of the pōhutukawa beginning to speak - spring Equinox, p. 44

I've also included an excerpt from the first page, entitled 'Wild journey.'

Here are some words from the back cover:

'You can't come in here,' said the arborist. 'This is a significant tree, and it's blocking the way.'

I realised the tree was in charge of the land, not me. The pōhutukawa will decide what happens here.'

The Pōhutukawa Journal is available from my website and the link is below in the comments box.

Today's bright moment: karo flowering on the bush track. Such beauty a single flower surrounded by buds about to burst.

Spring energy in action!

What signs are you noticing of eagerness and the pulse of spring in nature?

12 days to spring equinox!
Sept 23

When did you last take time for play? My latest Art in Nature post on Substack shows how playing with my granddaughter on the beach led to creating something new, with intent.

You can subscribe for free to follow these posts by clicking the image below.

Art in Nature: December play December 5 and 9, 2010. I relaxed into beach play as if I were a child, the perfect warm up for what was to come.

Today was a day for regeneration. The day was sunny and calm and at last I was able to get out to the coast, and on to my land.

What a joyful reunion! The harakeke (flax) was glistening on the roadside, and the kawakawa shooting up its spring flower cones on the land.

I met with the gardener who is pulling out weeds every month, especially climbing asparagus and more recently pampas clumps. The more space she opens up the more regeneration is taking place: karo, houhere, karaka, tōtara, pōnga, harakeke, nd so much more.

We were joined by a local guy who is going to make a track and steps to a lookout point. This will make things easier for the gardener, and easier for me to move up the land through the thickening bush.

'Have you planted these trees?' asked the track-builder.
'No', I replied, each species has come from a mother tree seedling that I planted on the bach land next door, 53 years ago. The birds have spread the seeds.

It's so satisfying to see nature's enthusiasm in regenerating this block of land, which has been left untouched.

And of course I visited 'my' ancient pōhutukawa, the matriarch, which sits solidly on the land, having put up new branches over the decades as old ones crashed down in storms. One of these new limbs is reaching high into the sky.

I saved this old tree when the Council advised cutting it down to make way for a parking bay. You can read the story and immerse yourself in nature in my book 'The Pōhutukawa Journal.' I'll put the link into the comments box below.

What is regenerative for you this spring?

Have you been having nourishing conversations lately? Or uplifting ones? — or even sacred?

'Whether we use the metaphor of sound or vision, a sacred conversation results in something greater than the sum of the parts. When we interact at a deep level with others, alchemy occurs and gold emerges from our base metals. . . .

On occasions of sacred conversation, it is as if an unseen presence enters the room and we have been joined by some celestial being: an angel perhaps,a muse, or some ancient god of goddess of good discourse.'

— From 'A Cup of Sunlight: discovering the sacred in everyday life'; chapter 7: Conversing.

I send you these words today to accompany the bright moment of scenting Breath of Heaven in my Village gardens.

To find out more about my prize-winning book 'A Cup of Sunlight', check out the link in the comments below.

Letters to Anne are now being rolled out!

Subscribe for free to follow the story of two 18-year-olds separated across the world, connecting through letter-writing. Good raw data for social historians, as well as being of interest to anyone curious about what it was like to be growing up in the 1960s before the days of social media and internet.

Do let your friends know!

Letters to Anne: Learning to wiggle, and the boys prefer shorts August 10, 1960: My first letter to Anne on the Castel Felice, somewhere out at sea. Here she is receiving a bottle of champagne from the captain for winning the ballroom dancing.