The Ancestors Fire Ring

Athena had had a series of dreams about my late dad, and thought that he may have a message for me. So I went on a journey tonight, to talk with my beloved ancestors...

I sat in the back yard on a large stone, and lit some mugwort on a charcoal tablet.  Using my turkey feathers I smoked myself and sang my power song; on the last verse I took flight with the feathers and soared away.

Landing on the shore of the ink-dark sea, in a windy chill night, I walked up the path into the trees.  There were tumbled stones beside the path, looking like the river rocks of Missouri.  As I entered the clearing, I saw the sun and the moon in the sky together, lacing the world with silver and gold beams.  The grass was green, but it was a bit chilly.

I greeted Oak, Swallow, Spider, and Water Drake, and thanked them for their gifts.  I told them I wanted to visit my ancestors, where should I go to do this?  They directed me to a small hillock off to the left, which was crowned with a ring of stones.  The path spiraled up around the hillock to the entrance in the ring.  I walked up and entered the ring of stones.

The ring was not large, maybe 30 ft wide, made of rough stones about shoulder height or smaller.  In the center was a large campfire, with logs and rough benches around it.  There were shadowy presences around it, I could sense that there were many generations of people who frequent this place in many layers of time.

I sat down by the fire and asked if my father would come and talk to me, and if he had a message.  Almost immediately I saw him sitting just to the right of me.  His face was illuminated by the fire light, and he was smiling at me.  He was very clear, just as I knew him for many years.

I told him how much I missed him and how much I loved and appreciated him and what he had taught me throughout me life.  He reached out his hand and we clasped hands, squeezing my hand confidently.  He told me that I would do fine, that I had strength, wisdom, and intelligence to do well and everything would work out for me and my family.  He was confident in me, and took pride in my achievements.  He reiterated that I did not need to worry that things would all work out.

He said he was very proud of my kids.  He would keep an eye on them, but that they really did not need special protection - they are both strong, intelligent, and will be successful.

We hugged, and I felt the strength in him, and it made me feel very happy.  He said that he would be happy to talk anytime I wanted, that he as always there for me.

I then asked if there was anyone else that wanted to talk to me.  I asked if my brother was there, who died years ago.  He was, and appeared nearby.  We spoke only briefly, I told him how much I appreciated his pride and confidence in me when I was growing up, that seeing myself reflected in his eyes is one thing that really helped me become a confident and successful person.

There were others, fading in and out: grandma and grandpa, grandmother, and others I had seen on previous journeys - indian men, an old indian woman, a viking man.  But none appeared for more than a moment.

I took my leave, and walked down the hill.  Thanking my guides, I returned to crystalline darkness of the sea, and flew home on my turkey feathers.

Solstice fire, with visitors

A fraught and frantic December, and I was coming down with a bit of a head cold, but I felt the need to make some observance for the solstice. It is to me the most deep, numinous, and bone-felt of the holy days, when the world shudders in the grip of dark and cold.

I built a fire in the firepit on back porch out of oak leaves dropped by my friend in the front yard. I knew the fire would only last for a while, so I put a candle by ready to catch the last flames and hold them for the night.  I sat down by the fire and stared into it, communing with the flames and letting the rest of the world fade away.  I didn't think about anything in particular, just let my mind quiet and let the rustle of the wind and the flowing of the flames fill me. 

After a time staring at the flames, and seeing the circle of the firepit flare orange, I became aware of others sitting with me around the fire.  On my right hand was the Indian man, Teacher of Boys-to-Men, who had danced with me earlier in the year.  Beside him was a large man dressed in furs and boots, who I knew to be a Dane, but with no helmet, armor, or weapons.  On my left had sat a very old Indian woman with her gray hair pulled back and weaving in her hands, who laughed and smiled at the fire.  There were many others, elders, warriors, folk of many races, who gathered with us around the fire.

No one spoke, we all just shared the fire and each other's presence.  I felt the immense depths of time; all these wise folk had in their lives honored Winter and sat vigil by the fire on the longest night of the year, each in their own time and place, and me among them.  At the solstice fire, time thins and we all share, all sensing each other's presence and support in the silence.  I knew that these were all ancient ancestors and elders who had felt the mystery of the darkness and the hope of the fire, and had sat alone, just as I, to feel the turning of the year.  I knew that some here were my many-times-grandchildren also, that the thread of mystery and reverence continues.  Just as I have been supported and guided by many spirits and ancestors, so I will take my turn eventually to aid and guide those who come after me.

As the fire faded, my companions faded from my awareness also.  I caught the last flicker of the oak flames securely on the wick of my candle, which I nestled safely in the firepit to light our path to the next year, and went in to bed.


Ancestor

I took a spirit journey the other night.  It was clear and cool at the shore, the sky was clear and the stars lucent; Jupiter and Venus in conjunction with the crescent moon were brilliant.  The sea was crystalline and dark.  I walked up the path into the trees.
I was well into the woods when I saw a man standing beside the path ahead of me.  He was an Indian (Native American) man, in traditional plains attire with feathered and beaded boots.  He smiled at me, and took a few dance steps/stomps, and guestured for me to do the same.  I did, and he smiled and did a few more; for a few minutes he danced softly with me, encouraging me to stand pround and strut in the dance.  He said that he was proud of me, and that I should be proud of myself.
I am a quiet, gentle, soft-spoken person, uninterested in sports.  Although I am a tribe member, I know practically nothing of my tribe's traditional culture or language.  He said that this does not make me less of a man, or less of an Indian.  Although I have not followed the traditional paths, and have never been made a man by the traditional rituals, I have found my own paths and have earned my manhood and my place by my own experiences, wisdom, and gifts; and I need apologize to no one.  Strength is shown in gentleness, and wisdom in tolerance.  He is proud to claim me as a descendant.
With thanks, we parted and I continued up the path.