With another wonderful Christmas gift, the Green Man Tree Oracle, I did a reading: What should I keep in mind as I move into the new year? What should I bring forward from last year?
In the Upper World, advice from above for the coming year:
Spindle (Oir)
"Destiny moves us to do great things", follow your deepest desires and your destiny will reveal itself.
In the Lower World, advice from the ancestors, what to bring forward from last year:
Gooseberry (Ifin)
"The ancestors walked the way before you", you have the right to draw on the collective wisdom of those who have walked the path before you.
In the Middle World, what is happening right now that is important to know:
Ivy (Gort)
"Strength comes from accepting support", set aside pride and stubborness, accept the support of those around you.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Compass Points
Gate of dreams, roseate East,
Good beginnings from golden beast.
Southern forests, paths that twist,
Feathered serpent sets the test.
Moon's consort neath starry sky,
Western toad calls choices nigh.
King in sable, heart of flame,
in Northern hall ring songs of fame.
Good beginnings from golden beast.
Southern forests, paths that twist,
Feathered serpent sets the test.
Moon's consort neath starry sky,
Western toad calls choices nigh.
King in sable, heart of flame,
in Northern hall ring songs of fame.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, November 23, 2009
The Spiraling Song of the Lark Ascending
"Is it always the same? The same ending and beginning?"
"For some. But for others, it is the spiraling song of the lark ascending."
How does the lark rise? Not with striving, but with joy. By rejoicing in himself, pure and unnamed, and dancing with the world without fear, he is carried ever higher in bliss. How could he not?
The spiraling song of the lark ascending.
The wheel of Karma can be a millstone that grinds you down with each fruitless turn. Turning everything to dust.
Or it can be a unfolding spiral, expanding boundlessly, that carries you out into a wider world, like a child spinning in the grass until he falls laughing.
The spiraling song of the lark ascending.
The world that surrounds us here and now is our partner. If we dance with her, unashamed, unregreting, how can we not both be lifted to joy? Let us dance!
Let us rise, the spiraling song of the lark ascending!
"For some. But for others, it is the spiraling song of the lark ascending."
How does the lark rise? Not with striving, but with joy. By rejoicing in himself, pure and unnamed, and dancing with the world without fear, he is carried ever higher in bliss. How could he not?
The spiraling song of the lark ascending.
The wheel of Karma can be a millstone that grinds you down with each fruitless turn. Turning everything to dust.
Or it can be a unfolding spiral, expanding boundlessly, that carries you out into a wider world, like a child spinning in the grass until he falls laughing.
The spiraling song of the lark ascending.
The world that surrounds us here and now is our partner. If we dance with her, unashamed, unregreting, how can we not both be lifted to joy? Let us dance!
Let us rise, the spiraling song of the lark ascending!
Saturday, November 7, 2009
A walk in the dark
Another spirit journey, after months of being too busy or tired or worried to do so...
I said to them, You seem kind and friendly, but are there not things down here to fear? What of the terrors and monsters of which I have heard? And in response, they showed me images of the creatures that prowl these tunnels fo night, and which destroy all they encounter.
These creatures were misshapen, some glowing like hot fire, others dark as shadows and as cold. They seemed to rave and mutter to themselves. The gray folk told me that there things were once people as themselves, who lost their center and their balance. Having lost this and the sustenance that the Earth gives with it, they have turned to stealing the life and vitality of other folk. They try to find other people and strike them, to try and get them to respond with fear or anger so that they can snatch it away as their food. The more they do this, the more twisted they become, until they love nothing more than anger and spite and causing hurt.
When such things come around, the gray folk have learned to disappear by drawing themselves into the stone. They showed me how to do this. Then they told me that, once in the stone, I could follow it up to the sun-world and find my way home.
I walked on the seashore, it was dark and quite chilly. The sea was calm. I was having some trouble staying on the dream side, so I took a little time here to focus on the pale sand, the dark sea, the phosphorescent breakers, the tough sea grass rising up to the edge of the trees. I splashed my feet into the water (it was very cold!) and splashed my face, to wake my dream self up and see clearly.
I walked up the path through the grass into the trees, and up the winding path among the trees. There was a lot of moonlight, and many of the trees seemed white or silver, as if there were many birches. The sand on the path glimmered pale. As I approached the edge of the clearing, I could see sunlight through the trees; the clearing was bright and warm, but I was still outside the ring of trees that surround it.
I hesitated for a moment before entering. Several journals I have read have spoken of the terrors and trials of spirit journeys, and I have wondered if I have not delved deeply enough in my journeys to really find the truth, but just stayed in the light and avoided facing the darkness. I don't know; but I said that I was ready to see more and learn more, even if it was dark or frightening.
Then on my right, just outside the clearing, I saw a narrow dark path with branches handing low. I ducked down and started following this path. It was winding and narrow. often low with interlaced branches above. I followed it for a time, and it twisted down and turned into a tunnel into the ground. I kept going. There was still some light coming in behind me, and it was not too dark to see. The tunel was wide but uneven, of packed earth and stone, with tree roots showing. As I kept on, I touched the tree roots for reassurance.
Just as the light behind me faded, I started seeing a flickering red glow ahead. As I approached, I saw that the tunned swelled into a small room and ended. At the far side of the room was a smith, working hot metal over a huge red glowing fire. He saw me but kept working. He was large, and seemed to have a helmet crowned with stag horns, or possibly he had antlers himself. I approached him cautiously. He nodded to me, I was not unwelcome, but he had work to do and kept at it. He was working something in a silvery metal like a very short sword with elaborate hilts.
I asked him what I was there to learn. He laughed and set the sword aside, and said that I would know what I was to learn when I learned it, of course. He showed me the sword, which he explained was not a weapon after all but a tool to split the rocks, made for those down here who did such things. Then he showed me that there were two small tunnels leading off the the left and the right, The left tunnel bent down and was very dark. The right tunnel bent upwards and looked lighter and more inviting.
He asked me, which path was I going to take? The time to choose was now. I answered, Is not the choice false? For don't both paths lead to the same destination? He responded that they did in fact both lead to the same place, but that the path one took often had more impact that the place of arrival. He said that he knew that I had walked much in the light so far, and that I could learn more by walking in the dark for a time. I agreed, and turned towards the left passage. He called out, "Wait! Take this with you, there will come a time when you can use it." and tossed me a thin ring of silver, about two or three inches across. I caught it, and continued down the tunnel.
It immediately became pitch black, I could see nothing at all. I moved forward by feel, trusting my feet and my hands to know where to go. th passage sometimes became so narrow I had to go sideways, and sometimes so low I had to crouch down, but I kept moving forward. After an interminable time, I started to hear water ahead.
A moment later, I felt the passage open out slightly as it ended at the edge of a narrow but briskly running underground stream. I felt a small reed coracle or basket on the ground at my feet. I set the coracle in the water and climbed in, and immediately started moving down the stream at a brisk pace. I could still not see anything, I could just feel the sides of the tunnel sliding by as the water carried my, I knew that no matter what, there would be no returning by this path. I had to put my faith in what lay ahead that I would be delivered safely home.
The river made a turn, and my coracle grounded on a sandy shore. I felt like there were a large chamber in front of me, filled with stone shapes, all hidden to my eyes. Then I noticed that the silver ring was gleaming faintly, as if the moon shone on it, but there was no moon. As I held it up to my eye, I perceived that there was bright moonlight forged into the silver by the craft of the smith, and that it allowed me to see the world around me as teh moon would see it, bathed in faint silvery beams.
I was surrounded by tall stone forms that looked like great fir trees hewn of stone, like a Christmas forest frozen in gray stone, all silent and cold. I wandered through them, wondering, for surely nothing down here had ever seen the sun on the forests I knew. I came in time to a rough stone bench set among the stone trees, and I sat for a while.
After I had collected my thoughts, I called out quietly, Who is in this place? I wish to know you and mean you no harm. And there started to appear from round the trees and stones small gray people, who crept up silently to me, gazing at me with their huge flat eyes, moving their long nimble fingers. They seemed shy, and found the pale gleam of moonlight from my ring overbright.
I sat on the ground so as no to overtop them, and asked them who they were, They said that they had always been here, had been here since the beginning, living among the stones. They seemed a cheerful people, quiet but clever, and showed me some of the marvelous things that they had made for their joy: small, fragile sculptures of silver and gold, music or song that sounded like chiming crystals and melodious drops in still pools.
I walked up the path through the grass into the trees, and up the winding path among the trees. There was a lot of moonlight, and many of the trees seemed white or silver, as if there were many birches. The sand on the path glimmered pale. As I approached the edge of the clearing, I could see sunlight through the trees; the clearing was bright and warm, but I was still outside the ring of trees that surround it.
I hesitated for a moment before entering. Several journals I have read have spoken of the terrors and trials of spirit journeys, and I have wondered if I have not delved deeply enough in my journeys to really find the truth, but just stayed in the light and avoided facing the darkness. I don't know; but I said that I was ready to see more and learn more, even if it was dark or frightening.
Then on my right, just outside the clearing, I saw a narrow dark path with branches handing low. I ducked down and started following this path. It was winding and narrow. often low with interlaced branches above. I followed it for a time, and it twisted down and turned into a tunnel into the ground. I kept going. There was still some light coming in behind me, and it was not too dark to see. The tunel was wide but uneven, of packed earth and stone, with tree roots showing. As I kept on, I touched the tree roots for reassurance.
Just as the light behind me faded, I started seeing a flickering red glow ahead. As I approached, I saw that the tunned swelled into a small room and ended. At the far side of the room was a smith, working hot metal over a huge red glowing fire. He saw me but kept working. He was large, and seemed to have a helmet crowned with stag horns, or possibly he had antlers himself. I approached him cautiously. He nodded to me, I was not unwelcome, but he had work to do and kept at it. He was working something in a silvery metal like a very short sword with elaborate hilts.
I asked him what I was there to learn. He laughed and set the sword aside, and said that I would know what I was to learn when I learned it, of course. He showed me the sword, which he explained was not a weapon after all but a tool to split the rocks, made for those down here who did such things. Then he showed me that there were two small tunnels leading off the the left and the right, The left tunnel bent down and was very dark. The right tunnel bent upwards and looked lighter and more inviting.
He asked me, which path was I going to take? The time to choose was now. I answered, Is not the choice false? For don't both paths lead to the same destination? He responded that they did in fact both lead to the same place, but that the path one took often had more impact that the place of arrival. He said that he knew that I had walked much in the light so far, and that I could learn more by walking in the dark for a time. I agreed, and turned towards the left passage. He called out, "Wait! Take this with you, there will come a time when you can use it." and tossed me a thin ring of silver, about two or three inches across. I caught it, and continued down the tunnel.
It immediately became pitch black, I could see nothing at all. I moved forward by feel, trusting my feet and my hands to know where to go. th passage sometimes became so narrow I had to go sideways, and sometimes so low I had to crouch down, but I kept moving forward. After an interminable time, I started to hear water ahead.
A moment later, I felt the passage open out slightly as it ended at the edge of a narrow but briskly running underground stream. I felt a small reed coracle or basket on the ground at my feet. I set the coracle in the water and climbed in, and immediately started moving down the stream at a brisk pace. I could still not see anything, I could just feel the sides of the tunnel sliding by as the water carried my, I knew that no matter what, there would be no returning by this path. I had to put my faith in what lay ahead that I would be delivered safely home.
The river made a turn, and my coracle grounded on a sandy shore. I felt like there were a large chamber in front of me, filled with stone shapes, all hidden to my eyes. Then I noticed that the silver ring was gleaming faintly, as if the moon shone on it, but there was no moon. As I held it up to my eye, I perceived that there was bright moonlight forged into the silver by the craft of the smith, and that it allowed me to see the world around me as teh moon would see it, bathed in faint silvery beams.
I was surrounded by tall stone forms that looked like great fir trees hewn of stone, like a Christmas forest frozen in gray stone, all silent and cold. I wandered through them, wondering, for surely nothing down here had ever seen the sun on the forests I knew. I came in time to a rough stone bench set among the stone trees, and I sat for a while.
After I had collected my thoughts, I called out quietly, Who is in this place? I wish to know you and mean you no harm. And there started to appear from round the trees and stones small gray people, who crept up silently to me, gazing at me with their huge flat eyes, moving their long nimble fingers. They seemed shy, and found the pale gleam of moonlight from my ring overbright.
I sat on the ground so as no to overtop them, and asked them who they were, They said that they had always been here, had been here since the beginning, living among the stones. They seemed a cheerful people, quiet but clever, and showed me some of the marvelous things that they had made for their joy: small, fragile sculptures of silver and gold, music or song that sounded like chiming crystals and melodious drops in still pools.
I asked how to you live? Where is your food? And they showed me that they receive their life directly from the Earth itself, as a free gift. They showed me how to sit quietly on the stone, and allow the grace of the Earth to rise within me, filling me and satisfying all my needs. They said that anyone can receive this, as long as they are calm and centered and keep a balance in their hearts.
I said to them, You seem kind and friendly, but are there not things down here to fear? What of the terrors and monsters of which I have heard? And in response, they showed me images of the creatures that prowl these tunnels fo night, and which destroy all they encounter.
These creatures were misshapen, some glowing like hot fire, others dark as shadows and as cold. They seemed to rave and mutter to themselves. The gray folk told me that there things were once people as themselves, who lost their center and their balance. Having lost this and the sustenance that the Earth gives with it, they have turned to stealing the life and vitality of other folk. They try to find other people and strike them, to try and get them to respond with fear or anger so that they can snatch it away as their food. The more they do this, the more twisted they become, until they love nothing more than anger and spite and causing hurt.
When such things come around, the gray folk have learned to disappear by drawing themselves into the stone. They showed me how to do this. Then they told me that, once in the stone, I could follow it up to the sun-world and find my way home.
I thanked them very much for all that they had shown me. I put the ring in my mouth to keep it safe, and slid into the embrace of the Earth. I moved upwards, and felt the warmth of the sun striking a ridge of stone in my clearing. I emerged there, and after thanking the Earth for all its aid, I came home
When I awoke, I could still feel the ring inside my mouth. I know it will be with me, ready to shed light in the darkness.
When I awoke, I could still feel the ring inside my mouth. I know it will be with me, ready to shed light in the darkness.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Thresholds
Well, we have once again successfully crossed the treacherous threshold, and passed from the hands of the Oak King safely into the hands of the Holly King. The night after Halloween I had many dreams of gateways, doors, and thresholds, and woke with a feeling of relief that the state of suspension and tension that seemed to characterize September and October had passed and life was once more on track and following the stately turn of the wheel. The Holly King's embrace can be chilly, but it is dependable and secure, and he guards the world for us. It is just at the time of turning, when warmth and light are fading, but winter has not settled in, that seems fragile. The walls between the worlds seem thin. Chaotic forces strive to enter our lives; the dark gate for a time opens both ways; all things seem to be wearing masks -- nothing is quite what it seems, for good or ill. We dance and celebrate our dark natures, and hide behind our own masks, hoping to pass through the passage safely and find our feet again. By the grace of the Moon, and the goodwill of Oak, Holly, and all strong things, we have done so again, and we are safe.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The Linchpins of My Year
Many pagans honor the old holidays (Beltane, Imbolc, Lammas, Samhain) and the solstices and equinoxes to celebrate the turning of the year. Most of these don't really resonate for me. So I thought I would set down the times of the year that stand out personally for me, when I really become aware of the turn of the wheel and the cycles of life. These are the seasons that structure my personal year.
Winter solstice. I am a creature of the sun, I can really feel it when the days shorten and darkeness gains ascendency over the day. I can feel the ancient fear as the days shorten, the plants and animals sleep, and one cannot but help wonder what would happen if the sun kept retreating and never came back. On the day that the darkness turns, and day begins once again to advance against night, I feel a powerful and holy sense of the fragility of life and the grace of redemption by which we all live.
Spring wildflower blooms. As the year brightens, I look forward to the appearance of the tiny bright wildflowers in the dry sere fields. When they all suddenly start to appear, flaring up and spreading like flames of blue, scarlet, gold, white, purple, my heart is always lifted. Most people walk by or over these tiny gems of color without even noticing them; or thnk only of spraying weedkiller. But they always are a source of joy and wonder to me, every spring. They are so exuberant and full of vigorous life, their colors so subtle and rich, their shapes so graceful and complex, that I can lay in the grass and stare at them for hours. If, in dry, dead, abandoned lots and fields such wild beauty can burst forth, what can we not acomplish if we will only strive for it?
Fall leaf turning. I love the fall. The weather is cooling and becoming wonderful to be outside again. The trees that I love and talk to are turning from rich green to a thousand shades of red, gold, and brown, as their leaves die and seem to celebrate their own death. The colors are miraculous and vivid, I have wished since childhood to have some way to hold onto those lucious colors but they fade so quickly and are gone. I finally realized that this swift fading is part of their beauty. It is a gift, to be lived and enjoyed, and then let go. This is a season of melancholy, but also of exaultation; as once again nature dies around me, blazing in fleeting beauty, I can feel the heart of nature drawing inward and preparing for its own joyous rebirth.
Winter solstice. I am a creature of the sun, I can really feel it when the days shorten and darkeness gains ascendency over the day. I can feel the ancient fear as the days shorten, the plants and animals sleep, and one cannot but help wonder what would happen if the sun kept retreating and never came back. On the day that the darkness turns, and day begins once again to advance against night, I feel a powerful and holy sense of the fragility of life and the grace of redemption by which we all live.
Spring wildflower blooms. As the year brightens, I look forward to the appearance of the tiny bright wildflowers in the dry sere fields. When they all suddenly start to appear, flaring up and spreading like flames of blue, scarlet, gold, white, purple, my heart is always lifted. Most people walk by or over these tiny gems of color without even noticing them; or thnk only of spraying weedkiller. But they always are a source of joy and wonder to me, every spring. They are so exuberant and full of vigorous life, their colors so subtle and rich, their shapes so graceful and complex, that I can lay in the grass and stare at them for hours. If, in dry, dead, abandoned lots and fields such wild beauty can burst forth, what can we not acomplish if we will only strive for it?
Fall leaf turning. I love the fall. The weather is cooling and becoming wonderful to be outside again. The trees that I love and talk to are turning from rich green to a thousand shades of red, gold, and brown, as their leaves die and seem to celebrate their own death. The colors are miraculous and vivid, I have wished since childhood to have some way to hold onto those lucious colors but they fade so quickly and are gone. I finally realized that this swift fading is part of their beauty. It is a gift, to be lived and enjoyed, and then let go. This is a season of melancholy, but also of exaultation; as once again nature dies around me, blazing in fleeting beauty, I can feel the heart of nature drawing inward and preparing for its own joyous rebirth.
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