It has been one heck of a weekend. For at least a week I've been feeling a bit down, but I just chalked that up to events going on around me -- the on set of Winter with her shorter periods of sunlight, as well as possibly taking on some of the challenges currently facing friends and loved ones.
This past weekend, however, having spent the majority of both days sleeping on the couch, and not in a refreshing, recharging-batteries, kind of way but because I just didn't have the energy or emotional stamina to do anything else. Trying to move felt like moving through a thick soup of some sort. I lay there absolutely drained, in the midst of heaviness, sadness, loneliness, and other such states, along with a stomach that would not settle down, I realized this was too familiar an experience to be anyone else's stuff but my own. The flash backs of an anxiety and depression soaked existence began to haunt me and I began to recognize the familiar thoughts floating through my mind, mostly in the form of a single question, "What's wrong with me?" I felt exasperated -- Haven't I gone through this enough times already? Haven't I grown past it yet?
And my dreams of late have been intense, bizarre, and not very restful at all, contributing to my tiredness and edginess. I've wondered if that has anything to do with the retreat we are going on in a couple weeks for my shamna class -- a retreat specifically on dreams. I will also be participating in two separate sweat lodges coming up in a two week period. So it's understandable that there are a lot of things moving to be cleared right now. I've heard that from the time you agree to take part in a ceremony such as a sweat lodge or this retreat, you actually are already beginning the processes that take place at such ceremonies.
As my Reiki teacher friend asked tonight, as we hugged good night after a Halloween dinner we'd both attended -- "Another shamanic death?" "Uh-huh..." I replied with a sigh. And it wasn't lost on me the timing of this particular death/rebirth on Samhain -- Halloween -- when the veil between the worlds is the thinnest.
But at least I have grown. At least I am beginning to recognize when these things start -- maybe not right away, but it only takes a day or two. It's still not fun or easy, but knowing what's going on helps alot. And unlike the past, I was able to eventually overcome my immobility, in order to ground and clear myself enough to do around 10 card readings last night. I also, despite my slothful heaviness, was able to have the following text conversation with my friend yesterday. I responded to a text from her by telling her I was feeling "kinda out of it and kinda depressed," and as she continued to fail to reply to each of my responses, the following texts just slowly, one by one, trickled out...
"Could be cuz I fell asleep w/ my laptop on my solar plexus..."
"...I think it sucked out my soul..."
"...And right this moment someone is buying it on ebay..."
"...which means I'll probly have 2 reincarnate as an amoeba next time 2 start building a new soul..."
"...Especially since I lost the receipt for the first 1..."
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Newton -- Go 'Fig'
It's funny how little things keep coming back again and again and again. I drew the above comic many years ago, but in case you can't read, in the bottom left panel, the third book title listed, (yes, the one after "The Scarlet Pimpernel In Outer Space") reads "Living A Quantum Reality In A Newtonian World." Now, when I drew it, that was just another seemingly complex-sounding title amongst the other whimsical and obscure books, but at the same time, that title has stuck with me up to the present -- Til just yesterday actually, when it popped into my head again.I've been struggling a little lately, dealing with some interesting situations, and along with the gathering darkness of the shortening days, I've found myself starting to slide into a bit of a depression. Things have been getting a bit heavy, and I've been feeling like I'm constantly having to exert great deals of energy just to stand up straight and not be bowled over by the stuff going on around me. Then I remembered the Newtonian thing and the lights went on.
To me the Newtonian, or "old physics," world is the world of cause and effect, duality, mechanical clock-work, separation, and as one friend put it once -- "mountain v.s. mountain." It is a seemingly lifeless, unmagickal, unenchanted reality, and when I get caught in it I get depressed. In fact, looking back at the "Anxiety Years" of my life, I can clearly see that all the anxiety, fear, worry, doubts, crises, were due to not being able to see beyond this world.
I am not denying the physical world, it's existence, or it's purpose. We are here for a reason and it's not going to do anyone any good to ignore certain things -- gravity for instance. It's just getting trapped into thinking that it is all there is to reality -- and "trapped" is the perfect word! -- is a pretty bleak place to be, at least for me -- your friendly neighborhood unicorn. -:)
In fact, one of the first things I did that turned me around during those years was to hang a print of a famous painting on the wall: Midsummer Eve by Arthur Hughes --
This picture became a life line to me, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that. This became a portal connecting me to the unseen world, reminding me that there is more to reality than meets the eye. Every time I'd look at it my spirits would lighten exponentially as I recognized the "other" world, the world that lies behind and supports the three dimensional world, the world that the Newtonian world is made from -- the Quantum world. It reminds me of the phrase, "Be in the world, not of the world."
There is a river that runs through my soul, and that river is called "Whimsy." It's waters feed and bathe my very spirit. It can not exist in the Newtonian world -- not without a portal connecting it with the other world, the Quantum world from which it springs -- literally.
MY world, my reality, is a quantum reality. I live in a holographic universe. Every cell, every atom, every quark is a living, vibrant, intelligent, faery light of a being. Every cell, atom, and quark is connected, connected in a great playful dance, for they are part of the same being -- there is no separation in my world. I am part of that dance, of that being, that laughing rainbow Mother Goddess of us all. We are in Her, and She is in us. The Universe is alive and bursting with intelligence, with humor, with light, and with love. Our Mother Universe is Love. And that truly is all you need.
...so why would I want to live in any other world?... -;)
Sunday, October 24, 2010
All In Gest
It was the 2nd of a weekly class I have recently begun with a new shamanic teacher. This one is slightly different from any others I've taken, though, in that it is ultimately a 3 year program. I was quite excited, having heard rave reviews from numerous sources about this teacher, including a dear friend who has had private sessions with her, and who is taking this class with me because of those personal interactions. I also find it amusing that I've been involved in the drum circle of this teacher's mother, who in fact is the one who taught the drum-making class where I made my drum, Cougar Moon, before I ever had a clue that the two women are related.
Anyway, I was furiously writing, trying to keep up with the profound phrases that just seem to flow from my teacher's tongue, when without warning or fanfare, my stomach just suddenly sank. A couple minutes later, when the teacher called our break, I suddely felt anxious and a little bit nauseous. It felt like I had a huge, tight knot in my belly. Not very pleasant.
After getting some water, which did nothing to alleviate the discomfort, I explained to my friend what was going on. She looked at me, and with a smirk on her face she replied, "Maybe you're pregnant." I looked her straight in the eye and said, "You know, there is something I've been meaning to tell you..." She laughed and asked if she could feel. "Okay, but in some places that means we're married now."
She is a Reiki Master, in fact the one who attuned me, so I welcomed her input if she could either make it feel better, or atleast tell me what's going on -- what issues are at the core of the feelings. So we stood there for a minute or two with her hand on my stomach, then she finally said, "I think you really are gestating something."
We started walking back to the class room and I joked, "Well I guess we'll see what happens in 9 months!"
I stopped short. "Holy crap!" It struck us both at the same time that this First Year class was 9 months long...
So I guess we will see what happens in 9 months, and who I will be reborn as... :)
Anyway, I was furiously writing, trying to keep up with the profound phrases that just seem to flow from my teacher's tongue, when without warning or fanfare, my stomach just suddenly sank. A couple minutes later, when the teacher called our break, I suddely felt anxious and a little bit nauseous. It felt like I had a huge, tight knot in my belly. Not very pleasant.
After getting some water, which did nothing to alleviate the discomfort, I explained to my friend what was going on. She looked at me, and with a smirk on her face she replied, "Maybe you're pregnant." I looked her straight in the eye and said, "You know, there is something I've been meaning to tell you..." She laughed and asked if she could feel. "Okay, but in some places that means we're married now."
She is a Reiki Master, in fact the one who attuned me, so I welcomed her input if she could either make it feel better, or atleast tell me what's going on -- what issues are at the core of the feelings. So we stood there for a minute or two with her hand on my stomach, then she finally said, "I think you really are gestating something."
We started walking back to the class room and I joked, "Well I guess we'll see what happens in 9 months!"
I stopped short. "Holy crap!" It struck us both at the same time that this First Year class was 9 months long...
So I guess we will see what happens in 9 months, and who I will be reborn as... :)
Psycho-Pomp And Circumstance
It is so fascinating how different elements of the past mesh and meld to come together and create something greater than its parts. It makes me grateful for all my experiences, no matter how seemingly insignificant or negative, because the chaotic meanderings of the past suddenly fall into patterns from the perspective of the present. Martha Beck talks about living life backwards, starting from here and now and tracing it backwards to see all the little "random" and "chance" happenings that had to take place for you to be where you are now. "Oh! That's why that happened!" Suddenly these things aren't so random anymore and it becomes apparent how the Universe happens on purpose, for your highest good, to get you to where you need to go.
And so it is, I can look back and see all the things that have led up to this past week when I find myself taking on a role that totally makes sense to me, and I realize it's probably time I finally claim it. What role is that, you may ask? In my ever-expanding shamanic repertoire, I discovered I've become a Psycho Pomp -- or more accurately, an Animal Psycho Pomp.
Of course I know that you know what that is, but for the benefit of the others reading over your shoulder who might not, a psycho pomp is someone who guides souls that are crossing over to the afterlife. Traditionally through mythology this was the domain of the likes of Charon (the Greek ferryman of the dead), Hermes, the Valkyries, and Anubis. Those beings are still there and available for aid in this work, but especially with the excessive population growth, this kind of work is, and probably will be, more in demand as the volume of souls crossing over increases. From my understanding and experience, though, the ones most in need of this kind of work are those souls who died tragically and/or quickly, and don't realize they are dead. I won't go into the intricacies of how this overlaps with ghosts and hauntings, etc, mostly because that lies outside my personal experience and expertise, but if you are interested in learning more about that aspect, check out my friend Kelly's meetup group "Haunted Healings."
Where did this kind of thing start for me? I think being raised Catholic had a huge influence, giving me a great framework for the hereafter, not to mention the fact that I used to talk to my dead relatives all the time (although, at this point they weren't talking back... yet -- at least as far as I could hear). So, in the mid 90s when Oakbridge University -- the same group that does the Jeshua channelings I attend -- began doing a Spiritual Rescue Group, I already had a solid foundation to build on.
So, once a week I found myself sitting in a meditative circle with about 4 or 5 others, opening to help those who had passed on but didn't yet know it. Because their focus was still in this direction rather than moving on to the Light, our job was to connect with them and either help them understand they were no longer alive and turn them around toward the Light, or just get their attention so that light workers on the other side could come and help them.
So I sat there week after week after week -- and that's all I did. But even though I hadn't quite opened up to my psychic skills yet I had some interesting experiences all the same. One of the women would mention that the "little people" were present (and usually gathering around my feet), and I began to recognize the tingling feeling that would run between my feet and knees just before she would say something. Another time while I sat there, I felt this energy start whirling up from the floor all around me. It was so strong that one of the other people felt it and asked what was going on with me. I explained to the group what I was feeling and the one who had asked the question started to describe a woman who was embracing me -- A 'cousin-in-law' who I felt very close to and who had many months earlier taken her own life. The message she gave me through this other person in the group was gratitude for helping her after she passed (I had been praying and sending light and love like crazy!) and she said it was very easy to love me. At that point I felt a small peck on my lips -- kissed by her spirit, then she was gone.
Finally after months and months there came a significant night. I sat there as usual, a bit frustrated because everyone else was seeing things and helping spirits, and I didn't feel I was doing anything. Suddenly onto my mental screen burst this scene -- A man being dragged by his dogsled! I began talking really, really fast trying to catch all the details of what I was seeing. Then I discovered I didn't have to, because others started to describe the same scene, including details I hadn't yet gotten around to voicing. This man was so concerned for the safety of his dogs that his spirit kept hanging on to the dogsled, not realizing that he was dead. I don't know when his death had occurred -- There is no time in that realm so these scenarios can repeat in an endless loop until the person realizes what's happening -- and that's where we came in. Somehow by our talking to him, we broke that cycle and he was able to get the sled under control and stopped. Then I believe it was his dogs (all being dead as well, since this had happened long ago in our reality) who came and escorted him into the light.
Since then I have from time to time helped spirits who had suddenly come to me just out of the blue -- usually with the aid of Jeshua or deceased family members of the lost soul -- to find their way to the Light. But being who I am, I was constantly drawn to the animal kingdom, and would 'check in' with the spirits of road kill animals whenever I saw them. The interesting thing is that, very rarely did I need to help them find the light -- particularly 'wild' animals. Still, I did find myself helping others:
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And so it is, I can look back and see all the things that have led up to this past week when I find myself taking on a role that totally makes sense to me, and I realize it's probably time I finally claim it. What role is that, you may ask? In my ever-expanding shamanic repertoire, I discovered I've become a Psycho Pomp -- or more accurately, an Animal Psycho Pomp.
Of course I know that you know what that is, but for the benefit of the others reading over your shoulder who might not, a psycho pomp is someone who guides souls that are crossing over to the afterlife. Traditionally through mythology this was the domain of the likes of Charon (the Greek ferryman of the dead), Hermes, the Valkyries, and Anubis. Those beings are still there and available for aid in this work, but especially with the excessive population growth, this kind of work is, and probably will be, more in demand as the volume of souls crossing over increases. From my understanding and experience, though, the ones most in need of this kind of work are those souls who died tragically and/or quickly, and don't realize they are dead. I won't go into the intricacies of how this overlaps with ghosts and hauntings, etc, mostly because that lies outside my personal experience and expertise, but if you are interested in learning more about that aspect, check out my friend Kelly's meetup group "Haunted Healings."
Where did this kind of thing start for me? I think being raised Catholic had a huge influence, giving me a great framework for the hereafter, not to mention the fact that I used to talk to my dead relatives all the time (although, at this point they weren't talking back... yet -- at least as far as I could hear). So, in the mid 90s when Oakbridge University -- the same group that does the Jeshua channelings I attend -- began doing a Spiritual Rescue Group, I already had a solid foundation to build on.
So, once a week I found myself sitting in a meditative circle with about 4 or 5 others, opening to help those who had passed on but didn't yet know it. Because their focus was still in this direction rather than moving on to the Light, our job was to connect with them and either help them understand they were no longer alive and turn them around toward the Light, or just get their attention so that light workers on the other side could come and help them.
So I sat there week after week after week -- and that's all I did. But even though I hadn't quite opened up to my psychic skills yet I had some interesting experiences all the same. One of the women would mention that the "little people" were present (and usually gathering around my feet), and I began to recognize the tingling feeling that would run between my feet and knees just before she would say something. Another time while I sat there, I felt this energy start whirling up from the floor all around me. It was so strong that one of the other people felt it and asked what was going on with me. I explained to the group what I was feeling and the one who had asked the question started to describe a woman who was embracing me -- A 'cousin-in-law' who I felt very close to and who had many months earlier taken her own life. The message she gave me through this other person in the group was gratitude for helping her after she passed (I had been praying and sending light and love like crazy!) and she said it was very easy to love me. At that point I felt a small peck on my lips -- kissed by her spirit, then she was gone.
Finally after months and months there came a significant night. I sat there as usual, a bit frustrated because everyone else was seeing things and helping spirits, and I didn't feel I was doing anything. Suddenly onto my mental screen burst this scene -- A man being dragged by his dogsled! I began talking really, really fast trying to catch all the details of what I was seeing. Then I discovered I didn't have to, because others started to describe the same scene, including details I hadn't yet gotten around to voicing. This man was so concerned for the safety of his dogs that his spirit kept hanging on to the dogsled, not realizing that he was dead. I don't know when his death had occurred -- There is no time in that realm so these scenarios can repeat in an endless loop until the person realizes what's happening -- and that's where we came in. Somehow by our talking to him, we broke that cycle and he was able to get the sled under control and stopped. Then I believe it was his dogs (all being dead as well, since this had happened long ago in our reality) who came and escorted him into the light.
Since then I have from time to time helped spirits who had suddenly come to me just out of the blue -- usually with the aid of Jeshua or deceased family members of the lost soul -- to find their way to the Light. But being who I am, I was constantly drawn to the animal kingdom, and would 'check in' with the spirits of road kill animals whenever I saw them. The interesting thing is that, very rarely did I need to help them find the light -- particularly 'wild' animals. Still, I did find myself helping others:
For the most part, at least from my experiences, even domestic animals don't tend to have that much trouble passing and moving to the light...
And so, this past week or two I shouldn't have been so surprised to find myself again in that role. Out of the blue, a friend from my psychic development class referred two separate people, one right after the other, to me because they each had a pet -- a cat and a dog -- who was close to passing. I am always pleasantly caught by surprise at people's faith in me, particularly since, though Animal Communication was originally the main focus for my path and work after that class, it is probably the area of least confidence for me.
The really funny thing is that, even when I was learning Animal Communication, I found it easier to communicate with dead animals than with live ones. In fact, one time we were assigned to read the pets of friends, preferably ones we hadn't met, and so I tried to talk to a friend's cat in Wisconsin. I got lots of info, and felt really good about it, until I got the feedback from my friend. It was something along the lines of, "Well, I could kind of see how that could be true and I suppose if you looked at it this other way, the other thing you said kind of fits..." Not quite the stellar validation I'd hoped for. On an intuitive hit, I asked her again if there were, or had been, any other animals there, living or dead, because sometimes the wires get crossed and I might be picking up on someone else. If it's possible to experience a dramatic pause through email, this was it. Then her response came back and her excitement burst at me from her words. EVERY thing I said fit perfectly with her cat that had passed some time before that. I had been talking to her dead cat!
Anyway, I won't go into details of these latest couple of cases in order to protect privacy (and because this entry has probably rambled on long enough already :)), but the best part of this kind of work is feeling the extreme joy and ecstasy the individual animal experiences once they are free of the confines of the physical body. The cat actually showed me his wings as he zipped around, and I kept seeing the dog in a dead run (no pun intended --) joyously sprinting across a field with tongue hanging out of her mouth, flapping in the wind.
Animals tend to be not as connected to the physical body as humans do, and I find, particularly toward the end of their lives, and especially during the seemingly most painful periods, their spirit is many times either partly or wholly not present, which allows them, firstly, to detach from the suffering and, secondly, to go off in order to explore the possibilities for the next step on their individual path.
And I find that it's not really for the animal's sake, at least directly (they hardly ever need help crossing over) that I do this, but it's more for the sake of the humans. It's usually more a case of bridging the worlds between animals and humans, to let the people know what they are, or aren't, understanding about what's happening. In the best circumstances it's a confirming to the people that they really are hearing and doing everything right according to the animal's needs and desires.
As with all my other shamanic experiences, it's really a case of just being willing to show up and allow whatever it is the Universe wishes to accomplish through me to happen. And also, as with all my other shamanic experiences, it is always a deep gratitude that I feel afterwards, no matter what level of confidence I went into it with, as I experience the relief and healing of others around me that comes as a result of my simply being who I am.
I love my job!
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Mom... Dad... I'm Fae
If you've been reading my blog for awhile, you might recognize this entry as a reprint of an earlier post, but it seemed only right to post again the story of my "real" birth on my birthday. Enjoy!
Note: This entry became a lot longer and more involved than I had originally planned. In fact I was considering breaking it into two posts. It is, again, a story from my personal mythology, in fact MY story from my personal mythology, and how I came to be. If you would like the story only, you may skip ahead to the blue section. Otherwise you will get the whole DVD-special-features-behind-the-scenes-making-of documentary. Either way, thank you for reading. :)
Since I can remember, I felt like I didn't belong with my family. Even people on the outside would ask how I ended up with them. It never occurred to me that I really might not belong with them until a seed thought was planted in my mind.
At school one day, I don't remember what grade I was in, another student's dad saw me and said, incidentally, "Corrigan. That's another name for the little people." The full importance of that statement, and the hidden meaning of my last name, didn't hit me at first, but the seed began to grow over many years.
As I outgrew my childhood beliefs and structures, and my world developed and expanded beyond the accepted boundaries of my up-bringing, and my family, these fish-out-of-water feelings only increased, and most of the time, even in my own mind, it was me who was, at best, weird, at worst, wrong.
But as my world grew and began to include ever expanding possibilities of various dimensions and parallel worlds, inevitably I became introduced to the realm of Faerie. Granted it started slowly with "wouldn't it be cool if...", fueled by images of the Cottingly Fairies and the like, but it has blossomed into, not only a full-on belief, but a complete knowingness of the existence of the Wee Folk. Actually to the point of missing the little blue sparkly flashes of light, seen out of the corner of my eye, when my apartment faeries are being, perhaps, a little too quiet.
Even from the beginnings of my forays into Faery, that statement of my last name being ‘another word for the little people’ never left me. So you can just imagine my delight at the point where I discovered a dictionary of the faery folk, and verified the truth of that statement. Perhaps ‘delight’ is not the proper word. More of an Oh-my-god-and-holy-crap-it's-true-dumb-founded recognition of another cosmic puzzle piece falling into place . Yes. Quite delightful.
I believe it was at that point that the seed began to germinate, and a story began to form in the back of my mind as to my true origins. I had read about 'star children' and the different indicators, most of which I fit, that would suggest you were an alien born into a human body. Yet that didn't quite sit right with me. I felt too connected to the earth to be from somewhere else. But, were I changeling, a faery baby switched at birth with a human baby, that just felt so much more plausible!
None of my research into Corrigans, or Korrigans, contradicted my story, but rather fueled my excited imagination. The Corrigan originate mostly from Brittany, and are the type that appear as human women, who sit by pools of water, alone or sometimes in groups up to nine, combing their long hair in the moonlight. During the day, though, they take on the appearance of old hags. They are also shape-shifters, able to change into any creature they want.
Now I hadn't meant to recount the whole story here, just give bits and pieces and highlights as I had them figured out. However, when I began writing, things just started to flow and, before I knew it, I had what follows. With all of that in mind, this is the story as I've reconstructed it so far... (*Ahem!*)
Once upon a time, there was a magickal pool, and around this pool sat nine sisters. At least they sat around the pool at night, combing their long, glorious hair that shimmered in the moonlight, because that was when they appeared beautiful and young. During the day they stayed out of sight for in the sunlight they had the appearance of old, wrinkled crones. This was slightly offset by their ability to change into any creature they desired.
One of the sisters, My'riad, wishing to be alone one day, assumed her favorite shape, that of a unicorn, and wandered out into the sun dappled forest. So lost in the beauty of the woods was she that, not until the snapping of a twig brought her back to the present, did she realize she was not alone.
In a single instant, she saw the arrow pointed at her, saw it loosed from it's string, saw a hand strike the bow, and watched the arrow whistle harmlessly into the under brush beside where she stood. Without thought she fled, disappearing into the trees, but, as is the habit of most curious wild creatures, she circled back around to investigate what had, just moments ago, threatened her very life. What she saw was two men, one of whom was red in the face from screaming at the other man, "Bastard! You cost me a unicorn! I could have been set up for life! How dare you interfere with my shot! If I see you again you will pay with your life!" And the man stomped, very noisily, off into the woods.
The other man stood silently for a moment, watching where the first man had gone, then without turning his head, he said quietly, "You're not a real unicorn are you." The only answer was a gasp as the faery woman's, currently fuzzy, chin dropped and her eyes widened in shock. Who was this man who not only sensed her presence, but that she wasn't who she appeared to be? He turned toward her, reaching out an inviting hand and an even more inviting smile. Darkness had begun to fall so she allowed herself to slip back into her human form -- her beautiful, young human form -- and slip her hand softly into his. There was a rush of energy as they touched and, beneath the splendor of the rising moon, they kissed for the first time.
They kissed many more times that night, among other things I can not mention without having to tag this blog as unsuitable for minors, and as the first rays of the sun began to break across the horizon, he whispered softly in her ear, "I know who you are, and I release you." Her mind reeled as she was overcome at this, for this is the only way a Corrigan may become, and remain, young and beautiful -- A human man who loves her enough to allow her to be who she is. A joy she had not known washed over her, coupled with the certain knowledge that a miracle had been conceived within her.
My'riad returned with him to his cottage in the woods where they lived happily together for some time, and her belly continued to swell. One evening, though, her husband did not return from his hunt. Her concern grew and she set out in search of him, again taking the unicorn's shape, as four legs could carry her more swiftly than two. Oh! If only she had had six, perhaps she would have arrived in time! As it was she happened upon the scene to see her lover freshly fallen to the earth, an arrow protruding from his chest.
The anguish that issued from her throat was unearthly, and some say it froze her beloved's slayer in his tracks, even as he attempted to flee. Literally froze his heart in his chest. His life ended by she who would have earlier been his prey, for he was the previously mentioned man making good his threat against her husband. Then shifting instantly back to human form she cradled her love's head in her hands, caressing his hair with her fingers and bathing his face with her tears. One last kiss on his cold lips was all she could bear and she had to go. Just get away, as far and as fast as her four legs would carry her!
In another part of the forest, a hunter heard a creature crashing through the forest and moved to intercept it, to see what manner of beast could make such an ungodly wailing, and to put this beast out of its misery. And so it happened that for the second time, My'riad came face to face with a nocked arrow intended to take her life.
"Please, my Lady, do with me what you will, but pray do not harm my babe!" A soft growl rose from My'riad's throat.
With this a smile flickered at the corner of the hunter's mouth and she slowly lowered her bow. "You're not a real unicorn are you."
"No my Lady," My'riad replied with a bow as she shimmered back to her true form, at which time her pregnancy became blatantly clear.
"Fear not precious one. You and your babe are safe now, for you are under my protection."
My'riad, having pushed herself to her already emotionally strained limits, nearly passed out, but her tears turned from grief to relief for she knew that the Huntress Goddess before her was also the Goddess of Childbirth. And so, whether because she was Fae, or because the Goddess of Midwives personally delivered her baby, she had the easiest of labors and was soon holding a beautiful boy child to her breast.
"I know this one," Artemis whispered, gathering the supple deer hide back around a tiny wiggling leg that had escaped the bundle, held by the new mother. "And so do you," She added, looking My'riad in the eye. My'riad balked, then began to cry, for in her babe she recognized the essence of her slain husband.
"And this one," continued the Goddess, wrinkling Her nose and winking at the child, "remembers me, don't you my little wolf?" The baby laughed and waved his arms. "How would you know my son, M'Lady?" "He lived a lifetime, long ago, as one of my children in a forest far from here. A place called Sherwood. And before that he spent time as one of my beloved beasts, the wildest, yet gentlest of creatures -- whose form, by no accident, is one that you know well." She smiled again as She traced a spiral, ever so gently, upon My'riad's forehead.
"Now, Daughter, there is some unfortunate business to attend to." My'riad's heart sank into her stomach. Hadn't she been through enough? "Because your child's blood is partly mortal, he can not be raised among the Fair Folk. His path leads into 'Man's World', where he will be challenged, true, but he will thrive, I promise you. He will bring to human minds and hearts a joy and whimsy born of his faery blood, and a hope they can not understand, yet will they be drawn to it like moths to the flame."
"And fear not for I will watch over him, instilling his heart with a love of the wild and a taste of the Faery Realm, that he may find his way back to his origins. And find his way back he will, for he is now my adopted son. He will be able to track and read the signs."
"What signs?" Demanded My'riad, "I will not give up my only son, even to you, without reason!"
"Calm yourself Daughter. I know of a family whose heritage is very spiritual, overflowing with holy men and women, through the monasteries and churches of Eire..." "Catholics?!" My'riad interrupted, showing her disdain by almost gagging on the word. Artemis continued unfazed, "And their surname is 'Corrigan'. He will gain enough experience and knowledge in his youth to maintain a solid footing in mystical matters, enabling him to make the leap from religion to spirituality. His name will be his first clue as to his true origin, and he will spend his life endeavoring to find that truth."
The Goddess of the Wild smiled pridefully as only a god, who knows of things to be, could.
"Oh yes. He will return."
Since I can remember, I felt like I didn't belong with my family. Even people on the outside would ask how I ended up with them. It never occurred to me that I really might not belong with them until a seed thought was planted in my mind.
At school one day, I don't remember what grade I was in, another student's dad saw me and said, incidentally, "Corrigan. That's another name for the little people." The full importance of that statement, and the hidden meaning of my last name, didn't hit me at first, but the seed began to grow over many years.
As I outgrew my childhood beliefs and structures, and my world developed and expanded beyond the accepted boundaries of my up-bringing, and my family, these fish-out-of-water feelings only increased, and most of the time, even in my own mind, it was me who was, at best, weird, at worst, wrong.
But as my world grew and began to include ever expanding possibilities of various dimensions and parallel worlds, inevitably I became introduced to the realm of Faerie. Granted it started slowly with "wouldn't it be cool if...", fueled by images of the Cottingly Fairies and the like, but it has blossomed into, not only a full-on belief, but a complete knowingness of the existence of the Wee Folk. Actually to the point of missing the little blue sparkly flashes of light, seen out of the corner of my eye, when my apartment faeries are being, perhaps, a little too quiet.
Even from the beginnings of my forays into Faery, that statement of my last name being ‘another word for the little people’ never left me. So you can just imagine my delight at the point where I discovered a dictionary of the faery folk, and verified the truth of that statement. Perhaps ‘delight’ is not the proper word. More of an Oh-my-god-and-holy-crap-it's-true-dumb-founded recognition of another cosmic puzzle piece falling into place . Yes. Quite delightful.
I believe it was at that point that the seed began to germinate, and a story began to form in the back of my mind as to my true origins. I had read about 'star children' and the different indicators, most of which I fit, that would suggest you were an alien born into a human body. Yet that didn't quite sit right with me. I felt too connected to the earth to be from somewhere else. But, were I changeling, a faery baby switched at birth with a human baby, that just felt so much more plausible!
None of my research into Corrigans, or Korrigans, contradicted my story, but rather fueled my excited imagination. The Corrigan originate mostly from Brittany, and are the type that appear as human women, who sit by pools of water, alone or sometimes in groups up to nine, combing their long hair in the moonlight. During the day, though, they take on the appearance of old hags. They are also shape-shifters, able to change into any creature they want.
Now I hadn't meant to recount the whole story here, just give bits and pieces and highlights as I had them figured out. However, when I began writing, things just started to flow and, before I knew it, I had what follows. With all of that in mind, this is the story as I've reconstructed it so far... (*Ahem!*)
Once upon a time, there was a magickal pool, and around this pool sat nine sisters. At least they sat around the pool at night, combing their long, glorious hair that shimmered in the moonlight, because that was when they appeared beautiful and young. During the day they stayed out of sight for in the sunlight they had the appearance of old, wrinkled crones. This was slightly offset by their ability to change into any creature they desired.
One of the sisters, My'riad, wishing to be alone one day, assumed her favorite shape, that of a unicorn, and wandered out into the sun dappled forest. So lost in the beauty of the woods was she that, not until the snapping of a twig brought her back to the present, did she realize she was not alone.
In a single instant, she saw the arrow pointed at her, saw it loosed from it's string, saw a hand strike the bow, and watched the arrow whistle harmlessly into the under brush beside where she stood. Without thought she fled, disappearing into the trees, but, as is the habit of most curious wild creatures, she circled back around to investigate what had, just moments ago, threatened her very life. What she saw was two men, one of whom was red in the face from screaming at the other man, "Bastard! You cost me a unicorn! I could have been set up for life! How dare you interfere with my shot! If I see you again you will pay with your life!" And the man stomped, very noisily, off into the woods.
The other man stood silently for a moment, watching where the first man had gone, then without turning his head, he said quietly, "You're not a real unicorn are you." The only answer was a gasp as the faery woman's, currently fuzzy, chin dropped and her eyes widened in shock. Who was this man who not only sensed her presence, but that she wasn't who she appeared to be? He turned toward her, reaching out an inviting hand and an even more inviting smile. Darkness had begun to fall so she allowed herself to slip back into her human form -- her beautiful, young human form -- and slip her hand softly into his. There was a rush of energy as they touched and, beneath the splendor of the rising moon, they kissed for the first time.
They kissed many more times that night, among other things I can not mention without having to tag this blog as unsuitable for minors, and as the first rays of the sun began to break across the horizon, he whispered softly in her ear, "I know who you are, and I release you." Her mind reeled as she was overcome at this, for this is the only way a Corrigan may become, and remain, young and beautiful -- A human man who loves her enough to allow her to be who she is. A joy she had not known washed over her, coupled with the certain knowledge that a miracle had been conceived within her.
My'riad returned with him to his cottage in the woods where they lived happily together for some time, and her belly continued to swell. One evening, though, her husband did not return from his hunt. Her concern grew and she set out in search of him, again taking the unicorn's shape, as four legs could carry her more swiftly than two. Oh! If only she had had six, perhaps she would have arrived in time! As it was she happened upon the scene to see her lover freshly fallen to the earth, an arrow protruding from his chest.
The anguish that issued from her throat was unearthly, and some say it froze her beloved's slayer in his tracks, even as he attempted to flee. Literally froze his heart in his chest. His life ended by she who would have earlier been his prey, for he was the previously mentioned man making good his threat against her husband. Then shifting instantly back to human form she cradled her love's head in her hands, caressing his hair with her fingers and bathing his face with her tears. One last kiss on his cold lips was all she could bear and she had to go. Just get away, as far and as fast as her four legs would carry her!
In another part of the forest, a hunter heard a creature crashing through the forest and moved to intercept it, to see what manner of beast could make such an ungodly wailing, and to put this beast out of its misery. And so it happened that for the second time, My'riad came face to face with a nocked arrow intended to take her life.
"Please, my Lady, do with me what you will, but pray do not harm my babe!" A soft growl rose from My'riad's throat.
With this a smile flickered at the corner of the hunter's mouth and she slowly lowered her bow. "You're not a real unicorn are you."
"No my Lady," My'riad replied with a bow as she shimmered back to her true form, at which time her pregnancy became blatantly clear.
"Fear not precious one. You and your babe are safe now, for you are under my protection."
My'riad, having pushed herself to her already emotionally strained limits, nearly passed out, but her tears turned from grief to relief for she knew that the Huntress Goddess before her was also the Goddess of Childbirth. And so, whether because she was Fae, or because the Goddess of Midwives personally delivered her baby, she had the easiest of labors and was soon holding a beautiful boy child to her breast.
"I know this one," Artemis whispered, gathering the supple deer hide back around a tiny wiggling leg that had escaped the bundle, held by the new mother. "And so do you," She added, looking My'riad in the eye. My'riad balked, then began to cry, for in her babe she recognized the essence of her slain husband.
"And this one," continued the Goddess, wrinkling Her nose and winking at the child, "remembers me, don't you my little wolf?" The baby laughed and waved his arms. "How would you know my son, M'Lady?" "He lived a lifetime, long ago, as one of my children in a forest far from here. A place called Sherwood. And before that he spent time as one of my beloved beasts, the wildest, yet gentlest of creatures -- whose form, by no accident, is one that you know well." She smiled again as She traced a spiral, ever so gently, upon My'riad's forehead.
"Now, Daughter, there is some unfortunate business to attend to." My'riad's heart sank into her stomach. Hadn't she been through enough? "Because your child's blood is partly mortal, he can not be raised among the Fair Folk. His path leads into 'Man's World', where he will be challenged, true, but he will thrive, I promise you. He will bring to human minds and hearts a joy and whimsy born of his faery blood, and a hope they can not understand, yet will they be drawn to it like moths to the flame."
"And fear not for I will watch over him, instilling his heart with a love of the wild and a taste of the Faery Realm, that he may find his way back to his origins. And find his way back he will, for he is now my adopted son. He will be able to track and read the signs."
"What signs?" Demanded My'riad, "I will not give up my only son, even to you, without reason!"
"Calm yourself Daughter. I know of a family whose heritage is very spiritual, overflowing with holy men and women, through the monasteries and churches of Eire..." "Catholics?!" My'riad interrupted, showing her disdain by almost gagging on the word. Artemis continued unfazed, "And their surname is 'Corrigan'. He will gain enough experience and knowledge in his youth to maintain a solid footing in mystical matters, enabling him to make the leap from religion to spirituality. His name will be his first clue as to his true origin, and he will spend his life endeavoring to find that truth."
The Goddess of the Wild smiled pridefully as only a god, who knows of things to be, could.
"Oh yes. He will return."
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Wrong Way Corrigan
Friday after work I had a few things on my mind, some recent emotional challenges which, because they involve other people, I won't go into detail about, but I decided a walk in Nature was the best prescription for clearing my mind, grounding, and returning to the present. Fortunately, just down the road from where I live is a wonderful park that helps me do that.
So I went to my beloved little park, which I hadn't visited for some time, and discovered that because of some very active Eagle Scouts in the area, it wasn't quite as little as I remembered it. There were new trails leading off into woods and parts of the area previously unreachable, so with some excitement and great gratitude I headed off to explore.
What a gift! You know when you're playing a video game, and there's an area that is tantalizingly right there but the way is blocked until you unlock some clue, or attain some object, or play a special tune on your ocarina? That's how it felt. Like something had suddenly fallen into place and suddenly I was allowed access into this grand and glorious part of the map that I could previously only marvel about.
So I wandered, and when I had gotten a ways I realized it was getting late and I'd better head back. I looked around and saw a path branching off of the one I was on in the direction I thought I needed to go, so rather than retrace my steps I followed this trail. I followed it up to the top of a hill where I found I was not too far away from a barn. Huh. And cows. Hmm... "Holy crap! That's the farm I look at from the other side of the lake!" I was not where I thought I was. In fact I was on the opposite side of the lake from where I wanted to be. And it would be dark soon.
In such circumstances, what is the first choice of someone who was raised on the stories of Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone? Head across country of course! I was on a hill, so I could plainly see where it was I wanted to go, and from that vantage it looked easy enough to make a straight line from here to there.
I traded the big trail for a tiny deer trail meandering down the hill through the tall grasses, the whole time praying to the spirits of the land my intentions to do no harm and my gratitude for allowing me to be there. Meanwhile the grasses gave way to thicker and thicker underbrush, including the occasional black berry vine, until at some point I had to stop. The further I went in the harder the way got, and I realized that if I went any further I would be causing damage because I was starting to become desperate and wanting to flail my way through.
When I paused I realized I was still doing what has been ingrained into most of us, that when things get hard you just fight harder to get through. In my determination to get where I was going, or where I thought I should be, I was starting to not care so much about how I got there or the destruction I caused on the way. D'oh!
I turned around and retraced my steps, as best I could, until I finally emerged once again onto the main trail. As I walked, unencumbered on the gravel trail, I kept reminding myself of the Taoism I purport to hold so close to my heart, and it's "water course way" -- the path of least resistance. In Nature, when there are road blocks, it tends to mean you are going the wrong way. You're pushing rather than allowing the natural flow of life. Albeit there are road blocks that are meant to be broken down for our personal and spiritual growth, but if every step is more difficult than the last, and if the undergrowth is pulling at your feet while the overgrowth is pulling at your hair, there's probably a better way to get where you are going.
As I was thinking these things, I stopped and almost laughed out loud. On the trail ahead of me was a single slug, one of my power animals, my own Taoist Master who's message to me is always about the "unhurried life" (read my post Tao of Slug).
I was still musing about Slug, when I rounded a corner in the woods and came face to face with a dog. A big dog. Uncharacteristically of me, I froze. I talked to the dog, but not in the playful, "How you doin' pup dawg?" way I normally do. Moments later the dog's human came around the other corner in the trees and both me and the dog relaxed, she running up to me with tail wagging. The dog not the human.
As I played with the dog, I greeted the woman who asked how I was. I replied "fine," then returned her question. "Okay," she started, then, "Well, not really..." And she went into how she had just found out that day that her dad has an aggressive form of prostate cancer, and everything she was going through concerning that. I just stood there listening until she apologized for too much sharing to a complete stranger. "Not at all," I said, and told her how I just found out a favorite aunt of mine was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and didn't have long to live. And though I didn't say it, in my thoughts I added, "This is what I do. This is the shamanic path I am on. Being in the right place at the right time to be of service to whomever needs it."
I asked if I could give her a hug, and she paused but a moment before saying, "Sure." I hugged her, felt her sigh, and then she said, "That is really nice."
I realized that sometimes the wrong way is the right way. If I hadn't gone and gotten myself lost and tangled in the woods, I would not have received the lesson (again) about the watercourse way, and I would not have been here, at this point in time and space, comforting this woman.
After the hug, we said our good-byes, and I walked away from this healing encounter with a smile of gratitude on my lips for the magnificent orchestration of the Universe to make such unlikely things possible, and for allowing me to be part of such miracles.
And into my head popped the thought, "Because that's what unicorns do."
So I went to my beloved little park, which I hadn't visited for some time, and discovered that because of some very active Eagle Scouts in the area, it wasn't quite as little as I remembered it. There were new trails leading off into woods and parts of the area previously unreachable, so with some excitement and great gratitude I headed off to explore.
What a gift! You know when you're playing a video game, and there's an area that is tantalizingly right there but the way is blocked until you unlock some clue, or attain some object, or play a special tune on your ocarina? That's how it felt. Like something had suddenly fallen into place and suddenly I was allowed access into this grand and glorious part of the map that I could previously only marvel about.
So I wandered, and when I had gotten a ways I realized it was getting late and I'd better head back. I looked around and saw a path branching off of the one I was on in the direction I thought I needed to go, so rather than retrace my steps I followed this trail. I followed it up to the top of a hill where I found I was not too far away from a barn. Huh. And cows. Hmm... "Holy crap! That's the farm I look at from the other side of the lake!" I was not where I thought I was. In fact I was on the opposite side of the lake from where I wanted to be. And it would be dark soon.
In such circumstances, what is the first choice of someone who was raised on the stories of Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone? Head across country of course! I was on a hill, so I could plainly see where it was I wanted to go, and from that vantage it looked easy enough to make a straight line from here to there.
I traded the big trail for a tiny deer trail meandering down the hill through the tall grasses, the whole time praying to the spirits of the land my intentions to do no harm and my gratitude for allowing me to be there. Meanwhile the grasses gave way to thicker and thicker underbrush, including the occasional black berry vine, until at some point I had to stop. The further I went in the harder the way got, and I realized that if I went any further I would be causing damage because I was starting to become desperate and wanting to flail my way through.
When I paused I realized I was still doing what has been ingrained into most of us, that when things get hard you just fight harder to get through. In my determination to get where I was going, or where I thought I should be, I was starting to not care so much about how I got there or the destruction I caused on the way. D'oh!
I turned around and retraced my steps, as best I could, until I finally emerged once again onto the main trail. As I walked, unencumbered on the gravel trail, I kept reminding myself of the Taoism I purport to hold so close to my heart, and it's "water course way" -- the path of least resistance. In Nature, when there are road blocks, it tends to mean you are going the wrong way. You're pushing rather than allowing the natural flow of life. Albeit there are road blocks that are meant to be broken down for our personal and spiritual growth, but if every step is more difficult than the last, and if the undergrowth is pulling at your feet while the overgrowth is pulling at your hair, there's probably a better way to get where you are going.
As I was thinking these things, I stopped and almost laughed out loud. On the trail ahead of me was a single slug, one of my power animals, my own Taoist Master who's message to me is always about the "unhurried life" (read my post Tao of Slug).
I was still musing about Slug, when I rounded a corner in the woods and came face to face with a dog. A big dog. Uncharacteristically of me, I froze. I talked to the dog, but not in the playful, "How you doin' pup dawg?" way I normally do. Moments later the dog's human came around the other corner in the trees and both me and the dog relaxed, she running up to me with tail wagging. The dog not the human.
As I played with the dog, I greeted the woman who asked how I was. I replied "fine," then returned her question. "Okay," she started, then, "Well, not really..." And she went into how she had just found out that day that her dad has an aggressive form of prostate cancer, and everything she was going through concerning that. I just stood there listening until she apologized for too much sharing to a complete stranger. "Not at all," I said, and told her how I just found out a favorite aunt of mine was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and didn't have long to live. And though I didn't say it, in my thoughts I added, "This is what I do. This is the shamanic path I am on. Being in the right place at the right time to be of service to whomever needs it."
I asked if I could give her a hug, and she paused but a moment before saying, "Sure." I hugged her, felt her sigh, and then she said, "That is really nice."
I realized that sometimes the wrong way is the right way. If I hadn't gone and gotten myself lost and tangled in the woods, I would not have received the lesson (again) about the watercourse way, and I would not have been here, at this point in time and space, comforting this woman.
After the hug, we said our good-byes, and I walked away from this healing encounter with a smile of gratitude on my lips for the magnificent orchestration of the Universe to make such unlikely things possible, and for allowing me to be part of such miracles.
And into my head popped the thought, "Because that's what unicorns do."
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
...Hidden Dragon
Last week at my day job, I was in a part of the warehouse where the walls are lined with windows. So when I heard a sort of buzzing flutter, I turned around to see what manner of fly was trying to get out and what I could do to aid its escape. I was surprised to find a dragonfly. It wasn't the dragonfly itself that surprised me, but the fact that it was actually on the floor.
I moved forward to try to catch and escort him out the door to safety, and my movement caused him to start buzzing his wings furiously. I watched him lift about 6 inches off the floor, then watched in shock as he flipped over on his back, falling back to the ground, fluttering helplessly as he tried to right himself.
"What the --? Poor thing!" I easily caught the little guy, afraid that I would discover a missing or injured wing. Nope. He was totally intact. But, the ends of his wings were covered in thin layers of cobwebs and dust. "Poor thing!" I uttered again.
I held him in a loosely closed hand to keep him secure but unharmed, and with the other hand I gently peeled the sticky mass from each wing, whispering my good intentions to him the whole time. At first I was afraid of injuring him, but he was big enough that I was able to clean his wings without dislodging them.
Eventually he was good as new and I walked him out the back of the warehouse where I bid him good-bye and opened my hand. Upon release he took off and my heart soared with him! Booya! Then a second later it sank into my stomach as I watched him drop. Booya denied! But he fell for just a moment before buzzing up and over a wall and out of sight! Booya reinstated!
As I snuck back into the warehouse, avoiding any unwelcomed, uptight, managerial glances, I was pondering the lesson in this little ecounter. According to the Medicine Cards, Dragonfly represents illusion. The story goes that once upon a time Dragonfly was actually a dragon -- a very arrogant beast who was costantly bragging about his might and power and magick. One day Coyote, tired of this endless stream of boasts, approached Dragon and said, "You're not that powerful. I bet you can't make yourself this big..." indicating a very small span with a couple of claws. "Pfff!! As if!" laughed the dragon, and he proceeded to turn himself into a dragonfly. The thing is that, once in this smaller form, he forgot how mighty and powerful he was, falling for and trapping himself by his own illusion.
"So," I wondered. "How am I trapping myself in the illusion of smallness and powerlessness?" I looked around the warehouse -- "Hmmm!..." "And how," I thought, thinking of my little four-winged friend, "Am I allowing my wings to be covered by the muck of this world, preventing my grandiose dragon-self from flying free as I am meant to?"
I moved forward to try to catch and escort him out the door to safety, and my movement caused him to start buzzing his wings furiously. I watched him lift about 6 inches off the floor, then watched in shock as he flipped over on his back, falling back to the ground, fluttering helplessly as he tried to right himself.
"What the --? Poor thing!" I easily caught the little guy, afraid that I would discover a missing or injured wing. Nope. He was totally intact. But, the ends of his wings were covered in thin layers of cobwebs and dust. "Poor thing!" I uttered again.
I held him in a loosely closed hand to keep him secure but unharmed, and with the other hand I gently peeled the sticky mass from each wing, whispering my good intentions to him the whole time. At first I was afraid of injuring him, but he was big enough that I was able to clean his wings without dislodging them.
Eventually he was good as new and I walked him out the back of the warehouse where I bid him good-bye and opened my hand. Upon release he took off and my heart soared with him! Booya! Then a second later it sank into my stomach as I watched him drop. Booya denied! But he fell for just a moment before buzzing up and over a wall and out of sight! Booya reinstated!
As I snuck back into the warehouse, avoiding any unwelcomed, uptight, managerial glances, I was pondering the lesson in this little ecounter. According to the Medicine Cards, Dragonfly represents illusion. The story goes that once upon a time Dragonfly was actually a dragon -- a very arrogant beast who was costantly bragging about his might and power and magick. One day Coyote, tired of this endless stream of boasts, approached Dragon and said, "You're not that powerful. I bet you can't make yourself this big..." indicating a very small span with a couple of claws. "Pfff!! As if!" laughed the dragon, and he proceeded to turn himself into a dragonfly. The thing is that, once in this smaller form, he forgot how mighty and powerful he was, falling for and trapping himself by his own illusion.
"So," I wondered. "How am I trapping myself in the illusion of smallness and powerlessness?" I looked around the warehouse -- "Hmmm!..." "And how," I thought, thinking of my little four-winged friend, "Am I allowing my wings to be covered by the muck of this world, preventing my grandiose dragon-self from flying free as I am meant to?"
Monday, October 4, 2010
As The Wheel Turns
So I have not been writing a lot in my blog recently, and while it may seem like it's because there's nothing going on, it is actually the opposite case; Not that I don't have anything to write about, but that things are happening and changing at such a rate that I can't keep up, and I get overwhelmed at all the things I want to write -- resulting in nothing getting written.
Aside from my self-judgements concerning this, I have to admit to still knowing that everything is happening as it needs to, in perfect timing and expression. This is not a new pattern for me, nor is it to be unexpected at this time of the year. We have passed summer with it's bustling activity, and I'm still carrying much of that frenetic energy with me, but he wheel of the year has turned toward the dark half of the year -- the time of quieting outer expressions to turn inward toward deeper introspection and contemplation. It is the time of the year when Bear returns to the cave, the womb of the Earth Mother, to sleep and dream, releasing the Summer and dreaming of Spring and all the good things she wants to see bloom.
In fact an interesting fact is that I started blogging just over a year ago with a private blog named Embracing Bear, Dreaming With Dark Mother based on just that subject as a means to juornal and sort things out.
And so I am slowing down -- not making as many commitments, and allowing others to run out. The only things on my regular schedule is my new weekly shamanic class, and doing Medicine Card readings the 2nd and 4th Saturdays at Soul Food Books in Redmond (sorry about the plug... :)). Other than that I plan on coming home after work, or keeping my weekends open, for more down time and the chance to reconnect with myself.
It suddenly occurred to me that I've not been getting any art done, as I run from one project to the next or to card reading gigs, and that it's not going to get done unless I schedule it -- unless I allow a space of time to actually do it. And so I am working down my Artistic To Do list and purposely planning a different project every night or day.
And I'm scheduling in "couch" days -- days on the weekend when I do nothing but lay on the couch all day snoozing and watching DVDs. In a recent psychic reading I received, one of the things she told me was not to undervalue these times. As I've already discovered, I need that space and time to maintain my sanity, and it is absolutely necessary for me to replenish my waning resources, particularly at this time of the year as night time out distances the day light. It is in the dark that the seed grows, that the wound is healed, that our ancestors lean closer. It is dreams in the dark of Winter that give birth to the light of Spring.
It has been an interesting trip around the sun, and by the look of things, life is about to get even more interesting on this turn of the wheel. We can only wait and see...
To the Bat Cave, Robin!!
Aside from my self-judgements concerning this, I have to admit to still knowing that everything is happening as it needs to, in perfect timing and expression. This is not a new pattern for me, nor is it to be unexpected at this time of the year. We have passed summer with it's bustling activity, and I'm still carrying much of that frenetic energy with me, but he wheel of the year has turned toward the dark half of the year -- the time of quieting outer expressions to turn inward toward deeper introspection and contemplation. It is the time of the year when Bear returns to the cave, the womb of the Earth Mother, to sleep and dream, releasing the Summer and dreaming of Spring and all the good things she wants to see bloom.
In fact an interesting fact is that I started blogging just over a year ago with a private blog named Embracing Bear, Dreaming With Dark Mother based on just that subject as a means to juornal and sort things out.
And so I am slowing down -- not making as many commitments, and allowing others to run out. The only things on my regular schedule is my new weekly shamanic class, and doing Medicine Card readings the 2nd and 4th Saturdays at Soul Food Books in Redmond (sorry about the plug... :)). Other than that I plan on coming home after work, or keeping my weekends open, for more down time and the chance to reconnect with myself.
It suddenly occurred to me that I've not been getting any art done, as I run from one project to the next or to card reading gigs, and that it's not going to get done unless I schedule it -- unless I allow a space of time to actually do it. And so I am working down my Artistic To Do list and purposely planning a different project every night or day.
And I'm scheduling in "couch" days -- days on the weekend when I do nothing but lay on the couch all day snoozing and watching DVDs. In a recent psychic reading I received, one of the things she told me was not to undervalue these times. As I've already discovered, I need that space and time to maintain my sanity, and it is absolutely necessary for me to replenish my waning resources, particularly at this time of the year as night time out distances the day light. It is in the dark that the seed grows, that the wound is healed, that our ancestors lean closer. It is dreams in the dark of Winter that give birth to the light of Spring.
It has been an interesting trip around the sun, and by the look of things, life is about to get even more interesting on this turn of the wheel. We can only wait and see...
To the Bat Cave, Robin!!
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