Love Me Tender

A few weekends ago I had the opportunity to act as a fire tender for a sweat lodge my friend was pouring. For those who are not familiar with lodges, the Pourer is the person who pours the water on the hot stones after they've been placed in the lodge and the door has been closed. The Fire Tender is the one (or more persons) who starts and tends the fire that heats the stones, then puts the stones into the lodge at the beginning of each of the four 'rounds.'

Anyway, my friend has been doing a series of lodges as she becomes more confident in her abilities to pour -- which entails a lot more than just splashing water on hot rocks! -- and I've been helping with the fire. The funny thing is that for awhile I'd been getting guidance not to go into the lodges, hence staying on the outside to help with the fire. Then a couple lodges ago, when I decided I would go in, my friend got the guidance that they would be women's lodges. Hence my still being on the outside with the fire.

This time, however, was the first time I was in charge of the tending rather than just helping out. I guess I lost my 'tender foot' status for being fire tender (hee-hee! Sorry... Boy Scout humor.).

The lodge itself was on a Sunday and, seeing as I was reading Medicine Cards at a book store that was more than half way to my friend's property that Saturday, I just headed up and stayed over the night before. Another friend was already there, and I instantly knew this was going to be an interesting lodge because she could not stop laughing. Coyote, the Native Americans' trickster spirit, is very much present at these particular lodges, and judging by my friend's, very contagious, state I could tell that Coyote had arrived early.

The next day our spirits were generally similar, and I couldn't stop punning. I also couldn't stop singing. Any thing anyone said would elicit a song rising from my lips -- Everything from Captain & Tennille and The Carpenters to Johnny Cash ("Love is a burning thing/And it makes a fiery ring..."). It was a Sweat La-la-lodge!

Silliness aside, it was a very good learning experience in listening to my intuition, as well as to the spirits who were co-creating this ceremony with us. Going to the wood pile, I listened to see which of the spirits of the logs wished to be part of this event, particularly the eight flat logs that form a table at the base of the the impending flamage, where the stones (in this case 30 of them) get stacked up to have the fire built around them. And helping to pick which stones from the rock pile, I got to listen to which stone spirits were basically jumping up and down going, "Me! Me! Me! Me!"

And in actually stacking the stones it takes a lot of listening and paying attention, but as I held each stone I had gathered, I knew exactly where to place it. It was remarkable to me that we were stacking 30 lava rocks, each at least the size of a cantaloupe, yet had no trouble keeping the growing mound from tumbling. Next came a row of smaller logs standing on end and encircling the aforementioned mound, with a mix of smaller kindling and paper, and a final row of small logs on top of the bottom row which formed the roof of our wooden dome -- all done with mindfulness and with awareness of the beings I was working with. I asked permission of every log I placed around the stones, and interestingly enough, the answer was not always, "Yes."

So flash forward to the roaring fire. While the others are off making their prayer ties and changing into their lodge clothes, I stand my post, nudging the fire here, adding a log there -- but only after asking permission. "Can I put another log on?" "Not yet."

As a kid we used to camp, pretty much every weekend in the summer time, and we always had a fire. Most of the time I was the one making it and then my entire family would sit around, each of us with our own personal 'poking stick,' and we would take turns poking the fire -- so I learned at an early age the interplay and dance between fire, air, and wood. And now as I listened to the fire spirits, I realized I'd always heard them. I was doing the same thing as I always did -- watching the fire and suddenly getting an intuitive tug, "Oh, a log in that position would be good" or "That log needs to be stood upright to allow more air flow" -- like fitting pieces of a puzzle together and the feeling of completion when something finds its rightful place. And there were times I couldn't help laughing because, as soon as I would jockey the wood around, the wind would always pick up, as if someone had just worked the bellows to breathe new life into the embers.

And when the time to begin the lodge drew near, the stones literally began rolling out of the fire, as if to say, "Okay! We're ready! Let's get this show on the road!" And, on the other hand, when it became time to carry the stones into the lodge, there were certain stones that, no matter how much I tried, refused to stay on the pitchfork -- some of them actually rolling back into the fire. "I'm not ready yet!"

As with most things, it is not the major light show that most people might expect or desire, but it really is that small, still voice within. A voice so subtle it is easy to miss, and which takes a lot of practice to hear again after having it trained out of us.

When the lodge was complete, and we had finished the potluck feast that followed, I was sitting on the couch opposite of where my friend was sitting, and she suddenly looked at me and asked, "Did you burn a hole in your jeans?!" I looked and didn't see anything until she pointed down to the bottom of my pant leg. "Holy crap!"

There was a perfectly round hole burned through my jeans! I hadn't felt a thing, and the boots I had worn underneath bore no marks. Yet I had been unmistakably branded. I just smiled and thanked Brigit, the Celtic fire goddess under whose tutelage I currently find myself, because I took it as a badge of honor. A kiss of the Fire spirits. I had passed my initian, been accepted, and was now officially a fire tender.

Tomorrow I will tend fire again for a lodge my friend will pour, but just as I feel I'm getting the swing of things, I'm being moved beyond my comfort zones. This time we'll be at a lodge I've never been to, with some people I've never met and who have been brought up with the particulars of certain traditions. Yoiks! There will, however, be many friends there as well, and my focus will be supporting my friend in her first pouring outside her own lodge, as well as supporting another friend who will be sweating in preparation of her up coming vision quest.

As long as I remember that, and not worry about doing right or wrong in other peoples' eyes, I'll be fine. Well, actually I'll be fine no matter what happens. :)

Oh Bouy!

I was driving to work Friday morning and began talking to Artemis. I've been slowly surfacing from a small emotional nose-dive last weekend, and though I have been steadily feeling better every day, it still felt like there were shreds of heaviness clinging to me. I wanted to know what was going on and why these feelings were still lingering while I was regaining my normal, positive and hopeful attitude.


"Beloved," Artemis whispered into my mind with a smile, "You have already won. The shadows are falling around you. Let them go. Don't give up, just surrender. You are doing well. Very well."

It reminded me of something I'd heard a long time ago about the soul being like a beach ball (I more recently heard Abraham Hicks (LOVE him!!!) use the same analogy, only with a cork) and no matter how hard you try to hold it underwater, it always, sooner or later, bobs up to the surface. A lot of effort and energy get expended, and cumulatively so, to hold it down for any period of time. Like our souls, it knows where it belongs, what its essence is (air), and it is a letting go and surrendering that allows it to return to it's source. It actually takes more effort to maintain our belief in what we aren't, in the darkness and seeming evil of the world and our own unworthiness, than to let go and allow our true selves to carry us naturally to our true being.

One day at work, after having just heard Abraham's analogy of the cork, I was feeling kind of down and heavy. Suddenly I realized that I was feeling like that because I was actually holding on to the uncomfortableness, and just as if it was a large stone I was holding onto under water, it kept me from surfacing into my true essence. By consciously over riding the programming of society and the identities we cling to in this world of dichotomy, my mood lifted significantly. Just like that. Holy crap! It's the old saying of being in the world but not of it.

Of course I continually forget about that, and when I'm in those heavy dark places it's harder to muster the belief that such a thing is possible. But during this entire Winter that has been a significant lesson for me, especially as I got more familiar with my Pelican spirit guide, Meryl. Pelican Medicine is exactly the whole beach ball/cork thing. She allows us to dive into the depths, but we never get too deep, and it's inevitable that we resurface. Buoyancy!

And so with Artemis' message I remember, even when the darkness is still hanging around, the darkness is not who I am. Neither is it evil. It is a necessary part of life for growth (and a very appropriate subject as Spring arrives and the goddess Persephone returns to the surface world from her 6 month stay in the Underworld.) like the seed growing in the darkness of the soil before blooming full force into the sunlight.

And so my Pelican/beach ball/Persephone soul again remembers its essence and lets go of the illusions it had mistaken for its own identity, as I rise buoyantly back into the light, joy, and spirit which I truly am.

Thank you dear, wise Artemis.

The Owl And The Pussy Cat

I got a text early last Saturday morning before I even got out of bed. A friend was going to have to put her cat down that afternoon and wondered if I could be there. My first knee-jerk reaction was, "of course I'd be there," and mentally I started canceling all the plans I'd made for the day. That's what I do, or one of the things I do -- I've mentioned before my knack for helping animals pass over. I also try to always be there with at least a hug for my friends. But before I answered, I paused to check my feelings, to tune in to my inner barometer, to see what my heart said. I was still in bed for a reason -- I was exhausted. Just the day before my emotions had taken an unexpected nose dive -- a cumulative effect of a number of things, including a number of deaths. I was in no shape to be there for someone else when I felt like a shell of a person myself. And the plans I'd made were to spend some much needed time with some friends that I don't get to see too often anymore, to work on art and be creative -- a totally nurturing day for me. As much as I really wanted to be there I had to take care of myself and say no. As it turns out, my friend said she thought she needed to go through this alone anyway because, otherwise all her friends would not already have been busy.

I assured her that, though I wouldn't be there physically, I would support her, even send her hugs, energetically and I would be there for her kitty, Lioness, to help her pass. I lingered a bit longer in bed, connecting with my friend and Lioness to send energy to them, then asked my reiki helpers to continue the flow of energy to them as I got on with my day. I breakfasted, showered, gathered my stuff, then headed up to my other friend's studio as planned, sending my first friend an extra boost of light and love whenever the thought of her flickered across my consciousness.

I had only been to the art studio once before and, as it happens, the second time I was just as successful in missing my turn onto the correct road as the first. I swung into the same little Park & Ride to turn around as I did the first time, only this time I stopped. I looked at the clock. It was mere minutes before Lioness was scheduled to be put under.

I turned off my car, pulled my legs up beneath me in a half-lotus position, and closed my eyes. Almost instantly I connected with Lioness and, as happens frequently (in my experience) she was not totally in her body, kind of coming and going, yet I heard her long steady purr the entire time. Then I saw her spirit sit up straight to her full height, majestically living up to her namesake. I sensed that she had not quite passed yet, but that this was her way of facing the end with the regalness and poise that one as dignified as she embodied.

There was a shift and I suddenly saw her head, from the side, right up close in front of me. She looked at me and meowed a thank you. Then she turned, as a portal of light opened and expanded in the distance, and transforming into an owl, she flew into the light. It was probably one of the most amazing things I have ever beheld! What a privilege and honor to witness such an event!

I thought back to my dreams the night before, realizing that, though I didn't remember details, they had definitely involved owls. Apparently I'd already started working with her. The odd thing too is that the first time I met Lioness, my first thought was, "Being a cat was not her first choice." And when I recounted this whole story to my friend, her reaction was something like, "She had such sad eyes -- like an owl's!"

So whatever form you take, Lioness, it was a pleasure to know you and be part of your life. Thank you for allowing me to be there at your passing. Farewell and I wish you always safe journeys. You will be missed. Owl's well.