First Class

I'm part of a newly formed group, Seattle Shamanic Teacher's Collective, whose objective is for one of us to be teaching an Introduction to Shamanic Journey class somewhere in the Seattle area once a month.  Last Saturday was my turn, and my first shamanic teaching gig ever.  Well, there was the talk I did a Summer or two ago when I was working a psychic fair, where all readers had to give a 15-20 minute talk, and I spoke about Animal Spirit Guides and led a guided meditation for people to find an animal guide.  That was a great warm up for this latest experience.  And like that time, as the magick moment approached I found myself more excited than nervous -- at least until the last minute.

Like I mentioned in an earlier post, teaching is one of the careers I day dreamed about doing when I was a kid (and now the only one left I haven't really done yet is acting -- not counting being the Little Drummer Boy in Fourth grade -- though I do have ideas about how to introduce puppets into my classes for children...), so rather than being a huge stretch into unknown territory, it felt more like stepping into a space that was waiting for me -- stepping into another aspect of my own power.  I was born to do this.  And it seemed a natural next step for me. 

A little over two and a half years ago I went on a vision quest, and in the middle of it White Buffalo Calf Woman appeared to me (actually for the 2nd time) and she told me, "Your path is to be shared."  Shortly afterwards I began this blog to follow through with that Divine request and to share my path.  And now comes the opportunity to share my path in a new way.  It just felt perfect.

So as the date approached a niggling voice in the back of my head started whispering in my ear, saying I wasn't prepared enough.  I still needed to study up, make lots of notes to read from, etc, etc, etc.  Though I was still very excited, the nerves started gaining strength and I started wondering if I really was prepared.  Finally, the night before my debut I sat down with an outline given to me from another teacher, intending to write my own outline and notes to make sure I was covered, and to make sure it was worth my student's time.  But as I looked over the outline, all I could picture was myself in front of the class lifelessly reading off the notes -- "Bueller? Bueller?" Talk about wasting my student's time!  They might as well read a book.  No, this was not a high school book report.  This was a subject I was passionate about, a passion I wished to pass on and inspire others with.  My goal was to empower the attendees, not bore them within an inch of their lives.

At a loss for what more to do in order to get ready, I decided to journey to Hortance, the spirit guide who recently introduced himself as my teaching guide (see my post Teacher's Pet) to get his insight.  When I asked my question of him he walked up to me and placed his wing on my heart.  Two and a half years ago,on that same aforementioned vision quest, amidst the chanting of the stone people in the sweat lodge as the first rays of daylight began to warm my shivering form, the spirits whispered my name in my ear, and now my owl invoked that name, saying to me, "Speaks His Heart must speak his heart.  Trust your experience.  Trust your knowledge.  You will know what to say."

For the first time I was also made to realize what a significant step this was.  This simple, seemingly
insignificant two hour class was nothing short of a full-blown initiation, another death/rebirth, a letting go of everything I'd been taught up to this point and stepping into the unknown where things, and I, would never be the same again.

Along with this epiphany came a mini movie and I watched this man (Me?!) walking toward a cliff.  He had this heavy pack on his back.  Though I didn't see anyone else there, a voice asked, "Would you set aside everything you've ever been told, or believed about yourself, if someone told you that by doing so you could fly?"  Without hesitation the man laid down this ever increasingly heavy pack, in which he carried all his misconceptions and misperceptions of himself, and turning, stepped one foot of the cliff and with the other lightly pushed off the ledge, as if casting off a canoe, floating in the air before soaring off into the sky.

I returned to 'Ordinary Reality' and, with a sigh, tucked the outline away.  "Alright, I'll try it your way," I said out loud to Hortance.  Can owls smile?  I'm pretty sure Hortance did.  On one hand this had alleviated some nerves, but, as in all death/rebirth experiences I've had, there comes this anxious moment when you really have to let go of the past -- consciously part with the seeming safety of the way things 'have always been done' --and lay down the heavy pack of accumulated baggage if you are going to be light enough to fly into and embrace a new expansive future.

And as it turned out, of course, I really had nothing to worry about.  My worry had been that I would run out of things to say, but we ended up going a half hour overtime because I got so carried away with talking and telling my experiences and answering questions, that I almost ran out of time to have each person experience their own journey.  And every person did journey and met a guide, taking the first step on their personal shamanic path of empowerment. And what an honor, that the lessons of all my experiences,
enjoyable and not-so-much, find fruition in touching others' lives and lessons!  And how grateful I am to those brave souls who showed their faith, in me and their own guidance, by signing up for this first leap off the cliff with me!  Eternal thanks to my First Class!

Third Eye's The Charm

I had just experienced one of the most wonderful weekends I remember. Yet all good things must end.  Perhaps it was having to say good-bye to my guest, or nerves about my upcoming teaching debut, or just the encroaching darkness of this time of year, but what ever it was, something left me with a constant sinking, churning feeling in my stomach -- a familiar sensation from my days of panic attacks and depression -- when the weekend was over.

"Crap! Aren't I done with this stuff yet? Do I really have to go here again?" But that's where I went for the last few days -- at least far enough to dip my feet into that familiar, uncomfortable feeling of being cloaked in this buzzing, erratic, jagged energy that squeezes my shoulders, disturbs my stomach, and clouds my head. Blech!

I kept trying to remind myself that this is how I feel before making a great leap forward.  It's like my energy retreats inside of me, coiling for a spring, yet this withdrawal of energy leaves me feeling vulnerable and only partially present.  Double Blech!!

So finally I did what I should have done all along -- asking for guidance.  I talked to Goddess, to Artemis,  to Nathaniel, to any and all guides hanging around -- "Please show me what I need to do to heal this." 

Shortly after that, I had a sudden memory surface from the most recent shamanic workshop I'd attended.  We had done a journey asking for information on what we can do to on a daily basis to remember our Divinity, and one of the answers that came to me was, "Every morning when you wake up, open all three eyes!"

On the heals of that memory came an older memory of another journey.  In a shamanic class a couple years ago, around this same time of year, we journeyed to our guides to ask, "What gift do I have to help me get through the dark times without so much difficulty?"  This is what I wrote:

So I went to Nathaniel, asked him my question, and he promptly flew into the air, zipping around in loop-dee-loops. "What are you doing?" "I'm helping you fly above everything to get perspective." "That's fine and all, but I'm not finding that very helpful at the moment. What else have you got?"

At that point he straightened out and stopped in the air. I'm not sure that I was on his back before, but I was now. He said "Look there." My eyes followed his nose to find it was pointing toward a very bright star. "That is your North Star. It will always help you keep your bearings."

Sometimes these otherworld experiences seem a little too convenient. My favorite book is Finding Your Own North Star by Martha Beck. On one hand I was thrilled to have found mine. On the other, was I just making it up because of the book? Still, I've found that usually these things turn out to be convenient, or obvious, because of the fact that they're true. I went with it.

As I looked at my North Star I realized what I was really looking at was my third eye. Nathaniel confirmed this saying when I get into confusion and turmoil, to open my third eye, as well as my crown chakra. "Where are your emotions?" he asked. Instantly my attention went to my chest and heart where the churned up past still swirled around my shoulders. "If you don't keep your upper chakras open, your head will become immersed in your emotions. By opening your third eye you maintain a distance, staying above them, and are able to see more clearly. You will still feel them, but being able to see will help clear them more easily."

Again the third eye! So I focused my attention on my forehead, maybe even closing my physical eyes to do so, and instantly felt this swirling, flowering energy there -- kind of like the opening of the worm hole on Star Trek Deep Space Nine.  The effect was almost immediate.  All the buzzing, static, interference that I'd been encased in for days suddenly evaporated.  My stomach still felt off center and not totally right, but the weight and pressure of the building steam, like a pot of water put on to boil, just vanished as if my third eye, my sixth chakra, was a release valve allowing that pressure to escape and dissipate. Holy crap!  How easy was that?!

That was yesterday.  Last night I had one of the most peaceful night's sleep I remember.  And today I not only felt 100% better, I also had a number of various intuitive hits and visions, allowing me to sink beneath the surface of reality and taste of the twinkling magick behind all things.  It just took me opening my eyes -- all three of them -- to see it.

Random Thanks

Realizing that it is focusing on what's working, counting my blessings, gratitude for what I have, that increases the abundance of those things in my life, for Thanksgiving I made a list of 101 random things I am grateful for--  

1. A councelor who tells me to listen to the voices in my head  2. Chocolate milk  3. William Shatner  4. A warehouse job that allows me to listen to Classical Music  5. Adults who still believe in Santa  6. Long naps with my cats  7. The ability to entertain myself with my own creativity  8. Silence  9. Whimsy  10. Stars to wish upon  11. Where ever it is I go when doing something I love, like drawing comics  12. Rainbows  13. Muppet harmony  14. Everything that led me to being where I am right now -- even the 'bad' stuff  15. Oatmeal -- the perfect food  16. A quiver of new arrows on my back and a beautifully curved bow in my hand  17. Snuggling  18. Friends who become family and family that becomes friends  19. The glory of the full moon  20. Campfires...  21. ...And catching whiffs of wood smoke in my hair for days afterwards  22. Puppy breath  23. Wild places  24. The Faerie folk (and Pixie friends!)  25. Ullian pipes  26. Grande Vanilla Chai  27. Eyes that shine with laughter and wisdom  28. Laughing until my jaw hurts  29. People who are following their bliss, living passionately, and doing what they love  30. Rainbows  31. Moments of deep connection with someone I love  32. Hugs  33. Root beer...  34. ...floats  35. Long, lingering kisses  36. That feeling that lasts into the next day after spending time with someone special  37. Couches to nap on  38. The feeling of awe that comes from looking at something "I" created with the disbelif that it actually came through me  39. Cereal that is just soggy enough  40. Falling asleep to the sound of drums, and waking up to the sound of clanking armor  41. Shoulders to cry on  42. Piggies in a blanket  43. Danny Kay  44. That Xena came along when she did  45. Interlibrary loans  46. Good stories whether ancient sagas, epic poems, faerytales, graphic novels, movies, or what ever  47. Falling asleep to the song of frogs and/or crickets  48. Brilliant puns  49. Rituals with kindred spirits  50. Rainbows  51. Cuddling  52. Egg nog  53. Walking in woods which transform into Sherwood Forest before my eyes  54. Wombats  55. Bells and chimes that give voice to the winds  56. Dancing  57. Bruce Campbell  58. Deep abiding mysteries  59. Coon skin caps and buckskin jackets with fringe  60. Reverse blade swords  61. The Nav'i  62. Faerieworlds  63. Feathers  64. Big dogs  65. Rainbows  70. Glitter  71. Brother Cadfael  72. Jeeves and Wooster  73. Felicity Kendal  74. The honking of geese on the wing  75. Gravel roads  76. Skipping stones  77. A garden burger with mushrooms and swiss cheese...  78. ...Hanging out at the Roanoke Inn  79. The feel of the earth beneath bare feet  80. PBS quilting shows  81. Errol Flynn  82. People to talk to about the 'weird stuff'  83. Seven foot tall, invisible rabbits  84. Rainbows  85. Hope  86. That Honor and Chivalry still live  87. Nag champa  88. A Universe that is safe, friendly, and abundant  89. Four legged, furry children  90. The smell of wet dog  91. Oneness  92. That 42 is the answer and no one knows what the question is  93. Half Price Books  94. The smell of the farm  95. Amazing and breath-taking synchronicities  96. That even when I can't see or believe it, the Universe is unfolding in perfect harmony  97. The soft, gentle kindness of friends' support when I'm feeling weak and/or afraid  98. Smiles that begin in the eyes  99. The sparkly, twinkling magick that underlies all things  100. Being raised near Lake Wobegon  101. Did I mention rainbows?   

The Healing Is Mutual

It wasn't a bad day exactly, in fact bad days have, thankfully, been a rare oddity of late, but this afternoon I did have an emotional challenge that, though it didn't lay me low, did at one point have tears rolling down my cheeks (in the middle of work where, gratefully, most everyone but me was at lunch).

On my lunch break I decided to treat myself to an Egg Nogg Chai (heaven in a cup!) and on the way to the espresso stand I looked over at the pond that is kitty-corner across the street from my day-job, noticing all the ducks and geese there and deciding it would be a healing thing for me to take a walk there, to perhaps find some nice feathers as well as just to connect with Nature.

So upon my return, my cup of 'ambrosia' warming my little tummy, walk I did. Slowly and consciously I strolled around the edge of the water, watching the water birds changing their swimming patterns according to my position.  I walked with my hands open, my arms at a slight angle from my sides, so I could feel the energy of the earth.  Very healing indeed.

The thing that struck me strangely was that, just within the last few days a crew from the city had come in and cut down all the trees and foliage that fringed the pond (which in itself is interesting timing with Samhain and all, amidst a lot of death I've witnessed this season) but the energy of the place was still vital.  A scene that a short time ago would have broken my heart, I was looking upon from a very different perspective.  In the recent shamanic workshop in Santa Fe we really learned how in order to heal someone you can't see them as sick.  You can acknowledge the challenges, but you always see the person, or in this case the land, as whole. 

As I circled around the far end of the pond, feeling more energized and whole myself from the healing vibes of the earth, I silently addressed 'The Spirit of the Land' asking what I could do to help it heal. "You're doing it," came the gentle reply with a hint of a smile, and though I hadn't seen a single feather so far, as soon as the voice spoke in my mind, I spotted a single downy feather at my feet. 

"But, but, but..." I started to protest, expecting some elaborate ceremony involving drums and moonlight and dancing of some sort, "Are you sure you're not just my own mind trying to make my feel important?" "Very sure," came the distinct voice, this time spoken with almost a laugh, "As you walk in wholeness and heal yourself, you heal the land you stand upon. It is that simple.  Besides that, we have been less ravaged than the land around us and are for the most part still intact."

I looked around at the warehouses encroaching on this little oasis of wildlife, and realized what bit of destruction here was but a mere 'trim off the top' compared to the 'development' of the land surrounding it.

I had just about completed my circle around the pond, and I wondered at how curious it was -- healing the Earth which I was receiving healing from. Curious indeed. And suddenly I realized there was one more thing I could do to seal our mutual healing. A song had, unbidden, lept to my mind and onto my lips as I found myself singing out loud over the rippling waters.


           EE    EE
 HEE     LA    HEE                              
                             YO             EE    EE
                                        HEE     LA    HEE
                                                                     YO

What the words, if that's what you can call them, mean or where the fully formed tune came from I do not know, but the resulting healing was mutual, I assure you.

Breakfast At Ereshkigal's

As Samhain (pronounced "Sow Win" -- the Celtic term for Halloween) rolls around each year I like to reread this entry to a former private blog I had, of one of the most powerful rituals I've ever taken part in.  It took place a couple years ago with a local Pagan group and still I feel the ripples from it influencing my life to this day -- particularly the promise I made to the Queen of the Underworld...


The other night I took a trip to the underworld. Though it was “just” a ritual, the experience was authentic and powerful. I thought I had come to this gathering to see a couple friends who would be there but, as the rit unfolded, I realized that it was the real reason I was there.

The ritual was centered around Inanna’s descent to the underworld. In the pre-rit discussion, as they were preparing us for what was to come, I felt anxiety rising, and my chest beginning to tighten. I could tell this was not going to be a normal, just-along-for-the-ride type, ritual, but had deeper, more consequential ramifications. I had doubts, and questioned if this was truly something I wanted to take part in. I also knew that I had to go through it, because it was exactly, in a nutshell, what I’ve been doing this season.

We met inside, where we watched Inanna, the Sumerian Queen of Heaven, decide to visit her sister, Ereshkigal, Queen of the Underworld. She was confident because of Her rank with the gods, and who She was, that this would not be a problem. However, we witnessed Her meeting with Ereshkigal’s guardians who literally stripped Her of everything until bowed and shaking, naked and crying, She was ushered into the lower realms. And as Inanna disappeared out the door, into the dark night, one guardian turned to the group, telling us that if we wanted to travel to the underworld, we were to join them outside, along the building.

Once we were lined up outside, we were given blindfolds of gauze, and a rope to hold onto, by which we would be guided through the seven gates to the Queen Herself. So we were led slowly, blindly, through the night and over the rough, mucky ground, sometimes brushing against trees or rocks, and at seven points, as we passed through a ‘gate’, we were asked a question: “Will you release…” What we were asked to release were our power, our relationships, our possessions, our wealth, our bodies, our beauty, our minds. If ever our answer was ‘no’, we would need to let go of the rope and return, but I continued to answer ‘yes’. This is what this whole exploration has been about for me, getting to my core. As we were told at each gate, “These things have no power in this realm. Who are you without them?” That is what my exploration is about. Who am I at my essence, when everything that is not me is removed? It is something I faced on my vision Quest, and here, 6 months later, it seems I needed to be reminded again.

And so, as we neared the Nether Realms, and I let go of more and more of the things that I have wrapped a false identity around, I felt lighter and lighter, until finally we were told to remove our blindfolds. We found ourselves in the Royal Presence of Ereshkigal. A fire burned in a brazier, just off the ground in front of us, and beyond that was a raised platform, a stage, upon which sat the throne of Ereshkigal, and upon which sat Ereshkigal Herself.

What unfolded next was more drama, as Inanna was brought before Her sister -- Her sister filled with anger, bitterness, resentment, and hate for being relegated to the Underworld while Inanna had been raised to become Queen of the Heavens. Inanna, on Her knees, still weeping and asking why, kept crying “It’s not fair”, only to be slapped by Erishkigal who repeated “it’s not fair!” “You will never leave this place Sister!”

Then the Queen of Darkness turned Her attention toward us. She descended the throne, and walked to and fro before us, and though her black attire and skull-painted face seemed aimed at frightening us, there was a beauty and an allure to her that could not be denied. “What were you looking for when you came here? Enlightenment?!” She asked, “Well, you’ve found me, and you best pray that you can find something in your heart to draw you beyond this place, because if I find one spot of darkness in you, my bitterness and resentment and regret and anger will use that opening to eat at you alive from the inside out!”

Now, I guessed that all this was meant to push buttons, make us question ourselves, and even scare us, but having just released all those things, on the journey down to this point, that would bring up such feelings, I could look upon Her with nothing but Love and Compassion, for at my core I knew myself to be Light and Love and Truth. I saw in her a reflection of all the things that distract me and get in the way of my connection with that core, but at that moment, all I was was Love.

She continued by saying that there was no way out of here but through Her. She was the final gate, and we would have to have good reason to be released back into the land of the living. With that She ascended the throne once more, where She sat and motioned each of us before Her, one by one. As we filed up, I watched Her interact with the others. Despite Her rage and bitterness, she showed quite a bit of tenderness, reaching out and holding someone’s hands, placing her hand on the top of someone’s head, or beneath their chin. Still I felt a tinge of anxiety as my turn arrived, in fact enough anxiety that I wasn’t paying attention and tripped going up the steps. D’oh! I regained my composure, approached Her Majesty, and knelt at Her feet. Looking up into Her eyes I knew for certain I was kneeling before a Goddess and no mere human.

“What would bind you to my realm?” “Low self esteem,” I answered. “Ah yes. When I close my eyes I can see that you appear this big.” She held Her fingers a couple inches apart. “But you are not this big. You know this!” “Yes.” “If I release you from my realm you will take all of you, your full size with you. You may leave that little you here, but you will take the rest with you.” “Yes.” “Now, what ties you so strongly the Land of the Living?” “Love, Creation…” “Ah! Creation!” She sat back, closing Her eyes. “I remember that well! I was quite fond of Creation, but I have nothing to do with that now,” She said, a sliver of bitterness slipping back into Her words. She opened Her eyes, sat forward again, and once more I found myself captivated by the beautiful eyes of the Divine. “You will not waste this?” She asked, though more as a command than a question. “No.” “You will live and you will create?” There was the sense of personal purpose in this, of not allowing anything to interfere with it. “I will.” “Then go,” She said, tilting her head toward the far end of the stage.

Once we had all been released, Ereshkigal again addressed Inanna, telling Her to get up from where She had lain, next to the throne, this whole time. She rose, to be told again that She would not be permitted to leave. Inanna protested, saying She had done all that had been demanded of Her. At this point, a priest stepped forward, addressing Ereshkigal, saying it was the Law that if She could find some soul to take Inanna’s place, the Queen of Heaven must be released. He waved a hand toward us saying, “There are plenty of souls here. Choose one.” “Wait!” Cried Inanna. “This is my shade.” She pulled the same gauzy fabric that our blindfolds were made of, from about Her head. “This is all my bitterness and fears, you may keep these.” She descended the stairs and tossed the gauze into the flames. She stood, once again naked, before the Queen of the Underworld, but no longer shaking or crying.

“Your requirements have been fulfilled. Thank you Sister. I have learned a lot from you, and for that I will always be grateful.” Inanna’s friend and companion, then draped a robe over the Heavenly Queen’s shoulders, and She turned to us, directing us to throw our blindfolds into the fire. When all had done so, leaving behind the things that blinded us to our true natures, Inanna told us to clasp hands, and She thusly guided us back to the Land of the Living.

On the way back, only one question had we to answer – “Will you live?”

“Yes!”

Swan Song

It was, synchronistically, the day of my Birthday at the shamanic workshop I went to in Santa Fe that we were dealing with Creation Stories.  In the work we were learning, we were merging with the Creator, and so it was important for each of us to know who our personal creator is, thus we did a journey to literally 'meet our maker' and to discover what our personal creation myth was, as well as to come back with a symbol of our creator that we could put up somewhere to remind us to connect.

Now I have a deep, expanding body of personal myths that I've been building for years, and had actually written a creation myth long ago (Swan Mother -- A Creation Story), so when we began our journey I was nervous -- if Swan Mother shows up, that's just too convenient and I know I'm just making it up, if not downright cheating because I already wrote it.  Well, guess who showed up?  But as I watched this living story unfold before my eyes, whether I'd already written it or not, there were changes and depth added to it that were not part of the original story, and I can't describe the immediacy and exhilaration of witnessing it play out of it's own accord before me.

The following is an updated version of my personal Creation Story, melding my original writing with my first-hand eye-witness account...

irst was, is, Swan Mother. She-Before-All-Else. You wouldn't have known that was who She was, though, for She appeared as but a ball of pure white light. She was alone, but not lonely, for She was complete in Herself. So complete was She that a feeling began to make itself known to Her from deep inside. A tingling, bubbling feeling. A feeling of love.

Now Swan Mother knows love. One complete in Herself knows all about love, because it is love that makes one complete. A deep abiding love that is the touchstone and ground of all Being. Swan Mother is Love.

But this love was different. This love was growing -- Growing and expanding in such a way that Swan Mother knew it could not be contained. If She did nothing She would burst! So in Her wisdom, Swan Mother gathered Her wings about Her, like a great downy cloak, and in one swift and graceful movement, spread Her vast wings as far as they would reach. In so doing, in this unimaginable expanse from wing-tip to wing-tip, Swan Mother had created Space.

As Her wings unfolded, so too unfurled Her long, curved neck and in a great expression of release she sang out a song of Joy.  Now this tingling, bubbling, effervescent feeling of love, growing with in Her, had somewhere to go, and go it did!  From Her snowy throat, amidst the notes of Her beautiful song, sprang a serpent of flame which curled and twisted and danced through the new-born space, rolling and stretching in it's new found freedom. And as the serpent danced, his fiery form coalesced into a stallion -- Fire Horse!  

So filled with His new found joy and freedom was Fire Horse, that He ran and jumped, played and pranced throughout the whole of space between Swan Mother's outstretched wings.  And in His excitement and play, the sparks from His hooves ignited all the downy feathers, that floated everywhere from Swan Mother's great exertion, and these became the countless multitude of suns and stars in the heavens. 

Swan Mother flapped her wings, fanning the flames of these myriad suns, and the the currents which formed in the wake of her wings drew all the stars into their myriad patterns and constellations.  So much Joy had She at this creation that tears fell from Her eyes, each tear drop falling into place around a star -- each a pregnant salt-water world ready to blossom with life.

And so it was. And so it is. Aho.

 

...and as I was beginning to return from my journey, and to the class room in Santa Fe, I was left with one last image -- I was a wee-babe held lovingly and tenderly in the interlaced wingtips of Swan Mother, as her long, graceful neck craned down in my direction and She smiled at me.

 

In The Footsteps of the Master

In the recent 5-day shamanic workshop I attended in Santa Fe, our teacher, Sandra Ingerman, was talking about how the Universe is always talking to us, and it's really up to us to recognize and interpret the signs and omens presented to us.  It may be as simple as a particular bird or animal crossing your path, or the snippet of an overheard conversation.  But whatever your question, the answers are all around you, and the Universe attempts to communicate them to you in meaningful ways.  I believe it was just before lunch she was telling us this, and as we broke to eat, our assignment was to ask a question and then to expect and to look for an answer. 

At the soul retrieval workshop I'd taken with Sandra acouple months ago, I'd learned that she has a two year Teacher's Training program.  Immediately I felt excitement and a pull in that direction, but for the intervening time between that workshop and this one, whenever I asked my guides if I should sign up for it, my answer has been, "One step at a time. Just get through the next workshop..." etc. So here I was at the next workshop and a lot of people were talking about teacher training, and a lot of people had already been accepted into the program.  "Okay guys! I think I need an answer here! Is it for the highest good for me to take this teacher training?"

I went to lunch, a little disappointed that some of the faery folk who abounded in this magickal place didn't jump out of the bushes yelling "Yes!! Do it!! We want to see you again ion April!!"  Oh well.  I kept my eyes and heart open as I wound down and processed all the info and experience from the morning's class.  I wandered back up to the class room a bit early, thinking that maybe I'd take a short nap in my spot and that way not have to worry about oversleeping into class time.  As I walked into the building, there at my feet, inexplicably to me as to how it got there and pretty sure I hadn't seen it before, was a paw print, dug into the solid tile floor. A wolf's pawprint.

It's not like it was a solid concrete floor where some animal could have stepped into it before it had dried.  And it wasn't a decorative tile where there was a theme with other decorative tiles around it. It was absolutely on it's own.  Besides that, had it been cut there by a professional craftsman, it would most likely have been more 'perfect'. This print was perfectly imperfect.  There may be a totally logical way it got there, but I can't even guess at how.  And besides that, the 'how' isn't important -- that just adds to the juicy mystery of the miracle.

The significance is simply in it's presence, and the fact that it is a wolf paw.  Wolf, aside from being my Totem animal, carries the medicine and symbology of the Teacher.  Whether male or female, Wolf gets its energy and power from the Moon, the intuitive Feminine side of its soul -- a trait of the greatest teachers, rolling with the flow of what needs to be illuminated and putting the importance that things are seen clearly rather than following to the letter some syllabus or schedule.  And every wolf pack has its scouts that venture forth into unknown territory to bring back to the pack what they've learned from their own experience.  This is the essence and embodiment of the teacher.   

The fact also that the print was pointing into the heart of our class room rather than away from it seemed highly symbolic.  A clear enough sign to me, as if Wolf were standing there in person, ushering me into the room and whispering, "You're on the right path. Follow my footsteps. This way..."

So to my hidden faery folk friends, including the little guy with the long tail who climbed up into my closet the first night, I will see you in April!