Zander and I watch a show on Nickelodeon, very popular among those in his age range, called Avatar. For the Season Finale, (yeah, it deserves the capitalization...) the main character Aang, went to study with a guru, so he could learn to master his most powerful self. I just love that this went out over Nickelodeon to all the kids of America! And it so delighted me, that I decided to follow the guru's advice for myself.
I started by going to the house of my high self, which is something I've spent time developing with and for the purpose of Re/Transformation.
I had already set the intention, and I was met by my inner elf, the sort from the Silmarillion, who was clearly intending to be my guide through the process. Nice to know my unconscious and superconscious are in support of my will to grow. We hooked arms and went into the room that is just for me. The ceiling there is domed, and can show me anything I want to know about myself.
In the show, the guru said that the first chakra is the chakra of the element of earth and that it is for survival and can be blocked by fear.
So I went to my first chakra, seeing all in shades of red, and I asked to be shown my greatest fears. I saw myself misusing power, and crazy people engaging in random violence. I thought there might be more, but that was it, at least for now. I let them wash away in the truth of not knowing the future, and the trust of the perfection of my unfolding path.
Then he spoke of the second chakra as the element of water, and being for pleasure, it is blocked by guilt.
I sought my second chakra, seeing all in orange, and asked to be shown what I was ashamed of or felt guilty about. This was mostly about Jeff, and leaving a marriage that is for most purposes, and by most standards, a very good marriage. But there were bits about being a perfect parent, too. These I let go by forgiveness and honoring my commitment to my highest principles.
The guru called the third chakra the fire chakra, and it was for will and therefore blocked by shame. I translated that to doubt, because I had already done shame with guilt.
So I went in all yellows to my third chakra and asked to be shown my self doubt. They were multitudinous, but mostly small. These I let go in the light of guidance. That even though I don't know what's best in every moment, I have access to those who do. (Just stand up, and you'll know what to do...)
These first three I did overnight, in the spaces between waking up and going back to sleep. (Which I do too much, but I've got some ideas on how to sleep more soundly. That'll be another post.) The next morning was busy. Actually that was helpful, because it really let me feel the difference between the chakras I had cleansed and the ones I hadn't. It was really light feeling. As if I had been used to a heaviness and it was gone. Like taking off the weight belt when you're done scuba diving.
I had a massage scheduled for the afternoon, so I thought I would work on my fourth chakra then. It turned out that I had enough time to do all the remaining four. I like it when it's easy!
Our fictional guide (remeber that truth is where you find it!) called the fourth chakra the love chakra, and following his pattern, it would also be elemental air, which fit for me, since it's right in there with the lungs. It's blocked by grief.
So all in green I asked to be shown what I still grieved. This result was one of the most surprising to me, being mostly my father as he was when I was very young, and a long list of animal companions. I let these go by seeing love as an energy that recirculates like any other. Also, knowing death to be very different than our culture assumes, it's easy for me to allow for passage. I'll see them again when waiting is filled.
The fifth chakra he called the truth chakra, element of sound, blocked by lies.
In turquoise, I sought out my lies. It was one of the easiest for me, since I let go of lying so long ago. These days, the closest I get to lying is to not correct someone's assumptions, and not very often even then. I just don't like untruth or manipulation. It takes too much energy. So the few things that came up were about myself. Anyway, I let go of my deceptions by renewing my commitment to transparency.
The sixth chakra was described as the light chakra, for vision, and blocked by illusion. And in the show, they talked about the illusion of separateness, that all things are connected...
All in indigo, I asked to be shown my illusions. The biggest one was the remnant of trying to be responsible for the happiness of another. And that any disonance is harmful, instead of serving it's purpose in delineating greater connection to truth and oneness. To release these, I invoked "It is as it is." How can it be any other way?
And finally, the seventh chakra was called the knowledge chakra, blocked by attachment. It was portrayed as cosmic in nature on the show. It reminded me of the Tibetan Buddhist prayer of attaining all knowing so that you can better help people and end suffering.
I went in purples to see what illusions I still cherished. I don't currently remember what I saw. I think I went deeper than conscious work, there. But when I woke up, my massage was over and I felt light all through.
So there it is. If you get a chance to watch Avatar, go ahead; it's a great show. And if you know anyone who owns the discs, then borrow the last one in Book Two and watch Chapter Nineteen of Earth. You know things are getting better when the cartoons are offering effective spiritual guidance.
Namaste
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Just Stand Up
I follow guidance a lot. Some people have no idea what I mean when I say that. I'll explain, just briefly, exactly what it means to me.
There is a knowing available to all human beings, part conscience, part Holy Spirit. With muscle testing, or a pendulum, or dowsing rods, or by listening to the voices of angels, or meditating, or reading tarot cards/tea leaves/I Ching/Runes, or any other of the thousands of ways of finding truth through tools, anyone (really, anyone) can become more familiar with this deep connection to a greater awareness.
For me, the journey began with cards. It passed through many other forms, because I am endlessly curious. I have used something like seventeen different forms of divination. Eventually, I studied healing arts, and became more direct in my questions. Then, after long practice, I found that my asking no longer needed tools. In fact, I had used them for so long that the answers arrived more quickly than my tools could respond.
Now, I get very direct prompting. Sometimes it's because I'm asking a question, and I am given an answer. Sometimes, it because I haven't asked, but probably should have, and I am given an answer. The universe definitely has a sense of humor.
Some might ask, "Who is answering?" I can't say for sure. I name them, according to the stories I know, the sense I get of the personalities behind my interactions with Spirit. I know the results are positive. And the proof is in the pudding. If I was led to do destructive things, I would be very skeptical. It never happens that way. Always, my work with the unseen has granted me new insight, healing intuition, and opening to greater strength and connection.
And so it was this Sunday. I like to attend the Spiritualist Church in Austin. It's a bit of a drive, though, and I only go when guided to go. This was one of those weeks. I knew on Thursday that I'd be attending. Usually, this is because I need a healing boost, or someone is going to give me a particularly important message from spirit. This time it was more.
When the healing part of the service came, I asked my guides if I ought to offer healing. They answered no. I asked if I ought to receive healing. Again, no. Well,I thought, it must be the message, then. And sure enough, I was the first in the congregation to be offered a message. That done, though, I finally realized why I was there. Not to receive, but to deliver.
Okay, I can do that. I've had practice in performance with channeling. But more, and here's where the sense of humor comes in, my guides wouldn't tell me anything else. I went round with them for a minute or two. "I'm supposed to deliver a message?" "Yes." "Well, what is it?" No answer. "Who is it for?" No answer. "Look, I'm supposed to deliver a message, right?" "Yes." I can hear them laughing, now.
So I know I'm missing something. Hmmm. I finally stop asking questions and just listen for a moment. You know what they say?
"Just stand up and you'll know what to do next."
Oh, dang. This is one of those "trust in me" moments. Visions of standing in front of an expectant crowd and having nothing to say... Ack!! Of course, my guides are plenty amused, but I'm just trying to pluck up the courage. And finally, at the last possible moment, because they were about to go on to announcements, I find myself standing.
(I'm still not sure I did that completely on purpose.)
I even have a chance to sit back down, but I don't like to chicken out on anything, especially Spirit tapping me on the arm. So off I go, to stand in the aisle and have nothing prepared. My heart is pounding so hard I can't hear for a moment. I feel my face flush. But I'm in for the whole of it, now. And as I take a breath and deliberately calm myself, things get easier.
One face in the crowd seemed lighter and more focused than all the others. Well, that must be the one. I ask and receive permission from her to deliver a message. Still don't have one to deliver, but permission is a good start... I take a breath and suddenly, there's an image, a single rose bud, dew speckled, gently unfolding. Well, look at that... I wonder what it means... I describe it to her, and as I'm speaking, the meaning comes to me, as well.
Wow, that was easy. Well, it was pretty hard, actually to overcome my fear, but the delivering was simple, at least. And again. A face, then permission, then an image, then the explanation. And my guides let me off the hook with just two. Sigh of relief, sit down again. Lesson complete.
What have I learned? Well, ego needs humbling sometimes. I learned that I don't get to control how Spirit works through me. And I am well reminded of the value of trust, and that the truest purpose of intuition is as service to a greater good and community.
Spirit has a plan for me, and I have, in fact, committed myself to becoming the instrument of Divine Will. So this is what that looks like.
"Just stand up, and you'll know what to do next."
Namaste,
Crow
There is a knowing available to all human beings, part conscience, part Holy Spirit. With muscle testing, or a pendulum, or dowsing rods, or by listening to the voices of angels, or meditating, or reading tarot cards/tea leaves/I Ching/Runes, or any other of the thousands of ways of finding truth through tools, anyone (really, anyone) can become more familiar with this deep connection to a greater awareness.
For me, the journey began with cards. It passed through many other forms, because I am endlessly curious. I have used something like seventeen different forms of divination. Eventually, I studied healing arts, and became more direct in my questions. Then, after long practice, I found that my asking no longer needed tools. In fact, I had used them for so long that the answers arrived more quickly than my tools could respond.
Now, I get very direct prompting. Sometimes it's because I'm asking a question, and I am given an answer. Sometimes, it because I haven't asked, but probably should have, and I am given an answer. The universe definitely has a sense of humor.
Some might ask, "Who is answering?" I can't say for sure. I name them, according to the stories I know, the sense I get of the personalities behind my interactions with Spirit. I know the results are positive. And the proof is in the pudding. If I was led to do destructive things, I would be very skeptical. It never happens that way. Always, my work with the unseen has granted me new insight, healing intuition, and opening to greater strength and connection.
And so it was this Sunday. I like to attend the Spiritualist Church in Austin. It's a bit of a drive, though, and I only go when guided to go. This was one of those weeks. I knew on Thursday that I'd be attending. Usually, this is because I need a healing boost, or someone is going to give me a particularly important message from spirit. This time it was more.
When the healing part of the service came, I asked my guides if I ought to offer healing. They answered no. I asked if I ought to receive healing. Again, no. Well,I thought, it must be the message, then. And sure enough, I was the first in the congregation to be offered a message. That done, though, I finally realized why I was there. Not to receive, but to deliver.
Okay, I can do that. I've had practice in performance with channeling. But more, and here's where the sense of humor comes in, my guides wouldn't tell me anything else. I went round with them for a minute or two. "I'm supposed to deliver a message?" "Yes." "Well, what is it?" No answer. "Who is it for?" No answer. "Look, I'm supposed to deliver a message, right?" "Yes." I can hear them laughing, now.
So I know I'm missing something. Hmmm. I finally stop asking questions and just listen for a moment. You know what they say?
"Just stand up and you'll know what to do next."
Oh, dang. This is one of those "trust in me" moments. Visions of standing in front of an expectant crowd and having nothing to say... Ack!! Of course, my guides are plenty amused, but I'm just trying to pluck up the courage. And finally, at the last possible moment, because they were about to go on to announcements, I find myself standing.
(I'm still not sure I did that completely on purpose.)
I even have a chance to sit back down, but I don't like to chicken out on anything, especially Spirit tapping me on the arm. So off I go, to stand in the aisle and have nothing prepared. My heart is pounding so hard I can't hear for a moment. I feel my face flush. But I'm in for the whole of it, now. And as I take a breath and deliberately calm myself, things get easier.
One face in the crowd seemed lighter and more focused than all the others. Well, that must be the one. I ask and receive permission from her to deliver a message. Still don't have one to deliver, but permission is a good start... I take a breath and suddenly, there's an image, a single rose bud, dew speckled, gently unfolding. Well, look at that... I wonder what it means... I describe it to her, and as I'm speaking, the meaning comes to me, as well.
Wow, that was easy. Well, it was pretty hard, actually to overcome my fear, but the delivering was simple, at least. And again. A face, then permission, then an image, then the explanation. And my guides let me off the hook with just two. Sigh of relief, sit down again. Lesson complete.
What have I learned? Well, ego needs humbling sometimes. I learned that I don't get to control how Spirit works through me. And I am well reminded of the value of trust, and that the truest purpose of intuition is as service to a greater good and community.
Spirit has a plan for me, and I have, in fact, committed myself to becoming the instrument of Divine Will. So this is what that looks like.
"Just stand up, and you'll know what to do next."
Namaste,
Crow
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Making Peace with Words
Language is so powerful. Words can heal or hurt, create open pathways or close hearts in mere moments. Masaru Emoto shows us in no uncertain terms how we can influence water with words, whether for the better or for the worse. But for me, the most interesting power of words is their influence on my worldview, from the inside out.
For example, I have long envisioned our reality as a single thread on a multidimensional tapestry of possible realities, parallel threads hovering all around us, just past the veil of some mysterious force that keeps each one isolated and on track with its own rules and storyline. So the word universe, implying singularity, didn't jibe. But what could I do? The accepted word doesn't really have any easy synonyms. I did say multiverse, where I thought the word would be well received. But all in all, there was a little piece of me dissatisfied.
Then, while listening to Nawang Kechog (I love his work, go buy his cd's...) speak on the interconnectedness of things, I realized something that transformed my whole way of seeing the word 'universe.' I perceived an infitinte and complex but perfectly patterned web of circumstances must exist for every thing, every moment to come into existence. That what I call Spirit is actually the conductor of an immense symphony of interwoven energy flows. And the word Uni (one) Verse (song) means just that.
Now that little dissatisfaction is gone, and I feel joyful about the word. The word hasn't changed. But I have shifted my seeing of it and made it comfortable in my mind. And I recognize the value of being at peace with my language. So I started lookig for other words that didn't feel comfortable.
The phrase 'raw food' came next. I like to say what is, rather than describe something by what it is not. It's a practice of consciousness, allowing me to actively participate in co-creation with my thoughts and speech. I call it generative language. And 'raw' has connotations of the negative, at least for me. It's not cooked. So I was looking for alternatives.
I thought first about the idea that fresh food is full of life and enzymatically active. One of my recipe books has a kirlian photograph on the cover, and the energy flickers from the ends of a slice of starfruit like a miniature lightning storm. I toyed with the phrases 'life food,' 'live food,' and 'living food.' But chewing is such a strong and irrevocable process, it would almost be like killing my little sprouting friends. Not a perfect fit.
Then I considered the magic of photosynthesis. The plants we eat have energy that is only one step removed from sunlight. That's amazing to me. So what if I called my food 'sun food?' Or maybe 'sun fuel?' Very close, now. I remember though, that language is first about communication. And if I'm calling food 'sun fuel,' I'm setting myself up to do a lot of explaining. So, still not perfect.
And in the generous way it has, the unified song brings me my answer. Zander is opening a window, and he has to move a little statuette. He asks which goddess it is. I answer, "It's a god, sweetie, the Egyptian god of the Sun. His name is Ra." And he responds, "Raw? Like raw food?"
Now that's as close to full circle as you can get! I call my way of eating 'raw food.' And implicit in my understanding is that it is also Ra food. The whole journey of my internal exploration, contained in the starting point. I feel like kid at Christmas.
Namaste,
Crow
For example, I have long envisioned our reality as a single thread on a multidimensional tapestry of possible realities, parallel threads hovering all around us, just past the veil of some mysterious force that keeps each one isolated and on track with its own rules and storyline. So the word universe, implying singularity, didn't jibe. But what could I do? The accepted word doesn't really have any easy synonyms. I did say multiverse, where I thought the word would be well received. But all in all, there was a little piece of me dissatisfied.
Then, while listening to Nawang Kechog (I love his work, go buy his cd's...) speak on the interconnectedness of things, I realized something that transformed my whole way of seeing the word 'universe.' I perceived an infitinte and complex but perfectly patterned web of circumstances must exist for every thing, every moment to come into existence. That what I call Spirit is actually the conductor of an immense symphony of interwoven energy flows. And the word Uni (one) Verse (song) means just that.
Now that little dissatisfaction is gone, and I feel joyful about the word. The word hasn't changed. But I have shifted my seeing of it and made it comfortable in my mind. And I recognize the value of being at peace with my language. So I started lookig for other words that didn't feel comfortable.
The phrase 'raw food' came next. I like to say what is, rather than describe something by what it is not. It's a practice of consciousness, allowing me to actively participate in co-creation with my thoughts and speech. I call it generative language. And 'raw' has connotations of the negative, at least for me. It's not cooked. So I was looking for alternatives.
I thought first about the idea that fresh food is full of life and enzymatically active. One of my recipe books has a kirlian photograph on the cover, and the energy flickers from the ends of a slice of starfruit like a miniature lightning storm. I toyed with the phrases 'life food,' 'live food,' and 'living food.' But chewing is such a strong and irrevocable process, it would almost be like killing my little sprouting friends. Not a perfect fit.
Then I considered the magic of photosynthesis. The plants we eat have energy that is only one step removed from sunlight. That's amazing to me. So what if I called my food 'sun food?' Or maybe 'sun fuel?' Very close, now. I remember though, that language is first about communication. And if I'm calling food 'sun fuel,' I'm setting myself up to do a lot of explaining. So, still not perfect.
And in the generous way it has, the unified song brings me my answer. Zander is opening a window, and he has to move a little statuette. He asks which goddess it is. I answer, "It's a god, sweetie, the Egyptian god of the Sun. His name is Ra." And he responds, "Raw? Like raw food?"
Now that's as close to full circle as you can get! I call my way of eating 'raw food.' And implicit in my understanding is that it is also Ra food. The whole journey of my internal exploration, contained in the starting point. I feel like kid at Christmas.
Namaste,
Crow
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Sigil
~pronounced si'juhl, n. a sign or image considered magicalThis is the third sigil I've constructed in recent months, and as I've come to expect, the universe responded promptly with gratifying results.
I build sigils for the purpose of solidifying intention. All wishcrafting, whether you call it prayer or manifestation or co-creation or majick, is basically telling the universe in no uncertain terms that you desire a particular outcome.
I used to build primarily with stones, especially crystals for their particular colors and properties. Now, though, I find it easy to build a sigil with almost any material. Here, as you can see, I've used canvases, paints, and brushes. The purpose of this creation was to increase the flow of canvas through my life. I intend to buy more canvas, paint more, complete more art, show more often, and sell more work. Which will, of course, make it possible for me to buy more canvas!
Sigil building is like any good manifesting project, and certain things are required for success. First, I find I must be very clear about my intention. Second, I need to be sure that my motivation is positive and designed to support more than just my own well being. A fuzzy vision, or selfish or limiting motives will generally render the sigil ineffective.
The building of the pattern itself is best accomplished in a near meditative state. Activation of the brain on both sides, being in low beta or actual alpha state, brings a balance of conscious thought and attunement to the broader realms of intuition and Spirit. I won't even try to build it if I feel agitated or upset about anything. And finally, I need to be willing to follow the pattern as it expands outward, without having preconceived notions about how it's supposed to happen. In other words, I need to let go of controlling it, and allow it to unfold in whatever magical sideways manner it will!
And indeed, that's what happened for me on this one. I built it last Friday. I had no sooner finished when I noticed I had a new email. My friend Jamye had sent me the name of a local man who hosts temporary art displays, and she had sent him my email and website. Fast, that was! I later added a bunch of cash to the pattern, placing bills of every denomination under the brushes. One way of putting my money where my mouth is... I took it down on Saturday evening. For me, I like to have them in place anywhere from a day to a week, because the longer they sit, the stronger an impression they leave.
Yesterday, I followed my guidance and went to an open circle at the Spiritualist Church in Austin. Such a great group of people! If you're looking for a very whole minded community, this might be it. You can check out their schedule at http://www.fscoa.org/ Anyway, before I went, I realized that I wanted to wear a sarong over my thin top. Partly for modesty, and partly because they seem so happy about air conditioning there, and I didn't want to shiver in meditation. So I stopped by New Age Books. I'm sorting through the selection, and I overhear the word labyrinth from a conversation at the register.
I join in and find that this woman wants to build a labyrinth in her yard, and she's looking for guidance about how to proceed. So, that's my cue- I tell her that I design and build them. In the end, she takes a card for herself, and extras to give to friends, and the woman behind the register sends me to the back of the store to hang some on the bulletin board. All because I listened to my intuition and went not only to Austin for the open circle, but to buy a sarong to feel more comfortable and therefore more present in the moment.
The meditation was great, and we put focus on generating peace and harmony across the globe. There were people I knew and people I didn't. Afterward, I paused to chat with some people, and one of the women I hadn't met before is a fellow shaman, complete with the scar where lightning struck her. And when I told her I'm from Dripping Springs, she casually replied- "Oh cool! I'm helping a friend set up an art show out there." Back to the truck I ran for more cards. Hooray!
I'm still almost giddy with joy, as I write this. Tired from staying up late, a little overwhelmed with being a mom and an educator and an arist, but at base, very happy. We live in a truly abundant reality. There's a wonderful quote I found on a Seek to Know article, and it sums up the falsehood of scarcity quite well-
"Given the resources on Earth, every man, woman, and child should be a millionaire many times over" - Buckminster Fuller
We will know no peace until there is equity and justice. We can only create equity and justice by letting go of our greed and fear. Go build a sigil for yourself, let your intention sprout into the world, let your vision find others of like mind. Call me if you like, or drop me an email and I'll help you with it. The universe wants you to be happy~ it wants all of us to be happy! All you have to do is ask from the heart and let it happen.
Namaste,
Crow
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Fifth Decade Beginning
I began my first decade in Riverside California, born early to a pair of people who went where the current carried them- namely into the uncharted waters of parenthood. It was rocky for them, being unfinished with their own growth. I was calm in the midst of thier folly, except when I was frightened or sad. Unfortunately these less cherished emotions became more common as time passed. I gradually accumulated two brothers and a sister. They were more real to me than my parents, because they were more honest. I am very grateful that I have siblings. Even if our paths are widely divergent now, I feel somewhat anchored in the world, knowing that there are several stories unfolding that began where mine did. The theme of my first decade was curiosity. I grew and time passed.
My second decade started in Clovis, a suburb of Fresno and an agricultural town in the heart of the frying pan known as the San Joaquin Valley. I spent all summer in the swimming pool of our apartment complex, only coming back to the apartment for food or sleep. (This is only a mild exaggeration...) During the school year I alternately delighted my teachers with brilliant aptitude and drove them mad with willful disobedience. It was a good balance. I studied music in the form of choir and clarinet, which have influenced the whole rest of my life. I express humble and lasting gratitude for the teaching and dedication of Mr. Bird. I ran cross country and track with prodigal success. I learned to love nature and the wilderness on backpacking and camping trips to the many state and national forests in California. This my father did right. I observed the many reasons why perpetual journeys into drunkeness and marijuana induced idiocy were a bad plan. Many thanks to my uncle and father for their fine counterexample. To this day, I am completely uninterested in alcohol or recreational drugs. My mother had finally divorced my father, and sheltered two of my siblings in southern California. I conspired with my remaining brother, Jack, to hide our indiscretions from our father, mostly with nominal success. The theme of my second decade was discernment. Time passed and I grew.
By the start of my third decade, I had left California far behind. I lived in scenic Rockport, Massachusetts with my third great love and our cats. There was a lovely wholeness to that existence, a sufficiency that kept us on an even keel for a long time. We both found enough joy to need no other friends. I'm still surprised by this, in hindsight, though at the time, it bore no scrutiny. I worked for a motivational speaker named Richard Tosti, who showed me many new ideas, and taught me that the message and the messenger are not necessarily the same. I still studied, though my abortive attempts at formal education had clarified that it would likely never be a good fit for me. Instead, I read voraciously. I traveled the little walked pathways of mysticism, journeying steadily toward New Age culture while maintaining a discerning eye and a skeptical mind. I progressed through a Course in Miracles. I minimized the impact of normalcy by reading lots of fantasy and science fiction. I played tabletop role playing games with anyone I could find. I am immensely grateful for the strength of my imagination. The theme of my third decade was exploration. I grew and time passed.
The beginning of fourth decade found me back in California. My third love had passed out of my life, lost in the journey through parenthood. Take heed- those waters remain rocky for those unfinished in their own growth. I had adapted to the best of my abilities, learned to love Texas, found purpose in self manifestation, and gained strength and courage while working for the San Marcos Fire Department. My first son Robby was six, and he stayed in Texas with his father while I went to California to study. I learned two things- how to engage in violence and how to engage in healing. Both important in their own times. I also found my fourth great love, and made him central to my reality. I met cherished friends, full of humor and grace. I especially honor Evan Ten Brink, who showed me true generosity and the meaning of pay it forward, long before the movie came to the screen. I partook of Wymyn's community, knowing that I was only a visitor, and cherishing the things I learned that I would someday bring home to share with similar gatherings in Texas. Especially the concept of Amazon, the self made woman warrior who is no obedient soldier, but rather a self directed tool of destruction used in defense of those who cannot defend themselves. Women do not have to accept the patriarchal designations of maiden, mother, and crone. Indeed, while these three roles are always options, women have many other choices. The theme of my fourth decade was autonomy. Time passed and I grew.
One thing is clear from all I have written. Standing at the beginning of a decade offers little hope of seeing what will transpire in the ten years to follow. I have goals; I have aspirations, and I have no way of knowing which ones will flower and which will die barely sprouted. I know this about myself- I am always changing. In ten years, I will be something more and different than I am now. What, exactly, will take that long to discover. I might be an internationally recognized builder of labyrinths, a published author with a wide following, a famous artist, or all of these, or none of these. I plan to make the theme of my fifth decade accomplishment.
I am forty, now. In these four short decades, the world has become so much more and less, so different in the realm of man, so damaged in the realm of nature. What will the world look like by the time my life comes to an end? Will there be polar bears or ice caps or keyboards? Likely these will be things of the past, replaced with floating gardens near the polar zones where the weather is something the plants can survive, and voice recognition software for interactive processor implants... I don't know. I know this- time will pass, and I will continue to grow.
Namaste,
Crow
My second decade started in Clovis, a suburb of Fresno and an agricultural town in the heart of the frying pan known as the San Joaquin Valley. I spent all summer in the swimming pool of our apartment complex, only coming back to the apartment for food or sleep. (This is only a mild exaggeration...) During the school year I alternately delighted my teachers with brilliant aptitude and drove them mad with willful disobedience. It was a good balance. I studied music in the form of choir and clarinet, which have influenced the whole rest of my life. I express humble and lasting gratitude for the teaching and dedication of Mr. Bird. I ran cross country and track with prodigal success. I learned to love nature and the wilderness on backpacking and camping trips to the many state and national forests in California. This my father did right. I observed the many reasons why perpetual journeys into drunkeness and marijuana induced idiocy were a bad plan. Many thanks to my uncle and father for their fine counterexample. To this day, I am completely uninterested in alcohol or recreational drugs. My mother had finally divorced my father, and sheltered two of my siblings in southern California. I conspired with my remaining brother, Jack, to hide our indiscretions from our father, mostly with nominal success. The theme of my second decade was discernment. Time passed and I grew.
By the start of my third decade, I had left California far behind. I lived in scenic Rockport, Massachusetts with my third great love and our cats. There was a lovely wholeness to that existence, a sufficiency that kept us on an even keel for a long time. We both found enough joy to need no other friends. I'm still surprised by this, in hindsight, though at the time, it bore no scrutiny. I worked for a motivational speaker named Richard Tosti, who showed me many new ideas, and taught me that the message and the messenger are not necessarily the same. I still studied, though my abortive attempts at formal education had clarified that it would likely never be a good fit for me. Instead, I read voraciously. I traveled the little walked pathways of mysticism, journeying steadily toward New Age culture while maintaining a discerning eye and a skeptical mind. I progressed through a Course in Miracles. I minimized the impact of normalcy by reading lots of fantasy and science fiction. I played tabletop role playing games with anyone I could find. I am immensely grateful for the strength of my imagination. The theme of my third decade was exploration. I grew and time passed.
The beginning of fourth decade found me back in California. My third love had passed out of my life, lost in the journey through parenthood. Take heed- those waters remain rocky for those unfinished in their own growth. I had adapted to the best of my abilities, learned to love Texas, found purpose in self manifestation, and gained strength and courage while working for the San Marcos Fire Department. My first son Robby was six, and he stayed in Texas with his father while I went to California to study. I learned two things- how to engage in violence and how to engage in healing. Both important in their own times. I also found my fourth great love, and made him central to my reality. I met cherished friends, full of humor and grace. I especially honor Evan Ten Brink, who showed me true generosity and the meaning of pay it forward, long before the movie came to the screen. I partook of Wymyn's community, knowing that I was only a visitor, and cherishing the things I learned that I would someday bring home to share with similar gatherings in Texas. Especially the concept of Amazon, the self made woman warrior who is no obedient soldier, but rather a self directed tool of destruction used in defense of those who cannot defend themselves. Women do not have to accept the patriarchal designations of maiden, mother, and crone. Indeed, while these three roles are always options, women have many other choices. The theme of my fourth decade was autonomy. Time passed and I grew.
One thing is clear from all I have written. Standing at the beginning of a decade offers little hope of seeing what will transpire in the ten years to follow. I have goals; I have aspirations, and I have no way of knowing which ones will flower and which will die barely sprouted. I know this about myself- I am always changing. In ten years, I will be something more and different than I am now. What, exactly, will take that long to discover. I might be an internationally recognized builder of labyrinths, a published author with a wide following, a famous artist, or all of these, or none of these. I plan to make the theme of my fifth decade accomplishment.
I am forty, now. In these four short decades, the world has become so much more and less, so different in the realm of man, so damaged in the realm of nature. What will the world look like by the time my life comes to an end? Will there be polar bears or ice caps or keyboards? Likely these will be things of the past, replaced with floating gardens near the polar zones where the weather is something the plants can survive, and voice recognition software for interactive processor implants... I don't know. I know this- time will pass, and I will continue to grow.
Namaste,
Crow
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Evolution and Pacing
I keep thinking that I'm coming to a resting point, that the frenetic pace of my growth and transformation will abate. Then I go do something supposedly restful and find myself further accelerated. Like riding a motorcycle at 95 miles per hour, like giving myself to the eight foot waves of a stormy Pacific, I am riding the immense power, delicately balanced between flight and destruction.
My teachers are climbing out of the woodwork. My young helper for masonry, my fellow Zaadster with a strong penchant for community, my son and his video game, the new/old friend I met last night who knows the relationship between tantra and the Qabbalah. Rest is apparently something I'm not yet needing.
Omalika is an amazing creature. He's nearly eighteen, going on twelve at times, going on sixty at others. He was born in Hawaii to a mother who is willfully independent, hailing from a well to do family in Taiwan. He was un-schooled and organically grown, which may well account for his balance of wisdom and practicality. His Aunt has been in a coma for forty years, outliving both her parents and bringing to light some of the failings of Taiwan's medical institutions. (This link will clarify that story, if you are interested~
www2.unescobkk.org/eubios/ABC4/abc4099.htm ) His family reality is complex, to say the least. He has a very generous heart, and an eye for perfection that delights me when we work on masonry together. He brings me movies and anime that range from beautiful and depressing to gentle and whimsical. I appreciate him more all the time, especially for his ability to bring laughter to our work.
Frank is a gem of a human being. He is a remarkable blend of extrovert and self sufficiency. No flashiness or need to be seen. He is genuinely attuned to the needs of others, and thinks outwardly all the time. He also has a talent for trusting the process and saying what he's hearing, even if it doesn't make sense to him. It always makes sense to me, and it's usually exactly what I need to hear. He is a brilliant prosperity coach, and if you seek such guidance, you can contact him via his website~
http://www.frankbutterfield.us/
I'm so lucky to have found him, here and now, when I need a wise and stable ear for some of my trials, a companion for spiritual adventure, and a friend with excellent integrity and humor.
Zander is as delightful as ever. We have been easy on each other from the start, which I have always appreciated, since Robby and I are like oil and water. Having a difficult first parenting experience makes it very easy to be grateful for the easy one that follows. Of course, I can see the ways that I made things worse between Robby and I, and I learn from those errors, determined not to repeat my mistakes with Zander. Lately, we have embarked on a quest of mythic proportions, at least in cyberspace. Our alternate reality of choice is called Dragonquest 8. And perhaps it is where I take my rest. The quest is simple, the dangers are manageable, the resources are plentiful, and every problem has a solution. Not very much like reality as I have known it. And very much like reality as I have known it. Hmm, opposite but true. I guess it depends on my outlook at the time.
I attended a feast for those who choose live foods, last night. It was a delight, and a bit overwhelming, with so many new faces, so many powerful presences. I enjoyed the food and the connections. I was careful not to let myself be overwhelmed by the currents of energy. I plan to attend again, next month. There was a presentation, and the teacher and I had good rapport. Later we sat on the Greenbrier labyrinth, which is happily located near the potluck site. She also supports me in my vision of becoming whole and empowered. Life is generous, indeed.
Namaste,
Crow
My teachers are climbing out of the woodwork. My young helper for masonry, my fellow Zaadster with a strong penchant for community, my son and his video game, the new/old friend I met last night who knows the relationship between tantra and the Qabbalah. Rest is apparently something I'm not yet needing.
Omalika is an amazing creature. He's nearly eighteen, going on twelve at times, going on sixty at others. He was born in Hawaii to a mother who is willfully independent, hailing from a well to do family in Taiwan. He was un-schooled and organically grown, which may well account for his balance of wisdom and practicality. His Aunt has been in a coma for forty years, outliving both her parents and bringing to light some of the failings of Taiwan's medical institutions. (This link will clarify that story, if you are interested~
www2.unescobkk.org/eubios/ABC4/abc4099.htm ) His family reality is complex, to say the least. He has a very generous heart, and an eye for perfection that delights me when we work on masonry together. He brings me movies and anime that range from beautiful and depressing to gentle and whimsical. I appreciate him more all the time, especially for his ability to bring laughter to our work.
Frank is a gem of a human being. He is a remarkable blend of extrovert and self sufficiency. No flashiness or need to be seen. He is genuinely attuned to the needs of others, and thinks outwardly all the time. He also has a talent for trusting the process and saying what he's hearing, even if it doesn't make sense to him. It always makes sense to me, and it's usually exactly what I need to hear. He is a brilliant prosperity coach, and if you seek such guidance, you can contact him via his website~
http://www.frankbutterfield.us/
I'm so lucky to have found him, here and now, when I need a wise and stable ear for some of my trials, a companion for spiritual adventure, and a friend with excellent integrity and humor.
Zander is as delightful as ever. We have been easy on each other from the start, which I have always appreciated, since Robby and I are like oil and water. Having a difficult first parenting experience makes it very easy to be grateful for the easy one that follows. Of course, I can see the ways that I made things worse between Robby and I, and I learn from those errors, determined not to repeat my mistakes with Zander. Lately, we have embarked on a quest of mythic proportions, at least in cyberspace. Our alternate reality of choice is called Dragonquest 8. And perhaps it is where I take my rest. The quest is simple, the dangers are manageable, the resources are plentiful, and every problem has a solution. Not very much like reality as I have known it. And very much like reality as I have known it. Hmm, opposite but true. I guess it depends on my outlook at the time.
I attended a feast for those who choose live foods, last night. It was a delight, and a bit overwhelming, with so many new faces, so many powerful presences. I enjoyed the food and the connections. I was careful not to let myself be overwhelmed by the currents of energy. I plan to attend again, next month. There was a presentation, and the teacher and I had good rapport. Later we sat on the Greenbrier labyrinth, which is happily located near the potluck site. She also supports me in my vision of becoming whole and empowered. Life is generous, indeed.
Namaste,
Crow
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Into the Crystal Cave
Glastonbury Tor is considered by most who've studied these things to be the actual Isle of Avalon. In times past, there was tidal marsh all around the hills, which gave rise to mists that shrouded the Tor from view. The clear days would reveal a still surface of water that reflected the sky. It looked like an island floating on glass, thus the name- Glass Town Burrough.
Avalon is rich with mythical history. Arthur receives his sword here, Merlin studies magik, the mourning Joseph of Arimathea guides his followers across all of Southern England by following sacred signs to arrive at nearby Wearyall Hill. There he plants his staff and it grows into a tree. The Tor iteslf is hollow in many of these myths, home to the fey and to the morrigan, the nine wise women who may or may not have descended from the refugees from Knossos.
I am aware of these things as I walk, and I learn from Brian that there are actual limestone hollows that are accessed by a tunnel on the norhtern face of the hill by the local water company. We have walked for nearly six hours, now, and we've reached the final circuit. Some who walk continue around the south edge of the hill and onto the top, to enter the center of the labyrinth in a traditional manner, by being surrounded by the circuits that have just been walked. I feel certain that the center of this labyrinth is actually deep in the heart of this unusal place, and I'm pleased to learn that my guide agrees.
We stop our journey at a large stone under a lonely tree. It's a huge oval of iron ore, like the egg of a dragon, like an anchor to which one might attach for descent into the dark unknown. On the ridge above me, a single crow watches as we arrive. I sit there, wearing a blindfold to keep the distractions to a minimum, and Brian guides me in meditation as I complete my journey etherically. Stairs down, and a turn, and stairs again. A whole labyrinth of downward inward turnings, and finally an entrance to a cavern that shines with light from the open roof.
Nine thrones in a semi circle, and nine cloaked and hooded forms await me. I enter with hesitation, having come so far, yet still subject to awe. The form in the center stands and beckons, and I answer by drawing near. She embraces me and speaks gentle words of welcome. Then she tells me, "You are my messenger." I am surprised. She nods gently, assuring me that I heard right, that she spoke as she intended, that there is no error. Her sisters rise laughing, dancing, transforming into crows, and flying away through the open roof. She changes, too, and is gone. For the briefest moment, I realize that I could fly with them. Then I return to my human state of being, and turn to walk out.
The crystalline labyrinth is easier going up, though, contrary to the laws of gravity, but in accordance to the will of the morrigan. I blink in the light of the outer day. Brian offers me a pouch, and tells me to draw a card. I reach in, trusting, and draw one. As I turn it over, he tells me, "This is your path." The card is the High Priestess.
I feel frightened by the calling, grateful for the opportunity, affirmed in my journey, and startled without being surprised. I understand why I'm restructuring my whole life, too. I'm nearly done with my human obligations. I have a commitment to keep with Alexander, and that's all. For myself, and for my journey, there needs to be a clarity and simplicity that comes with relative solitude. I'm moving toward making my spiritual commitments my only commitments.
Seven circuits in six hours, and a pause for the journey inward. Half the day is gone, and we have a long walk home. We begin outward. The movement is easy, high on the Tor, because the circuits are smaller. We've barely gone half a circuit, when I see Brian pause. At his feet is a perfect four-leaf clover. I'm delighted for him. But he plucks it and hands it over, "This is for you." I'm delighted for me, for the instant, then I realize the difficulties I will face if I come home with a four leaf clover for myself and none for Zander.
Almost immediately, my eyes are drawn downward. And in cheerful benediction, the fey present me with another four leaf clover... Acres of hillside, sprawling with nettles and thistles and grass and wildflowers. We land in the patch of clover that has two anomolies. I can almost hear them laughing. Now I have one for me and one for Zander. Then Brian points out that we're off the path, and as we return, it seems clear that we were taken on our little side journey on purpose.
And isn't every little side journey on purpose? My little side journey to Wales, my little side journeys into firefighting, body guard work, chauffering, my little side journey as a domestic goddess, my little side journey into parenthood for nigh two decades... I dig for deep purposes, and I smile at the obvious ones. Life is so generous, the universe so loving, my blessing so many.
Namaste,
Crow
Avalon is rich with mythical history. Arthur receives his sword here, Merlin studies magik, the mourning Joseph of Arimathea guides his followers across all of Southern England by following sacred signs to arrive at nearby Wearyall Hill. There he plants his staff and it grows into a tree. The Tor iteslf is hollow in many of these myths, home to the fey and to the morrigan, the nine wise women who may or may not have descended from the refugees from Knossos.
I am aware of these things as I walk, and I learn from Brian that there are actual limestone hollows that are accessed by a tunnel on the norhtern face of the hill by the local water company. We have walked for nearly six hours, now, and we've reached the final circuit. Some who walk continue around the south edge of the hill and onto the top, to enter the center of the labyrinth in a traditional manner, by being surrounded by the circuits that have just been walked. I feel certain that the center of this labyrinth is actually deep in the heart of this unusal place, and I'm pleased to learn that my guide agrees.
We stop our journey at a large stone under a lonely tree. It's a huge oval of iron ore, like the egg of a dragon, like an anchor to which one might attach for descent into the dark unknown. On the ridge above me, a single crow watches as we arrive. I sit there, wearing a blindfold to keep the distractions to a minimum, and Brian guides me in meditation as I complete my journey etherically. Stairs down, and a turn, and stairs again. A whole labyrinth of downward inward turnings, and finally an entrance to a cavern that shines with light from the open roof.
Nine thrones in a semi circle, and nine cloaked and hooded forms await me. I enter with hesitation, having come so far, yet still subject to awe. The form in the center stands and beckons, and I answer by drawing near. She embraces me and speaks gentle words of welcome. Then she tells me, "You are my messenger." I am surprised. She nods gently, assuring me that I heard right, that she spoke as she intended, that there is no error. Her sisters rise laughing, dancing, transforming into crows, and flying away through the open roof. She changes, too, and is gone. For the briefest moment, I realize that I could fly with them. Then I return to my human state of being, and turn to walk out.
The crystalline labyrinth is easier going up, though, contrary to the laws of gravity, but in accordance to the will of the morrigan. I blink in the light of the outer day. Brian offers me a pouch, and tells me to draw a card. I reach in, trusting, and draw one. As I turn it over, he tells me, "This is your path." The card is the High Priestess.
I feel frightened by the calling, grateful for the opportunity, affirmed in my journey, and startled without being surprised. I understand why I'm restructuring my whole life, too. I'm nearly done with my human obligations. I have a commitment to keep with Alexander, and that's all. For myself, and for my journey, there needs to be a clarity and simplicity that comes with relative solitude. I'm moving toward making my spiritual commitments my only commitments.
Seven circuits in six hours, and a pause for the journey inward. Half the day is gone, and we have a long walk home. We begin outward. The movement is easy, high on the Tor, because the circuits are smaller. We've barely gone half a circuit, when I see Brian pause. At his feet is a perfect four-leaf clover. I'm delighted for him. But he plucks it and hands it over, "This is for you." I'm delighted for me, for the instant, then I realize the difficulties I will face if I come home with a four leaf clover for myself and none for Zander.
Almost immediately, my eyes are drawn downward. And in cheerful benediction, the fey present me with another four leaf clover... Acres of hillside, sprawling with nettles and thistles and grass and wildflowers. We land in the patch of clover that has two anomolies. I can almost hear them laughing. Now I have one for me and one for Zander. Then Brian points out that we're off the path, and as we return, it seems clear that we were taken on our little side journey on purpose.
And isn't every little side journey on purpose? My little side journey to Wales, my little side journeys into firefighting, body guard work, chauffering, my little side journey as a domestic goddess, my little side journey into parenthood for nigh two decades... I dig for deep purposes, and I smile at the obvious ones. Life is so generous, the universe so loving, my blessing so many.
Namaste,
Crow
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
At One with the Tor
England in the Spring is very green. The blossoming trees leave sensual trails of scent in the cool, moist air. The natives think it's hot, but I am more than comfortable, since the low in Texas is the high in England. I get a ride most of the way to the Tor. I'm going to walk all day, after all, so I might as well save my energy.
I arrive a little early. I drink from the red spring and the white, knowing that in times past, there was a sacred grove where the two spirigs mingled their waters. There are travellers there, washing their dishes, watering their horses, shouting expletives at each other. As if they never heard that these are healing waters. I wait. My feet chafe in my boots, wanting freedom. I usually go barefoot, except when either required by law or faced with overwhelming pain potential.
The Tor is rife with thistles and nettles. For my fellow Texans, who've never seen a nettle, I will explain. The nettle, while still green, has many fine, sharp, hollow thorns covering the underside of every leaf, and fuzzing every stem. Whenever something brushes against these, they inject formic acid, which stings and swells. It's the same toxin fire ants use... only the nettle can sting you fifteen times in an instant.
So I'm torn. Now, more than ever, on sacred journey, I want to be in touch with the ground I walk. And I want to have feet when I'm done, not just masses of painful blisters! My guide arrives, a deceptively unobtrusive man, and we walk together to where the Tor labyrinth begins. I notice he is wearing sandals. When I bring it up, he says he walks the Tor barefoot.
Big sigh of relief. I strip off my boots and socks. My feet revel in their freedom. I also feel confident, now, that my guide and I will get along fine. I pay him up front so we can focus on the journey without distraction. If you ever want to go walk the Tor labyrinth, I suggest hiring a guide. There are several available. I walked with Brian Charles, and he earned his fee twice over. You can learn more about him at these links-
http://www.briancharles.co.uk
http://www.goddesstemple.co.uk
The circuits of a labyrinth are numbered from the outside to the center, and the labyrinth on Glastonbury Tor is a classical seven circuit. (Whether it was built for that purpose is an irrelevant discussion, to me. What matters is that it is so walked today, and a place walked as a labyrinth is a labyrinth.) So, true to the pattern, we begin at the third circuit. There is a smallish standing stone to mark the place, and a thoughtfully placed bench.
The seven sircuits of the labyrinth can esaily be related to the seven primary chakras. You begin with choice, the third chakra being the power center. Within ten paces, I've started crying, mourning for events that have not yet occured, but that I see with perfect clarity. All the little considerations that clouded my thinking are stripped away. And I see that I'm leaving Jeff already, preparing myself for that ending. That I will overcome whatever imaginary obstacles remain in short order, and our marriage is ending. As I stand on this path, knowing that there is much yet to walk, but also knowing that the destination is fixed, so I see that my choice is already made elsewhere, and I must find my way through the curcuitous path to the destination I have chosen. To transform the tears, I reach for sacred song, setting the precedent of singing a different sacred song for each circuit.
Madre del Mundo, Reyna de los Cielos,
Luz Infinita, Madre Celestial
Cuidanos siempre, guya nuestros pasos,
En el sendero de Tu gran Amor
Madre del Mundo, Reyna de los Cielos,
Luz Infinita, Madre Celestial
Ensena la manera de vivir en paz
Y llevanos siempre en Tu Corazon
Mother of the World, Queen of the Heavens,
Infinite Light, Celestial Mother
Care for us always, Guide our footsteps
On the path of Your great Love
Mother of the World, Queen of the Heavens,
Infinite Light, Celestial Mother
Show us the way, the way to live in peace,
And carry us always in Your Heart
Many thanks to Sue Young for writing these words and the inspired music that goes with them.
Each of the outer circuits takes us close to an hour. There are hundreds of rabbits and rabbit holes. There is evidence of hawks and foxes coming to the feast. The jackdaws and crows soar on the updrafts as the sun shines down through the hazy, high clouds. The base of the Tor is ringed in with trees, but the higher you get, the more rare the shade becomes.
On the second circuit, we pause for strawberries and chocolate. The second chakra is about joy and pleasure, after all. Brian Joins me in singing a familiar chant by Starhawk. The first circuit is absolutely dense with nettles. We plucked a few dock leaves for stings, but so far we haven't needed them. Now the way seems impassable. I consider putting my boots back on. (For those who know me, this is a very clear description of how dangerous the path appeared.)
I look more carefully, though, and it seems there might be a way through. I decide to risk it. I step and step again, leaning away from the reaching leaves. And twenty yards of nettle jungle later, I haven't been stung once. It's a miracle! A miracle that I will repeat fifteen times this day. The only stings I got were when I was off course.
There are many things that I learn on the Tor. This lesson came from the nettles. No Matter How Dangerous the Way May Appear, There Is a Safe Passage For Those Committed to Walking Their True Path.
Namaste,
Crow
I arrive a little early. I drink from the red spring and the white, knowing that in times past, there was a sacred grove where the two spirigs mingled their waters. There are travellers there, washing their dishes, watering their horses, shouting expletives at each other. As if they never heard that these are healing waters. I wait. My feet chafe in my boots, wanting freedom. I usually go barefoot, except when either required by law or faced with overwhelming pain potential.
The Tor is rife with thistles and nettles. For my fellow Texans, who've never seen a nettle, I will explain. The nettle, while still green, has many fine, sharp, hollow thorns covering the underside of every leaf, and fuzzing every stem. Whenever something brushes against these, they inject formic acid, which stings and swells. It's the same toxin fire ants use... only the nettle can sting you fifteen times in an instant.
So I'm torn. Now, more than ever, on sacred journey, I want to be in touch with the ground I walk. And I want to have feet when I'm done, not just masses of painful blisters! My guide arrives, a deceptively unobtrusive man, and we walk together to where the Tor labyrinth begins. I notice he is wearing sandals. When I bring it up, he says he walks the Tor barefoot.
Big sigh of relief. I strip off my boots and socks. My feet revel in their freedom. I also feel confident, now, that my guide and I will get along fine. I pay him up front so we can focus on the journey without distraction. If you ever want to go walk the Tor labyrinth, I suggest hiring a guide. There are several available. I walked with Brian Charles, and he earned his fee twice over. You can learn more about him at these links-
http://www.briancharles.co.uk
http://www.goddesstemple.co.uk
The circuits of a labyrinth are numbered from the outside to the center, and the labyrinth on Glastonbury Tor is a classical seven circuit. (Whether it was built for that purpose is an irrelevant discussion, to me. What matters is that it is so walked today, and a place walked as a labyrinth is a labyrinth.) So, true to the pattern, we begin at the third circuit. There is a smallish standing stone to mark the place, and a thoughtfully placed bench.
The seven sircuits of the labyrinth can esaily be related to the seven primary chakras. You begin with choice, the third chakra being the power center. Within ten paces, I've started crying, mourning for events that have not yet occured, but that I see with perfect clarity. All the little considerations that clouded my thinking are stripped away. And I see that I'm leaving Jeff already, preparing myself for that ending. That I will overcome whatever imaginary obstacles remain in short order, and our marriage is ending. As I stand on this path, knowing that there is much yet to walk, but also knowing that the destination is fixed, so I see that my choice is already made elsewhere, and I must find my way through the curcuitous path to the destination I have chosen. To transform the tears, I reach for sacred song, setting the precedent of singing a different sacred song for each circuit.
Madre del Mundo, Reyna de los Cielos,
Luz Infinita, Madre Celestial
Cuidanos siempre, guya nuestros pasos,
En el sendero de Tu gran Amor
Madre del Mundo, Reyna de los Cielos,
Luz Infinita, Madre Celestial
Ensena la manera de vivir en paz
Y llevanos siempre en Tu Corazon
Mother of the World, Queen of the Heavens,
Infinite Light, Celestial Mother
Care for us always, Guide our footsteps
On the path of Your great Love
Mother of the World, Queen of the Heavens,
Infinite Light, Celestial Mother
Show us the way, the way to live in peace,
And carry us always in Your Heart
Many thanks to Sue Young for writing these words and the inspired music that goes with them.
Each of the outer circuits takes us close to an hour. There are hundreds of rabbits and rabbit holes. There is evidence of hawks and foxes coming to the feast. The jackdaws and crows soar on the updrafts as the sun shines down through the hazy, high clouds. The base of the Tor is ringed in with trees, but the higher you get, the more rare the shade becomes.
On the second circuit, we pause for strawberries and chocolate. The second chakra is about joy and pleasure, after all. Brian Joins me in singing a familiar chant by Starhawk. The first circuit is absolutely dense with nettles. We plucked a few dock leaves for stings, but so far we haven't needed them. Now the way seems impassable. I consider putting my boots back on. (For those who know me, this is a very clear description of how dangerous the path appeared.)
I look more carefully, though, and it seems there might be a way through. I decide to risk it. I step and step again, leaning away from the reaching leaves. And twenty yards of nettle jungle later, I haven't been stung once. It's a miracle! A miracle that I will repeat fifteen times this day. The only stings I got were when I was off course.
There are many things that I learn on the Tor. This lesson came from the nettles. No Matter How Dangerous the Way May Appear, There Is a Safe Passage For Those Committed to Walking Their True Path.
Namaste,
Crow
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Megalithic Efficiency
The thing I loved most about visiting sacred sites in Britain was my guide. Jon has spent some time studying and understanding the traditions behind the megelithic structures, right down to why the inner ring of Stonehenge is built of a Welsh stone but located in Southern England. It had to be moved when the original builders added the outer ring, because the original location was too far north for the new sightings, and moving straight south would have been into the ocean... Anyway, that's another discussion, entirely.
My favorite new idea is connected to the cycle of the sun, as it appears from earth to swing to the north in summer and back to the south in winter. The sky has always been the steadiest phenomenon that we can observe from earth. And the predictable swing of declination is a natural and obvious way to mark the turning of the years, especially for ancient peoples, who spent so much more of their life immersed in their natural environment.
In the diagram below, the red 'x' is where a person might stand, and the yellow circles represent sunrise and sunset at different times of year. The lines that cross through the whole image are sighting lines, and the blue shapes are our imaginary stones. This is where we start paying attention to efficient thinking, because we sure don't want to move these twelve-ton monsters twice.
Having taken the time to observe for a year or more as the sun swings in its predictable pattern, our imaginary priestess has marked the points of highest and lowest declination. And being such a clever girl, she has also deduced that these points represent the height of summer and the longest night of winter. Now she wants to mark these special points for future generations. So she calls council, and the tribe prepares for some intense community effort. They choose four stones, large and slow wearing, but not any particular shape, and they drag them into position.
My favorite new idea is connected to the cycle of the sun, as it appears from earth to swing to the north in summer and back to the south in winter. The sky has always been the steadiest phenomenon that we can observe from earth. And the predictable swing of declination is a natural and obvious way to mark the turning of the years, especially for ancient peoples, who spent so much more of their life immersed in their natural environment.
In the diagram below, the red 'x' is where a person might stand, and the yellow circles represent sunrise and sunset at different times of year. The lines that cross through the whole image are sighting lines, and the blue shapes are our imaginary stones. This is where we start paying attention to efficient thinking, because we sure don't want to move these twelve-ton monsters twice.
Having taken the time to observe for a year or more as the sun swings in its predictable pattern, our imaginary priestess has marked the points of highest and lowest declination. And being such a clever girl, she has also deduced that these points represent the height of summer and the longest night of winter. Now she wants to mark these special points for future generations. So she calls council, and the tribe prepares for some intense community effort. They choose four stones, large and slow wearing, but not any particular shape, and they drag them into position.
Now for the elegance of it. Whatever size the cross section of the stones, they will serve our priestess's purpose. All she does is sight along her markers and make certain that the edges of the stones just touch the lines of sight. Big stones go farther out, little stones go closer to center, wherever they need to be to touch the lines. Four stones! The village groans, but band together for the sake of posterity. And soon, they are set just so.
Then our priestess points out the perfection of her design. With just these four stones, they can mark sunset and sunrise for all four of the major turnings of the year. Four stones, eight time markers. By standing outside all four stones and sighting back through them, each special sunrise and sunset is given a narrow window of display.
Standing southwest of stone B and looking back toward our center mark, you can see only stones and a tiny sliver of sky. That sliver is where the sun will rise on summer solstice. And so forth with the other solar events.
I so look forward to recreating this. Do you own a piece of land with a good view of the horizon? Do you want to mark the turning of the seasons with stones or sculpture? I'm your girl!
Namaste,
Crow
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Swimming Deep in the Current
For two and a half months, I have been so incredibly deep in process. It has been extreme, intense, transformative... I could go on with superlatives. Oh, man. I could have posted a hundred things. I have been in it, living it. No chance to step back and write about it. Finally though, I'm slowing down and I plan to do my best to catch up. Here, I'll just catalog some of the main events of my summer. Later, I'll try to cover each one in more depth.
In Wales, I did indeed go to sacred sites. I visited Stonehenge, Avebury, West Kennet Long Barrow, and Aurthur's Stone. I left offerings to the fey in three places. I walked the Glastonbury Tor Labyrinth. I received the blessing of the Morrigan. I received not one but two four leaf clovers. I walked barefoot the whole time through nettles and thisles, and only got stung a few times in twelve hours. My guide, a wonderful devotee of the Goddess in British Isles tradition, guided me through a vision to my true path.
I celebrated the minimum moon on a Welsch beach with my magical son. The goddess is on the rise again. I made it home and found that the labyrinth had continued to grow while I was gone. We built and built and it still wasn't finished. Zander and I went to a dowsing conference, and shared space with dozens of special spirits. He learned how to bend spoons. I learned to dowse for the Tree of Life. He made friends with some great dowsers. I built a labyrinth on the beach with several other dowsers.
I facilitated the departure of our housemates. They've both moved to a mobile home I own in a nearby town. I first bought it way back when I was a firefighter. They're doing a great job fixing it up and making it their own. Plans are in the works to get things straightened out so they can buy it. I'll be finished with it, and they'll have a place of their own. Win-win.
Zander and I ate at a vegan restaurant in Santa Cruz, and the food was so good that I was inspired to go all raw. Over the last five weeks, I've learned dozens of new recipes, I've transformed my whole kitchen for my new food practices. My skin, which has been troubled since I was a teenager, is clear for the first time in my life.
I found the courage to tell my husband that I needed to stop being married. He is a good man, kind and generous and loving, and I have a different path. I'm glad that I have the awareness to leave him without being hurtful or laying blame. I've moved to the other end of the house and started making my space my own.
I finished the Greenbrier Labyrinth. It looks better than I had hoped. It took way longer than I like, but it's done, and I only paid a little for the privelege of building it. I can say that I built the first Labyrinth in a public park in Austin Texas. I met with a fellow devotee of Sacred Geometry, and felt my network of magical insights strengthen.
I had a series of powerful and revelatory dreams. I learned that I have some mythical underpinnings for my life and its resonant cycles. I am a fire horse woman. I made myself more visible on the net, found amazing new friends, got support in transformation. I let go of the image of Jesus on the cross and transformed him into the shining saint he ought to be. I welcomed fiery Pele into my subconscious and superconscious, bringing light and life to a place of suffering. I went to my favorite church, the First Spiritualist Church of Austin, and got excellent confirmation of my progress.
I started a new work project, working with a beautiful new stone. I put on a great birthday party for Zander, set up his pool for his guests, helped assemble his new trampoline, and baked him an all raw chocolate cake that he liked. I made better connections to the elders available to me. I felt little surprise when my father came into my life with demands and judgments, and little surprise when he made a hasty departure because I didn't meet his expectaions.
I'm in preparations for Zander's initiation, to fulfill a promise to the Green Man for when Zander was four years old and very ill. In vision quest, I met with the Growing One himself, and he promised to heal Zander in return for his service later in life. At the time, I was concerned that I was promising something for someone else, and what if Zander didn't want to keep that end of the bargain? I needn't have worried. Zander loves the growing things. We had a tree fall in the yard over the weekend. Zander went to it and gave it a hug and told it sorry.
Every sentence above could easily be expounded upon to fill a whole post on its own. It's been ten weeks of magic and beauty and miracles. I'm looking forward to more.
Namaste,
Crow
In Wales, I did indeed go to sacred sites. I visited Stonehenge, Avebury, West Kennet Long Barrow, and Aurthur's Stone. I left offerings to the fey in three places. I walked the Glastonbury Tor Labyrinth. I received the blessing of the Morrigan. I received not one but two four leaf clovers. I walked barefoot the whole time through nettles and thisles, and only got stung a few times in twelve hours. My guide, a wonderful devotee of the Goddess in British Isles tradition, guided me through a vision to my true path.
I celebrated the minimum moon on a Welsch beach with my magical son. The goddess is on the rise again. I made it home and found that the labyrinth had continued to grow while I was gone. We built and built and it still wasn't finished. Zander and I went to a dowsing conference, and shared space with dozens of special spirits. He learned how to bend spoons. I learned to dowse for the Tree of Life. He made friends with some great dowsers. I built a labyrinth on the beach with several other dowsers.
I facilitated the departure of our housemates. They've both moved to a mobile home I own in a nearby town. I first bought it way back when I was a firefighter. They're doing a great job fixing it up and making it their own. Plans are in the works to get things straightened out so they can buy it. I'll be finished with it, and they'll have a place of their own. Win-win.
Zander and I ate at a vegan restaurant in Santa Cruz, and the food was so good that I was inspired to go all raw. Over the last five weeks, I've learned dozens of new recipes, I've transformed my whole kitchen for my new food practices. My skin, which has been troubled since I was a teenager, is clear for the first time in my life.
I found the courage to tell my husband that I needed to stop being married. He is a good man, kind and generous and loving, and I have a different path. I'm glad that I have the awareness to leave him without being hurtful or laying blame. I've moved to the other end of the house and started making my space my own.
I finished the Greenbrier Labyrinth. It looks better than I had hoped. It took way longer than I like, but it's done, and I only paid a little for the privelege of building it. I can say that I built the first Labyrinth in a public park in Austin Texas. I met with a fellow devotee of Sacred Geometry, and felt my network of magical insights strengthen.
I had a series of powerful and revelatory dreams. I learned that I have some mythical underpinnings for my life and its resonant cycles. I am a fire horse woman. I made myself more visible on the net, found amazing new friends, got support in transformation. I let go of the image of Jesus on the cross and transformed him into the shining saint he ought to be. I welcomed fiery Pele into my subconscious and superconscious, bringing light and life to a place of suffering. I went to my favorite church, the First Spiritualist Church of Austin, and got excellent confirmation of my progress.
I started a new work project, working with a beautiful new stone. I put on a great birthday party for Zander, set up his pool for his guests, helped assemble his new trampoline, and baked him an all raw chocolate cake that he liked. I made better connections to the elders available to me. I felt little surprise when my father came into my life with demands and judgments, and little surprise when he made a hasty departure because I didn't meet his expectaions.
I'm in preparations for Zander's initiation, to fulfill a promise to the Green Man for when Zander was four years old and very ill. In vision quest, I met with the Growing One himself, and he promised to heal Zander in return for his service later in life. At the time, I was concerned that I was promising something for someone else, and what if Zander didn't want to keep that end of the bargain? I needn't have worried. Zander loves the growing things. We had a tree fall in the yard over the weekend. Zander went to it and gave it a hug and told it sorry.
Every sentence above could easily be expounded upon to fill a whole post on its own. It's been ten weeks of magic and beauty and miracles. I'm looking forward to more.
Namaste,
Crow
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Travel Woes and Wonders
Here I am in Wales. Man, it’s beautiful! The weather is amazingly perfect, sunshine, cool breeze off the ocean, lovely stream across the street from the house where I’m staying. I’m enjoying it fully, and soaking it in as best I can. Especially since I will never return. At least not on coach class…
I have to fly home, and that’s fine, because I have plumbed the depths of my ability to put up with the unpleasant. I grew up with three equally unruly siblings. I lived with a bunch of rough edged men, one day out of three, while I was in the Fire Department. I ought to be able to put up with all kinds of shit, now. But I am very clear- taking a plane ride across the ocean in a tiny seat is voluntary torture, and I am so over it.
I am very grateful, though, that Alexander was not one of the children making large numbers of passengers unhappy. He was a real trooper. He complained, of course, but only a little more than I did. We watched Lilo and Stitch, played Crazy Eights, ate and discussed the origins of airplane food… Eventually we slept.
Between driving to the airport, taking two domestic flights with layovers and delays, an international flight across the Atlantic Ocean, standing in a customs and immigration line that made Disneyland look uncrowded, then driving again across the southern reaches of Great Britain, we actually spent a solid 28 hours travelling.
Yesterday I slept for fourteen hours, and even when I woke up, I felt half alive. Of course, having travelled and lost sleep was only gravy on my poor overstressed body. Grief and hard labor piled on top of chronic fatigue. I have truly earned this vacation.
Today, I felt much better. My son and husband and I went for a walk with my mother and her dog along a local stream. The hills rise behind her parsonage into an area of small woods and farms. We saw birds and sheep and horses, several dogs and a tiny snake. We picked up litter. We do it in the States all the time, so no change, here. (Apparently it isn’t just Americans who can disregard the sanctity of the wilderness and publicly held lands.) It was nice to walk away and leave it all clean, when it had been so trashed before we arrived.
The next week is all visiting. Two fellow labyrinthians live here, more probably, but I’ll be visiting two in particular. I’ll see Stonehenge, Avesbury, Glastobury Tor and the Chalice Well. I’ll walk the Tor Labyrinth in company with a priest of the Ancient Goddess, seeking center with deep purpose and a solemn vow to renew my own connection to deity there. Life is good.
Namaste,
Crow
I have to fly home, and that’s fine, because I have plumbed the depths of my ability to put up with the unpleasant. I grew up with three equally unruly siblings. I lived with a bunch of rough edged men, one day out of three, while I was in the Fire Department. I ought to be able to put up with all kinds of shit, now. But I am very clear- taking a plane ride across the ocean in a tiny seat is voluntary torture, and I am so over it.
I am very grateful, though, that Alexander was not one of the children making large numbers of passengers unhappy. He was a real trooper. He complained, of course, but only a little more than I did. We watched Lilo and Stitch, played Crazy Eights, ate and discussed the origins of airplane food… Eventually we slept.
Between driving to the airport, taking two domestic flights with layovers and delays, an international flight across the Atlantic Ocean, standing in a customs and immigration line that made Disneyland look uncrowded, then driving again across the southern reaches of Great Britain, we actually spent a solid 28 hours travelling.
Yesterday I slept for fourteen hours, and even when I woke up, I felt half alive. Of course, having travelled and lost sleep was only gravy on my poor overstressed body. Grief and hard labor piled on top of chronic fatigue. I have truly earned this vacation.
Today, I felt much better. My son and husband and I went for a walk with my mother and her dog along a local stream. The hills rise behind her parsonage into an area of small woods and farms. We saw birds and sheep and horses, several dogs and a tiny snake. We picked up litter. We do it in the States all the time, so no change, here. (Apparently it isn’t just Americans who can disregard the sanctity of the wilderness and publicly held lands.) It was nice to walk away and leave it all clean, when it had been so trashed before we arrived.
The next week is all visiting. Two fellow labyrinthians live here, more probably, but I’ll be visiting two in particular. I’ll see Stonehenge, Avesbury, Glastobury Tor and the Chalice Well. I’ll walk the Tor Labyrinth in company with a priest of the Ancient Goddess, seeking center with deep purpose and a solemn vow to renew my own connection to deity there. Life is good.
Namaste,
Crow
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Life and Death and Friendship
So, in the midst of trying to hurry and meet a deadline on the labyrinth, preparing to travel overseas for three weeks, meet the needs of my six year old, and learn what I need to know as a new employer, and just because the universe knows that I haven't got enough stress in my life- a friend of mine for the last fifteen years went into the hospital two weeks ago. That's Sharon above, with her husband Tom. This photo is about six months old.
I don't have any way to describe her to you. She was a magical being, full of vitality and love, genuine and gentle and joyfyul. She gave power and hope to thousands of people all over the world, quite literally. She taught in the More to Life program, a weekend course that offers insight into personal motivations, and opportunities for taking conscious control of subconscious fears. There are people who know and love Sharon on at least four continents. If she had been in service to a religion, they'd be getting ready to saint her. I'm not exaggerating.
And now she's gone on to her next adventure. I pack some toiletries, think about how to entertain Alexander for sixteen hours of travel, then sit and cry for a moment. If ever anyone lived well, it was Sharon. This grief I feel, it is a selfish thing. I want her to still be here, where I can see her smile or hear her voice.
Actually, I do have a way to describe her. The sanskrit word, 'namaste,' cannot be easily translated into English. Our culture barely has the concepts for it. Roughly, it means- that which is divine in me sees and honors and cherishes that which is divine in you. Imagine going through life in this way, being your whole self, and seeing the wholeness in others, all the time. That was Sharon. She set a magical example.
There's a memorial service, today. I can't make it, since I'll be on a plane to Wales. My mind is full of the why, though. And the what ifs- what if I had to face the sudden death of my spouse? What if I suddenly collapsed, as she did? Have I left a legacy of hope and joy? Have my good works outweighed the hurts I have offered? What can I learn from the aching empty pain in my chest?
I know this, I loved her. I honor her memory, and I hope that I can step forward and take up her vision of a whole humanity in peace and cooperation.
Namaste,
Crow
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
The Mundanely Miraculous
I am often amazed by the many small things that come together to make a functioning whole. Take driving, for instance. Most of us do it every day. How often have you stopped to notice the magic in it?
First, there are these amazing machines, a little dirty, yes, but full of inventiveness and adventure. I'm not talking about auto industry ads that portray driving across some pristine wilderness as if its a private and highly romantic moment. What a heap of dung. I'm talking about the long list of people who said, "I think I could make that better..."
We have rack and pinion steering, anti lock brakes, seat belts, air bags, automatic transmissions, overdrive, four wheel drive, more horsepower than we need, and cd players that ignore the bumps in the road. All because of the very human need to improve things. We bought a Prius. It's green, both literally and figuratively. I drove it only on side roads, one time last week. As an experiment, I drove very gently, no sudden acceleration, no powering up hills. I could go ninety percent of the time with no gasoline engine, only the batteries. How many innovators have contributed to that moment of quiet play? Hundreds, at least.
I drive an SUV, whenever I'm working. I need the ability to haul a huge trailer full of sand or soil or gravel. I got cut off, the other day, at a place where traffic merges from two lanes to one. Ticked me off, to be sure. I don't like to see the selfish and opportunistic side of my fellow humans. But I also noticed that it was the only such incident in months. Most of the time, people cooperate.
What about lane lines? That's my favorite driving miracle. It's just paint, and not that much of it. And we have this agreement, as a society, to play like they're boundaries. It works, too! Hundreds of thousands of drivers hit the central Texas highways every day. What's amazing to me is that we have so few problems. Sure, there are accidents. It seems to me, though, that there could be many more. Somewhere between self preservation and caring about others, we actually do our best to cooperate.
So next time you get behind the wheel, or sit as a passenger, glance out the window. Remind yourself of the power of human cooperation. Maybe we can start working together on bigger things.
Namaste,
Crow
First, there are these amazing machines, a little dirty, yes, but full of inventiveness and adventure. I'm not talking about auto industry ads that portray driving across some pristine wilderness as if its a private and highly romantic moment. What a heap of dung. I'm talking about the long list of people who said, "I think I could make that better..."
We have rack and pinion steering, anti lock brakes, seat belts, air bags, automatic transmissions, overdrive, four wheel drive, more horsepower than we need, and cd players that ignore the bumps in the road. All because of the very human need to improve things. We bought a Prius. It's green, both literally and figuratively. I drove it only on side roads, one time last week. As an experiment, I drove very gently, no sudden acceleration, no powering up hills. I could go ninety percent of the time with no gasoline engine, only the batteries. How many innovators have contributed to that moment of quiet play? Hundreds, at least.
I drive an SUV, whenever I'm working. I need the ability to haul a huge trailer full of sand or soil or gravel. I got cut off, the other day, at a place where traffic merges from two lanes to one. Ticked me off, to be sure. I don't like to see the selfish and opportunistic side of my fellow humans. But I also noticed that it was the only such incident in months. Most of the time, people cooperate.
What about lane lines? That's my favorite driving miracle. It's just paint, and not that much of it. And we have this agreement, as a society, to play like they're boundaries. It works, too! Hundreds of thousands of drivers hit the central Texas highways every day. What's amazing to me is that we have so few problems. Sure, there are accidents. It seems to me, though, that there could be many more. Somewhere between self preservation and caring about others, we actually do our best to cooperate.
So next time you get behind the wheel, or sit as a passenger, glance out the window. Remind yourself of the power of human cooperation. Maybe we can start working together on bigger things.
Namaste,
Crow
Thursday, May 11, 2006
A Labyrinth for Greenbriar Park
I'm constructing a stone and brick labyrinth in a public park. (If you're not familiar with the idea, you can check out the Labyrinth Society link in the sidebar.) All my labyrinth buddies agree that this is very likely the first one on city property in the wonderful city of Austin. I've been working with labyrinths for nine years, now, and I've finally crested into getting paid to do what I love. It's very gratifying.
I'm also venturing into a major construction project with a solid deadline, and the pressure I put on myself is intense. I want this labyrinth to be perfect! I want it to showcase all the skill and attention to detail that I can muster, so that people will come along and say, "Wow, this is great!" I want them to look me up and ask me to build their labyrinth. I'm learning to let go of the small stuff so the big picture can fall into place. Fretting over a half centimeter gap doesn't move me toward my goal of being finished by the end of the month.
Building a labyrinth has so many parallels to walking one. You turn about, you make good progress toward your goal, you stop and go backwards, then progress again. Like anything in life, I guess. I bought sand to have a workable base for the stones and bricks. We spread it out and it looked beautiful. We started laying the bricks, and it soon became clear that the sand wasn't deep enough. So- out come the bricks, order more sand, wait for the delivery, spread and level for a second time- a week later we start laying bricks again. Now we can do that with ease, though. Before the second load of sand, it was very difficult.
Today will be the second day of placing bricks for the second time. I hope to add three or four photos to our collection of labyrinth documentation. Every thirty five bricks or so, we take a picture. So it should unfold in digital glory, as soon as I get my website up. Every photo will be a snapshot of four hours heavy labor, though the instantaneous nature of photography will appear like a magical summoning of brickwork, jumping into perfect patterns and concentric circles. If I could do it that way, just conjure the whole thing into being, I might be tempted to skip the heavy process of lifting and digging and tamping and adjusting. I'm glad I can't, though. The work is teaching me things, and I want to keep on learning.
Namaste,
Crow
I'm also venturing into a major construction project with a solid deadline, and the pressure I put on myself is intense. I want this labyrinth to be perfect! I want it to showcase all the skill and attention to detail that I can muster, so that people will come along and say, "Wow, this is great!" I want them to look me up and ask me to build their labyrinth. I'm learning to let go of the small stuff so the big picture can fall into place. Fretting over a half centimeter gap doesn't move me toward my goal of being finished by the end of the month.
Building a labyrinth has so many parallels to walking one. You turn about, you make good progress toward your goal, you stop and go backwards, then progress again. Like anything in life, I guess. I bought sand to have a workable base for the stones and bricks. We spread it out and it looked beautiful. We started laying the bricks, and it soon became clear that the sand wasn't deep enough. So- out come the bricks, order more sand, wait for the delivery, spread and level for a second time- a week later we start laying bricks again. Now we can do that with ease, though. Before the second load of sand, it was very difficult.
Today will be the second day of placing bricks for the second time. I hope to add three or four photos to our collection of labyrinth documentation. Every thirty five bricks or so, we take a picture. So it should unfold in digital glory, as soon as I get my website up. Every photo will be a snapshot of four hours heavy labor, though the instantaneous nature of photography will appear like a magical summoning of brickwork, jumping into perfect patterns and concentric circles. If I could do it that way, just conjure the whole thing into being, I might be tempted to skip the heavy process of lifting and digging and tamping and adjusting. I'm glad I can't, though. The work is teaching me things, and I want to keep on learning.
Namaste,
Crow
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Lessons in Unconditional Love
Nearly seven years back, I gave birth for the second time. Home birth was my choice, with the best loved of my friends in attendance. We welcomed the child with ritual and celebration under the starry skies of August. We walked my home built labyrinth under the pale pink and salmon of a summer sunrise. It was all lovely, even the incredible power of the force that gripped my body as Alexander entered the world.
Ever since then, he has been my teacher. He has a wonderful open heart, and he makes friends with everyone he meets. When he was three, he learned that there was such a thing as a birthday party, and he started inviting every single person we met. At the grocery store, "You can come to my birthday party at my house in Texas." At the bank, "Can you come to my birthday party tomorrow?" At the thrift store, "I'm going to be four, and you can come to my party." Real world logistics didn't matter. That they were total strangers didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had this tremendous and unconditional love for everybody, and he wanted them to be happy and celebrate.
Today he's more sophisticated. He tells people my phone number, so they can call for directions to our home. He asks if they're going to be busy. He's very considerate. And he's just as open and loving. He's never learned to hold back or be afraid or hide his light. I hope he never does. He has even found close friendship and mourned loss in one swift afternoon.
We met another youngster while shopping for clothes. They played together for maybe 30 minutes, and then we parted ways to go try things on. When we came back out, his friend had gone. He searched the aisles fruitlessly, then broke down into some serious tears. It didn't matter to him that they had been friends for only a short time. Zander loves completely and easily, and he had shared his heart with that other youngster as naturally as puppies play together. I held him while he cried, and I tried to understand the amazing purity that he has. I am not so open, not so easily filled with love or loss. But whose is the stronger heart? The one with barriers? I think not.
I thank all the faces of deity every day for the presence of the little master in my life. I hope that one day I can return to the blessed state of openness he demonstrates for me.
Namaste,
Crow
Ever since then, he has been my teacher. He has a wonderful open heart, and he makes friends with everyone he meets. When he was three, he learned that there was such a thing as a birthday party, and he started inviting every single person we met. At the grocery store, "You can come to my birthday party at my house in Texas." At the bank, "Can you come to my birthday party tomorrow?" At the thrift store, "I'm going to be four, and you can come to my party." Real world logistics didn't matter. That they were total strangers didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had this tremendous and unconditional love for everybody, and he wanted them to be happy and celebrate.
Today he's more sophisticated. He tells people my phone number, so they can call for directions to our home. He asks if they're going to be busy. He's very considerate. And he's just as open and loving. He's never learned to hold back or be afraid or hide his light. I hope he never does. He has even found close friendship and mourned loss in one swift afternoon.
We met another youngster while shopping for clothes. They played together for maybe 30 minutes, and then we parted ways to go try things on. When we came back out, his friend had gone. He searched the aisles fruitlessly, then broke down into some serious tears. It didn't matter to him that they had been friends for only a short time. Zander loves completely and easily, and he had shared his heart with that other youngster as naturally as puppies play together. I held him while he cried, and I tried to understand the amazing purity that he has. I am not so open, not so easily filled with love or loss. But whose is the stronger heart? The one with barriers? I think not.
I thank all the faces of deity every day for the presence of the little master in my life. I hope that one day I can return to the blessed state of openness he demonstrates for me.
Namaste,
Crow
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
What's your name?
One of the questions I hear most often is, “So how did you get the name Crow?”
It’s something I chose. I have several totem animals, and the three closest to me are Horse, Cat and Crow. As time flows on, Horse has evolved into Unicorn, representing my healing work. Cat has grown to become Tiger, as I have grown in my warriorship. Crow stayed herself, placidly waiting for me to get with the program.
In Native American lore, the Crow is always curious. Once, in her quest for understanding, she aggravated her own shadow so much that it swallowed her. Having no shadow is a sign of a spirit, but Crow had not actually died. Her unique status gave her the unusual ability to travel through the veil between the worlds and listen to the song of the Great Spirit.
When Spirit took notice that Crow would return to this realm and share what she had heard, he gave her a loud voice, so that many could hear her. I believe that Crow is waiting for me, encouraging me to share my truth, as I have heard it from this world and the worlds next door. To support this stage of my growth, and knowing that it could be some time before it is complete, I have chosen to bear her name as my name.
Namaste,
L Crow Mitchell
It’s something I chose. I have several totem animals, and the three closest to me are Horse, Cat and Crow. As time flows on, Horse has evolved into Unicorn, representing my healing work. Cat has grown to become Tiger, as I have grown in my warriorship. Crow stayed herself, placidly waiting for me to get with the program.
In Native American lore, the Crow is always curious. Once, in her quest for understanding, she aggravated her own shadow so much that it swallowed her. Having no shadow is a sign of a spirit, but Crow had not actually died. Her unique status gave her the unusual ability to travel through the veil between the worlds and listen to the song of the Great Spirit.
When Spirit took notice that Crow would return to this realm and share what she had heard, he gave her a loud voice, so that many could hear her. I believe that Crow is waiting for me, encouraging me to share my truth, as I have heard it from this world and the worlds next door. To support this stage of my growth, and knowing that it could be some time before it is complete, I have chosen to bear her name as my name.
Namaste,
L Crow Mitchell
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