Remembering joy and curiousity!

It's been a long time since I've posted here...  Lately I realized that I had lost touch with the joy of writing and got tangled up in writing something "worthwhile". I'm not sure how I thought I could tell if it was worthwhile or not... the only reliable way I've found is by the singing of my heart: "Yes! Like that!" But I'd forgotten about listening to my heart. I'd turned away from the pure pleasure of putting words together in a way that pleases me, gives me a sense of peace and certainty...    

Instead I was giving credence to old stories that somewhere out there is a critic I need to please. I have a sneaking suspicion that critic is named Perfection! Well, I've been here before. What writer hasn't. Learning how to turn away from that critical voice is, well... critical!    What really serves my soul and the work I'm about is to point myself instead at the beauty of the world and my heart's response to it. And there it is - the real truth waiting for me, intriguing, constantly changing, sometimes challenging, and always worth

listening to with my big self.

Once again I get it - that place where "counting" my blessings, allowing myself to exist in a state of grace, seeing the world with delight and curiousity, that is my doorway into joy and celebration. I'm so glad to be back.

June and Wholeness

June. Maybe, most people would not associate June with rebirth. For me it's the month I was born, month of the pearl and the rose, month of days growing longer, world growing lusher -  at least that's how it is where I live! - and...it turns out to also be a time when I pick up and reclaim important parts of my life. Those parts that somehow slipped out of my fingers, somewhere back down the path of my life-journey. You know how that is?     

One moment, with great care and tenderness, I'm holding in my hands a precious piece of what I'm here on the planet to do. And then, 'suddenly', it's weeks or months later, and I realize I've misplaced my precious piece. Missing in action, lost to the demands of a turbulent and unrelenting world. So what to do?

I look till I find it. I look with my hunger; I look with a fierce desire to become whole. to be one with myself. I look so I can live out loud my Vision of who I am - even when I'm not sure what my Vision really means.

And in doing so, I come home to myself. I begin to remember why I'm here, why it matters, why I love my life. Yummm.

June - a good month.

Hummingbird Stories

The Relationship Begins... 

A few years ago when summer rolled around and the flowers were all in bloom, I decided I no longer needed to feed the hummingbirds. Didn't they have lots of flowers to sup from? No sense being redundant, right? Wrong!

Intelligence shines forth!

After a few days of empty feeders I was letting the dogs out for their pre-breakfast pee one morning, when suddenly there was a very loud buzzing right next to my head. Ackh!!! I ducked, thinking "Hornet! Big one! Help!" Only it wasn't a hornet. It was a hummingbird. 

Having buzzed me once to get my attention, it then went over to the feeder - buzzzz - and realizing I was only a slow human and might not get it right away, came back to me again - buzzzz - and returned to the EMPTY feeder, again - buzzzz. Finally, because it wanted to make sure I really got the message, it did this a third time. Ahhh - I got it indeed. "Fill the feeder!" So I did.

Keeping the Communication Channels Open...

Sometimes a battle, sometimes a ballet.

Since then I've kept the feeder going all summer long, and last summer added a second feeder to alleviate crowding and battles at the other one. I love to watch them, and make sure to keep those feeders full, especially on cold cloudy days. I've hung one by the kitchen window, which is at right angles to my desk window. This allows me to watch them from two vantage points. It also turns out to be very convenient for the little guys to let me know when the feeder is empty - again! With one quick L-shaped swoop, they can go to both windows with the message that I'm slacking and they've noticed! They don't all do that.  Perhaps they've deputized one to be the liaison with the human (that would be me) - I can't tell them apart to know whether that's true. But it seems they all know me. When I'm out on the deck they fly very close to me as they come and go.

It Runs in the Family

My father used to keep feeders going too. He said once he got a hummingbird to land on his finger. "Wow - how did you do that!" I asked him. He said he held his finger up by the feeder and waited. I say to myself "Patient old man!" When I told him how impressed I was, he responded, "It was only a young feller; he didn't know any better." Love my dad!

Integrating the Flock into the Pack...

The other day I heard a thumping on the deck. I looked out, to see what mischief Bayley, my standard poodle, was into. Yikes - a hummingbird on the deck, brought down by my "intrepid hunter". I banged on the window. He jumped guiltily - we've been having conversations about leaving the birds alone... My neighbour, Ron, suggested persuading Bayley that hummingbirds, fawns, and all were to be protected, not attacked. Tell him they are part of our pack. This time, I held him by the collar so I'd have control, and took him back out to where the tiny critter was lying on the deck, wings spread wide, unmoving. 

I leaned over the hummingbird, cupping my hand over it with love, crooning to it. "See?" I told Bayley, "We love the humming birds. We want no harm to come to them." And at that moment the "dead" hummingbird flew away. Ah - a miraculous healing!

A visit from the ravens...

This morning while I was on a coaching call, the dogs got into mischief trying to catch a chipmunk on my deck. It was hiding behind a pile of pots, barbecue ashes waiting to be dealt with, a patio umbrella - you get the picture! Exterior clutter. mmm-mmm....

In their enthusiasm to catch that rascal, the dogs had broken the bag of ashes. I had no choice but to clean up that corner of the deck right away. Dang it! Tucked away behind the pile I discovered a small container of fish fertilizer - all that was left to me after the bears enjoyed it last fall. Some critter had chewed a hole in the corner of it, which I discovered as I picked it up and gobs of it splatted on the deck. Double dang!

"Hmmm - something smells delicious!"

Making the best of it, I scraped up the gobs and put them in the watering can, added water to make it less appealing to my dogs, then put the watering can up on a chair so they couldn't sample it. You know they would if they could! The raspberries I transplanted a few days ago would be glad of it. Then I headed back to my desk.

"Yes, definitely worth stopping by for

About ten minutes later the ravens arrived. I love their majestic beaks, their incredible size, their glossy feathers and scruffy necks. I'm not so fond of them snacking on the song birds at my feeders! But this time they were coming for fish cocktails. So funny to watch them. The male hopped onto the chair, braced himself with one foot up against the can, and sipped his fill. (I did not get my camera out fast enough to capture this.) Then the female, a bit smaller, dropped down from the apple tree and perched right on the handle. Perfect placement for drinking as much as she wanted!

To give you an idea of how huge they are - this is a full size watering can, 13" from the base to the top of the handle. In my dream journeys they land on my shoulder; some day one of them will decide I'm trustworthy enough to do so in waking reality!

* I have never yet managed to get a photo of them from outside. Until I do there will be the blurry effects from shooting through the window.

Rebel - Shadow and Light!

This morning, working with a coaching client, a juicy conversation about the rebel aspect within - something I'm well acquainted with! 

As a teenager, walking in the energy of the rebel archetype was a way for me to feel powerful. I did not question whether there were good or bad times to walk in this energy. It didn't occur to me that I could choose to step into or out of this energy. It simply welled up inside me and spilled out over the situations I found myself in and the people who happened to be around me. Sometimes the effects were disastrous! But there were other times, (enough times to keep me bonded to this energy) where people took me more seriously, when adults backed down on their demands of me, and where my peers sat up and noticed, and maybe even asked themselves, "Who the heck is she!"

credit: EcosocialistsUnite.com

And now that I'm "all grown up"? I've tamed my rebel down a lot, maybe too much. Over the years there were enough times when instead of giving weight to my rebel-thinking, people took me less seriously, or even became alienated to me. So I squashed her down a bit... Yet there are still times now when her energy bubbles up and I simply let her out and savour - at least for a moment or two!


But what if I took her more seriously? What if I asked myself: where could her disturbing energy be used to break stuck places open? What if her job was to make cracks for the Light to shine in?  How do I call on my rebel to help with earth-healing... what could authentic rebel power bring to the world? And how can I choose with awareness the times when I will walk in that energy? 

I see it's all about being awake. And asking myself tons of questions. It calls me to step into the place of the witness within myself where I can simply mull... 
~ how do my rebel and I bring light and healing, within myself, AND to this situation...
~ what's going on with this person in front of me who's encountering my rebel...
~ what other energies can I call up now to collaborate with the creative and life-bringing aspects of my rebel... 


 Not so easy sometimes! Yet in this world of change we all inhabit, I've got a feeling my inner rebel will bring me insights that can make all the difference.

the Joy of Horse-farming

Lise after the morning milking. Early, early in the day! Photo credit: Patrick Barber, 2008

Found a blog which I must have known about 5 years ago - because I'm part of it. It surprised me while I was Googling references to Sweetwell Farm. I was trying to post this there, but didn't quite figure out that part, apparently!

Years ago, several of my dear ones and I lived together on a farm-school run by a Quaker couple in southern Oregon. Lise Hubbe, of Sweetwell Farm in Scio, OR, was one of us. A few years later several of us were re-united at a Quaker school on the north end of the Kootenay Lake in BC.  Life progressed and eventually five of us re-united again for a weekend at Sweetwell Farm in Oregon's Willamette Valley, where Lise has been living her passion - horse-farming.
Now the daughter of another one of us is interested in working with Lise for a university work-experience. Cycles and seasons, coming round once again. It's just like a Wendell Berry poem.

So here you are: Sweetwell Farm, a fine example of horse-farming - people I love doing sustainable farming - an inspiration to so many of us. 

Lise is running a two-row cultivator with two horses 
from her team of four. They are taking out the thistle 
from between rows of corn. Photo by Holly.

Milking at Sweetwell Farm; Painting by Rebecca Waterhouse, November, 2011

Shadows and Light

I've been hearing from friends who are puzzled as to why I would encourage others to check out The Hunger Games (see my Facebook post Saturday Mar 17, Tuesday Mar 20).  In case you're not familiar with it - this soon to be released film (made by Canada's Lionsgate), is based on the first book of a trilogy written for young adults, by Suzanne Collins. The story follows a young intelligent, thoughtful, courageous teen as she faces  oppression in her post-apocalyptic world. And yes, there's violence.

So what would draw me to read a post-apocalyptic story about violence and oppression?  Years ago, I read The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. Yeah, Gyllian, and why did you read that one? Well may you ask!

I had read previous books by McCarthy. I found his style, his characters, his themes satisfying and intriguing. This one gave me pause because it promised to be bleak but... on the cover one reviewer spoke of "the power of redemptive love".  I was hooked. 

And I read to the end because I wasn't willing to give up until I found that reviewer's light in the dark. It was powerful, haunting, and those images of a violent and cold-hearted future have lingered in my imagination ever since. So much so that I have regretted reading it!  I found no hope in The Road; for me the 'redemptive love' McCarthy wrote of was not enough to neutralize the horror of a future world, built on fear and violence, mainly bereft of compassion, tenderness, and generosity.

Thus in the last few years, I am magnetized to books that deal with a post-apocalyptic future AND give me hope. The Road did not.  I'm looking for that which will. I want hope.

I want visions of humanity managing to rise above our own frightened, grasping hearts, having the courage to love and care about others. I want to hear how we do have the courage to believe not only are we capable of being bright lights in the world... we are determined to choose to be the light in the face of fear, death, and destruction!


Today I'm off to the library to get a copy of the book - we shall see!

Flicker shows up again

Photo credit: Gyllian Davies             

Yesterday I was on my way to Portland from home up in the mountains of southeast BC. The sun shining, the sky electric blue, the air crisp enough to keep the snow from becoming instant slush. A great day, even if I was waaaayyyy later leaving than I meant to be. Driving along through the pine forests, I spotted a bird's little body by the road. Up where I live there's often those  dead animal bodies beside the road, vulnerable and final. Often I stop and bless them with tobacco, saying a prayer to help their spirits safely on their journey.

This time - snip-snap, instantaneous conversation inside my head: The noticer observed: "Little bird." The realist commented: "Not so little bird."  The timekeeper urged: "We're so behind; keep going!" The curious child wanted to know: "What was that!" 

It was the shaman who had the last word: "Go back now."  I (mostly) listen when the shaman speaks within me, so I turned around and drove back a half mile or so. 

Pulled over on the sandy verge under the Ponderosa pines. Not a soul to be heard or seen. Tall sentinels of trees, open forest floor, snow still covering the ground. Walked across the road - ah, sadness. A Red-Shafted Flicker. One of the most beautiful birds - such an amazing painting of feathers on its body. Graceful in flight, independent - not often seen in a crowd, always a welcome guest at my feeders. I can never get enough of admiring its beauty.

Photo credit www.wunderground.com  Amazing bird photos!

I bent down to look - not a wisp of breath or movement, and its little pink eyelids closed. Dang. "Baby, what happened to you?" I whispered as I picked it up. "So sorry, beautiful little one!" It was still warm. I felt like.... if I'd only arrived sooner maybe I could have protected it from the collision that likely caused its death. I tenderly wrapped it in a plastic bag and tucked it in my cooler in the back of my car. The dogs watched me with that odd mixture of patience and curiousity they display when I"m doing something they don't quite get! And off we went down the road.

And then something odd began to happen. I didn't notice it at first. But after a couple of hours driving - I could feel that flicker in the back of my car. And it felt like this... initially the sense of another energy presence in the car. Then... I knew it was the flicker. (please understand - I don't usually feel the energetic presence of other beings. Well, maybe my dogs...  well, maybe my friends...  but a bird?  hmmm)

For the next 8 hours as I drove... there was a constant gentle, enfolding of my body, an encircling experience of enough-ness, and a deep sense of being and feeling grounded and whole. Wow. Am I humbled? You bet! Do I wonder what this means? uh-huh. And what do I know? That I just have to wait, patiently, with open-hearted curiousity. Patience is not one of my stronger attributes! Perhaps the flicker will grab me by the nose with its beak and show me what may be already in plain sight! Nature is ever generous. I wait.

Loving the ones who try to protect me

A few weeks ago I listened to the forecast - rain. Rain! It's not supposed to rain in the mountains in February! "Yuck," says I. "Give me snow, beautiful snow." You know how they say - be careful what you ask for!

Got up the next morning and there it was - snow, about 4" or 10 cm. Yay!  I decided to get the shoveling done right away. Did it, all the steps (3 sets), the walks, the top of the driveway by the house, making enough room for my neighbour to bring in his tractor and plow me out. Cleared around the big gate too - wanted to make that easy for him to get it open. When he's got a pile of driveways to plow, he doesn't have time to waste messing with my iced-up gate...
An hour later, feeling virtuous, I headed back inside, knowing I was ready to drive out to the Shrove Tuesday pancake supper at the church that evening, where they'd be counting on my help.

Then it snowed some more. I wasn't really paying attention. Until I went outside with my gear, nightgown and toothbrush in my backpack - just in case I couldn't make it back up my hill later that night.  Oops! I really hadn't been paying attention. Now the snow was 8 inches deep in my access road. No way I was going anywhere! So I shoveled all over again, made my own pancake supper, and settled in for a cozy evening at home....  Secretly wondering - was I just being a wimp about taking on the deep snow in my access road?

The next day my neighbour laughed at me even thinking of trying to drive out. hmmm  -  another lesson in trusting my wise self. Yes, I really did know what made sense. I find it fascinating how many parts of me are ready to come up with "good reasons" for not listening to my own intuition, wisdom, gut-knowing. How old are these voices! Too old to align with who I am now. Still I know I need to honour them - in my childhood they were what kept me safe from adult censure, scary situations, and all kinds of unknown dangers. Honour them and let them know - that was then and this is now. In the "now" I am the one who makes the world safe for me. I've got it covered.

Tree Root poem....

 

Tree Root

I celebrate this perfect morning
lit like the inside of a pearl
with satin shell gleaming, container
of ocean-light here in the dripping mountain.
We've lost our centre, reliable weather,
predictable seasons, but the trees
anchor us deep, carrying our hearts,
their precious cargo, down with the roots
to the dark centre.
They show us the true ground of being,
the source of our living and prune away
the dross of our silly selves.
Re-formed and made new, glowing
with life we too can raise our faces
into the breeze, scenting out
the shifting path and welcoming
the winds of change, this sea-change
this earth becoming.

                                   © 02.15.2010     Gyllian Davies

After a day of feeling stuck in my own resistance, I remember this - I get to choose how I perceive what I'm up to. What a relief. Suddenly what had previously felt so difficult resolves, like murk settling in the water allowing it to become clear and lovely. The tasks that had loomed and glowered at me from the corner become effortless and even a pleasure to carry out. Magic!

Here is the gem I carry away from this day - in any one moment there is something to be grateful for. True kindness is me choosing to see the abundance. And when I do, I find the source of it is within me. It is my eyes and my heart that have chosen to see and recognize goodness, and to reflect that back to me. My own actions, gestures, thoughts - no matter how puny or insignificant they may seem - have the potential to be perceived as kindness and abundance. I get to bestow that kindness and abundance on me. And oh how my world lightens up when I do so!

We all have this capacity to gift to ourselves.  Perhaps the trick of it is to be willing to receive. To believe that joy and beauty belong in our lives.

In my "wiser" moments I understand that once again I have been gifted a chance to release more of my scarcity thinking and to step into believing this:

Always and always - there is enough! 

No-where in Creation is there a rule 

that says we must suffer,

so go ahead - choose Joy.

Here's a quote to fill you up! (from When God Was a Rabbit, by Sarah Winman)

'Do you believe in God, Arthur?' I said, eating the last piece of sponge.
       'Do I believe in an old man in the clouds with a white beard judging us mortals from one to ten? Good Lord no, my sweet Elly, I do not! I would have been cast out from this life years ago with my tatty history. Do I believe in a mystery; the unexplained phenomenon that is life itself? The greater something that illuminates inconsequence in our lives; that gives us something to strive for as well as the humility to brush ourselves down and start all over again? Then yes, I do. It is the source of art, of beauty, of love, and proffers the ultimate goodness to mankind. That to me is God. That to me is life. That is what I believe in.'
        I listened to the bell again, whispering across the waves, calling, calling. I licked my fingers and scrunched the tin foil up into a ball.
       'Do you think a rabbit could be God?' I ask casually.
       'There is absolutely no reason at all why a rabbit should not be God.'

Ellie is eleven, Arthur is a gay man, an older friend of the family, and of Ellie's - obviously! They are out in the boat; Ellie is teaching him to fish. When Ellie was six she outraged a clergy person at church by suggesting Jesus was an unplanned pregnancy. This fellow tells her that God cannot love anyone who questions His Divine Plan. (hah! - isn't that who God loves most?) Ellie carries this painful "truth"  - that God cannot love her - alone. Her brother gives her a rabbit....  the rest you'll have to find out by reading this amazing book!

How to begin the day

 Waking up I raise the blind, at first a little bit resigned  that  it's another day of low ceiling, no blue sky to be had.  But THEN I realize it's snowing, big fat fluffy flakes and I  am immediately cheered.

How beautiful the falling snow.  It fills me with gratitude for its beauty, with comfort for its quiet steadiness. with peace for the silence it brings.

Curious I step outside to check the thermometer. A few degrees above freezing, right where it's been stuck for these past several days. Down on the road I hear a city kind of sound - many tires moving through slush, only in slow motion. I can't see past the trees at the bottom of the meadow, but I suddenly understand what I'm hearing - a logging truck - all those tires are on one vehicle. And that vehicle is creeping down the road, a sign of how treacherous the driving must be.

We are at the mercy of the seasons. And why should it be any other way. Even when I first woke and saw simply grey sky, there was a part of me reaching for connection, reaching for a place of inhaling deep breaths of this grey day and feeling with a satisfied heart how good it is to be alive. The trick, of course,  is to let that part lead me into the day, cheerful and grateful.

It's what happens when we really look...

"....He awoke unfailingly at six every morning and wandered down to the jetty to note the constantly changing aspect of nature. He noticed small things, particular things; the additional markings of a young deer that shyly appeared over the other side of the river, the last star to disappear at sunrise, (it was always the faint one to the right of the large oak), the miniscule erosion of the opposite bank as a new root became visible amidst the mud and sand. He opened my eyes to this subtle scene of change, and whenever I declared I was bored, he would march me down to the water's edge and make me describe all I could see in tones of enthusiasm and wonder, until my body again reverberated with the excitement of life."

I have read this over and over again. It's from When God Was A Rabbit, by Sarah Winman. I read it and I am down there with them, gazing out over the water, watching the amazing subtlety of the world unfold. And when I go outside here where I live, I breathe in, and then breathe in again, and look, really look, around me. Oh the beauty. It's everywhere. Even on this day of horribly warm temperatures, melting snow, dripping eaves, and a fog-enclosed valley. Beauty. And I'm grateful to Sarah Winman for reminding me.

The Gift

The Gift

I ask and I receive.

Over and over again – You.

Present, mostly invisible, tender

raw power, veiled to protect me.

When I scream and fuss, throwing

my self into full scale resistance

you do not roll your eyes – I would know

if you did. You do not condescend,

give my head a pat, tell me not to worry.

You would not disrespect me so.

You are willing

to wait for all eternity if I decide

to take that long. Sometimes I do.

And when you see

this time I’ve thrown myself

off the deep end and forgotten how to swim, you

send an ally, a quiet angel, one who will

brush up against me, that nanosecond

of searing light, burning my sight

back to solid ground, a river rock

to perch on so that I open my eyes

and see the rock is so small, but the

river not so deep – I can wade

back to shore where you beam

that smile at me, whispering “You

are spectacular”, a kiss in my ear.

And I receive, oh yes I do.

                           © 04.01.2011   Gyllian Davies

a book to remember

I have been reading the most extraordinary book, so extraordinary that for the first time in my life as soon as I finished reading it, I started over reading it again for a second time. Well, actually my older sister assures me that there was a book about an Easter egg factory run by rabbits that I demanded be read to me over and over again as a child.

In delightful synchronicity, this book too has a rabbit in it. “When God Was A Rabbit”, is the story of a brother and a sister, of an unusual family (in the larger sense of family), and of love, in its many amazing and sometimes painful, constellations.

Over and over again while reading I’ve experienced such a feeling of relief, of “thank goodness, immense kindness and wisdom - here it is!”  And over and over again, I’ve been captivated by the prose, by the thoughts of the characters, by the magical world conjured up by the author.

if you decide to read it, let me know how it touches you. I’d love to know.

As a rabbity after-thought – in case you weren’t aware of it, I’ll share with you a way to ensure good luck in your life on a daily basis. All that’s required is this: when you wake up on the first morning of each month, before any other words cross your lips, utter this one word “Rabbits!” and I guarantee you will have good luck for the rest of the month.

If by chance you forget, don’t despair. There is still the option of, each and every morning of the month, first thing say: “Rabbits!”, which will ensure good luck for that day. As you can see, it’s well worth remembering to say it on the first of the month – consider the effort you’ll be saving yourself!

More Light in the world

Sometimes, all we have to do to be reminded of the Light 

that indwells each of us, and the world around us,

is to look about us. 

Here's what I see this winter when I do that. 

 

                           Photo credit: D Thome

Beauty all around me.  

It fills me up and comforts my sadness, eases my weariness, and restores my enthusiasm.

I am utterly grateful to be living in such a beautiful world.

Our Light in the World

I knew it was the night for me to do Fire Ceremony. It was Dec 26^th, the night for the New Moon of Cold Meat. This is about careful husbanding of resources, being quiet within, and at peace with what is.  You could think of it as a moon for appreciating enough-ness, a moon for releasing acquisitiveness, greed, or scarcity thinking.

On the morning of the 26th, I journalled and prayed, asking to be in harmony with the earth, and to bring a small portion of healing, or at least a tiny bit of re-enchantment, to our precious jewel-planet.  In the afternoon I cleared away the snow from the fire pit. As night arrived, I gathered my supplies into a basket... and then the sludge arrived.

You know the stuff? You’re all set to do something that you know is important, that will make a positive difference in some way, that will fan the flame of goodness on the planet and then...maybe you won’t after all!   All kinds of valid-sounding reasons arise for not carrying out your vision – or at least not just now. Distractions pop up. Necessary components to your intent are suddenly unavailable. Obstacles accumulate until you can’t imagine going forward.
Sound familiar? What to do?

On Dec 26th my obstacles were a wordless heaviness, a formless lethargy that smothered my energy and blunted my intentions. I was fresh from a class about being well prepared for ceremony, spiritually as well as physically. Now, it was clear to me that all my preparations were insufficient, paltry, almost as bad as none at all. How ironic – I was about to do New Moon Ceremony around the Blessing of Enough-ness and I was all tangled up in Scarcity’s Shadow!   What to do? - I found my answer in the past...

Once upon a time I went to Grace Cathedral in San Francisco to train as a Labyrinth Facilitator with Lauren Artress - I felt like I was on a magical, mystical journey. Actually, I was on a magical, mystical, and mythical journey, although like most of us, I couldn’t see that while I was in the middle of it!

On returning home, I prepared for my first of three practice labyrinth events with great care. Months before my training even, I had a troupe of enthusiastic participants, waiting and ready.  But then as the time drew near for my first workshop, a strange thing began to happen. One by one, they regretfully cancelled –unexpected family visitors arriving from afar, a court date, job interviews, all events out of their control – until only a handful remained. Perplexed, disappointed and unsure, I consulted my labyrinth mentor – what should I do? What was going on?

“Ahh”, my mentor explained to me, “You and the labyrinth at your cathedral are a powerful new doorway into the world for the Spirit. And whenever that happens, the forces of Darkness awaken, ready to oppose the Light. So what to do? – sit with your labyrinth in prayer and ask if you should go forward. The labyrinth wants a minion – ten people. If your answer is ‘yes’, all will be taken care of.”

For some reason that I can’t explain, what she told me felt utterly true. So I did as she suggested, and I did get my ‘yes’... all kinds of new people inexplicably began to sign up. Even the day of the workshop, a friend who previously told me the labyrinth was outside his box, showed up. When I asked, astonished “What are you doing here?”, he replied “I was told to be here.”  In the end there were twelve people, and the labyrinth got it’s minyon.
 

And this week with my new moon ceremony? I remembered that time with my first labyrinth workshop. I remembered there are forces of darkness that don’t want an earth that is healed, people in harmony with earth and each other. The darkness doesn’t want our precious jewel-planet re-enchanted. As for me – what I don’t want... is to be shanghaied by darkness!

I gathered up my tools and supplies. I went out into the deep night and began the ceremony. With the fog and snow all around, I tended the fire, and offered my prayers and thanks to Creator and Earth for this amazing world we all get to live in.

What could this mean for you? The next time you’re about to undertake an action of kindness, of goodness, of healing work in the world, and then find yourself doubting the worth or authenticity of your intentions – remember about the Dark and do it anyway. Check in with the part of yourself that wants to bring Light into the world. Remember we each have the chance to make a difference, and it really does matter. What you do makes a difference.

And go ahead - thumb your nose at the Dark! Be a warrior of the Light, be an Envoy of Goodness, be a Bearer of Hope.
Walk in the glory of the Light, my friends – you are not alone!


ps- About those magical, mystical, mythic journeys? You’re on one all the time – imagine if you lived in that Truth wholly!