Invocation (for Karen on her 50th Birthday)

Karen
By air and sky and deep blue mountain lake,
By sturdiness of soil and heat of passion’s flame.
By rough bark and strong trunk,
Deep roots and ever-widening branches.
By the wind and by the rain.

Shrug off your heavy cloak my darling,
Shake off the weight of your days.
Drop off your burden, slip out of your fear,
Release your inhibitions and go deep and deeper
Until naked, you step into this magical sphere.

Open yourself to our Mother.
Open to her pain and to her bliss.
Lean into the edge of her love and longing.
And fall forward into the deepest darkness of her kiss.

Drop down into the blackness
Slowly float into the depths of her devotion.
Experience the ecstasy of her grief and her glory
And let it take you to the magnificent river that will pull you
Into the truth of your belonging.

Now you are a wave rider,
Now you are the wave,
Now you are the force of love that will heal all wounds.

You must believe first,
And then remember this message:
You are deeply loved.
Your love is desired and valued.
Nothing will ever separate you from the sacred body of the earth,
Nothing will stop you from knowing her immensity.

With love from Amber

 

 

Image source: Unknown (with gratitude and apologies to the artist.)

Crone Mother at Calan Mai

Ode to LiminalityNow Summer is calling her.
And she is leaning into that liminal space.
Not spinning, not weaving, not wondering.
Standing sentient, on this holy day.

She stares at the limitless light ahead.
Squinting her sensitive winter eyes.
Pulling her cloak more tightly around her.

She reluctantly raises her tiny foot to take a step forward,
Not sure if she wants to let go of the comforting depths of winter.
Not ready to walk through the fire
before she leaps into the dizzying height and heat of summer.
She feels helpless; heavy and weak.
Her bones crack; her joints creak; her muscles ache.
She stands old and alone.

And so, taking a deep breath,
She pauses to seek the blessing of her Gods and ancestors.
She whispers a prayer for increased fertility and good health for her land and her tribe.
She blesses and purifies herself.

And she allows herself to consider the possibilities that still lie ahead.

She awkwardly kneels down and begins to rub two oak branches together
until the sparks fly
and catch in the kindling of nine sacred woods.
Her breath feeds the flame;
Her fire begins to burn.
And she can feel the music play within her witch’s soul.

She struggles to stand, and looking ahead
She can see the space between the dark and the light.
No,
She IS the space between the dark and the light.

She steps cautiously and moves forward through the flames.
Remembering a time when her muscles were strong and lean
And she raced faster and faster,
Chasing her seed.
Swishing through the dry grasses — a greyhound chasing a hare;
Slipping and sailing through the waters — an otter chasing a fish;
Soaring boundless though the air — a hawk chasing a sparrow.

She is riding the edges of her dreams and goals;
She is navigating the world between normal and no man’s land.
And so she steps into the light
Her mind pregnant with possibilities.

Inspired by: http://paganbloggers.com/breathofninemaidens/blog/2017/05/01/beltane-portal-of-transformation/

Image source: http://www.durgabernhard.com/item.php?type=poster&id=37

Snowflake meditation

dancing-snowflake

Imagine you find yourself on the coldest night of winter suddenly floating free from your warm bed. You are a tiny speck of dust, so very small that you can slip through the crack between the frame and the pane of your frost-covered window into the black and frozen air. You are so light that you rise up; up and up, above the roof of your home, over the tops of the trees, rising higher and higher in the dark night until the lights of the world below you flicker like stars.

Still you rise, higher and higher floating through the light low clouds, passing through frosty glistening crystals of mist. Further and further, up and up until you find yourself within a small cloud.  As you move through the mist of the cloud you begin to feel a light tug and you notice that you feel drawn to the minuscule molecules of water vapor that surround you.  You affinity to them grows deeper and you begin to feel a longing to unite with the tiny water particles.  This desire grows and fills you completely.  You want nothing more than to join with the water, to have it hold you and surround you completely.

You have become the seed from which a snowflake will grow and you are poised on the edge of a fantastically beautiful winter journey.  You want nothing more than to begin the journey, but you also know that you must wait until you are ready to give yourself over completely.

And so you begin to let go.  You let go of all the cares and worries that you have brought with you from the earth below.  You let go of your sadness. You let go of your anxiety.  You let go of the pain in your bones and muscles.  You let go of your fears and even your concerns about the others that you love.  You let go of trying to constantly fit the puzzle pieces of your life together and you let go of that overwhelming feeling that you must constantly make everything work.

Breathe

And as you let go you become lighter and lighter and you begin to see that the shining crystal water molecules have begun to dance and sway around you. You sigh with pleasure as they come closer to you, teasing you and then moving away, again and again. You are ready, oh so ready to join with them, but you must do more than simply let go.  And so you dig deeper into the depths of your unconscious mind and release all that is holding you back.  You release the guilt.  You release the anger and the sorrow.  You release your obligation to do what you think others want you to do and simply do this thing that is right for you and you alone.

Breathe

And when you realize that you are ready, the clear and shining water molecules come closer and they begin to swirl and naturally curve themselves around you in a stunning and glorious syncopated dance. Your delight increases even more and you suddenly feel their chill take hold and you experience the sharp edges of pure freezing begin to fill you.  You delight in the clean coldness. You shiver with pleasure as the water molecules begin to hum and attach themselves around you.

You feel totally clear and free.  You feel pure and pristine and poised to transform.  And at that very moment when you finally surrender, it happens. Icy crystal slivers shoot in six identical arms out from your center.

You sigh with deep pleasure as each of your six arms form fractal shoots that end in crispy crystalline edges in perfect formation around you. You tingle with joy as each perfectly pointed arrow strains to stretch further and further in a clear a crystal line that points multiple paths to infinity.

You can feel the cold. You can taste the cold.  You ARE the cold. You absorb the clean and bitter frozenness that you have become, the icy light and the exquisite being that is you, a stunningly beautiful, totally unique snowflake that bears witness to the climax of a love that was born from the union of water with a tiny fleck of dust that strayed from the earth.

You are suddenly filled with pure joy!  You stretch your crystal arms and you spin and you dance and you float and you fly.  You join with the others of your kind.  Each utterly different than you and yet so very much the same.  You join in a magical community of snow.

And at that moment, you realize that your life is really nothing more than a delightful dance of ice and sharp edges and exquisitely glittering crystal that can float and rise and fall and flow freely in the air.

Now listen to this amazing song by Kate Bush.

Thank you.

Dancing Snowflake image source: http://www.panoramio.com/photo/73129962

Divinity

Macy stepped into the shadow and followed the man.  Inside, the air of the hut felt cool. She could hear his ragged breathing just ahead.  It was dark and at first she felt blinded, but then her eyes adjusted and her surroundings began to emerge.  She had expected to enter the man’s home, but the room was more of a storage space, filled with musty wooden crates and various unnamed paraphernalia.

She could see tiny specks of dust in the sunlight that filtered in through the cracks in the wooden walls. And she could see him standing just ahead, one side of his face in shadow, the other lit by a piercing ray of light that landed just above his eyebrows and filtered down across his nose.  His mouth was slightly open, and as he stood there, his eyes were fixed on her, and his panting slowed.

A wide grin spread across his face.

At that moment, she didn’t feel fear.  Just the sense that something terrible and wonderful was going to happen; a small thing that might just be the end of her and the beginning of the world.

The dust motes joined and began to circle around them like he was the sun and she was the moon. . . She felt a deep stillness. . . And a huge chasm opened up in her soul.

She had come so far to find this place.  She had come from nothing and everything.  From love and lust and fear and hunger and giving and taking and the sharp edges of betrayal stained with selfishness and greed. Her world was shattered and sullied with bloody love and loyalty that still pulled her back and yet pushed her in at the same time.

Who was this man to her?  She was not afraid of him and yet she knew that he was not her friend.  Being there was her own choice and yet she was frightened of the pull she could feel from him.  A pull that she had felt from the time she was a young girl . . . and she realized that lecherous leer had already been etched in her deepest unconscious.  She moved forward slowly and as she did he begain to step back,

Divinity
Image source: Lee Jeffries

his smile stretched across his face and his faded blue eyes opened wider below the heavy brows. He picked up a wooden cross from a pendant around his neck and placed the base of it between his lips.

Then he extended his muddy hands and she began to feel a stirring deep within her that drew her forward and closer to him.  She reached out and placed her hands in his and he pulled her closer.  She inhaled the musty odor of his clothing as their bodies touched. She felt the stubble of his beard on her face and neck and the hardness of him as it pressed between her legs.  She had no power to resist and no desire to.  All she felt was pure instinct and a force ignited deep within her and she sunk closer and closer into his essence.  She knew that he could take her in that moment if he chose. . . and she knew from the urgency of his breath that he had every intention of doing so.

As they embraced, he began to step backwards pulling her deeper into the hut.  He slid his hands down her arms and twisted her hands behind her back with a grip that had subtly changed from desire to force. At that moment, she knew that she had stepped in too far; and that her own need for adventure had brought her to a place where she would be undone.

She stiffened and began to step back.  She wanted to change her mind; to turn around and run back into the light, down the hill and into the broken world that she knew.

But he sensed her mood shift and his grip tightened.  Holding her wrists behind her with one hand, he spun her around in front of him and pushed her forward roughly. She realized that as they moved deeper, the walls of the hut had become cave walls and he began to push her down into a stone tunnel and deeper into the hill.

Listen to Allysen Callery sing about something like this . . . 

The motherload

Talie crouched behind the dripping metal pipes and struggled to regain his breath.  His heart was pounding and he could feel the pain power begin to surge in him
again.  The harder he tried to shove it down, the more it pushed against Talie 16him.  He clamped his eyes shut, he locked his jaw, he inhaled the moist tunnel air
deeply through his nostrils and used his every remaining ounce of strength to hold himself in check.

He realized that he was getting closer and closer to the point where the pain power might burst out of him in a tornado of rage that would roil and spin of control and devour any last glimmer of the good light that he hoped was still contained within him. He knew that at that point, the good light would be snuffed out forever and he would finally be taken beyond the point where he could manage. And then the Mentara would have won.

No!  He could not let that happen. His sisters needed him, the seraphs needed him–he had no other choice but to learn to manage the power.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his ragged nails pierced the skin of his palms.  He gritted his teeth, and began to softly recite the names that Alphonse had taught him.  “Obernow, Corindor, Alanta and Gorn . . . Obernow, Corindor, Alanta and Gorn.”  Again and again he repeated them until he truly believed that the strange yet familiar words were the last and only thing that could save him and that maybe, just maybe there was a chance that he could channel the energy

“Obernow, Corindor, Ablanta and Gorn.”

Over and over until finally, the names of the ancient ones began to bring him the control he needed to connect with the pain power, to swirl it around within him and use it to transform the tightness in his chest, the grit in his stomach and the clench of his jaw into an intense energy and power that began to filter up through his spinal column and into his brain stem, through his amygdala and filter through the whites of his eyes.

Image Source: 500px.com