cedar_grove: (Eirian with a smile)
As I sit here, trying to think how I should begin, to find the start of my path for the coming solar year, the rain outside is soaking the ground, the sky overhead is grumbling with thunder. The saying over here is that if there is thunder in the winter time, there will be snow a Tenday later, yet we are currently 'enjoying' record temperatures. There is something wrong with that – it's called Climate Change, and yes, it does exist.

Day before yesterday was the Winter Solstice. Mir and I were travelling on that day, back from New York City where we'd been visiting with good friends, and stopped in on the National Museum of the Marine Corp on the way back to visit the statue of Sergeant Reckless. We were surprised also to see a piece of the WTC that we'd seen transported to the museum along the New Jersey Turnpike a long while past now… and remembered the Firefighters on the bridges paying their respects as it passed. To lay my hand upon the concrete and steel was a profound moment… one right for the introspection the Solstice and winter season invokes into a life.

Perhaps that's where my coming journey begins… like a seed, buried in the dark earth, sheltered from the cold and the wet and the external pressures latent in the unfolding year, held together by the protective pressures of my own internal thoughts, like the arms of Mother, holding Her child, who has wandered.
cedar_grove: (Default)
From The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You Have.

I have only now realized that something endless
has broken ground in me, and I have no
choice but to live and love until it grows me
like a tree.

I met an old man at a gathering, and when everyone went on their way, he leaned into the hushed space between us and talked to me as if we were trees. Scratching his chin, he said, "We start out thin and green, and each time the sky grows dark, we think we will break, but the downpour makes us grow, though never straight, always twisting for the light, and, strangely, the more we reach above the earth, the deeper something in us fingers its way down, and it is this-our unseen fingers reaching for the core-that keeps us from blowing away. Now there is no more running and very little swaying, and up till now, there have been many languages, though none that could be heart, just a creak at dawn and a moan at night, and sooner or later, we are brought down. It doesn't matter how. We are undone. But stacked we burn, and here the poetry rises from us, leaving wisdom in the ash."

I love this – and I'm including the whole of the quote because I want to have it easily accessible, so that I can fit it into my meditations. The reason for this is that the piece reminds me of some of the meditation exercises I used to do when I was a part of one or two of the Wiccan groups I used to be a part of.

Some people have problems with 'guided' meditations... by which I mean where you follow a visualisation led by the words someone speak while you are meditating. Some people find it intrusive – some people become overly worried if they do not see exactly what it is the other person is speaking, for example, the guide might say, "You see a little stream bubbling beside the path you're walking along..." or something, and the person meditating might not see a little stream, but a great big river. I have never worried about that personally. If my subconscious wants me to see a river, rather than a little stream, there must be a reason for that, right? And that reason is likely to be an important point to the meditation. So me... I just always used to go with the flow.

But these words have touched me... and they are words I want to explore in a kind of meditation of my own – seeing where they take me and what images come to mind. While I read the authors interpretation of them, I hope I won't be swayed by them when it comes to what my subconscious will do with them. I can't decide whether to try and read the words out aloud onto the computer and play the sound file as I meditate of just read the words once I have reached a quiet state of mind. That will have to be something to decide for the time I intend to do it, but for now I want to fit it in among my other things.

The thing that hit me the most as I read just now was the phrase, "...always twisting for the light..." It was almost like one of those methods of prediction or the essence of 'Freudian slips' or something. Bibliomance I think the first is called, where you open a book and the first thing you see is supposed to mean something. Perhaps this is how I'm feeling right now – a little like that... like I'm in the dark and trying to grow toward the light. It would fit, I suppose. But the season of light is coming. We're coming to the shortest day of the year, after which time the days will start to get lighter, and our hearts and minds, supposedly will follow suit. Time perhaps also to start thinking about my wishes for the turning of the year.


cedar_grove: (Default)

May 2017

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