May 23, 2012
Garbage strews the side of the road. Tucked amongst the rocks and brambles, a
fallen bird’s nest rests on the ground. Bending
over to look carefully, I see that the owner has woven strands of blue plastic
into the bottom of the nest. My heart hurts. It hurts for the
creatures of this world. It hurts for
all those who have suffered the impact of colonial destruction – the
destruction of natural care and respect, the destruction of natural knowledge,
and the destruction of the natural interweaving of all beings with one another.
And my heart hurts for myself. I feel like I am polluting myself – my heart – with lack of clarity and the garbage of my own thoughts. The fundamental fabric of everything around, and even within me is woven from artifice. Cleaning garbage is an act of cleaning my inner refuse as much as caring for the lands that I walk.
By the time I arrive at the Sacred Grove, the bag I carry is full, and I have only cleaned one side of the road. I greet the Guardians, and find the Main Mother – my heart in pain – asking for help and insight.
She repeats previous instructions. "Just follow your heart. When you are moved to say yes to life, follow it fully. When you are moved to say no to something in life, say no, and follow it fully." Then she tells me to talk to the Broken One.
I approach the broken vine that spills over its broken companion tree. I touch her. No life-bloods within her – she is dry and frail. My heart pain seems to be increasing, and I ask her for guidance. "Look at me.
Let what needs to die, die. You are not letting the old forms die, to feed new growth in you."
I feel powerless, like I do not know how to take care of myself. I am a child in this moment. I turn away and sulk toward the Wild Mother, feeling lost. She says, simply, "Listen to your heart."
I then turn to the Communicator, and she has nothing further to offer. Quiet. So, in childish discomfort, I turn to Guardian. “Your yes or no does not matter. Just be fully present to all that unfolds. Be present to how you feel – let that be your guide and strength.” She pauses, almost seeming to sigh. “Do not stress yourself over this right now. There is more at play and at work in your life than you can see. If you have an aversion to something in front of you, and it is strong and clear, it will come through your voice. And if you have a wobbly "yes" to life, you will feel it. Just be present to your heart."
May 25, 2012
I feel so restless tonight – hungry in my heart. I don’t know what to do. Nothing I think of doing feels satisfying, and everything I think of seems like "too much" (time, effort...). Go for a walk, just get out and move! Two steps out the door, I think of my little blue satchel and offerings. Though my intention is not to see the Mother, I know it is better to take offerings, just in case.
Half-way along the familiar route, Ravens are calling. My heart still feels hungry, hollow, and restless... The raven calls echo through the interior of my being, amplifying the sense of emptiness.
I approach a fork in the road, unsure which direction to take. A fat beige rabbit is digging holes in the dirt-shoulder of the road to my left.
He is my sign. I turn left and walk toward the Sacred Grove. But rather than visit the Mother in this funk of neediness, I decide to continue to move and get some of this restless energy out of my body. I walk to a path I have not taken in a very long time – perhaps in over a year. It's a path I do not really like – and as I step onto the trail I noticed my mind and heart become even more grumpy as I analyze why I do not like this trail... Too many people walk it, it is less wild, the forest does not speak the same language as the trees and plants on the other side of the road…
As I continue to walk, I decide to look for reasons to like the trail. Big trees, cascades of moss, large rock outcrops, different plant-life, winding trails...
Something shifts. The forest begins to talk, as if sensing my own shift. And I am able understand its language! A small animal trail finds my attention. Up, down, around… Away from the main path, I walk and notice a bone in the middle of the path. I decide to pass it by, but… It calls me back to it. I take a closer look. A shoulder blade. I look further down the trail – more pieces of shoulder blade... Three altogether. I pick them up and turn them in my hands.
Graveyards in the forest and I are attracted to one another – as if we are magnets drawn one to the other. The very first time I walked this trail, I was pulled into the forest (off-trail) through knee-high shrubs. Standing in the middle of a dense patch of green and brown, I reached down to pull out a magnificent raccoon skull from the undergrowth. It accompanied me home to become a resident in the outdoor shrine for the ancestors. I have found many, many bones on my walks. Death always seems close at hand – strong advisor and teacher she is...
I look to my left, and another small animal trail appears amongst the plants and moss. Up a steep hill, I find myself further into the forest. A small cliff rises up from the forest floor, surrounded by trees and more moss. About to turn back, I feel a pulling inside, and decide to continue.
A few more steps… I suddenly stop. A dead animal! I look more closely. Hooves, a leg with some dried flesh and fur still on it. Jaw bones. More bones, with some cracked and broken shards strewn about. Fur, bones and flesh in a crumpled mass. I pick up the leg and one of the toe-hooves falls off. The leg is bent at 90 degrees, and held together by a dried strip of flesh. I am tempted to take the whole leg home, and then decide there may be eggs of worms or bugs – perhaps not a good idea.
I pick up the jaw bones – both lower jaws are intact. The upper jaw is only partial, and mostly missing. I do not want to wade through the flesh and fur pile to find the rest of it... Each jaw bone and jaw piece has as many teeth as there are spaces along the ridge lines. I decide to take these three bones with me, along with the toe-hoof that has fallen.
Taking a moment to look about, bird feathers are stuck to a mossy fallen log next to the fleshy mass. I pick up two of the feathers... Beyond that, nestled into the roots of a tree, another small pile of bones and fur. It is a small rodent, and I find more jaw pieces and tiny leg bones. I pick them up as well, leaving the other rodent bones as a marker of its death.
My neck begins to prickle with electric sensation. I hear the word “cougar” whispered all around. Craggy rocks and boulders, a small cliff – prime territory for a cougar to hide, or to spot its kill from above. I feel tension – not an interior energy, but one in the air and forest all around me. I attempt to juggle all of the bones, and manage to find sage to make an offering of gratitude to this place, and to assuage the cougars. The forest feels different here.
As I leave the graveyard, I notice that my heart no longer feels restless, no longer feels hollow. I walk deeper into the forest and find a very old and very large rainforest tree. Bones in one hand, I lean into this enormous tree, feeling at peace. I think of the bones. Am I drawn to them? Are they calling me? Are the spirits of the ancestors calling me? How is it that I find these bones and dead creatures, and have done so since I was a child?
I decide to head back home, and also know that I must also visit Ma to offer something of these bones to her. As I think of the Mother, an image and instruction suddenly flickers through my mind. “Use the teeth. Put them in a small bag, add them to your Ladanka. Use them only for divining and healing of others.” How to do this is not clear... Besides, the teeth are lodged in the jaw-bones.
As I walk out of this side of the forest, grateful for the medicines, I can see trucks parked near the hidden pathway leading to the Sacred Grove.
I quickly duck into the Grove, offering a feather to the Adorned Guardian, and then promptly moving to the other Guardian. I lay lichen from the grand tree on the altar, and then look at the bones in my hand. What do I leave? I place the absolutely tiniest bone from the rodent under the altar, and then debate back and forth over the three pieces of jaw bone with teeth that I had found. As I sit trying to figure out which teeth to keep for the medicines, and which to offer, the portion of upper jaw jumps out of my hand and to the ground. The decision has been made. I place it under some bark next to the altar.
On my walk home, carrying the remaining gifts, I round a corner and am suddenly stopped by a beautiful sight. A vine of the Mother in full bloom. I have not seen her in bloom as yet. I walk to her, and ask if I can take a bloom home. As I pluck her, I feel so very blessed for this walk...
Near home, I see two rabbits on one of the neighbour's properties. One is Curly – my beloved friend whom I have not seen in a very long time, since he was removed as patriarch from the property by the matriarch and her new partner. The rabbits have a very dramatic and somewhat harsh life. He recognises me and runs toward me. I stoop to greet him. I do not have a carrot or any treat to give him, so I offer the Mother instead. He takes nibbles of two of the orange blossoms... It is not to his taste, but he does not run off. He stays close and begins to feed on plants at my feet. We sit with each other for a short time, and then, with mutual silent consent, we part for the evening.
When I arrive home, I immediately proceed to the sink to clean the bones. I begin with the rodent. Little tiny molars easily fall out of the jaw bone. Far too small to make practical use-of by themselves, I decide to keep the jaw as well as the teeth. I then clean the part of the jaw that has an incisor... It pulls out easily -- it is very long, and semi-circular. I am amazed at how much of the tooth was held within the jaw -- less than 10 % of the tooth had been visible.
As I clean the toe-hoof of the deer I notice a scent – death. I decide this will live on my balcony, in the potted plant of the Mother. She is a different version than the wild-growth I encounter on my walks, and bringing some of the wild to her feels appropriate.
The teeth on each lower jaw are loose, but still well-held in their sockets. One tooth in particular is loose enough that I decide to tug on it and see if it will easily leave. It lifts half-way, but not fully. I find a knife to help lift from under the root, and extract the tooth. I hold the tooth in my hand. It is weighty, dense, and feels almost like porcelain compared to the jaw-bone, which is drier, more striated and less dense. I look at the other teeth and decide to extract all of them. As I am working with one of the teeth, I am less careful, and it breaks in half. I decide this is actually a good thing – if these are to be used in divining, a broken tooth is as useful as a whole one.
As I work on the next tooth, I begin to see this scene from a distance in my mind's eye – if someone were to walk in, this might appear as very morbid or gross. Memories float through... In my twenties, I had found recently-dead moles and owls, skinned them, and dried and saved different parts for use in ceremony and as medicine-helpers. When their medicine was complete, and no longer for my use, I brought my Ladanka and sacred objects out into nature to bury or release, with gratitude. My mother had been looking after my sons one day when they were just little guys (maybe 2 and 3). When I came home from working, she and my older son were very excited. They brought me out back to a lumpy garbage bag. "Open it!" my son exclaimed.
I opened it to the smell of death and the sight of a whole racoon. Mom had been driving and saw it on the side of the road, and picked it up for me. That was quite an act of love on her part, I realise today. I had brought the carcass to the basement to try and skin it, but realised, quickly, I was way over my head. Little moles are easy to work with. Big racoons -- hmmm, I was not skilled enough to know what to do. The next day, it got released to the forest.
My mind's eye zoomed back to my current extraction work... As I dislodged the last tooth – a wisdom tooth – I looked at the little pile. I still have no idea how I am supposed to work with these.
I bring the jaw bones to the shrine for the ancestors, to join an assortment of bones, including the skull I had found a few years ago.
The teeth and rodent bones are left in a bowl on my altar for the night.
May 26, 2012
And my heart hurts for myself. I feel like I am polluting myself – my heart – with lack of clarity and the garbage of my own thoughts. The fundamental fabric of everything around, and even within me is woven from artifice. Cleaning garbage is an act of cleaning my inner refuse as much as caring for the lands that I walk.
By the time I arrive at the Sacred Grove, the bag I carry is full, and I have only cleaned one side of the road. I greet the Guardians, and find the Main Mother – my heart in pain – asking for help and insight.
She repeats previous instructions. "Just follow your heart. When you are moved to say yes to life, follow it fully. When you are moved to say no to something in life, say no, and follow it fully." Then she tells me to talk to the Broken One.
I approach the broken vine that spills over its broken companion tree. I touch her. No life-bloods within her – she is dry and frail. My heart pain seems to be increasing, and I ask her for guidance. "Look at me.
Let what needs to die, die. You are not letting the old forms die, to feed new growth in you."
I feel powerless, like I do not know how to take care of myself. I am a child in this moment. I turn away and sulk toward the Wild Mother, feeling lost. She says, simply, "Listen to your heart."
I then turn to the Communicator, and she has nothing further to offer. Quiet. So, in childish discomfort, I turn to Guardian. “Your yes or no does not matter. Just be fully present to all that unfolds. Be present to how you feel – let that be your guide and strength.” She pauses, almost seeming to sigh. “Do not stress yourself over this right now. There is more at play and at work in your life than you can see. If you have an aversion to something in front of you, and it is strong and clear, it will come through your voice. And if you have a wobbly "yes" to life, you will feel it. Just be present to your heart."
May 25, 2012
I feel so restless tonight – hungry in my heart. I don’t know what to do. Nothing I think of doing feels satisfying, and everything I think of seems like "too much" (time, effort...). Go for a walk, just get out and move! Two steps out the door, I think of my little blue satchel and offerings. Though my intention is not to see the Mother, I know it is better to take offerings, just in case.
Half-way along the familiar route, Ravens are calling. My heart still feels hungry, hollow, and restless... The raven calls echo through the interior of my being, amplifying the sense of emptiness.
I approach a fork in the road, unsure which direction to take. A fat beige rabbit is digging holes in the dirt-shoulder of the road to my left.
He is my sign. I turn left and walk toward the Sacred Grove. But rather than visit the Mother in this funk of neediness, I decide to continue to move and get some of this restless energy out of my body. I walk to a path I have not taken in a very long time – perhaps in over a year. It's a path I do not really like – and as I step onto the trail I noticed my mind and heart become even more grumpy as I analyze why I do not like this trail... Too many people walk it, it is less wild, the forest does not speak the same language as the trees and plants on the other side of the road…
As I continue to walk, I decide to look for reasons to like the trail. Big trees, cascades of moss, large rock outcrops, different plant-life, winding trails...
Something shifts. The forest begins to talk, as if sensing my own shift. And I am able understand its language! A small animal trail finds my attention. Up, down, around… Away from the main path, I walk and notice a bone in the middle of the path. I decide to pass it by, but… It calls me back to it. I take a closer look. A shoulder blade. I look further down the trail – more pieces of shoulder blade... Three altogether. I pick them up and turn them in my hands.
Graveyards in the forest and I are attracted to one another – as if we are magnets drawn one to the other. The very first time I walked this trail, I was pulled into the forest (off-trail) through knee-high shrubs. Standing in the middle of a dense patch of green and brown, I reached down to pull out a magnificent raccoon skull from the undergrowth. It accompanied me home to become a resident in the outdoor shrine for the ancestors. I have found many, many bones on my walks. Death always seems close at hand – strong advisor and teacher she is...
I look to my left, and another small animal trail appears amongst the plants and moss. Up a steep hill, I find myself further into the forest. A small cliff rises up from the forest floor, surrounded by trees and more moss. About to turn back, I feel a pulling inside, and decide to continue.
A few more steps… I suddenly stop. A dead animal! I look more closely. Hooves, a leg with some dried flesh and fur still on it. Jaw bones. More bones, with some cracked and broken shards strewn about. Fur, bones and flesh in a crumpled mass. I pick up the leg and one of the toe-hooves falls off. The leg is bent at 90 degrees, and held together by a dried strip of flesh. I am tempted to take the whole leg home, and then decide there may be eggs of worms or bugs – perhaps not a good idea.
I pick up the jaw bones – both lower jaws are intact. The upper jaw is only partial, and mostly missing. I do not want to wade through the flesh and fur pile to find the rest of it... Each jaw bone and jaw piece has as many teeth as there are spaces along the ridge lines. I decide to take these three bones with me, along with the toe-hoof that has fallen.
Taking a moment to look about, bird feathers are stuck to a mossy fallen log next to the fleshy mass. I pick up two of the feathers... Beyond that, nestled into the roots of a tree, another small pile of bones and fur. It is a small rodent, and I find more jaw pieces and tiny leg bones. I pick them up as well, leaving the other rodent bones as a marker of its death.
My neck begins to prickle with electric sensation. I hear the word “cougar” whispered all around. Craggy rocks and boulders, a small cliff – prime territory for a cougar to hide, or to spot its kill from above. I feel tension – not an interior energy, but one in the air and forest all around me. I attempt to juggle all of the bones, and manage to find sage to make an offering of gratitude to this place, and to assuage the cougars. The forest feels different here.
As I leave the graveyard, I notice that my heart no longer feels restless, no longer feels hollow. I walk deeper into the forest and find a very old and very large rainforest tree. Bones in one hand, I lean into this enormous tree, feeling at peace. I think of the bones. Am I drawn to them? Are they calling me? Are the spirits of the ancestors calling me? How is it that I find these bones and dead creatures, and have done so since I was a child?
I decide to head back home, and also know that I must also visit Ma to offer something of these bones to her. As I think of the Mother, an image and instruction suddenly flickers through my mind. “Use the teeth. Put them in a small bag, add them to your Ladanka. Use them only for divining and healing of others.” How to do this is not clear... Besides, the teeth are lodged in the jaw-bones.
As I walk out of this side of the forest, grateful for the medicines, I can see trucks parked near the hidden pathway leading to the Sacred Grove.
I quickly duck into the Grove, offering a feather to the Adorned Guardian, and then promptly moving to the other Guardian. I lay lichen from the grand tree on the altar, and then look at the bones in my hand. What do I leave? I place the absolutely tiniest bone from the rodent under the altar, and then debate back and forth over the three pieces of jaw bone with teeth that I had found. As I sit trying to figure out which teeth to keep for the medicines, and which to offer, the portion of upper jaw jumps out of my hand and to the ground. The decision has been made. I place it under some bark next to the altar.
On my walk home, carrying the remaining gifts, I round a corner and am suddenly stopped by a beautiful sight. A vine of the Mother in full bloom. I have not seen her in bloom as yet. I walk to her, and ask if I can take a bloom home. As I pluck her, I feel so very blessed for this walk...
Near home, I see two rabbits on one of the neighbour's properties. One is Curly – my beloved friend whom I have not seen in a very long time, since he was removed as patriarch from the property by the matriarch and her new partner. The rabbits have a very dramatic and somewhat harsh life. He recognises me and runs toward me. I stoop to greet him. I do not have a carrot or any treat to give him, so I offer the Mother instead. He takes nibbles of two of the orange blossoms... It is not to his taste, but he does not run off. He stays close and begins to feed on plants at my feet. We sit with each other for a short time, and then, with mutual silent consent, we part for the evening.
When I arrive home, I immediately proceed to the sink to clean the bones. I begin with the rodent. Little tiny molars easily fall out of the jaw bone. Far too small to make practical use-of by themselves, I decide to keep the jaw as well as the teeth. I then clean the part of the jaw that has an incisor... It pulls out easily -- it is very long, and semi-circular. I am amazed at how much of the tooth was held within the jaw -- less than 10 % of the tooth had been visible.
As I clean the toe-hoof of the deer I notice a scent – death. I decide this will live on my balcony, in the potted plant of the Mother. She is a different version than the wild-growth I encounter on my walks, and bringing some of the wild to her feels appropriate.
The teeth on each lower jaw are loose, but still well-held in their sockets. One tooth in particular is loose enough that I decide to tug on it and see if it will easily leave. It lifts half-way, but not fully. I find a knife to help lift from under the root, and extract the tooth. I hold the tooth in my hand. It is weighty, dense, and feels almost like porcelain compared to the jaw-bone, which is drier, more striated and less dense. I look at the other teeth and decide to extract all of them. As I am working with one of the teeth, I am less careful, and it breaks in half. I decide this is actually a good thing – if these are to be used in divining, a broken tooth is as useful as a whole one.
As I work on the next tooth, I begin to see this scene from a distance in my mind's eye – if someone were to walk in, this might appear as very morbid or gross. Memories float through... In my twenties, I had found recently-dead moles and owls, skinned them, and dried and saved different parts for use in ceremony and as medicine-helpers. When their medicine was complete, and no longer for my use, I brought my Ladanka and sacred objects out into nature to bury or release, with gratitude. My mother had been looking after my sons one day when they were just little guys (maybe 2 and 3). When I came home from working, she and my older son were very excited. They brought me out back to a lumpy garbage bag. "Open it!" my son exclaimed.
I opened it to the smell of death and the sight of a whole racoon. Mom had been driving and saw it on the side of the road, and picked it up for me. That was quite an act of love on her part, I realise today. I had brought the carcass to the basement to try and skin it, but realised, quickly, I was way over my head. Little moles are easy to work with. Big racoons -- hmmm, I was not skilled enough to know what to do. The next day, it got released to the forest.
My mind's eye zoomed back to my current extraction work... As I dislodged the last tooth – a wisdom tooth – I looked at the little pile. I still have no idea how I am supposed to work with these.
I bring the jaw bones to the shrine for the ancestors, to join an assortment of bones, including the skull I had found a few years ago.
The teeth and rodent bones are left in a bowl on my altar for the night.
May 26, 2012
I decide to make pouches for the teeth and
rodent bones, to place into my Ladanka. I still do not know how to make
use of the teeth – they clink together in a satisfying sound as I slip them
into the pouch. Something in my heart feels less hollow, at least this
night.
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