Wednesday, 3 May 2023

Red Waters Rising

May 19th, 2012

Pre-moon.  For the past two years I have been experiencing the final, slow shift of moon tides...  Long heavy bleeds.  More recently, inner fires burning at ovulation and pre-moon – and over the past few cycles, pre-moon waters rising over-head bringing anxiety, insecurity, sensitivity, and a deep need for alone time.

As each moon approaches, the veils begin to thin.  I feel like I am swimming in deep waters – the unconscious. Maybe this time of burning feminine fires and red waters rising is actually a time of immense healing? Places of deep wounding and trauma rise to the surface for my attention.  I feel awash in insecurities, old patterns of compensation, feelings of low self-worth, lack of inner-power and lack of self-love.

What power we have been offered by the Dark Mother who burns in our bellies and takes the rich red bloods and churns them into wisdom and healing!  Anything that is left undone or incomplete from younger years is presented to us at this time for us to work through.

Tomorrow is a solar eclipse. It has been over a week since my last visit to the Mother.  The time is ripe.  Muddled mind and heart will bring muddled teachings, so I prepare my intentions.


The Encounter


Feeling prepared, I walk to the Mother, carrying various offerings.  Half-way along the trek to her grove, I see, in the far distance, a group of men and their dogs leave their laneway and walk toward the hidden path.  Their voices are boisterous.

I slow down, and scout for Cleavers as I walk.  As I round the final corner, I hear their voices – loud – though I cannot see them at this time.  They are hidden in the trees, having already entered the forest.  The Sacred Grove is a small circle of trees and vines, just-off the main path, near the forest entrance.

With regular seeing, the Grove does not stand out.  It is hardly noticeable, really.  I usually go there in the early evenings, when people are dining or winding down for the day.  I feel vulnerable going to Ma, and have not yet learned how to make myself unseen.

I enter the trail, and then the grove.  I make offering to each Guardian, and reposition the feather-offerings that have fallen to the ground from the first vine.  One hand touching my heart, I bend and touch her root, then look to all of the emanations of the Mother in the grove.

She whispers, "Quickly, you must leave.  Go into the heart of the forest."

I walk past the Wild Mother, stopping for a brief moment to pay respects, and entered the forest.  In front of me is a small animal trail.  I have never walked this way before.  I walk over small rises and dips, without seeing Ma for some time.  The voices of the men are loud and echo off the small knolls and trees.  I continue along the animal path, feeling lost.  Not lost in physical space – lost or awash in vulnerability, anxiety rising with the sound of the voices.  I cannot see Ma in the trees, and do not know how long to walk.  Yet, I hear her in my inner ear, insisting I continue to walk.  I come to a small hill and look up – there she is!  Oh, she is old.  A grandmother ancient one.  Gnarly, twisting bark, thick, thick vine – she has lived with her tree companion a very long time.

I approach her, excited yet cautious.  I am aware she is a grand elder, and I am such an infant. 

I reach out a hand, touch her, pause, wait…  Then, I let my fingers wrap around her width.  They do not reach fully around. 

“Grand-daughter…”

“Ancient one, I am here seeking guidance.”

“Look at me…  Look to me…”  Sensing my anxiety, she says, “Listen to the voices with your heart.  I will keep you safe.”

 I relax, just a little, and listen.  The voices seem to coalesce into one direction.  I know the group has reached the summit – they are yodeling, yelling.  One man’s voice is deep and resonant.  His laughter bounds through the forest and vibrates through me.  The men seem to be staying in place, and then, I wonder – maybe it is not the same group?  Perhaps it is a group of people on the adjacent property.  Their voices do not move.

After a bit more time, I decided it is, indeed, the neighbouring property.  I turn from the Ancient One and begin to walk back.  I feel silly for having created a sense of anxiety, and for having walked away from the Grove.

Lost in myself for a few moments, my ears pick up something and I stop.  The voices are now moving.  Ma is not nearby. I am standing just behind a small knoll, and put out my hand to the closest tree, asking stay or go? The reply: "Stay.  Sit, be quiet, remain low."  I peak and see a head bobbing through the trees in the near distance.  The voices continue to get louder – are they heading straight for me?  I wait...  They seem neither closer nor farther.

What is this game that is being played? When I move, they move, when I remain, they remain...  Perhaps they found the fire-pit and are deciding to stay, drink, play?  Perhaps I can move and walk home…  I feel disappointment that I may not journey with the Mother this night.

I stand and see one of the dogs on the main trail about 100 feet from the knoll that is my hiding place.  I crouch and rest closer to the forest floor, body engulfed in shrubs and leaves.  Their voices grow louder and louder, laughter and rowdy talk.  I attempt to ignore the comments of the men-folk – their conversations away from loved-ones are not to be intruded upon.

As I lay amongst the moss, I feel at peace.  In front of my eyes, at ground level, arbutus bark also rests in the moss and presents itself for the burning offerings that I will do back home tonight.  The group passes by, and after more time, I arise and proceed to the Grove. 

At Guardian, where fluff lays on granite altar, I am welcomed.  “Make offerings, child.”  I lit Coltsfoot and Sage and give gratitude, and then repeat my intentions and requests.  I see that one root of the Guardian goes underground and re-emerges a foot or so away.

I squat and touch the root...  “Sometimes, child, we need to hide or be alone during heightened times.  Why do you have to meet brash or boisterous energies at all times?  Listen to your deeper nature and needs.  Go into the inner forest and be enveloped in her healing when the waters are rising.  Emerge when ready."

My mind turns to my own inner struggles and uncertainties. "Say yes when you feel moved to say yes, say no when you feel moved to say no. Just follow what is right within you."  My mind begins to struggle with scenarios and what-ifs and how-do-I-know...  I blow on the sage, and a small explosion and crackle of fire follow, with a stern return from the Mother.  "Why do you question me?  Others need to learn to attend to themselves and their own needs.  Do not enable them by giving up your own needs.  Attend to yourself and do not question."

As I was squat, she reminds me through body sensation and heart-knowing that this is the sacred position of bleeding and birthing – the power position.  This is the position of exchange between earth and woman – the flow of power between the two.

I ask her, "What is the next step in healing and preparation?"  Immediately, an image of sitting in a Vedic astrologer's office in India, 8 years ago, arises in my memory.  At the time, he had instructed me to go home to Canada, put an iron nail in the ground of the property I lived on, and pee on it.  Otherwise I would have health issues later on.  I did not do this – at the time I thought it was silly...  I am now anaemic from the long and heavy bleeds – taking iron supplements daily.  Ma says, "It's time.

"Squat and let your bloods flow this cycle.  Bring bloods here, to this grove, and also walk your property and find a place of power to put your bloods.  Connect these places of power through your red waters.

And remember, when the waters rise, the way to heal the old wounds that surface is to respect your needs – time, space, self-care...  This is the healing.

“Go home now, make a burning offering, and dedicate the energies to the healing of others.  The rest of the teachings will come tonight.”


The Fire

When I arrive home, it is near dark.  I eat quickly, gather herbs for the fire, and the branches I had cut earlier in the day.  I approach the small fire pit, crumple paper and add small twigs as I light the Fire.  Handfuls of herbs, with prayers for the healing of others who are struggling are offered to the flames.  Then prayers and more herbs for myself, and then finally then for Gaia...  I burn for close to an hour.

The flames die into embers.  My senses have altered.  I can see spirits hovering on the periphery of the circle.  Ma is also near.  Raven calls – unusual for this time of night – close by.  I feel a sudden sense of fear.  Something powerful enters the periphery of the circle.  An image of the wet-spot arises in my memory.  This was a water-spot on a plush carpet that remained for 10 days without change in my bedroom when I was in my mid-20's.  The end of the story was a lesson given by a spirit-teacher about the use of sacred designs as living prayers and ways of clearing energy (*see appendix, Wet Spot).

"Teacher??" I ask, reaching out into the darkness with my heart.  Ma speaks, "You are not ready to see or meet this teacher. Powerful he is.  For now, I am your conduit with this teacher.  You need more preparation first. You are not yet ready to have your world blown open and apart."


The Dream

I am on the ocean, between two large islands.  The waters are calm and relatively shallow (as far as oceans go).  There is a male father-type character with me, though I do not really interact with him directly.  The remnants of wood rafts, boats and old pirate ships are strewn in the waters.  And bones, skeletons, everywhere...  A slight feeling of fear arises, and then quickly disperses as one of the skeletons, on a half-floating ship, smiles at me.  It is (or was) male, and has something that is part-sword, part-cane in his hands.  I ask if he would show me how to wield one of those.  “Happy to, my dear” and he asks one of the other crew (another skeleton) if he would let me use his.

I awaken.


I am learning from the skeletons of the rising red waters.


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