June 21st, 2012
Saturday is near. Students will gather in the coming weeks to explore the world of plants and deeper medicine. Each week, we will visit the forest. I am hopeful students will meet a plant teacher or ally. “Ma, I know you asked me to share these teachings, even as they emerge – I do not feel ready.” “Child, there are many ways to heal the dissonance the world suffers from. You have been called to duty.” Hanging my head, I look at my hands in futility, knowing I have resigned myself to her request.
Standing at the fork in the path, at the entrance to the forest, I greet the corner bush, plants and rocks, asking their assistance and protection for the students. With care and gratitude, I stand a feather in the moss, and walk to the next transition place. Prayers and feathers are left as gifts in several locations along the path we will walk in 2 days.
Eventually, I exit the forest and step onto the meadow-path. Bees buzz amongst the flowers, and I finally feel more connected and relaxed about the upcoming workshops.
Rounding the final corner, I hear a bit of rustling behind me and turn to see a snake slither into the grass. It disappears. Somehow this meeting is significant.
Reaching into my pouch for offerings, I draw out some cedar. As I kneel to make offering, I hear a cry overhead and look up to see Eagle. She lets out a few shrill cries as she flies toward the forest canopy. Snake and eagle medicine!
I look back to the ground where the snake had disappeared, and place the cedar in the grass. My eye catches sight of a discarded snake skin at the exact spot she had slithered into the tall tangled strands. Delicately, I pick up the skin. Perhaps almost 2 feet in length, the skin is broken in the centre.
Deeply in awe, I complete my walk and bring the snake skin home. It will sit for a night on my altar, and then find its way into my Ladanka.
~*~
It is night. I sit with the skin in my hands...
Snake whispers, "Shed your skin – give yourself room to grow."
June 23rd, 2012
As we walk in mindful silence and single file, I feel a mixture of joy, anticipation, and nervousness. We are on our way to the forest. At the half-way point, I spy four ravens in a tree-top overseeing us. They have a noisy and warming presence – marking the portal of energy and containment for the students' journey in the forest.
We enter the forest. I pause and pay respects to the Gatekeeper at the fork of paths. Students observe silently. Then we continue to walk. Each student has been instructed to listen, with their heart and body, while we walk. When they feel a “pull,” they are to wander carefully off the path and find whatever plant is calling to them. Ten minutes into the forest, most students have already wandered into the bush to find an ally or teacher.
As I walk onto the deeper forest path, little mole makes a timely appearance. His wee little body moves over the gravel and roots and grasses to the other side of the path, where he blindly climbs through valleys and hills of soft green moss.
"I am blind," he says. "Feel your way through the dark..."
Completing the entire route, I find myself back at the fork – the students have half an hour with their respective plants before we reconvene here. I make an offering of sage and cedar to the Gatekeeper, and as I do, I turn to see snake slither into the brush.
Snake and mole...
An older Ma lives at the edge of the forest next to the Gatekeeper. Knowing I have a bit of time, I decide to visit with her.
I return to my nervousness. “Will the students find a plant? Will they actually communicate with it?”
"Trust, trust, trust," she says.
Then she feels my deeper quandary and asks, "What is in your heart? When you feel perplexed or challenged, needy or emotional, ask yourself ‘What is in my heart?’ "
Holding her, she begins to sway.
"I am moved to be with you.
I am moved to be with you.
I am moved to be with you.
Wait...
Be yourself.
Stand in your centre.
And wait until someone comes into your life and says to you, ‘I am moved to be with you.’
Now go, it is too difficult to be student and teacher in this same moment. You are needed in your other role."
I place offerings at her base, and walk back to the fork, leaving my student role behind with Ma and stepping into my facilitator role. As I approach the Gatekeeper, I see movement in the grasses. This time little mouse makes her appearance. Ah, yes, thank you, little Myshka.
June 24th, 2012
Ma is a lover. She teaches about the heart. She twines her way around herself and her companions. She is with them for their lifetime – for her lifetime. If she holds too tight or smothers them, the companion will die. If she does not grow to the same heights, she will not get enough light, and she will die. They each feed from the same soil, they share water and resources. They communicate. When I observe the older Ma's, they are refined and balanced in their growth. They show their age – thick leathery bark for skin, twining branches that have character and follow a winding and curvaceous path of life, full in their growth yet not rambunctious. Many of the younger Ma's tend to be wild, overgrown, strangling their companions... There is much to be learned of the ways of the heart by observing them. I have been reflecting on Ma's teachings to me...
“Yes child, you are beginning to understand.” Ma seems pleased with my progress. “Tell me more… What does this mean to you, in your own life?”
I reply, “This open heart, where everything passes through freely, is felt deeply, without stickiness. I have reflected what this means of my nature as love, and as a loving being. If I mistakenly source myself on anyone's surface-love, I have lost my centre – I become embroiled in drama and surface stories. If someone disapproves of me, if I perceive rejection or potential loss, if someone lashes out at me – all of this is food for a story ‘love is gone’.”
“Oh, child, YES!” I can feel her excitement!
“Love is within and all around,” I continue. “The essence of all life is love, regardless of outer behaviour – where could it go?” I pause. She is silent, waiting…
“No security is available. You do not know if your companion will survive or not. No promise the tree-companion can make will guarantee your mutual-relationship will last. You each have full freedom to simply be yourselves, and thrive as best you can, given the circumstances that are offered (weather, climate, human and animal activity, etc...). And, the actions of one will affect the other. There is a certain direct feedback that happens in this waking-dream-reality of interconnection.” I pause again, waiting for approval, knowing she will not give approval.
The message that comes through my heart instead is one of love without demand. “You are right child, I will not give ‘approval.’ I will give love – a love that gives freedom.”
Her next transmission is wordless. She is here to teach me to have a heart that is open and breezy, clear-seeing, that dives deeply into the moment.
My heart has not been breezy. This lesson is rich and will take time to unfold in its completeness. I will need to shed many skins, and trust feeling my way through the dark.
Saturday is near. Students will gather in the coming weeks to explore the world of plants and deeper medicine. Each week, we will visit the forest. I am hopeful students will meet a plant teacher or ally. “Ma, I know you asked me to share these teachings, even as they emerge – I do not feel ready.” “Child, there are many ways to heal the dissonance the world suffers from. You have been called to duty.” Hanging my head, I look at my hands in futility, knowing I have resigned myself to her request.
Standing at the fork in the path, at the entrance to the forest, I greet the corner bush, plants and rocks, asking their assistance and protection for the students. With care and gratitude, I stand a feather in the moss, and walk to the next transition place. Prayers and feathers are left as gifts in several locations along the path we will walk in 2 days.
Eventually, I exit the forest and step onto the meadow-path. Bees buzz amongst the flowers, and I finally feel more connected and relaxed about the upcoming workshops.
Rounding the final corner, I hear a bit of rustling behind me and turn to see a snake slither into the grass. It disappears. Somehow this meeting is significant.
Reaching into my pouch for offerings, I draw out some cedar. As I kneel to make offering, I hear a cry overhead and look up to see Eagle. She lets out a few shrill cries as she flies toward the forest canopy. Snake and eagle medicine!
I look back to the ground where the snake had disappeared, and place the cedar in the grass. My eye catches sight of a discarded snake skin at the exact spot she had slithered into the tall tangled strands. Delicately, I pick up the skin. Perhaps almost 2 feet in length, the skin is broken in the centre.
Deeply in awe, I complete my walk and bring the snake skin home. It will sit for a night on my altar, and then find its way into my Ladanka.
~*~
It is night. I sit with the skin in my hands...
Snake whispers, "Shed your skin – give yourself room to grow."
June 23rd, 2012
As we walk in mindful silence and single file, I feel a mixture of joy, anticipation, and nervousness. We are on our way to the forest. At the half-way point, I spy four ravens in a tree-top overseeing us. They have a noisy and warming presence – marking the portal of energy and containment for the students' journey in the forest.
We enter the forest. I pause and pay respects to the Gatekeeper at the fork of paths. Students observe silently. Then we continue to walk. Each student has been instructed to listen, with their heart and body, while we walk. When they feel a “pull,” they are to wander carefully off the path and find whatever plant is calling to them. Ten minutes into the forest, most students have already wandered into the bush to find an ally or teacher.
As I walk onto the deeper forest path, little mole makes a timely appearance. His wee little body moves over the gravel and roots and grasses to the other side of the path, where he blindly climbs through valleys and hills of soft green moss.
"I am blind," he says. "Feel your way through the dark..."
Completing the entire route, I find myself back at the fork – the students have half an hour with their respective plants before we reconvene here. I make an offering of sage and cedar to the Gatekeeper, and as I do, I turn to see snake slither into the brush.
Snake and mole...
An older Ma lives at the edge of the forest next to the Gatekeeper. Knowing I have a bit of time, I decide to visit with her.
I return to my nervousness. “Will the students find a plant? Will they actually communicate with it?”
"Trust, trust, trust," she says.
Then she feels my deeper quandary and asks, "What is in your heart? When you feel perplexed or challenged, needy or emotional, ask yourself ‘What is in my heart?’ "
Holding her, she begins to sway.
"I am moved to be with you.
I am moved to be with you.
I am moved to be with you.
Wait...
Be yourself.
Stand in your centre.
And wait until someone comes into your life and says to you, ‘I am moved to be with you.’
Now go, it is too difficult to be student and teacher in this same moment. You are needed in your other role."
I place offerings at her base, and walk back to the fork, leaving my student role behind with Ma and stepping into my facilitator role. As I approach the Gatekeeper, I see movement in the grasses. This time little mouse makes her appearance. Ah, yes, thank you, little Myshka.
June 24th, 2012
Ma is a lover. She teaches about the heart. She twines her way around herself and her companions. She is with them for their lifetime – for her lifetime. If she holds too tight or smothers them, the companion will die. If she does not grow to the same heights, she will not get enough light, and she will die. They each feed from the same soil, they share water and resources. They communicate. When I observe the older Ma's, they are refined and balanced in their growth. They show their age – thick leathery bark for skin, twining branches that have character and follow a winding and curvaceous path of life, full in their growth yet not rambunctious. Many of the younger Ma's tend to be wild, overgrown, strangling their companions... There is much to be learned of the ways of the heart by observing them. I have been reflecting on Ma's teachings to me...
“Yes child, you are beginning to understand.” Ma seems pleased with my progress. “Tell me more… What does this mean to you, in your own life?”
I reply, “This open heart, where everything passes through freely, is felt deeply, without stickiness. I have reflected what this means of my nature as love, and as a loving being. If I mistakenly source myself on anyone's surface-love, I have lost my centre – I become embroiled in drama and surface stories. If someone disapproves of me, if I perceive rejection or potential loss, if someone lashes out at me – all of this is food for a story ‘love is gone’.”
“Oh, child, YES!” I can feel her excitement!
“Love is within and all around,” I continue. “The essence of all life is love, regardless of outer behaviour – where could it go?” I pause. She is silent, waiting…
“No security is available. You do not know if your companion will survive or not. No promise the tree-companion can make will guarantee your mutual-relationship will last. You each have full freedom to simply be yourselves, and thrive as best you can, given the circumstances that are offered (weather, climate, human and animal activity, etc...). And, the actions of one will affect the other. There is a certain direct feedback that happens in this waking-dream-reality of interconnection.” I pause again, waiting for approval, knowing she will not give approval.
The message that comes through my heart instead is one of love without demand. “You are right child, I will not give ‘approval.’ I will give love – a love that gives freedom.”
Her next transmission is wordless. She is here to teach me to have a heart that is open and breezy, clear-seeing, that dives deeply into the moment.
My heart has not been breezy. This lesson is rich and will take time to unfold in its completeness. I will need to shed many skins, and trust feeling my way through the dark.
No comments:
Post a Comment