July 27th, 2012
The forest is still. My mind is not. Tomorrow is the final day of journeying for the Plant-Spirit course and I am on a preparation walk. My mind has wandered to various scenarios, and as I enter the forest, I am lost in a bubble of my own thoughts. I am already 30 or 40 paces away from the fork when Gatekeeper calls my attention. I walk back, apologising for my lack of presence.
I take a breath, look to the sky, and remember why I am here doing this. Then, gathering offerings, I place them at the base of Gatekeeper. “Please help hold the container and bring protection for the students tomorrow.” Then, turning to look to the forest, “May you remember my energy and requests.”
Walking back up the hill, I visit Forest-Edge Ma and Little Ma, with the same request and offerings.
Grandfather Tree is my next stop. I walk uphill and around the corner to see a large, erect pine that must be 12 feet or more in circumference, and taller than I can measure with my eye. Making offerings and request, I turn to leave, and feel him asking me to stay.
He is so incredibly tall. I feel dwarfed in size and age beside him. He seems to want a hug, so I open my arms, which barely reach around 1/3 of his trunk. Relaxing my arms I lean my forehead onto his bark. He smells clean and a little like vanilla.
"Come and visit me, and be in quiet presence," he says. Layers slough off my shoulders and melt away from my mind and heart – responsibilities, should's and have-to's all fall away. For a moment I am awash in “being,” and breathe – really breathe – for the first time in a long time. I rest in his presence, aware it was he who actually hugged me, and then I take my leave.
I walk a few feet further to visit Grandmother Tree. She is equally tall, with her roots sprawling overtop an outcrop of rock, leaving an open cavern under her base. Three years ago, during one of my early walks in this forest, she helped me in a release of old energies. When I feel lost and in need of grounding and the presence of a grandmother, I go to her.
I place hair at her base, and tobacco and sage in a wrinkle of her bark, asking her to guide healing within community. As I turn to leave, I hear, "Stay a moment. Visit with me."
Facing her, I place a hand on her thick bark and rest my forehead again. She does not smell the same as Grandfather. Her bark has a spongier density, though it is also more abrasive at the surface.
"Look into my heart," she says. My eyes close – I see an image of the centre of her trunk in my mind’s eye. The forest around me whispers, “Grandmother is more than 200 years old.” I put my hand on her again and wish her a much longer life – far longer than my own – so that she may be of guidance for many others to come.
"Honour the ancient ones – my kind – in your prayers and rituals. And look into your own heart and soul. It too is ancient. Honour and hone the teachings that come through you."
“Yes, Grandmother.” The moment I step away, she whispers to me, "Take note of the teachings, or else you may forget.” I immediately pull out my notepad and begin to write out the events of the walk so far. When I get to Grandmother's teachings, I am completely blank. I turn to look at her. Nothing. I stand next to her. Still nothing. Sadness washes over my heart and I feel a slight panic rise in my chest and throat... When messages come through, my awareness is shifted. If I am not careful, the teachings become wisps and puffs of smoke and cloud that disperse easily. Trying to "think" them back does not usually work.
I walk away, letting my mind and heart relax. Within 100 feet, I suddenly remember her words, "Look into my heart," and everything she offered pours back into place. Simultaneously, a piercing cry from eagle rings out overhead, and something feels confirmed inside of me.
Rounding the next corner and climbing part way up the last steep hill, I prepare to step onto the path leading deeper into the forest when I hear Yarrow calling me. Though Yarrow is not on the path I take the students, I decide to attend to her request, so I walk to the top of the hill and see central Mother Yarrow. She is in her drying and seeding phase. I make offerings to her and touch her flowers, then caress her gently in my hand.
"Take me," she says. "No – I… I cannot. You are grandmother here..." As a general rule of wild-crafting, the mother or grandmother plants are to be left where they are – their spirit and force is strong and supports all of the offspring and the energy of the cluster.
"Then take me into your heart." I open my heart as I hold her, to breathe and welcome her into me. A gust of wind blows to consecrate the moment. As I feel her presence in my heart, she says, "Dream with me. Yarrow Feather Dreamer.” I assume this to be her name.
I feel a burst of joy and light from her. She keeps insisting, "Take me. Take me," almost as if she wants to dive into my heart. So, I take two small flowerettes from her stem, bring them to my lips and take them onto my tongue. She is bitter, fragrant, potent. I swallow.
"Now, you and I are one," she says. I have a sense of her as a woman, lounging on the rocks. My heart feels more full and more peaceful. "Dream with me this night. Now go, complete your walk."
I walk the rest of the circuit, making offerings as I go, and then head toward the Sacred Grove. I remember I am to visit Ma once before today, or twice before Sunday. Immediately on entering the grove, I greet Adorned One. Communicator catches my eye as I pass by to meet Guardian, and leave hair for Root Ma and Dark Ma. A little abruptly, Guardian says, "Burn sage as offering as well."
Guardian grows quiet after the smoke swirls about her. After a few moments, she utters, "You already know to go and seek Communicator."
After formalities and greetings, Communicator says, "Open the lines of your heart. Communicate from, with, and to your heart."
I pause a moment. "I have been feeling pulls and distractions inside my heart – attachments. I am afraid I am going to get caught in these attachments. I am not free, nor am I ultimately giving others freedom. How do I give freedom?"
"You have not accomplished an earlier lesson. You have not seen yourself fully. You have not loved yourself fully. You keep approaching this from emptiness instead of fullness. In fullness, you give... In emptiness, you take, you grasp."
The truth of this statement pierces something inside of me. Relief and grief simultaneously fill the inner space.
"Is there anything more?"
"Quiet your heart, sit and receive what is around you." Images of sitting quietly on my porch at night, and also sitting quietly in the forest arise.
"Is there anything else?" I ask again.
"No. Go home now, rest. Tomorrow is a long day."
July 28th, 2012
Each person silently immerses themselves on the footsteps of the person ahead of them, attempting to match rhythm and stride as a group… As the line of women synchronizes in movement, so too does breathing harmonize and minds grow simultaneously quiet.
A breeze blows intermittently as we walk, each gust feeling dense with whispers from the trees. This final experience as a group is punctuated by an acute awareness that we are being watched by everything around us. Raven crosses our path as we reach the road that leads us to the forest. Sitting on a low branch, he calls out a few times waiting for us to pass, and then he also grows quiet.
I walk with the students to the fork, and continue on the full circuit – finding a hidden meadow to pee in once all students have found their places – before returning to the fork. I look toward Forest-Edge Ma and Little Ma… There is time.
"Ma, I feel lost and unfocused. When I strip all of the outer-form off this journey, I do not know what it means to walk the Mol'farka's path..."
She replies, "Being Mol'farka is to share the medicines and teachings. To live them. It's who you be."
She pauses. "You share through teaching. It is your path. Imagine what your life would be if you did not teach."
A few images move through my mind. The first is of open simplicity – doing what I need to do to survive day-to-day – cultivating food, taking care of home... But I also feel a spaciousness that is devoid of purpose – a lack of deeper fulfillment. The next image is of my year of sabbatical. It was a time of many tasks and changes. And though the time away was useful, I also missed teaching.
"Who would you be? What would you do?"
"I don't know." That is the truth.
"Go and sit quietly. Absorb, observe, just be. Take a day and rediscover who you are. Only then, when you can know yourself, will you be able to know what it means to be Mol’farka."
The forest is still. My mind is not. Tomorrow is the final day of journeying for the Plant-Spirit course and I am on a preparation walk. My mind has wandered to various scenarios, and as I enter the forest, I am lost in a bubble of my own thoughts. I am already 30 or 40 paces away from the fork when Gatekeeper calls my attention. I walk back, apologising for my lack of presence.
I take a breath, look to the sky, and remember why I am here doing this. Then, gathering offerings, I place them at the base of Gatekeeper. “Please help hold the container and bring protection for the students tomorrow.” Then, turning to look to the forest, “May you remember my energy and requests.”
Walking back up the hill, I visit Forest-Edge Ma and Little Ma, with the same request and offerings.
Grandfather Tree is my next stop. I walk uphill and around the corner to see a large, erect pine that must be 12 feet or more in circumference, and taller than I can measure with my eye. Making offerings and request, I turn to leave, and feel him asking me to stay.
He is so incredibly tall. I feel dwarfed in size and age beside him. He seems to want a hug, so I open my arms, which barely reach around 1/3 of his trunk. Relaxing my arms I lean my forehead onto his bark. He smells clean and a little like vanilla.
"Come and visit me, and be in quiet presence," he says. Layers slough off my shoulders and melt away from my mind and heart – responsibilities, should's and have-to's all fall away. For a moment I am awash in “being,” and breathe – really breathe – for the first time in a long time. I rest in his presence, aware it was he who actually hugged me, and then I take my leave.
I walk a few feet further to visit Grandmother Tree. She is equally tall, with her roots sprawling overtop an outcrop of rock, leaving an open cavern under her base. Three years ago, during one of my early walks in this forest, she helped me in a release of old energies. When I feel lost and in need of grounding and the presence of a grandmother, I go to her.
I place hair at her base, and tobacco and sage in a wrinkle of her bark, asking her to guide healing within community. As I turn to leave, I hear, "Stay a moment. Visit with me."
Facing her, I place a hand on her thick bark and rest my forehead again. She does not smell the same as Grandfather. Her bark has a spongier density, though it is also more abrasive at the surface.
"Look into my heart," she says. My eyes close – I see an image of the centre of her trunk in my mind’s eye. The forest around me whispers, “Grandmother is more than 200 years old.” I put my hand on her again and wish her a much longer life – far longer than my own – so that she may be of guidance for many others to come.
"Honour the ancient ones – my kind – in your prayers and rituals. And look into your own heart and soul. It too is ancient. Honour and hone the teachings that come through you."
“Yes, Grandmother.” The moment I step away, she whispers to me, "Take note of the teachings, or else you may forget.” I immediately pull out my notepad and begin to write out the events of the walk so far. When I get to Grandmother's teachings, I am completely blank. I turn to look at her. Nothing. I stand next to her. Still nothing. Sadness washes over my heart and I feel a slight panic rise in my chest and throat... When messages come through, my awareness is shifted. If I am not careful, the teachings become wisps and puffs of smoke and cloud that disperse easily. Trying to "think" them back does not usually work.
I walk away, letting my mind and heart relax. Within 100 feet, I suddenly remember her words, "Look into my heart," and everything she offered pours back into place. Simultaneously, a piercing cry from eagle rings out overhead, and something feels confirmed inside of me.
Rounding the next corner and climbing part way up the last steep hill, I prepare to step onto the path leading deeper into the forest when I hear Yarrow calling me. Though Yarrow is not on the path I take the students, I decide to attend to her request, so I walk to the top of the hill and see central Mother Yarrow. She is in her drying and seeding phase. I make offerings to her and touch her flowers, then caress her gently in my hand.
"Take me," she says. "No – I… I cannot. You are grandmother here..." As a general rule of wild-crafting, the mother or grandmother plants are to be left where they are – their spirit and force is strong and supports all of the offspring and the energy of the cluster.
"Then take me into your heart." I open my heart as I hold her, to breathe and welcome her into me. A gust of wind blows to consecrate the moment. As I feel her presence in my heart, she says, "Dream with me. Yarrow Feather Dreamer.” I assume this to be her name.
I feel a burst of joy and light from her. She keeps insisting, "Take me. Take me," almost as if she wants to dive into my heart. So, I take two small flowerettes from her stem, bring them to my lips and take them onto my tongue. She is bitter, fragrant, potent. I swallow.
"Now, you and I are one," she says. I have a sense of her as a woman, lounging on the rocks. My heart feels more full and more peaceful. "Dream with me this night. Now go, complete your walk."
I walk the rest of the circuit, making offerings as I go, and then head toward the Sacred Grove. I remember I am to visit Ma once before today, or twice before Sunday. Immediately on entering the grove, I greet Adorned One. Communicator catches my eye as I pass by to meet Guardian, and leave hair for Root Ma and Dark Ma. A little abruptly, Guardian says, "Burn sage as offering as well."
Guardian grows quiet after the smoke swirls about her. After a few moments, she utters, "You already know to go and seek Communicator."
After formalities and greetings, Communicator says, "Open the lines of your heart. Communicate from, with, and to your heart."
I pause a moment. "I have been feeling pulls and distractions inside my heart – attachments. I am afraid I am going to get caught in these attachments. I am not free, nor am I ultimately giving others freedom. How do I give freedom?"
"You have not accomplished an earlier lesson. You have not seen yourself fully. You have not loved yourself fully. You keep approaching this from emptiness instead of fullness. In fullness, you give... In emptiness, you take, you grasp."
The truth of this statement pierces something inside of me. Relief and grief simultaneously fill the inner space.
"Is there anything more?"
"Quiet your heart, sit and receive what is around you." Images of sitting quietly on my porch at night, and also sitting quietly in the forest arise.
"Is there anything else?" I ask again.
"No. Go home now, rest. Tomorrow is a long day."
July 28th, 2012
Each person silently immerses themselves on the footsteps of the person ahead of them, attempting to match rhythm and stride as a group… As the line of women synchronizes in movement, so too does breathing harmonize and minds grow simultaneously quiet.
A breeze blows intermittently as we walk, each gust feeling dense with whispers from the trees. This final experience as a group is punctuated by an acute awareness that we are being watched by everything around us. Raven crosses our path as we reach the road that leads us to the forest. Sitting on a low branch, he calls out a few times waiting for us to pass, and then he also grows quiet.
I walk with the students to the fork, and continue on the full circuit – finding a hidden meadow to pee in once all students have found their places – before returning to the fork. I look toward Forest-Edge Ma and Little Ma… There is time.
"Ma, I feel lost and unfocused. When I strip all of the outer-form off this journey, I do not know what it means to walk the Mol'farka's path..."
She replies, "Being Mol'farka is to share the medicines and teachings. To live them. It's who you be."
She pauses. "You share through teaching. It is your path. Imagine what your life would be if you did not teach."
A few images move through my mind. The first is of open simplicity – doing what I need to do to survive day-to-day – cultivating food, taking care of home... But I also feel a spaciousness that is devoid of purpose – a lack of deeper fulfillment. The next image is of my year of sabbatical. It was a time of many tasks and changes. And though the time away was useful, I also missed teaching.
"Who would you be? What would you do?"
"I don't know." That is the truth.
"Go and sit quietly. Absorb, observe, just be. Take a day and rediscover who you are. Only then, when you can know yourself, will you be able to know what it means to be Mol’farka."
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