Aug 2nd, 2012
I am at the Sacred Grove. I have commitments today, and chose to squeeze in a walk and visit beforehand. Making an offering to Guardian Ma, I ask if she has any lessons to offer.
She replies, "All lessons take time, my child."
A fitting lesson in itself.
"Offerings are welcome, and lessons require time." She imparts and image of sitting with her, feeling spacious, and it is clear – return another time.
Aug 4th, 2012
The sun is low on the horizon, the light streams between branches and leaves, to touch the ground with a dappling of golden light. Walking in pyjamas down the side path to the small garden, I kneel before it and look to the dry soil and small plants, feeling a growing kinship. Every morning since I planted the prayer-stick, I have been making a water offering with prayers. As if in recognition, perhaps anticipating the waters, the plants seem to wave quiet greetings in the barely-detectable morning breeze.
Once complete, I stand and turn to walk back. A sudden movement in the leaves close-by startles me. A little garter snake slithers through the ground-cover of sticks, small plants and dried Arbutus leaves. It must have been just behind me when I was making the offering.
I crouch to watch it. A minute goes by before it dares to move again. Slowly, it burrows with its snout into the loose assortment of leaves, twigs and plants on the ground, disappearing from view except for the slight movements of a small pile of leaves. Small movements continue, and then its head peaks out at the far side of the pile. A red tongue darts in and out and it surveys the landscape. Slowly, slowly, the snake moves from one covered area to another. Where its body is exposed, I am amazed at how it blends with the sticks on the ground.
The snake does not travel in a straight line – sometimes doubling back on itself, or moving in distinct angles from the previous track, its body resembles the haphazard array of dead branches. When it finds cover under leaves and such, I cannot tell that it is there – had I been walking and not seen it enter the small pile, I would never know a snake was somewhere amongst the forest floor.
I watch for 10 minutes as its body appears and disappears. And then I bid it goodbye. As I walk toward the house, something palpable of the encounter remains in my body – as if I had somehow absorbed snake-energy. As the impression continues, my memory returns to 2 days ago. Ahhhh, now I have a sense of what Ma was hinting at...
Lessons are not something transmitted on a "mind" and thinking level... They require time for the energies to penetrate, to entrain in my own body and being. To remain in my head seeking "answers" does not serve me – is not a teaching.
Aug 6th, 2012
My body and nervous system are on "high-alert." Every small sound, from birds to insects, cause me to involuntarily jump.
Tomorrow morning I leave for a planned 2-week vacation with my sons and parents, mixed with some business as well. My oldest son was stabbed two nights ago. "Luckily" it was just a punctured lung – no collapse, no infection. He was sent home a few hours ago, after 2 days of observation. Walking home Saturday night, he saw a man being beaten. Noble and naive, his attempts to break-up the fight resulted in being stabbed.
I am at the Sacred Grove. After all of the formalities of greetings, I ask Ma, "How is this a wake-up call?"
"Aligned living," is her response. "You cannot teach it if you are not living it. What do you value? Are you living it?"
I know what she is referring to. Am I in integrity with myself? Am I living aligned with my values and my heart-longings, like time with family? My life the past few years has been a blur of work, interspersed with condensed moments of connection to family, friends, or relaxation time.
It is beginning to rain – sprinkle – the first time in weeks. "Is there anything you would like to teach me before I go away?"
"Follow your heart, in all matters. Smile in your heart – find your joy."
"How can I be of service to you while I am away?"
"Spread the teachings, be the teachings," she replies.
The soft rains end quickly. I stand, hold Ma, and sway with her for a few silent minutes. A very gentle breeze blows and for a moment I catch an image of a rain storm on the ocean waters. Communication from afar between Ma and the winds.
As I walk away, I decide to visit the forest rather than go immediately home – just to clear my
mind and energy. My feet carry me on familiar routes for over an hour, and as I leave the forest, my thoughts turn to my son. At that moment, on the ground beside the path, something catches my eye. I bend over to see a feather standing perfectly upright. Picking it up – the spine of the feather is supple, pliable and the length of my palm. The feather itself is wisps of fine down, barely there.
"Delicate," it whispers to me.
And at once I understand the message – time together with loved ones is precious. Life is delicate. What do I value in my life? Am I living aligned with that?
Rounding one of the final bends, my mind once again turns to my son, and as it does, a very tiny feather floats down in front of me – wispy, like the other one.
"Delicate," it whispers.
I am at the Sacred Grove. I have commitments today, and chose to squeeze in a walk and visit beforehand. Making an offering to Guardian Ma, I ask if she has any lessons to offer.
She replies, "All lessons take time, my child."
A fitting lesson in itself.
"Offerings are welcome, and lessons require time." She imparts and image of sitting with her, feeling spacious, and it is clear – return another time.
Aug 4th, 2012
The sun is low on the horizon, the light streams between branches and leaves, to touch the ground with a dappling of golden light. Walking in pyjamas down the side path to the small garden, I kneel before it and look to the dry soil and small plants, feeling a growing kinship. Every morning since I planted the prayer-stick, I have been making a water offering with prayers. As if in recognition, perhaps anticipating the waters, the plants seem to wave quiet greetings in the barely-detectable morning breeze.
Once complete, I stand and turn to walk back. A sudden movement in the leaves close-by startles me. A little garter snake slithers through the ground-cover of sticks, small plants and dried Arbutus leaves. It must have been just behind me when I was making the offering.
I crouch to watch it. A minute goes by before it dares to move again. Slowly, it burrows with its snout into the loose assortment of leaves, twigs and plants on the ground, disappearing from view except for the slight movements of a small pile of leaves. Small movements continue, and then its head peaks out at the far side of the pile. A red tongue darts in and out and it surveys the landscape. Slowly, slowly, the snake moves from one covered area to another. Where its body is exposed, I am amazed at how it blends with the sticks on the ground.
The snake does not travel in a straight line – sometimes doubling back on itself, or moving in distinct angles from the previous track, its body resembles the haphazard array of dead branches. When it finds cover under leaves and such, I cannot tell that it is there – had I been walking and not seen it enter the small pile, I would never know a snake was somewhere amongst the forest floor.
I watch for 10 minutes as its body appears and disappears. And then I bid it goodbye. As I walk toward the house, something palpable of the encounter remains in my body – as if I had somehow absorbed snake-energy. As the impression continues, my memory returns to 2 days ago. Ahhhh, now I have a sense of what Ma was hinting at...
Lessons are not something transmitted on a "mind" and thinking level... They require time for the energies to penetrate, to entrain in my own body and being. To remain in my head seeking "answers" does not serve me – is not a teaching.
Aug 6th, 2012
My body and nervous system are on "high-alert." Every small sound, from birds to insects, cause me to involuntarily jump.
Tomorrow morning I leave for a planned 2-week vacation with my sons and parents, mixed with some business as well. My oldest son was stabbed two nights ago. "Luckily" it was just a punctured lung – no collapse, no infection. He was sent home a few hours ago, after 2 days of observation. Walking home Saturday night, he saw a man being beaten. Noble and naive, his attempts to break-up the fight resulted in being stabbed.
I am at the Sacred Grove. After all of the formalities of greetings, I ask Ma, "How is this a wake-up call?"
"Aligned living," is her response. "You cannot teach it if you are not living it. What do you value? Are you living it?"
I know what she is referring to. Am I in integrity with myself? Am I living aligned with my values and my heart-longings, like time with family? My life the past few years has been a blur of work, interspersed with condensed moments of connection to family, friends, or relaxation time.
It is beginning to rain – sprinkle – the first time in weeks. "Is there anything you would like to teach me before I go away?"
"Follow your heart, in all matters. Smile in your heart – find your joy."
"How can I be of service to you while I am away?"
"Spread the teachings, be the teachings," she replies.
The soft rains end quickly. I stand, hold Ma, and sway with her for a few silent minutes. A very gentle breeze blows and for a moment I catch an image of a rain storm on the ocean waters. Communication from afar between Ma and the winds.
As I walk away, I decide to visit the forest rather than go immediately home – just to clear my
mind and energy. My feet carry me on familiar routes for over an hour, and as I leave the forest, my thoughts turn to my son. At that moment, on the ground beside the path, something catches my eye. I bend over to see a feather standing perfectly upright. Picking it up – the spine of the feather is supple, pliable and the length of my palm. The feather itself is wisps of fine down, barely there.
"Delicate," it whispers to me.
And at once I understand the message – time together with loved ones is precious. Life is delicate. What do I value in my life? Am I living aligned with that?
Rounding one of the final bends, my mind once again turns to my son, and as it does, a very tiny feather floats down in front of me – wispy, like the other one.
"Delicate," it whispers.
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