July 29th, 2012
Somewhere between texts, emails, phone calls, work, family,
some emotional challenges and past issues to deal with, it is now late
afternoon, and I am finally walking toward the Counsel of Trees. I had
planned to start the day with the task from Ma – resentment washes through me
for all the demands and drama of the day.
And then, I humble myself. Who am I to resent what I’m given? And, as I continue to walk, I realize the delay is a gift – I no longer have obligations calling me back home. I can take the time I need to wander the forest and do as Ma asked.
As I enter the ring of trees marking the Counsel, I look to the outer perimeter for Ma. Approaching her, I make formal salutations and burn one leaf of my rapidly depleting supply of sage. “Please be my guide here at the Counsel today?” I feel her silent consent.
Turning, I walk a few paces, my eyes to the ground looking at the array of moss at my feet. With each step my heart is unsheathed, and a mixture of sensations begin to tumble through the inner space. I reach the centre of the Counsel, lift my eyes and feel the impact of being witnessed – the branch that usually extends out to meet me at eye-level from I See You Tree is now bowing perfectly to heart-level. My heart feels naked.
I attempt to clear myself, to no avail. My intention was to come and contemplate what it means to walk this path – how I want to define this role in my life… I simply will not find inner space until I first work with what’s here – theme of the day…
"I stand before you with old pain in my heart, and yet I also feel completely at peace with where I have been and the choices I made. It was messy and yet all I could muster at the time. I do not regret anything of the self-discovery, growth, and change... And yet I feel remnants of old defensive anger and justification – that are ultimately me being angry at myself for not being more firm and clear in my words, boundaries and actions..."
I pause for a moment. Everyone around me is silent, listening, holding space, waiting... The mosquitoes are beginning to swarm. I do my best to ignore them.
Something potent arises within – a glimmer, a clarity... I continue on my soliloquy: "The pain I caused another simultaneously ignited my own healing of issues so intensely deep and personal that I do not feel regret about any of it. I have sadness and remorse for causing pain. And yet, I was who I was and I have compassion for myself. As a result, I now know what agreements I need in relationship, what I value, want and need in communication and relations..."
I grow silent. Cedar speaks gently, "Just be clear, really clear. Take responsibility and then be clear."
"Do you have guidance about my current dilemma?"
"It's all the same lesson, child. It's all the same lesson."
As I kneel in the centre of the Counsel of Trees, a fluffy, fat bumble bee begins to dig in the dirt. There are no flowers nor moisture around for as far as I can see. I am surprised with this little creature's actions. Knowing that some bumble-bees make their nest in the dirt, I wonder why he has chosen here, now.
"Digging in the dirt, coming home to myself..."
The mosquitoes are now too intense to ignore. I decide to walk to the top of the mountain to find a place with shade where the beautiful afternoon breeze will keep the mosquitoes at bay.
Passing Mother Yarrow, I pause to sit with her. She is even drier than she was a few days ago. She is quiet when I approach her with offerings. As I sit next to her, letting the sun soak into my skin for a few moments, I hear the cackle and croaks of two ravens, each sitting atop adjacent electrical towers about 20 feet from one another. They take turns speaking. “It's Ok to speak and keep a distance. Not everything has to be taken into your personal circle. Honour your boundaries and needs."
As their message sinks in, they fly away.
Mother Yarrow continues in quiet presence. Spider hides in Yarrow's flowerettes. "There is no need to always expose yourself." Spider begins to move about, and it is clear, she is using her positioning as a wise hunting and survival strategy. She turns to see me. We peer at one another for a time. "I see you," I say and feel in my heart. She bows in acknowledgement, and then repositions herself on another flowerette.
I ask Mother Yarrow for guidance. She moves the pain from my heart to my throat. "Drink me," she says. "Dream with me. Now, go do your contemplation. The answers will live through your relationships."
I climb to the top of the rock-mounds of this mountain, and find a shaded seat in the moss overlooking the valley of trees and ocean inlet, peering at the neighbouring mountain. As I turn to look behind me, I see the path I walked to get here, and in the distance, the ocean that surrounds us.
For a long few minutes, I simply take in the view. A turkey-vulture sits high atop another electrical tower. Ravens are riding the air thermals over the down-slope of hill and trees in the valley. A full breeze is blowing against my skin. I am alone, and my heart is feeling more settled.
I take out my journal and contemplate my question. What does it mean to walk the path of Mol'farka?
I write random thoughts. I write other people's thoughts. Authentic words, the words of my heart, begin to find their way to the page... It takes time. Nothing is clear. Nothing is refined. Somewhere amongst the many words strewn across my heart, the answer – my answer – may be found.
I ask the 65 year old within me. She lives this path completely, inside and out. Her life is aligned and saturated with the teachings. They are fully embodied in her, and she has matured within them. What is your answer? I ask.
What arises in answer are not words, but images... She lives sustainably – she has built her own home from what is given around her, in respect and honour for the land, its seasons and ways. She lives connected to community, and yet also nurtures her sojourn-time to deepen her listening to the spirit-teachers and allies. She is one amongst her beloveds. And she lives and performs the duties of an elder Mol'farka.
A drawing emerges of her home, food-gardens, sacred medicine and ritual space, and the forest and hills that surround her.
I put away the journal and sit quietly for some time. And, then, as movement nudges me, I explore the other side of the mountain – walking a landscape I have not yet stepped upon. I am struck by the beauty of rocks, trees, and wide-open sky. Stepping onto a plateau, I find a Raven feather, and know this is a confirmation of my efforts today. A few steps further, I find a gnarled and weathered arbutus branch – grey from its time in the sun and rains... Strangely, despite its age, the mosses have not grown over it. As I lift it from the ground, the only traces of its history are three dimples in the moss showing its former resting place. I ask the moss and branch if it’s OK to take it with me... The consensus is yes.
Holding it in my hands, I know it to be an important marker. It will become a prayer-stick, planted in the ground on the property where I live, marking the way home. And, it will help to hold the energies and teachings being woven into the land there – the weaving of the fabric of what to means to be Mol'farka.
~*~
Before sleep, a flurry of intentions begins to coalesce in my heart. I sit on the floor in front of my altar and, with marker and blank squares of fabric, I write...
May I represent, transmit and empower the living, evolving traditions and values
And then, I humble myself. Who am I to resent what I’m given? And, as I continue to walk, I realize the delay is a gift – I no longer have obligations calling me back home. I can take the time I need to wander the forest and do as Ma asked.
As I enter the ring of trees marking the Counsel, I look to the outer perimeter for Ma. Approaching her, I make formal salutations and burn one leaf of my rapidly depleting supply of sage. “Please be my guide here at the Counsel today?” I feel her silent consent.
Turning, I walk a few paces, my eyes to the ground looking at the array of moss at my feet. With each step my heart is unsheathed, and a mixture of sensations begin to tumble through the inner space. I reach the centre of the Counsel, lift my eyes and feel the impact of being witnessed – the branch that usually extends out to meet me at eye-level from I See You Tree is now bowing perfectly to heart-level. My heart feels naked.
I attempt to clear myself, to no avail. My intention was to come and contemplate what it means to walk this path – how I want to define this role in my life… I simply will not find inner space until I first work with what’s here – theme of the day…
"I stand before you with old pain in my heart, and yet I also feel completely at peace with where I have been and the choices I made. It was messy and yet all I could muster at the time. I do not regret anything of the self-discovery, growth, and change... And yet I feel remnants of old defensive anger and justification – that are ultimately me being angry at myself for not being more firm and clear in my words, boundaries and actions..."
I pause for a moment. Everyone around me is silent, listening, holding space, waiting... The mosquitoes are beginning to swarm. I do my best to ignore them.
Something potent arises within – a glimmer, a clarity... I continue on my soliloquy: "The pain I caused another simultaneously ignited my own healing of issues so intensely deep and personal that I do not feel regret about any of it. I have sadness and remorse for causing pain. And yet, I was who I was and I have compassion for myself. As a result, I now know what agreements I need in relationship, what I value, want and need in communication and relations..."
I grow silent. Cedar speaks gently, "Just be clear, really clear. Take responsibility and then be clear."
"Do you have guidance about my current dilemma?"
"It's all the same lesson, child. It's all the same lesson."
As I kneel in the centre of the Counsel of Trees, a fluffy, fat bumble bee begins to dig in the dirt. There are no flowers nor moisture around for as far as I can see. I am surprised with this little creature's actions. Knowing that some bumble-bees make their nest in the dirt, I wonder why he has chosen here, now.
"Digging in the dirt, coming home to myself..."
The mosquitoes are now too intense to ignore. I decide to walk to the top of the mountain to find a place with shade where the beautiful afternoon breeze will keep the mosquitoes at bay.
Passing Mother Yarrow, I pause to sit with her. She is even drier than she was a few days ago. She is quiet when I approach her with offerings. As I sit next to her, letting the sun soak into my skin for a few moments, I hear the cackle and croaks of two ravens, each sitting atop adjacent electrical towers about 20 feet from one another. They take turns speaking. “It's Ok to speak and keep a distance. Not everything has to be taken into your personal circle. Honour your boundaries and needs."
As their message sinks in, they fly away.
Mother Yarrow continues in quiet presence. Spider hides in Yarrow's flowerettes. "There is no need to always expose yourself." Spider begins to move about, and it is clear, she is using her positioning as a wise hunting and survival strategy. She turns to see me. We peer at one another for a time. "I see you," I say and feel in my heart. She bows in acknowledgement, and then repositions herself on another flowerette.
I ask Mother Yarrow for guidance. She moves the pain from my heart to my throat. "Drink me," she says. "Dream with me. Now, go do your contemplation. The answers will live through your relationships."
I climb to the top of the rock-mounds of this mountain, and find a shaded seat in the moss overlooking the valley of trees and ocean inlet, peering at the neighbouring mountain. As I turn to look behind me, I see the path I walked to get here, and in the distance, the ocean that surrounds us.
For a long few minutes, I simply take in the view. A turkey-vulture sits high atop another electrical tower. Ravens are riding the air thermals over the down-slope of hill and trees in the valley. A full breeze is blowing against my skin. I am alone, and my heart is feeling more settled.
I take out my journal and contemplate my question. What does it mean to walk the path of Mol'farka?
I write random thoughts. I write other people's thoughts. Authentic words, the words of my heart, begin to find their way to the page... It takes time. Nothing is clear. Nothing is refined. Somewhere amongst the many words strewn across my heart, the answer – my answer – may be found.
I ask the 65 year old within me. She lives this path completely, inside and out. Her life is aligned and saturated with the teachings. They are fully embodied in her, and she has matured within them. What is your answer? I ask.
What arises in answer are not words, but images... She lives sustainably – she has built her own home from what is given around her, in respect and honour for the land, its seasons and ways. She lives connected to community, and yet also nurtures her sojourn-time to deepen her listening to the spirit-teachers and allies. She is one amongst her beloveds. And she lives and performs the duties of an elder Mol'farka.
A drawing emerges of her home, food-gardens, sacred medicine and ritual space, and the forest and hills that surround her.
I put away the journal and sit quietly for some time. And, then, as movement nudges me, I explore the other side of the mountain – walking a landscape I have not yet stepped upon. I am struck by the beauty of rocks, trees, and wide-open sky. Stepping onto a plateau, I find a Raven feather, and know this is a confirmation of my efforts today. A few steps further, I find a gnarled and weathered arbutus branch – grey from its time in the sun and rains... Strangely, despite its age, the mosses have not grown over it. As I lift it from the ground, the only traces of its history are three dimples in the moss showing its former resting place. I ask the moss and branch if it’s OK to take it with me... The consensus is yes.
Holding it in my hands, I know it to be an important marker. It will become a prayer-stick, planted in the ground on the property where I live, marking the way home. And, it will help to hold the energies and teachings being woven into the land there – the weaving of the fabric of what to means to be Mol'farka.
~*~
Before sleep, a flurry of intentions begins to coalesce in my heart. I sit on the floor in front of my altar and, with marker and blank squares of fabric, I write...
May I be free.
May I stand in my centre.
Everything that flows in, may I
give it all away freely,
for the benefit of all beings
everywhere.
May I create life as acts of
loving freedom.
May I recognize that deep work
on this path is in no way superficial.
May all my acts in this world
be a total and complete
expression of the deeper medicine.
I am a dedication to
clear-heart-seeing.
I am the Deeper Medicine.
May I represent Gaia and the
forces and spirits of Nature.
May I help forge a path of
reconnection, healing,
balance and aware-living
that honours and values these
interdependent relations and clear-heart-being.
May I represent, transmit and empower the living, evolving traditions and values
of community and Nature,
protect their integrity,
and provide a pathway for their
living through others.
As I look at the prayer cloths, I know these to be the
declarations – my declarations – of
what it means to walk the Medicine Path, the path of Mol'farka.
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