Sept 29th, 2012
Brushing my teeth, I am wearing three shawls for warmth. Autumn evenings are chilly, and the house is cool in nature. The mirror image of the breadth of my shoulders under all the layers stirs a memory…
Yesterday in class, while making prayers during morning ceremony, an image of a Bear-cloak appeared in my mind's eye. The image was momentary. Something ancestral was stirred through this vision – though I lack words or direct knowledge of what.
Sept 30th, 2012
I awaken and sit in my bed, an electric heat running through my body like a wire that is red-hot. I have spent the past week engulfed in inner-fires as my moon-time matches the fullness of the moon. My mind returns to the bear-cloak. I wonder if I am to “wear” the bear cloak as a symbol of returning to the womb-cave?
I pick up a book on Sacred Plant Medicine (by Stephen Harrod Bhuner), and it opens to an herb called Osha. As I read, it is medicine used, known and coveted by bears to prevent viral and bacterial infections. The chapter ends with a story of a man who is gravely ill knocking on the doors of the village, and finally coming to a small and simple home of a woman at the edge of town. She allows him to stay and offers him all the medicine she knows. Yet, he grows more and more ill, and when the end of his life seems inevitable, he calls her to his bedside and says that he has been given a vision of a plant that might help him. He tells her what he has seen in his vision, and how he has been shown to harvest and prepare the medicine. She searches and finds the plant where he suggested it would be, prepares the medicine, and he begins to recover. And yet, he falls ill again, and again he seems near to death, when he is given another vision that she is to act upon. This pattern repeats itself several times over the course of a year. When at last he finally recovers, he walks off assuming his Bear-form, and says to the woman that it was prophesized that he would meet her and offer her these teachings.
~*~
I walk under the full harvest moon along the winding roadside. So bright, she shines! Part way to Ma and the Sacred Grove, a misty shadow of a spirit hovers on the side of the road. I do not have time to consider what I’ll do – a car passes by, and the spirit form is no longer visible in the blaring headlights. By the time my eyes re-adjust I have walked past it.
Mother Moon has made it easy for me to find my way to the Sacred Grove. I sit with Guardian and Root Ma for a few moments, and make offerings to them. My mind is busy – hardly able to settle. I pour my thoughts out, and find, in return, Ma acting as a mirror that reflects my thoughts back to me – amplified! I sit a while, attempting to connect to Ma, unable to escape the loudness of my own thoughts echoing all around me. I have the impulse to go to Storyteller.
Standing before Storyteller, I make formal greetings and then hold her. The moonlight is intense, and shines through the silhouette of leaves and branches so brightly that I need to turn my body and face toward the darkness of the forest. Rather than seeking guidance from her, I decide to tell her a story.
“Ma, I have been feeling disconnected from my heart since this semester of teaching began 6 weeks ago.” As I speak, I feel her winding her way into my heart, feeling me – and prying my heart open so I can feel myself. I pause, breathe for several moments, and finally put order to the inner chaos. “My heart feels split, Ma. I feel complacency with "what is" in my life, perhaps even a resignation… And, yet, I yearn for deeper intimacy, with all of life. I want to feel fully here, alive, enriched…” As the words tumble out, self-affirmations arise... I deserve love, affection, play, relaxation, joy, fullness. And then pain arises – the sadness of my heart.
In return, Storyteller begins to throb in my hands. She throbs like a deep, thick and full heart-beat – much slower and deeper than my own. Perhaps this is the heart-beat of the Bear, or of Gaia, or of Ma's heart? I feel it for several minutes – it is somehow deeply reassuring and grounding.
With no other words to offer, I leave Storyteller, aware that it is getting quite late. Walking to Adorned Ma, I greet her and glance at the entrance-way to the Grove. For the first time, perhaps because of the play of the moonlight, I notice a small fallen tree with a dead vine of Ma twined around the still-standing lower trunk of the tree. I walk up and touch the dead Ma. Suddenly she begins to talk. I am startled, though I feel an instant connection deep into my heart.
In my surprise I say, "But you are dead..."
Fallen Ma replies, "Yes, so are you... You are dead to your life, child."
I look around, the Grove still lit in the luminosity of the moon. I am still surprised at the connection with Fallen Ma.
"When are you going to start living, child? Living the life you envision and deserve?"
My mind turns to teaching at the college, and she whispers, "Take an honest look at what you do – how much you do. Is this really what you want for the next 5-10 years? Look into your heart and know what you want... And then start living it."
I thank Fallen Ma and begin to walk home. With each footstep, I feel my life – compact, concentrated, full... And I realise that to even feel it fully will require some space and time –something that is not readily available when the work-days are 12-15 hrs in length, including weekends. I energetically put on my Bear-cloak and know it is time to retreat to my cave, and become the medicine of Bear.
Oct 2nd, 2012
Potent dream. Bear medicine has birthed within me.
Brushing my teeth, I am wearing three shawls for warmth. Autumn evenings are chilly, and the house is cool in nature. The mirror image of the breadth of my shoulders under all the layers stirs a memory…
Yesterday in class, while making prayers during morning ceremony, an image of a Bear-cloak appeared in my mind's eye. The image was momentary. Something ancestral was stirred through this vision – though I lack words or direct knowledge of what.
Sept 30th, 2012
I awaken and sit in my bed, an electric heat running through my body like a wire that is red-hot. I have spent the past week engulfed in inner-fires as my moon-time matches the fullness of the moon. My mind returns to the bear-cloak. I wonder if I am to “wear” the bear cloak as a symbol of returning to the womb-cave?
I pick up a book on Sacred Plant Medicine (by Stephen Harrod Bhuner), and it opens to an herb called Osha. As I read, it is medicine used, known and coveted by bears to prevent viral and bacterial infections. The chapter ends with a story of a man who is gravely ill knocking on the doors of the village, and finally coming to a small and simple home of a woman at the edge of town. She allows him to stay and offers him all the medicine she knows. Yet, he grows more and more ill, and when the end of his life seems inevitable, he calls her to his bedside and says that he has been given a vision of a plant that might help him. He tells her what he has seen in his vision, and how he has been shown to harvest and prepare the medicine. She searches and finds the plant where he suggested it would be, prepares the medicine, and he begins to recover. And yet, he falls ill again, and again he seems near to death, when he is given another vision that she is to act upon. This pattern repeats itself several times over the course of a year. When at last he finally recovers, he walks off assuming his Bear-form, and says to the woman that it was prophesized that he would meet her and offer her these teachings.
~*~
I walk under the full harvest moon along the winding roadside. So bright, she shines! Part way to Ma and the Sacred Grove, a misty shadow of a spirit hovers on the side of the road. I do not have time to consider what I’ll do – a car passes by, and the spirit form is no longer visible in the blaring headlights. By the time my eyes re-adjust I have walked past it.
Mother Moon has made it easy for me to find my way to the Sacred Grove. I sit with Guardian and Root Ma for a few moments, and make offerings to them. My mind is busy – hardly able to settle. I pour my thoughts out, and find, in return, Ma acting as a mirror that reflects my thoughts back to me – amplified! I sit a while, attempting to connect to Ma, unable to escape the loudness of my own thoughts echoing all around me. I have the impulse to go to Storyteller.
Standing before Storyteller, I make formal greetings and then hold her. The moonlight is intense, and shines through the silhouette of leaves and branches so brightly that I need to turn my body and face toward the darkness of the forest. Rather than seeking guidance from her, I decide to tell her a story.
“Ma, I have been feeling disconnected from my heart since this semester of teaching began 6 weeks ago.” As I speak, I feel her winding her way into my heart, feeling me – and prying my heart open so I can feel myself. I pause, breathe for several moments, and finally put order to the inner chaos. “My heart feels split, Ma. I feel complacency with "what is" in my life, perhaps even a resignation… And, yet, I yearn for deeper intimacy, with all of life. I want to feel fully here, alive, enriched…” As the words tumble out, self-affirmations arise... I deserve love, affection, play, relaxation, joy, fullness. And then pain arises – the sadness of my heart.
In return, Storyteller begins to throb in my hands. She throbs like a deep, thick and full heart-beat – much slower and deeper than my own. Perhaps this is the heart-beat of the Bear, or of Gaia, or of Ma's heart? I feel it for several minutes – it is somehow deeply reassuring and grounding.
With no other words to offer, I leave Storyteller, aware that it is getting quite late. Walking to Adorned Ma, I greet her and glance at the entrance-way to the Grove. For the first time, perhaps because of the play of the moonlight, I notice a small fallen tree with a dead vine of Ma twined around the still-standing lower trunk of the tree. I walk up and touch the dead Ma. Suddenly she begins to talk. I am startled, though I feel an instant connection deep into my heart.
In my surprise I say, "But you are dead..."
Fallen Ma replies, "Yes, so are you... You are dead to your life, child."
I look around, the Grove still lit in the luminosity of the moon. I am still surprised at the connection with Fallen Ma.
"When are you going to start living, child? Living the life you envision and deserve?"
My mind turns to teaching at the college, and she whispers, "Take an honest look at what you do – how much you do. Is this really what you want for the next 5-10 years? Look into your heart and know what you want... And then start living it."
I thank Fallen Ma and begin to walk home. With each footstep, I feel my life – compact, concentrated, full... And I realise that to even feel it fully will require some space and time –something that is not readily available when the work-days are 12-15 hrs in length, including weekends. I energetically put on my Bear-cloak and know it is time to retreat to my cave, and become the medicine of Bear.
Oct 2nd, 2012
A small room… Several people
around me… A young female Bear is lying on the floor next to the far
wall. She is in labour, and seems to be somewhat distant – not present – to
what is happening in her body. I am midwife to her, though I am not
exactly clear how to support her. A wordless exchange – and she expresses
she just needs me to be present to her. Within a few contractions, a baby
bear is born. Suddenly the young Bear-Mother comes to life and begins to
lick up the afterbirth and blood.
Potent dream. Bear medicine has birthed within me.
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