The ferns in their deep hibernation are beautiful, offering their shades of russet.
Timing is a force with power. Many moons ago, a dear friend told me that she was guided to gift me a massage. Each time I came to the mountain, the timing did not work for either of us. This time, coming off the days of pressure unlike any my body had experienced, the timing aligned. I had long been guided not to have others work on my body, this time my cells were quivering with anticipation for her touch. My friend and I share a deep connection with the Elohim, the weavers of form. She wove her magic with my body, taking it from its emptied husk to enlivened, anchored form.
Logs lurking like ancient sea monsters, riding in you and me.
Sound is the catalyst. She encouraged me to make sounds as she would do so also. My body relaxed and opened as layers came rolling off. I saw a myriad of masculine indigenous lifetimes flow past. I felt the ceremonies of initiation where my body was tattooed, pierced, cut, and carved into. All a part of spiritual practices to bring ourselves closer to the Creator. At times, the releasing was physically painful but the sounds were waves that allowed me to travel above the pain. I heard the drumming,the chanting, my voice and hers a Native American song, Tibetan, ancient cries. At one point, as she worked on my neck and the cords and knives of a past came in sharply, the dolphins sang through my voice with their high pitched notes, pulling me up and through that death experience. I saw how we have always used the power of sound to take us beyond the confines of this reality. Modern society has taught us to mute our voices, to be embarrassed to open our throats and let our voices sound their laments and praise.
Lifetimes’ cellular memory released and the perfection of the timing and the gift, filled me with gratitude. My friend, a master divine. Space was created, allowing more of my essence, room. Expansion is intoxicating! I am lighter in every way. Hallejulah!
This full moon managed to part the clouds of the night to shine its brilliance on us for the evening. Fire in the hearth, pulling the trinity of this household together. Tarot deck of cards, altar created with the bits of beauty collected on my walk through the woods, three candles added their flame. My card, a woman, naked, spread eagle, holding wands of the elements. Aflame in her knowing of self and life. Yes, I am this. I claim my beauty and fire. I let it breathe me. Mary Magdalene came through our conversation. She asked to speak through my voice, words dropping in our hearts as an elixir of love. The feminine Christ has come. We chanted a Seneca love song to the moon, our hearts mirroring her fullness. Our talk melted away as we each dropped into silence. Quiet communion, harmony felt and woven our trinity a chalice for the flame of love. Later, we stirred, to hug and whisper wishes for sweet dreams as we each made our way to bed.
Our reflections are becoming clearer in this new light of love.
This is the new landscape. No need to plan. Trusting to the timing and our own hearts. Allowing life to breathe us, allowing love to live and move us. Tears flow in gratitude for the wonder of it all. Deep sighs escape my lips as I commune with All. I have come home to myself and there is great rejoicing.
