Cadair Idris

Song

drink in the waters of life

swim in the ocean of blood

to rise
fall

to fly so deep

in fire

towers burn white

wings beat inside thunder

break open

heart
bones

shatter to the wind

angel dust

Picture by Lynzi Wildheart
*

"those who took neither side

when Lucifer and the Trinity

fought ~

those angels,

noble and worthy,

who were compelled to descend to earth

to this same stone"

The Grail Legend ~ The Grail as Stone. p 150. E.Jung & M-L Von Franz

"The vessel is always One, and it must be round

like the vault of heaven so that celestial influences

can contribute to the work. It is also often called a matrix or uterus,

in which the filius philosphorum is born,

and at the same time it is, in a mysterious way,

identical with its contents. For instance, it is simply the aqua permanens itself.

Mercurius is 'our true hidden vessel, and also the Philosophical Garden

in which our sun rises and ascends."

The Grail Legend ~ The Grail as Stone. p142. E. Jung & M-L Von Franz

Letting Go Letting In

I have planned many journeys. Bought the guide books, heard the stories. Analysed the ordnance survey maps. Gazed on photographs. I have believed the weather forecasts trying to hide from rain. I have imagined that only certain parts would challenge me. That others would be more beautiful. I have assumed that if not marked on the map it would not exist.

Dancing between desire and fear to be open to discovery and surprise. The biggest surprise time and time again is realising that though I have chosen to walk a path. I in fact cannot know what I will feel. What I will learn. What I will experience. 

I can set out wanting to find bluebells only to find an abundance of yellow flowered gorse followed by not one or two but four blisters. Or in my fear of the urgency of a horse wanting to speak to me ~  I would be lost having to walk a main road instead of a wooded path. With blisters burning hot as I felt so alone as I realised I had walked miles in the wrong direction.
Finally I would arrive at my destination, a bus stop with the growing realisation that I had learnt about listening. Listening to my fear instead of running so that I could speak and hear the horse. That I could talk with my body so that the blisters did not burst and did not burn with too much pain.

Each of my journeys have had such surprises. A richness. Bitter and sweet medicine that has healed those parts which I need to let go of. Those parts which I have cherished. I have learnt that abundance can only exist if it has space. Where there is life there must be death. Beginnings and endings. It is all part of life. And so it is with sadness and joy that I reflect on my last journey. With the realisation that with every exploration and discovery I cast away the maps, the books, photographs and shed the old stories. And I learn again to walk bare foot on the earth.

Cadair Idris

And so I return, once again from the mountain lake formed from ice.

To drink in ancient memory.

To listen to the Song

Distant soft thunder like bees.

To drink in the nectar of a million stars.

Birthing and dying.

To see the depths blue black dive into Sky.

To touch the light swimming buried deep

reflecting so bright above.

To stare into the guardians bright yellow Eyes

 Masked white by sea bird face.

At once fierce clear and soft, paddling on the water or soaring in the clouds.

In sky's clear blue or sharp black with rain.

Their calls cry shot arrow from the winds.

To shelter beside tender violet flower heads, barely nodding

Silently solitary sheltering in the edge.

I wake alive

Skin to earth

Bone to stone.

Breath to water.