Cadair Idris

Becoming Ferrell & remembering ~ I too like this Land have lost parts of myself

ALTAI

Photo of Altai Mountian Range: http://www.aquerius.co.uk/altai/

Sometimes it takes a few nudges from Spirit for the message to get through. A few weeks ago a woman lent me a book and said to me Spirit had told her that I needed to read this. I thanked her and placed it on my pile of books to read. Promtly forgetting it. Then last week another handed me this book and said that if I had not read it I should and gave me it to me. I took it home then realizing it was the same book. Following is a review from Reed Business Information, Inc. Product Description:

“When the young Russian psychiatrist Olga Kharitidi set out on an impetuous journey into the snowbound Altai Mountains of Siberia, she never dreamed that her experience there would shatter and rebuild her view of reality. Among the wintry villages and pine forests of Siberia, guided by mysterious native sages, Kharitidi unearthed the wellspring of the worlds mystical traditions, discovered deep secrets of healing and magic, and encountered revolutionary teachings about the true nature of the human soul. Entering the Circle shares her thrilling adventure–and her stunning discoveries–with the world. As a dedicated young psychiatrist at an austere state hospital in the former Soviet Union, Olga Kharitidi battled the difficulties of Soviet life and the constraints of medical science in her fight to save her suffering patients. Joining an ailing friend on a spur-of-the-moment trip into Siberia’s Altai Mountains, Kharitidi was launched on an unexpected journey of revelation when she was taken into apprenticeship by an enigmatic native shaman. The wild adventure that followed would forever change Kharitidi’s view of healing, science, consciousness–and the potential of the human soul itself. Entering the Circle shares Kharitidi’s remarkable true story and the revelatory teachings she received during her sojourn with mysterious sages of Siberia. Guided through bizarre, magical, and often terrifying experiences by her shaman-teacher Umai–and by a radical Soviet physicist whose studies challenged the very nature of reality–Kharitidi unlocked a storehouse of spiritual learning that had lain hidden in inaccessible Siberia for centuries. Deep in Siberia, Kharitidi’s path of knowledge led her ever closer to unlocking the secrets of Belovodia, also known as Shambala, a fabled civilization of highly evolved humans who have for eons spread their sacred knowledge through the world’s great faiths, including Buddhism, Christian mysticism, Sufism, and Vedic Hinduism. She learned, through firsthand experience, that waking reality–the fabric of our daily lives–is only the near shore of our Spirit Lake, the sea of…..(?)”

The name of the book is ~ "Entering the Circle - Ancient Secrets of Siberian Wisdom Discovered by a Russian Psychiatrist" by Olga Kharitidi. Olga Kharitidi makes reference to a frozen mummy discovered in 1993. Apparently 1 of aprox 700 other tombs in the area.

‎"In 1993 a frozen mummy nicknamed 'The Ice Maiden' was discovered in the Altai Mountains in Siberia (see image). The unique preservation of this tattooed mummy and the warming Altai climate prompted Russian archaeologists to transport her... to the Siberian capital of Novosibirsk for scientific study. The removal resulted in political unrest in the local shaman community, located in the Kosh-Agach region, who demanded that the mummy be reinterred. However, reluctant to leave the mummy to deteriorate, the scientists refused to return it to its thawing grave. After 16 years of debate, a petition with almost 5,000 signatures and a decision by the central government in Moscow, the plan is to return the mummy to a purpose-built exhibit in the museum at Gorno-Altaisk in the Altai region3."
http://www.nature.com/ngeo/journal/v4/n1/full/ngeo1043.html

'The Ice Maiden' has designs tatooed over her body which the book has illustrated at the start of each chapter. Olga Kharitidi's book refers to humans awaking to our consciousness. I find it extraordinary that this is occuring alongside the discovery of these tombs. I am reminded of the talk I went to by the Shaman Angaangaq Angakkorsuaq from Greenland who spoke of the plight of the northern lands ice melt which is linked to the Western Man's heart being frozen. The Western Man/Ego has frozen those links to ancient Wisdom/Spirit. And we think that the more we dig the more we x-ray examin and expose the more answers we find. In fact we risk loosing further discoveries and mystery. If we dismantle an intricate clock and examin all it's pieces. Will we understand the craftmanship? Will know how to piece the clock back? Will we understand time?

Awaken to Life

“When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait." Paulo Coelho Facebook
***

“Why has our society morphed into a society of addicts? You may balk at that question, thinking, “I’m not an addict,” but if that is your response, then you need to redefine your understanding of what qualifies as an addiction. In addition to substances, addictions include attitudes and actions. Addictions are, in effect, a choice to remain unconscious in an age rapidly moving toward a new paradigm of consciousness.
So, what makes us naturally inclined toward addictions? Whether alcohol, drugs, sex, technology, Internet communication/emails, gossiping, power, cruelty, exercise, or food, the fact is we are by nature addicts. We are always seeking some way, some method, some means through which we can escape our ordinary state of consciousness, if only for thirty minutes of distraction or a temporary physical buzz brought on by a glass of wine or a candy bar no one sees us eat, or drugs that make us feel good. We can’t stop ourselves – and that is a fact.
Addiction is a stage of consciousness that every single human being progresses through"
Caroline Myss http://myss.com/news/archive/2011/081711.htm

***
“Whether we realize it or not, we are all dreaming the world into being. What we're engaging in is not the sleeping act we're so familiar with, but rather a type of dreaming we do with our eyes open. When we're unaware that we share the power to co-create reality with the universe itself, that power slips away from us, causing our dream to become a nightmare. We begin to feel we're the victims of an unknown and frightening creation that we're unable to influence, and events seem to control and trap us. That only way to end this dreadful reality is to awaken to the fact that it too is a dream - and then recognize our ability to write a better story, one that the universe will work with us to manifest" Alberto Villoldo

***
"In The Conference of the Birds, Persian poet Farid Din Attar wrote this about suffering:

If crazy dervishes behave like this
It’s not for you to take their words amiss;
If they seem drunk to you, control your scorn–
Their lives are painful, savage, and forlorn;
They must endure a lifetime’s hopelessness
And every moment brings some new distress–
Don’t meddle with their conduct, don’t reprove
Those given up to madness and to love.
You would excuse them–nothing is more sure–
If you could share the darkness they endure.

Those of us who work at spiritual and psychological growth will encounter great darkness along the way. It is no coincidence that one of the first archetypes one meets in the individuation process is the Shadow Archetype. All that we’d hidden from ourselves, all that we shove down and away, all that we project on others and hate in them–that’s what we find in the darkness. It can be overwhelming. A person in the phase of personal work can become overwhelmed and lose heart, just as a person encountering grief, sorrow, stress, and other dark experiences can lose heart without hope or encouragement.
Hope is knowing that the moon will return, and even its most feeble light will illuminate the world. "
From the Darkness ~ The Third Eve Blog ~ https://eve3.wordpress.com/
***
"Authentic relationship with darkness and unknowing usually brings about a shamanic death (the alchemical nigredo). It is not for the faint~ hearted, and it's way beyond the ego's fantasies, attachments, or ideas of grandeur. It includes experiences of 'hell', as well as 'heaven', as we attempt to find optimal relationship with the flame. Jung found that a victory for the Self always included a defeat for the ego, an experience we are sure to have is seeking alchemical renewal." Monika Wikman ~ Pregnant Darkness.

***
There would have been a further inclusion to this post from Carolyn Myss talk on Spiritual Madness if I could summarise her talk which of course I can not! She spoke of the challenging times we are living in which the Mystical path that was once for the few ~ who separated themselves from ordinary way of life ~ has now evolved to being experienced by the many who do not separate themselves from ordinary living. We are evolving fast. Carolyn Myss speaks of the necessity for the Dark Night of the Soul as we strive to integrate a strong psychological Self with the Spiritual Oneness; which is about letting go of the individualism and ego materialistic drivers. She suggests that in today's Western Society Spiritualism has even become a commodity. Where the idea of reaching our Spiritual enlightenment can be dictated by our egos. We bargain with God expecting rewards on our terms, for our efforts.

Carolyn Myss highlights how much of a challenge it is to be on the mystical path while bringing up families and working to earn a living, instead of living in an ashram or retreat. For, when we ask the Divine to speak to us we invite Chaos. We ask for those props/addictions we use to escape from our Soul and Life, to be rattled. We then find those systems of thought and habit no longer work. So we look outside and where are our answers? We must look inside; into the darkness and the unknown for 'The light at the end of the tunnel'. However, there is one myth that needs to be dismissed. There is not just the one Dark Night of the Soul that we must journey.

When I listened to her talk I reflected on how this mystical experience is not just being experienced by individuals on their own but due to living life with others; their journeys are being felt by those around them. The affect is rippling inwardly and outwardly. Those of us on spiritual paths are coming together to validate, learn remember and connect. I am experiencing how we are re-learning to share this journey with ourselves and each other. Integral to this is not just remembering a spiritual language but creating a new way of experience and co-creating. This co-creating is deeply healing. Is becoming and being more conscious and alive. Speaking from our Soul. Soul Speak.

The above quotes I have chosen as they speak to me at this point of my journey at a time where I am questioning how, why, and/or when I speak. There are times images and/or sound can fulfil experience more than words. Though we/many may speak the same language, at the same time and place in history. We can be deceived into thinking that we understand ourselves and each other fully, not just from a mind space but also body and soul. I think one of my primary senses is visual and as such I believe I speak words from a primary visual space, which might differ from another who functions more from another sense or more from a mind space.

When the Soul speaks it is in deeper language that though rarer is accessible; and if one has the courage to release control ~ can fully experience. Poetry for me can be a medium that though is of word, is magical because it is many bridges between the Mind~Body~Soul between the unconscious and conscious. It has been described as food for the Soul. It creeps/crawls/walks/runs/skips on the edge. It does not just speak or even shout ~ it Sings.

At such times when a person is in transition. Between stations unsure of the destination, country or landscape. I speak both in the physical and metaphysical. Soul Speak not only describes but also co-creates. Soul is a tear drop from Spirit. Our journey/the track we are on is not just a to b. Many of us are aware of this when we experience Déjà vu; an opening in our consciousness of an awareness that we have been here before. This is different to that of premonition which predicts the future. Déjà vu is a meeting of time and worlds at that moment.

The journey of the Soul is not a clear staged journey from Earth below to Heaven above. To be followed by a guide book as we tread well-worn steps up the mountain with clearly marked stages and stations, with refreshments and signed lovely views. The journey of the Soul asks us to fully awaken to Life. To dance with muddied feet so dead skin is peeled away to reveal tender bark. True Soul is experienced through a greening of nature, a returning to Source. The Well of Life that lies behind dark walls of the hidden garden. There is a door to this garden but the Key. The Key is our Heart.

Along the way there are guides. Some share riddles. Some will lead us into traps. Some will share gifts to aid us along our way. All are Spirit sent. Even the devils. As the saying goes "Our worst teachers are our best teachers". There is another way to walk other than the even bland world, with muted dulled senses where we inhabit the Masks of Safety. Behind which our demons cry out, even though they kept saying yes this is the right way! You will be OK.

Not fully Awakened to Life. We travel a smooth road that is never dark. So eager to have our way shown. Lightened up. Safe. We wipe out the Stars our birth place. Not fully open to mystery. A life shallow limited to surprises. We dare not swim in waters that are deep, afraid of beings we can't quite make out let alone understand. I would therefore ask people to put away their mobile tracking phone maps, when walking in the countryside. Don't do it! Take a paper map if you must. Allow your inner Divine child to discover and adventure. Trust. Drink in that wonder, joy and delight. Be intoxicated but not drunk and not addicted; but fully Awakened to Life. Laugh with gurgling wonder and hiccup.
***

Tender and Beautiful Heart

Remember you are Magical. You are Unique.

I am searching for a way to commit to living life. Being alive.
I have the luxury to be able to say this. As I am not struggling to survive.
I want to have the expansive heart to appreciate this life. As Chogyam Trungpa describes; a raw, tender and beautiful heart.
Is it possible not to question every moment as if waiting for an answer, that is either an apology or an enraged rejection. I believe it is.
Can I bare not to question the struggle. Cherish the challenges in life that carve out this twisted shape, hiding secret chambers, each one sounding a unique note.
And so in my job I use the word 'resilance' to parents of children who want more and more and more, of what they are not sure.
Tonight I watched a dramatization of the life and work of Vincent Van Gogh taken from his letters to his brother. It seems to me that he struggled his whole life to feel a deep connection. A validation that made sense of his world. Where his aliveness was not rejected. Where he belonged.
I yearn for a continuity. I yearn for community - as did Vincent. And when community is forgotten I find myself lost within a crowd. And so I treasure my own space where I cut myself off. Running away. Far away from everyone else. From myself.
As I reflect on life being change. Each moment passing. The one life line is Spirit; that pulses in our bloodlines.
When we all die from this life our voices shape the music that creates the vessel this earth. Without this continuity it seems to me that the desolute isolation that Vincent felt, can only increase as we see our disconnection externalized in the loss of our environment.
As more of our wilderness disappears more of our senses dull. And so we rage on and the fires spread deep in the earth, stripping our woodlands bare. We are lost. Paths dissapearing. The earth melting our shoes. Peeling our ashen skin back, to smiling bare shining white bone.
Our nostrils full of smoke. In our desperation to touch earth. Unable to breathe. Unable to sing. We limit our capacity to live. We limit our capacity for empathy.
If there is a Devil this is it. Hopelessness. Addiction. Seperation. Violence. This Devil a shadow puppet hiding a face full of tears. An ocean of tears, where upon floats so many ships, full of lost souls.
Dare we look upon this our Devil?
Rather than being overwhelmed is it possible to deeply feel?
Sensuality. Celebration of life. To be fully awake deeply sense the world.
As a child the breeze brushes against soft bare skin, feeling each tiny hair vibrate. Feeling the tempeture rise or fall. Catching smells diverse, rich, dark, light, delicate, raw. Beautiful. Creating space. Connecting time. Connecting memory.

"There is unlimited sound, unlimited sight, unlimited taste, unlimited feeling and so on. The realm of perception is limitless, so limitless that perception itself is primordial, unthinkable, beyond thought."

So this being fully alive is a lack of seperation. And with this I imagine comes a deep awareness of responsibilty. A deep love. Beyond conflict - 'Drala'

"One of the key points in discovering drala principle is realizing that your own wisdom as a human being is not seperate from the power of things as they are. They are both reflections of the unconditioned wisdom of the cosmic mirror. Therefore there is no fundamental seperation or duality between you and your world."

Shambala - The Sacred Path of the Warrior by Chogyam Trungpa.

"There is a language older by far and deeper than words. It is the language of bodies, of body on body, wind on snow, rain on tree, wave on stone. It is the language of dream, gesture, symbol, memory. We have forgotton this language. We do not even remember that it exists. "

A Language Older than Words ~ Derrick Jensen.

Silver Fox July 2010

Melting the Ice in the Heart of Man

Last Monday I went to St James Alternatives to hear a talk by an Inuit from the Eskimo-kalaallit people in Greenland. His name is Angaangaq Angakkorsuaq from a family of healers. At 65 he said he has only been an active Shaman for 5 years. After a long time of procrastination his sister said enough indecision it was time for him to take his grandfathers talisman and be a Shaman. A generous open hearted man full of humour, laughter and intimacy.

He shared his concern for the ice melt in Greenland and the unusual temperatures ~ apparently last year they had temperatures up to 35 degrees which made the ice boil. Where upon he went to his grandmother and asked what he could do about the ice melt. Her answer to him was that he needed to go out and help to melt the ice in the hearts of man. He asked her how he could do this. She thought for a little time and answered to go out and help melt the ice in the hearts of man and walked away. So this was what he was doing. He told us that in the 70's it was possible to have stopped the change in the world but now it was not possible. It was inevitable.

Last year I had a calling to go to the Arctic. The calling was from spirit and so shocking ~ for it had to be for me to listen and wake up ~ I awoke in the middle of the night with a cry that I didn't want to die. But in order to wake up from the living dream I needed to answer this call to be born. Which I did. And with that a growing understanding of the vision I had of Death walking beside me as my friend.

I was born to a mother whose heart broken, had been burnt ice cold by electric shock treatment. Her memories buried. As a child my experience of her was of ice. I have for many years described her as frozen. I am not sure I can honestly remember a time where she laughed from deep in her belly, a laughter that ripples out through the heart. Never satisfied she remained locked in a dysfunctional relationship. She died when I was 20 after being diagnosed with cancer when I was 10.

When I answered the call I connected with the loss of my connection of my mother with my struggle to connect with the divine feminine. I felt how those two were interconnected inside me. I also was connecting with how this story was fed down through the family blood ancestors. I am not a mother in the sense I have not had a child. And at 41 I am near the time when that will not be possible. So with that in mind I have been with how I can heal this story handed down through mother and daughter.

My time in the Arctic was more than I could have imagined. I fell in love ~ an experience beyond a focus on a single person. I had the experience of being held. I had the experience of wilderness. And along with that experience I connected with the loss of this connection.
And I then realized ~ My God ~ if I was being gifted with just a fraction of what indigenous people felt all the time?...what could they have felt at others trying to burn this connection? And with that I felt such grief at this loss. Not just theirs ~ which still goes on. But also our collective loss. For even though that loss happened generations ago for my ancestors, that loss is still there. I heard stories of how Shaman's drums were burnt in front of their eyes. Now I understood not just in my mind what this could mean.

So I returned to London with an expeirence of 'coming home' in a land far away. With the growing awareness that I was gifted this experience so that I could feel this loss. I was not meant to run away into the country. My medicine was to be with this loss in the middle of the city. When I was 20 I ran away to the city to be lost. Now I find that I no longer crave to be lost. It is about remembering. And at times that thaw can be painful.

Through the thawing of my heart I can connect with that divine feminine that is part of me ~ as I am woman. That this wilderness is in the heart of us all. And that calling can come with the smell of blossom, a butterfly alighting on your skin or the call of the fox in the night. All this in the middle of this huge metroplis. For it is not possible for thousands of us to go and live in the countryside as it is cities are spreading into vanishing green land. And with that thought I ask how do we reconnect? First we need to remember. First we need to feel the loss. Both are connected. And as I write this I wonder how Angaangaq Angakkorsuaq experiences people/us who have forgotton that connection?

At times I have felt impatient with myself. Why can't I get a move on and heal my personal wounds so that I can get out there and help with this environmental crisis? Then I catch myself. I remind myself that there is not a divide between the personal and the collective. I remind myself of the times I have been in communion with others and feel that healing resonating outwardly and inwardly. That I and others can only start from where we are. That there is a connection with the microscomic and macrocosmic. This world view in which we are isolated beings that are not dependent on others is not real.

So I clean my local area of rubbish. I can't clean the whole of London but I clean the paths where I walk. And even though I feel an urgency not only in my desire akin to a 'Call to arms', I also call for patience and compassion in these accelerated times. For I do believe that as we get nearer to 2012 more of us will feel that thaw.

http://www.icewisdom.com/icewisdom/

Jerusalem ~ Jez Butterworth

I watched Johnny take out a red handkerchief ~ a parcel in his bloody hand ~ Torn out. Pumping, beating alive held against his heart. Roaring against his own.

'But he had just taken it out from the box ~ how could that be?'

He paced the earth and shook the red cloth open. Nothing inside.

The Beating resounded in the darkness.

The end...or is it?

This was no theatre of escape. Or time for forgetting.

But a daring for intimacy.

Naked, for the wild, for the heart.

***

"I felt its urgent demand in the blood. I could hear its call. Its whistling disturbed me by day and it's howl woke me in the night. I heard the drum of the sun. Every path was a calling cadence, the flight of every bird a beckoning, the color of ice and invitation: come. The forest was a fiddler, wickedly good, eyes intense and shining with a fast dance. Every leaf in every breeze was a toe tapping out the same rhythm and every mountaintop lifting out of cloud intrigued my mind., for the wind a the peaks was the flautist, licking his lips, dangerously mesmerizing me with inaudible melodies that I strained to hear, my ears yearning for the horizon of sound. This was the calling, the vehement, irresistible demand of the feral angel - take flight. All that is wild is winged - life, mind and language - and knows the feel of air in the soaring "flight, silhouetted in the primal".Wild - Jay Griffiths

Wild Soul

"You can count on wild nature to reflect your soul because soul is you most wild and natural dimension. Nature gives birth to your soul - and that of all other animals and plants on the planet. Your ego, on the other hand, is not born directly from nature, but rather from the matrix of culture-language-family. Soul initiation is often described as a death and a second birth. Like entering a cocoon, your first ego dies and later a soul-rooted ego is birthed, not from culture this time but from the womb of nature.
Wild nature contains all the terrestrial patterns of belonging. Every niche of the world is filled with a life-form that perfectly fits there because it was born to do just that. The wilder the environment [the more complex diverse it is ] , and the more likely it contains patterns of belonging that resonate with your destiny. No matter who you are, no matter what possibilities you contain, there are forms and forces in wild nature that will reflect the nuances of your soul."

Your soul is both of you and of the world. The world cannot be full until you become fully yourself. Your soul corresponds to a niche, a distinctive place in nature, like a vibrant space of shimmering potential waiting to be discovered, claimed,...occupied. Your soul is in and of the world, like a whirlpool in a river, a wave in the ocean, or branch of flame in a fire. As the anthropologist-biologist-ecologist Gregory Bateson shows in his work, psyche is not seperate from nature, it is part of nature"

Bill Plotkin, Chap Groundwork from Soulcraft.

This Wild Love

As I travelled back into London I was bringing the dislocated parts of myself together. Where would I find my Secret Garden in this city?

I arrive to the grand Arch and gateway of Paddington train Station. Made of metal, stone, wood. Fuelled with water and fire filled with sweat, steam and burning coal.

I remember my lost garden where upon plunging my hands into the black earth I was stung by a sleeping bumble bee. The devil had stolen my hands and I longed to feel the earth in my hands. Smell the soil under my nails seeking the crevasses, lines, creases, cracks and sores.

I smile to myself as I wish to find another platform 9 and 3/4. Perhaps if I squeeze myself small. Bound tight forgetting my full woman's body with her feet size 8 and her hands full and hairy [if seen on certain nights if lucky!] I say to myself ~ No that won't work. Never did work. Trying to believe those false words that pushed my skin and bones into a shape convenient. Manageable and tamed. Hair neatly shaved, cut, bleached and trimmed. A wild mad woman me...nah...that wasn't me....

I walk the concrete and stone ground unaware of whose bones lie underneath my feet. The skulls buried that once held life flowing with moment after moment after.

I remember the caresses of my lost love. As his fingers traced my contours that tracked pathways inside this heavy head.

The landscape of London constantly changing. Buildings going replaced with new. But the roads, streets, paths, lanes remain the same. They follow the same map. They keep the same names.

I feel lost. Landmarks holding memories going. A city of ghosts.

Yesterday I walked paths with a new friend - paths thick from shared laughter, tears, arguments, hello's and goodbyes, screams of joy and sorrow, songs sung with gusto from bellies full and strained from throats torn with liquid fire.

We walk over the bridge from the north to south. Deep in conversation. My words building hands lost to the devil.
My words grow to a new rhythm. My words build life. Creeping, running, stamping, tip toeing, jumping, leaping, crawling over the eyes, ears, mouth of London.

As I write this a group of young men/boys and women/girls are screaming, shouting and running, some with bikes, some with hoods up have chosen to bang my dustbin. It is an old style metal dustbin bright shiny and new and makes a wonderful loud sound. Crashing into the night. They have sharpened the sleepy dark night and man lit street. They reclaim this street as their own. The darkness creeping closer.

In their screams I hear a desire and longing to share the excitement of being alive. Bare and naked. No wonder ~ I think ~ they sometimes hide their faces. Theirs is a sound of hope. Singing with tongues that don't lie. The river runs loud in their veins. Some may call this ugly but I call this beauty. This wild love. These are forked tongues that cannot lie.

Now the street is empty and quiet. I understand the desire to walk bare foot in the city.

Spell of the Sensuous

"There was a time when humans spoke with the voice of the Earth. Our ancestors’ senses were alert to messages coming to them from the wild world of nature. They were immersed in meanings—meanings that resonated in their own flesh" ~
review of The Spell of the Senuous' ~ David Abram ~ by Christian de Quincey ref: http://www.deepspirit.com/sys-tmpl/thespellofthesensuous/

Opening Heart

I return to my Blogg after a dream I had the night before last where I had travelled back in time to the time of the Incas. The dream was red with blood as I was given a beating heart to hold in my hand. As I held the heart a voice proclaimed "When your heart it open it cannot be broken".
This brings me to the book I have been reading ~ Shambhala: the Sacred Path of the Warrior ~ in which Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche speaks about the Warrior becoming more open, breaking out of the cocoon where we hide/ we wrap around ourselves for protection from the difficulties of daily life. He speaks of Heart of Sadness. This deeply felt sadness arises from the realization that the world is not an easy place in which to have an open and loving heart, that there is much that is incompassionate and cruel here. The alternative to this sadness is shutting down and remaining ignorant of reality. Since courage is required to avoid this shutting down, maintaining the Heart of Sadness is the act of a warrior.
I have been focusing my attention recently on my 'cocoon' and how I have excluded experiences, feelings, people ~ in fact I have excluded myself.
The following night I dreamt of again being in the land of Incas ~ this time in the present day on the borders of the wilderness. I had booked into a hotel room. It was night and I had the desire to go out into the wilderness. As I looked out of my bedroom window a pack of Wild Cats were waiting for me ~ their prey! My desire to go outside was not because I wanted to die but I wanted to experience Wilderness in the full.
To include means embracing all that is and all that is ~ is God/dess. Looking beyond the concept of Good or Bad.
Wilderness is not good or bad.
And to include Wilderness ~ that would shatter my ego.
That is what I crave and that is what I fear.
Since returning from my break to my friends wonderful small holding in Wales. I have intentionally prayed to the God/dess for me to remember my heart connection to the Wilderness.
My ego sometimes lets go of it's grip and my heart is allowed to beat it's drum. I see a shimmer of the God/dess ~ Wilderness. It is beyond what I could have imagined.
Including in letting go of my grip is acknowledging that I am totally responsible for my experience. Sometimes I can get it ~ mostly I find myself rebelling and slipping back into running the stories my ego needs ~ at best putting the responsibility of my experience outside of myself on others and at worst blaming others for my experiences.
Including leads to a vast wilderness. Not a sterile landscape.
And I return to the question how I can touch wilderness while living in a city?
Is the Divine ~ God/dess craving to know his/herself through our creation?
Through my dreaming can I touch God/dess?
Can I dare to awaken when I am not dreaming?
Blessed Be

'Wild Earth'

"I felt its urgent demand in the blood. I could hear its call. Its whistling disturbed me by day and it's howl woke me in the night. I heard the drum of the sun. Every path was a calling cadence, the flight of every bird a beckoning, the color of ice and invitation: come. The forest was a fiddler, wickedly good, eyes intense and shining with a fast dance. Every leaf in every breeze was a toe tapping out the same rhythm and every mountaintop lifting out of cloud intrigued my mind., for the wind a the peaks was the flautist, licking his lips, dangerously mesmerizing me with inaudible melodies that I strained to hear, my ears yearning for the horizon of sound. This was the calling, the vehement, irresistible demand of the feral angel - take flight. All that is wild is winged - life, mind and language - and knows the feel of air in the soaring "flight, silhouetted in the primal".

Wild - Jay Griffiths