Tarot, my Candle in the Dark

 

I feel like the journey to Tarot started long before I even considered buying a deck. In 2007 really, sitting in that apartment, not long married. I remember discussing with someone the ins and outs of the faith I was raised in and how it didn't feel like it fit anymore. I felt a bit of a charge in saying that, a half formed fear that I would lose my ticket to heaven, even though I didn't believe in heaven any longer.

And from there, the trajectory of happenings continued to unravel that well constructed paradigm that my parents had so carefully built. Maybe it was the ingress of Pluto into Capricorn, this slow demolition of the framework that had held me for so long. I continued to enjoy and dread dismantling those beliefs, and felt this magnetic draw even when I was scared of researching beliefs outside of what I had known.

I think I heard somewhere that it takes something tragic, a turning point in which the old beliefs can do nothing to stay held, and that's what happened in the loss of my flute, in my desperate pleas just a few years prior that god would heal my body and allow me to do the one thing, the only thing that had ever given me solace and hope. My music could take me away, blunt the edges of a harsh world. And in those moments, my music grew hard and silent and I felt the reverberations of all the notes I had practiced and performed over the years, mocking me, sing-songy, twisting into aberrations of what harmony had come before. 

Now, in the haunting echo of those moments, I perused other faiths, other beliefs. I remember talking long hours to my brother as we deconstructed those childhood paradigms and the journey was begun. I explored several different ideas, but the pagan path continually seemed the most haunting, the one that called my heart the strongest. 

I think the culmination of this and the shattering of all that was left, the foundation demolished in one fell swoop, was the birth of my son. His advent into the world was dramatic and unearthing in a way nothing else had been, up to that point. I heard the doctor say in a booming voice as I lay in OR, a surprise C-section already beginning this tumultuous journey, "Happy Birthday, Mr. Blake". And within moments, a well meaning nurse told me my son seemed to have markers for trisomy 21. I had no idea what that meant, but something in her tone told me something was wrong, amiss.

My heart rate sped up, my own soul acknowledging the change in the room, the frantic nurses and something about their interaction with my newly arrived baby.

Those moments raced away in a flurry of pumping and bottle feedings and endless sleepless nights, breasts throbbing, my world deconstructing into a dark and many textured place where I could only feel my way through, unable to see, unable to perceive in typical ways. I seemed to spend more time awake in the dark than in the light and my journey of darkness ensued powerfully and unavoidably.

In the spring of 2014, I was introduced to a woman who would upend my world, her own interest in special needs and pagan things blending into something addictive and beguiling. I spent hours writing her, talking to her, texting her. Our relationship was too close, too something of darkness and trauma bonding. It was after a lengthy summer, and a short fall, that I came to the greatest depression I had known yet. It was so dark and I felt fear in trying to take another step. You know, people always say, take it one step at a time, or just live moment to moment in those times. And that's supposedly what I did, but I remember sobbing that I couldn't, that the idea was terrifying.

We moved in the spring of 2015, and I thought things might be better, leaving a neighborhood where I felt alone, the sun too bright, the trees dying and tornadoes ripping through at certain intervals. We moved to a place of more peace, dappled sunlight reaching through tall trees, and in a way, the mending had begun, but I was still weak, still hanging on, even as the waves of life and grief drained my heart and soul. 

However, that year for my birthday, I took a brave plunge, ordering on the very day of my birthday, a tarot deck. I felt this little shock of fear course through me, wondering if I was risking all the demon possession threatened me in my youth for touching such a thing. But the magnetic pull of that deck was more than my fear, the curiosity an undertow I couldn't stop.  But when the deck arrived, I shoved it deep in a drawer, confused by the symbols, lost in the tiny meanings of a little white book. What the hell could it all mean? I was half mad at myself for giving in to that "petty" urge.

The months went along, September, October, and the darkness grew. I remember sobbing, things with my mother having reached a desperate climax, her own control over me slipping and my need to distance from all she represented from my childhood. I cut things off with her, and my darkness grew, such poignant inky darkness. I was afraid I would not go on, not be able to rescue myself from this place. I hated myself. I hated her. I hated life. I loved my son but his need for me was greater than my ability to give. I felt desperate in his need, desperate in my own inability and pain.

It was in those dark moments, that my brother reached out to tell me about a client he had who was giving tarot readings and teaching tarot too. I remembered that deck shoved deep in my drawers and felt the call yet again to try to understand these strange symbols, to know why I loved the feel of that deck in my hands, an attraction that seemed to supersede my fears. I reached out to this tarot reader and we decided to start a mentorship in January. 

I will never forget New Years of that year, that fateful and awful January 1st. I sat sobbing, asking my partner how I could go on and his blank and emotionless look - which I am sure was him blocking his desperation, unsure how to help this wife of his who had become more than he had ever agreed to handle.  That day, I read an article about a mother who had killed herself in front of her children, her desperation and pain becoming their own in that fateful moment. Something shook me, something that seemed to say "get a grip!!" and it worked! Something clicked for me, that I couldn't do this to my son! I couldn't leave him alone and bereft in this world. He needed my advocacy and my love too much for that.

But the true light came in the form of studying the tarot, each week creating spreads, drawing cards, journaling, feeling this soul connection in a way I never had before. I worked with the cards, sensing this beacon of light, seeing patterns and understandings that had been closed off to me before. I journaled about my eating disorder. I journaled about my childhood. I journaled about my growing love and connection of my own self. The cards were the medium through which I could bring things to the surface in safe and hopeful ways. I felt held in the container of each image, of each meaning. I began to meet others online who shared that love of the cards and my connections grew not only inside of myself, but to the outside world.

Hope, faith, love...these qualities began to feel nourished within me again, tarot the tool, tarot the jewel, the shining candle that led me onward and up, out of those murky depths, out of those desperate places. I had something to live for again. Something to rise out of bed for and excite me as I wondered what cards I might turn over and what hope I might find as I connected to deep parts of myself. Connection. That's what I felt in the cards most strongly. I remember my teacher's words that have stayed with me all of these years since. "Tarot helps you find yourself" and it had. Truly it had.

To this day, I find I can share that same connection with others in reading for them, in reflecting their own beautiful selves back to them through the images in the cards. I find this love that pours through them, this medium that allows me to speak deeply in places where otherwise there would be no words. The images craft feelings and call up perceptions. The symbols illuminate and inform the journeys of myself and others. I continue to feel that joy and that spark when I pick up a deck and read once again, for myself or others. And I find myself deeply desiring to do this, to read again and connect and help and bring hope through the cards. 

My life is busy with my little guy with special needs, but he seems to understand my need to be with my cards and I find a moment or two every day to work with them, to be present with their precious gifts. He enjoys holding them, mouthing "cards" in his own way, his words shaped by Down Syndrome and this breathy sweet quality. 

My hope is to continue to read, to grow, to shift and change and connect more and more deeply with myself and others through this vehicle. Sometimes I still feel the flicker of my old beliefs, this fear that I have gone down an occult path with no return, but then I think of the joy and the hope it has all brought me and I gladly continue on, knowing, this is my path. This is where I am meant to follow; this is my hope and constancy.  I do believe Tarot saved my life. Tarot was and is my candle in the dark.

(Picture - Fool Card from the Vagabond Tarot by BohoIndieWild)

The Tower

Few cards inspire the reaction that the Tower might. I have thought of journeying with this card for almost two years now, something in me resisting at first, drawn magnetically at second, and eventually, feeling a NEED to journey with it, to shake up the foundations I have built everything on, the trust I have in objects that don't deserve that sort of faith. So I sit this morning, in the energy of this card that has come forward often for me in this month. Is it a wish? Is it a knowing? Is something drawing me towards this precarious precipice?

I wake to find myself slowly walking a path that seems rather innocuous. There are dark meadows, grass yellowing in the autumn air, the sharp scent of change as leaves begin to decay. I look for the trees that have shed their leaves and find few with stark bare branches. There's a death energy here, something of moldering and rot. 

To my right is a house, but a very strange house, built of many rooms, many levels and nothing at all stable. It's as if when someone started building it, they kept tacking on ideas, adding on stories. The additions are almost arbitrary and seem ready to topple. I make note of this cartoon type house, knowing in my mundane life it would never stand. But here in my dreams, it somehow finds purchase in this desolate, still place. 

Ahead of me rests a door, barring my path. I will have to pass through this portal to continue my journey. I bid farewell to the haphazard house.in this strange place, lit in otherworldly tones 

With a backwards glance, I step firmly through the doorway and find myself in a place that seems murky and pathless. I startle to realize I have no idea which way to go. Then to my right, some sort of detached plane, like a balance beam seems to appear. But as I walk on it, my body tilts heavily to the left side. I find it extremely difficult to keep my balance and my muscles grow fatigued and tired trying to hold this sideways posture. I feel my tolerance for this leaning ending when suddenly the plane shifts again and I am walking, leaning heavily to the right. At first I am relieved as this feels better than my entire body listing to the left. But surely, the fatigue sets in with this as well and I find myself frustrated and exhausted.  I want to walk straight and upright but that seems lost to me.

I suddenly realize how dark things have grown and that I have come to the end of this strange projection path I have walked upon.  I am suspended above a great chasm and startle as lightening begins to crash around me, the sound deafening my ears, a charge filling my body with painful prickles. Suddenly, what little I had to stand on is yanked out from under me. I fall in a dreadful hurtle, fast and faster, my being rising up into my throat, bile filling my mouth. I am terrified as this freefall seems to leave plenty of space to imagine what will happen when my body crash lands. Lightening continues to snap and crackle powerfully around me, filing my body with electric tremors and pain.

Down and down I fall wondering what will be my end. The sound is deafening, the roar of so much thunder, that I can't separate any one sound. I succumb, surrendering to the free fall. 

And then I realize, it is over. I never felt the impact of landing, but here I am, in a dark and rain drenched space, unable to see much but this pervasive, dim grayness. I feel around and realize I sit in a sea of mud, thick and sticky. I feel the rain drenching every part of me, and find myself sobbing, adding to the wash of water. Something in these sobs tears at the deepest part of me, pulling, yanking, heaving. Every part of me, inside and out seems to be washed by this torrential rain. I gasp, feeling myself wanting to breath through my sobbing but the air is so heavy with moisture that I panic. I need air. I gasp and gasp again, and at last, I feel something ease a bit.

There is a deep ache in me. An emotional pain that wrenches the very depths of me. I feel so weak and tired.

Slowly, I stand. The rain has lessened. I still can't see much, but there is more of a silvery feeling in this place, the sky a bit brighter as the rainfall continues. I feel every joint of my body hurting, aching, every bone seemingly out of alignment.  But the ground is firmer now, less muddy and I move forward on careful steps.

There's some sort of color ahead, the silver grayness of falling rain easing and I step towards that promising light. My hands are outstretched and I startle to find I am naked now, my clothes all but guttered away in that dreadful fall and ensuing storm. Still, I reach. I must find more air to breath, more light to fill my senses. Stepping, so slowly, each footfall a sacrifice when a part of me would rather lay down and drown, give up, sink into the blackness.

Suddenly I am outside of that dark bubble and I look back on an orb of destruction and lightening flashes. I seem to be upon a cliff, on the other side now, watching vague shadows in this sphere of black rain punctuated by terrifying lightening. There is a defined black bubble that I have passed through. I step back involuntarily, terrified by the power I feel in that orb. I am safe now. I am in this golden place. I am beyond the terror of that dark night. I am forever changed by my experience of the Tower. I didn't realize before, but it is a passage, a portal, a dark chamber that strips all I ever knew before, away from what I am. 

(Card pictured - The Tower from the Dark Mansion Tarot)

The Sun

I step into this twilight space, with nothing here but my own naked being and a smooth dark floor beneath my feet. I wonder if it is a floor, or if I am floating on the wings of my breath. I breath in so slowly, and hold it, and then out it whooshes and then breathing and holding again before beginning the cycle anew. I find myself almost at ease in this place, a curiosity filling me, wanting explore what will come. And slowly, out of the dim light, a door appears, growing as it were, with ivy and fresh glossy leaves, plump vines twining and folding over the door so completely as for me to question if it were a door at all, or rather a wall of summer green. Still, I feel drawn to place my hand where a knob might be, and at my gentle touch, the door slowly swings open.


I am at once bathed in the kindest warm light, so very bright and golden that I am blinded, but I don't mind. I feel held in the intense light, my being soaking in the warmth of it all, my eyes closed against the intensity. I am enfolded completely, even behind and under my being in this wondrous light. I wonder if this might be what I would feel to pass over, to be one with the light so completely. I feel myself enveloped and conscious of nothing else but the warmth and the light upon my bare skin, soaking into the core of me. Then I feel a subtle shift, the light becoming more of a stream of light, rather than a wash. I find my eyes slowly open to take in this change. I am still in the light, but now the light is defined and I stand just on the edge of it.


The light begins to move, as if creating a path in front of me. I step, I follow. I must stay within that orb of delicious warmth. But it seems the light moves faster than I can, and I find myself jogging and then running to stay within the orb and all around me this profound inky darkness. I finally stand defeated, the light just ahead of me, and me in the cold and dark without it. A shiver runs through my body, and my head drops in defeat as I realize I cannot stay within the light. I fold my arms across my chest, clutching myself in this palpable darkness.


Then, I feel a change come over me, as if I have become ephemeral and all that I was falls from me. I notice my ghostly shape by looking at my hand for a brief moment. I can see through it to the light. My entire being has become this outline as it were, and I am floating as a specter might. I look to my left and see a womxn, her unbound hair and dress almost one as she sways and moves away from me. Did she come from me? I glance to my right and see this darkened figure, almost that of a demon, his clawed hands and his angular face intent on something ahead. I feel that he too, has come from what was once me. Both of these figures walk away from me in a grand circle. They grow farther and farther apart. I feel something in me being torn asunder and a seizing in my heart although I thought only find this empty, ghostly space within me. I am an apparition, not quite present but still, so aware and feeling within this space.


Still these two figures walk, and I feel some relief as their paths seem to begin to curve back towards each other. They walk some magic circle, some course that seems mapped by the faded, once present light. I can barely make out their shapes, and still there is movement. They are walking towards each other now and I feel this anticipation within me, this need, no desperation, that they might find each other in the dark! The white skirts of the womxn glow faintly against the darkness, and the shape of the demon is barely discernable. Then the moment they come together and some sort of tiny light ignites in the air behind them.


I startle to realize there are many more figures now, hundreds of womxn clothed in creamy white, and hundreds of darkened grotesque demons and they all walk away from me, as if pouring from me, this great circle filled almost like an ant hole, full of commotion and activity in this dark. I strain to see, at once repulsed and yet this deep desire filling in me that they might all connect in passionate embrace. I feel the connection of demon to feminine in a visceral way, in a way that creates a yearning that each of these figures will find their shadow bright match. And slowly as they round the circle and sphere around me, the sky behind all of this begins to light, as if one pixel at a time, over and over and more pixels light up until the light begins to shine again, warmer, brighter, brighter and warmer.


I feel the warmth reach me again, slowly, a path created over this orb of which I seem to be an oversoul. I feel something in me aching, burning that each figure will find their match and create more light. I eagerly anticipate each passionate embrace. Something fills me, almost this sexual energy, this tingling through my entire lower being. And as they embrace, they seem to become fewer, not necessarily disappearing but perhaps growing larger, the energy of all these tiny figures becoming one couple, one woman with golden glowing hair and dress, and one demon, with rough swarthy skin, and talons for hands. They embrace passionately, the electricity of their connection in the air in front of me and I feel once again, the sun bathe me in her light, the warmth of it all growing and growing until I am again held in delicious warmth and place. I feel it pervade my every cell and my every vein and begin to flow within me, this blood of light and river of feeling. The intensity becomes so profound that I finally lose consciousness and give up to this heady light. I am one with the light. I am no longer divided but have fused with all that was and is.


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this meditation feels like all the disparate parts of myself and that I have come from a place of unity, but upon this earthly plane and reality, I am so many tiny pieces that have no place within me, places I hide, places I deem not enough or good enough, and they wander in the dark. I ache for the light, but it eludes me and still, as I connect tiny pieces back to myself, drawing one by one in this painful dance of first separation, and the uniting; then I find pieces of light, tiny bright spots in my heart and soul that become brighter and perhaps grow incrementally until there is a solid sun, a light of truth within me. This process feels to me to take many lifetimes perhaps, but the dance of integration, of slowly finding the pieces of me that are scattered in the dark is one in which I gradually gain the light.

I think of each discovery of what has been truly me over the past 13 years, and how each discovery has brought me more and more fulfillment or joy or something of understanding. There's so much more. But each tiny piece has been cause for joy. 

(Sun card from Ian Daniels, Tarot of the Vampyres)

The Hanged Man

I stand in a room, devoid of color, with light coming from somewhere almost above me, as if it were a grand black stage and I the only actor upon it. My thin skirts swirl around my pale legs and I realize there is a door in front of me, ornate and with seemingly nothing behind it or beside it. I know I must open that door.


I walk to the door, and open it to see beyond, a pale green twi-lit world filled with mists and the smell of death and rotting beyond it. Still I am enchanted and feel called to step through. I gingerly step over the threshold and find myself ensconced in this place. The door seems to disappear and fade into the ghostly mists beyond me and I feel a moment of panic as I realize the way back has been taken from me.


slowly, I pick my way down a hill, the mists growing thicker, this pervasive greenish and magical fog covering everything, vining plants and tall moss covering the trees. Everything is so still here and yet such a feeling of death and deep bogs that I might not spot until I am upon them. I notice a barely discernable path and my feet follow it willingly, something of predictability in this world where there is none. I find the longish moss brushing my head from the towering trees above, and I wonder at spiders and other creatures of night in this dim barely lit place.


I slip a bit and reach out my hand instinctively to break my fall and find a gravestone, the old stone crumbling a bit under my hand. I wipe the wet dust of it on my skirt and realize there are more stones, each standing slightly askew, tilted, so many broken and needing repair. I can't make out the words on them, faded and molded in this constant damp twilight. Still the path winds on, barely there, but an energy that encourages me to follow.


And now a cross, in better shape than most of the tomb stones here, appears to my right and I gaze at it, feeling it is pointing to something. And surely to my left, I notice a grotesque figure appearing out of the mists and faint light. A twisted tree but one that is uprooted and up-ended, its roots far above my head and a beam nailed in the center, across his trunk, and on it hangs this gruesome creature, his head hung upside down on this makeshift cross. Blood pours from his mouth and over his forehead into a basin below and I find myself caught, listening absently to the sound of the fountain created by that flow. He seems to have a crackling energy around him and I am drawn closer, almost without stepping that way. Vines grow around him as if he has been here for some time, or there is a magick here that has trapped him when he least expected it.


Now I stand before him and feel he is speaking although I cannot hear his words with the rush of blood from his mouth. Still something in me hears. There are words even if they are not spoken and then I realize I am hanging as he is, the blood rushing from my feet to my head, a light airy quality pervading my legs and the weight seeming to crush my skull. I feel the pins and needles behind my eyes and my own awareness shifts. I can see as if I were wearing some sort of special vision, the tiny creatures, the tiny things in this bog and forest.


I am missing the details, I am plodding along. My sacrifice is more of what is expected by others than what I intend. I am executing the bigger strokes to fulfill all these things, but missing the tiny things. What tiny moments or details am I missing? Sacrifice is so hard. I ask the hanging man what follows this moment and in a pragmatic way, with nothing added, he simply says, "Death". and I realize that as the blood flows away, as his life force drains, so does mine. Death must come after this. Change must follow. I cannot continue as it is. I tremble to realize it. The feeling of the death card is with me so sure in this brief moment.


And then I am standing once again, caught in his fading image. He sees what I cannot now. And slowly I retrace my steps along the path now grown over more with vines, and I find the way back is more difficult. And yet the door appears out of the green mists. I find no surprise in myself as I open it and step through. In the pale light of that dark stage, I look to see how much my dress has disintegrated from being in that place, a putrefaction of the fabric, threadbare and covered in black mold. I start to notice these black splotches on my skin - I too have begun to die as he has. Change is imminent. I feel left with the question of whether I will create this change? Or be consumed by it?

9 of Swords

I wake from a troubled sleep, thoughts swirling like gremlins, shadows and shadowy beings dancing around my bed. I grab my head and realize sweat drenches me, hot and uncomfortable, sticky and slick. I am still caught in my nightmares, caught in this web of something that seems larger than my own being. I feel the fear deep in my gut reaching and I am powerless to stop it's spreading thru every limb and every fiber of my being. 

I feel up and out of this bedroom place, realizing the sky is gray and clouds are roiling across an angry sky above my head. I am sitting no longer and feel my feet under me, unstable, reading to fall. I stand very still and listen. Ravens fly above me.  I cannot see them yet, but I hear their raucous cries against a too dark sky. I slowly lower my hands, leaving my ears exposed to hear the cries even more loudly. And slowly, I open my eyes. Up and up I gaze, into a vortex of swirling crows. They are dark and moving against an even darker sky and yet in the center of their swirling, glows light. Around and round they fly and I follow their motions feeling my own self in their movement. I am no longer still but spinning in this place. Round and round and my throat catches and my stomach lurches within me. I cannot stop this motion.

A raspy whisper in my ear and faint sounds that seem to say, look up and look to your redemption. Thru the vortex, thru the swirling cycle of birds, thru the sounds that threaten to drown my own thoughts, I see a portal, a round warm and glowing portal of brightest golden light. I reach my arms towards that space. The birds have created it or found it. I am unsure which. I feel my feet once more begin to lose their tenuous hold on this earth and I glance down to realize I am high above all of the world, the world etched in faint lines and shapes, so far below as to appear as a map would. My heart clutches in fear as I realize I float above it all, my feet barely touching on the most sheer and pointed pinnacle. I will fall because there is no ground below my feet and this point seems to be rapidly dissipating. 

"FLY" rasps the crow in my ear. I feel I wish to argue, but then I realize I can only fly or fall. And so I propel myself with all of my strength and with every fiber of my being into that glowing portal of light. Follow the light. Follow the light. I fly into that glowing portal between the crows, their very wing beating lifting me forward and up. And the sound fills my ears like a deafening roar. All will change in these moments. Nothing will be as it was.

STRENGTH

I stand at the edge of a meadow, the birds trilling in rounds, the valley before me, cool and green and dotted with bursts of colors and petals. I let my eyes close and breathe deeply of this place. Slowly, once more, I open my eyes to absorb the brilliance, the sun shining deeply and brightly, nourishing, warming, caressing. I am held now in this warmth.

I become aware of an angel to my left. She walks slowly, covered in opalescent robes that catch and shimmer in the brightness of this day. She seems unaware of me as her gaze is distant and soft. I feel caught in her movements, soft and tranquil and sure. She is glowing as if from within and she reaches out to catch a flower here and there, picking them to weave into an intricate braid of wildflowers for her head. I am enchanted. 

Suddenly to my right, I am gripped by the image, gradually taking over half of this vision. The contrast is stunning, the colors much more subtle, the pallet much more simple. There is power in that simplicity, gray and shadows of light and dark. And from that approaches a dynamic shade of gold taking the form of a lion.. He is sure of each step, confident but also darker, and the sky begins to split down the middle so that to my left is this golden green meadow, and to my right, a darkness and hardness, rocks that stretch and etch, skies that tumble and roil in the dark gray clouds. I cannot hear the padding of the lion across this hard stretch of blackened rock, but I feel each footfall in my heart, this trembling, as if he will crush me with the weight that he is. Truly he is magnificent and strong, his jaws flexing now as he confidently moves one paw and then another, his golden mane catching and cascading in the movements and the minimal light. He is so gold against that gray unyielding rock.

I look to the center now, these two images, one on either side seeming like a triangle, of which I am the apex. I know both of these beings will reach me. With one I feel peace and with the other, fear for my very life. I scrunch my eyes closed, willing this to be a dream but still, when I slowly open them again, the very earth is split in front of me and on either side there is a dream of completely opposite reflection. I am the apex they both are stepping towards. I am the trajectory of both of these creatures. I am struck that my left eye sees the meadow and shimmering angel, and my right eye takes in the gray boulder field, darkened skies and golden lion. 

And then they are beside me, and the lion begins to rumble deep from within, a growl with less sound than a profound quaking of the earth on which I stand.  Still a crystalline singing catches at my ears, high above this bass and resonant sound.  My feet tremble to hold myself on this dual ground. The angel has not moved, nor has her mouth formed any sort of words, but still, this singing pours from her, and she is glowing as if with a silken mist. I feel her become my left side and I feel the lion become my right. This duality is not outside of me, but rather within me, the voices of such different timbres stretching and pulling and yanking at my skin fibers and my cells until I feel threatened to become undone.

I surrender now. I am one with the singing of the angel and the reverberating thunder of the lion and in that moment, I transcend to become neither and both. I shake with all the forces within me until my being becomes completely still. And the world before me has shifted, a place in which my head is present with stars and dark velvet sky and yet my feet stand among fields of fiercest green and dancing flowers. I find myself inside a painting awash with colors and blending's of night and day and green and gray. Swirls of yellow and blue and ash and white, silver and gold and cold and night. I am caught in the warmth and still part of me is chilled. I am all and I am nothing. 

And out of my throat pours the voices of many in unison. I sing for the stars and I rumble for the earth. I am a choir and yet I am one voice. I am filled and completely empty in one moment. I have not found strength, but rather I have become it. I am the lion and the angel merged. 

Yule Magic

Twilight deepens across this quiet landscape. Snow has fallen, blanketing everything in soft shapes and rounded poses. I turn, slowly, gently so as not to mar this perfect place. So silent, so still and I realize now that I am dressed in thin veils and snow colored garments. They glow and catch in this tender twilight, in shades of purple, pink and delicate orange. I have grown back into a child's form and find a holly wreath upon my head and tiny sparkling lights woven into my hair.


A unicorn comes towards me now, this most magical of creatures. And I reach for her as she bows her head slowly. She is of the creamiest white and a gold horn between her ears. She lowers her head towards me and I touch the tip of her horn and am transported, to find myself riding upon her smooth, warm back. She moves without a sound; she moves without affecting the snow. I watch the twilight deepen and first stars begin to twinkle in the deep purple sky.


The world takes on this magical hue, deep lavender snow, soft shapes and darkened trees. I feel as if I am floating, riding like this on a most magical creature. The suns rays have faded almost entirely, and in the Eastern sky, the moon rises, a crescent, fair of form and curve. Her faint silver light seems to enchant this vision further and I find myself filled with wonder and delight.


And now we come upon a splendid scene: a circle of trees, merrily decorated with twinkling tiny lights, and in the center of this grove, a long white table filled with colorful food and intricate dishes and festooned with evergreen garlands and bright red bows. Graceful and dancing candle flames are placed along the entire length. At the edges of the grove, two Yule logs burn brightly, their flames crackling and filling the circle with warmth and light.


I slide off of the unicorn as she reaches back to nuzzle my arm. Her breath is warm in this cold air. I realize that even though I am dressed in the lightest of garments, I don't feel cold. The air is crisp and full of the scent of pine and bayberry. I breath deeply and step with mystery into this enchanted place. Sparkling lights and glowing candles greet my gaze and I smile softly.


The food is delicate but rich. Tiny tarts and chocolate cakes, dishes made from fruits and sauces all adorn the spread. I wonder at the tiny size of all I see, but still the intricacy and charm. I feel beguiled with a place so magical and extraordinary in the middle of this snowy place.


My eyes catch at movement to my right and my eyes are drawn slightly below my own height. A gnome moves with surprising gait for someone more portly and dressed so heavily. He nods to me and continues round the table to find a place and there he sits. He has begun a procession of bewitching woodland creatures: fairies and nymphs, dryads and tiny forest creatures file in to find their place at this magical feast. Each regards me with a twinkle in their eye as if they have some great secret. And I watch, feeling shy and yet honored to be graced this vision.


The gnome gestures for me to sit at the table, and I take a place, albeit somewhat self consciously. But then each creature in turn rises to give me a small present. I am touched by their kindness and willingness to include me in this festive gathering. One gives me a blade of the greenest grass, alive still in this winter scape. Another still gives me a pinecone and still others, tiny morsels of the finest sweets. Then there are other gifts, that seem more mystical and magical by turn: a clock that I can bend and fold over on itself, a horn when placed to the ear produces the most magical tinkling melodies, melodies that make me giggle; I am given a sparkling glass that shows the future and a cut crystal meant to bring clever dreams. And the final present thrills me most of all, a tiny silver made bell, crafted and hammered to shine and glimmer and when rung, the most pure and enchanting of sounds peels forth, a sound that is more felt than heard. I feel transported, these lovely things placed around me and before me.


I murmur a soft whisper of gratitude and the feasting commences. Although the dishes are tiny, I find myself filled and satisfied. The sweets are like none I have ever tasted before, their texture and flavor filling me with heady senses and softened motions. I am caught, spellbound in this magical place.


And then it is time for me to leave this beautiful gathering. I nod to the small creatures, the squirrels with their tufted chins, and the fairies with their colorful garbs and the rabbits with wise eyes and birds with their timorous chirping. I take tiny hands and paws and claws in mine. My hand tingles to feel these intricate connections. Each one nods or blesses me by turn and slowly I find that vision fading into the night. The stars sparkle like a thousand jewels set in velvet above my head and there my unicorn finds me, warmed by the gentle kindness of these blessed creatures.


The longest night of the year is begun and I climb slowly upon her back, sleepy and satisfied, content to let my dreams carry me to first light.

Princess of Swords

There, cloaked in darkness, I find myself silent and still. Slowly, a light breaks and seems to shine from behind me, illuminating a large and ornate wooden door just in front of me. There is nothing else in this dim room. I study the door. Dark, heavy wood and intricate paneling seem to draw me towards it. I take one step and then another and reach for a large antique brass handle in the middle of this grand door. Slowly I push down to hear it click and struggle forward on old and rusted hinges. A misty cold air assails me and I am drawn through without stepping at all.


I find myself in a misty place, obscured by millions of tiny droplets of water. I reach my hands in front of me wondering how far I can see and my eyes water to feel the mists so close and me unable to see farther than my fingertips. I realize I am finely dressed in an ancient, green brocade gown that weighs me unnecessarily. I cannot shake the feeling of being almost unable to move or even breath. Multiple, heavy skirts pull at my body and I find myself wishing to sink to the ground below to relieve this weight. I feel trapped and something strikes at my heart, a deep and irrational fear and I glance about myself to realize I can see nothing beyond myself. If a predator is watching, I am unable to know.


I feel this deep seated fear pawing at my deepest core. I struggle against this fear of my surroundings and try to walk away from this dread I sense. The air is heavy, moist and dank. It is fetid and thick and I draw each breath with labored effort. A bird begins a call somewhere in front of me, steady and calling. The sound draws me towards this bird but I listen with fear building in me and wondering what she knows that I cannot. Then she quiets and I am again left in this unearthly, muffled stillness. Slowly I take a step forward and realize I am walking on thick mud that sponges a bit with each step. I reach down, pulling on the hem of the heavy gown to look at my feet. There, I notice thick mud oozing about my toes. For some reason this sensation makes me feel a bit better. I notice that I am connected in some way to the earth and I am a little less fearful.


Something shifts around me. It seems the mist has lifted a bit from my shoulders and eyes and I peer to my left to notice an elaborate stone altar. Gray rocks and intricate details strike me. It is artfully made and constructed. This pagan altar has been filled with all manners of strange and gruesome things. I find a bloody wing, a black and twisted ribbon, an old bone still with wilted skin, and another, a garish mask contorted in a last breath. I recoil to see these things. They repulse me. I look away.


And yet again, the misty droplets lighten. I notice that I am in a forest glade and all is deep wet greens and dark woods around me. The air has cleared a bit more and I can smell a bit of pine and juniper in my breaths. I breath a bit easier and deeper and feel strength in those familiar scents. Apprehensively, I glance back at the altar and realize the pile of things has grown and yet I cannot make out their exact form. I find myself angry at these things that ruin so beautiful a place and I reach my hand up to swing at the pile and knock it off the altar. In that second, I feel a sharp and terrible pain in my right foot! I fall to the side gasping at the strength of the pain that reaches through my every fiber and causes me to feel faint. There in the grass, a small dark snake is slithering away. It has red spots down it's back and it hisses an angry retort before slithering away. I shake and tremble in abject fear and terrible pain. I reach to lift the skirt of my heavy gown and see blood running down my foot; the pain intensifies. I gasp to feel it and at that moment realize the mists have retreated even farther from me. The day grows brighter now.


I look again at the bite mark and realize that is glowing from within me and that glow is spreading thru my foot and up my leg in a rapid ascent. There is almost a sparkler like quality as it crackles and begins to transform my skin and burn the dress away. Large pieces of dark green fabric fall way and shrivel into ash as they float to the ground; each piece, and I feel lighter. My legs are lit by this otherworldly golden glow and I watch the fire spread thru me and in the end I am dressed only in the lightest of garments, feathers of a sort. I reach my hands up and allow the searing power of this transforming venom to perform its magic on me. It reaches higher and higher and I find my being enraptured in a pain that is almost pleasure and heady awareness. And I feel myself begin to scream, and then the scream turns to this note of purest intensity and I am singing so fully at the top of my lungs. I feel my throat open and I turn and turn, slowly, allowing the scream to fill me and all of this sound to pierce the remaining mists before me. The sound fills me so entirely and I feel consumed by it and as if I will consume the world before me with it.


The mists lift with each tone emulating from my being until they have fallen away entirely to the deep blue sky above me. The now fiery and radiant gold of my skin joins the radiant burning yellow of the sun. I feel my self lit from within and without. I revel in the brightness but my eyes struggle to adjust. And now I notice, a sacred white Ibis stands at my right side and I reach for it, sure I am to mount it and take flight. But as I reach, I realize my arms have become wings and my body is light and covered in white feathers. I bend my legs and leap up and up and begin to soar. All of this is below me. The altar is fading now, these gray stones turned white and shimmering in the brightest of early morning suns. I feel the warmth of the sun on my back and the wind flows under and over and around me.


I am the beginning of wisdom and all knowing.

The Hierophant

I find my feet on solid gray stone; gray stone that stretches away from me, forming a long corridor. To my right, many columns appear in a row, supporting a very old edifice. I gaze up and up at spires that reach into morning blue sky forming an ancient cathedral. All is ornate and chiseled and stunning. In front of me, each column lets in the rising sun and I feel it warm on my face. I walk forward and the sun is temporarily obscured by each pillar I pass. I walk like this for a while, feeling the warmth and feeling the cool in turn. I notice then, that a choir has begun the slowest, most beautiful chant. Long tones in perfect harmony blend behind me as I gaze into the sun's rays and for a moment I close my eyes feeling and hearing the vibrations of the voices in my soul


The strains of choral music have filled the spaces behind me. And I turn, feeling drawn by music more heavenly than I have heard before. I step towards the opening of this grand cathedral that has arisen in the spaces behind the columns. Grand spires are reaching towards the sky with bells tolling. Chiseled stone work and expert masonry rise in stunning beauty. I watch gargoyles ready to take flight and feel each motif and decoration of this intricate edifice within my being. Each spire and each ornament seems to touch something inside of me and I turn towards the heady beauty. There is a heaviness that seems to root my feet in place. I am so small compared.


I inch forward on silent feet. turning into the grand portico and entering this grand place. I look up to see faint light streaming in thru colored glass. Beams and rays of sun seem distinctly placed without becoming a wash of light. I find myself in a dim circle as if I am truly alone even though the voices of the choir fill my very core making thought almost impossible.


I stand behind a grand congregation attired as one with their backs to me and robes in differing shades of gray and black. Their heads are bent contemplatively in reverent worship. High above all this, an intricate ceiling painted in the brightest mural catches my gaze. Here shepherds lead their flocks across rolling green hills and maidens fetch water in stone urns. I notice swirling cloaks of deep color and watch faces that are indistinct. Angels grace fluffy golden clouds and tiny cupids flit amongst the common folk with eyes raised so in awe. Even in these faces I feel reverence and worship.


My gaze shifts now to the front of this grand place and I watch a serious priest slowly proceed down the aisle. He wears a triple golden crown balanced perfectly on his head. His eyes are closed in furrowed concentration as he swings an ewer back and forth from which pours a fragrant smoke. I am engulfed in a misty hazy and I feel my head grow light and distant in the catch of this sacred place and the potent incense. He continues to walk and then as he reaches the last row, he turns and slowly proceeds forward again. His flowing robes, deep velvet red, fall to trail on the smooth stones below his feet. He is unaware of any but his deep devotion. I watch his crowned head bob and gesticulate. I feel as if I am there but growing farther away, lost in the scent of so much grandeur.


To my right, I realize so many tiny candle flames burning. They are warm and shimmering. I seem to float along the side of the church to where they reside. As I reach my hand to feel their warmth, I startle to realize I have no form. I am of this place but invisible. I reach thru myself but I am as though I were not there. I barely feel my feet, lighter now, caught in the deep reverence and quiet and the knowledge of my invisible passage here. I look around to see that those I thought were gripped in reverential awe are faceless ones, captured in their dark robes and standing so tall and still. They are frozen there and I cautiously leave the candled prayers and memories to continue towards the front.


There stands the choir, mirroring those of the congregation. They are clad in robes of brilliant white and gold and hoods that hide any face to be seen. I wonder at these dark and light ones facing each other in deep worship. It seems a mirror of sorts and my gaze passes back and forth between it all.


I have reached the front and face this priest, seated now in regal pose. In this place, he is the only one with a visible face. His velvet robes cascade about him and land in perfect waves at his feet. He faces forward barely seeing me and I wonder at the heavy crown of gold he must wear upon his head. It seems so heavy and of the most pure of golds encrusted with few gems. His hand, he holds high as if to bless me and those behind me and I feel as though it radiates some sort of power that I fear. Then he looks in my direction and I feel the watery but observant eyes of him boring into my soul. I find my misgivings seen there and I glance down in humble concern. He has seen my invisible form when no others could. I raise my eyes again as I sense him offering me his triple scepter to take and touch. Stretching my hand, I lightly rest my fingertips against it and feel this heavy power. Startled I withdraw my hand, mumbling a hurried benediction as I turn from him.


I reach for a sacrament and watch it turn to dust in my invisible hand. It lifts into so many sparkling filaments and a million tiny floating dusty motes and I realize a ray of sun has caught them from a window too high above my head to see. Leaving them floating there, I proceed down the center aisle.


I walk slowly, one foot and then another. It is so still here and I am the only motion I sense even though I am unseen.


With my vision downcast I realize the aisle between this congregation has begun to turn to green mossy grass. I place my feet, feeling the cool gentle touch of this earth beneath them. Slowly I raise my head to realize the entire front of the church is now a grassy field, resplendent in wild flowers and verdant green. The congregation has faded to my sides. My feet relax into the gentle soil and fragrant grass and I breath deeply of nature. A tiny bird calls. I hesitantly glance behind me to realize the church has faded to a gray shimmering image. It appears as a mirage in the golden light and I watch it grow fainter and fainter until I am barely sure of the lines that created so sure an image. I turn forward again to realize I walk along a row of trees. They are evenly spaced one after the other and I walk beside them, the sun warming me and the trunks shadow cooling me by turn. I am reminded of the gray columns earlier in this vision but this cathedral is made of deep blue and high reaching sky, and deep brown earth below. Each trunk is a rough barked column and I slow my walk to reach out my arms to this living corridor. Solid trunk and living tree. I pause to feel the sun upon my face and realize a tiny blue bird has perched before me calling the most glorious whirl of music and song. I am enchanted before all lifts away to bring me back to this place.

The Fool

It's crisp and cool. I hug my arms tighter around me, this first spring day. There's still the chill of winter, the tiny grasses pushing their way thru dripping and melting snow. Tiny alpine flowers catch in the fresh breezes and I glance up to see I am surrounded by blue, snow capped mountain peaks. I stand in this great expanse. The mountains don't tower over me because I am walking upon one them. In between them the valley drops so far below and my heart catches a bit in my chest to feel how high I am.


I walk a tender path and barely one at that, littered with remnants of snow and ice and I feel poorly dressed for this day. My gown is thin and sheer. I feel the damp coolness deeply even though the sun shines. Mists and clouds are even with my hands and I reach to touch the filmy haze. Still, brightness fills this place. A sense of anticipation that far outweighs that pale sun tremors thru my thin frame. I clutch my thin gown closer to my shivering body.


I take one tentative step and then another. There is no memory of how I have come to this far off and lofty place. ...another step. I don't remember before and I only take in the now. Although such magnificence surrounds me, my eyes remain cast down and noticing the tiny plant beings that begin to grow and stretch in this spring that has dawned. I notice small pink flowers and dainty bluebells and fresh shoots of grass. All is tiny and delicately adorned. I smile gently to see such stubborn growth in this almost harsh but magnificent place.


Caught in my reverie, I realize there is a jaunty whistling in the air and finally I raise my eyes. I notice a man, brightly dressed and almost seeming to dance towards me on this path. He reminds me of a leprechaun and I smile to watch his confident walk and happy demeanor.


His clothes are fine and his shoes and leggings remind me of many days gone by. Bright golds and reds and something green. He is ornate and old fashioned. But somehow his vitality makes it hard to look at anything else and he is the brightest part of my vision in these stunning mountains. "Ho there" he seems to call and question in one phrase. I smile and reach out my hand to span this magnificent scenery. "Isn't it lovely, this first day of spring?" I call, my smile belying the reticence I feel.


He seems less interested in me though and more intent on this journey he is set upon. He barely answers except for a huge smile gracing his amiable face. "Follow me, if you wish?" and he passes me and continues down the path which I now realize is headed straight over the edge of this mountain precipice we stand on. I think to grab him back and protect him. But he is not bent on any sort of destruction. His face and his body are filled with life and delight and so much bright energy. But before I can do anything, I notice a small terrier barking noisily at his heels and the man reaches over to scoop up the dog, laughing at him all the while. "Calm, Spartacus, calm..." he reassures the small dog and then turns again to the air that fills the space before him.


"There's nothing there sir", I call, seeing his intent to walk over the edge.


"O but my dearie, there is...don't you see that path that is made in the clouds before us?" And truly, as my gaze turns, I see each cloud like a stepping stone across the expanse of valley before us. There is a way of sorts chained in between these great mountains, and my mouth rounds to see it.


And as I stare, all of this falls away and I notice the landscape changing drastically. I am alone now and the sky has darkened. The sea rages beneath me and I stand on a tall stone cliff feeling myself destined to fall. Although the vertigo rises up to engulf me, I feel no fear. I only know the exhilaration of all that is to come and I already feel the surge in my being and the initial step and the plummeting that raises my core into my throat. All around me gray clouds roll and spill over each other in an almost angry dance. The sea below crashes in white wave upon white wave over a dark blue expanse.


And I am heady with the knowledge of surrendering to the deep pull and magic of the dark waters below. I know I will not come undone and I will cocoon myself as I submerge and I will know the world underwater as I haven't known it before and I will live and breath and find my being in that place.


And truly as I fall, the water catches me, surprisingly warm and folding over me in deep embrace. I feel myself covered and safe. I swim gracefully, growing a tail where once I had legs and breathing through my mouth as if I had sprouted gills. I feel as if I have become of the merfolk. I am free but supported. My body feels no weight any longer. Deep blue and shades of white and lighter blue swirl around me. This dance of the sea is more beautiful than anything I have experienced before. She waltzes and tugs and pulls and carries and enfolds. Tiny bubbles of the purest form float by me and tickle my arms and I giggle this soft underwater sound. Bubbles that sparkle and catch at the sun so far above. I am warm and safe and this is the world I know beyond the other.

Tiny creatures share this dance with me, ebbing and flowing and swimming with the tides and currents. I reach to touch soft membranes and shimmering jellyfish. Tentacles twist and twirl in this darkened light. I am fascinated and rendered calm and floating.


These visions fold on top of one another seeming almost to fall upon me in rapid succession. I am powerless to stop their path forward.


I recede from the stirring and vibrant visions, now finding myself in the dark of a womb of cultivation, of inner knowing. No longer do I see with my eyes. It is here that I see the zero so clearly from the card. Zero, expanding stretching - it is a circle, it is a cup, it is a holding of sorts. And I feel the dawning of realization and the knowing of how much zero can hold. Zero holds infinity and from nothing comes all that ever was and ever will be. Zero can not be placed in a pattern. Zero is the cup I now hold and which holds me and into which I can put everything and nothing. Zero is the cosmic egg that holds the universe and all potential that surrounds and stretches out into the beyond. All is possible. At first I was formless and void and darkness covered me. But now I will be reborn into infinity. And the egg cracks as I push against this unseen wall.

Divine Feminine

This blog is dedicated to my sweet friends Lauren and Allison who have taught me so much concerning the Divine Feminine...with so much love

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Images...velvet, sinking, sensation. There is all and this grandeur and then there are pinpricks of vision. Temple, tent, grove, sea. I am in each place by turns, caught in this web of sensation, unable to move much but just to absorb and just to be. Stillness, arms raised, sky so far, and earth so close, and then stars around me and then earth so far. And earth skimming away almost as if I have taken flight in this vortex and am being pulled along and into - this rush of sound and everything so loud and cacophonous.


There is this red tent - there is the ancient and this primal. And there is this swirling - so many dancers and ornate skirts adorned with tiny wooden castanets and dancing tambourines and ribbons. Scarves and skirts whirling in the night, gossamer and catching the shimmer of light and play of color - flames dancing and giving a shape not quite human. Shadows distorted and taller than usual, slimmer and with more willow like form. And there is blood running down my legs and nothing to stem its flow - my moon blood. It is ancient and it is all the ages and it is all of life and it is sustaining. I raise up empowered and emboldened. I am the mother but the mother is all. I will create and I am the bridge of the spirit and body. I am the medium that will take spirit inside my own and create this body and this earth. Only goddess may be such - only goddess can be this channel. My moon blood dripping onto the earth below and feeding and nourishing.


Then I sink to the ground with it, and feel this dimness pervade, and my body let go and letting the mother hold me and the earth be my pillow and my bed. And now I am earth again but mother is earth and so tangible and so wet and so dusty and so gritty and so soft. And then simmering and this quiet and this altar and this beauty. Earth, tree, leaves. Now so close - each vein of each leaf. Tiny maps to infinite places. Each shortened step I take in these slippers of grass and delicate flowers and all this other silence. A silence that holds sound. Is that possible? Maybe it's more the intricate quiet I feel in this grove. These leaves that rustle and these branches that reach like quiet white barked arms in the darkness. Their form is rootless and their reach is infinite. They create this artwork and this lattice without exact pattern and this shelter with openings to beyond. Stark white and black tracings - these branches dance but gently in the soft night breezes. Dancing slowly but surely and dancing more obviously and this net of safety shaking and trembling and rising up. And the wind carries me again, farther and over and the present things recede and once again more is in my vision. Pinpricks of things that float so clearly into view and then recede just as rapidly - the altar.


The flame. I can see it burning. Dancing - destruction and creation all in that tiny light. I can see all the elements together now created by Mother. Her reach is everywhere, to my deepest self and more that I cannot even fathom. I can see earth and air and fire and now there is water. The sea. The sea. I am so far from it, on a toppy crag. So far above, this cliff, rugged and gray. The sky so gray with it. Spray - salty spray. I am only as the elements - naked and unashamed - clothes and scarves and skirts have faded away and I am vulnerable to all the earth and the Mother and I am at one with her and yet submitted to her entire being. Salty spray - cold and with a texture all its own. It trickles down my face and drips onto my breasts and my knees and onto my toes and I am standing in this coolness. My tears? Or the ocean? The ocean, the lull, the sound, the waves, the rippling, the undulation and the lack of fixed space. How will I descend that cliff? I will float, not on feet, not on earth, but on air, and no motion of my own seems to carry me lower and lower to the edge of that warm and moving water. The sea, it beckons and it calls and I am powerless to stop my path towards it. Now sandy, now briny, now feet wet and there I am, in this warm salty water, earth again but water more. Giving myself up, arms raised, naked and just as I came to this world but now with the marks of all life changing my art. To the sea, to the mother, relinquishment, trust, becoming one again with once what I was. Sinking, losing form, human no more. Rather a bit of sand, and salty sea and sky as well. I can't see anymore but to feel it all. To feel so much as to be everything - to be all land and all water and all trees and then again nothing at all.

The Moon

Inky darkness settles in around me, so deeply I can almost taste it. With that settling comes an apprehension that seems to rise like so many mists in dark trailing spirals. I close my eyes and feel cool breezes tugging at me and slowly I cross my arms over my heart. My body seems to be rocking and swaying and as I open my eyes ever so little, I realize I am in a rough wooden row boat crudely constructed of beams and planks. I rest my hand against the side and feel the threatening of splinters and pain. The boat pitches and rises in that moment and I feel my stomach lurch with it. Waves lap at the sides of the boat and I am now aware of a scratching at the sides. My heart clenches in fear of the unknown.


I bravely raise my eyes from the bottom of the rough hewn boat and notice how dark it truly is. I know there is water all around me but it is hard to see much beyond the murky shadows. I turn my head to the right and notice far in the distance, the steady light of the moon shines. I find myself drawn to her light and my gaze refuses to break with hers. Shining, shining and as I gaze, I realize the light seems so much stronger than this darkness. Still prickles of fear touch at my skin and I glance around me again finding the moonlight shimmers ever so slightly on the black waters. There are no stars. Only that steady beam. And as I follow the beam out again, I notice I am not far from shore. Indeed I seem to be traveling towards the blackened edge of this body of water. I watch it come closer and closer, still aware of those clawing sounds, still afraid to leave this tiny place of seeming refuge, this rough and painfully constructed boat.


I feel a sharp tug and then my boat seems to stand still. The scratching stops and the small waves seem to beckon with their gentle sounds. I tentatively reach a hand out of the boat and feel the water, almost warm to my fingertips. I realize I am meant to go ashore and I stand carefully finding my balance in the unstable boat. One step and then another, and I am knee deep in this strange dark water. I slosh ashore and gratefully find the rocky solidness under my feet a comfort. I glance again at the moon and realize there is some sort of path before me. The way is faint and littered with tiny sharp shards of rock. I am bare foot, I realize and I know the way will bruise and scar my feet.


Still, I take one step, and then another and suddenly I start to realize there is a beautiful white wolf at my side. I glance into her eyes which seem lit from inside. They are pools of deep blue in this moonlit night. She simply stares back into my own eyes and I sense she is there to guide me. Indeed I hear this calming melodious tone that comforts me even though her mouth has not moved. I place my hand on her smooth fur that reflects the moonlight perfectly. She almost glows and we begin again this path that seems to pull me forward so intuitively. And now I am aware of something dark and shadowy to my left. I am almost afraid to look. But when I do, it is the darkened form of a dog. Her eyes glow yellow and I start at their reflection of my fear. I push closer to the wolf, having found a comfort there.


But the dog means me no harm. I watch as she clings to the shadows and ever so slightly behind me. And we continue on, this strange trio in the moonlight. One step and then another and now I realize there are shadowy mists have started curling and swaying and spiraling around me. I watch in fascination until one of the mists seems to grow eyes. I jump and my heart races. Still another gains a hand and then a foot seems to trip me as I stumble forward in the dark. Suddenly it seems we are surrounded by these ghostly creatures and the light of the moon seems more faint thru their gossamer flight.


I push on, my heart pounding, my feet bleeding and aching. It seems this is a journey of madness and I am only traveling closer to my undoing. I wonder if the path will ever end as it seems I have not traveled any closer to my destination. And I wonder what my destination is. My mind seems muddled and disturbed.


Just when I fear I cannot take another step, I find myself in front of the face of the moon. Her eyes are watching and still and her mouth curves in silent observation. She speaks much without any words to hear. Still my heart feels a comfort and I reach my hand to touch yellowish white beauty and feel the light cool under my fingertips.


Then in one screeching moment, I realize I have lost all ability to perceive anything sensory. My heart races but I can't feel it. My eyes are sightless and all is dark. My ears hear nothing and I am only aware of the vacuum I suddenly find myself in. All is black and I stand on nothing but darkness. I begin to panic. I raise my hands to cover my ears but I don't feel my arms moving. Everything is deafening in the utter silence and lack of feeling. And then I hear the words, Look within...and I lower my head and look deep into my belly. My head is bowed to my chest and I notice inside of my naval a picture begins to grow, of green fields and verdant trees and a bright and golden path which starts with the sun upon it and warmth that I can feel even as I observe. I am at once aware of this darkness in which I stand and the deep glowing that comes from my belly. They stand in stark contrast. I fully look up and again I am assaulted by this utter blackness and terror and sensory deprivation. Quickly I bow my head again to look inside of my belly and I know that I must look this way to see how to walk. I realize I am now stepping this path and I am aware of both realities, the one above my head and the one inside myself.


"The path lies inside of you. The path lies inside of you, the path lies inside of you." These words fill my soul and emanate thru my entire being, reverberating and echoing and vibrating until it is all I am aware of. Racing away and I see the image pull from me as if it were a vortex swirling and I was the center, away away, and now I am laying here again, clutching the moon card to my quaking chest.

Yule

Not too many days ago, someone said to me after a holiday party in which we all shared some music and treats, "we must create more times like this - these warm and welcoming times. These loving times. These times that feed the soul" And that sounds so fetching and wishful. And truly, I suppose we might create those moments any time of the year. But that comment made me ponder and reflect on the magical and spiritual qualities of this time of the year - this Solstice, this Christmas, this Yule, this Festival of Lights. I have felt something so deep in preceding years as I gaze out across snow covered fields with gaunt and skeletal trees, as I long for the mountains in their capped silence and sentinel strength. There always seems to be a misty quality, a haze that stretches its fingers around and thru and penetrates even my heart now. I am so aware of something so much more real than this reality itself. Those spirits past and present. Those spirits future and beyond. Those who have preceded us into the West and those yet to come. But more than anything those that have gone on before seem so vibrant and whispering in these still and wintry moments. I feel the cold physically but the warmth of these feelings overcomes that and I am so touched by these spirits and these hauntings and these images that feed my soul. There is a different narrative this time of year. There is a resonance and an echoing that I can't deny as I hear each person speak and as I see each object before my eyes. It's as though everything projects more dimensions than usual. It's as though everything has been drawn and then painted with foam paint to create a raised relief that strikes me in unusual ways. I feel as if there is all wisdom hidden in these shorter days and long nights. There is much that is aged and ancient in these wizened traditions. I feel as if I watch, I will notice something I never have before.


And this brings me back to what my friend said and my feeling that these times can't be so easily created at other times in the year. At this time of year, we all huddle around a small fire and don't mind the closeness of another in this search for warmth. At this time of year, we sip warm drinks and feel the fluid running and trickling thru our beings and spreading this comfort with it. At this time of year we wear more clothing and cuddle under more blankets and feel this need for companionship. We don't mind so much the crowding and the family and all the trappings of the holidays. And so we need each other more and we need the blazing fire and the reminders that spring isn't quite so far away. We move more slowly and maybe eat a bit more. There isn't this need to strive or accomplish in the same way that spring and the new year drive us to. There's a slowness and a nostalgia and a reflection that I find unique.


So I believe these times are the magical ones. The things we do are often infused with a love that reaches far back, perhaps before the beginning of time. The ministrations we give ourselves over to connect us to this past and this present and those that are so far away and perhaps even to those that are gone on from our realm. We serve and eat this warmth and this comfort. We send cards to those we haven't communicated with for possibly a year or more. We reach out in ways we don't as often in the rest of year. We are more charitable, more hospitable, more aware of those in need. And these things contribute something. And these things place us differently. These tiny actions create auras that that are infrequent at other times. And I wonder if these auras of ours, begin to blend and grow as light meets light and love meets love until they burgeon into something bigger and more tangible and there is like so many rocks thrown in a lake and the ripples growing and growing until they meet in choppy undeniable waves.


I see tiny lights twinkling and making less the darkness. I feel shadows made less with familiar carols and phrases I have heard since before I was born. And I see these pictures of traditions and harmony as if I was looking into illuminated snow globes with tiny figures posed in love and giving. Colored lights, warm cookies, cards with glitter, green trees and the smell of cinnamon and pine. But still more..these snow crusted fields, these broken wooden fences, these purple shadows that reach their arms to a twilight sky - this time between the times alight with magic. And these places rising higher and higher and breaking into snow capped peaks and tall indigo mountains. And I feel this rising and this chorus. There are so many here and they are not all human. But they are strong with us and they are there for us. And I wonder at their being and there lack of place at other times when I am so sure of their presence now. This melody or this hymn sung with more voices than mine fills the cold and humid air, freezing in little crystals of light and shimmer.


I wonder if what I feel will be more clear in time. Or perhaps the mystery is what adds so much to this season for me - layers of snow upon layers, blanketing and obscuring. And so I continue on, making cookies, having friends over, serving hot cocoa and playing the old familiar carols. I serve this dinner or that. I give hugs and receive the love there is. Family...Friends... Even strangers. I feel so much in the eyes of those I care about and even in the eyes of those I barely know. Those eyes. So many lovely eyes - darker and deeper in these dim lights. I see their sparkle and their love. I see their tears and the crinkle that comes in laughter. This yearning or this wonder. I hear and I absorb and I wonder. This wonder. O beautiful wonder that makes me keep reaching for more of this journey and this time. And the greatest thing - the greatest of all these, love and heart. And these are synonymous with warmth for me. And that I will reach to give in any way I can.


I bend down, my knees touching the frozen snow. I reach out and touch falling snow with my bare fingers. Cold stings and freezes and so I let the snow slip thru my hand and cram my fingertips back into that too-small coat pocket.  Icy crystals reflect twinkling lights and shimmer.  I can't shake these things and I don't fully understand them. But memories that I have never had, and songs that I haven't yet heard press at me and call to me. And I wish I could follow them into the mystical night, the glitter of stars, and the glow of smooth snow that blunts anything harsh but the cold itself.

Meeting the Magician

I sit for a moment, taking in the essence of the Magician. The card feels warm in my hand and lit from behind and the light is yellowy and bright. I gently close my eyes and the card itself recedes as my fingertips hum with the vibration of that light..

Images begin to form in front of me and I am no longer in this room. I sit with my legs drawn up under my chin, in a meadow with soft waving grass and a large tree filling the space in front of my eyes. From where I sit, everything is golden and sunny, one of those picture perfect days in early summer. The birds flit and chirp and I watch their movements in gentle fascination. They fly from grass blade to tree branch and back again, their songs blending in perfect harmony. I am relaxed and comfortable as I feel the grass beneath my toes and I feel the energy of this moment and the energy of my being blending as one in a way that makes me feel this scene is an extension of myself. The warm sunshine creates these dappled patterns on the ground in front of me, as it intensely shines thru leaves and branch. So many patterns - whorls, circles, energy. They are dancing. And I wonder if I can actually see the air itself as it eddies and flows and mixes with the light above. I feel like I would recreate so much in a painting with swirls and dips and strokes of light and fire energy. I smile at this play in front of me.

And now, this stately and somehow magical tree takes my attention - perhaps it is an oak tree. The leaves form a round and perfect canopy just beyond my head. The canopy of dancing leaves begins to fill so much of the space above my head. I feel myself drawn into the space of those dancing leaves. They come closer and closer until I am floating and floating and I reach out to touch the strong, thick branches of this ancient tree.

Resting on one thick branch near the base of the tree and looking down, just below me, I notice this man. He is strong but not muscular. He is straight and well formed. There seems to be so much of this swirling light around him and he exudes deep assurance. He is clothed in robes that ebb and sway with his movements as well as with the warm sun scented breeze. He raises an arm high above his head, and I am aware of an instrument of some such gripped securely in his hand. Over his head swirls more of this visible energy and I watch in fascination as it begins to circle in a hazy but bright figure 8. I feel strange chills go thru my being as I watch this but I am not cold.

This magician begins to chant spells and call air and earth and fire and water to him, one by one as he masterfully conducts his craft. Light and sparkles and shimmers swirl around his being and shake from his robes and he is deeply immersed in his workings. He doesn't notice me and yet I find myself drifting closer, drawn by the magnetism and the sureness in his movements and by the elements that seems suspended and living in the circle of his magic.. A circle of beautiful flowers has formed around him, pinks and reds and lush, succulent vines. The flowers seem to have a body and life that is tangible and engorged and I feel as if I would touch a blossom and come away with their living color on my palms. I breath deeply feeling my lungs expand with the richness of this moment. A sweet but delicate floral smell fills my nostrils and I am overcome in the beauty of it. I feel tears filling my eyes. So much crackling power and light fills this place. No longer am I separate but rather I am one with the energy.

The magician catches my gaze and I feel my tears glisten and catch the dancing light that surrounds us both. My tears leave my face to become powerful orbs of color in the presence of this vision. They are the element of water and from mine own self they are more than tears - they are drops of purest emotion. And emotion emanates between the both of us. Our gazes move back and forth, this transfer of knowing. There are no spoken words and yet I feel his communication and he feels mine. My eyes raise without trying, to the object in his hand and he seems to sense a shift. He raises his other hand to grab this object and all the while his body remains still. He is strong and he controls himself and his motions with dexterity and grace. He gives a half smile and his own eyes are glistening in this beautiful light. My hands reach to grasp this wand of wielding. I hold it and turn it over and over in my wondering hands. It is made of smooth white stone, so beautiful and calming and yet so empowering. I feel something tingling and moving through it even though the stone itself is solid. My eyes fill with its shape and my heart contracts as if this wand is an extension of my own being.

Images fading now. This idyllic scene. I see it being absorbed into a vortex of which I am the center. I am flying thru the universe and this vision becoming smaller and smaller. But I still hold the stone wand and I focus on it as everything flies around me. I focus on it and it fills my vision as I realize my surroundings have again become as they were but in my hands, I hold this wand rather than the Magician Card.