[h0ldem]

To explain this piece of writing and how it relates to Shamanism, I would have to go into all the aha moments I have had in the last few weeks of returning to journeying, more seriously now , than I did a few years ago.

(and you would all be yawning before getting to the end of this intro ) I never worked with a teacher ( shamanic ) before , I am self taught in most things and its only in the last two years I have explored creativity through Art as well as words . I wanted to upload some pictures here but the size is too big .

Anyway , my close friend set a request on her blog about writing the Goddess, she wanted it as inspiration for her to make art around , I was reluctant as she requested it at a time when I was tentatively re discovering an old path and I didnt want to invent a Goddess, my yearning was for a real encounter .

Anyway , around Beltane ( I was just starting to journey again then ) I did a tarot reading for myself , using the Mary El Tarot , an incredible deck by the way .

A card I pulled was the Judgement card which she depicts as the phoenix http://www.mary-el.com/20.html so this caught my attention and I thought what about a Goddess relating to that and its symbolism ..I made notes, and told my friend I would write something for her .. But it was on Sunday just past that I sat down to write it up ( new Moon ) and what came through, was not as I had originally planned, but when I was writing I could *see* the teaching that came through creatively that was about me and for me .

I had also forgotten it was the eclipse at the time I was writing as well .

My feeling is that we can forget that through creativity, we open a channel that can be so rich in wisdom , insight and healing and a way to continue the journey process. I feel like when I journey it is as if I tap into the creative divine as well as everything else that happens there and there are these subtle moments afterwards where connections are made and those wee aha moments click and whir in my mind .

It came up again as I journeyed today to the upper world and the process of doubt that I have had to battle through most of my life, but more so last year , was far less as I was reminded during the journey of some of the words I had written in this.

So , that gives you a wee bit of a background .

....oh and part of this Story is true ..not telling you which part though..
enjoy !

Love and blessings from
M


© copyright Mhairead MacDonald
IMG00651-20120326-1818.jpg



Goddess in the fire of knowing ~


The parchment you now hold in your hands, this writing you see , in its long and spidery scrawl was created by one much like you , who sought the ways of the Shape Shifter , the Bird Woman , the Tree Singer , the Mountain Carrier, the Great Seer and Warrior.
She who is called when the fire blazes highest.
She who knows the way between worlds .

She sought me far and long , the woman writing this now with a shaking hand , a half smile on her lips as she steals glances at me. For the words appear on the page just as I say them , and sometimes even before they are fully formed by my mouth .

She travelled much , and as her hair began to gray at the root , she questioned passionately , so much so that those on her path grew weary for her. She sang my songs that the wind whispered to her as she slept beneath the trees and in the mountains cradle , she learned them slowly along the way. She carried them with great care in her heart as all do who hear them, and then the visions came, and yes, I know she doubted, and questioned , what she saw.

Doubted long into the night and deep into the cold bone winters of the North.

She cloaked herself in doubt so thick I could not stand it close to me.

I watched her as she sat so very still upon a wooden chair , her body held in silence, with one lighted candle beside her .

Moths flitted and bathed in its pool of warmth and danger, they flew into the shadowed cloak of swirling dark, then turned and whirled back out to return to the flame , flying just close enough to singe their wings and burn off the residue of the thickly shadowed spell, before returning out into the night and to my coaxing love.

But, at last she sang her own song , in the place of her returning she put the large smooth sea stones in a circle , she walked barefoot into its ring and into the centre of her being.

Or was it something more simple , that she was ready at last to hear my voice keening above the wind and know in a deep recognition, beyond all knowing , that it sounded much like her own in its pitch and tone, but was also like her Mothers . Like her Grandmothers in the singing notes and words, and on , on into the great ocean of timelessness , there was a harmony she knew.

No matter , some questions are never answered , what is here in these words is what she transcribed , half dreaming , half awake, betwixt and between this world and many others, one , the place where I dwell, she now knows in the very pores of her skin .

I made sure she knew it was me the first time and was in no fear before I approached her.
I have been known to startle, my appearance, though acceptable in some circles, is not easy on the human eye , sometimes the light and colour can be too strong, even when dimmed to suit the time and place.

I am of the earth in its essence and purity, the crystalline colours transmuted in my skin, which glows according to the moon phase .

I dress simply in order to blend as though invisible of course, at times the glamour is toned into shades of autumn browns , but I still can be seen by those who know how to look .
I also drop a feather or two, but that’s a whole other story.

We had already met in her dreams, they are a portal to the seeker , but she did not fully recall them , there was one where she sat with me at table and we talked as old friends do, but she only recalled a fragment on waking , and held a feeling inside of the joy we had shared, it was enough though, to set up the yearning.

I also communed with her in her poetry and her crafting arts .
I am able to linger long enough to leave a scented trail and a hint of knowledge unbidden , a sudden insight that can only be articulated in a particular way.

She knew to burn frankincense at the new moon , but to touch the bark of the mighty Oak just as it begins the spring sap was even more powerful for invoking .
She knew that gratitude for its green beauty in summer and winter shadow at twilight , was nectar to my heart.

She somehow knew that to speak out loud of her thoughts and wonders , like she had done often as a child, would be met with delight and pleasure as the green light flickered through the sun filled leaves.

And in this knowing she grew to know.

That is where I appeared to her first , by that lovely oak , though she thought it was imagination, she stepped into my pool of energy. I told her things , whispered them into her ear and she knew in her soul that they were true, her heart and mind however were another matter.
She did not understand the teaching I gave her , the words of light about her love and what she would discover .

So she walked into it all instead, as a woman would walk into a wild ocean to bathe naked in a momentary madness.

She knew its joy and then the pain, the greater teacher than I , being that of experience.
But then I am also like that knotted twisted bark on the tree, within that tree is all the seed of wisdom that you need.

So now I tell her of the great phoenix bird, the one of many names, yet none.

The Garuda of myth , the Goddess of fire and wing , who after travelling and seeking all she needs to seek and know , returns to build her nest of alchemy.

She knows the sun as her lover and lives in his palace of light, with its silken marble walls and a garden of vast and ancient trees is where she weaves her nest of spikenard and other amber resins.

Scented woods that she has collected on her travels, herbs and flowers from the secret places, offerings from the old ones.

The perfume in the nest , is so pungent and thick that when the fire touches it, the smoke sends the world into a deep sleep .

And no one sees the great bird rise again from the ashes, not a one has witnessed this great shift from life to death, to life again, the secret remains in the story, the spell is in the casting.

This great and glorious , beautiful creature, who causes a shadow to cross the sun as he grieves her momentary loss. For he is part of the great forgetting, just for a moment. Then he returns to dance again, in light and the warmth of giving, he nurtures the world with his love.

It is a legend and a myth , and a true story, I tell her , as she looks at me seeking the fire that flickers behind my eyes , all are the same when meaning is needed are they not?

So now she tells me we have come full circle , which of course is how it is meant to be.
Her questions are sudden and urgent , like a bubbling river.

What Goddess are you ? Are you Fae in all things as I suspect you to be, are you me and am I you ?

As the shell splits open, a great lightening crack to another hatching , we hear the thunder roll around the mountains that surround us . The shadows chase the light away from the fading evening colours of purple , muted greens and brown . The world spins around us in our stillness.

She looks deep into my eyes.

I return her look.

Have I taught you nothing in all these years ?

Know me now as you would your self, for they are one in the same .

But as I walk beside you, know the power of truth is within your heart as never before , know that my voice is yours to call with and my arms will wrap around you in the darkness of the solitary night.

I will send you protection in the shape of a wolf and he will lead you always, all ways .

I will send you courage that is tempered on the anvil of wisdom .

You will read signs and know guidance in a multitude of ways , but most vital of all you will recognise the cloak of doubt and its weight will be so great , you will not wish to wear it for long.

The fire cracks in its belly , flames seeking and reaching up and up, as a dancer does , as it sits centre in the circle of stones, in the dark of the night .

She is beside it, gazing into flame , her face is peaceful and quiet with no lines of thought to tell its story , a slight smile upon her lips .

I circle up and up , into the blue black sky , hearing the star song grow louder in my heart and feeling the soft love rush up beneath my wings .

Know me in these moments, call my name and you will hear me .

Love well and you will know me, learn deeply and you will love me,
as I love you.

© copyright Mhairead MacDonald
IMG00815-20120522-1128.jpg