Ignition

9.5.17 Red Magnetic Serpent and 9.6.17 White Lunar Worldbridger GAP

Entered a ten day journey guided by Cat Caracelo with purple and gold watercolor pastel, two side by side pages with earlier drawings and collage elements::the right had a drawing of a Baba dream . . .  him on a porch with hanging baskets of plants in his pajamas procuring a birdfeeder, the left had pictures from magazines of a child, mother, and older woman that I’d gessoed over all but the little girl.

Started out with gold on the right page and purple on the left, then wet the two with water and brush and they began to flow one page into the other::closed my eyes and opened, looking again at the pages it began to feel like a journey toward inner girl child, a merger of father and mother, gold father, purple mother, royalty  . . . . .

Returned to it the next day and green, blue, and red watercolor pastels carried me forward into spirals, an eye, a beak, compass with lips opening on top . . . sleeping womb baby being called into journey by loose lips, the promise of kisses and nuzzling beaks, corkscrew out into a world where sight reveals it’s a royal road, with winding twisted spiral path ahead, screwed up!!, not quite what was imagined and felt in the warm watery womb!!

9.7.17 Blue Electric Hand GAP and 9.8.17 Yellow Self- Existing Star GAP

Day three involved combining purple and gold on both pages, could feel the sensation of creation or being created from a mixture of both awakening inside this::despite the screwiness, the combining of purple and gold made me, seeded me, brought me out here into world of light . . . I drew in seed heads and leaves that on day four I painted in, just trusting the process and enjoying it rather than ‘thinking’ about anything::inner wisdom probably has a lot to say but once she gets going she won’t stop so rather than pay attention or listen for anything to come chat, just painted slowly feeling into seeds, patterns, shapes, autumn colors, birth, life cycles, coming together falling apart and yet even with separation here I am:created, alive, through a joining of two people who are no longer joined outside of having once been joined on a path and I am evidence of that union . . .

 

9.9.17 Red Overtone Moon GAP and 9.10.17 White Rythmic Dog GAP

Day five and there’s no ‘companions’ on the journey with me, it is solitary so far.  What comes is an image of hands together honoring those who gave me life, both of them, both hands join to make the gesture, both bodies two halves join to gestate me out into the world as their gesture::namaste . . . what strikes me is the hands and the gesture feel right at home on the mother page, very reflective of Mum’s nature and involvement with prayer, honoring, gratitude, while the seeds and plants, though reflected on her page too, are predominant along with the spiral path and the insight, on the Baba page . . . the yang providing the incentive to seed, grow, go out, walk the walk . . . feels like a journey into origins and what the ancestors and heritage have to offer, the key to the mystery stemming from womb roots and spiralling outward into dispersal

Day six a young woman is drawn on the Baba page, who is she?  The little girl growing up?  Arms stretched back, extending wings, leaning into flight . . . where is her sacred power?  In her arms that she can bring together to honor and reach back behind her to experience freedom in flying; she remembers this:: all of it, the screws and nuts and bolts, they all come together in a namaste once she gets soaring into the turning of the labyrinth, she knows this::the eye may see a rut and remain rutted or it may see an oyster and through this emerges a pearl, perception is key to choosing how the spiral is experienced . . . . she faces mother and child looking out from under her, inside her, where there once was an eye on the page::she has no ‘eye’ yet, she simply feels her way to right relationship through releasing backward behind her in flight what may appear as duality and travail::it is all part of being in the oyster, it is moving toward the whole, in lakesh . . .

9.11.17 Blue Resonant Monkey GAP

On the seventh day a little girl opened her eyes to a blood torn world around her, the sounds of marching and angry chanting, revolution sparked and roaring through the streets.  If I had been her mother, I would have cuddled her on my lap and kissed her ears while having grown up conversations; when she leaned closer into me I would have left the grown up conversation and gone to sit outside with her, picked flowers and told a story while we played.  Had I been the little girls’ mother, I would have packed her special dolly when she left her country of birth, I would have told a story about another little girl who went on an adventure by plane with her parents and I would have told the story for a few years to come, weaving in all the places the little girl went, the people she met, the places she left and the people she left; I would have told her these stories while giving her bread and a spreading knife and peanut butter and we’d make sandwiches together.  Then when the little girl’s teacher asked What inspired my little girl, instead of telling her it was her job to find out because I didn’t know, I’d say My little girl is inspired by stories and she loves being given little tasks to do while she listens.  This little girl, had I been her mother, would have snuggled in our bed and we’d have sucked each others fingers and rubbed noses and giggled under pillows and blankets.  When she was troubled by school and asked Could she be with me instead, I’d have respected her request and withdrawn her from school, had her accompany me on my errands and tasks and seen what would have come of it.  When she set out to work as a servant in a neighbours home, I’d have wished her luck and let her know I’d be there to hear about how it went should she want to talk about it.  If the neighbour called to tell me my little girl was seeking employment as a cleaning girl, I’d have laughed and asked whether she hired her and we’d have talked about it . . . but I wouldn’t have mentioned it to my little girl.  There would have been many things I would not have mentioned to this little girl, many things that may not have happened to this little girl had I been her mother, other things would have happened instead and I like to believe they would have been magical for her and the mother she could have had, the mother who had she dived into loving her little girl in all the little simple ways that loving happens between mother and child, without frills and ribbons and socks and shoes and fancy cakes but with hefty heaping serving spoons full of sweetness and respect and mischief and openess and courage and oh all those attributes that are heart warming, like affection and tickles and jalebis, then her mother too would have benefited and grown differently than she has.  But that is not this little girl’s story, for I was not her mother . . . though I have grown to be a mother and having learned from the little girl’s story that she tells me bits of from time to time, I fly in love and light with compassion for her and her mother as well.  Namaste.

9.12.17 Yellow Galactic Human GAP

What’s transforming?  What’s released and claimed?  What’s gifted? . . . dreaming and remembering, I dream and I remember dreaming, most every night what I’m dreaming, who I’m dreaming, sometimes it feels as though I’m incubating dreams for others, dreaming big dreams for others, even people I don’t know . . . sometimes I receive teachings while dreaming, relating to events or questions . . . is dreaming a vocation?? . . . do I have a ‘vocation’? what is it??  Surging, urging, steady . . . hummingbird and dragonfly both drink nectar from marigold, dragonfly calls his relatives under water to come join him above, shift from beetle into flier . . . hummingbird zips about spreading sweetness and love bubbles . . . ginko leaves and old hands, age and time, perhaps I’m leaning into something ancient and old, not yet ripe for it yet?  Preparing . . . feels resonant with my natal chart, Saturn in the house of service, Venus and Neptune in the house of calling and vocation::Saturn indicates time in service, time and service, time time time . . . Venus indicates following what I love, love, harmony, beauty, compassion, love love love, along with Neptune who is another oldie, biggie, vasty, spread and enormous, faraway waters move slowly into sight . . .. keep on planting those seeds, growing, preparing the ground with labyrinths for feet to come walk . . . .

as of now it feels like a solitary human journey with plant and winged allies, when I ponder on gatherings of healers at conferences and conventions, groups of them converged in one place, my skin crawls with remembrance of druid groves convening, all together in one place for the convenience of oppressors to done them in easily; past life memory?  I don’t know but at this time, it’s not for me, the herd . . . present vocation has me completely involved in raising up the seeds already planted, with devotion and commitment, ritual and celebration in trust with what’s entrusted . . . what’s released is something I never claimed or chose for myself but seemed to have been handing to me with an assumption and expectation that I’d ‘take it’ ::having to constantly align myself with what’s outside me::such as aligning with whatever my parents did, they my universe, me aligning with whatever choices they made, lingering this pattern of aligning with choices outside myself . . . I can do it, have done it, know how to do it and it’s heavy to align with outer circumstances that have no relevance or bearing on how I live, my choices, the shaping of our lives as a tribe together::transforming this I release the bondage and baggage of having to sync and align with parents, to ‘take it’, I have done my service to them, visible in a full circle arc of bringing them both back to this land, the land they uprooted me to after moving away from birthland, the land they transplanted me in and then uprooted me again to plant elsewhere; somehow we’ve all ended up and landed here, the four of us from decades ago!  A circle is complete, now it is up to them to choose and live with their choosings how it comes for them, all I have for them is love to give . . . and should they give in return I’ll choose whether and what I’ll receive, no ‘taking’ . . . .

9.13.17 Red Solar Skywalker

Day ten:: musing on trust I found this bit::trust I have in myself, trust I share with Michael who has reciprocally aligned with me and given me what I never had before and left at nineteen searching for::home, not brick and mortar house, though he’s certainly provided that, but home, that centered grounded place from where to grow healthy roots and shoots and leaves . . . it was a long while coming at twenty one, and then trusting into it while riding this paradox::safety is an illusion, a whimsical notion that shatters in the blink of an eye overnight, I’ve witnessed it during the revolution, that turning churned our lives up and away after which there were houses where I had a room but in essence was homeless, for I was reminded often these were not my houses where ‘we’ lived together, when I had ‘my own house’ then I could live as I pleased . . . these reminders ingrained an airport mentality toward the houses I lived and the others who occupied them too::waiting places to leave from and then life would begin as I imagined, and more than anything I imagined inclusion, home as a place of together, wherever it may be, roadside shack, cottage, under a bridge, the place wasn’t the point::the point always was home as a place shared with those I loved, a place where my voice counted, included all residents intimately in collaboration regardless of circumstances, home had an essence that surpassed illusion and safety, it traveled inside me and would be shared with those I traveled with who would return this exchange of their home inside always having doors open to mine . . . it requires enormous courage to live without the illusion of safety, appreciating every day as it comes, being intimate with loved ones and trusting the journey with these others, sharing with them everything, regarding their thoughts and dreams and ideas as having value:::I have lived this way for twenty two years and am only now realizing that it was the absence of these elements in my life that motivated the search and yearning for what we are shaping::I align::I align with Michael, I align with our children, these are the humans I choose to align with, I align with our allies::plants, animals, insects, stars, elements, Spirit, I align with the universe, and I’m learning that by choosing willfully and presently what and how I align with, they align back as well::it is reciprocal and there is an exchange that occurs, often seen as synchronicity in the visible world, it is an engagement, a parlay vouz, a rendez vouz, and with twenty two years of dedicated practice I know that being engaged, adjusting, tuning alignment with changing seasons and growing peoples, shifting perceptions, it is a dance with a heart based language and it is inclusive not exclusively about me, myself, and I, but a union with while the universe sings and signals the dreaming is true and to be trusted . . . . even knowing that safe passage is not guaranteed, only life and death are guaranteed, all else is superfluous and becomes the how of living before death claims from the lowly ant to the lordly cock to the yellow leaves that fall one by one and then life rises again . . . . the story goes like this::when aligned in right relationship with what holds meaning, what is loved, where trust and passion live alongside of everything, somehow one becomes aligned, shedding the ‘with what’, simply becomes Aligned, and in being Aligned one is always at home, in the center, regardless of what’s flowing around or turbulating within, that Alignment transfers to everywhere and everything, becomes the foundation, the warp on the loom of weaving a way of life that is aligned in, not with, but in right relation, which is entirely personal, subjective, and involves intimacy with the whole of one’s being::light, dark, shadow, all of it in union from where the door and the key are not separate  . . . . one is both the key and the door . . . pause and be with this in the labyrinth

9.14.17 White Planetary Wizard GAP

Finishing the rounds of ignition, I’m not looking for a new door, have much to do in the place I’ve stepped through though certainly I’m no caged bird here but am choosing to complete what’s I began before hastening on through new doors.  Patience.  I’m developing patience while I complete this task.  Deepening involvement and engagement with seeds, land, fertility, fellowship, wholeness . . . .today a green dragonfly flew and hovered right at my nose, wings rustling infront of me while I was getting in the car, friendly and up close he wanted to go with us I think!  Even as I walk, I sense that all I’m doing is a gathering for whatever door I step through later, so I go deeper into the shell that holds me, through the dreaming to discover what’s the quickening pulse got to say inside that light yellow sun space . . . . and trust that I’m following the guidance that comes from there as best as I ken it with hummingbird nose diving, always with gratitude steady, recording dreams and diaries as I’ve been doing for three decades almost, even when I’m rushed (like now!) keep the hand moving consistently as a practice, as a process, doing, this is part of my sacred everyday practice, literally even when it’s not necessarily great literary!

 

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