The Salmon and the river Diva

The PHD lives in the middle of a forest in Carmarvanshire. She spends a lot of time wandering around in it and has many favourite places for working. So when I requested a forest and waterfalls, she knew just where to take me.

Astonishingly, the sun was out again! It fingered the spaces between the trees as we walked into the forest. We followed a stream, bubbling and gurgling its way down from the mountain. All along its banks, other springs spouted and gushed and the air was thick with the sounds of flowing water. The birds sang in the sunshine and all felt good with the world.

We crossed a narrow bridge - prompting a song – and made our way to a bench amongst the trees overlooking the stream. Here we settled comfortably and cast our circle, the PHD drumming and I using her rattle.

I was in the water, swimming like a fish – hey, I was a fish. Leaping and flipping into the air, I dove down into the water and under the stones at the bottom.

There an interesting crevice had caught my attention and I squeezed through it and found myself in a dark underground tunnel. Curious, I swam down and into a small chamber filled with water. There was nothing here so I swam on. Soon I discovered that the rocks and earth under the stream were honeycombed with little tunnels; the mountainside was riddled with them. I swam on and on, enjoying the architecture, the shapes like the inside of a body almost or a secret labyrinth.

In time, the dark thinned and the water grew ever so slightly salty. I swam into a big cavern and noticed that I seemed to have metamorphosed again as I now had a human upper body, although I still had a tail instead of legs. There was a rock sticking out of the water, I slithered onto it and sat and looked around.

The cavern was high. There was an archway and a tunnel lit by grey light leading out to open air. Something jogged my memory and I began to suspect that I had been here before. I caught the movement of something leggy and grey out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was only the tunnel beyond the arch.

Then I saw her. She was carved into the wall, sitting in a half lotus position, holding in one hand a lotus root and with her other hand held out. Kwan Yin sat watching me and as I looked at her, she moved, began to unfold her legs and stand.

Her hair was falling about her shoulders and her face had lengthened. She stepped forward and I saw it was the river diva I had met at winter solstice on the Thames, only she had more colour. Her hair was brownie grey rattails and she was pale skinned, but her eyes shun like jade green pebbles.

She bent and reached into the water, pulling out a flat, round edged grey river stone which she presented to me. Then she was still and back on the wall. Kwan Yin was watching me again. I gazed back at her and there was such a feeling of love in my heart that I felt the tears prick my eyes. Had I dreamed the change? I was not sure. But in my hand I held the little river stone so it must have been true.

Bowing low to Kwan Yin, and acknowledging the other one also there, I dove back into the water and made my way back to the river.

Sitting on the bench I began to sing:

“The river is flowing, flowing and growing.
The river is flowing down to the sea.
Mother earth carry me, your child I will always be.
Mother earth carry me back to the sea.

The moon she is waiting, waxing and waning.
The moon she is waiting for us to be free.
Sister moon shine on me, your child I will always be.
Sister Moon shine on me, until I am free.”

It was time to go. We opened the circle and collected our things together and made our way back to the car, for I had a train to catch.