A Journey With Blackbirdowl

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

O The green heart of compassion

O The green heart of compassion
Saturday March 23, 2013:

Spring Equinox
Balancing balance with desire.

The turn of the wheel of the year has come to the place of the young adult.
In spring we begin to feel the first stirrings of desire, a maturing
sexuality. We move towards finding our place in the world.
In the centre of the labyrinth we meet our opposite. Desire springs from the
yearning of dark for light, day for night, we for our opposites, of the
Goddess for herself. In that kiss, we may find new balance and completeness.
We bring back to this world a decorated egg, symbolizing this encounter with
our desire and all that may grow from it in the months to come.
Three of us gather in my front room, for the skies have been pouring for
days and spring has gone to ground. We agree we'll cast and invoke then
study a flower and think of nature and our desire. We'll do a journey
through the labyrinth to that desire, return, paint eggs share, raise cone
of power and do blessings etc.

Smudge curls through the air. Its evocative savouries take me right into an
altered state. As the circle is cast, I feel that intense light surrounding
us. I call the birds via the temple bells, the fire via the wild rattle and
the fire snakes knock my breath from me so intense is their dance. I float
with the water through the rain stick and growl and stamp through the drum
with the earth. The sweet chime, spiralling into stillness of the singing
bowl brings all together.

This is spring, where balance meets desire and opposites come together, day
and night, love and fear in a new lover's dance that begins with a kiss.

Striding through the trees, the muddy-faced child, grinning and impudent is
changing into something else. The gait is elegant yet slightly gawky, round
limbs, lengthen, shoulders widen, hips, curve, breasts define, the beginning
of a swell at the groin. She/he walks through the trees, her/his hair
softly dancing in the wind.
In the centre of the grove is a round green pool. Drawn by some magnetic
insistence, she/he moves closer, kneels down and gazes at her/his reflection
in the dark water.

Two dark fine eyes stair back, lips curving and smiling, cheekbones defined
beneath the soft rounded cheeks. Her/his mouth, full lipped, smiles at
first uncertainly and then with pleasure laced with surprise. Her/his Chin
is growing strong beneath the softness of youth. Her/his curled hair, lies
across the smooth forehead.

Amazed, she/he gazes at her/himself. Her/his heart moves, there's a
shifting between her/his legs. Beauty swims in the pool. With a sudden
shifting, she/he knows that it is love.

Come adolescence of both genders and none. Meet yourself in your blossoming
body, in that place where your desire rises for the first time. Surprise,
sweet recognition move across that face, captivating you in the dark pool in
the grove.

And Starhawk writes: "Alone, awesome, complete within herself, the Goddess,
She whose name cannot be spoken, floated in the abyss of the outer darkness,
before the beginning of all things. And as She looked into the curved mirror
of black space, She saw by her own light her radiant reflection, and fell in
love with it. She drew it forth by the power that was in Her and made love
to Herself, and called Her "Miria, the Wonderful."
Their ecstasy burst forth in the single song of all that is, was, or ever
shall be, and with the song came motion, waves that poured outward and
became all the spheres and circles of the worlds. The Goddess became filled
with love, swollen with love, and She gave birth to a rain of bright spirits
that filled the worlds and became all beings.
But in that great movement, Miria was swept away, and as She moved out from
the Goddess She became more masculine. First She became the Blue God, the
gentle, laughing God of love. Then She became the Green One, vine-covered,
rooted in the earth the spirit of all growing things. At last She became the
Homed God, the Hunter whose face is the ruddy sun and yet dark as Death. But
always desire draws Him back toward the Goddess, so that He circles Her
eternally, seeking to return in love.
All began in love; all seeks to return to love. Love is the law, the teacher
of wisdom, and the great revealers of mysteries."

I take a flower, touch it, smell it, and taste it. Beauty in my hands. I
cradle its fragile head, examining all that nature can offer in a flower
first stretching out its life to the lengthening day, even though the snow
covers the ground and frost is in the air. WHERE is my desire in this, I

The heartbeat drum takes me to move through the stone archway into the dark
beyond. I am not afraid because the candle is burning in my mind's eye, it
will light the way. I turn, move slowly on, turn again, and again. I know
not what I pass, I am focused on meeting my desire, and I walk on, careless
of the way back, only wanting to arrive.

In the centre of the labyrinth, she stands, that flower faced goddess. Her
face in my hands, I run my thumbs across her soft smooth skin. Oh so
beautiful, so beautiful. I feel a movement deep inside me as her lips touch

The kiss spreads out and engulfs the whole world. I am lost in it. All I
know is lips on lips, breath on breath. Her sweet rosy breath-loving takes
me, holds me, submerges me. I am helpless, but happy to be so.

The bear is not far away. The kiss is safe because the bear is there. The
kiss is hope, yellow, green hope like sun and new born leaves. My desire is
hope and safety. To be loved and to love. To be looked after and

My lips are swollen. The flower led teenage passionate snogathon is over.
I'm filled with excitement and anticipation. I walk tall, knowing the bear
and the flower-faced goddess are there. I carry my hope in a green heart
back into the work.

We paint our eggs. Mine is lemon, butter, apricot and orange. Soft fire
colours. But I also think of my egg as a clitoris.

"Hope over fear" that's what this is, I say, showing my egg. We sing and
drum and whip up the energy. Like an orgasm, it suddenly runs through me.
Ah, I say as it ends, sated at last.

N The broken jet heart

N The broken jet heart
Tuesday March 19, 2013
In the garden first thing, I am taken down to the well again. On the other
side, the wolf walks slowly down the stairs. She wants me to come with her.

I climb across and together, we move slowly up the steps and into the old
yew tree. She walks stiffly but with assurance down the spiral staircase.
I guess she's used to it. I'm struck by her indomitable courage. I touch
her head and she leans towards my thigh. Such a loving gesture.

SHE is by the fire in the corner. I can't make her out. The wolf leads me
to the fire and lies down. I am invited to look in and find something to
take out. I see a glistening piece of jet. I reach in and take; it's warm
but doesn't burn.

I hold it in my hand and understand that it's for me. There's something
about transformation. Jet is associated with mourning. I wonder what this
means. Maybe it is the dance with death that must be going on.
Momentarily, I am afraid, but then I remember, we must all dance with death,
for we will die one day. I hope for me that it won't be soon.

I hold the jet piece in my hand. It shapes itself a little like a heart
shape. It's warm. It almost pulses. Perhaps I have it so I can be
conscious of my mortality but take comfort in it. I'm not dead yet, after
all, unlike many friends.

I kneel before Bridget, a shadowy figure in the corner. The wolf rests her
head on my thigh. The bear looks down upon me with compassion and
reassurance. I suddenly feel easier, not alone and comforted. I touch my
heart and bow to her, stroke the wolf and we get up to go.

I get up to go. The wolf takes me back up and to the top of the steps down
to the wall. I remonstrate with her. I can find my way. She continues to
walk with me. I feel like she's saying, "I'm with you, I'm a bit old and
it's hard, but I'm not leaving."

I'm so touched by this. With her, I also feel the presence of the bear. At
the top of the steps, she leaves me. I step across the well and as I arrive
next to a friend who is ill and seeking support at the well of healing, I
feel the jet in my hand divide into two. I give my friend one of the
pieces, touching her arm gently as I pass and climb back up the stairs.