Enter Coyote

Coyote stood on the brink of the void looking down into one of her favorite places on earthCoyote Scrying 2012 – scrying (perhaps the better word is “spying”) on that little Mahonia and Nekelew world. She could feel the portal more open now than in recent years. Folks had been doing their work even if they were still mostly unaware of the possibilities of connection with the spirits. Pineal glands were creaking open, the crystals inside getting polished and cleared. A few even had more advanced hits about capital “S” Spirit aka their own Higher Self. Reincarnation was no longer a foreign concept. Finally. It had taken proverbial pliers, crow bars, and an occasional wrench, but it was worth it and hopefully soon they would be more conscious of the portal. Especially if she nudged them a bit more. She was grateful to Spider and the others for doing a lot of the advance work.

She herself had been making “scattered shower” appearances here and there over the years. Mostly as the Heyoka Trickster, the Zia Clown, i.e. being the one who turns things upside down. Messes up the status quo. A little sickness, a little death. A heartbreak or two. Lots of general confusion. Heyoka specialize in out-of-the-box solutions for mundane troubles as well as for life’s bigger challenges…. All for humans’ own good of course.

Sure, Coyote had a reputation of being something of a fuckup, but that was mostly the male version of the mythical archetypal adventures. He-Coyote was famous for having a great idea with all good intention, but then tripping over his own four paws somehow. She-Coyote considered herself much more balanced. (Was that the other Council Spirits laughing?) What the humans couldn’t see from their limited perspective was that Abuela Coyote, like most sacred clowns, was in touch with the bigger picture. Usually. She knew their soul missions and contracts – their agreements in the Spirit World before they incarnated to play these roles in their present lives. Operation Karmic Krew and the Pinky Promise. Not that they remembered this. Or that they always appreciated what came their way as learning experiences.

But since the turn of the millennium more were getting the drift – seeing how they benefited from the dark times and the seemingly “tragic” experiences. They were increasingly willing to peek at their shadow selves. Making the choice to surrender to change voluntarily like the Tarot’s Hanged One, rather than have to submit to the Tower’s slaps upside the head…. the blow that Coyote was so good at. She giggled thinking of it.

She wasn’t the only one doing this of course. She was part of the Council though she didn’t always show up when a powwow was called. When she did appear the various spirits often disagreed with her ideas, so then she went at it alone. Coming to consensus was such a pain. Kwan Yin, for instance, was apt to advocate for more lenient lessons and was always there to pick up the scattered pieces of the bomb blasts (both literal and metaphorical) of Coyote’s more dramatic – and okay, admittedly less successful endeavors. Pluto, on the other hand, tended to delve into even more shadowy corners and had a morbid sense of humor that Coyote thought was over the top. Jupiter aka Zeus was obtusely heavy handed in his angrier moods, though nobody was more beneficent when the good times rolled. Thank goodness the Hindus kept Kali Ma around and active. She was usually an ally – she had clarity about when to slash confrontively and when to be tender. Humans didn’t always realize that both could be true at the same time and from the same being…. Everything was so black or white to humans stuck as they were in the duality plane. Controlled burns in forests were often needed to allow new growth, though conflagrations did get out of bounds sometimes if the wind shifted unexpectedly.

Good news was that those in spirit form could see the patterns laid out in the Universal matrix and they had access to the so-called Akashic Records where millennia of past life annals were kept. Thus they could follow the history of each soul and keep track of the overall process. On the good days. “When I’m not stirring up the chaos like dust from a whirlwind.” Coyote chuckled again at some juicy memories. Many of those incarnated in this place at this time were also part of the Council. Not that they remembered that, usually showing up around the fire in their dreaming state.

“I’m wondering if I should take a more active role again,” Coyote muttered to the large rodent-like creature who had appeared near her around the portal vortex.

“It would seem so,” said Mountain Beaver. “It’s all very well appearing out of the corner of someone’s eye, but you could be a little more open about your shenanigans. I think these humans are ready to make the connections more consciously now. Isn’t that what we’ve been aiming for?”

“You should talk,” said Coyote. “Most people in the region don’t even know you exist.”

“I don’t threaten them,” responded Mountain Beaver, who in her spirit form sported a Mohawk of green fur. She liked to live a little more out loud in this dimension than she could on the earth plane. “Unlike some I could mention…. Except when my diggings undermine their hillsides,” she added thoughtfully.

“Is it more effective to be myself or should I be a human this time?” wondered Coyote fixated on her own issues. “I could be someone new wandering into their sphere.”

“Perhaps this time it’s more subtle than incarnating and starting from scratch.”

“I don’t have the patience for that anymore and I’m too old for the forgetting.”

“You could skip the growing up process and enter stage left as an adult….”

“Maybe as a walk-in? Like take over someone’s body?” Abuela Coyote eyed the possibilities thoughtfully. “There’s that Raven guy, of course, but Spirit Raven already has dibs on him. ReBound Seth used to be an effective carrier of my energy and I’ve noticed he’s been nosing about again in his spirit form…. Who else?…. Jay Goodwin-Brown? He likes to stir things up. I can easily spur him to open his big mouth to cause havoc. I’m pretty sure it will create growth…. Teacher Stella has always had a fair share of my gifts…. She gets it….”

“She’s been away for a while,” said Mountain Beaver. “Maybe you can convince her to come back into circulation….”

“We could even revive Wild Woman.”

“I always thought that was you,” Mountain Beaver muttered.

Grandmother Coyote ignored the last comment enigmatically. “Yeah, I think I’ll just pounce wherever it feels right in the moment. Who needs a plan? Don’t worry, I won’t do anything rash…. Right away….” She gave Mountain Beaver a wicked grin over her shoulder and did a graceful swan dive into the void.

“Uh oh,” sang Mountain Beaver who knew from experience it was next to impossible to talk Coyote out of anything once in motion. “Watch out, Mahonia and Nekelew Valley. Let’s hope the landing isn’t a belly flop.”

 

Owen Chooses a Painting

Owen Chooses A Painting

To: Owen@ nekelew.net

From: Thea@ nekelew.net

Subject: Your paintings

At the risk of sounding like the classic “would you like to see my etchings,” would you like to come up on Tuesday about 5 pm for a drink and to choose a painting for our trade?

 

From: Owen@ nekelew.net

To: Thea@ nekelew.net

Subject: Re: Your paintings

Good timing. Tuesday would be great and I’ve cleared a space on my wall for a painting.

 

“Welcome, Owen. What can I get you? I have wine, beer, gin…and tequila.”

“Actually, I don’t drink anymore. Friend of Bill Wilson’s, you know. I’d love some juice if you have any.”

“Oh. I have apple juice if you’d like. Either plain or sparkling.”

“Sparkling would be lovely.”

If Thea was disconcerted by Owen’s choice she didn’t show it, pouring herself a glass of Merlot after she handed Owen his Martinelli’s. Standing in the kitchen alcove, they made small talk about the craftsmanship of the trim little house. Its previous owner was connected with Owen’s parents and it had been built by Charley with wood from Owen’s family’s sustainable timber operation.

But soon Owen’s eye was drawn to look around at the paintings. “Have you done all this work since you came down here?”

“Nope. That one there is an older one. It’s the Green Seed painting that Ursula and I were talking about when she suggested I come to you for a Soul Retrieval.”

“And this one?”

“That’s a new one about the Mountain – or rather a Wild Woman in the Mountain. I think her name needs capital letters. Have you ever heard of a legend about such a one?”

“I think there are stories of her in the collection called Nekelew Tales, but nothing substantive is coming to mind about her. I wonder if she has any connection to Durga that Ursula was just telling us about the other night or Kali. They are serious wild ones from India.”

“She came to me strongly and I just assumed she was Native American. In fact, the Mountain almost seems to be talking to me. Does that sound really weird?”

“It is weird – in the sense of ‘witchy’ – but I know what you mean. For me it comes through the plants. Which reminds me.” Owen dug through his knapsack and pulled out a small brown bottle. “Comfrey flower essence as ‘prescribed’ by Dr. Ursula and made by yours truly. It’s also known as bone knit so symbolically it’s about putting the pieces – the members – back together. Either literally if you have a broken bone or figuratively such as your lost parts we retrieved.”

“Is that why she said ‘remembering?’ I’ve been wondering about that.”

“Yes, as in re-membering,” Owen separated the two parts of the word as he spoke it.

“But what is an essence as opposed to a tincture?”

“A tincture contains the biological components of the plant. I make those too but these are the subtle energies. I can also make essences from crystals or even the energies of events. They’re more like homeopathic remedies that are diluted so much there’s nothing left of the original substance but the signature energy. I know it’s counter-intuitive, but the more they’re diluted the stronger they are. I make these from Mountain spring water in a crystal vase with the flower or root – usually in both sunlight and moonlight and often created during a special celestial or earth event such as an eclipse, solstice, or full moon. Or a new moon. They contain alcohol as a preservative so I don’t use them myself except when they are fresh – or from the freezer.

“Because they are Spirit Medicine they operate on a subtle level of one’s being. Always they come from a being – a plant, a place, a stone – that wanted to give its gift to us humans. I listen to the meaning & character of each gift as told to me by the being itself.”

“So this won’t cure a cold, say, but might help me find the meaning of my green seed or integrate my soul retrieval beings?”

“Exactly. It could very well help with those processes you are in the midst of. If you did have a cold, it would tackle the deeper basis for why you ‘caught’ it. Often unexpressed grief is involved and it could be very ancient. Or say if you had a sprained ankle or broken limb, it might help heal whatever it was that caused the so-called ‘accident’ in the first place. Why did you lose your footing or what is ungrounded in you? But you started to tell me about the Mountain talking to you.”

“Do your plant spirits come to you in their creature spirit form or in people-like form with distinct personalities like Eliot Cowan describes?”

“They are very amorphous for me. I just get a sort of feeling about them. It’s very subtle and easy to miss if I’m not listening carefully. And I often did miss it in the early days before I learned what was happening…”

“When I was painting the other day…. I’m not sure I’m ready to have you spread this around.”

“I won’t breathe a word until you’re ready.”

“As I finished this Wild Woman painting I heard a voice – no, it would be more accurate to say that I saw a voice in my head. I’m such a visual person that’s the only way I can describe it. A voice that said…well, see this fire in the painting here? I don’t know why that came in but it really wanted to be there…. The voice told me it’s a beacon calling me – us? – here…. And that the dragon is protection…. and something about Wild Woman…. I’m not sure what. That’s why I was asking about her.”

“Cool! We’ve often talked in the Medicine Circles about people feeling called here and occasionally the word “beacon” even gets used. Plus it’s not unusual for folks here to see flickers of dragons out of the corners of their eyes as well as in dreams. Or even just turning up a lot in books and cards at propitious moments. It’s a potent symbol. I’d say you are tuning into the deeper levels of what’s here. Good going. It’ll be fun to see what else you come up with.”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or more worried that you seem to think I’m tuning into something others are also getting.”

“Well, I, for one, would welcome accurate, beautiful depictions of what many of us suspect about this place and its purpose. And it wouldn’t surprise me for you to channel images that give us new information too.”

“ Should I say ‘thank you?’”

Owen laughed. “Did you ever have experiences like this when you were a kid?” he queried.

“Nooo. At least I don’t think so.”

“I’m wondering if it is your psychic self that has been closed off, shut down the way it was in so many of us. Often we had experiences as a child – some can recall them and some can’t – where a grown-up made us feel ashamed or crazy or fearful which, in effect, muzzled us. I know one person who knew her little brother had died before they told her and another for whom it was a grandparent. In one case the story was accepted and the person retained that ability. The other got yelled at for it and clammed up. She’s still working to regain her belief in the credulity of her other worldly experiences.”

“So you think I might have had such experiences and just not remembered?”

“It’s certainly possible. I hear a lot of fear in you about it.”

“Years ago a friend talked me into going with her to a psychic. It was amazing. He saw me as an artist and said I should be showing my work more. He had a lot of specifics about how I should go about doing that. Because of him I went on what now feels like a tangent visiting galleries back east – trying to hit the Big Time, you know.”

“Pretty alluring.”

“He also gave some directives to my friend that got her pretty bollixed up – about leaving her husband and some other stuff.”

“Sounds like by getting so specific, he wasn’t being too ethical. June says one always needs to leave room for free will in the person one is ‘seeing’ for. i.e. making it clear that there are many possible roads and turnings. Choices one gets to make rather than one inevitable path laid out in concrete.”

“Still, in a way it was a good thing. I was so turned off by the push energy of the tangent that something in me began to rebel against what I call ‘Capital A’ Art. It was about that time that I also began to discover Tarot and the Goddess and that led me down here…. So it wasn’t all bad by any means. But the thought of channeling something ‘wrong’ or ‘too much’ for somebody freaks me out.”

“Is it that, more than the fact of it happening to you or people knowing that it’s happening to you?”

“Certainly I don’t want to be considered crazy and all that. I think my mom planted some of that in my head. Hey – I wonder if she’d had some experiences she wasn’t telling me about. Or my aunt…. the one who left me the money that made it possible for me to move down here to the beach.”

“Any of them might have, of course. It certainly hasn’t been accepted in our culture for a long time. As we talked about with Ursula the other day, they burned witches….”

“Well, come on upstairs to my studio and some more of the paintings.” Ready to change the subject, Thea led Owen up the narrow, beautifully built staircase to her studio area. He had to duck under the low hanging eaves where the stairs turned and then opened out into a wide clear space full of canvases stacked every which way, as well as paintings and clippings hung on every possible surface, even the tall file cabinet next to the cluttered work table.

“Oh ho! What’s this one over here?” Owen pointed to a painting that was hanging on the east wall. “It’s really calling to me.” A large green male figure was holding an armload of plants and flowers. Foxglove and daisies stuck out from his arms while nasturtiums and ivy dangled down. A crown of what looked like Oregon Grape circled his head, though it could have been holly. Sitka spruce stood tall all around him, pointing up to the stars of the constellation Orion sparkling in the sky. A tiny figure of a centaur was wheeling near the stars. Thea had used her signature phthalo green and white to give the painting an eerie, other-worldly feeling.

“That’s the Green Man – I painted him this summer when I first got here and before I had any idea of the European archetype.”

“That’s funny because that image has become really important to me recently. It gives me chills to see it here. It’s like there’s some memory I can’t quite get hold of that has to do with it….” His voice trailed off.

“When you say that it gives me chills too….”

“To get chills is a sign of psychic connection,” Owen said absently. “The plants…?”

“You had just introduced me to Oregon Grape so it felt appropriate to put it in.”

“So it is Oregon Grape… Clearly this is the painting I want in trade for our session. It will be good to live with it and ponder why I’m responding so strongly to it.”

“I have no idea who the centaur is or why he’s in the painting.”

“I don’t know either, but that’s part of the mystery of it for me.”

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but I find him really sexy,” said Thea.  She wasn’t about to admit any more about it out loud. She’d exposed herself enough already to Owen, but she was feeling the energy of Osiris on him. Osiris, Egyptian God of the Underworld, was often considered a Green Man as well. Could it be Owen who had been turning up disguised as such in her fantasies lately?

There was a bit of an awkward silence. “Umm,” said Owen. “The plants are indeed the expression of the lifeblood of the earth and they can certainly stir us up. What is more primal than the Pan image of the Green Man? Yours isn’t leering here or goat footed though that’s often how he’s depicted. The Christians made him into the Devil. The Seducer. The Satyr, half man half goat, definitely has a mixed reputation in our culture.” Owen knew he was babbling but he didn’t know where to go with this.

Thea laughed. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But doing this painting made me feel sexy and now you’re taking it home so that has to become part of the mystery of it. Hopefully it will be disturbing in a good way.” She moved to take the canvas down from the wall and handed it to Owen with a flourish, bowing as he reached to take it. Owen bowed low in return.

“Owen, I’m pretty sure that at least some of this New Age LOVE energy is about sex. And the playful cougar seems to be coming out in me, thanks to you.“

“No worries,” countered Owen. “But I think I’d better make my escape now.”

Thea’s Ritual Aftermath

Thea had remained silent throughout the ritual but once home it all replayed in her head. She was close both geographically and emotionally to her mother – her father too, for that matter. And she had made a conscious choice not to have children, so there wasn’t a lot of punch in that…. but Oh! The power of the ritual. The feelings expressed were so intimate and potent. For the first time she really got what it meant to be part of a circle. She could see that sometime another topic would touch her more personally. When she was ready…. She felt badly about not being able to identify with their particular pain but truth be told there was another element that was going on for her.

The women’s ribald laughter had been strangely arousing. It was so freeing to connect about these intimate matters. She had always been shy about such things – it was the way she was brought up. Maybe these women would help her loosen up. It didn’t seem like they had troubles around that score, though what did she really know about them? She was committed to a solo life right now…. taking care of herself. But she could always use a little help of the non-physical sort….

She let herself slip again into that trance-like state she had been in by the end. What would the dark lover look like to her? That was a sexy vision Ursula had presented…. The Ancient Greeks were always depicted as white, distancing her from their stories despite her Hellenic heritage, but the Egyptians had some chocolate colored queens. Nefertiti for one, plus the Nubians. Maybe Hatshepsut. The myths from the two cultures were different though they overlapped sometimes…. except when they were opposite. The Greek’s Demeter was an earthy goddess as was Gaia, the earth herself, but the genders were reversed for the Egyptians. Thea began to see herself as the sky Goddess Nut – another version of Demeter as the source of food but this one arched over earth. Her breasts leaked milk to feed the land and its people. Blue with stars all over her body. On the land was Geb. Solid, manly. Of the earth. And under that? The Lord Osiris. God of the Dead.

Was Osiris the same as Hades who seduced Persephone? Is she Isis or the daughter that Isis never had? The stories seem to say that Isis continued to be a wife to Osiris in her dreams after his second death. Some even imply that Isis is the same as Mary. The Christians considered Mary a virgin impregnated by a god though they skipped over the making love part for sure. Perhaps she was also a priestess, a Magdalene who may also have made love to a god, or at least a god’s son….

Thea thought of a disturbing book she’d read. The Search for Omm Seti was the biography of a 20th century English woman who went to live at the Egyptian temple of Abydos because she had a powerful connection to a dead pharaoh from another lifetime. Seti made love to her in her sleep. And it hadn’t felt like a dream…. “Could it have been true?” wondered Thea. “Could I ever have such a lover?”

She lay quietly in her bed, naked under a light comforter the color of her body. She loved the softness of the flannel against her skin. She thought of a dark face leaning over her…. A dead lover from the Underworld. A lover from the stars….

A warm glow began to gently flicker deep in her vulva. Slick juices flowed as she focused there, a golden warmth spreading up into her belly. She could almost see the spiral – inside and out – uncoiling like a snake. The tip of its tail somewhere deep inside. Just under the hara – the second chakra – the dan tien as the Chinese called it, the body’s center of gravity. The snake’s head curled upwards and out her belly button, that relic of her umbilical that would never connect to daughter or son. The snake writhed and a song played on…. distant music. Pan pipes…. “Just to mix a few more metaphors,” Thea grinned.

She reached her hand down and slid her finger gently between lips slick with her feminine juices. “I want to taste them,” she thought and brought her hand up to her mouth. “Salty? Musky?” She didn’t really know the words to describe that taste though she’d read pages and pages in books trying to characterize it….

How would it feel to have him suddenly appear, this lover from the underworld. She let out a sigh as his strong body entwined with hers. Powerful. Confident. Gentle and wise. His pelvis moving against hers, he slid his hands around her hips and she cupped his beautiful buttocks, feeling the muscles and the heave of them as he entered her. Ahhhhhh. OOOOHHH. Her breath came quickly now in gasps, as did his. Her belly writhed against his. Her blood thundered and she imagined his doing the same. Her back arched up. Her legs splayed wide. Her fingers thrust deeply inside. Her sacrum thrummed as did her womb inside it, matching the thrusting rhythm of the earth as the male god. Geb. Green Man. Hearts beating. Ragged panting.

Thea let out a wild yell that seemed to echo through time and space. She felt the Mountain deep under and inside of her. Felt Wild Woman egging her on, calling forth her own subterranean wildness in a deliciously gushing stream that soaked her fingers and the sheet beneath her…. Sacred. It was so sacred. Sacred play.